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THE NEZ PERCES, PART 7
The lodges, in which the sleepers were closely packed, were riddled with
bullets, and as the sleepy, dazed warriors emerged into the light, they
instantly became a target of the attacking force. The fighting was furious,
regard for sex or age impossible.' The Indians, taken so by surprise,
were at a disadvantage and quickly gave way, leaving the camp in the possession
of the soldiers, who for a few minutes supposed the battle to be over
and themselves the victors. They quickly found that to be a delusion.
The Nez Perces may have been inexcusably careless in permitting such a
surprise, but when it became a question of fighting spirit, they were
not found wanting. They were awake now, and their attack was so relentless
that they drove the soldiers from the field and back into a thick body
of timber, where they made a stand and prepared such barricades as they
could. The Indians continued the siege during the day, and also tried
to burn out the troops by setting fire to the grass. Toward midnight the
Indians retired from the field.
The punishment on both sides was very heavy, particularly for Indian battles,
which are usually more notable for noise than for fatalities. Gibbon's
loss was thirty-one killed and mortally wounded, among whom were Captain
Logan and Lieutenant James H. Bradley. Gibbon himself was wounded, as
well as his adjutant, Lieutenant (now General, retired) Woodruff. The
loss to the Indians was much greater: they acknowledge thirty three men
and many women killed. Among the Indians slain was Pahatush, one of their
greatest warriors.
After the encounter the Indians continued on toward Yellowstone Park.
On the nineteenth of August General Howard came up to within eighteen
miles of their encampment. The Indians, knowing of his proximity, rode
back over their trail and made a night raid on his camp, the principal
object of which was to cripple him by capturing his horses and pack-mules.
They were very successful, but were quickly followed by Howard's men,
and many of the animals were recaptured.' General Howard seemingly lacked
the sense of humor to appreciate this successful night raid, and gravely
announced: "At Camas meadows, the morning of the twentieth of
August, we engaged them in battle, their camp and herds being some sixteen
miles in advance." (The italics are General Howard's.)
Indians, for the purpose of minimizing their lack of success, nearly always
understate the number killed in battle. The army count of the Indian dead
was eighty-nine. Perhaps there is here no concealment of facts, as the
Indians do not usually count women and children in enumeration of people;
and of these many were unavoidably killed in such battles.
The Indians were now headed for the Yellowstone by Tacher's
pass, and Howard was anxious to intercept them before they could get through
into the park. With this object in view he marched rapidly the twenty-first
and twenty-second, and made a short, early march on the morning of the
twenty-third, at eight in the morning reaching the pass, where the Indians
had camped the previous night. One more strategic point was lost. Chance,
fate, luck, or whatever we may term it, plays sad tricks at times, and
it certainly had, in this case, with Howard and his utterly worn-out and
nearly barefoot troops. Days before he had sent a message to Lieutenant
Bacon, in command of a detachment of the main column, notifying him that
the Indians were headed for this pass, and ordering him to intercept them.
The messenger, so General Howard states, returned to him, reporting that
he could not find Bacon. He had, in fact, made no effort to do so. Bacon
in the meantime had reached Henry lake at the pass two days in advance
of the Indians, and, not knowing of their movements, marched on. Could
he have known, and held the Indians there, it is likely that the campaign
might have ended with laurels to General Howard. The disappointment to
Howard, his officers, and men was very bitter, and the latter clamored
to turn back and give up the chase. They had started into the field with
light summer equipment, and now in the beginning of wintry weather in
the mountains, the little they had started with was worn out, and they
lacked blankets to keep them warm at night. General Howard left the principal
part of his command in camp while he took a rough farm wagon and made
a trip to Virginia City, seventy miles away, to see if he could secure
the much-needed supplies. Fortunately he found ample stocks of goods.
With his munitions he returned to camp at Henry lake; but these were exceedingly
bitter days for him. He found on his return a mass of despatches from
Washington, indicating impatience with his campaign. "Where Indians
can subsist, the army can live . . . . The country and the Government
expect you to do your duty. No troops near enough to take your place.
Continue the pursuit. If you are tired, general, put in a younger man,
and return to Oregon; but the troops must go on."' Howard states
that the "gentle reprimand" spurred every member of the force
to a determination to continue the pursuit, and once more they took up
the hopeless chase. The trail now led them through the Yellowstone Park,
and they were scarcely within its borders when they met
survivors of the ill-fated Corwin party of tourists, one of whom had been
killed and others captured. The Indians passed through the park, going
out near the Stinking Water, then bore off northward to Clarks fork, thence
down to the Yellowstone. Colonel S. D. Sturgis had expected them to go
down the Stinking Water, and was there with his strong force - the Seventh
Cavalry - from Crow Agency to engage them. When he ascertained that they
had gone down Clarks fork, he marched rapidly across in an effort to intercept
them.
The Nez Perces, finding that Howard was some distance in the rear, and
not knowing of Sturgis, loitered in their march. This enabled Sturgis
to overtake them on the thirteenth of September, while they were on the
Yellowstone, and an all?day running fight ensued. The Indians slowly and
skilfully retreated, the troops constantly attempting to flank them. At
night the cavalry went into camp, utterly fatigued with the hard day,
which had resulted in slight damage to the enemy. The Indians claim that
none of their number was killed, and comparatively few were wounded.
After dark Looking Glass spoke quietly to all the head-men, telling them
to take the women and march all night, while he with the young men would
hold the enemy back if they attempted a night attack. This rear-guard
quietly stole a herd of horses from the resting troops and went on to
overtake the main party.
Sturgis took up the chase in the morning, but the night march of the Nez
Perces left him so hopelessly in the rear that he was to see them no more,
and, after following them for a couple of days, he gave up the pursuit.
As soon as the Indians found that Sturgis had dropped back, Looking Glass
again loitered on his way. He did not seem able to grasp the fact that
there were more than one body of soldiers to be watched. Had he continued
an active march on the Yellowstone, instead of resting when he found General
Howard was not close behind, he could easily have crossed the Canadian
boundary without conflict with Sturgis or Miles; and had he not stopped
to hunt after fording the Missouri, he could as easily have been across
the line and out of the reach of our troops.
After the Sturgis skirmish on the Yellowstone, the Indian force marched
rapidly to the Musselshell, westerly along that stream and across it,
and then over the Snow mountains, and passed west of the Judith mountains,
thence to the Missouri, fording that stream at Cow island. They lost some
time at the crossing, as they stopped long enough to loot the trading-post,
and once north of the river they abandoned all idea of haste. They travelled
but eight or nine miles a day, spending much of the time hunting buffalo.
This dil- atory action on the part of Looking Glass enabled Colonel Nelson
A. Miles to overtake the hostiles in the Bear Paw mountains, when they
were within sixty miles of their long-looked-for "Old Woman's land."
On the last day's march they travelled only about five miles. Then coming
upon a large herd of buffalo, they stopped and spent the day hunting,
making camp, and the next morning Looking Glass, despite the warning of
his scouts, remained in camp to dry the meat and prepare the hides. Even
then Colonel Miles was close upon them -so close that the attack began
at about eight in the morning of September thirtieth. For three days the
bitter struggle continued. One by one the chiefs fell in this hopeless
battle against heavy odds. TuhulhufSut, the medicine-man who had so long
held out for his lands and beliefs, was one of the first to be killed.
Then Alokut, the younger brother of Joseph, fell to rise no more. Pile
Of Clouds, the medicine-man who had from the beginning of the campaign
urged Looking Glass to greater activity, exclaiming, " Death is behind
us; we must hurry; there is no time to cut lodge-poles or hunt!"
fell early in the conflict. Then Looking Glass, who had led them so long,
dropped silent in the pit where he had made his last fight.
Poor Looking Glass! He possessed so many good qualities
and displayed so much skill that one is forced to the belief that had
he possessed just a little more ability the history of his tribe would
have had a different ending. And while one must appreciate the remarkable
record made by the Nez Perces under his leadership, one must also lay
the failure of the retreat largely, if not wholly, to his lack of persistent
purpose. The first day's fighting in this final battle was very severe,
and practically all the leading men were killed during that day. By the
second morning the Indians had dug pits for themselves, which gave them
a fair protection, and Miles simply continued the siege, not desiring
to waste lives in a charge. Had he realized how fearfully weak they were,
he no doubt would have made a charge and closed the battle. On the third
day of the fighting Joseph, now the only chief left, went to Miles's camp
for an interview. He was kept there two days as a prisoner, and at the
same time the Indians were holding Lieutenant L. H. Jerome, whom they
had captured. An exchange of prisoners was made half-way between the lines,
and on Joseph's return to his camp he ordered the people to prepare for
more fighting, as he did not like the words of Colonel Miles and would
not surrender. Firing was resumed for a time, but shortly another effort
was made by Miles to arrange for a surrender. Joseph's men in the meantime
were urging that they give up the hopeless struggle, since a continuance
would only mean the killing of more women and children, who were now freezing
in the snowy pits. The hopelessness of his position must have been apparent
to him. White Bird, with many followers, had already escaped to the north.
In Joseph's camp there were left but thirty warriors, twenty of whom were
disabled; and huddled in those miserable holes dug with bare hands were
three hundred and fifty women and children, many of whom also were wounded.
It is small wonder that the men urged that the fight be brought to a close.
Previous to the surrender Howard with his escort had joined Miles and
was a witness to the capitulation. There has been much discussion of the
ruthless breaking of the agreement. That Miles did assure Joseph that
he should return to Idaho is unquestioned, and it is equally certain that
every promise made by him was disregarded by the Government. That these
promises were violated was nothing more than might have been expected,
for we, as a nation, have rarely kept, unmodified, any compact made with
the Indians. In justice to General Miles it should be said that he was
untiring in his efforts to have the captives returned to Idaho, and he
was largely instrumental in finally bringing about that end.
Following the surrender, the Nez Perces were taken first to the Yellowstone,
thence to Bismarck, North Dakota, and from there to Fort Leavenworth,
Kansas, where they were kept for the remainder of the winter. From Leavenworth
they were transferred to Indian Territory, placed on low malarial ground,
and furnished such scant protection from the weather that by the end of
the first year's captivity fully one?fourth of their number had died from
disease and despondency. This unfortunate condition continued for eight
years, when, in 1885, the last of the survivors were sent north, some
being taken to the Lapwai reservation, in Idaho, but Joseph and somewhat
more than a hundred of his people were sent to Nespilem, on the Colville
reservation in eastern Washington.
Joseph continued through the remainder of his life the hopeless plea for
the Wallowa valley, one of his last acts being a journey to Washington
in one more effort. Perhaps it was discouragement, more likely it was
intuition, but at any rate he seemed to know thathis life was drawing
to a close, for while returning to his home he told those with whom he
talked that he would make no more journeys: he would soon be gone. And
so it was. In the following year, on September 21, 1904, his life's fight
closed.
The summer following Joseph's death the writer visited Nespilem, to be
present at the "Joseph potlatch" -the giving away of all his
earthly possessions. A large "long-house"- made of many tipis
joined together -was erected for the occasion, and into it was taken such
property as the old chief had collected in the last years of his life.
There was a great quantity of these personal belongings, since, owing
to Joseph's prominence, he had received many gifts from both white people
and Indians, and in addition his relatives from Lapwai had brought a great
number of new blankets, that the occasion might be creditable to the family.
The collected material made a formidable heap at one end of the large
lodge, and two days were consumed in its distribution. The widow sat at
one side of the pile, and, taking up the articles singly, handed them
to the crier, at the same time announcing through him the name of the
intended recipient. This was continued until every possession was given
away, even to the trifling articles in the widow's workbasket, and the
simplest household utensils.
This was the closing act in the drama of the life of Joseph, the last
of the Nez Perce "non-treaty" chiefs. To employ words in condemnation
of the great wrong that his people suffered would be useless, for was
it not but one of countless iniquities that have marked the white man's
dealings with the Indians since the landing of the Pilgrims at Plymouth?
EDWARD S. CURTIS
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