HOW WE LOST OUR MULES. 



NELSON YARNALL. 



After the Phil Kearney massacre, and 

 the treaty of our government with the 

 Sioux Indians, under which Forts Phil 

 Kearney and C. F. Smith were aban- 

 doned, the mules from those posts were 

 sent to Fort Laramie and turned over to 

 the quartermaster there to be foraged 

 through the winter. When Laramie re- 

 ceived its allotment for forage no allow- 

 ance was made for animals from other 

 posts. As hay and grain could not be 

 had so late in the season, it v. as thought 

 best to place the mules in charge of com- 

 petent employees, and send them out to 

 be herded on the grass for the winter or 

 until forage could be brought out from the 

 Missouri river. 



Accordingly the mules were placed in 

 charge of a man named Daniel McCall, 

 who chose from the post employees a 

 competent cook, one teamster, 2 day 

 herders and 2 night watchmen, a Mr. 

 Smith and me being employed for this 

 duty. We prepared to make ourselves as 

 comfortable as possible, drawing from the 

 quartermaster good tents, axes and cloth- 

 ing; from the commissary a liberal supply 

 of provisions, and from the ordnance de- 

 partment good guns and ammunition. The 

 mules were counted and receipted for by 

 Mr. McCall, and we started for the graz- 

 ing grounds on the Laramie river, about 

 20 miles from Fort Laramie in a Westerly 

 direction. 



There were something over 100 animals. 

 They were poor; but although the weather 

 was cold, it being midwinter, the grass 

 was so plentiful on the range that in a 

 short time they had gained in flesh won- 

 derfully, and when turned out of the corral 

 would run and play like colts. It was sur- 

 prising to see so great a change in so 

 short a time, as well as amusing to watch 

 them in their playful moods. 



The place chosen for our camo was in a 

 beautiful grove of cottonwood trees, 

 which, beside affording excellent shelter 

 from the cold winds, furnished an abun- 

 dance of good fuel and material for a 

 corral. This we made by felling trees in a 

 circle. 



After our tents were pitched and every- 

 thing prepared for the remainder of the 

 winter we congratulated ourselves on the 

 good time we would have. Antelope and 

 deer were plentiful, and a good supply of 

 meat for our camp, with an occasional 

 choice cut for the commanding officer and 

 the quartermaster, was. ^.lrriQst a sure 

 thing, we thought. 



On the North and South sides of the 

 river were low, broken hills, with coulees 

 coming into the river at short intervals. 

 This broken, hilly country terminated on 

 the South side about a mile to the East 

 of our camp, and a comparatively level 

 plateau extended thence Eastward 4 or 5 

 miles, making an ideal place to hunt ante- 

 lope. The rough, hilly country to the 

 Westward of this plateau afforded an ex- 

 cellent hunting ground for deer of both 

 kinds. It was also an excellent hiding 

 place for Indians, as we soon learned. 



It was my custom to retire at sunrise 

 and sleep until our noonday meal was 

 ready. Then, if not rested, I would retire 

 again in the afternoon. 



One fine day, after I had eaten my din- 

 ner, I shouldered my gun and went after 

 a deer. I had not gone far, however, when 

 I saw fresh moccasin tracks. I imme- 

 diately returned and reported what I had 

 seen to Mr. McCall, but he thought the 

 tracks might have been made by some of 

 the coffee coolers from the post, who 

 might be out hunting. I argued that the 

 coffee coolers would not hunt in our vicin- 

 ity without visiting our camp. 



The matter was dropped, however, and 

 nothing more thought of it for a short 

 time. We had enjoyed, for a month per- 

 haps, the pleasant time we were foolish 

 enough to anticipate, when one morning 

 while Mr. McCall and party, excepting one 

 day herder, the cook and me, were absent 

 at the post for the purpose of renewing 

 our supply of provisions, a stalwart Sioux 

 Indian appeared in our camp. I had 

 turned the mules over to the day herder 

 and had retired to try to make up some 

 of the sleep I had lost the previous night. 

 The cook was busy baking a Dutch oven 

 full of fat deer's ribs, and I had just gone 

 to sleep when the cook's head appeared 

 in my tent, and in a voice which I thought 

 sounded a little shaky he said, 



"Yarnall, for God's sake, get up; there's 

 an Indian in camp and I can't make out 

 what he wants." 



"Perhaps he smelled the meat you are 

 cooking and came in to have a feast," I 

 answered. 



I knew the sign language, and as I was 

 the only man in camp who could talk with 

 an Indian, I dressed and walked out to 

 the camp fire, where the Indian was sit- 

 ting, eyeing our oven of meat. I waited 

 some minutes for him to open the con- 

 versation, but as he showed no inclination 

 to begin. I asked him, in the sign lan- 



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