Part 30 (1/2)

At this camp I met many old friends, among whom was Colonel Royal, who had received his promotion to the Lieutenant Colonelcy of the Third Cavalry. He introduced me to General Crook, whom I had never met before, but of whom I had often heard. He also introduced me to the General's chief guide, Frank Grouard, a half breed, who had lived six years with Sitting Bull, and knew the country thoroughly.

We remained in this camp only one day, and then the whole troop pulled out for the Tongue river, leaving our wagons behind, but taking with us a large pack train. We marched down the Tongue river for two days, thence in a westerly direction over to the Rosebud, where we struck the main Indian trail, leading down this stream. From the size of the trail, which appeared to be about four days old, we estimated that there must have been in the neighborhood of seven thousand Indians who had made the broad trail.

At this point we were overtaken by Jack Crawford, familiarly known as ”Captain Jack, the Poet Scout of the Black Hills,” and right here I will insert the following lines, written by him, just after the ”Custer Ma.s.sacre,” upon receiving from me the following dispatch:

”Jack, old boy, have you heard of the death of Custer?”

CUSTER'S DEATH.

Did I hear the news from Custer?

Well, I reckon I did, old pard; It came like a streak of lightnin', And, you bet, it hit me hard.

I ain't no hand to blubber, And the briny ain't run for years; But chalk me down for a lubber, If I didn't shed regular tears.

What for? Now look you here, Bill, You're a bully boy, that's true; As good as e'er wore buckskin, Or fought with the boys in blue; But I'll bet my bottom dollar Ye had no trouble to muster A tear, or perhaps a hundred, At the news of the death of Custer.

He always thought well of you, pard, And had it been heaven's will, In a few more days you'd met him, And he'd welcome his old scout Bill.

For if ye remember at Hat Creek, I met ye with General Carr; We talked of the brave young Custer, And recounted his deeds of war.

But little we knew even then, pard, (And that's just two weeks ago), How little we dreamed of disaster, Or that he had met the foe-- That the fearless, reckless hero, So loved by the whole frontier, Had died on the field of battle In this, our centennial year.

I served with him in the army, In the darkest days of the war: And I reckon ye know his record, For he was our guiding star; And the boys who gathered round him To charge in the early morn, War just like the brave who perished With him on the Little Horn.

And where is the satisfaction, And how will the boys get square?

By giving the reds more rifles?

Invite them to take more hair?

We want no scouts, no trappers, Nor men who know the frontier; Phil, old boy, you're mistaken, _We must have the volunteer_.

Never mind that two hundred thousand But give us a hundred instead; Send five thousand men towards Reno, And soon we won't leave a red.

It will save Uncle Sam lots of money, In fortress we need not invest, Jest wollup the devils this summer, And the miners will do all the rest.

The Black Hills are filled with miners, The Big Horn will soon be as full, And which will show the most danger To Crazy Horse and old Sitting Bull A band of ten thousand frontier men, Or a couple of forts with a few Of the boys in the East now enlisting-- Friend Cody, I leave it with you.

They talk of peace with these demons By feeding and clothing them well: I'd as soon think an angel from Heaven Would reign with contentment in H--l

And one day the Quakers will answer Before the great Judge of us all, For the death of daring young Custer And the boys who round him did fall.

Perhaps I am judging them harshly, But I mean what I'm telling ye, pard; I'm letting them down mighty easy, Perhaps they may think it is hard.

But I tell you the day is approaching-- The boys are beginning to muster-- That day of the great retribution, The day of revenge for our Custer.

And I will be with you, friend Cody, My weight will go in with the boys; I shared all their hards.h.i.+ps last winter, I shared all their sorrows and joys; Tell them I'm coming, friend William, I trust I will meet you ere long; Regards to the boys in the mountains; Yours, ever; in friends.h.i.+p still strong.

Jack was a new man in the country, but evidently had plenty of nerve and pluck, as he had brought dispatches from Fort Fetterman, a distance of 300 miles through a dangerous Indian country. The dispatches were for General Crook, and notified him that General Terry was to operate with a large command south of the Yellowstone, and that the two commands would probably consolidate somewhere on the Rosebud.

Jack at once hunted me up and gave me a letter from General Sheridan, informing me that he had appointed him (Jack) as one of the scouts.