Natrona County, Wyoming - The whole text, 1923 (part 13 of 15)

"About 10 o'clock p. m. Major Anderson arranged with the half-breed Snake Indian to go to Deer Creek and report the situation to the commanding officer at the post and then have it telegraphed down the road, also to carry orders for the garrison at Deer Creek to march to our assistance and to bring us a supply of ammunition. During the fight the day before we had captured quite a number of Indian ponies whose riders had been shot off them, and then the ponies had come along with Collins' men into our lines. The half breed selected a pony which he said had belonged to a Sioux chief, and had been noted for its speed and endurance. He started out a little after 10 o'clock p. m., going directly south towards the mountains and after that he intended to take a trail he knew and work to the east until he reached the Deer Creek station. He was successful in his undertaking and he reached his destination safely, and about fifty men of Company K, nth Kansas Volunteers, with about 5,000 rounds of ammunition, were started for Platte Bridge. The next morning everything appeared about as it was the preceding night. The Indians were in sight on the bluff, though their numbers were less, and we noticed parties of them going off in a northeast direction all the morning, until about noon the last of them disappeared. About 3 o'clock p. m., we noticed a body of men coming from toward the Deer Creek station, and very soon we recognized them as being soldiers. It proved to be Company K from Deer Creek with the ammunition. We gave them a hearty reception and as soon as they rested a few minutes, they in company with a detachment of Company I started on the trail of the Indians. It was soon ascertained that the Indians were in full retreat and then the command was ordered to go to the place where the fight with the train had been. On arriving there a horrible sight met our gaze. Twenty-one of our dead soldiers were lying on the ground stripped naked, and mangled in every imaginable way. I noticed one poor fellow with a wagon tire across his bowels, and from appearances it had been heated and laid upon him, while still alive, so that the red devils might gloat over the torture they were putting him to, before the breath of life had entirely left his body.

"From the appearance of the rest, I believe he was the only one tortured, and therefore think he was the only one left alive at the time they captured the train. Every one of the men were scalped, but the Indians had left their scalps lying around on the ground, which was a sure sign that their loss had been so heavy that they did not think they had any cause to exult over their victory. We counted about forty trails made by poles fastened to their ponies on which they fix a stretcher, to carry their wounded on. We heard some time after, that during the fighting their loss had been over sixty warriors killed and about 130 badly wounded. The loss on our side was Lieutenant Collins, twenty-seven men killed, eleven or twelve wounded, and one missing. We presume that the missing man, William West, was killed, but we could not find his body. It may be that the Indians took him away to torture him at one of their villages before putting him to death. The command returned to the station and the next morning we went out and buried our fellow heroes in the ground upon which they had so nobly yet unavailingly fought. Most of those who had been killed with the train had belonged to Company H of the nth Kansas, and it was always considered the best company in the regiment when there was any real fighting to be done, yet up to this time the company had escaped with less casualties than any other company in the regiment. It made it so much harder that after fighting nearly three years against the rebels, then to be ordered out on the plains to fight Indians, and now when the orders were out for our return home to be mustered out, it was sad to have so many of our comrades slaughtered. We have the consolation of knowing that they died with their face to the foe and that in death as well as through their three years' service they sustained the proud reputation, gained by the regiment, of always doing their duty, no matter what odds were pitted against them.

The exact spot where the body of Caspar CoUins was found cannot be marked, for it is unknown. John C. Friend, when he was here July 5, 1920, said that "the distance from the north end of the bridge to where he was found was variously estimated from two to four miles. So long as the body was recovered the distance and the exact spot were matters of indifference to us at that time. It has been more than fifty years since the battle and the old landmarks are now all gone."

The old abandoned military post, which is now known as Fort Caspar, was first established in the summer of 1858.^ It was then known as Mormon Ferry. In March, 1859, an order from the Department was given to abandon the post at Platte Bridge, and from this order it is evident that Louis Guinard had built the bridge in the winter of 1858-9, and the name of the post was accordingly changed. In May, 1862, the post was again occupied by volunteer troops, but, according to Earnest Pope, a soldier stationed here at that time, "it consisted of only a few sod houses. In the summer of 1866 some of the soldiers of Company K, i8th Ohio Infantry, commenced to build the fort from logs which they hauled down from Casper mountain. This mountain was then called the 'Black Hills.' We were paid 331^ cents per day extra for our work on the fort. The log trains were heavily guarded, for the Indians were opposed to the fort being built. Three of our men who were guarding the telegraph station at Big Thompson were chased up the Sweetwater by the Indians in January or February, 1867, and although they kept away from the red skins, our men found them frozen to death in the hills back of the Sweetwater."

The name of this post was changed in in November, 1865, from Platte Bridge to Fort Caspar, as stated in the introductory of this sketch. Upon an order from the War Department it was abandoned in Octol)er, 1867. The buildings and the bridge were set on fire by the Indians and destroyed in the fall after the post was abandoned. As late as 1898 some of the walls of the old adobe buildings were still standing, but they were afterwards destroyed by the settlers who occupied the land.

Mathew Campfield, a negro barber in Casper, filed on the land for his homestead where old Fort Caspar was located, the description of which is : The southeast quarter of the southwest quarter of section 7, township 33, north, range 79 west of the sixth principal meridian. Patent was issued May 10, 1898. Mr. Campfield died before the patent was issued, but his wife, Fannie Campfield, was given title to the land and she sold it to Antonio K. Feil. Town lots have been platted on forty acres west of where the fort stood, and as it was only reasonable to presume that the location of the fort would soon be platted into town lots, at a luncheon of the Casper Chamber of Commerce, held on October 17, 1922, a committee consisting of A. J. Mokler, W. S. Kimball and M. P. Wheeler, was appointed for the purpose of conferring with the Casper city council and requesting that the city of Casper acquire title to a portion of the land occupied by the old fort and have it fenced and an appropriate marker erected on the spot. This committee waited on the council at a meeting held on the evening of November 8, and after each of the members had addressed the council, upon motion of Councilman W. W. Keefe it was decided by a unanimous vote that the entire body of the city council, together with the city engineer and the members of the committee from the chamber of commerce visit the site of the old fort on the afternoon of November 9 for the purpose of viewing the ground and deciding upon what portion of it the city should purchase and have fenced and marked. All the members of the council and the committee viewed the site on the date specified, and many relics of the old fort were found, and one of the logs forming the cribbing for one of the piers to the old bridge, with several large hand-forged spikes driven through it, all of which was in a fairly good state of preservation, was unearthed and brought to Casper and will be preserved for Natrona county's historical society. This log had been buried under the silt and sand for more than sixty-three years. The city council will acquire title to about 100 acres of this land, fence and mark the spot where the old fort was located and create a park along the river.

The Platte bridge was located on a portion of land described as the northeast quarter of the southwest quarter of section 7, township 33, north, range 79 west of the sixth principal meridian. This land was homesteaded by Charles M. Hawks, December 21, 1906, who afterwards sold it to the Mills Construction company. Many of the old stone piers on the south side of the river, which supported the bridge, may yet be found among the willows. Across the old bridge, on the north side of the river and to the west was the old battle ground, which has been drenched with the blood of at least sixty brave white men and an unknown number of savage red men.

The citizens of Casper, Natrona county and Wyoming revere the name of Caspar Collins, and on July 5, 1920, a marker was unveiled on the old Oregon Trail, near the spot where he fell. The monument is of gray granite, bearing the inscription:

At the unveiling ceremony a vivid account of the event was told by John C Friend of Rawlins. Mr. Friend was a telegraph operator at Sweetwater station in June, 1865, and was one of a party of thirty sent from that station to Platte Bridge to restring telegraph wires which the Indians had cut. He said in part, "I was with the party which went out next day to bring in the dead. We spread out fan shaped over these hills, and one of the party signaled that they had found him. I didn't see the body. A box was made, lined with blankets and it was brought in and buried on the other side of the river near the station. Later it was shipped back to his home in Ohio."

In the fall of 1899, H. M. Brown was awarded the contract for disinterring, boxing, and delivering to the depot the bodies of the soldiers who were killed in action in 1865 at or near Fort Caspar. There were thirteen bodies disinterred, five were in the Casper cemetery, seven were half a mile west from the site of Fort Caspar and one five miles south of town. The bodies were placed in boxes four feet long, one foot deep and one foot wide, and were shipped to Fort Russell, where they were interred in the soldiers' cemetery. The bodies of the seven soldiers near Fort Caspar and the five in the Casper cemetery which had been previously moved from their original graves on account of the river's changing its course and exposing the remains, were soldiers who lost their lives with Lieutenant Caspar Collins. On a little hill, about two and one-half miles west of Casper, overlooking the famous Caspar Collins battle field, are the seven empty graves. This is all that is left to tell the pathetic story of the massacre of Lieutenant Caspar Collins and his brave command. These graves may be observed by all who chance to pass along the road. At the head and foot of the graves before the bodies were removed, were two rough stones and the mounds were covered with smaller stones of the same kind. This, perhaps, was all that those who buried their comrades could do to mark their last resting places. From generation to generation, the story of this frightful massacre will be handed down, and as Casper grows, and its suburbs extend in that direction, it is hoped that the spot will be fenced and preserved, that our citizens may realize and remember the hardships endured by those who fought and died to protect the emigrants who were passing through this valley on their way to the far west, where populous cities have been builded, where thousands and millions of acres of land have been reclaimed, where vast and wonderful mines of precious metal have been discovered, and where an Empire has been established.

Indians went on the war path in this country in the early spring of 1865, and they reaped their greatest harvest of life and property in what is now Natrona county. Emigrants who were caught along the Trail were killed and their property which could not be used by the savages was burned. Forts were attacked, the soldiers killed and the stock driven away. All along the Trail from the South Pass to Fort Laramie, there was death and destruction. Rock Ridge station, in the Sweetwater country, was one of the first to be attacked and concerning this fight, Lieutenant-Colonel Plumb, whose command was the Eleventh Kansas Cavalry, in his official report to the war department, dated June i, 1865, from Camp Dodge, which was located several miles above Platte Bridge, says:

" I have the honor to report that on the morning of last Saturday the Indians in considerable force attacked Rock Ridge station and ran off what stock that remained, and soon after cut the telegraph line. No further information was received from there until yesterday, when a messenger arrived from Sweetwater station, bringing intelligence that on Sunday night Lieutenant Collins, Eleventh Ohio Volunteer cavalry, with two men, started from Three Crossings for Rock Ridge, and, arriving within a short distance, discovered that the station was in flames. Not considering it prudent to venture farther, he returned to Three Crossings. The fate of the garrison at Rock Ridge is unknown, but the worst is feared. It numbered four men, all of the Eleventh Ohio cavalry. Monday afternoon about forty Indians effected a stampede of the herd of mules and horses belonging to the Sweetwater garrison, and succeeded in getting away with four horses and six mules. One Indian was killed. Yesterday I sent Lieutenant Bretney, with eight men of his company, to Sweetwater, then to proceed to Rock Ridge if deemed safe. He will be at the latter place tomorrow, I also sent Captain Green, with sixty men of the Eleventh Kansas, provided with twenty days' rations to go up the road as far as Rock Ridge, with instructions to repair the telegraph line and take the necessary measures for the immediate rebuilding of the station at Rock Ridge, I also turned over to Captam Lybe five of the government teams that came up with my regimental train, and ordered him to proceed at once to his station at Three Crossings and distribute his company according to orders from you, and also to submit to the order and direction of Captain Green in reference to repairing the telegraph, and re-erection of station at Rock Ridge."

Lieutenant Bretney proceeded up the road as ordered and investigated the condition of the various stations, and his report shows that on May 26 three Indians made an attempt to take the herd at Sweetwater station, but were repulsed by the garrison, who killed one hostile and wounded another. Fortunately none of the small force was injured. Two days later the Indians returned in force and succeeded in stampeding four horses and two mules. The httle garrison fired at the hostiles and wounded one of them. On June i the Indians again returned and made a desperate attempt to run ofF the balance of the horses, but the soldiers, being on the watch, opened a vigorous fire and drove them off. This party cut the telegraph wire and carried off 100 yards of it; Lieutenant Bretney also reported that on the 27th of May, about 150 savages made a furious attack on Saint Mary's station and in a short time succeeded in setting fire to the buildings. The garrison, consisting of five men, retreated to an old well outside of quarters, where they escaped to South Pass. The operator. Private Chavil St. Clair, took precaution enough to secure a relay, sounder and a coil of fine wire, and was thus enabled to communicate with Fort Bridger. The garrison lost everything but the fire arms and the clothes on their back. Their horse equipments were burned. There were but two horses kept at the station; one of these the Indians captured and the other was shot to prevent its falling into their hands. They cut about 400 yards of telegraph wire and burned the poles. When the Indians left they moved to the south, passing up the valley of Sage creek. The garrison did as w^ell as could be expected under the circumstances. When the Indians came within proper distance they fired upon them briskly. Several were known to have been wounded. None of the garrison was injured.

The Indians were active along the telegraph line at this time. A little affair occurred at Platte Bridge on the morning of June 3 which made something of a stir but did not result very seriously. Six Indians appeared on the river bank, opposite the post, and it was thought their object was to draw the men across the river and lead them into an ambush they had prepared. As soon as the alarm was given, First Sergeant Samuel B. White, Eleventh Ohio cavalry who was in charge, dispatched a messenger to Colonel Plumb of the Eleventh Kansas cavalry, who was at Camp Dodge, informing him of the appearance of the hostiles. As soon as this messenger had gone. Sergeant White ordered a twelve-pound howitzer trained on the Indians and the first fire resulted in crippling two of their ponies, but inflicted no injury on the savages, who quickly took refuge behind the rocks. The sergeant then mounted ten men and sent them to the bluffs on the North Platte to watch the movements of the enemy and followed these by ten soldiers on foot in the rear to prevent the mounted men being cut off by a superior force. One Indian was seen going toward the telegraph line with the evident intention of cutting it. He was pursued and fired upon, but only the horse was hit. As soon as Colonel Plumb received the message from Platte Bridge, he mounted ten men of Company B, Eleventh Kansas cavalry, and hastened with all possible speed to the scene of hostilities. Arriving at Platte Bridge, he took ten men of Company G, Eleventh Ohio cavalry, all mounted, and proceeded in pursuit of the Indians. On leaving Camp Dodge, he had ordered twenty more men of his own regiment to mount as soon as possible and follow him. The pursuit of the Indians led Colonel Plumb and his command across to the north side of the Platte and then over some rough country directly north of the post. A hard chase of five miles brought them within shooting distance of the hostiles and a running fight ensued which resulted in one Indian pony being killed and two Indians wounded. One-half of Colonel Plumb's force had fallen behind on account of their horses being unable to keep up. The Indians, aware of the situation, now turned and made a vigorous charge on their assailants, but Colonel Plumb and his ten troopers received them by showing a compact front and delivering a galling fire. The Indians now turned and fled. Shortly after, about sixty Indians charged down the bottom of Dry creek, a half mile to the left of the command, with the evident purpose of cutting them off from Platte Bridge. The little party now realized that they were in a dangerous position, but fortunately the twenty men who had been ordered to follow from Camp Dodge appeared in sight and the Indians turned and fled. Six or seven of the soldiers started in pursuit of some hostiles who had turned to the right. The soldiers pressed them closely and were led into ambush by about thirty Indians in front and rear. At the time of this attack the soldiers found themselves with empty revolvers and were unable to hold their ground until assistance could arrive. In this affair Private W. T. Bonwell, Company F, Eleventh Kansas, and Private Sahlnecker, Company G, were killed. Night coming on, the troops returned to Platte Bridge station.

The remains of Private Bonwell were buried where he fell and a sandstone monument was erected over his grave which was alongside of theroad leading to Garden Creek falls. Thismonumentwas removed and the bones of the soldier were disinterred in the fall of 1899 and shipped to Fort Russell where they were interred in the soldiers' cemetery.

One of the first chapters of Wyoming's history was enacted by a courageous little party of fur traders on their way from Astoria to Saint Louis. When they arrived at Saint Louis they had shortened the route of Lewis and Clark, had discovered the Sweetwater and North Platte rivers and had discovered that most important gateway through the Rockies, South Pass.

They built the first cabin in what is now the state of Wyoming in November, 1812, at a point along the river near Bessemer Bend, and for five weeks rested and recuperated from the exertion and hunger of the months preceding and prepared for the dark days to come before they should arrive at Saint Louis.

There were seven of them in the party that left Astoria on June 29, 1812, Robert Stuart, Ben Jones, Robert McClellan, John Day, Ramsey Crooks, Andri Vallar, and Francis Le Clerc. They started up the Columbia river in canoes. Before they were out many days, one of the party, John Day, became demented and was sent back to Astoria in the care of some friendly Indians. In a few days, they came across some men who had been separated from another party and gave them provisions and one of them, a man named Miller, joined Stuart in Day's place.

They rode toward the south and east looking for a river that would take them to the Missouri. They killed what game they could, feasting when their luck was good and going without food when there was nothing to kill. In August, they encountered some thieving Indians, the Crows. These Indians tried to rob the white men and followed them for 150 miles. Finally, one night in September, as they were camped on the Snake (Green) river, all their horses were stolen. Then they took up the journey on foot and after much suffering and many hardships they reached the Grand Tetons about October i. There was a great deal of snow on the ground and they were forced to ford many streams. They were without food. Mc- Clellan, for some personal reason, decided to try traveling alone and he left the party. Traveling became harder and the game was not only scarce, but they were so nearly exhausted that their shots went wild and they were unable to kill what little game they found. At one time, they were without food for three days. They kept pushing on, always being cheered and urged by their leader, Stuart. Mc- Clellan was found and restored to the party although he begged to be allowed to die. He was so emaciated that he was almost a skeleton. His comrades divided his load among them and supported him as well as they could in their weakened condition. On the fourth day of their enforced fast, they came upon a rundown buffalo bull. They dared not let it get away and they surrounded the beast and took great care in aiming at it. They were successful in killing it. Their hunger was so great that they did not want to wait to cook the meat, but tried to eat it raw. Stuart, who always managed to keep a cool head, made some broth and forced the men to drink it. Otherwise, they would have died by gorging themselves.

Since losing their horses, they had been carrying all their provisions and equipment on their backs. On October i8, they met a large band of Snake Indians. These Indians were friendly and gave them food and shelter. They were induced to part with an ancient horse in exchange for a pistol, an axe, a knife, and a few other trifles. They loaded the animal with as much of their burden as it could carry and leading it, they journeyed on, still keeping to the south and east and still searching for the river that would float them to the Missouri. They trailed slowly over the continental divide and reached the Sweetwater, although they did not know it, for it had not yet been named or charted. After camping a few days on the banks of the Sweetwater, they proceeded in an easterly direction, and in a short time found themselves on the banks of the North Platte and then continued on their journey for several more days, until they concluded to camp until warm weather.

Stuart kept a diary on this trip which was afterwards edited by Washington Irving. In describing this part of the journey, he said: "Late in the afternoon of the 30th (October) they came to where the stream, now^ to a considerable size, poured along in a ravine between precipices of red stone two hundred feet in height. For a distance it dashed along, over huge masses of rock, with foaming violence, as if exasperated by being compressed in so narrow a channel, and at length leaped down a chasm that looked dark and frightful in the gathering twilight.^

"For a part of the next day, the wild river in its capricious wanderings, led them through a variety of striking scenes. At one time they were upon high plains, like platforms among the mountains, with herds of buffaloes roaming about them; at another, among rude, rocky defiles, broken into cliffs and precipices, where the black-tailed deer bounded off among the crags, and the big-horn basked on the sunny brow of the precipice.

"In the after part of the day they came to another scene, surpassing in savage grandeur those already described. They had been traveling for some distance through a pass of the mountains, keeping parallel with the river as it roared along, out of sight, through a deep ravine. Sometimes their devious path approached the margin of cliffs below which the river foamed and boiled and whirled among the masses of rock that had fallen into its channel. As they crept cautiously on, leading their solitary pack-horse along these giddy heights, they all at once came to where the river thundered down a succession of precipices, throwing up clouds of spray, and making a prodigious din and uproar. The travelers remained for a time, gazing with mingled awe and delight at this furious cataract, to which Mr. Stuart gave, from the color of the impending rocks, the name of The Fiery Narrows."

Stuart's party surely possessed the true spirit of adventure. Footsore, hungry, and utterly weary, yet they could take the time to remain "for a time, gazing with mingled awe and delight" at the Grand canyon.

After following the river two more days, they decided that they must find a place to stop and recuperate. Stuart showed excellent judgment in this, for to go on in the face of the winter's snows and cold would have meant disaster to the little party. They found a low point of land on a bend in the river. There were cottonwoods and willows there for building materials and firewood. There were mountains to the south and west, which furnished retreats for big-horn and bears and black-tailed deer. The lower ground was the haunt of herds of buffalo. This bend is recognized as the Bessemer Bend and the mountains described are Casper and Muddy mountains. The meat that they killed in large quantities was stored along the banks of a little stream. This is the Lower Poison Spider creek.

Stuart's diary describes their camp as follows: "As the slaughter of so many buffaloes had provided the party with beef for the winter, in case they met with no further supply, they now set to work, heart and hand, to build a comfortable wigwam. In a little while, the woody promontory rang with the unwonted sound of the axe. Some of its lofty trees were laid low, and by the second evening the cabin was complete. It was eight feet wide and eighteen feet long. The walls were six feet high and the whole was covered with buffalo skins. The fire-place was in the center and the smoke found its way out through a hole in the roof." This sturdy little cabin was Wyoming's first house.

A small band of Arapahoe Indians, whom they did not trust, visited them for a few days after they had been in their camp for only five weeks. The Arapahoes left without harming them, but fearing their return in another mood, Stuart packed up his men and some provisions and moved on toward the east. Again they endured hardships. The crust on the snow cut their feet and the cold caused them acute suffering. The poor old horse carried enough meat for them, but they had little to feed it in return except willow twigs and Cottonwood bark.

After going as far east as the western border of Nebraska, they built a new winter camp, said by some to have been at the present site of Gering. When spring came on, they tried to go down the river in a canoe, but the sand-bars and snags made this sort of travel- ing slow and tedious and again they traveled on foot. At Grand Island they met some fur traders just out from Saint Louis. These men gave them a boat made of deer skins stretched over poles and it was not long before they were in Saint Louis.

Their journey is said to be the most venturesome and the most productive of results of any ever undertaken across this country. Their path was the Overland Trail followed by thousands a few years later.

"Absaroka," in the Crow language, means "The Crows." Natrona county comprises a portion of the land controlled by the Crow Indians when the white men first commenced to make their expeditions into the Rocky Mountain regions in the early part of 1800.

Arapooish was chief of the Crow tribe in 1830, and that he recognized the wonderful advantages of this locality fully as much as his white brethren do these days, is evidenced from his address as recorded by Washington Irving in his "Adventures of Captain Bonneville": "Before we accompany Captain Bonneville into the Crow country, we will impart a few facts about this wild region, and the wild people who inhabit it. We are not aware of the precise boundaries, if there are any, of the country claimed by the Crows; it appears to extend from the Black Hills to the Rocky mountains, including a part of their lofty ranges, and embracing many of the plains and valleys watered by the Wind river, the Yellowstone, the Powder river, the Little Missouri, and the Nebraska (now the Platte). The country varies in soil and climate; there are vast plains of sand and clay, studded with large red sandhills; other parts are mountainous and picturesque; it possesses warm springs, and coal mines, and abounds of game.

"But let us give the account of the country as rendered by Arapooish, a Crow chief, to Mr. Robert Campbell, of the Rocky Mountain Fur company.

"'The Crow country,' said he, 'is a good country. The Great Spirit has put it exactly in the right place; while you are in it you fare well; whenever you go out of it, whichever way you travel, you fare worse.

" 'To the north it is cold; the winters are long and bitter, with no grass. You cannot keep horses there, but must travel with dogs. What is a country without horses?

Absaroka, The Land Of The Crows 415

"'On the Columbia they are poor and dirty, paddle about in canoes, and eat fish. Their teeth are worn out; they are always taking fish-bones out of their mouths. Fish is poor food.

" 'To the east, they dwell in villages ; they live well ; but they drink the muddy water of the Missouri - that is bad. A Crow's dog would not drink such water.

"'About the forks of the Missouri is a fine country; good water; good grass; plenty of buffalo. In summer, it is almost as good as the Crow country; but in winter it is cold; the grass is gone; and there is no salt weed for the horses.

'"The Crow country is exactly in the right place. It has snowy mountains and sunny plains; all kinds of climates and good things for every season. When the summer heats scorch the prairies, you can draw up under the mountains, where the air is sweet and cool, the grass fresh and the bright streams come tumbling out of the snowbanks. There you can hunt the elk, the deer, and the antelope, when their skins are fit for dressing; there you will find plenty of white bears and mountain sheep.

"'In the autumn, when your horses are fat and strong from the mountain pastures, you can go down into the plains and hunt the buffalo, or trap beaver on the streams. And when winter comes on, you can take shelter in the woody bottoms along the rivers; there you will find buffalo meat for yourselves, and cottonwood bark for your horses; or you may winter in the Wind River valley, where there is salt weed in abundance.

It has been nearly one hundred years since Arapooish delivered this encomium regarding the Crow country, but every word of it is as true today as it was in the days of Arapooish. The Great Spirit surely put it in the right place for the red man as well as the pale face who has taken his place. Where stood the tepee now stands the mansion, the business blocks and factories; where roamed the buffalo, now pasture the sheep and the cattle; where the Indian spent his time in the chase to gather his winter's provisions, the white man now harvests bountiful crops of grain and drills deep into the ground for oil which has provided employment for thousands of men and has caused Casper to grow from a frontier village to one of the leading cities of the Middle West.

Arapooish was right. "The Crow country is in the right place. Everything good, is to be found here. There is no country like the Crow country."

"Absaroka" would have been a more appropriate name for the county than "Natrona," but after all, the name does not change the conditions, and while you are in the county "you fare well; whenever you go out of it, whichever way you travel, you fare worse. "

Volumes have been written about the wonderful resources of Central Wyoming, but all that has been said and all that has been written could be boiled down into the few words of praise of Chief Arapooish nearly a hundred years ago.

In many respects the Crows were vastly different from other tribes of Indians, but in these days of civilization the white man is want to class all the Indian tribes alike, but they were as different as are the sets and castes of the white man. The highbred and the lowbred among the Indians were very pronounced, and woe unto the white man who let it be known that he mistook a Crow for a Sioux or a Sioux for a Shoshone or in any way belittled a member of one tribe by mistaking him for a member of another. The Crows considered themselves, and no doubt were, of the highest caste among the Indians in this part of the country. They were of the Hidat-sa sub-stock of the Siouan family. Their native name is Absaroka, which is said to signify a species of hawk. The French called them les Corbeaux, the English translation of which this tribe has been known by since the white man found them. The tribe numbered about 10,000 in their best days.^ The Crow country, or home of the Crows, or the Absaroka, was the valley and watershed of the Big Horn river. It extended far to the eastward, including the valleys of the Rosebud, Tongue, and Powder rivers. The Crows were considered to be the best formed physically of any of the western Indians. Tall, graceful, pleasing in physiognomy, they were exceptionally fine looking. In dress and ornamentation likewise they excelled most other tribes. They made a particular point of developing long hair, which they regarded as a great ornament. But however much they might excel other tribes in physical development, they were in no degree behind them in the vices and defects of Indian character. They were the most expert of horse stealers and the most skillful robbers among the Missouri tribes. They always professed friendship among the whites and usually were peaceably disposed toward them. There is in fact almost no record of their having killed white men or having made war against them; but very many instances of their having committed robberies upon them. They fought against other tribes of Indians for many years to hold the country which they claimed as theirs and they held a great deal of it until the white man came, and then they combined with the other tribes of Indians and fought against civilization and against being dispossessed of their rich hunting grounds.

A White Indian Woman 417

During the years from 1889 to 1906, or until the Northwestern railroad was extended from Casper to Lander, the Arapahoe and Shoshone Indians from the Wind River reservation and the Arapahoe sub-agency hauled the freight and supplies from the railroad station at Casper to the reservation, the distance being about one hundred and twenty-five miles. On these trips there were usually from twenty to forty buck Indians and generally about half that number of squaws.

During the month of August, in 1900, there came to Casper with one of these bands of Indians a white woman, who wore the usual Indian garb, painted her face as the Indians do and spoke the Indian language, but she could not speak the English language. The woman attracted the attention of some of Casper's citizens, and it was learned from the white man in charge of the visiting Indians that the woman had been captured by the Cheyennes when she was a child about two years old, and had been raised with and married to an Arapahoe Indian named John Brokenhorn. The story was published in the Natrona County Tribune, and was copied in a number of western newspapers. The newspaper article attracted the attention of Mrs. A. M. Cook of Davenport, Iowa, who wrote a letter to the publisher of the Tribune, making further inquiry as to the identity of the woman. Mrs. Cook said she was very much interested in the news, for she was captured thirty-five years before at Rock Creek, Wyoming, and her baby sister, Lizzie, was captured at the same time, but she had not seen her since the night of the capture. Mrs. Cook said that her father was Jasper Fletcher, who came to the United States from England in 1861. They started for California in 1865, there being the father and mother, three sons and two daughters. They left Quincy, Illinois, in May and on the plains the Fletchers united with a train of seventy-five wagons and continued their journey until they reached Rock Creek station in Wyoming territory, thirty-one miles east of Fort Halleck. Just as they had camped for dinner at noon and when the entire Fletcher family was near a stream a little distance from the train, a war party of three hundred Cheyenne Indians sprang up all around them. Mr. Fletcher and his three sons escaped to the wagons. Mrs. Fletcher and her two daughters, the younger, Lizzie, being but two years old, were seized by the Indians. The mother was thrust through the body with a spear, and instantly killed. One of the Indians seized Lizzie, raised her to his saddle and rode off. Her sister saw her once again that day, but never afterwards. Mary Fletcher, the older girl, who was thirteen years of age, was struck with arrows in several places and pulled them out with her own hands. Menimick was chief of this band and Black Kettle was chief of the tribe. Menimick took charge. One of the leading braves took charge of Mary, and she remained his slave during the whole term of her captivity. Immediately after the capture, the band fled rapidly to the mountains, where the squaws belonging to the band were concealed. There was a white boy with the squaws, who had been captured by the band of Indians in New Mexico. The boy pointed to the valley and cried: "Look! That is the way they serve them all." The train of wagons was burning and white people were being murdered. In one of the wagons was a ten gallon cask of brandy, and the Indians had drank this and were indulging in a scalp dance, all the Indians being wildly drunk. The scalp dance is one of the most horrible sights that can be looked upon by a white person, and the oldest Fletcher girl, who was being guarded by her captors, was compelled to witness the whole affair.

The next morning the Indians tied the girl to a saddle and traveled in an easterly direction. Two days after the capture the band came upon a family named Cackle, who were on their way to Colorado. The Indians took a small child from Mrs. Cackle's arms and seizing it by the feet, dashed its brains out against the wagon hub. Mr. Cackle, two children and the mother of Mrs. Cackle were killed on the spot, but Mrs. Cackle was carried away. Three nights after the capture, however, the woman was placed against a tree in a sitting position and she was made a target of, her body being pierced by more than a dozen poison-pointed arrows^ before her prayers were answered for the ending of her terrible existence. That same week this band of Indians and the soldiers of Fort Laramie engaged in a fight, and during the combat a buck Indian stood over the Fletcher girl ready to kill her, should the soldiers get in a position to recapture her.

Darkness came on, fighting ceased, and the Indians made their escape. The next morning the white girl's face was painted red and striped green and black and her hair was colored with soot water, and her eye lashes and eye brows were burned with hot ashes. The girl was compelled to care for fourteen ponies during the day while they were traveling, packing them in the morning and unpacking them at night, and her other duty was to gather wood for the fire that was built every night. The Indian braves rode the ponies during the day and the squaws were compelled to walk, and the girl and the white boy

'To procure the poison for their arrow heads the Indians would take a fresh deer liver and fasten it to a pole, then go to a den of rattlesnakes and poke the liver toward the snakes._ The snakes would strike the liver until it was saturated with poison. The liver was then put away until it became thoroughly dry, after which it was pounded to a fine powder and then placed in a buckskin bao;, to be used as they needed it. The powder would stick like glue to any moistened surface. The Indians used these poisoned arrow heads in their battles, and it was their delight to imbed one of these poisoned points into the flesh of a white man, which meant slow but sure death.

A White Indian Woman 419

tramped on foot with the squaws. After about six weeks' traveHng the band reached the main village of the tribe, among the mountains in eastern Colorado. When all the bands were assembled there were about four thousand Indians in the village. Here they indulged in war dances, and these dances are described as the wildest orgies in savagery that possibly could be imagined.

The bands started out on another expedition after four days of feasting and dancing, and on this journey the squaws would beat and abuse the white girl to appease their anger. During the remainder of the summer and fall and winter and spring that followed the band was continually on the move; they waded and swam the creeks and rivers, struggled through deep snows and endured the severe cold and all kinds of hardships. One day in the early spring while crossing a river the ice broke loose and started rapidly down the stream. The girl was on the floating ice and was unable to escape. She was carried rapidly with the current, and the squaws laughed and danced with glee to see her moving rapidly to her destruction. She finally leaped from the ice into the stream and swam ashore, where she was welcomed by the braves as a heroine, but the squaws were jealous of her and treated her with all kinds of indignities.

In the spring of 1866, the band came to a white man's trading camp. A man named Hanger was in charge of the trading camp, and the Fletcher girl walked into his tent, dressed and painted like an Indian girl, and in English asked Hanger if he had any soap. The girl had been ordered to keep out of sight of the white men, but if anything did happen that she should come in contact with them to act as though she was an Indian girl and not to speak a word of English. One of her captors was in the trader's tent when she came in, and when she asked for the soap, the Indian struck her in the face and knocked her down. She was carried out of the tent and given in charge of the squaws. The squaws were jealous of the white girl and wanted to get rid of her, because she was becoming a favorite among the braves, but they did not dare to kill her. The squaws arranged to take her to the white man's tent, unbeknown to the bucks. Hanger told the girl that he would buy her from the captors, and in due time he paid the Indians sixteen hundred dollars in cash, one good horse and a gun for her release. The white man then placed the girl in charge of an Indian agent who took her to Fort Laramie, and from there she was taken to Fort Jura, and from there the Forty-eighth Wisconsin infantry took her to Fort Leavenworth, and from there she was sent back to Ilhnois among friends, arriving in Illinois in December, 1866, A year afterward she was married in Davenport, Iowa, to Wilham E.Cook.

After her marriage she and her husband went to Salt Lake, where the girl met her father, who informed his daughter that he lay in a ditch two days after the Indians attacked him, and he was badly wounded. Her three brothers all made their escape and two of them went to Colorado and one to California, but until the article was published in the newspaper she had never heard anything concerning her baby sister.

In due time Mrs. Cook came to Casper, and from here she went by stage to the Arapahoe sub-agency, where she found the woman and positively identified her as her sister, who was then thirty-nine years of age, having lived with the Indians for thirty-seven years. She was married to John Brokenhorn, an Arapahoe, and a number of children had been born to them. She could not speak English and she dressed and lived like the other squaws. Through an interpreter Mrs. Cook told her sister how she had been captured, how their mother had been killed and how their father and brothers made their escape, and how she herself had been compelled to live with the Indians for sixteen months, and how she made her escape. She wanted her to go back to Davenport with her where she would be cared for, and where she could dress and act like the white woman that she was, but Mrs. Brokenhorn would not go; she declared that she was an Indian, that she was satisfied to live as she had always lived; to call a tepee her home, to wear a blanket, to do the drudgery as all the squaws were doing, and to claim a full-blooded Indian as her husband, and that she could not remember anything about being captured, as her white sister had explained to her.

Mrs. Cook returned to Casper alone, and went back to her home with a broken heart. She said that although she had had many bitter experiences, when her sister refused to give up her wild life and live like a woman civilized, it was the hardest blow she had endured since she saw her mother killed by being thrust through the body with a spear by a blood-thirsty Indian.

The absolute proof that she was actually a white woman had its effect on Mrs. Brokenhorn, and although she continued to live on the reservation with her husband, she made it plain to the squaws of the tribe that she felt she was of superior birth and was of considerable more importance than the common Indians. That he had a white woman for a wife also elevated Brokenhorn, in his own estimation at least, to a higher plane than his fellow men, and while he, like most of the Indians, seldom made much of an outward display of his emotions, nevertheless he was actually raised to a higher degree than he was before the fact became established that his wife's parents were of the white race. In fact Brokenhorn felt that he was so great that when the allotment of land was made by the government he refused to accept the portion that was set aside for him. He felt that the United States government had no right to portion out to the Indians land which had been their own, and thus check the nomadic career of the red man, and he then and there set himself up as an Indian doctor, a horse trader and manufacturer of Indian curios, and by this means succeeded in realizing a modest income which was sufficient to support himself and family. He never overlooked an opportunity to condemn the United States government and belittle the motives of the white people in general. Unlike nearly all the other Indians, however, Brokenhorn would not beg, neither was he addicted to drinking whiskey and gambling, but with the small returns he received as an Indian doctor, the profit he made in swapping horses, and the small amount of money he got from the sale of the Indian curios, together with the help that his wife gave him in acting as midwife among the Indians, as well as doing some bead work and raising a few chickens, they lived very comfortably in a small cabin about half a mile from Saint Stephen's Mission. This cabin, although small, was always kept neat and clean, which was also different from the manner in which the homes of most of the Indians are kept. Brokenhorn now (1923) is seventy-three years of age, and his wife is sixty-two, and it will not be long until they are both called to the land of their fathers, and thus will end the sad, sad story of the white Indian woman, which reads more like fiction than a reality.

In the early '90's the Indians in this part of the country had not fully gotten over the idea that they could not violate the laws of the land and the customs of the country with impunity, and large bands of the red men traveled from the agencies in Dakota, Nebraska, Oklahoma, and other states to the Wind River agency in Wyoming to visit with the Arapahoes and the Shoshones. While on their way to and from the agency they would slaughter all the deer, elk, antelope and other game they could find. They generally traveled in bands of from 100 to 200, and in the game country they would spread out and cover a distance at least fifty miles wide, and after they had passed there was but little game left.

On account of the large number of Indians in these bands, the authorities were reluctant to arrest them, for it was feared they would go on the warpath, and instead of killing the deer and the antelope they would turn their guns on the white people. The Indians, of course, were aware of the fact that the authorities did not interfere with them because of their numbers and on account of the fear that they would start a fight, and their actions, while traveling through the country, were of such nature that they did not allay the feeling of fear among the whites. Every year these large bands would invade this part of the state and their wanton slaughter had driven nearly all the wild game out of the country. It was claimed that these bands not only killed the wild game, but they gathered up some of the horses and cattle that happened to be in their path.

In 1894, ^^^ people and authorities of Casper and Natrona county decided that the Indian should have no more privileges than the white man and that the wholesale slaughter of game must be stopped. Early in June of that year old Chief Red Cloud and a band of about 300 other Sioux from the Pine Ridge agency passed through the town headed for the Wind River. They camped at the Pine mountains, about thirty miles west from town and were slaughtering and feasting on antelope. A complaint was sworn out by W. J. Burton for the arrest of Chief Red Cloud, Jack Red Cloud, his son, and Dreaming Bear, charging them with being non-residents of the state and with wantonly killing game out of season, and on Sunday, June 10, 1894, Deputy Sheriff Oscar Hiestand and Town Marshal Frank Berg made the trip to Pine mountain and served the warrants on the three Indians. When the authorities came upon them, the Indians had broken camp and all of them except the big chief and his son were traveling in a westerly direction. There was an abundance of antelope meat and pelts in the chief's wagon. After the warrants had been read, the officers told the Indians that they would have to go back to Casper and stand trial. Jack Red Cloud, by many signs and a few words spoken in the Indian language, informed his father of their predicament.

The old chief at once raised his right hand high above his head, and an Indian sentinel, who was stationed on a little knoll several hundred yards distant, returned the signal to the chief and then turning his face to the west gave a few zig-zag movements with his right hand and the whole cavalcade halted. The chief then gave another signal and the sentinel signalled to the main band with his left hand and the band returned. They circled around Red Cloud and his son and the two officers. A pow-wow ensued for about fifteen minutes, during which time the officers did not know whether the Indians were discussing the advisability of scalping them or resisting arrest. After the suspense of a quarter of an hour the old chief spoke to his son and then John told the officers that they would return to Casper, provided they were allowed to bring their guns with them. The officers told them to load their firearms in their wagons and hit the trail for Casper without delay. The officers and the three Indians started for town at once, and they were followed by about fifty other Indians. The party arrived in town at about dusk, and Chief Red Cloud, Jack Red Cloud, and Dreaming Bear were placed in the county jail where they remained until Monday morning. Chief Red Cloud's wife sat on the sidewalk in front of the jail yard until after midnight wailing, moaning, and crying in an attempt to excite the other Indians so they would go on the warpath and release her husband and there were quite a number of citizens w-ho, fearing the Indians would declare war, implored the officers to turn the Indians loose. The officers were firm, however, and if the Indians had commenced hostilities they would have found the people ready, for there were fifty men armed and ready for battle any time, either day or night, that the word might be given. The Indians went about with scowling faces, but nothing more occurred to indicate their revengeful feelings.

Monday morning the three Indians were brought from the jail and placed on trial before J. K. Calkins, justice of the peace. George B. McCalmont was prosecuting attorney for the county and he fearlessly urged the conviction of the Indians and the imposing of a heavy fine. The Indians pleaded that they were without rations; that they were hungry, and that they did not know it was against the law to kill the game. Justice Calkins fined the three red men twenty dollars each, but in consideration of the promise of Chief Red Cloud that he would see to it that no more game was killed, the fine was remitted, the prisoners discharged and told to go their way. They went to the Wind river, concluded their visit, and on their return trip again began killing antelope at a destructive rate. When they reached the Casper stock yards east from town on their return trip, they were again arrested and taken before Justice Calkins for trial. They were found guilty, and the original fine of twenty dollars each was imposed upon the three of them.

They refused to pay the fine and many of them made dire threats against the people of the town and declared they would release their chief from jail by force. The armed men selected to uphold the law were hoping they would start hostilities, but the Indians soon learned that they could not bluff the officers and they were smart enough to know that the whites were ready for a fight. They finally agreed that if Sheriff O. M. Rice would allow them ^85 for Red Cloud's team, wagon, and harness, which was the amount necessary to pay the fines and court costs, they would give that officer a bill of sale and leave the country. The deal was made and the whole band of Indians left for the Pine Ridge agency without delay. If the people had not shown that they were ready for a fight, the Indians would undoubt- edly have attempted to release their chief by force. Since then the Indians have gone around Natrona county while on their way to visit the Wind River agency, but the Fremont county authorities followed the example of Natrona county and several hundred of the Indians' ponies had to be sacrificed to their mania for killing game and stealing range stock.

At the time Chief Red Cloud was arrested, he was broken in health and nearly blind, but he had not lost any of his contempt for the white people and disregarded our laws and our rights as much as he dared. His son John, who could speak the English language and was well acquainted with our laws and customs, entertained the same feeling toward the white race as his father. Dreaming Bear, who was Red Cloud's chief counsellor, was an intelligent Sioux Indian, and had received an education in Carlisle, but neither Dreaming Bear nor John Red Cloud would speak a word of English at the trial and B. E. Wheelock acted as interpreter.

How Red Cloud was given his name, and a short sketch of his life might be of interest. It is said that a young Ogallallah chief of the Sioux nation was dashing across the prairie of Dakota on his horse, followed by a band of young men of the same tribe who had chosen him as their leader. From the chief's shoulders waved a scarlet blanket, and an onlooker remarked: "He looks like a flying red cloud." This name pleased the young buck, and from that time he was known as Makh-pi-ya-luta, in the Sioux Indian tongue meaning Red Cloud. Some authorities say he was born in 1818, others claim 1821, but on his monument at the Pine Ridge reservation the date of his birth is recorded as 1824. When but a young man, by his successful leadership, he soon made himself a sub-chief. His early wars were waged against the Crows, Pawnees and other tribes, and he was always successful in his thieving and bloody campaigns. In 1848 he was a noted warrior, and began a conflict with the white men that continued for twenty years, during which time he was practically the war lord of Nebraska, Dakota, Kansas, and large parts of Iowa, Wyoming, Montana and Minnesota. Red Cloud regarded the white man as a foe and treated him as such. He never lost an opportunity to rob and kill the white men, women and children who invaded the land that he claimed belonged to the Indians. On December 21, 1866, Red Cloud, with a band of about 3,000 Sioux, attacked a party of eighty-one soldiers and two civilians under command of Captain Fetterman, who had been sent out from Fort Phil Kearney by Colonel Henry B. Carrington to relieve a wood train, which the Indians were harassing. Fetterman and his men were surrounded by the Indians and not one escaped. The battlefield was a scene of carnage indescribable. All the men, after being shot with rifles and arrows and hacked and hammered with knives and tomahawks, were, stripped naked and mutilated in a most horrible manner and then they were scalped. Again on August 2, 1867, Red Cloud and his band of not less than 3,000 warriors attacked a detachment of twenty-five soldiers, two officers and five civilians under command of Captain Powell at an improvised corral about six miles west from Fort Phil Kearney. This corral was formed by fourteen wagon boxes belonging to the contractors who were furnishing logs and wood for the fort. Using these wagon boxes as a fortification, and after fighting from about 7 o'clock in the morning until about 1:30 o'clock in the afternoon the troops defended themselves in such a manner that Red Cloud and his warriors failed to dislodge them. Again and again the Indians in great numbers rushed toward the temporary fort of the small band of soldiers, and every time the Indians came within range dozens and dozens of the redskins dropped to the ground with bullets through their bodies. It is variously estimated that from 300 to 1,000 Indians were killed in this engagement before Red Cloud gave up the fight. Four of the soldiers were killed in this engagement. This battle is now known as the "Wagon Box Fight," and undoubtedly was the greatest victory the white soldiers ever accomplished over the Indians. Thirty-two men repulsing three thousand Indians after fighting more than six hours and firing about three thousand shots from their breech-loading, single-shot Springfield rifles, and losing but four men is a record almost unbelievable. This fight, figuratively speaking, took the heart out of Chief Red Cloud. The greatest regret among the soldiers was that the term could not be applied literally.

When some of the older Indian chiefs wanted to sign a peace treaty and asked Red Cloud to join them, he replied, "No! No! I want war," and war he had for many years thereafter. Among some of the generals he fought against were Miles, Sheridan, Crook and Terry. In due time he was cooped up on a reservation, but he broke out whenever possible and committed fearful ravages upon the settlements. When old Sitting Bull led his warriors in the engagement which cost General Custer and all his men their lives Red Cloud had prepared to join his brother " Medicine Man, " but General Crook swooped down upon him and his band just as they were ready to start, taking away all their ponies and arms, and made Red Cloud a prisoner. In November, 1868, after his long years of warfare which resulted in greatly diminishing his band and the loss of thousands of miles of territory, he at last realized the hopelessness of continuing the fight and consented to sign what he termed a "peace paper."

The old warrior had been in more than 200 pitched battles since he adopted the name of Red Cloud. He was now penniless and helpless, but in more than one subsequent Indian outbreak he was suspected of having stirred up the Indians to revolt, but nothing could ever be proven against him. He was given a two-story frame house on the Pine Ridge Agency and lived at the government's expense, but respected the laws only when he was compelled to do so. He retained his leadership among a small band of Indians that had a hatred toward the government, for many years. He died at the Pine Ridge, South Dakota, reservation on December 10, 1909. At the time of his death he was blind, deaf and childish, and if the souls of Indians are cast into the lower regions where those of white men who commit black crimes are supposed to dwell, old Red Cloud had a most terrible accounting to make even to Satan before he entered the gates of Hades.

Dogae Lee was the name by which a slender man, about five feet, four inches in height, with small bead-like eyes, drooping moustache, and a general careless air, was known by in Casper in 1890.^ He had been engaged in the business of conducting a dance hall in Casper until, becoming involved in debt and at the same time jealous of his "best girl," he gave it out to a few of his confidential friends that he intended to take her out of town and give her some severe punishment, intimating that his rival would be welcome to her when he had completed his work. Accordingly, one rainy afternoon the latter part of April, Dogae procured a couple of saddle horses and, accompanied by his girl, known as Lou Polk, left the town. Parties who were in the secret expected a "rounding up" before they returned, and it soon became generally known that Dogae had taken the woman out of town to give her a whipping, but the first real news of anything serious was brought in by a sheep herder who was coming to town with a wagon. When within about two miles of town he was suddenly startled by a woman's scream and upon looking around beheld an equestrienne, hatless and with hair streaming, coming toward him with her horse on a run, and hotly pursued by a horseman who was loading his six-shooter as he came. Dashing up to the wagon she barely had time to ejaculate, "I'm Lou, and he's Dogae," when her pursuer came up, and with an oath ordered her to move on. Instead of obeying, she jumped from her horse. Dogae leveled his six-shooter at her and bade her mount or be killed on the spot. She remounted, but did not manage her horse to suit the fastidious taste of Dogae, who took the reins from her hands, and with the remark, "Come on, we're going to the British Possessions," headed the horses into the hills. Lou managed, undetected by Lee, to drop her quirt into the wagon, probably as a mute appeal to her friends in town for help. But the herder, fearing he would become involved in trouble and incur the wrath of Lee, kept silent concerning his adventure and even told the livery man, who recognized the quirt as the woman's, that he had found it in the road. However, when night passed and they had not returned, the adventure was related to Sheriff Jaycox, who immediately started in pursuit, but they had such a start that it would have been a difficult task to overtake them, even had they left a plain trail. But heavy rains had fallen immediately after their flight, obliterating the trail to such extent that no one could follow it with any degree of certainty. However, the sheriff followed the trail for several days, tracing the fugitive and his companion to near Wendover, when he rapidly circled through the country, posting settlers, cow outfits and officers by telegraph and otherwise. He had the whereabouts of Lee and the woman figured down to a matter of only a few miles and had his instructions been followed, Lee would have been captured. Riding into a cow camp on Fish creek, the sheriff informed the boys that Dogae was in the immediate vicinity and liable to arrive in their camp at any moment, in the event of which occurrence they were to disarm and hold him as a prisoner until the officers could be communicated with. They agreed to do as the sheriff asked. But, although Dogae and the woman arrived at the camp within less than three hours after the sheriff's departure, the boys, for some reason, did not carry out his orders. Instead, J. C. Shaw and Tom King informed Dogae that the sheriff had been there; that he had them hemmed in and they had better give themselves up, as it was useless to attempt to get away. Dogae was cunning enough to pretend to acquiesce, and told them to take his horses and he and Lou would have the granger, who was in charge of the ranch, take them to the railroad. Lou was then unharmed, but the round-up boys had no sooner raised camp and got well under way than Dogae drove the granger off the ranch, threw the woman on the floor and with a pocket knife cut her nose off close to her face, and threw the dismembered organ across the room, after which he took the granger's best horse, saddle and a Winchester rifle, and leaving the miserable woman at the ranch, continued his desperate flight alone. The granger returned to the house as he witnessed Dogae's departure and found the woman in the condition stated above. Hastily harnessing a team he started with the unfortunate woman for Wendover, she having picked up the piece of nose, which she kept in her handkerchief wet with cold water. At Wendover an attempt was made to secure the nose to its former place by means of court plaster, but the attempt was a failure. The mail carrier started with the woman for Douglas, and upon her arrival there Dr. Barber attempted to restore the inanimate flesh to its former place, but this could not be accomplished.

"We started out, as I supposed, on a visit and pleasure ride to Tom Hood's sheep camp," said Lou, "but from the time we saw the sheep herder, after we crossed the bridge at Casper, I was an unwilling prisoner. Dogae forced me to accompany him, by means of all kinds of horrible threats and a six-shooter. Sometimes he said he would kill me, and again that he was going to take me to Kansas. We rode without food for two days, when Dogae killed a rabbit and I ate part of it, in a cabin near Fetterman. Then we went without a morsel of food for four whole days, traveling nights and hiding in the bushes along the streams during the day. Finally, on the day he cut my nose off, we were hid in a gulch when I happened to raise my head and saw the sheriff passing a few hundred yards away. Dogae saw him at the same time, and pulling me to the ground placed his six-shooter to my ear and said if I moved he would blow my brains out. That same day we went to the cow camp. The boys told Dogae he had better turn back and give himself up. Dogae said he would, but as soon as the boys went away, he made the ranchman leave and told me he was going to cut my nose off and gouge one of my eyes out. He held me on the floor and cut my nose off as you can see, but did not touch my eyes. Then he got on the horse and rode away."

Dogae was never captured, but it is said he went to Kansas, and that is the last that was ever heard of him by anyone in this part of the country.

Lou Polk afterwards became the proprietor of the dance hall, located on the northwest corner of the alley, west across Wolcott street from where the postoflSce is now located. Booze was sold by the woman without restraint, and gambling and dancing were the pastimes, and the cowboys and dancing girls often turned the night's entertainment from a fantastic revel into a furious melee.

Men who went to the place for a night's entertainment were often robbed and then laughed at and kicked out; they were jeered at if they did not spend money lavishly, and even murder was committed, until finally the decent people of the town threatened to burn the place down if the authorities could not or did not quell the nightly disturbances. The place was not burned, and it must be presumed that the strong hand of the law was put into effect, at least suflficiently to satisfy the fastidious objectors.

Dr. Joe Benson Cremated 429

In the early '90's the buildings were torn down and a frame dwelling house was erected on the site by W. T. Evans in 1894. This frame building was afterwards veneered with brick and is still standing.

The dance hall business and the Polk woman's class at this time became unpopular in Casper and she moved farther west, and finally located in Fallan, Nevada, but the fast life undermined her health, and in 1907 she returned to Casper, a physical as well as a moral wreck, and on August 16, 1907, she died, and her remains are now resting in Highland cemetery. A stone is at the head of her grave, inscribed with her name and the dates 1867-1907. Her name when she died was not Polk, and only the pioneers of Casper recognize the grave when they pass by.

About 4 o'clock Sunday morning, October 11, 1891, Casper's town jail, a one-story frame building located in the alley northwest from where the Townsend building now stands, was destroyed by fire and Dr. Joseph Benson (whose real name was Joseph P. Riley), who had been incarcerated the night before on a charge of drunkenness and fighting with Dr. Naulteus, was cremated. The doctor had been confined in this building many times before and every time he was placed in the jail he made the night hideous and kept the people in the neighborhood awake by yelling, "Fire!" "Murder!" "Help!" He hoped by this means to induce the ofl&cials to release him, and several times he succeeded, but in time it became an old story, and failed to have the desired effect. On this particular Saturday night the doctor's cries of murder, help, and fire were kept up from eight o'clock in the evening until long after midnight, and then for a time all was quiet and the people in the neighborhood who had been kept awake by his cries, were of the opinion that the doctor had fallen asleep. But during the quiet spell the doctor evidently was busy preparing the conflagration which cost him his life, the theory being that he undertook to burn a hole in the building large enough to crawl through, and thus make his escape. He had saturated the bed clothing with water, and with this no doubt intended to smother the flames after the hole had been burned large enough for him to crawl through,

Granville E. Butler was living close to the jail, and before the dawn of day his daughter Franc (now Mrs. Franc Sheff^ner) was awakened and discovered the fire. She aroused her father, and he immediately gave the alarm. The outside of the building at that time was not burned, but smoke was issuing from the roof. A number of men had responded to the alarm and an attempt was made to batter the lock off the door with a sledge hammer, but without success. By this time a small hole had been burned through the south side of the building and several men with axes chopped the hole larger, hoping to thus gain an entrance and rescue the prisoner, but when the hole had been chopped large enough for a man's body to pass through, the doctor's body was seen lying on the floor with his arms and legs burned to a char. By this time the whole building was in flames and no one could enter, but a long-handled rake was secured and the armless and legless trunk of the unrecognizable man was drawn out and taken to the town hall. A coroner's jury returned a verdict that "the deceased came to his death while incarcerated in jail in the town of Casper, by fire, set inside the jail, by his own hand. "

Dr. Joseph P. (Benson) Riley was about fifty-one years of age. He was in Casper about two years before he met his tragic death. It was said that he was a very capable physician when he was sober, but that was very seldom. In connection with his profession as a physician he owned an interest in a barbershop and did dentistry work on the side. The local newspaper in March, 1889, announced that "Dr. Benson is now provided with dentist tools, and can extract teeth without pain. Give him a call, at the barber shop." When he was under the influence of liquor he gave several reasons for changing his name, one of them being to the eflPect that he had killed a man, was tried, and sentenced to fifteen years in the penitentiary, but made his escape. Another story he sometimes told was that he was engaged to marry a young lady, but shortly before the time set for their marriage she was taken sick and died, and inasmuch as she could not take his name, he took hers. If this latter story was true, the young lady no doubt saved herself a great deal of grief by passing on before she became the wife of the doctor.

There were some superstitious people in Casper m those days and they imagined that they often saw the ghost of Dr. Benson stalking about at midnight on the spot where the doctor passed out of this life. Strange, sweet music was first heard, low and soft, like the murmur of a summer zephyr. It gradually increased m force, the sound becoming more melancholy until it resembled the eerie wail of a lost soul. Then a ghost-like figure, clad in a white robe, arose from the ashes where the building stood and a wild and fantastic dance ensued, and this was followed by a noise, the most diabolical that could be imagined, in the midst of which the spectral figure would arise and float away in a sheet of flame.

There were a number of people who claimed to have witnessed this scene, but they were probably in about the same condition that the doctor was when he set fire to the jail. There were plenty of saloons in the town those days and there was no limit to the amount of whiskey a man could drink so long as he was able to stand before the bar and pay the price, and it may be said that there were quite a number of men here who partook of the corn juice quite freely.

Like most men who are continually under the influence of liquor, the doctor himself was not only in "hot water" most of the time, but he was the cause of considerable trouble for other people. About a week before his death, he had C. K. Bucknum arrested because Mr. Bucknum refused to allow him to take one of the latter's livery teams to be driven into the country. The trial was had before Justice Granville E. Butler. Major Palmer was attorney for Mr. Bucknum and the doctor was his own counsel. The doctor stated his case, and asked for ten thousand dollars damages, besides the costs of the trial. Major Palmer then arose and said, "Your honor, I move that the charge against my client be dismissed." John Shanley was among the large number of people present and no sooner were the words out of Major Palmer's mouth than Shanley shouted, "I second the motion." The judge declared the motion carried, the costs were assessed against the doctor, which he paid, and then imbibed so freely of strong drink that he became a nuisance and he was arrested upon a charge of being drunk and disorderly and taken to jail where he spent a sleepless night and those who lived nearby were also kept awake by his uproar.

The burning of the jail left the town and county without a building to confine the lawbreakers and for several years those who required confinement behind the barred windows and a padlock on the door were accommodated by being taken to Douglas and placed in the Converse county jail and the town of Casper and Natrona county paid one dollar per day for their keep.

Much has been said and written concerning "Calamity Jane," a female character whose name in the early days of Wyoming was probably the most familiar of any woman in the Middle West, but the stories that have been told and written about her are as varied as was her very checkered career. When Miner's Delight, in Fremont county, was a prosperous but wild gold mining town in the '6o's, Martha Jane Canary was a poor, neglected little girl, who did not know right from wrong, and whose associates were the rough men of that rough country. Among the residents of Miner's Delight at that time was a woman whose philanthropic promises induced the girl to accompany her back to New York state, where Jane was to be educated and civilized, but when the woman and girl arrived in the eflFete east, Jane was rigged out in a buckskin suit, and during the day she paraded the streets and in the night time she associated with characters whose Hght of decency had gone out and who were staggering in the dark face to face with satan. It was here that hell's broth was brewed for Martha Jane Canary, as it was for many another girl. After spending several years in the east Jane returned to the little mining town in the mountains with an ''education" that was not only surprising but shocking to her former friends and associates. With her other habits and vices she had acquired a restless, roaming, venturesome disposition, and it is claimed in 1870 she entered into service for the government as an Indian scout, and on account of her daring intrepidity, her rapidity of movement and deadly skill with firearms, as well as the qualities displayed as a rider, the Indians considered her as possessed of supernatural powers. Colonel Wm. F. Cody (Buffalo Bill) said that she was given the doleful name of "Calamity Jane" in 1872 by Captain Egan, then commander of the United States army post at Goose Creek, whose life she saved. The captain was shot by the Indians and was in danger of death when the female scout came up on her horse, shot the Indian nearest the wounded and unconscious officer, placed him in front of her on her horse and carried him to the fort and then nursed him back to health. When Captain Egan learned of his rescue he said to his preserver: "You are a good person to have around in time of calamity, and I now christen you ' Calamity Jane, the heroine of the plains. '

It is also claimed that she was the first white woman to enter the Black Hills country, having gone into that country with Prof. Jenney's military escort in 1875. By this time she had developed into a very masculine type of woman, and so nearly did her features and form conform to those of a man, that, when attired in men 's clothing, she had little difficulty in passing as a man among strangers. She was what was then termed "a good scout"; she smoked, drank whiskey, gambled, frequented the dance halls, and fought her fights and swore as the men did in those days. But with all her vices and faults it is said she had one astounding virtue - charity. She held the cup of water to the lips of many a dying pioneer; she nursed the sick for days and weeks, and emptied her purse for many a person who was in destitute circumstances. In this respect she was the "good Samaritan" of a motley crowd and many of that crowd revered her memory in return for charity or her nursing care. In the presence of suffering and sickness she was as sympathetic, tender, charitable and kind as a ministering angel, and although her masculine traits were abnormal, her womanly traits of kindness and charity would have done credit to millions of her sex. Although she was a liberal, kind-hearted person, always ready and willing to divide her worldly means with any one in need, on the other hand, she never hesitated to take anything from anyone, of which she stood in need.

In 1876 she saved the lives of six passengers and the driver of a stage coach traveling from Deadwood, South Dakota, to Wild Birch. The stage was held up by a small band of Indians, and the driver. Jack McCaul, was shot and wounded. None of the six men in the stage coach had the nerve to come out, but Jane came out, mounted the driver's seat and brought the stage with safety to Wild Birch. Jack McCaul recovered from his wound and some time later, while in Deadwood, shot and killed Wild Bill (Bill Hickok). It is said that it was a cold-blooded murder, and in a very short time McCaul's body was swinging at the end of a rope which had been fastened to the limb of a tree, and that "Calamity Jane" was the one who captured McCaul and was the leader of the mob that hanged him.

From the Black Hills Jane drifted back to Wyoming and lived in Cheyenne in the early '8o's. From Cheyenne she went to Rawlins, then to Lander, and then back to Rawlins. She came to Casper October 8, 1889, and on October 11 of that year an item appeared in the Casper Weekly Mail to the effect that, "The village is comparatively quiet of late. No shooting, yelling or carousing, and were it not for the occasional musical notes of 'Calamity Jane,' our streets would be as orderly as any eastern city.'"

She came to Fort Fetterman on the stage from Rock Creek in the summer of 1886 and from Fort Fetterman she went to the then new town of Douglas. Douglas was the terminus of the railroad and was filled with men who generally came to the new western towns and remained as long as money was easy to get and liquor flowed freely. It was with this character of men that Jane was at home.

Jeff Crawford was operating the stage line from Fetterman to Douglas at that time and Jane made the trip to Douglas on his stage. She insisted upon occupying the seat over the front boot of the coach and, as was her custom, she had with her a plentiful supply of whiskey, which she drank as she traveled along the rough road, to wash the dust from her throat and at the same time lend cheer and courage to endure the jolts of the rickety, rocking stage coach. On this trip, in addition to her supply of whiskey, she took with her a basketful of grapes and she ate grapes and drank whiskey as she traveled along the route. Her dress was of the Dollie Varden variety, dotted with pretty red flowers, and she also wore a red straw hat with a red feather in it. While fording the Platte river near Fetterman the stage went into the water up to the seat where Jane was sitting and the water caused the colors in her dress to "run." The dust along the roadside did not add to the appearance of the dress or the woman, and when the stage arrived in Douglas, Jane, with her dress of many colors, with her face and hands besmeared with grime and grape juice, with bedraggled hair, bleared eyes and sunburnt face, was a spectacle that caused many men to surround her and pass remarks not considered complimentary or pleasing to the new arrival. What she said to her tormentors need not go down in history.

She made her headquarters in Douglas and Fetterman for a year or so, then returned to the towns along the Union Pacific railroad. She was married in Rawlins to a man named Bill Steers, but as was to be expected, the couple soon separated. From Rawlins she came to Casper on the date given above. Casper was too quiet for her, although at that time the town bore a name as unenviable as even Calamity herself could wish for. From here she went to some of the soldiers' camps in the interior and finally went to Billings, Montana, in 1895. She had her biography written in that town and published, but the sale of the book did not meet her hopes and expectations and she then attempted to operate a hand laundry, but this was no more of a success and brought no better returns than the sale of her book. Then she returned to the Black Hills, the scenes of her early and gayer life. By this time she was too old to travel the pace. She had postcards made from a photograph of herself taken in her early days when she was an Indian scout. Her hair was cut short, she wore a fringed buckskin suit and she was holding in her hand a rifle. These pictures were put on sale in a number of Black Hills towns and from the sales she derived a small profit.

Some people say that she rode on the range as a cowboy and later acted as an Indian scout under General Crook at Fort Kearney, where she displayed wonderful tact and cunning and prevented many contemplated attacks by the Indians upon the white men; that she had a wealth of knowledge and was familiar with the best of the social graces, and was as much at home in a fine parlor as she was on the range. Itispossiblethatthegood thingssaidof hermayhavebeen true, but the marked transformation of her appearance, her actions, and her achievements after she returned to Wyoming from the Black Hills lead thosewho knewherto doubt that since hermaturity sheever graced a parlor, unless a western dance hall could be called such, and that her wealth of knowledge was not acquired in college, and that her social graces were along different lines from those of a refined, courtly, polished, genteel woman.

She lived in Lead, South Dakota, most of the time after she last returned to the Black Hills country, and in the summer of 1903 she closed her eyes in her last sleep, and her remains were interred beside those of Bill Hickok, who was known as "Wild Bill," and who met his death as described above. Her funeral was attended by many of the old-timers from Wyoming, Montana and the Dakotas, and was said to be the largest funeral cortege of any in the Black Hills. Thus ended the career of Martha Jane Canary-Hickok-Steers-King-Burke, alias "Calamity Jane," the woman whose euphemistic name and peculiar characteristics brought her into the limelight more than any other woman who has ever lived in the Middle West.

LANDMARKS of theOld Oregon Trail in Natrona county probably are more numerous and of more importance and interest than -^ those of any other county in any state along the 2,000-mile route. The emigrants had trekked about 800 miles by the time they reached here, and the last 200 or 300 miles of that distance was generally the most trying part of their journey, for the reason that when the travelers left Independence, Missouri, their starting point, they were inexperienced in this mode of travel; the life they were compelled to lead was entirely new to them, and the country and conditions were changed from an easy-going home life on the farm or in the shop to one full of adventure, full of excitement and full of hardships.

By the time they had reached the country that is now Central Wyoming they had been on the road fully three months, and in that time the oxen and horses had commenced to feel the effects of the strenuousness of the trip, the wagons and carts had begun to show the effects of the rough and rugged roads; the dust and sand were deep and stifling, and the scorching sun made traveling almost unendurable. It was here that the men, women and children, through privation, neglect and hardships, were reduced in health; it was here that the Indians proved the greatest menace, and it was here that disease took its greatest toll.