3 The Council
We camped under the walls of Fort Leavenworth, and the next day Col. Griscom who commanded the troops there, came down to see us. He called at once for Capt Simpson, our leader, and the two sat down by a wagon and talked earnestly for a very long time. Then the Colonel went away and I noticed that Simpson’s face was very grave. I ventured to approach him, and asked what was the matter.
“Nothing,” he said, and he answered me rather curtly, I thought. Henry, with his usual inquisitiveness, had gone into the fort with Starboard Sam to examine the quarters of the soldiers and their mode of living. When they returned a few hours later I saw at once that they had news.
“What is it?” I asked, as soon as they came up.
“Haven’t you heard!” exclaimed Henry, excitedly. “They told us all about it in the fort. The scalping parties are out. The Indians are on the warpath. Every man, woman and child in an emigrant party has been killed and scalped not four days’ journey west of here. Col. Griscom says we must not think of proceeding further at present The moment we pass out of sight of the fort our lives will be in danger, he says.”
Starboard Sam nodded his head emphatically in corroboration of what Henry had said.
“If we can’t go on, then what are we to do?” I asked.
Neither Henry nor Starboard Sam could reply, and we three stared blankly at each other. I felt my gorge rising, for unfortunately I am of a stubborn temper, as my uncle often told me, and was indisposed to stop long under the walls of the fort after having come so far.
“But what does Capt. Simpson say?” I asked at length.
“Nuthin’ as yet,” replied Starboard Sam, “but I suppose we’ll call a council of war about it”
Sam was right, for that evening all of us were asked to meet in the circle of the wagons. Sam, Henry and I were there very early. A big fire had been built, and its flames flared back and forth in the wind. We squatted in Turkish fashion around this fire, and I do not remember anything that has made a greater impress on my memory than that hasty council by the firelight on the open prairie. The men were nearest the fire. In the background were the women, their anxious faces showing through the shadows. Henry, the old sailor and I took our seats in the circle of the men. Just across the fire from us stood our leader, Simpson. With him were Col. Griscom and a third man, who at once attracted my attention. The stranger was an Indian, of the Pawnee tribe, I learned soon afterwards. I had seen Indians before, but the lithe, erect and powerful figure of this man, and his strangely impassive face, held my gaze. He stood so erect that I could understand readily why the expression, “As straight as an Indian,” had come into such general use. He was wrapped in a bright-colored blanket of the kind that the Indians of the far Southwest make so well, and he held his rifle in his hand. There were no preliminaries to this council. Capt. Simpson came forward and said:
“Men, we started together to California. We have come nearly half-way across the Continent together, and when we reached the fort here we hadn’t had any ill-luck. But I’m afraid there’s bad news for you now. Col. Griscom will explain it to you.”
He stepped back then, and Col. Griscom began:
“Our scouts,” said he “bring in information that the Pawnees, the Sioux, the Arrapahoes, the Cheyennes, and in fact about all the tribes of the plains are on the warpath against us. It is impossible for us to prevent all their depredations. We have had sad proof of that. One emigrant train was exterminated a few days ago. Several hunting parties have been destroyed, and there is no safety for white people further than the guns of this fort will reach. I have no power to keep your party here, but I warn you that you go further on at the risk of your lives. Are you prepared to expose those women and children to a dreadful fate at the hands of the Indians? Onomo here will confirm all that I say.”
When he uttered the last sentence he nodded towards the impassive Indian warrior. One of the men whispered to me that Onomo was a Pawnee who had been educated among the whites and was warmly attached to them, though he frequently visited his own people and wore his native dress when on the plains. This made both Henry and me regard him with a great increase of interest, and Henry said he had read about such Indians in novels.
Onomo, in a very simple and dignified way, speaking fluent English, corroborated all of Col. Griscom’s statements. All the young men of his race were looking for white scalps, he said, and it was almost impossible to cross the plains now.
As soon as he said what he had to say he stepped back from the fire and stood in the background of the circle as erect and impassive as ever.
Capt Simpson, our leader, was greatly troubled, and for the matter of that so were all of us. Col. Griscom told us to think it over, and with a polite good-night went into the fort, followed by Onomo.