Return of the Great Hunters
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Return of the Great Hunters
Cattle Drives Website
Legends of Dodge City Website
Order Books
Wild West Podcast presents Return of the Great Hunters, part 6, the Battle of Adobe Walls, written by Mike King and narrated by Brad Smalley. At sunrise I ventured out to take in the morning air, while retrieving my horse from open grazing and gave my bones a stretch. Sunlight filled the sky. Pure, scattered light, its hue ambitiously illuminating each crevice of the land. Sparrows chirped in an explicit background melody. With breath paused in my lungs, I wished time would halt. I admired the landscape, thinking about where we would set up camp on this day. I looked out to the east and on the horizon I saw what I considered to be an approaching band of Indians. I must confess, however, that the landscape possessed little interest for me. When I saw that the Indians were coming to attack us and that they would be at hand in a few moments, I turned quickly, picking up my pace, running and yelling we're under attack. I was at full run when I looked over to Handra Hand's place. I saw Watson and Og hesitate for a moment, then turned and ran for Handra Hand's Adobe. Welch and Shepard sprang from the roof as I heard the old government wagon master and experienced frontiersman, jim Handra Hand, yell out save your fire. For 30 yards.
Speaker 1:At first sight of the charge, it looked as if the Indians were after the horses. I grabbed the reins of my horse and ran to the northeast. I paused for an instant and looked back over my shoulder to take one more glance. I wanted to avoid the charge. But notice, the raiding Indians were a much larger force than I had first imagined. I made it to my wagon, tied my riding horse to it and made a dash to Handra Hand's.
Speaker 1:When the Indians approached within a hundred yards, the hunters outside Handra Hand's fired one volley and retreated inside for cover. The gunfire caused an avalanche of war whooping. The war whooping had very considerable effect upon the roots of a man's hair. I fired one shot but had no desire to wait and see where the bullet went. I turned and ran as quickly as possible to the nearest building, which happened to be Handra Hand's saloon. I found it closed. I certainly felt lonesome. The alarm had spread and the boys were preparing to defend themselves. I shouted at them to let me in. An aide seemed to pass before they opened the door and I sprang inside. Bullets were whistling and knocking up the dust all around me. Just as the door was open for me, billy Aug ran up and fell inside, so exhausted he could no longer stand. I'm confident that if Aug had been timed he would have been forever the world's record. Aug had made a desperate race and that he escaped seemed incredible.
Speaker 1:When I entered Handra Hand's Adobe I saw ten men. Seven were armed with Buffalo 50 caliber guns, some of them the best marksmen on the planes, because James Handra Hand were Bat Masterson, billy Dixon, mike Welch, shepard, andy Johnson, aug Watson, clark and McKinstry. All of them young but one were planesmen. War Chief Kwanah galloped swiftly by Handra Hand's place. Kwanah saw the open door and rode straight at the window where I was positioned. The red man fired his pistol from a running horse and missed. The gun barrel suddenly appeared through the doorway and Kwanah was shot through the breast and put out of the battle At 30 yards. The effect of such a volley from such men was terrific.
Speaker 1:The formation of the Aborigines was split in twain, as if cut by a butcher's knife. Gents to the right, ladies to the left called young Shepard in pleasant recollection of social functions at Dodge City. 20 feet a painted pony ran pounding the northeast corner of Handra Hand's Adobe before the spirit fled from the bravest young warrior of the Comanche Nation, stonecalf's nephew. I saw him pitch from his pony, shot through the body by a.50 caliber bullet. Stonecalf's nephew, now dead, lay within seven feet to the building whose mud walls he so boldly tried to storm. The long lance shivered when its point struck the ground and the dandy trapping is quivered in the dust. As he went down, his feather-covered streamers uttered mockingly in the air at last, settling slowly about the form of the young warrior. His followers fell beside him or were fleeing from that terrible fire on the fleet of ponies. In an instant they disappeared as quickly and as mysteriously as they came. As the bar and the door went down, the horses of the Indians struck the door till it bent before them.
Speaker 1:Adobe walls was now aflame with fire from the buffalo hunters. It was a fight for our lives. The band which went after our hunters' horses found great difficulty when Jim Handra Hand yelled out Take a bath, you damn engines, screamed Jim from his firing post. No civilized horse will stand for an engine. Handra Hand, ducked from a piercing bullet that ricocheted over his head, he leaned up against the wall and smiled at me. You know our horses. Sometimes they become restless when the red men are three or four miles away. There are no bathtubs among those Kiwis and Comanches, gasped Handra Hand with a smile. Handra Hand turned and fired at the Indians who were trying to steal the horses. He killed the pony of the man who was after his own big span, which the horse thieves found very troublesome, and, having dismounted him, thought he was about to get him.
Speaker 1:Just around the corner, just north of the fence, slept Ike and Shorty Shaddler in their wagon, farthest from safety, and camped where they could not see the Indians approaching. They were caught, killed and scalped in their wagon. The only man about Adobe walls who failed to reach a place of safety that morning. Their little dog, which seemed to have endeavored to give them a warning, was also scalped. One of the boys had left the wagon and could have reached Leonard's door but discovering that his brother had not awakened, ran back to warn him and die with him. Looks like we lost our popularity with him.
Speaker 1:Redskins, the first dash out of the box, said Mike Welch. He then pointed over to Leonard's For my protective position. I looked over and saw the hunters in the north building. I could see the Indians chopping up the Shaddler wagon and surmised they were about to put fire to the store. To the right dashed another division riding straight for Leonard's open door. A smaller band swung further to the right to where the horses were picketed. At the first shots, fred Leonard, who was in his corral, ran into his store where 15,000 rounds of fixed ammunition and a large stock of goods baited the raiders.
Speaker 1:Billy Tyler and Fred Leonard went to the stockade but were compelled to retreat, the Indians firing at them through the openings between the stockade pickets. At the northwest and southeast corners of the stockade were bastions. Leonard and Tyler went to the northwest one, but the Indians poked their guns through the portals from the outside and fired. We could see Billy Tyler out in the corral trying to take cover between the bastions. Then Leonard appeared. They were now both out in the open.
Speaker 1:Tyler was running to the northeast bastion and firing into the stockade fence. Mike yelled out get down, tyler, get down. It was too late by the time the sound left Mike lips. Tyler was down. We looked over and could see the Indian guns poking through the portholes from outside the stockade, firing and hitting Billy several times, pausing for a moment the doorway to discharge one last volley. Tyler fell, shot through the lungs. He spun around from the impact of the shots reaching for his chest before he disappeared from our view just short of the door and was quickly born inside. Old Sam Smith carried a gun in one hand and cartridge belt in the other. He was the last man to enter as he swung. The door to the foe was only 30 feet away and fired. As they came. The wound did quanta.
Speaker 1:In the lead, the men at Leonard's were furnished with eight new sharp trifles, a case of which Leonard broke open and distributed With Fred Leonard were James Campbell, frank Brown, charlie Armitage, dutch, henry Billy Tyler, old Sam Smith, old man Keeler, fred Myers and Fyton McCabe, who was Irish, some raw and some veterans. One division swung to the left and swooped down on Langtons. I could see Tom Keefe with his seized blankets pounding on Langtons door. Jimmy Langton sprang out of bed and admitted him, yet not so quickly as the Indians fired through the open doors they came on. Tom Keefe had run across from his little sawed blacksmith shop between Henry, hans and Leonard's, leaving it unoccupied. At Langtons were James Langton, george EB, thomas Keefe, william Olds and one other man gave battle protecting Mrs William Olds and a large stock of goods which had come down from Dodge City in 19 wagons. This was a better directed attack, as twenty braves dismounted and attempted to rush the door. But it was the Indians who did not last a minute. The fire from Langtons and the crossfire from where Master Centinide secured an advantageous position were too much for them and after a desperate but futile conflict they fell back again. The ride on top of us screamed Jimmy Langton.
Speaker 1:Glancing from the windows, the men in Langtons found that the Indians had dismounted in the rear of their house and were giving a war dance in anticipation of a comfortable and immediate victory. A well-directed volley, however soon to spell this illusion. Again and again, the Indians dashed against the doors of the building in the endeavor to break them down. Running at full speed, they hurled their horses against the defenses or whirling back them against the doors, hoping their weight would force an entrance. Long after the sun had risen in the heavens, they continued to make frequent charges of the quarters of the hundreds, retreating at intervals along the creek or behind the stockade. In all the dwellings, provisions had been utilized as barricades.
Speaker 1:Leonard, armoured in Dutch Henry, now quickly threw down the sacks of flour piled against the north side, punched out the chinking and saw five Indians on their ponies by the wagon. Three rifles cracked, three Indians fell dead and two retreated. A six, with a trumpet across his back and shaddler's canned goods in his arms, sprang out of the wagon and ran north. About sixty braves, led by a young Kaiawa chief, dashed with fearless valor right to the big gate of Leonard's corral, just south of his building. So swift, so fierce was the charge that the tramper, their horses, rose like thunder in the ears of the men in Leonard's store. As they swept up to the barricade, the young Kaiawa chief rapidly dismounted and attempted to throw open the gate to the corral. A dozen sharpshooter's rifles cracked. In the flash of an eye he was down and his pony gone.
Speaker 1:The sixty braves became dismayed by the fall of the Kaiawa chief and the rapid fire from Langdon's Adobe. It only took a few moments of eager shooting at the windows to break the ranks and the band fled from the gate. The fire rained down on the retreating Indians so arty that they were unable to take away their chief or his fallen comrades. The Kaiawa chief was wounded in three places, his hip bone broken. From our position at Henryhands we completely covered the ground around Langtons, except on his southern exposure. The Indians had full control of the south of Leonard's Stockade and nearly a clean sweep of Leonard's east side. Our Adobe was the key to the situation. It probably saved Langtons small force and contributed materially to Leonard's defense.
Speaker 1:The first furious assault of the enemy was broken In front of Leonard's and Henryhands. To the rear of Langtons and Henryhands the ground was strewn with dead and wounded, with ponies and Indians lying in the Texas sun. After this ineffectual attack and terrible loss, the Indians were in a high state of excitement. They circled about the place firing from under their horses' necks, dropping on their horses' sides and holding on by the heels. One of the red cavalrymen dismounted behind a small sod outbuilding, took station above the window with his Winchester and began firing. That Masterson returned fire on him. Masterson let go six shots in the direction of the dismounted brave, missing him. Each time I looked over at Masterson he rubbed his scalp like it was a bother to him. His voice came out just the same as it did after smoking and drinking whiskey. Damn, I shot at that cuss bug six times and missed every time, said Masterson in disgust. Masterson took a deep breath. He looked out the window and saw the Indian backing his way the Indian got in range of fire from Bob Wright's store, masterson commenced getting a beat on him. As the Indian backed up an inch or two more, masterson let off another round and Mr Indian, bounded in the air about three feet, dropped his rifle and fell dead. Masterson sat like a cold cup of coffee waiting to be drained away and turned around to Shepard and said Yep, I got him. Then, from a distant mound, we observed a council of chiefs which attracted Sharpshooter's fire and the medicine man's pony fell to the ground. The bullet struck his pony where there was no paint.
Speaker 1:The first charge of the Indian attack on Adobe Walls had come to cessation. I felt the tension against the shaking of my limbs. I tried to suppress it. I needed a drink in the silence to counteract the fear that engulfed me. I leaned up against a supporting wall inside of Jim Henry Han Saloon, with every moment of the first attack being played back in my mind. It was as if a timeless hell had just passed over us. The attack came on quickly, so quickly that from everywhere hunters ran for cover. I was thirsty. In the rush of excitement I remembered how quickly we divided ourselves between Langtons and Lennards. The smaller number of hunters now defended Lennards. Some of the men had stirred from their bedrolls, were undressed. They found themselves fighting in their long johns and undershirts, like old Sam Smith who suddenly discovered that in his eagerness in giving the invaders a cordial welcome, he had neglected to complete his toilet and had been fighting without trousers.
Speaker 1:During this first half hour charge, the Indians rode around the buildings looking for weak spots. The Indians had shot through the windows, leaving fifty bullets buried in the walls, or tore through the openings. The Shaddler brothers caught asleep in their wagon and never had a chance. They lay scalped dead along with their Newfoundland dog. The Indians had banged their rifle butts against the barred doors. Each approach to the doors were held off by three Winchester rifles and seven fifty-caliber buffalo guns. From inside the walls.
Speaker 1:Each hunter viciously replied to the attackers. Each of us served notice that we knew our business and fought for our lives. During the first charge, a pale specter struck the young men of the Comanches as swiftly as the angel of death smote the firstborn of the Egyptians. A shot then rang out from under my window. A warrior whom I had severely wounded, without hope of rescue, fired his last shot. This plumed warrior of the prairies put a pistol to his head and closed out his day in self-inflicted death.
Speaker 1:Only the hunters within our adobe must have been fully awake. The men in Langtons and Lennards adobe must have been taken by surprise. Each dwelling then filled with smoke echoed a lonely cry which broke the silence. The cry from Billy Tyler rebounded from Fred Leonard's place. Every few minutes Tyler would scream. It had a raw quality the realness of a person consumed by a pain that knew no end or limit. Then he would go quiet.
Speaker 1:Masterson, who sat next to me, struggled with Tyler's cries. I need to go over and see about Tyler, he said. I should be at his side. At least then he would know we cared. I looked over at Masterson. His face surged with grief. Masterson's grief, expelled in every breath, always reached higher peaks and was never sufficiently soothed by his long intakes of the smoke-filled air. I'll cover you, I said I could see Masterson tensing against the idea of running in the open. His limbs shook, trying to suppress his emotions for a few seconds before he leaped from the window and out in the open. A kind of thick silence came over me as a chill surged into my shoulders watching Masterson weave his way to Fred Leonard's place.
Speaker 1:Masterson climbed through the window at Leonard's, found his friend Tyler dying and with tender solicitude sought to ease and comfort him, gentle as a mother. Masterson raised the head of the dying lad, alas, his same age. Tyler called for water. There was not a drop, left Outstepped old man Keeler, leonard's cook, the veteran plainsman and the oldest man there. Gimme the bucket, demanded old man Keeler as he sprang through the window which Masterson entered a moment before.
Speaker 1:Keeler walked straight across the corral to the pump. Keeler's dog saw the old man, ran out from his hiding place and crawled between his feet. The Indians from around the corner of the doge and hiding in the grass saw Keeler and opened a volley of fire upon him. The gunfire was fierce and constant, as if the whole west side of the stockade was on fire. They were all shooting at Keeler. Keeler reached the pump whose every stroke we could hear was an ancient and dilapidated affair. With each moment of his handle, the rasping squeak could be heard halfway to the hills and created on our ears. The sound of the pump ticked like a fatal clock to a death watch. Volley after volley came from the west end of the stockade. The Indians shot the dog between his Masters feet and a shower of bullets fell about Keeler. But the old man pumped that bucket full for the dying Tyler To old man Keeler.
Speaker 1:Cook, hossler, roustabout, hunter, frontiersman, warrior, prince, knight and Hero, strolled back across the corral, lifted the bucket up to the window and came in after it untouched. Keeler looked back out the window at his old and faithful friend and said I'd like to get that devilish engine that shot my dog. There were about 20 bullet holes in his dog. Masterson took some of the water, bathed Tyler's face and gave him a drink. Then, with the roar of a hundred guns outside the stockade in his ears, his head fell over to one side and Billy Tyler was dead.
Speaker 1:Death wasn't kind. Masterson knew that. It snatched where it could, taking people who were far too young, far too kind. The death that day to Tyler didn't pretend to care. It didn't pretend to distinguish between young or old. The hooded veil of death hung over the Leonard's place for a long time. It had never touched Masterson quite so close.
Speaker 1:Just then, from the northwest, I could hear the meet and welcome of a bugle call. The bugle sounded a rally which stirred my heart with the hopes of rescue. But the Indians returned to the charge singly, in pairs and in groups, eagerly generally unavailingly hoping to bear away their wounded and their dead. Every bugle call was understood and carried out to the letter by the Indians, showing that the bugler had the Indians thoroughly drilled. On the second bugle call, hanrahan looked over at me with puzzlement. Who's this bugler? Asked Hanrahan. Augh hunkered down below an open window and replied he must be a deserter from the colored cavalry. I don't think so, shouted Andy Johnson. He has to be a half-breed raised by the tribe. But by this time the questions about the bugler had given place to a cool resolution and unerring precision, a marchmanship.
Speaker 1:The Indians came on waving their shields to deflect the bullets. But when a sharp-sripled bullet hit a shield, nothing was seen but flying feathers in a dead Indian. Their efforts resulted only in additional fatalities Along. About ten o'clock the Indians fell back to a safer distance from the Buffalo guns. Some of us noticed a pony standing near the corner of a big stack of buffalo hides at the rear of Rath's building. We could see that an Indian behind the hides was holding the pony by the bridle. So we shot the pony and it fell dead. The pony was gaily decorated with red calico plated in his mane. The falling of the pony left the Indians somewhat exposed to our fire and the boys at Hanrahan's and Rath opened upon him in full blast. No Indian ever danced a lively or jig. We kept him jumping like a flea back and forth behind the pile of hides.
Speaker 1:I got possession of a big 50 gun earlier in the fight and was making considerable noise with it. I sized up what was going on behind the pile of buffalo hides and took careful aim at the place where I thought the Indian was crashed. I shot through one corner of the hides. It looked to me as if the Indian jumped six feet straight up into the air, howling with pain. Evidently I hit him. He ran zigzag fashion for 30 or 40 yards, screaming at every jump, and dropped down in the tall grass. The Indians ran in this matter when under fire to prevent our getting a bead on them.
Speaker 1:I could hear the Indians behind the buffalo hides engaged in continuous conversation with those in the high grass. The purpose was soon apparent. From the high grass came volley after volley at the windows, so effectively that it was worth a man's life to appear there, even Hanrahan and I being driven from the windows for the time, after a while, under cover of this fire, most of the Indians reached the high grass and were comparatively safe and well on their way to the hills, creeping on their hands and knees. Finally, an Indian in the grass would give a peculiar whoop. A reply would come from the hills and in the moment a couple horsemen would emerge to his aid, riding furiously. They would reach him as he rose to run, covering his escape and perhaps dragging him to a place of safety. They recklessly risked their own lives to rescue their friends. The Indians were very brave. For hours they kept in rage and died like men and carried their dead and wounded off the field All but 13 dead.
Speaker 1:Yet by 11 o'clock in the morning there realized the futility of the further effort to storm our quarters and withdrew to the surrounding hills for long range firing. We'd been pouring a pile of bullets from our stronghold and about noon we're running short of ammunition. Henry Han and I decided it was time to replenish our supply and that we would have to make a run for Rath's store where there were thousands of rounds which had been brought from Dodge City for the Buffalo Hunters. We peered curiously outside to see if any Indians were ambushed where they could get a pot shot at us. The coast looked clear, so we crawled out of the window and hit the ground running like jackrabbit. Submit it to Rath's in the fastest kind of time. The Indian saw us, however, before the boys could open the door, and opened up on us at long range. The door framed a good target. I have no idea how many guns were cracking away at us, but I do know that bullets rattled around us like hail. Providence seemed to be looking after us and we got inside without a scratch.
Speaker 1:Though badly winded, we found everybody at Rath's in good shape. Langton took this time to account for his stock and found that all his canned goods had been shot off his shelves. There were fewer men at Rath's than in any other place, and their anxiety was increased by the presence of a woman, Mrs Olds. If the latter fact should be learned by the Indians, there was no telling what they might attempt, and a determined attack by the Indians would have meant death for everybody in the store, for none would have suffered themselves to be taken alive, nor permitted Mrs Olds to be captured. We remained there for some time.
Speaker 1:After half an hour or so at Rath's store, henry Han returned to his building, but I decided to stay. The Indians must have seen Henry Han leave the building with a sack full of cartridges, for they began the fight once more. I wanted to get a better look at the situation, so I decided to crawl out of the back door and position myself on a trance among grain sacks. When I reached the top of the barricade, I peeked out and saw some movement in the tall grass. I squirmed to get my balance planted one knee, aimed my heavy 50 and pressed the trigger. It was at this moment I realized my mistake. I should never have shot from such a straddled position. In an instant I felt the tremendous recoil of my gun blow me backward off my perch, like a spent child trying to play King of the Hill. I tumbled down with such a force that I rolled twice before hitting a shelf of cookery and tinware.
Speaker 1:About four in the afternoon, a body of horseman came from the hills northwest of Leonard's to make a charge, but, being promptly received with a lively fuselage, swerved into the hills again, though a few still lingered behind the buffalo hides, in the grass, in the willows and more behind the stockade Taking umber at you. This uncalled for attention. A young chief from the group, rode furiously toward Adobe Walls. He came with win 100 yards and circle off to the hills, again, shaking his lance, waving his shield and, with much bravado, challenging the hunters to come out and fight. His impotent wrath and his fiery sally aroused the amusement of the white men, brought a burst of derisive laughter, iconical cheers and a shower of bullets from which he escaped unhurt, riding off with a loud voice of violence. An even more desperately determined, brave charged singly on Langtons. In admiration of his gallantry, the chivalric Langton cried to the men to refrain from firing. The red knight rode rapidly to the window, fired his pistol at the borderman, directly at George EB, and wheeled to retreat. Mr EB thought that this was carrying courtesy a little too far and retaliated by shooting the unlucky hero off his horse.
Speaker 1:It was about this time that Charlie Armitage, a crack shot, promptly borrowed the 40 caliber rifle that Leonard had made for his own particular use. Charlie spotted the bugler as he was running away from a wagon owned by the Shaddler Brothers, both of whom were killed in the same wagon. The bugler had his bugle with him at the time he was shot by Armitage. Also, he was carrying a tin can filled with sugar and another filled with ground coffee, one under each arm. Armitage shot him through the back with a 40 caliber sharp rifle as he was making his escape.
Speaker 1:By five o'clock in the afternoon, the enemy was driven from the shelter of the stockade to the hills, but the fighting continued at long range till sundown. When the firing ceased, henry Han rigged up a black flag as a distress signal. Masterson Frank Brown, leonard's plucky clerk, went out to examine the Shaddler's wagon and reported their death. We had all hoped that they might have escaped to the creek and when night fell, william Tyler, isaac Shaddler and his brother were buried in one grave. I could not avoid the sight before my eyes the after effects of the battle and the carnage of death that lay before me.
Speaker 1:The battlefield lay quiet, for it was now graveyard of the unburied. All of our stock were slaughtered. Mrs Old's pet white Mustang Coles had been killed along with five Indians, right next to Rass building. The Indians eyes were as immobile as their limbs. Their souls had long departed to the celestial plains to walk with their ancestors. The war cries had died away. The shouting of the slaughter was hushed. Silence slay on the red stained dirt.
Speaker 1:Later that evening, orlando Bond came in from Palo Dero with a load of buffalo hides. He told us he heard the battle three miles away. He decided to unhitch his team take to the brush till evening when he slipped, unmolested into Leonard's stockade. The next day, two more hunters straggled in, unnoted by the Indians. On this, the day after the fight, not a shot was fired. The Indians were busy burying their dead and carrying for their wounded.
Speaker 1:All of us at Adobe Walls took this time to prepare for another battle. We took time to divide our forces equally between Leonard's and Langton's because of the large stock of goods to be protected there. Henry Hens place was abandoned, walls were dug and the two sites were amply fortified. That night some of the hunters made their way through the Indian lines and scoured the prairie for miles, warning their straggling comrades. A hunter named Reed went out of the camp and, across the prairie, toured Dodge City for reinforcements, for which he received a magnificent sum of $125.
Speaker 1:On the third day I had taken a watch over the valley Before the rising sun. I was only silhouette cast inside the walls of Langton's place. Masterson was fast asleep under my guarded window. The sun's golden rays touched my face and then his. The sunlight filled the sky with pure, scattered light. It's he who, ambitiously, illuminating each crevice of the barren land before me, the sparrows chirped an explicit background melody. With breath paused in my lungs, I wish time would halt, that we would be rescued from the hour by hour daylight attacks. The willows below the butte shone as if they were wearing golden crowns, and the rocks above were unable to absorb the bright sparks of the sun. Then I noticed the flashes were not from the sun but echoed with gunfire.
Speaker 1:Opening the battle with a brisk volley, the Indians began firing from the willows at the base of the prominent butte. They started their approach from the east by the creek. All of the buffalo hunters and shelter promptly replied and the Indians were dislodged from that point. All day the Indians circled about the place in little groups and carried on the battle at long range, withdrawing behind the hills from time to time. In the late afternoon a party of about fifteen Indians appeared on the side of the bluff east of Adobe Walls Creek, and some of the boys suggested that I try my big fifty on him. The distance was not far from three-fourths of a mile. I took careful aim and pulled the trigger. We saw an Indian fall from his horse. The others dashed out of sight behind a clump of timber. A few moments later, two Indians sprinted on foot toward the dead Indian lay, seized his body and scurried to cover. They had risked their lives, as we had frequently observed, to rescue a comrade who might not only be wounded but dead. I was, admittedly, an excellent marksman, yet this was what might be called a scratch shot.
Speaker 1:By the fifth day, enough hunters had arrived to make us feel comparatively safe. Yet it was expedient that we should protect ourselves as adequately as possible. So the men began fortifying the buildings. None of them had been finished, nor had any portholes been cut in the walls. Our shooting was done from the windows and transoms. With portholes we could have killed many more Indians. A little enclosure with sawed walls was now built on top of Rath's store and another on top of Myers for lookouts. A ladder led from the inside to these lookouts.
Speaker 1:On this day, william Olds was stationed in the lookout on Rath's store to watch for Indians while the other men were at work. The lookout on the other building shouted that Indians were coming, and all of us ran for our guns and shelter inside the buildings. Just as I entered Rath's store. I saw Olds coming down the ladder with his gun in his hand. A moment later his gun went off accidentally, tearing off the top of Olds' head. At the same instant Mrs Olds rushed from an adjoining room In time to see the body of her husband roll from the ladder and crumple at her feet a torrent of blood gushing from the terrible wound.
Speaker 1:The trading post was emptied soon after, as most of the clerks and hunters returned to dodge with the Dixon group. The site continued to be a camping ground for the ones who stayed. The buildings were abandoned altogether about six weeks later, when Lieutenant Baldwin rode through with his scouts and column of six cavalry, allowing the Indians to return one last time to reclaim, finally, the bones of their dead. The hostile Indians burned adobe walls to the ground, even ripping up the timber pile bases For the Indians. The battle of adobe walls was a crippling defeat. The total number of Indians who dieted adobe walls was reported to be at least 70. But in 1876, chief whirlwind of the Cheyennes admitted the death of 115. A scout with a Baldwin expedition reported at least 30 Indian graves dotting the buttes surrounding adobe walls. The true figure will never be known.
Speaker 1:The Indians' frightful losses notwithstanding, the battle of adobe walls was the beginning, not the end, of the great 1874-1875 Indian War. The Indians, now, stung by their humiliation at the walls, made one final desperate, bloody attempt to salvage their way of life, terrorizing the plains of the Southwest for months, a large war party splintered and the smaller groups ravaged the prairies, burning and pillaging a vast expanse of Texas, oklahoma, kansas, new Mexico and Southeastern Colorado. The weather, as if in response, turned deathly hot, as hardly a drop of rain fell. The rest of the summer Plagues of locust devoured the plant life, leaving only bare baked earth to reflect the sun's searing heat. As secondary streams and then the major rivers withered within their banks and soon disappeared entirely.
Speaker 1:The buffalo hunters returned to Dodge City. The town had cheered the expedition out in March and everyone came to greet them upon their return. The news of their return and the fight at adobe walls made each man a hero. The return of the great hunters gave each citizen of Dodge City a spark, setting a fire in the hearts that had become tender, dry with economic disparity. The returning hunters became a legend in that moment, recognized for their sacrifice to torch the spirit of bravery that would be passed on from generation to generation. Several of the hunters went straight to the depot, bought a ticket and jumped the first train out of Dodge. But some hunters remained and continued to hunt and profit from the buffalo trade until it finally came to an end in 1884. Batmaster Sinanai decided to become Indian scouts, which these stories will be told later in Tales of the West.