Star.

by Forrestine C. Hooker.

FOREWORD

The recording of historic facts and events in the romance of a story must be interesting and instructive to the readers; especially when the scenes occurred in a vast country, formerly occupied by an ancient and departed race and later by one now rapidly disappearing.

In vain might we search history for the record of a people who contended as valiantly against a superior race, overwhelming numbers, and who defended their country until finally driven toward the setting sun, a practically subjugated nation and race. The art of war among the white people is called strategy, or tactics; when practised by the Indians it is called treachery.

Their wealth consisted of their herds of horses--which the Western Indians obtained from the Mexicans after the Spanish had invaded Mexico--their lodges and the few appliances for camp-life. They worshipped the G.o.d of nature, and the Great Spirit was their omnipotent Jehovah. They believed that death was a long journey to the Happy Hunting Grounds. They were grateful for the abundance of the earth--the sunshine, air, water, and all the blessings of nature--and believed that all should share them alike. For one to wish to monopolize any part of the earth was to them the manifestation of a grasping disposition. Often the men of the most influence and greatest popularity in the tribe were the poorest, or those who gave most to others.

They believed that the Great Spirit had given them this beautiful country with its natural resources, advantages, and blessings for their home.

One great cause of disaffection among the Indians was the destruction of their vast herds of buffalo, which seemed like ruthless sacrifice.

Within a few years millions of buffalo were killed for their hides, and thousands of white men, the best rifle-shots in the world, were engaged in the business.

Among their own tribe and people they had a code of honour which all respected. An Indian could leave his horse, blanket, saddle, or rifle at any place by day or night and it would not be disturbed, though the whole tribe might pa.s.s near. This could not be done in any community of white people.

These conditions existed in 1874, when the Southwest Indians a.s.sembled at Medicine Lodge and decided to drive out the buffalo hunters.

In August, 1874, I was directed to organize a command at Fort Dodge, on the Arkansas River in southwestern Kansas, and move south against the hostile Indians. Other commands were ordered to move: one east from New Mexico, under Major Price; one north from Texas, under General Mackenzie; one west from Indian Territory, under Colonel Davidson, Tenth Cavalry.

My command consisted of two battalions of eight troops of cavalry, commanded by Majors Compton and Biddle; one battalion of four companies of infantry, commanded by Major Bristol; a company of friendly Indians, a detachment of artillery, and a company of civilian scouts and guides.

These latter were mostly hunters and expert riflemen, familiar with the country.

In one of the many engagements with the hostile Indians Captain Frank D.

Baldwin (now Major General) a very gallant officer, recaptured two little captive white girls, Julia and Adelaide Germaine, seven and nine years old, whose father, mother, brother, and older sister had been ma.s.sacred. From the children we learned of their two sisters, still in the hands of the savages, and we made it a condition that they should be brought in safely and surrendered with the whole tribe, which was done immediately on receipt of my demand. The other two girls had been brought by order of Chief Stone Calf to a tent next his own, where they were treated with marked care and consideration until formally surrendered to us.

That campaign, lasting for many months, closed after most difficult and laborious efforts on the part of the troops, with the satisfactory result that the vast southwestern country has been free from the terrifying and devastating presence of hostile Indians, and the citizens of the States of Kansas, Colorado, Oklahoma, Texas, and New Mexico have enjoyed an era of peace. Scarcely a hostile shot has been heard in that country since that year.

In a report to Lieutenant-General P. H. Sheridan, Commanding General of the U. S. Army, November 23, 1874, which was published in report of Secretary of War, Vol. I, 1875, I said:

"It would have been better for the Indians had they been considered a part of the population of the United States and dealt with generously; and when forced on reservations--which is always the case--let reservations be reasonable in size, subject to special rule and government until the Indians are fitted to obey the ordinary laws of the country which have been made to control educated and intelligent white people.

"If the Indians had always been humanely and honestly dealt with, there would have been but few of the troubles which have occurred in the many years gone by."

[Ill.u.s.tration: Signature: Nelson A. Miles, Lieut.-General US Army]

July 21, 1922 Washington, D. C.

STAR:

_The Story of an Indian Pony_

Chapter I

The first streak of dawn was turning the sky from gray to pale pink as Star lifted his head and looked sleepily at the twelve hundred Comanche ponies stretched on the ground around him.

Farther away were many tepees made from buffalo skins, but only the wolf-dogs, curled in holes they had dug near the tepees, showed that the camp was not deserted. Star knew that the Comanche braves, squaws, and papooses would soon awaken and come out wrapped in blankets which had been woven by the squaws and dyed in bright colours made from roots and berries.

One tepee, larger than the others, belonged to Quannah, Chief of the Quahada Comanches, and Star looked at it as he recalled the story his mother, Running Deer, had told him many times while they grazed side by side or rested on the banks of the creek near the camp. Star loved Quannah, but more than all else he loved Quannah's little daughter, Songbird, for she was Star's mistress. He remembered the day when he had been too tiny and weak to stand up, and Quannah, with Songbird, had stooped to pat Running Deer's colt.

"We will name him Star," the chief had spoken. "He belongs to you, as his mother belongs to me, and as his mother's mother belonged to my father. Swift, sure, and strong, they have been worthy to carry the Chiefs of the Quahadas."

So the colt understood the honour given his mother and the honour that was to be his when he was big enough to be ridden. And the tale his mother told many times never wearied him.

"My mother told me the tale," she would always begin, "and now that she is dead I tell it to you. When I am dead, you shall tell it to other ponies, so that it may be remembered as long as Comanche herds wander over the plains.

"The squaws tell their papooses the great deeds of their forefathers, that none will forget, that the young boys may become great warriors, while the girls grow to be worthy squaws and train their own sons to live with honour. So I, too, tell the story of our part in the life of our great Chief and his Pale-face Mother, as my mother told it to me, long ago, before you were born.

"When she was a very young mare, the swiftest racer of all the Comanche ponies, our tribe wandered long distances over plains covered with gra.s.s knee-high. Vast herds of buffaloes and thousands of beautiful antelopes shared the prairie lands with us. When the tepees were set up there were so many that they reached out like stars covering the sky at night. Our pony herd was so large that each brave owned many ponies, and he who owned the most ponies was the richest man of all.

"The Comanches could not live without us. It needs a swift, sure-footed pony to follow the antelope near enough to send an arrow to its heart as it runs. You know, as well as I, that antelope meat must be brought to the camp to feed the women and children. Because the Comanches are such great hunters, other tribes call them the 'Antelope Eaters.' And from the hundreds of buffaloes ranging on the plains, our warriors obtain hides for clothing, for warm robes and to make tepees that will defy the cold winds and snows that rush upon them from the place where the Great White Spirit of Winter dwells.

"Without good ponies the Comanches would be cold and hungry, as you must see. And so we are honoured by the warriors and loved by the women and children for whom we provide food and shelter. When the enemies of the tribe come against us in battle, the ponies share the dangers with their owners. None of us has ever been vanquished. Ponies have died beside their masters, but have never deserted them. When a warrior dies, his favourite pony dies with him, that the warrior may ride it in the Happy Hunting Grounds to which he and it have journeyed through the Land of Shadows. There they are happy together. That is a great honour, but the greatest honour of all is to be the favourite pony of the Chief."

"Like you!" interrupted Star with a proud toss of his head as he glanced at other colts whose mothers belonged to men who were not chiefs.

"Like me and like my mother," Running Deer never failed to answer. "Lie down beside me while I tell you the tale again, so that you will make no mistake in telling it to other ponies when you are old and others have forgotten it all."

Star settled himself comfortably at her side, and as she talked, he nipped daintily at bits of tender gra.s.s which made a soft bed beneath over-hanging branches of a tall tree.

Chapter II

"Long before I was born," began Running Deer, "the warriors of our tribe wove bits of red cloth into the manes and tails of their ponies. Each warrior, decked in brightest blankets and with war-bonnets of eagle feathers that bound their heads, fell over their shoulders, then trailed almost to the ground, rode rapidly across the prairie with their quivers full of sharply pointed arrows.

"White-faced men had come on the land of the Comanches and were taking possession of our hunting grounds. So word was brought to camp for our fighting men to go out and protect the game that belonged to the Indians. The Great Spirit put the game on the prairies that the Comanches and other Indians might use it for food.

"Like leaves swept by fierce winds the warriors rushed onward. Peta Nocona, the old chief's young son, rode my mother at the head of the Quahadas. He was almost a child in years, but a man in daring, and often the chief gave him the honour of leading the warriors. All at once in the distance a few specks caught his keen eyes, and he drew my mother's reins, while all the Comanches halted to talk. Then each warrior leaned down against the shoulder of his pony, and they raced until they had formed a large circle around the moving spots. Gradually closing about them, Peta Nocona led his men.

"My mother said that those in the centre greeted them. It was Pa-ha-u-ka's band, and with them were a boy and a girl with white skins, who looked at the Comanches in fear. The girl's hair was long and gold like the arrows of the sun, her eyes were like the summer sky, her skin like untrodden snow.

"The son of our chief rode to her side, and when she shrank back in fear, he smiled and told her that no harm should come to her. She did not understand his words, for she spoke in a strange tongue, but she did understand his kindly eyes and voice and smile. So she made no struggle when he lifted her from the arms of the warrior who was holding her.

Placing her before him on my mother's back, he held her carefully until they reached our camp."

"Did the white boy come, too?" asked Star as Running Deer paused to take a bite of gra.s.s.