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  [Illustration: Pike's Peak
   From a painting by Charles Craig]

THE INDIANS OF THE PIKE'S PEAK REGION

Including an Account of the Battle of Sand
Creek, and of Occurrences in El Paso
County, Colorado, during the War
with the Cheyennes and Arapahoes,
in 1864 and 1868

by

IRVING HOWBERT

Illustrated

The Knickerbocker Press
New York
1914

Copyright, 1914
by
Irving Howbert

CONTENTS

                                                            PAGE

     THE TRIBES OF THE PIKE'S PEAK REGION                      1

     TRAILS, MINERAL SPRINGS, GAME, ETC.                      27

     THE INDIAN TROUBLES OF 1864                              75

     THE THIRD COLORADO AND THE BATTLE OF
       SAND CREEK                                             93

     A DEFENSE OF THE BATTLE OF SAND CREEK                   114

     A DEFENSE OF THE BATTLE OF SAND CREEK—_CONTINUED_       147

     THE INDIAN WAR OF 1868                                   187

ILLUSTRATIONS

                                                          FACING
                                                            PAGE

     PIKE'S PEAK                                  _Frontispiece_

     OURAY                                                    60

     COLONEL JOHN M. CHIVINGTON                              117

     GOVERNOR JOHN EVANS                                     123

INTRODUCTION

For the most part this book is intentionally local in its character.
As its title implies, it relates principally to the Indian tribes that
have occupied the region around Pike's Peak during historic times.

The history, habits, and customs of the American Indian have always
been interesting subjects to me. From early childhood, I read everything
within my reach dealing with the various tribes of the United States and
Mexico. In 1860, when I was fourteen years of age, I crossed the plains
between the Missouri River and the Rocky Mountains twice, and again in
1861, 1865, and 1866; each time by ox- or horse-team, there being no
other means of conveyance. At that time there were few railroads west of
the Mississippi River and none west of the Missouri. On each of these
trips I came more or less into contact with the Indians, and during my
residence in Colorado from 1860 to the present time, by observation and
by study, I have become more or less familiar with all the tribes of
this Western country.

From 1864 to 1868, the Indians of the plains were hostile to the whites;
this resulted in many tragic happenings in that part of the Pike's Peak
region embracing El Paso and its adjoining counties, as well as elsewhere
in the Territory of Colorado. I then lived in Colorado City, in El Paso
County, and took an active part in the defense of the settlements during
all the Indian troubles in that section. I mention these facts merely to
show that I am not unfamiliar with the subject about which I am writing.
My main object in publishing this book is to make a permanent record of
the principal events of that time.

So far as I know, the public has never been given a detailed account of
the Indian troubles in El Paso County during the years 1864 and 1868.
At that time there was no newspaper published in the county and the few
newspapers of the Territory were small affairs, in which little attention
was given to anything outside of their immediate localities. The result
was that news of tragic happenings in our part of the Territory seldom
passed beyond the borders of our own county.

I have thought best to begin with a short account of the tribes occupying
the Pike's Peak region prior to the coming of the white settler, adding
to it extracts from the descriptions given by early explorers, together
with an account of the game, trails, etc., of this region. All these
facts will no doubt be of interest to the inhabitant of the present day,
as well as of value to the future historian.

I took part in the battle of Sand Creek, and in many of the other events
which I mention. Where I have no personal knowledge of any particular
event, I have taken great pains to obtain the actual facts by a comparison
of the statements of persons who I knew lived in the locality at the
time. Consequently, I feel assured of the substantial accuracy of every
account I have given.

In giving so much space to a defense of the battle of Sand Creek, I am
impelled by an earnest desire to correct the false impression that has
gone forth concerning that much maligned affair. Statements of prejudiced
and unreliable witnesses concerning the battle were sent broadcast at
the time, but except through government reports, that only few read,
never before, to my knowledge, has publicity been given to the statement
of the Governor of the Territory, telling of the conditions leading
up to the battle, or to the sworn testimony of the colonel in command
at the engagement, or of the officer in command of the fort near which
it was fought. That the battle of Sand Creek was not the reprehensible
affair which vindictive persons have represented it to be, I believe is
conclusively proven by the evidence which I present.

                                                                   I. H.

     COLORADO SPRINGS,
       November 1, 1913.

The Indians of the Pike's Peak Region

CHAPTER I

THE TRIBES OF THE PIKE'S PEAK REGION

It would be interesting to know who were the occupants of the Pike's Peak
region during prehistoric times. Were its inhabitants always nomadic
Indians? We know that semi-civilized peoples inhabited southwestern
Colorado and New Mexico in prehistoric times, who undoubtedly had lived
there ages before they were driven into cliff dwellings and communal
houses by savage invaders. Did their frontier settlements of that period
ever extend into the Pike's Peak region? The facts concerning these
matters, we may never know. As it is, the earliest definite information
we have concerning the occupants of this region dates from the Spanish
exploring expeditions, but even that is very meager. From this and other
sources, we know that a succession of Indian tribes moved southward along
the eastern base of the Rocky Mountains during the two hundred years
before the coming of the white settler, and that during this period,
the principal tribes occupying this region were the Utes, Comanches,
Kiowas, Cheyennes, Arapahoes, and Sioux; and, further, that there were
other tribes such as the Pawnees and Jicarilla Apaches, who frequently
visited and hunted in this region.

The Jicarilla Apaches are of the Athapascan stock, a widely distributed
linguistic family, which includes among its branches the Navajos, the
Mescalaros of New Mexico, and the Apaches of Arizona. Notwithstanding the
fact that they were kindred people, the Jicarillas considered the latter
tribes their enemies. However, they always maintained friendly relations
with the Utes, and the Pueblos of northern New Mexico, and intermarriages
between members of these tribes were of frequent occurrence. The mother
of Ouray, the noted Ute chief, was a Jicarilla Apache.

From the earliest period, the principal home of the Jicarilla Apaches
was along the Rio Grande River in northern New Mexico, but in their
wanderings they often went north of the Arkansas River and far out
on the plains, where they had an outpost known as the Quartelejo. By
reason of the intimate relations existing between the Jicarillas and
the Pueblo Indians, this outpost was more than once used as a place of
refuge by members of the latter tribes. Bancroft, in his history of New
Mexico, says that certain families of Taos Indians went out into the
plains about the middle of the seventeenth century and fortified a place
called "Cuartalejo," which undoubtedly is but another spelling of the
name Quartelejo. These people remained at Quartelejo for many years,
but finally returned to Taos at the solicitation of an agent sent out
by the Government of New Mexico. In 1704, the Picuris, another Pueblo
tribe, whose home was about forty miles north of Santa Fé, abandoned
their village in a body and fled to Quartelejo, but they also returned
to New Mexico two years later. Quartelejo is frequently mentioned in
the history of New Mexico, and its location is described as being 130
leagues northeast of Santa Fé. In recent years the ruin of a typical
Pueblo structure has been unearthed on Beaver Creek in Scott County,
Kansas, about two hundred miles east of Colorado Springs, which, in
direction and distance from Santa Fé, coincides with the description
given of Quartelejo, and is generally believed to be that place.

Aside from the Jicarilla Apaches, the Utes, living in the mountainous
portion of the region now included in the State of Colorado, were the
earliest occupants of whom there is any historical account. They were
mentioned in the Spanish records of New Mexico as already inhabiting
the region to the north of that Territory in the early part of the
seventeenth century. At that time, and for many years afterward, they
were on peaceable terms with the Spanish settlers of New Mexico. About
1705, however, something occurred to disturb their friendly relations,
and a war resulted which lasted fifteen to twenty years, during which
time many people were killed, numerous ranches were plundered, and many
horses stolen. Although the Utes already owned many horses, it is said
that in these raids they acquired so many more that they were able to
mount their entire tribe. During that time various military expeditions
were sent against the Utes as well as against the Comanches, who had
first appeared in New Mexico in 1716. In 1719, the Governor of New Mexico
led a military force, consisting of 105 Spaniards and a large number of
Indian auxiliaries, into the region which is now the State of Colorado,
against the hostile bands. The record of the expedition says that it
left Santa Fé on September 15th and marched north, with the mountains
on the left, until October 10th. In this twenty-five days' march the
expedition should have gone far beyond the place where Colorado Springs
now stands. Although the expedition failed to overtake the Indians, the
latter ceased their raids for a time, but their subsequent outbreaks
showed that their friendship for the New Mexican people could not be
entirely depended upon, although they mingled with them to such an
extent that a large portion of the tribe acquired a fair knowledge of
the Spanish language.

The Utes were an offshoot of the Shoshone family, the branches of which
have been widely distributed over the Rocky Mountain region from the
Canadian line south into Mexico. It is now generally conceded that the
Aztecs of Mexico and the Utes belong to the same linguistic family. It is
probable that in the march of the former toward the south, many centuries
ago, the Utes were left behind, remaining in their savage state, while
the Aztecs, coming in contact with the semi-civilized nations of the
South, gradually reached the state of culture which they had attained
at the time of the conquest of Mexico by the Spaniards. I am firmly of
the opinion that these Indians, and in fact all the Indians of America,
are descendants of Asiatic tribes that crossed over to this continent by
way of Bering Strait at some remote period. These tribes may, however,
have been added to at various times by chance migrations from Japan,
the Hawaiian and South Sea islands. It is known that in historic times
the Japanese current has thrown upon the Pacific Coast fishing-boats,
laden with Japanese people, which had drifted helplessly across the
Pacific Ocean. It is, therefore, fair to assume that what is known to
have occurred in recent times might also have frequently occurred in the
remote past, and if this be so, the intermarriage of these people with
the native races would undoubtedly have had a decided influence upon the
tribes adjacent to the Pacific Coast. There seems to be no reason why
the people of the Hawaiian Islands should not have visited our shores,
as those islands are not much farther distant from the Pacific Coast than
are certain inhabited islands in other directions. These same conclusions
have been reached by many others who have made a study of the question.

The _National Geographic Magazine_ of April, 1910, contained an article
written by Miss Scidmore on "Mukden, the Manchu Home," in which she says:

     When I saw the Viceroy and his suite at a Japanese fête
     at Tairen, whither he had gone to pay a state visit, I was
     convinced as never before of the common origin of the North
     American Indian and the Chinese or Manchu Tartars. There
     before me might as well have been Red Cloud, Sitting Bull, and
     Rain-in-the-Face, dressed in blue satin blankets, thick-soled
     moccasins, and squat war-bonnets with single bunches of feathers
     shooting back from the crown. Manchu eyes, Tartar cheek-bones,
     and Mongol jaws were combined in countenances that any Sioux
     chief would recognize as a brother.

The Ute Indians were well-built, but not nearly as tall as the Sioux,
Cheyennes, Arapahoes, or any of the tribes of the plains. Their type of
countenance was substantially the same as that of all American Indians.
They were distinctly mountain Indians, and that they should have been
a shorter race than those of the plains to the east is peculiar, as
it reverses the usual rule. Might not this have been the result of an
infusion of Japanese blood in the early days of the Shoshones when their
numbers were small? And possibly from this same source came the unusual
ability of the Utes in warfare.

As Indians go, the Utes were a fairly intelligent people. They had a less
vicious look than the Indians of the plains, and as far as my observation
goes, they were not so cruel. They ranged over the mountainous region
from the northern boundaries of the present State of Colorado, down as
far as the central part of New Mexico. Their favorite camping-place,
however, was in the beautiful valleys of the South Park, and other places
in the region west of Pike's Peak. The South Park was known to the old
trappers and hunters as the Bayou Salado, probably deriving its name
from the salt marshes and springs that were abundant in the western part
of that locality.

Game was to be found in greater abundance in the South Park and the
country round about than in almost any other region of the Rocky
Mountains, and for that reason its possession was contended for most
strenuously year after year by all the tribes of the surrounding country.
For a time in the summer season, the Utes were frequently driven away
from this favorite region by the tribes of the plains who congregated in
the South Park in great numbers as soon as the heat of the plains became
uncomfortable. However, the Utes seldom failed to retain possession
during most of the year, as they were remarkably good fighters and more
than able to hold their own against equal numbers.

In point of time, the Comanches were the next tribe of which we have any
record, as inhabiting this region. These Indians also were a branch of the
Shoshone nation. They led the procession of tribes that moved southward
along the eastern base of the Rocky Mountains during the seventeenth
and the first half of the eighteenth centuries. When first heard of,
they were occupying the territory where the Missouri River emerges from
the Rocky Mountains. Later, they were driven south by the pressure of
the Sioux Indians and other tribes coming in from the north and east.
For a while they occupied the Black Hills, and then were pushed still
farther south by the Kiowas. They joined their kinsmen the Utes in raids
upon the settlements of New Mexico in 1716, and it was to punish the
Comanches as well as the Utes, that the Governor of New Mexico, in 1719,
led the military expedition into the country now within the boundaries
of Colorado. In 1724, Bourgemont, a French explorer mentions them under
the name of the Padouca, as located between the headwaters of the Platte
and Kansas rivers, but later accounts show that before the end of that
century they had been pushed south of the Arkansas River by the pressure
of the tribes to the north.

During the stay of the Comanches in this region, they were for a time
friendly with the Utes, and the two tribes joined each other in warfare
and roamed over much of the same territory, but later, for some unknown
reason, they for a time engaged in a deadly warfare. The old legend
of the Manitou Springs mentions the possible beginning of the trouble.
The incident around which the legend is woven, may be an imaginary one,
but it is a well-known fact that long and bitter wars between tribes
resulted from slighter causes. It is said that a long war between the
Delawares and Shawnees originated in a quarrel between two children over
a grasshopper.

The Comanches were a nation of daring warriors, and after their removal
to the south of the Arkansas River, they became a great scourge to the
settlements of Texas and New Mexico, finally extending their raids as
far as Chihuahua, in Mexico. As a result of these operations, they became
rich in horses and plunder obtained in their raids, besides securing as
captives many American and Spanish women and children. One of their most
noted chiefs in after days was the son of a white woman who had been
captured in Texas in her childhood, and who, when grown, had married
a Comanche chief. The Government arranged for the release of both the
American and Spanish captives, but in more than one instance women who
had been captured in their younger days refused to leave their Comanche
husbands, notwithstanding the strongest urging on the part of their own
parents.

Following the Comanches came the Kiowas, a tribe of unknown origin,
as their language seems to have no similarity to that of any of the
other tribes of this country. According to their mythology, their first
progenitors emerged from a hollow cottonwood log, at the bidding of a
supernatural ancestor. They came out one at a time as he tapped upon the
log, until it came to the turn of a fleshy woman, who stuck fast in the
hole, and thus blocked the way for those behind her, so that they were
unable to follow. This, they say, accounts for the small number of the
Kiowa tribe.

The first mention of this tribe locates them at the extreme sources of
the Yellowstone and Missouri rivers, in what is now central Montana.
Later, by permission of the Crow Indians, they took up their residence
east of that tribe and became allied with them. Up to this time they
possessed no horses and in moving about had to depend solely upon dogs.
They finally drifted out upon the plains; here they first procured
horses, and came in contact with the Arapahoes, Cheyennes, and, later,
with the Sioux. The tribe probably secured horses by raids upon the
Spaniards of New Mexico, as the authorities of that Territory mention
the Kiowas as early as 1748, while the latter were still living in the
Black Hills. It may not be generally known that there were no horses
upon the American continent prior to the coming of the Spaniards. The
first horses acquired by the Indians were those lost or abandoned by
the early exploring expeditions, and these were added to later by raids
upon the Spanish settlements of New Mexico. The natural increase of the
horses so obtained gave the Indians, in many cases, a number in excess
of their needs. Previous to acquiring horses, the Indians used dogs
in moving their belongings around the country. As compared with their
swift movements of later days this slow method of transportation very
materially limited their migrations.

By the end of that century, the Kiowas had drifted south into the region
embraced by the present State of Colorado, probably being forced to do so
by the pressure of the Sioux, Cheyennes, and Arapahoes, who were at that
time advancing from the north and east. As the Kiowas advanced southward,
they encountered the Comanches; this resulted in warfare that lasted
many years, in the course of which the Comanches were gradually driven
south of the Arkansas River. When, finally, the war was terminated, an
alliance was effected between the two tribes, which thereafter remained
unbroken. In 1806, the Kiowas were occupying the country along the
eastern base of the mountains of the Pike's Peak region. From Lieut.
Zebulon Pike's narrative, we learn that James Pursley, who, according to
Lieutenant Pike, was the first American to penetrate the immense wilds
of Louisiana, spent a trading season with the Kiowas and Comanches in
1802 and 1803. He remained with them until the next spring, when the
Sioux drove them from the plains into the mountains at the head of the
Platte and Arkansas rivers. In all probability their retreat into the
mountains was through Ute Pass, as that was the most accessible route.
In the same statement Lieutenant Pike mentions Pursley's claim to having
found gold on the headwaters of the Platte River. By the year 1815,
most of the Kiowas had been pushed south of the Arkansas River by the
Cheyennes and Arapahoes, but not until 1840 did they finally give up
fighting for the possession of this region.

The Cheyennes and Arapahoes were of the Algonquin linguistic family,
whose original home was in the New England States and southern Canada.
When first heard of, about 1750, the Cheyennes were located in northern
Minnesota. Later, about 1790, they were living on the Missouri, near the
mouth of the Cheyenne River. Subsequently they moved west into the Black
Hills, being forced to do so by the enmity of the Sioux. Here they were
joined by the Arapahoes, a tribe of the same Algonquin stock, and from
that time on the two tribes were bound together in the closest relations.

Beginning about 1800, these two federated tribes, accompanied by some
of the Sioux, with whom they had made peace, gradually moved southward
along the eastern base of the Rocky Mountains. Dr. James, the historian
of Long's expedition which visited the Pike's Peak region in 1820,
mentions the fact that about four years previous there had been a large
encampment of Indians on a stream near Platte Cañon, southwest of Denver,
which had assembled for trading purposes. It appears that the Cheyennes
had been supplied with goods by British traders on the Missouri River,
and had met to exchange these goods for horses. The tribes dwelling on
the fertile plains of the Arkansas and Red rivers always had a great
number of horses, which they reared with much less difficulty than did
the Cheyennes, who usually spent the winter in the country farther to
the north, where the cold weather lasted much longer and feed was less
abundant. After many years of warfare with the Kiowas, the Cheyennes
and Arapahoes were victorious, and by a treaty, made in 1840, secured
undisputed possession of the territory north of the Arkansas River and
east of the mountains. As this was only eighteen years before the coming
of the whites, the Cheyennes and Arapahoes could not rightfully claim this
region as their ancestral home. The country acquired by the Cheyennes and
Arapahoes, through their victory over the Kiowas, embraced a territory
of more than eighty thousand square miles. As in those two tribes there
were never more than five thousand men, women, and children, all told,
the area was out of all proportion to their numbers.

Early in 1861, the Government made a treaty with the Cheyennes and
Arapahoes by which these tribes gave up the greater part of the lands
claimed by them in the new Territory of Colorado. For this they were to
receive a consideration of four hundred and fifty thousand dollars, to
be paid in fifteen yearly installments, the tribes reserving for their
own use a tract about seventy miles square located on both sides of the
Arkansas River in the southeastern part of the Territory.

From the time of their first contact with the whites, the Cheyennes and
Arapahoes were alternately friendly or hostile, just as their temper
or whim dictated upon any particular occasion. With the old trappers
and hunters of the plains, the Cheyennes had the reputation of being
the most treacherous and untrustworthy at all times and in all places,
of any of the tribes of the West. The Arapahoes, while occasionally
committing depredations against the whites, were said to be somewhat
different in temperament, in that they were not so sullen and morose as
the Cheyennes, and were less treacherous and more open and trustworthy
in their dealings. This estimate of the characteristics of the two
tribes was fully confirmed in our contact with them in the early days
of Colorado.

The Cheyennes were continuously hostile during the years 1855, 1856,
and 1857, killing many whites and robbing numerous wagon-trains along
the Platte River, which at that time was the great thoroughfare for
travelers to Utah, California, Oregon, and other regions to the west of
the Rocky Mountains. In 1857, the Cheyennes were severely punished in a
number of engagements by troops under command of Colonel E. V. Sumner
of the regular army, and as a result, they gave little trouble during
the next five or six years.

In the early days, the Arapahoes came in touch with the whites to a much
greater extent than did the Cheyennes. The members of the latter tribe
usually held aloof, and by their manner plainly expressed hatred of the
white race. Horace Greeley, in his book describing his trip across the
plains to California in 1859, tells of a large body of Arapahoes who
were encamped on the outskirts of Denver in June of that year, because
of the protection they thought it gave them from their enemies the Utes.
I saw this band when I passed through Denver in June of the following
year.

The Sioux were one of the largest Indian nations upon the American
continent. So far as is known, their original home was upon the Atlantic
Coast in North Carolina, but by the time Europeans began to settle in that
section they had drifted into the Western country. Their first contact
with the white race occurred in the upper Mississippi region. These white
people were the French explorers who had penetrated into almost every
part of the interior long before the English had made any serious attempt
at the exploration of the wilderness west of the Allegheny Mountains.
The friendly relations between the French and the Sioux continued for
many years, but when the French were finally supplanted by the English
in most localities, the Sioux made an alliance with the latter which was
maintained during the Revolutionary War, and continued until after the
War of 1812. Subsequent to the year 1812, the Sioux gradually drifted
still farther westward, and not many years later their principal home
was upon the upper Missouri River. The recognized southern boundary
of their country was the North Platte River, but on account of their
friendly relations with the Cheyennes and Arapahoes, the Sioux often
wandered along the base of the mountains as far as the Arkansas River,
and, being at enmity with the Utes, they frequently joined the Cheyennes
and Arapahoes in raids upon their common enemy.

While the Pawnees seldom spent much time in this region, they often
came to the mountains in raids upon their enemies the Sioux, Cheyennes,
Arapahoes, and Kiowas and upon horse-stealing expeditions. The Pawnees
were members of the Caddoan family, whose original home was in the
South. In this they were exceptional, since almost every other tribe in
this Western country came from the north or east. From time immemorial
their principal villages were located on the Loup Fork of the Platte
River and on the headwaters of the Republican River, about three hundred
miles east of the Rocky Mountains. The Pawnees were a warlike tribe
and extended their raids over a very wide stretch of country, at times
reaching as far as New Mexico. They carried on a bitter warfare with the
Sioux, Cheyennes, and Arapahoes, and at times were engaged in warfare
with almost every one of the surrounding tribes. They were a courageous
people, and were generally victorious, where the numbers engaged were at
all nearly equal. The Spaniards of New Mexico became acquainted with this
tribe as early as 1693, and made strenuous efforts to maintain friendly
relations with them; with few exceptions these efforts were successful.

In 1720, the Spanish authorities of New Mexico learned that French
traders had established trading stations in the Pawnee country, and
were furnishing the Indians with firearms. This news greatly disturbed
the Spaniards and resulted in a military expedition being organized at
Santa Fé, to visit the principal villages of the Pawnees for the purpose
of impressing that tribe with the strength of the Spanish Government,
and thus to counteract the influence of the French. The expedition
started from Santa Fé in June of that year. It was under the command of
Lieutenant-Colonel Villazur, of the Spanish regular army, and was composed
of fifty armed Spaniards, together with a large number of Jicarilla
Apache Indians as auxiliaries, making the expedition an imposing one
for the times. The route taken, as nearly as I can determine from the
description given in Bancroft's history of New Mexico, was northerly
along the eastern base of the mountains, passing not very far from where
Colorado Springs is now located. After reaching the Platte River, at no
great distance east of the mountains, the expedition proceeded down the
valley of that stream until it came in contact with the Pawnees, but
before a council could be held, the latter surprised the Spaniards, killed
the commanding officer, and in the fight that ensued almost annihilated
the party. The surviving half-dozen soldiers, who were mounted, saved
themselves by flight. Not yet having acquired horses, the Pawnees could
not pursue them. These survivors, after untold hardships, reached Santa
Fé a month or two later to tell the tale. Another instance of a Spanish
force visiting the Pawnees occurred in 1806. When Lieutenant Pike on his
exploring tour visited the Pawnees on the Republican River in September
of that year, he found that a Spanish military force had been there just
ahead of him. This force had been dispatched from Santa Fé to prevent
him from exploring the country north of the Arkansas River, to which
the Spanish Government insistently laid claim. However, the expedition
failed of its purpose, inasmuch as it marched back up the Arkansas River
to the mountains, and returned to Santa Fé without having seen or heard
of Lieutenant Pike.

When Colonel Long on his exploring expedition visited this tribe in
1819, he found the Pawnees mourning the loss of a large number of
their warriors who had been killed in an encounter with the Cheyennes
and Arapahoes in the region adjacent to the Rocky Mountains. It seems
that ninety-three warriors left their camp on the Republican River and
proceeded on foot to the mountains on a horse-stealing expedition. The
party finally reached a point on the south side of the Arkansas River,
having up to that time accomplished nothing. Here they were discovered
and attacked by a large band of Cheyennes and Arapahoes. During the fight
that followed, over fifty of the Pawnees were killed; but the attacking
party suffered so severely that after the fighting had continued for a
day or more, they were glad to allow the surviving Pawnees, numbering
about forty, to escape. Most of the latter were wounded and it was with
difficulty that they succeeded in reaching their homes.

All the tribes that I have mentioned were purely nomadic, and, aside
from the Pawnees, depended entirely upon game for a living.

The Pawnees were the only tribe that engaged in agriculture. Their summer
camps were generally located at some favorable spot for growing corn,
beans, pumpkins, and other vegetables. They usually remained at such place
until their crops were harvested, when they made large excavations in the
ground in which they stored their grain and vegetables for future use.
After covering the excavation they carefully obliterated all evidence
of it, in order to prevent discovery. They would then go off on hunting
expeditions, returning later in the winter to enjoy the fruits of the
summer's toil of their squaws—for the warrior never degraded himself by
doing any labor which the squaw could perform. Their habitations, when
staying any length of time in one locality, were made of poles, brush,
grass, and earth, and were more durable structures than the lodges used
by the other tribes of the plains.

The Utes, Comanches, Kiowas, Sioux, Cheyennes, and Arapahoes used
the conical wigwam, which was easily erected and quickly taken down.
The conical wigwam consisted of a framework of small pine poles about
two and one-half inches in diameter and twenty feet in length. In its
erection, three poles were tied together about two or three feet from
the smaller end; the three poles were then set up, their bases forming a
triangle sufficiently far apart to permit of a lodge about twenty feet
in diameter. The remaining sixteen to eighteen poles used were then
placed in position to form a circle, their bases about four feet apart
and their tops resting in the fork of the three original poles. Among
the plains Indians, where buffalo were plentiful, the covering for this
framework consisted of buffalo skins which had been tanned and sewed
together by the squaws. It was so shaped that a flap could be thrown
back at the top, leaving an opening through which the smoke could escape,
and another at the bottom for use as a door. The bottom of this covering
was secured by fastening it to small stakes driven into the ground. All
of the bedding, buffalo robes, and other belongings of the Indians were
taken into the wigwam and piled around the sides; a small hole was then
dug in the center of the earthern floor, in which the fire was built.
In taking down the tents, preparatory to moving about the country, the
squaws removed the covering from the framework, and folded it into a
compact bundle; they took the poles down and laid them in two parallel
piles three or four feet apart, and then led a pony in between them. The
upper end of each pile was fastened to the pack-saddle, leaving the other
end to drag upon the ground. Just back of the pony's tail the covering
of the tent was fastened to the two sets of poles, on top of which the
babies and small children were placed. In this way the Indians moved
their camps from place to place. The squaws did all the work of making
these tent coverings, procuring the poles, setting up the tents, and
taking them down. The warrior never lifted his hand to help, as it was
beneath the dignity of a warrior to do any kind of manual labor.

Among the favorite camping-places of the Indians in El Paso County,
Colorado, the region extending along the west side of Cheyenne Creek just
above its mouth was probably used most frequently. There were evidences
of other camping places at different points farther up the creek, that
had been used to a lesser extent. Their tent-poles, in being dragged
over the country, rapidly wore out, and for that reason the Indians of
the plains found it necessary to come to the mountains every year or two
to get a new supply. The thousands of small stumps that were to be seen
on the side of Cheyenne Mountain at the time of the first settlement of
this region gave evidence that many Indians had secured new lodge poles
in that locality. It is probable that this was the reason why their tents
were so often pitched in the valley of Cheyenne Creek, and undoubtedly
this is the origin of the name by which the creek is now known.

On account of its close proximity to the country of the Utes, the Indians
of the plains must necessarily have had to come to this locality in
very considerable force and must at all times have kept a very sharp
lookout in order to avoid disaster. It is known that the Utes maintained
pickets in this vicinity much of the time. In the early days, any one
climbing to the top of the high sandstone ridge back of the United States
Reduction Works at Colorado City might have seen numerous circular places
of defense built of loose stone, to a height of four or five feet, and
large enough to hold three or four men comfortably. These miniature
fortifications were placed at intervals along the ridge all the way
from the Fountain to Bear Creek and doubtless were built and used by
the Utes. From these small forts, the Indian pickets could overlook the
valley of the Fountain, the Mesa, and keep watch over the country for
a long distance out on the plains. At such times as the Utes maintained
sentinels there it would have been difficult for their enemies to reach
this region without being discovered.

CHAPTER II

TRAILS, MINERAL SPRINGS, GAME, ETC.

The principal Indian trail into the mountains from the plains to the
northeast of Pike's Peak came in by way of the Garden Ranch, through what
used to be known as Templeton's Gap. It crossed Monument Creek about a
mile above Colorado Springs, then followed up a ridge to the Mesa; then
it went southwest over the Mesa and across Camp Creek, passing just
south of the Garden of the Gods; from there it came down to the Fountain,
about a mile west of Colorado City, and there joined another trail that
came from the southeast up the east side of Fountain Creek. The latter
trail followed the east side of the Fountain from the Arkansas River,
and crossed Monument Creek just below the present Artificial Ice Plant
in Colorado Springs, from which point it ran along the north side of the
Fountain to a point just west of Colorado City, where it crossed to the
south side, then up the south side of the creek to the Manitou Springs.
From this place it went up Ruxton Creek for a few hundred yards, then
crossed over to the west side, then up the creek to a point just below
the Colorado Midland Railway bridge; thence westward up a long ravine
to its head; then in the same direction near the heads of the ravines
running into the Fountain and from a quarter to a half of a mile south
of that creek for two miles or more. The trail finally came down to
the Fountain again just below Cascade Cañon and from there led up the
Fountain to its head, where it branched off in various directions.

The trail I have described from Manitou to Cascade Cañon is the famous
old Ute Pass trail which undoubtedly had been used by various tribes of
Indians for hundreds of years before the discovery of America. We know
it was used later for many generations by the Spanish explorer, the
hunter, the trapper, and the Indian until the white settler came, and
even after that by occasional war-parties, up to the time the Indians
were driven from the State of Colorado. Marble markers were placed at
intervals along this trail by the El Paso County Pioneer Society in the
summer of 1912. This trail and those leading into it from the plains
were well-traveled roads and gave indication of long and frequent use.

Dr. Edwin James, botanist and historian of Long's expedition, who visited
the Pike's Peak region in 1820, says:

     A large and much frequented road passes the springs and enters
     the mountains running to the north of the high peak.

He says of the principal spring at Manitou:

     The boiling spring is a large and beautiful fountain of water,
     cool and transparent and aërated with carbonic acid. It rises
     on the brink of a small stream which here descends from the
     mountains at the point where the bed of this stream divides the
     ridge of sandstone, which rests against the base of the first
     granitic range. The water of the spring deposits a copious
     concretion of carbonate of lime, which has accumulated on
     every side, until it has formed a large basin overhanging the
     stream, above which it rises several feet. The basin is of snowy
     whiteness and large enough to contain three or four hundred
     gallons, and is constantly overflowing. The spring rises from
     the bottom of the basin with a rumbling noise, discharging
     about equal volumes of air and of water, probably about fifty
     gallons per minute, the whole kept in constant agitation. The
     water is beautifully transparent, has a sparkling appearance,
     the grateful taste and exhilarating effect of the most highly
     aërated artificial mineral water.

     In the bottom of the spring a great number of beads and
     other small articles of Indian adornment were found, having
     unquestionably been left there as a sacrifice or present to
     the springs, which are regarded with a sort of veneration by
     the savages. Bijeau, our guide, assured us he had repeatedly
     taken beads and other adornments from these springs and sold
     them to the same savages who had thrown them in.

Mr. Rufus B. Sage, who describes himself as a New Englander, after passing
through this region in 1842, published a book giving his experiences and
observations. In speaking of the Fontaine qui Bouille Creek, now known
as the Fountain and of the Manitou Springs, he says:

     This name is derived from two singular springs situated within
     a few yards of each other at the creek's head, both of which
     emit water in the form of vapor, with a hissing noise; one
     strongly impregnated with sulphur and the other with soda. The
     soda water is fully as good as any manufactured for special
     use and sparkles and foams with equal effervescence. The
     Arapahoes regard this phenomenon with awe, and venerate it as
     the manifestation of the immediate presence of the Great Spirit.
     They call it the "Medicine Fountain" and seldom neglect to
     bestow their gifts upon it whenever an opportunity is presented.
     These offerings usually consist of robes, blankets, arrows,
     bows, knives, beads, moccasins, etc., which they either throw
     into the water, or hang upon the surrounding trees.

     Sometimes a whole village will visit the place for the purpose
     of paying their united regard to this sacred fountain.

     The scenery in the vicinity is truly magnificent. A valley
     several hundred yards in width heads at the springs, and
     overlooking it from the west in almost perpendicular ascent
     tower the lofty summits of Pike's Peak, piercing the clouds
     and reveling in eternal snow. This valley opens eastward and
     is walled in at the right and left at the mountain's base by
     a stretch of high table-land surmounted by oaks and stately
     pines, with now and then an interval displaying a luxuriant
     coating of grass. The soil is a reddish loam and very rich.
     The trees, which skirt the creek as it traces its way from
     the fountain, are generally free from underbrush, and show
     almost as much regularity of position as if planted by the
     hand of art. A lusty growth of vegetation is sustained among
     them to their very trunks, which is garnished by wild flowers
     during the summer months, that invest the whole scene with an
     enchantment peculiar to itself.

     The climate, too, is far milder in this than in adjoining
     regions, even of a more southern latitude. "'Tis here summer
     first unfolds her robes, and here the longest tarries"; the
     grass, continuing green the entire winter, here first feels the
     genial touch of spring. Snow seldom remains upon the ground to
     exceed a single day, even in the severest weather, while the
     neighboring hills and prairies present their white mantlings
     for weeks in succession.

     As the creek emerges from the mountains, it increases in
     size by the accession of several tributaries, and the valley
     also expands, retaining for a considerable distance the
     distinguishing traces above described.

     The vicinity affords an abundance of game, among which are deer,
     sheep, bear, antelope, elk, and buffalo, together with turkeys,
     geese, ducks, grouse, mountain fowls, and rabbits. Affording
     as it does such magnificent and delightful scenery, such rich
     stores for the supply of human wants both to please the taste
     and enrapture the heart; so heavenlike in its appearance and
     character, it is no wonder the untaught savage reveres it as a
     place wherein the Good Spirit delights to dwell, and hastens
     with his free-will offerings to the strange fountain, in the
     full belief that its bubbling waters are the more immediate
     impersonation of Him whom he adores.

     And there are other scenes adjoining this that demand a passing
     notice. A few miles from the springs, and running parallel
     with the eastern base of the mountain range, several hundred
     yards removed from it, a wall of coarse, red granite towers
     to a varied height of from fifty to three hundred feet. This
     wall is formed of an immense strata planted vertically. This
     mural tier is isolated and occupies its prairie site in silent
     majesty, as if to guard the approach to the stupendous monuments
     of Nature's handiwork, that form the background, disclosing
     itself to the beholder for a distance of over thirty miles.

Lieut. John C. Frémont, who visited the springs in 1843, while on his
second expedition, was just as enthusiastic about them. He says:

     On the morning of the 16th of July we resumed our journey.
     Our direction was up the Boiling Springs River, it being my
     intention to visit the celebrated springs from which the river
     takes its name, and which are on its upper waters at the foot
     of Pike's Peak.

     Our animals fared well while we were on this stream, there
     being everywhere a great abundance of grass. Beautiful clusters
     of flowering plants were numerous, and wild currants, nearly
     ripe, were abundant. On the afternoon of the 17th, we entered
     among the broken ridges at the foot of the mountain, where
     the river made several forks.

     Leaving the camp to follow slowly, I rode ahead in the
     afternoon, in search of the springs. In the meantime, the
     clouds, which had been gathering all the afternoon over the
     mountains, began to roll down their sides, and a storm so
     violent burst upon me that it appeared I had entered the store
     house of the thunder storms. I continued, however, to ride
     along up the river until about sunset, and was beginning to
     be doubtful of finding the springs before the next day, when
     I came suddenly upon a large, smooth rock about twenty feet in
     diameter, where the water from several springs was bubbling and
     boiling up in the midst of a white encrustation, with which it
     had covered a portion of the rock. As it did not correspond
     with the description given me by the hunters, I did not stop
     to taste the water, but dismounting, walked a little way up
     the river, and passing through a narrow thicket of shrubbery
     bordering the stream, stepped directly upon a huge, white rock
     at the foot of which the river, already becoming a torrent,
     foamed along, broken by a small fall.

     A deer which had been drinking at the spring was startled by
     my approach, and springing across the river bounded off up the
     mountain. In the upper part of the rock, which had been formed
     by the deposition, was a beautiful, white basin overhung by
     currant bushes, in which the cold, clear water bubbled up,
     kept in constant motion by the escaping gas, and overflowing
     the rock which it had almost entirely covered with a smooth
     crust of glistening white.

     I had all day refrained from drinking, reserving myself for
     the springs, and as I could not well be more wet than the rain
     had already made me, I lay down by the side of the basin and
     drank heartily of the delightful water.

     As it was now beginning to grow dark, I rode quickly down the
     river on which I found the camp a few miles below. The morning
     of the 18th was beautiful and clear, and all of the people
     being anxious to drink of these famous waters, we encamped
     immediately at the springs and spent there a very pleasant day.

     On the opposite side of the river is another locality of
     springs which are entirely of the same nature. The water has
     a very agreeable taste, which Mr. Preuss found very much to
     resemble that of the famous Selter spring in the Grand Duchy
     of Nassau, a country famous for wine and mineral waters.

     Resuming our journey on the morning of the 19th, we descended
     the river, in order to reach the mouth of the eastern fork
     which I proposed to ascend. The left bank of the river is here
     very much broken. There is a handsome little bottom on the
     right, and both banks are exceedingly picturesque, a stratum
     of red rock in nearly perpendicular walls, crossing the valley
     from north to south.

Lieut. George F. Ruxton, an officer of the British Army, who was seeking
the restoration of his health by roughing it in the Rocky Mountains,
camped at the Manitou Springs for a number of months in the early part
of 1847.

Writing of his trip from Pueblo up the Fontaine qui Bouille in the month
of March of that year, and of his stay at the springs afterwards, he says:

     The further I advanced up the creek and the nearer the
     mountains, the more advanced was the vegetation. As yet,
     however, the cottonwoods and the larger trees in the bottom
     showed no signs of life, and the currant and cherry bushes
     still looked dry and sapless. The thickets, however, were filled
     with birds and resounded with their songs, and the plains were
     alive with prairie dogs, busy in repairing their houses and
     barking lustily as I rode through their towns. Turkeys, too,
     were calling in the timber, and the boom of the prairie fowl
     at rise and set of sun was heard on every side. The snow had
     entirely disappeared from the plains, but Pike's Peak and the
     mountains were still clad in white.

     On my way I met a band of hunters who had been driven in by
     a party of Arapahoes who were encamped on the eastern fork of
     the Fontaine qui Bouille [Monument Creek]. They strongly urged
     me to return, as, being alone, I could not fail to be robbed
     of my animals, if not killed myself. However, in pursuance of
     my fixed rule never to stop on account of Indians, I proceeded
     up the river and camped on the first fork for a day or two,
     hunting in the mountains. I then moved up the main fork on
     which I had been directed by the hunters to proceed, in order
     to visit the far famed springs, from which the creek takes its
     name. I followed a very good lodge-pole trail which struck the
     creek before entering the broken country, being that used by
     the Utes and Arapahoes on their way to the Bayou Salado. Here
     the valley narrowed considerably, and turning an angle with
     the creek, I was at once shut in by mountains and elevated
     ridges which rose on each side of the stream. This was now a
     rapid torrent tumbling over the rocks and stones and fringed
     with oak and a shrubbery of brush. A few miles on, the cañon
     opened into a little shelving glade and on the right bank of
     the stream, raised several feet above it, was a flat, white
     rock, in which was a round hole where one of the celebrated
     springs hissed and bubbled with its escaping gas. I had been
     cautioned against drinking this, being directed to follow the
     stream a few yards to another, which is the true soda spring.

     I had not only abstained from drinking that day, but with the
     aid of a handful of salt, which I had brought with me for the
     purpose, had so highly seasoned my breakfast of venison, that
     I was in a most satisfactory state of thirst. I therefore
     proceeded at once to the other spring, and found it about forty
     yards from the first and immediately above the river, issuing
     from a little basin in the flat, white rock, and trickling over
     the edge into the stream. The escape of gas in this was much
     stronger than in the other, and was similar to water boiling
     smartly.

     I had provided myself with a tin cup holding about a pint, but
     before dipping it in I divested myself of my pouch and belt,
     and sat down in order to enjoy the draught at my leisure. I
     was half dead with thirst, and tucking up the sleeves of my
     hunting shirt, I dipped the cup into the midst of the bubbles
     and raised it, hissing and sparkling, to my lips. Such a
     draught! Three times without drawing a breath was it replenished
     and emptied, almost blowing up the roof of my mouth with its
     effervescence. It was equal to the very best soda water, but
     possesses that fresh, natural flavor which manufactured water
     cannot impart.

     The Indians regard with awe the medicine waters of these
     fountains, as being the abode of a Spirit who breathes through
     the transparent water, and thus by his exhalations causes
     the perturbation of its surface. The Arapahoes especially
     attribute to this water god, the power of ordaining the success
     or miscarriage of their war expeditions, and as their braves
     pass often by the mysterious springs when in search of their
     hereditary enemies, the Utes, in the "Valley of Salt," they
     never fail to bestow their votive offerings upon the water
     sprite, in order to propitiate the Manitou of the fountain
     and insure a fortunate issue to their path of war. Thus at
     the time of my visit, the basin of the spring was filled with
     beads and wampum and pieces of red cloth and knives, while
     the surrounding trees were hung with strips of deer skin,
     cloth, and moccasins; to which, had they been serviceable, I
     would most sacrilegiously have helped myself. The signs, too,
     around the spring, plainly showed that here a war dance had
     been executed by the braves, and I was not a little pleased
     to find that they had already been here and were not likely
     to return the same way; but in this supposition I was quite
     astray.

The large spring referred to by Dr. James, Sage, Frémont, Ruxton, and
the other writers whom I have quoted, is the one now enclosed and used
by the bottling works at Manitou. Ruxton says the two springs were
intimately connected with the separation of the Comanche and the Snake,
or Ute tribes, and he gives the following legend concerning the beginning
of the trouble:

     Many hundreds of winters ago, when the cottonwoods on the Big
     River were no higher than an arrow, and the red men, who hunted
     the buffalo on the plains, all spoke the same language, and the
     pipe of peace breathed its social cloud of kinnikinnik whenever
     two parties of hunters met on the boundless plains—when,
     with hunting grounds and game of every kind in the greatest
     abundance, no nation dug up the hatchet with another because
     one of its hunters followed the game into their bounds, but,
     on the contrary, loaded for him his back with choice and
     fattest meat, and ever proffered the soothing pipe before
     the stranger, with well-filled belly, left the village,—it
     happened that two hunters of different nations met one day
     on a small rivulet, where both had repaired to quench their
     thirst. A little stream of water, rising from a spring on a
     rock within a few feet of the bank, trickled over it and fell
     splashing into the river. To this the hunters repaired; and
     while one sought the spring itself, where the water, cold and
     clear, reflected on its surface the image of the surrounding
     scenery, the other, tired by his exertions in the chase, threw
     himself at once to the ground and plunged his face into the
     running stream.

     The latter had been unsuccessful in the chase, and perhaps his
     bad fortune and the sight of the fat deer, which the other
     hunter threw from his back before he drank at the crystal
     spring, caused a feeling of jealousy and ill-humour to take
     possession of his mind. The other, on the contrary, before
     he satisfied his thirst, raised in the hollow of his hand a
     portion of the water, and, lifting it towards the sun, reversed
     his hand and allowed it to fall upon the ground,—a libation
     to the Great Spirit who had vouchsafed him a successful hunt,
     and the blessing of the refreshing water with which he was
     about to quench his thirst.

     Seeing this, and being reminded that he had neglected the usual
     offering, only increased the feeling of envy and annoyance
     which the unsuccessful hunter permitted to get the mastery
     of his heart; and the Evil Spirit at that moment entering his
     body, his temper fairly flew away, and he sought some pretense
     by which to provoke a quarrel with the stranger Indian at the
     spring.

     "Why does a stranger," he asked, rising from the stream at
     the same time, "drink at the spring-head, when one to whom
     the fountain belongs contents himself with the water that runs
     from it?"

     "The Great Spirit places the cool water at the spring," answered
     the other hunter, "that his children may drink it pure and
     undefiled. The running water is for the beasts which scour the
     plains. Au-sa-qua is a chief of the Shos-shone; he drinks at
     the head water."

     "The Shos-shone is but a tribe of the Comanche," returned the
     other; "Waco-mish leads the grand nation. Why does a Shos-shone
     dare to drink above him?"

     "He has said it. The Shos-shone drinks at the spring-head; other
     nations of the stream which runs into the fields. Au-sa-qua
     is chief of his nation. The Comanche are brothers. Let them
     both drink of the same water."

     "The Shos-shone pays tribute to the Comanche. Waco-mish leads
     that nation to war. Waco-mish is chief of the Shos-shone, as
     he is of his own people."

     "Waco-mish lies; his tongue is forked like the rattlesnake's;
     his heart is black as the Misho-tunga [bad spirit]. When the
     Manitou made his children, whether Shos-shone or Comanche,
     Arapahoe, Shi-an, or Pā-né, he gave them buffalo to eat, and
     the pure water of the fountain to quench their thirst. He said
     not to one, Drink here, and to another, Drink there; but gave
     the crystal spring to all, that all might drink."

     Waco-mish almost burst with rage as the other spoke; but his
     coward heart alone prevented him from provoking an encounter
     with the calm Shos-shone. _He_, made thirsty by the words he had
     spoken—for the red man is ever sparing of his tongue—again
     stooped down to the spring to quench his thirst, when the
     subtle warrior of the Comanche suddenly threw himself upon
     the kneeling hunter, and, forcing his head into the bubbling
     water, held him down with all his strength, until his victim
     no longer struggled, his stiffened limbs relaxed, and he fell
     forward over the spring, drowned and dead.

     Over the body stood the murderer, and no sooner was the deed
     of blood consummated than bitter remorse took possession of
     his mind, where before had reigned the fiercest passion and
     vindictive hate. With hands clasped to his forehead, he stood
     transfixed with horror, intently gazing on his victim, whose
     head still remained immersed in the fountain. Mechanically he
     dragged the body a few paces from the water, which, as soon
     as the head of the dead Indian was withdrawn, the Comanche
     saw suddenly and strangely disturbed. Bubbles sprang up from
     the bottom, and rising to the surface, escaped in hissing
     gas. A thin vapoury cloud arose, and gradually dissolving,
     displayed to the eyes of the trembling murderer the figure of
     an aged Indian, whose long, snowy hair and venerable beard,
     blown aside by a gentle air from his breast, discovered the
     well-known totem of the great Wan-kan-aga, the father of the
     Comanche and Shos-shone nation, whom the tradition of the
     tribe, handed down by skillful hieroglyphics, almost deified
     for the good actions and deeds of bravery this famous warrior
     had performed when on earth.

     Stretching out a war-club towards the affrighted murderer,
     the figure thus addressed him:

     "Accursed of my tribe! this day thou hast severed the link
     between the mightiest nations of the world, while the blood of
     the brave Shos-shone cries to the Manitou for vengeance. May
     the water of thy tribe be rank and bitter in their throats."
     Thus saying, and swinging his ponderous war-club (made from
     the elk's horn) round his head, he dashed out the brains of
     the Comanche, who fell headlong into the spring, which, from
     that day to the present moment, remains rank and nauseous, so
     that not even when half dead with thirst, can one drink the
     foul water of that spring.

     The good Wan-kan-aga, however, to perpetuate the memory of the
     Shos-shone warrior, who was renowned in his tribe for valour
     and nobleness of heart, struck, with the same avenging club, a
     hard, flat rock which overhung the rivulet, just out of sight
     of this scene of blood; and forthwith the rock opened into
     a round, clear basin, which instantly filled with bubbling,
     sparkling water, than which no thirsty hunter ever drank a
     sweeter or a cooler draught.

     Thus the two springs remain, an everlasting memento of the foul
     murder of the brave Shos-shone, and the stern justice of the
     good Wan-kan-aga; and from that day the two mighty tribes of
     the Shos-shone and Comanche have remained severed and apart;
     although a long and bloody war followed the treacherous murder
     of the Shos-shone chief, and many a scalp torn from the head
     of the Comanche paid the penalty of his death.

In telling of the great quantities of game in this region, Ruxton says:

     Never was there such a paradise for hunters as this lone and
     solitary spot.

Game abounded on every hand. Bear, elk, deer, mountain sheep, antelope,
and grouse were in abundance in the surrounding mountains and valleys.
Of buffalo there were few except in the valleys west of Pike's Peak and
in the Bayou Salado, or South Park, as it is now known.

Ruxton further says:

     It is a singular fact that within the last two years the
     prairies, extending from the mountains to one hundred miles
     or more down the Arkansas, have been entirely abandoned by
     the buffalo; indeed, in crossing from the settlements of New
     Mexico, the boundary of their former range is marked by skulls
     and bones, which appear fresher as the traveler advances
     westward and towards the waters of the Platte.

The evidences that Ruxton here mentions were still apparent twelve or
fourteen years later, when the first settlers of this region arrived.
Buffalo skulls and bones were scattered everywhere over the plains, but
live buffalo could seldom be found nearer than one hundred miles east
of the mountains.

The reason for this has been variously stated, some claiming that a
contagious disease broke out among the buffalo in the early forties, which
virtually exterminated those along the eastern base of the mountains.
Others say that about that time there was a tremendous snowfall in the
early part of the winter which covered the whole country along the eastern
base of the mountains to a depth of six to eight feet, and that as a
result all the buffalo within the region of the snowfall starved to death
during the following winter. It is very possible that the latter reason
may have been the true one, as a heavy fall of snow in the early part of
the winter is not unknown. In the winter of 1864-1865 the antelope of
this region nearly starved to death, owing to a two-foot fall of snow,
on the last day of October and the first day of November, 1864, which
covered the ground to a considerable depth for most of the winter.

While it is true that there were no buffalo in this immediate region at
the time Ruxton was here, nor afterwards, it is well-known that they
had been fairly plentiful in earlier years. Lieutenant Pike tells of
killing five buffalo the day he reached the present site of Pueblo in
1806, and a day or two afterwards he killed three more on Turkey Creek,
about twenty miles south of where Colorado Springs now stands, and saw
others while climbing the mountains in his attempt to reach the "high
point," as he calls it, now known as Pike's Peak.

In 1820, Long's expedition, on its way from Platte Cañon, killed several
buffalo on Monument Creek, a few miles south of the Divide; and later,
while camped on the Fountain a short distance below the site of the
present city of Colorado Springs, killed several more.

Sage says that in 1842, during a five days' stay at Jimmy's Camp (ten
miles east of the present city of Colorado Springs), he "killed three
fine buffalo cows."

After Ruxton had been camped near Manitou Springs for two or three weeks,
while out hunting one day, he ran across an Indian camp, which startled
him very much. No Indians were in sight at the time, but later he got a
glimpse of two carrying in a deer which they had killed. The next morning
Ruxton concluded that as a matter of safety, he had better remove his
camp to some more secluded spot. The following day a fire was started
on the side of the mountain to the south of the springs, which rapidly
spread in every direction. He says:

     I had from the first no doubt that the fire was caused by the
     Indians who had probably discovered my animals, and thinking
     that a large party of hunters might be out, had taken advantage
     of a favorable wind to set fire to the grass, hoping to secure
     the horses and mules in the confusion, without risk of attacking
     the camp.

In order to be out of reach of the fire, Ruxton moved his camp down the
Fontaine qui Bouille six or seven miles. He says:

     All this time the fire was spreading out on the prairies. It
     extended at least five miles on the left bank of the creek
     and on the right was more slowly creeping up the mountainside,
     while the brush and timber in the bottom was one mass of flame.
     Besides the long, sweeping line of the advancing flame the
     plateaus on the mountainside and within the line were burning
     in every direction as the squalls and eddies down the gullies
     drove the fire to all points. The mountains themselves being
     invisible, the air from the low ground where I then was,
     appeared a mass of fire, and huge crescents of flame danced as
     it were in the very sky, until a mass of timber blazing at once
     exhibited the somber background of the stupendous mountains.

The fire extended towards the waters of the Platte upwards of forty
miles, and for fourteen days its glare was visible on the Arkansas River
fifty miles distant.

The testimony of Ruxton bears out information I have from other
sources, that a large portion of the great areas of dead timber on
the mountainsides of this region is the result of fires started by the
various Indian tribes in their wanderings to and fro. Old trappers say
that the Utes frequently went out upon the plains on horse-stealing
expeditions; that when they had located a camp of their enemies, they
would stealthily creep in among their ponies in the night, round them up,
and start off towards the mountains with as many as they could hastily
gather together. They were sure to be pursued the following morning when
the raid had been discovered, and often the Utes with the stolen herd
would find their pursuers close after them by the time they reached the
mountains. In that case, they knew that if they followed up Ute Pass
they were likely to be overtaken, but by crossing over the northern
point of Cheyenne Mountain and on to the west along a trail that ran not
very far distant from the route now followed by the Cripple Creek Short
Line, they could much more easily elude their pursuers. If, when west of
Cheyenne Mountain the Utes found their enemies gaining upon them, they
would start a timber fire to cover their retreat. These fires would,
of course, spread indefinitely and ruin immense tracts of timber. This
is doubtless one of the principal reasons why our mountainsides are so
nearly denuded of their original growth of trees. These horse-stealing
raids were no uncommon occurrence. Colonel Dodge, in his book _Our Wild
Indians_, tells of one made by the Utes in 1874, which was daring as
well as successful. He says:

     A mixed band of some fifteen hundred Sioux and Cheyennes,
     hunting in 1874, went well up on the headwaters of the
     Republican River in search of buffalo. The Utes found them out
     and a few warriors slipped into their camp during the night,
     stampeded their ponies at daylight, and in spite of the hot
     pursuit of the Sioux, reached the mountains with over two
     hundred head.

Ruxton frequently mentions the Ute Pass, and states that it was the
principal line of travel to and from the South Park for all the Indian
tribes of this region at the time of his arrival, as well as previous
thereto.

There was another much-used trail into the South Park which entered the
mountains near the present town of Cañon City. It led in a northwesterly
direction from the latter place, and reached the South Park proper near
Hartsell Hot Springs. This route was used by the Indians occupying the
country along the Arkansas River and to the south of it. In addition
to the two principal trails, there were others of lesser note, as, for
example, that over the north end of Cheyenne Mountain, and one west of
the present town of Monument; but these were difficult and were not used
to any great extent.

In 1806, Lieutenant Pike attempted to lead his exploring expedition
over the Cañon City trail, but evidently had a very poor guide, and,
as a result, lost his way very soon after leaving the Arkansas River.
They wandered about through the low mountains west of the present mining
camp of Cripple Creek, and finally reached the Platte near the west end
of Eleven-Mile Cañon where the river emerges from the South Park. He
mentions having found near that point a recently abandoned Indian camp
which he estimates must have been occupied by at least three thousand
Indians.

Thomas J. Farnham, on his way to Oregon in 1839, passed through the South
Park, reaching it from the Arkansas River by the trail already described.
He tells of his trip, in a rudely bound little book of minutely fine
print, published in 1843. In recounting his journey from the Arkansas
River to the South Park, he frequently mentions James Peak as being
to the east of the route he was traveling. Previously, when encamped
on the Arkansas River, below the mouth of the Fontaine qui Bouille, he
speaks of the latter stream as heading in James Peak, eighty miles to
the northwest; he also states that one of the branches of the Huerfano
originates in Pike's Peak, seventy to eighty miles to the south. This
brings to mind the fact that previous to about 1840 the peak that we
now know as Pike's Peak was known as James Peak. Major S. H. Long, who
was in command of the expedition that explored the Pike's Peak region in
1820, gave it this name in honor of Dr. James, who is supposed to have
been the first white man to ascend it. After about 1840, this name was
gradually dropped and Pike's Peak was substituted.

Farnham was very much pleased with the South Park, and says of it, after
describing its streams, valleys, and rocky ridges:

     This is a bird's-eye view of Bayou Salado, so named from the
     circumstance that native rock salt is found in some parts of
     it. We were in the central portion of it. To the north and
     south and west its isolated plains rise one above another,
     always beautiful and covered with verdure during the months of
     spring and summer. A sweet spot this, for the romance of the
     future as well as of the present and past. The buffalo have for
     ages resorted here about the last days of July from the arid
     plains of the Arkansas and the Platte; and hither the Utes,
     Cheyennes and Arapahoes, Black Feet, Crows and Sioux of the
     north, have for ages met and hunted and fought and loved, and
     when their battles and hunts were interrupted by the chills
     and snows of November, they separated for their several winter
     resorts.

     How wild and beautiful the past, as it comes up fledged with
     the rich plumage of the imagination! These vales, studded
     with a thousand villages of conical skin wigwams, with their
     thousands of fires blazing on the starry brow of night! I see
     the dusky forms crouching around the glowing piles of ignited
     logs, in family groups, whispering the dreams of their rude
     love, or gathered around the stalwart form of some noble chief
     at the hour of midnight, listening to the harangue of vengeance
     or the whoop of war that is to cast the deadly arrow with the
     first gleam of morning light.

     Or, may we not see them gathered, a circle of old braves,
     around an aged tree, surrounded each by the musty trophies
     of half a century's daring deeds. The eldest and richest in
     scalps rises from the center of the ring and advances to the
     tree. Hear him!

     "Fifty winters ago when the seventh moon's first horn hung
     over the green forests of the Ute hills, myself and five others
     erected a lodge for the Great Spirit on the snows of the White
     Butte and carried there our wampum and skins, and the hide
     of a white buffalo. We hung them in the Great Spirit's lodge
     and seated ourselves in silence till the moon had descended
     the western mountain, and thought of the blood of our fathers
     that the Comanches had killed when the moon was round and
     lay on the eastern plains. My own father was scalped, and the
     fathers of five others were scalped, and their bloody heads
     were gnawed by the wolf. We could not live while our father's
     lodges were empty and the scalps of their murderers were not
     in the lodges of our mothers. Our hearts told us to make these
     offerings to the Great Spirit who had fostered them on the
     mountains, and when the moon was down and the shadows of the
     White Butte were as dark as the hair of a bear, we said to the
     Great Spirit: 'No man can war with the arrows from the quiver
     of thy storms. No man's word can be heard when thy voice is
     among the clouds. No man's hand is strong when thy hand lets
     loose the wind. The wolf gnaws the heads of our fathers and
     the scalps of their murderers hang not in the lodges of our
     mothers. Great Father Spirit, send not thine anger out. Hold
     in thy hand the winds. Let not thy great voice drown the death
     yell while we hunt the murderers of our fathers.' I and the
     five others then built in the middle of the lodge a fire, and
     in its bright light the Great Spirit saw the wampum and the
     skins and the white buffalo hide. Five days and nights I and
     five others danced and smoked the medicine and beat the board
     with sticks and chanted away the powers of the great Medicine
     Men, that they might not be evil to us and bring sickness into
     our bones. Then when the stars were shining in the clear sky,
     we swore (I must not tell what, for it was in the ear of the
     Great Spirit), and went out of the lodge with our bosoms full
     of anger against the murderers of our fathers whose bones were
     in the jaws of the wolf and went for their scalps, to hang
     them in the lodges of our mothers." See him strike the aged
     tree with his war-club; again, again, nine times. "So many
     Comanches did I slay, the murderers of my father, before the
     moon was round again and lay upon the eastern plains."

Farnham, continuing, says:

     This is not merely an imaginary scene of former times in the
     Bayou Salado. All the essential incidents related happened
     yearly in that and other hunting-grounds, whenever the old
     braves assembled to celebrate valorous deeds of their younger
     days. When these exciting relations were finished, the young
     men of the tribe who had not yet distinguished themselves were
     exhorted to seek glory in a similar way; and woe to him who
     passed his manhood without ornamenting the door of his lodge
     with the scalps of his enemies.

     This valley is still frequented by these Indians as a summer
     haunt, when the heat of the plains renders them uncomfortable.
     The Utes were scouring it when we passed. Our guide informed
     us that the Utes reside on both sides of the mountains,—that
     they are continually migrating from one side to the other,—that
     they speak the Spanish language,—that some few half-breeds
     have embraced the Catholic faith,—that the remainder yet
     hold the simple and sublime faith of their forefathers, in
     the existence of one great, creating, and sustaining Cause,
     mingled with the belief in the ghostly visitations of their
     deceased Medicine Men, or Diviners;—that they number one
     thousand families.

     He also stated that the Cheyennes were less brave and more
     thievish than any of the other tribes living on the plains.

Farnham's description of the incantations practiced by the Utes is in the
main probably true; the information on which it was based was doubtless
obtained from his guide.

Ruxton tells of the use of the trail west of the present town of Monument
by a war-party of Arapahoes on their way to the South Park to fight the
Utes. In the night the band had surprised a small company of trappers
on the head of Bijou Creek, killing four of them and capturing all of
their horses. The following morning two of the trappers, one of whom
was slightly wounded, started in pursuit of the Indians, intending if
possible to recover their animals. They followed the trail of the Indians
to a point in the neighborhood of the present town of Monument where
they found that the band had divided, the larger party, judging from the
direction taken, evidently intending to enter the mountains by way of
Ute Pass. The other party, having all the loose animals, started across
the mountains by the pass to the west of Monument, probably hoping to
get the better of the Utes by coming in from two different directions.
The trappers followed the latter party across the first mountains where
they found their stolen animals in charge of three Indians. The trappers
surprised and killed all three of them, recaptured their animals, and
then hurried on to the Utes, giving such timely warning as enabled them
to defeat the Arapahoes in a very decisive manner.

The battles in the South Park and on the plains between the contending
tribes were seldom of a very sanguinary nature. If the attacking Indians
happened to find their enemies on level ground, they would circle around
them just out of gunshot at first, gradually coming closer, all the time
lying on the outside and shooting from under the necks of their ponies.
These ponies were generally the best that the tribe afforded and were
not often used except for purposes of war. While engaged in battle, the
Indians seldom used saddles, and in place of bridles had merely a piece
of plaited buffalo-hide rope, tied around the under jaw of the pony. If
the defending party was located in a fairly good defensive position, the
battle consisted of groups of the attacking party dashing in, firing,
and then dashing out again. This was kept up until a few warriors had
been killed or wounded and a few scalps had been taken; then the battle
was over, one side or the other retreating. With an Indian, it was a
waste of time to kill an enemy unless his scalp was taken, as that was
the evidence necessary to prove the prowess of the warrior. Engagements
of the kind I have mentioned have occurred in almost every valley in
and around the South Park at some time during the hundreds of years of
warfare that was carried on in that region.

Frémont, on his return trip from California, during his second exploring
expedition, crossed the Rocky Mountains by way of Middle Park, then
across South Park, reaching the Arkansas River near the present town of
Cañon City. On his way through the South Park he witnessed one of these
battles, in describing which he says:

     In the evening a band of buffalo furnished a little excitement
     by charging through our camp. On the following day we descended
     the stream by an excellent buffalo trail along the open grassy
     bottom of the river. On our right, the Bayou was bordered by
     a mountainous range crested with rocky and naked peaks, and
     below it had a beautiful parklike character of pretty, level
     prairies, interspersed among low spurs, wooded openly with
     pine and quaking aspens, contrasting well with the denser
     pines which swept around on the mountainous sides. Descending
     always the valley of the stream, towards noon we descried a
     mounted party descending the point of a spur, and judging them
     to be Arapahoes—who, defeated or victorious, were equally
     dangerous to us, and with whom a fight would be inevitable—we
     hurried to post ourselves as strongly as possible on some
     willow islands in the river. We had scarcely halted when they
     arrived, proving to be a party of Ute women, who told us that
     on the other side of the ridge their village was fighting with
     the Arapahoes. As soon as they had given us this information,
     they filled the air with cries and lamentations, which made
     us understand that some of their chiefs had been killed.

     Extending along the river directly ahead of us was a low piny
     ridge, leaving between it and the stream a small open bottom
     on which the Utes had very injudiciously placed their village,
     which, according to the women, numbered about three hundred
     warriors. Advancing in the cover of the pines, the Arapahoes,
     about daylight, charged into the village, driving off a great
     number of their horses, and killing four men, among them the
     principal chief of the village. They drove the horses perhaps
     a mile beyond the village to the end of a hollow where they
     had previously forted at the edge of the pines. Here the Utes
     had instantly attacked them in turn, and, according to the
     report of the women, were getting rather the best of the day.
     The women pressed us eagerly to join with their people, and
     would immediately have provided us with the best horses at the
     village, but it was not for us to interfere in such a conflict.
     Neither party were our friends or under our protection, and
     each was ready to prey upon us that could. But we could not
     help feeling an unusual excitement at being within a few hundred
     yards of a fight in which five hundred men were closely engaged,
     and hearing the sharp cracks of their rifles. We were in a
     bad position and subject to be attacked in it. Either party
     which we might meet, victorious or defeated, was certain to
     fall upon us, and gearing up immediately, we kept close along
     the pines of the ridge, having it between us and the village,
     and keeping the scouts on the summit to give us notice of the
     approach of the Indians. As we passed by the village which was
     immediately below us, horsemen were galloping to and fro, and
     groups of people were gathered around those who were wounded
     and dead and who were being brought in from the field.

     We continued to press on, and crossing another fork which came
     in from the right, after having made fifteen miles from the
     village, fortified ourselves strongly in the pines a short
     distance from the river.

     During the afternoon Pike's Peak had been plainly in view before
     us and from our encampment bore north 87° east by compass.
     This was a familiar object, and it had for us the face of an
     old friend. At its foot were the springs where we had spent
     a pleasant day in coming out.

In 1859, a battle between the Utes on the one side, and the Cheyennes,
Arapahoes, and Sioux on the other, was fought six miles north of Colorado
City, in the valley now occupied by the Modern Woodmen's Home. There
were several hundred warriors on each side and the battle was of unusual
duration, continuing for almost an entire day. The Utes were finally
victorious and drove their enemies back to the plains.

Until 1864, every spring after the white settlers came into this region,
war-parties of Cheyennes, Arapahoes, and Sioux would come trailing in
from the plains, pass through Colorado City, stopping long enough to
beg food from the families living near the line of their march and then
go on to the soda springs; here they would tarry long enough to make
an offering to the Great Spirit who was supposed to be manifest in the
bubbling waters, and then follow, in single file, up the Ute Pass trail
into the South Park, where they would scout around until they had found
a band of Utes. If they succeeded in surprising the latter, they would
probably come back with a lot of extra ponies and sometimes with captured
squaws and children, in which case they would exhibit a jubilant air;
but at other times on their return, they would present such a dejected
appearance that one could readily surmise that they had suffered defeat.
These annual visits were discontinued after the tribes became involved
in warfare with the whites.

Referring again to the mineral springs at Manitou, I quote from Col. R.
B. Marcy, of the United States Army, who, with his command, camped there
during the whole of the month of April, 1858. He tells not only of the
springs and the game of that neighborhood, but of a frightful snowstorm
that delayed them, near Eastonville in El Paso County, for several days
at the beginning of the following month. He says:

     Having accomplished the objects of my mission to New Mexico,
     by procuring animals and other supplies sufficient to enable
     the troops at Fort Bridger to make an early march into Salt
     Lake Valley, I, on the 15th day of March, left Fort Union on
     my return for Utah, intending to pass around the eastern base
     of the mountains near Pike's Peak and the headwaters of the
     Arkansas and Platte rivers, following the Cherokee trail from
     the Cache la Poudre. The command was well organized, and we made
     rapid progress for about two hundred and fifty miles, when,
     on the 27th of March, I received an order from the General
     in Command in New Mexico, to halt and await reinforcements.
     I was obliged to obey the order and went into camp upon the
     headwaters of a small tributary of the Arkansas, called Fontaine
     qui Bouille, directly at the foot of Pike's Peak and near a
     very peculiar spring which gives the name to the stream.

     This beautiful fountain issues from the center of a basin,
     or rather bowl, about six feet in diameter, and throws out a
     column of water near the size of a man's arm. The receptacle,
     which is constantly filled but never runs over, seems to have
     been formed by the deposit of salts from the water, and is
     as perfectly symmetrical and round as if it had been cut out
     with a chisel. As the fountain is constantly playing and never
     overflows, it of course has a subterranean outlet. The most
     remarkable feature, however, in the Fontaine qui Bouille, is
     the peculiar taste of the water. It is pungent and sparkling
     and somewhat similar in taste to the water from the Congress
     spring at Saratoga, but sweeter, and to my palate pleasanter.
     We drank it every day in large quantities without perceiving
     any ill effect from it, and the men made use of it instead of
     yeast in raising their bread, which induced the belief that
     it contained soda or some other alkali.

     The Indians believe it to possess some mysterious powers, the
     purport of which I could not learn, but there were a great
     many arrows, pieces of cloth, and other articles that they
     had deposited in the spring, probably as an offering to the
     Big Medicine Genius that presided over it. We remained at
     this place a month, during which time we amused ourselves in
     hunting elk, mountain sheep, and blacktail deer, all of which
     were very abundant in the surrounding country, and our larder
     was constantly supplied with the most delicious game.

  [Illustration: Ouray
   Chief of the Utes]

     I remember that one morning just at daybreak, I was awakened
     by my servant, who told me there was a large herd of elk in
     close proximity to the camp. I ran out as soon as possible and
     saw at least five hundred of these magnificent animals, drawn
     up in line like a troop of cavalry horses, with their heads
     all turned in the same direction, and from the crest of a high
     projecting cliff, looking in apparent wonder and bewilderment
     directly down upon us. It was to me a most novel and interesting
     spectacle. The noise made in the camp soon frightened them,
     however, and they started for the mountains. They were pursued
     for some distance by our hunters, who succeeded in killing
     six before they escaped.

     On the 30th day of April, our reinforcements having joined us,
     we gladly resumed our march for Utah, and at about one o'clock
     encamped upon the ridge that divides the Arkansas from the
     Platte rivers. The day was bright, cheerful, and pleasant, the
     atmosphere soft, balmy, and delightful. The fresh grass was
     about six inches high. The trees had put forth their new leaves
     and all nature conspired in giving evidence that the somber garb
     of winter had been cast aside for the more verdant and smiling
     attire of spring. Our large herds of animals were turned out
     to graze upon the tender and nutritious grass that everywhere
     abounded. Our men were enjoying their social jokes and pastimes
     after the fatigues of the day's march and everything indicated
     contentment and happiness. This pleasant state of things lasted
     until near sunset, when the wind suddenly changed into the
     north. It turned cold and soon commenced snowing violently,
     and continued to increase until it became a frightful winter
     tempest, filling the atmosphere with a dense cloud of driving
     snow, against which it was utterly impossible to ride or walk.
     Soon after the storm set in, one of our herds of three hundred
     horses and mules broke furiously away from the herdsmen who
     were guarding them, and in spite of their utmost efforts, ran
     at full speed directly with the wind for fifty miles before
     they stopped. Three of the herdsmen followed them as far as
     they were able, but soon became exhausted, bewildered, and lost
     on the prairie. One of them succeeded in finding his way back
     to camp in a state of great prostration and suffering. One of
     the others was found frozen to death in the snow, and the third
     was discovered crawling about upon his hands and knees in a
     state of temporary delirium, after the tempest subsided. This
     terrific storm exceeded in violence and duration anything of
     the kind our eldest mountaineer had ever beheld. It continued
     with uninterrupted fury for sixty consecutive hours and during
     this time it was impossible to move for any distance facing
     the wind and snow. One of our employes who went out about
     two hundred yards from the camp, set out to return, but was
     unable to do so and perished in the attempt. Several antelope
     were found frozen upon the prairie after the storm.... At the
     termination of this frightful tempest, there was about three
     feet of snow upon the ground, but the warm rays of the sun
     soon melted it, and after collecting together our stampeded
     animals, we again set forward for Utah and on the third day
     following, struck the South Platte at its confluence with
     Cherry Creek. There was at that time but one white man living
     within one hundred and fifty miles of the place, and he was
     an Indian trader named Jack Audeby, on the Arkansas.

A year later, after the Pike's Peak mining excitement had started, Marcy
issued a handbook for overland expeditions, in which he says, referring
to a point at the mouth of Monument Creek, which he calls the forks of
the Fontaine qui Bouille:

     The road to Cherry Creek here leaves the Fontaine qui Bouille
     and bears to the right. There is a large Indian trail which
     crosses the main creek and takes a northwesterly course towards
     Pike's Peak. By going up this trail about two miles, a mineral
     spring will be found which gives the stream its name of "The
     Fountain that Boils." This spring, or rather these springs, for
     there are two, both of which boil up out of the solid rock,
     are among the greatest natural curiosities that I have ever
     seen. The water is strongly impregnated with salts, but is
     delightful to the taste and somewhat similar to the Congress
     water. It will well compensate one for the trouble of visiting
     it.

Marcy claims that while waiting at the mouth of Cherry Creek for a
ferry-boat to be constructed to take them over the Platte River, which
was very high at the time, one of his employees washed a small amount of
gold dust from the sands of Cherry Creek. This employee was discharged
soon after and went direct to St. Louis, where he told of his discovery,
and Marcy claims that this was the beginning of the mining excitement
in the Pike's Peak region. This is different from other versions of the
event, the most probable of which is that the discovery of gold was first
made by the semi-civilized Cherokee Indians on their way to California.

What was known as the old Cherokee trail came up the Arkansas River to
a point about twelve miles below the mouth of the Fontaine qui Bouille.
From that place it ran in a northwesterly direction across the hills,
striking that creek about eight or ten miles above its mouth; thence up
the valley of the Fontaine to a point near the present town of Fountain;
turning northerly by the way of Jimmy's Camp to the head of Cherry
Creek, and down Cherry Creek to its mouth, where Denver now stands. From
this place, after running northerly along the base of the mountains
for a considerable distance, it struck across the mountains through
Bridger's Pass, and then turned westerly along the usual traveled road
to California. This trail was used by the first gold-seeking parties
which came to the present State of Colorado in 1858. The first of these
parties arrived at Cherry Creek only about two months after Marcy left.
The second party followed a week or two later, and the third party, of
which Anthony Bott, of Colorado City, was a member, was close behind it.
Members of this third party explored the region around where Colorado
City now stands, and later, with some others, returned and laid out the
town.

In 1859, occurred the memorable visit of Horace Greeley to the Pike's
Peak region. He arrived in Denver, June 16th, having come by the Smoky
Hill route. Writing from Denver, he says, among other things:

     I have been passing, meeting, observing, and trying to converse
     with Indians, almost ever since I crossed the Missouri River.
     Eastern Kansas is checkered with their reservations,—Delaware,
     Kaw, Ottawa, Osage, Kickapoo, Potawatamie, while the buffalo
     range and all this side belong to, and are parceled among
     the Cheyennes, the Arapahoes, and the Apaches, or perhaps
     among the two former only, as Indian boundaries are not well
     defined. At all events, we have met or passed bands of these
     three tribes, with occasional visitors from the Sioux on the
     north, and the Comanches on the south, all these tribes having
     for the present a good understanding. The Utes who inhabit the
     mountains are stronger and braver than any one of the three
     tribes first named, though hardly a match for them all, are at
     war with them. The Arapahoe Chief, Left Hand, assures me that
     his people were always at war with the Utes; at least he has no
     recollection, no tradition, of a time when they were at peace.
     Some two or three hundred lodges of Arapahoes are encamped in
     and about this log city, calculating that the presence of the
     whites will afford some protection to their wives and children
     against a Ute onslaught, while the braves are off on any of
     their fighting—that is stealing—expeditions. An equal or
     larger body of Utes are camped in the mountains some forty or
     fifty miles west, and the Arapahoe warriors recently returned in
     triumph from a war party on which they managed to steal about
     one hundred horses from the Utes, but were obliged to kill
     most of them in their rapid flight so that they only brought
     home forty more than they took away. They are going out again
     in a day or two, and have been for some days practicing secret
     incantations and public observances with reference thereto.
     Last midnight they were to have had a great war dance and to
     have left on the warpath to-day, but their men sent out after
     their horses reported that they saw three Utes on the plain,
     which was regarded as premonitory of an attack, and the braves
     stood to their arms all night and were very anxious for white
     aid in case of the Ute foray on their lodges here in Denver.
     Such an attack seems very improbable and I presume the three
     Utes who caused all this uproar were simply scouts or spies
     on the watch for just such marauding surprise parties as our
     Arapahoe neighbors are constantly meditating. I do not see
     why they need to take even this trouble. There are points on
     the mountain range west of this city, where a watchman with
     sharp eyes and a good glass could command the entire plain
     for fifty miles north, south, and east of him, and might
     hence give intelligence of any Arapahoe raid at least a day
     before a brave entered the mountains; for though it is true
     that Indians on the warpath travel or ride mainly by night, I
     find that the Arapahoes do this only after they have entered
     on what they consider disputed or dangerous ground; that they
     start from their lodges in open day and only advance under
     cover of darkness after they are within the shadows of the
     mountains. Hence the Utes, who are confessedly the stronger,
     might ambush and destroy any Arapahoe force that should venture
     into their Rocky Mountain recesses, by the help of a good
     spy-glass and a little "white forecast"; but the Indians are
     children. Their arts, wars, treaties, alliances, habitations,
     crafts, properties, commerce, comforts, all belong to the
     very lowest and rudest ages of human existence. Any band of
     schoolboys from ten to fifteen years of age are quite as capable
     of ruling their appetites, devising and upholding a public
     policy, constituting and conducting a state or community, as
     the average Indian tribe.

     I have learned to appreciate better than hitherto, and to make
     more allowance for the dislike, aversion, and contempt wherewith
     Indians are usually regarded by their white neighbors, and
     have been since the days of the Puritans. It needs but little
     familiarity with the actual, palpable aborigines, to convince
     anyone that the poetical Indian—the Indian of Cooper and
     Longfellow—is only visible to the poet's eye.

The Utes seldom visited Colorado City and the region round about in the
early days, except in the winter, which was the only time they could
do so with a fair degree of safety. A majority of the tribe had been on
friendly terms with the English-speaking people from the time of their
earliest contact with that race. It is true that straggling bands of
Utes occasionally committed acts of depredation, and such bands on one
or two occasions killed white people, but these acts were not approved
by the majority of the tribe.

One of these exceptions occurred on Christmas day, 1854, at Fort Napesta,
on the present site of the city of Pueblo. It is said that the men
who occupied the fort were celebrating the day with the liquid that
both cheers and inebriates, and in the midst of their jollity, a band
of wandering Utes came by and was invited to join in the revelry. The
Indians, nothing loath, partook of the white man's Taos lightning, the
product of a distillery at Taos, New Mexico, and the natural consequence
was an attack upon the whites which resulted in all the latter being
killed.

In 1866, a small band of Utes began a raid upon the settlers on Huerfano
Creek, but when the news reached Ouray, the head chief of the tribe, he
sent runners out at once to warn the settlers and then went to the scene
of action with a band of his faithful warriors. He soon afterwards took
the hostile Indians prisoners and compelled them to go to Fort Garland
and remain there, in this manner quickly ending the trouble. Ouray was
always the friend of the whites, and is entitled to the very greatest
credit for the able manner in which he held the Utes under control up
to the time of his death, in 1881.

Ouray was born at Taos, New Mexico, in 1833. His father was a Tabeguache
Ute and his mother a Jicarilla Apache. His boyhood was passed among
the better class of Mexicans, chiefly as a herder of sheep. He learned
Spanish and always preferred it to his native tongue. When eighteen years
of age, he joined the band of Utes of which his father was leader, then
located in southwestern Colorado. From that time until about 1860, he
led the life of a wild Indian, passing his time hunting in the mountains
and on the plains, varied by an occasional battle with the hereditary
enemies of his people, the Kiowas, Sioux, Cheyennes, and Arapahoes of
the plains, in which he acquired the reputation of a courageous and
skillful warrior. In 1859, he chose a wife, named Chipeta, from among
the Tabaguache maidens, to whom he was always devotedly attached, and
who bore him a son. This child was captured by the Cheyennes in 1863,
they having surprised a hunting camp of Utes under Ouray's command, near
the present site of Fort Lupton on the Platte River. The boy was never
recovered and, indeed, was never heard of afterwards.

In person Ouray was of the almost invariably short stature which
distinguishes his people from those of the plains tribes. He stood about
five feet seven inches high and in his later years became quite portly.
His head was strikingly large and well-shaped, his features were regular,
bearing an expression of dignity in repose, but lighting up pleasantly in
conversation. In his ordinary bearing his manner was courtly and gentle,
and he was extremely fond of meeting and conversing with cultivated white
men, with whom he was a genial companion, compelling their respect and
favor by the broad enlightenment of his views. In his habits he was a
model, never using tobacco, abhorring whiskey, and taking only a sip of
wine when in company with those who were indulging, and then merely as
a matter of courtesy to them. He never swore nor used obscene language,
was a firm believer in the Christian religion, and about two years before
his death united himself with the Methodist Church.

When in active command of his men, his word was law, and disobedience
meant death. In the summer of 1874 at Bijou, while returning from Denver
to their camp in the south, one of his men decided to build a fire and
started to cut some wood for that purpose within the enclosure of a white
settler. Ouray, discovering his intention, ordered him back, reminding
him that they must not trespass upon the property of the white man. The
obstinate Ute replied that he must have firewood and that he would cut
it anyway. Ouray answered that if he did, he would kill him, whereat the
other observed that two could play at that game. Instantly both started
for their guns, reaching them at about the same time, but Ouray was
quicker than his adversary and shot him. On another occasion he shot and
broke the arm of Johnson, a member of his tribe, who afterwards caused
much of the trouble at the White River Agency. Johnson was given to
gambling, horse-racing, lying, and trickery of all kinds. In the present
case, he had stolen some horses from white men, and refused to return
them when commanded to do so, thereby, in Ouray's opinion, bringing
disgrace upon the Ute nation, for which he had to be punished.

In the foregoing, I have quoted freely from General Frank Hall's History
of Colorado. General Hall had unusual opportunities for knowing Ouray
and of his dealings with the whites.

It was through the prompt and decisive action of Ouray that the leaders
of the massacre of Meeker and others at the White River Agency, in 1879,
were surrendered to the authorities for punishment. The early settlers
of Colorado owe to Ouray a debt of gratitude, and a monument to his
memory should at some time be erected by the people of this State. Ouray
frequently came to Colorado City in the early days, and sometimes his
visits were of considerable duration.

In the winter of 1865-1866, a large body of Ute Indians camped for
several months on the south side of the Fountain, opposite Colorado
City. On departing in the spring, they abandoned a squaw who had broken
a leg, leaving her in a rudely constructed tent, or tepee. Had not
the women of Colorado City taken her in charge she would have starved.
After the Indians left, she was moved into a log cabin in Colorado City
and provided with all she needed until her death, which occurred a few
months later. The Utes seemed to think nothing of this heartless act,
and even the abandoned squaw did not seem to resent it. It was a very
common occurrence for the Indians of most of the tribes to abandon the
aged and disabled, as in moving around, they did not wish to be burdened
with those who were incapable of taking care of themselves.

In the winter of 1866-1867, a thousand or more Utes camped for several
months below Manitou, between the Balanced Rock and the Fountain. Game was
very scarce in this region during that winter and the Indians suffered
for want of food. Finally, they reached such a strait that their chiefs
made a demand upon the citizens of Colorado City for twenty sacks of
flour, and intimated that unless it was produced forthwith, they would
be compelled to march into town and take it by force. The citizens,
realizing their utter helplessness in the matter, obtained the flour
without delay and turned it over to the Indians. This was the only time
in all the early period that Colorado City suffered from the presence
of the Utes.

Chaveno and Colorow were the principal chiefs of this band. Chaveno was
an Indian of a good deal of intelligence. When visiting the whites he
always went about dressed in an army officer's uniform of dark blue which
had been given him by an officer at Fort Garland. Chaveno was always
strutting around, and seemed very proud of himself in his uniform, of
which he took the greatest possible care. In the matter of dress, Colorow
was the reverse. He seemed to have no liking whatever for the white man's
costume. His physique was like that of Ouray, short, but of powerful
build. He had been a noted warrior in his early days and delighted in
telling of his exploits in the various battles with the Cheyennes and
Arapahoes in which he had taken part. Colorow was treacherous by nature
and his friendship for the whites was not always to be depended upon.

In the winter of 1874-1875, Ouray, with a band of six hundred Utes,
camped at Florissant for several months. One day a Mr. Marksberry, living
on Tarryall Creek, rode up to the Post Office at Florissant, tied his
horse, and went into the building. The pony attracted the attention of
an Indian named Antelope, who claimed the animal as his own; he slipped
off the saddle and bridle, and, jumping on the pony's back, rode away.
Marksberry and a friend, being determined to recover the pony, followed
the band to their camp in Beaver Park, south of Pike's Peak. Marksberry
found his pony with the Indian herd, caught it, and was turning away,
when Antelope, hidden behind a tree, shot and instantly killed him. Chief
Ouray, always ready to "travel the white man's road," gave up Antelope
to justice. Upon trial of the case in the courts of Arapahoe County,
some months later, he was acquitted.

The Utes, by treaties made in March, 1868, April, 1874, and March, 1880,
ceded to the general government all the lands claimed by them within the
boundaries of the present State of Colorado, except a small reservation
retained for their own use in the southwestern part of the State.

THE INDIAN TROUBLES OF 1864

As I have before mentioned, war parties of Cheyennes and Arapahoes
continued to make occasional trips through the Ute Pass to the mountains
in search of their enemies, the Utes, until 1864. As these war parties
seldom tarried long in this vicinity, their presence was not seriously
objected to during the first two or three years, but after rumors of
impending trouble with them became current, their visits were looked upon
with a good deal of apprehension. From the year 1859 to the beginning of
1863, the wagon trains that brought supplies from the Missouri River to
Colorado came and went without molestation, but it was noticed, from the
latter part of 1862 on, that the Indians of the plains were anxious to
secure guns and ammunition, and were acquiring more than was necessary
for their ordinary hunting. Early in 1863, they began to attack and
rob wagon trains, steal horses, and threaten exposed settlements, but
nothing occurred to cause any great alarm in the immediate Pike's Peak
region, until the spring of 1864. During a very considerable portion of
the next four years, however, the people of El Paso County experienced
all the horrors of Indian warfare.

My story of the Indian troubles of that period will necessarily be much
in the nature of a personal narrative. At the time hostilities began, I
was little more than eighteen years old, and as fond of excitement and
adventure as boys at that age usually are. I had a part in many of the
occurrences which I shall mention, and was personally familiar with the
details of most of the others.

About the 20th of June, 1864, word reached Colorado City that a day or
two previously, the Hungate family, living on Running Creek about forty
miles northeast of Colorado City, had been murdered by the Indians.
The father and mother had been shot down and mutilated with horrible
brutality, and the children who had tried to escape had been pursued
and killed, so that not one of the family was left alive. This news made
the people of Colorado City, and the settlers along the Fountain and on
the Divide, very uneasy, and of course, after that, they were constantly
on the lookout, not knowing where the savages might next appear. Two or
three weeks after the murder of the Hungate family, some cattle herders
came into Colorado City late one evening and told of having seen near
Austin's Bluff, a half a dozen mounted Indians who seemed to be acting
mysteriously. Following the killing of the Hungate family, and other acts
of hostility at various places on the plains, this was indeed alarming
news. Consequently, early the following morning an armed party went to the
place where the Indians had been seen, found their trail, and followed
it. In this way it was discovered that, some time during the previous
night, the Indians had been on the hill that overlooks Colorado City on
the north, and that the trail from that point led into the mountains.
The direction from which these Indians came, their mysterious movements
after they were discovered, taken in connection with the recent acts
of hostility, and the knowledge that the tribes of the plains had been
attempting during the previous winter to make a coalition for the purpose
of annihilating the settlements along the eastern base of the mountains,
seemed convincing proof that this band was here for no good purpose.

At that time I was living with my father on the west side of Camp Creek,
about half-way between Colorado City and the Garden of the Gods. I
had been in town during the forenoon and had heard the alarming news,
and as a result, after that father and I kept a sharp lookout for the
savages. However, the day passed without anything further having been
seen or heard of them. Shortly after sundown, my brothers Edgar and
Frank, who were small boys, brought our cattle in from the neighborhood
of the Garden of the Gods, and while I was helping to drive them into
the corral adjacent to our house, I happened to look up the valley of
Camp Creek, and there, about three-quarters of a mile away, I saw six
mounted Indians leading an extra horse. They were going easterly along
the old Indian trail, which I have heretofore described, that ran just
south of the Garden of the Gods. As soon as I saw these Indians, I was
sure that they were the party which had been trailed into Colorado City
the night before. Without delay I strapped on a revolver, took my gun,
and rode to Colorado City as fast as my pony could travel, to report
what I had seen. The people had been greatly agitated during the day
and, consequently, the news I brought caused much excitement.

It was at once decided that the Indians must be followed, and if possible
the purpose of their visit ascertained. In less than three-quarters of an
hour, ten mounted and well-armed men were ready for the pursuit. Those
forming the party were Anthony Bott, Dr. Eggleston, William J. Baird,
A. T. Cone, Ren Smith, myself, and four others whose names I cannot
now recall. By a quarter of eight we were traveling along the trail
taken by the Indians across the Mesa east of the Garden of the Gods.
We appreciated the necessity of making as little noise as possible, and
all talking was carried on in an undertone. The trail led from the Mesa
down to Monument Creek, about a mile above the present site of Colorado
Springs, and then crossed the stream over a bed of gravel that extended
to the bluff on the eastern side. Thick clumps of willows enclosed the
trail on both sides. It was a starlight night without clouds, but not
light enough for us to see an object any distance away.

We suspected nothing, as we believed the Indians to be far ahead of us.
But just as we came up on the first rise out of the willows on the east
side of the creek we were startled to see them huddled together on the
left of us, under the bank, apparently getting ready to start a small
camp-fire, while to the right were their ponies, which had been turned
out to graze. The Indians were just as much surprised as we were, and
for an instant the situation was extremely tense. As we refrained from
firing, the Indians, knowing that they were at a disadvantage in not
being able to reach their ponies, evidently with the hope of making
us believe that they were friendly, began calling out "How! How!" as
Indians usually do on meeting the whites. We then questioned them,
hoping to ascertain the object of their presence in this locality. Some
of our people had a slight knowledge of Spanish, with which the Indians
seemed somewhat conversant, and in this way and by signs, we told them
that we were there only for the purpose of ascertaining their object in
visiting this region, and not to do them harm; that if they could show
that they were here for no hostile purpose, we would permit them to go
on their way unmolested, but in order to establish this fact it would
be necessary for them to go with us to Colorado City, where competent
interpreters could be found, and meanwhile we should require them to
give up their arms. They apparently assented to this proposition, and
at once surrendered such of their arms as were in sight. Six of us then
dismounted, and each took an Indian in charge while he was securing his
pony. The Indian I had in charge was a tall, slim fellow, fully six feet
in height and probably not much over twenty years of age. He appeared to
take the situation quietly and I had no reason to apprehend any trouble
with him. I allowed him to lead his pony to the camp, where he put on
the saddle and bridle and mounted the animal, as all were permitted to
do. We then formed the Indians in ranks of twos, placing a file of our
men on each side of them, each white man having charge of the Indian
next to him, which left two extra whites for the front and two to guard
the rear. I was in charge of the Indian on the left side of the rear
rank and had hold of his bridle with my right hand. The order was given
to march and we started east towards the plateau on which Colorado
Springs is now built. We had proceeded only eight or ten feet when the
Indians suddenly halted. From the time they mounted they had been talking
animatedly with one another in their own language. Just then someone
happened to see that one of the Indians had a knife in his hand. This
was taken from him and then we made a systematic search of the others
and found that most of them had knives, and one a spear concealed under
his blanket. It was with great difficulty that we twisted these weapons
from their hands, but finally, as we thought, secured everything of that
nature. The order was again given to march. Immediately following this,
the Indians gave a tremendous war-whoop, shook their blankets, and were
out from between us before we realized what was happening. The bridle
rein in my hand was jerked away before I knew it. We were all so dazed
that the Indians probably were seventy-five to one hundred feet away
before our people began shooting. Meantime, my pony, which was of Indian
breed, had become almost unmanageable. He seemed to be determined to go
off with the other Indian ponies and I had the greatest difficulty in
restraining him. Before I succeeded, I was so far in front that I was in
great danger of being shot by our own people. By the time I could get my
pony under control, the Indians were too far away for me to shoot with
hope of doing any execution, but during this time the others had been
making such good use of their weapons that in a few minutes the affair
was over, and five of the Indians had fallen from their ponies. Whether
they had been killed or wounded we did not know until some years later.
We only knew that their ponies were running riderless over the plains. It
was now about ten o'clock, and quite dark; consequently we made little
effort to locate the dead and wounded. We rounded up the ponies, there
being six of them, one a pack animal, and after gathering up such of
the belongings of the Indians as they had dropped in their flight, we
started on our return to Colorado City.

The whole occurrence made one of the weirdest scenes that it has ever
been my fortune to witness. First the sudden discovery of the Indians
in the darkness of the night; the group formed of the Indians with the
whites surrounding them; the mounting of the ponies; the shrill war-whoop
of six savages ringing out in the solitude, followed by the shots, and
then the riderless horses running hither and thither over the plain.
The dramatic scene was completed a few minutes later by the rounding
up of these riderless ponies and the beginning of the march back to
Colorado City over the present town site of Colorado Springs, the only
inhabitants of which at that time were the antelope and the coyotes.
Our road led us over the present College reservation, down what is now
Cascade Avenue to a ford crossing the Monument Creek, just west of the
present Rio Grande freight station.

On the way home, the thought came to us whether we could have done
differently under the circumstances. We knew the tribes to which these
Indians belonged were at war with the whites, and that, unless they were
on their way to fight the Utes, they were here on no peaceable errand
so far as our people were concerned. Their course in going only to the
foot of the mountains, showed that they were not seeking the Utes, and
their actions under cover of the previous night, and afterward, up to
the time they were captured, proved conclusively that they were here as
scouts of a larger party, to ascertain and to report the strength of the
town and its surrounding settlements. When first discovered, they were
in an out-of-the-way spot, and from that time on until their capture,
they traveled over abandoned roads and trails, probably hoping in this
way to fulfill their mission without detection. These things convinced
us that we had accomplished an important work, and the only regret we
had was that we had not been able to bring the captives into town.

Early the following morning several of our party returned to the scene
of the occurrence of the night before, hoping to find the bodies of the
Indians who unquestionably had been killed in the mêlée, but there was
nothing to indicate the struggle excepting a few articles of clothing
and personal adornment, and marks upon the ground showing where the dead
and wounded had evidently lain. Several years afterward, we learned
from the Cheyennes that three of this scouting party had been killed
outright, one was so seriously wounded that he died shortly afterward,
another was slightly wounded, and one had escaped unhurt. The last, with
the aid of the one slightly wounded, had carried off and buried the dead
during the night.

News of our evening's experience spread rapidly and created intense
excitement in Colorado City and throughout the county. The people of El
Paso County now realized that they were face to face with Indian troubles
of the most serious nature, and that arrangements for the defense of
the town and surrounding country must immediately be made. The fighting
strength of the Pike's Peak region was exceedingly limited, as compared
with the great horde of savages that occupied our eastern frontier.
Probably there were not over three hundred men of all ages in El Paso
County at that time. And, as further showing the precarious position of
the community, I wish to call attention to the fact that the frontier
settlements of the United States at that time extended but little west
of the Missouri River, leaving the narrow belt of settlements along the
eastern base of the mountains in Colorado separated from the nearest
communities to the east by a stretch of plains at least four hundred miles
in width, inhabited only by wild and savage tribes of nomadic Indians.
The same condition existed on the north to the British possessions,
and to the west the Ute Indians held undisputed sway to the Great Salt
Lake valley. To the south, with the exception of a small part of New
Mexico sparsely settled by feeble and widely scattered communities of
Spanish-speaking people, wild tribes roamed over every portion of the
country for hundreds of miles. From the foregoing, it will be seen that
the settlements of Colorado were but a small island of civilization in a
sea of savagery. Our settlements were at times completely cut off from
civilization in every direction by this cordon of savage tribes; their
very existence was now threatened, with no hope of assistance from the
National Government, because of the civil war which was then at its most
critical stage, demanding every resource of the nation. Threatened as
they were by hordes of hostile savages and under conditions that would
have had a disheartening effect upon a people not inured to frontier
life, our settlers had no thought of allowing themselves to be driven
out or overwhelmed.

Warning was at once sent to every family living down the Fountain and
on the Divide, the result being that within a day or two almost every
ranch in the county was abandoned. The people for fifteen miles down
the valley below Colorado City came to that town. Those living below
gathered at the extreme lower edge of the county and there built a place
of defense. In Colorado City the work of constructing a fort around
an old log hotel was started at once. Green pine logs, ten to fifteen
inches in diameter and about fifteen feet long, were cut on the adjacent
mountains, brought in, and set in the ground close together, entirely
surrounding the building, making a defensive structure about twelve
feet high. At intervals through these logs portholes were made for use
in repelling an attack. During the next month or two all the women and
children of the town as well as those who had congregated there from
the country slept at night in this fortification. Throughout this time a
picket force of three or four mounted men was maintained night and day
on the flat east of the town, and out on the present site of Colorado
Springs. There was scarcely a day during this period in which Indians
were not seen at various points in the country to the east of Colorado
City, and on the borders of the settlements along the Fountain, but as
the people everywhere were watchful, the savages had little opportunity
of catching any one unawares.

About two weeks after the occurrence on Monument Creek, a messenger
arrived at Colorado City, sent by Governor Evans to warn the people of an
impending attack upon the settlements of the Territory by the Cheyennes,
Arapahoes, and other hostile Indians. It appears that the Governor had
received information from Elbridge Gerry, one of his secret agents, that
eight hundred warriors belonging to the Cheyenne, Arapahoe, and other
hostile Indian tribes, were in camp at the Point of Rocks near the head
of Beaver Creek in eastern Colorado, and had planned a simultaneous
attack upon the frontier settlements of Colorado extending from a point
in the valley of the Platte River one hundred miles below Denver, to
the Arkansas River at the mouth of the Fontaine qui Bouille. According
to the program agreed upon by the Indians, one hundred warriors were to
go to the valley of the Platte, two hundred and fifty to the head of
Cherry Creek, and the remainder of the eight hundred to the valley of
the Fountain and Arkansas rivers. On reaching the appointed localities,
these parties were to be divided into small bands, each one of which
was to attack a farmhouse, kill the occupants, loot the property, and
run off the stock.

Elbridge Gerry, from whom the information of the proposed raid was
received, was the grandson of a signer of the Declaration of Independence,
and although an educated man, had lived with the Indians for a good many
years and had married a Cheyenne woman. At this time, he was living with