Personal Memoirs-2 [106]
short that I began to
fear trouble in getting subsistence up for the men. Still, it would
not do to withdraw, so I made a trip to Arbuckle chiefly for the
purpose of reorganizing the transportation, but also with a view to
opening a new route to that post, the road to lie on high ground, so
as to avoid the creeks and mud that had been giving us so much
trouble. If such a road could be made, I hoped to get up enough
rations and grain from the cornfields purchased to send out a
formidable expedition against the Cheyennes, so I set out for
Arbuckle accompanied by my quartermaster, Colonel A. J. McGonigle.
"California Joe" also went along to guide us through the scrub-oaks
covering the ridge, but even the most thorough exploration failed to
discover any route more practicable than that already in use; indeed,
the high ground was, if anything, worse than the bottom land, our
horses in the springy places and quicksands often miring to their
knees. The ground was so soft and wet, in fact, that we had to make
most of the way on foot, so by the time we reached Arbuckle I was
glad to abandon the new road project.
Finding near Arbuckle more fields of corn than those already
purchased, I had them bought also, and ordered more of the horses
back there to be fed. I next directed every available mule to be put
to hauling rations, having discovered that the full capacity of the
transportation had not yet been brought into play in forwarding
stores from Gibson, and with this regulation of the supply question I
was ready to return immediately to Camp Sill. But my departure was
delayed by California Joe, who, notwithstanding the prohibitory laws
of the Territory, in some unaccountable way had got gloriously tipsy,
which caused a loss of time that disgusted me greatly; but as we
could not well do without Joe, I put off starting till the next day,
by which time it was thought he would sober up. But I might just as
well have gone at first, for at the end of the twenty-four hours the
incorrigible old rascal was still dead drunk. How he had managed to
get the grog to keep up his spree was a mystery which we could not
solve, though we had had him closely watched, so I cut the matter
short by packing him into my ambulance and carrying him off to Camp
Sill.
By the time I got back to Sill, the Arapahoes were all in at the
post, or near at hand. The promised surrender of the Cheyennes was
still uncertain of fulfillment, however, and although Little Robe and
his family had remained with us in evidence of good faith, the
messages he sent to his followers brought no assurance of the tribe's
coming in--the runners invariably returning with requests for more
time, and bringing the same old excuse of inability to move because
the ponies were so badly off. But more time was just what I was
determined not to grant, for I felt sure that if a surrender was not
forced before the spring grass came, the ponies would regain their
strength, and then it would be doubtful if the Cheyennes came in at
all.
To put an end to these delays, Custer proposed to go out and see the
Cheyennes himself, taking with him for escort only such number of men
as could be fairly well mounted from the few horses not sent back to
Arbuckle. At first I was inclined to disapprove Custer's
proposition, but he urged it so strongly that I finally consented,
though with some misgivings, for I feared that so small a party might
tempt the Cheyennes to forget their pacific professions and seek to
avenge the destruction of Black Kettle's band. However, after
obtaining my approval, Custer, with characteristic energy, made his
preparations, and started with three or four officers and forty
picked men, taking along as negotiators Yellow Bear and Little Robe,
who were also to conduct him to the head-waters of the Red River,
where it was supposed the Cheyennes would be found. His progress was
reported
fear trouble in getting subsistence up for the men. Still, it would
not do to withdraw, so I made a trip to Arbuckle chiefly for the
purpose of reorganizing the transportation, but also with a view to
opening a new route to that post, the road to lie on high ground, so
as to avoid the creeks and mud that had been giving us so much
trouble. If such a road could be made, I hoped to get up enough
rations and grain from the cornfields purchased to send out a
formidable expedition against the Cheyennes, so I set out for
Arbuckle accompanied by my quartermaster, Colonel A. J. McGonigle.
"California Joe" also went along to guide us through the scrub-oaks
covering the ridge, but even the most thorough exploration failed to
discover any route more practicable than that already in use; indeed,
the high ground was, if anything, worse than the bottom land, our
horses in the springy places and quicksands often miring to their
knees. The ground was so soft and wet, in fact, that we had to make
most of the way on foot, so by the time we reached Arbuckle I was
glad to abandon the new road project.
Finding near Arbuckle more fields of corn than those already
purchased, I had them bought also, and ordered more of the horses
back there to be fed. I next directed every available mule to be put
to hauling rations, having discovered that the full capacity of the
transportation had not yet been brought into play in forwarding
stores from Gibson, and with this regulation of the supply question I
was ready to return immediately to Camp Sill. But my departure was
delayed by California Joe, who, notwithstanding the prohibitory laws
of the Territory, in some unaccountable way had got gloriously tipsy,
which caused a loss of time that disgusted me greatly; but as we
could not well do without Joe, I put off starting till the next day,
by which time it was thought he would sober up. But I might just as
well have gone at first, for at the end of the twenty-four hours the
incorrigible old rascal was still dead drunk. How he had managed to
get the grog to keep up his spree was a mystery which we could not
solve, though we had had him closely watched, so I cut the matter
short by packing him into my ambulance and carrying him off to Camp
Sill.
By the time I got back to Sill, the Arapahoes were all in at the
post, or near at hand. The promised surrender of the Cheyennes was
still uncertain of fulfillment, however, and although Little Robe and
his family had remained with us in evidence of good faith, the
messages he sent to his followers brought no assurance of the tribe's
coming in--the runners invariably returning with requests for more
time, and bringing the same old excuse of inability to move because
the ponies were so badly off. But more time was just what I was
determined not to grant, for I felt sure that if a surrender was not
forced before the spring grass came, the ponies would regain their
strength, and then it would be doubtful if the Cheyennes came in at
all.
To put an end to these delays, Custer proposed to go out and see the
Cheyennes himself, taking with him for escort only such number of men
as could be fairly well mounted from the few horses not sent back to
Arbuckle. At first I was inclined to disapprove Custer's
proposition, but he urged it so strongly that I finally consented,
though with some misgivings, for I feared that so small a party might
tempt the Cheyennes to forget their pacific professions and seek to
avenge the destruction of Black Kettle's band. However, after
obtaining my approval, Custer, with characteristic energy, made his
preparations, and started with three or four officers and forty
picked men, taking along as negotiators Yellow Bear and Little Robe,
who were also to conduct him to the head-waters of the Red River,
where it was supposed the Cheyennes would be found. His progress was
reported