A RAID BY THE KIOWAS. 



T. C. AUSTIN. 



The article in Recreation, by Lieut. 

 Sands, " A Close Call for Gen. Sherman," 

 recalled an episode in my life, never to be 

 forgotten. The scene of those mutilated 

 forms, victims of the red man's murderous 

 vengeance, was burned deep into my soul, 

 as if seared with a hot iron. There are, 

 however, some incidents connected with 

 that massacre not mentioned by the -Lieu- 

 tenant. 



During the spring of 1871 I was con- 

 nected with that Texas veteran, Gen. A. B. 

 Norton, now deceased, of Dallas, in the 

 publication of " Norton's Union Intelli- 

 gencer," just being revived from its slum- 

 ber, caused by the rebellion. There were 

 few railroads in Texas at that time, and the 

 vast plains West of Fort Worth were a 

 range for thousands of wild cattle, with a 

 knowledge of man limited to the cowboys 

 who occasionally rounded them up to 

 brand them. Weatherford, now a city of 

 several thousands, was a village, the in- 

 habitants of which were in constant dread 

 of Indians, roving bands being frequently 

 seen in close proximity. 



Gen. Sherman had been a guest of Gen. 

 Norton. From Dallas he went to Austin, 

 and thence to Fort Griffin, on his way 

 North. The day following his departure 

 for Fort Griffin, I started on a business 

 trip to Weatherford. I spent a day at Fort 

 Worth, then but a village of 100 inhabitants, 

 and on the following morning set out on 

 horse-back, for a 40-mile ride. 



The day was perfect, showing the mag- 

 nificent beauty of the valleys of the Trini- 

 ties to perfection. The road was the old 

 Government trail, which followed the di- 

 vides, between the streams, wherever pos- 

 sible. The ride was solitary, with no com- 

 panion, save my horse and a brace of 

 revolvers at my belt. 



About 9 o'clock I crossed the Clear 

 Fork and followed the road on the divide 

 between the Clear and Middle Forks. On 

 either side, far in the distance and below 

 me, could be seen the 2 streams, like silver 

 threads, winding through the low timber, 

 which resembled a tow-path. There were 

 no habitations; nature held sway in all its 

 glory. Mile after mile was traversed, while 

 I was " wrapped in the solitude of my own 

 imagination." 



Late in the afternoon I overtook an ox 

 team, hauling a load of lumber to Weather- 

 ford. The driver told me he was going into 

 camp at an old cattle corral about 3 miles 

 ahead, and asked me to share his quarters 

 for the night. I declined, for it was neces- 

 sary to be at my destination as early as 

 possible the next morning. I passed the 



old corral an hour before sundown, and, 

 crossing the little stream near by, proceeded 

 in a smart gallop to the divide, reaching it 

 just as the sun disappeared. 



At the divide I stopped and glanced 

 back. The valleys and plains were dotted 

 with cattle, while the setting sun seemed 

 to kiss the hill-tops a lingering good-night. 

 My companion of an hour before was just 

 entering the corral, and as he halted his 

 team, I spurred over the hill, reaching my 

 destination, a farm owned by a man named 

 Johnson, at 8 o'clock. 



This was a stopping-place for travellers 

 going to and from Weatherford. The cor- 

 ral was filled with teams, and the house was 

 occupied by 10 or 15 men, who, like me, had 

 been overtaken by night. Supper was be- 

 ing served and nearly an hour was occupied 

 with that meal. 



The last man had scarcely risen when a 

 horse's hoofs were heard on the road, ceas- 

 ing at the gate. An instant later the door 

 was thrown open by a man, all excitement 

 and breathless. " Redskins! " he exclaimed, 

 and a thunderbolt could not have created 

 greater consternation. Instantly all was 

 confusion; some of the men rushed for 

 their firearms, some for one thing and some 

 another. A few of the cooler heads asked 

 an explanation, and the messenger told his 

 story. 



He had been on a round-up, and shortly 

 after sundown started for the old corral, 

 to spend the night. He found it in ruins 

 and the bloody corpse of the teamster, 

 scalped and mutilated, was lying near by. 

 The cowboy at once sped on, to give 

 settlers warning. 



It is needless to say sleep was out of the 

 question that night. A messenger was dis- 

 patched to Weatherford for assistance, 

 while men were placed at various points to 

 guard against surprise. The night passed 

 without molestation, however. 



Early the next morning 10 of us went to 

 the corral. There we found the body of the 

 teamster, filled with arrows and pinned to 

 the earth. The poor fellow had been scalped 

 and otherwise mutilated. The carcasses of 

 his cattle were lying near by. 



A thorough examination of the surround- 

 ings was made, and from appearances there 

 were evidently 75 Indians in the band. The 

 trail led up the valley, in a Northwesterly 

 direction, but our party being small, it was 

 decided to await reinforcements. At Q 

 o'clock 25 men from Weatherford arrived, 

 when the chase was taken up. 



During the day, several cattlemen joined 

 us. From them we learned the murderers 

 were Kiowas, in command of Satank, a 



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