the buffalo chase and the Indian habits generally, that they stood quietly behind their riders, many of them putting their heads down to nibble the green grass upon which they were standing. During the desperate fight the horses and ponies were of course exposed, and the infantrymen had become so attached to their strong and handsome ponies that when one was shot, it was a real bereavement to his owner; and in more than one case it was noticed that tears filled the eyes of the soldier as his favorite pony fell dead.

Sergeant McHugh had galloped forward with his Hotchkiss breechloading gun, keeping in line with the mounted infantry, and had gone into action, throwing shells into the camp with decided effect. The infantry swept around to the left to enclose that portion of the camp and force the Indians into a deep ravine. The battalion of the Second Cavalry had stampeded nearly every animal in the valley, and portions of that command were used immediately in circling the camp, in order to enclose it. As I passed completely around the Indians over the ground occupied by the mounted infantry and the Second Cavalry, to the line occupied by the Seventh Cavalry, I was shocked to see the lifeless body of that accomplished officer and thorough gentleman, Hale, lying upon the crest of a little knoll, with his white charger dead beside him. A little further on was the body of the young and spirited Biddle. Captains Moylan and Godfrey were badly wounded; and in fact a great part of the line encircling the camp was dotted with dead and wounded soldiers and horses. The loss of the Nez Percés was even more severe. The fight had been sudden, rapid, and most desperate on both sides.

CAPTAIN HALE.

From what was at first a wide circle the troops gradually closed their lines, forcing the Indians into a narrow ravine, and charging them on all sides until the grip of iron had been completed. In this way the losses on both sides had been serious considering the number engaged. Captain Carter in one charge had thirty-five per cent. of his men placed hors de combat, but I felt positive we had secured the beleaguered Indians in their camp beyond the possibility of escape. I did not, therefore, order a general assault, as I knew it must result in the loss of many valuable lives and possibly might end in a massacre. So I directed the men to hold their

ground, and then, from a high point, watched the fight going on farther down the valley.

As the cavalry charged the camp, a few of the warriors, including White Bird, ran out and secured their horses and fled to the hills. As the battalion of the Second Cavalry swept down the valley they became somewhat separated; Captain Tyler captured some three hundred of the ponies; Lieutenant Jerome, another large bunch; and Lieutenant McClernand, who had swept on still further, finally secured upward of three hundred more some three or four miles down the valley. In moving them back, the small number of Indians who had escaped undertook to rescue the animals, and made several counter attacks, which were all successfully repelled by the brave and judicious acts of McClernand and his men. The ponies were, finally, all gathered up in a secluded valley in the rear of the command, and proved to be eight hundred in number.

That afternoon our train came up under the escort of Captain Brotherton, and this escort, together with the Napoleon gun, was used in strengthening the line then encircling the Indian camp, making escape doubly difficult.

As a result of this desperate encounter I found that the two officers before mentioned and twenty soldiers had been killed. My acting Assistant Adjutant-General George W. Baird, while carrying orders and inspiring the command with his own bravery, was severely wounded, his right arm being broken and part of one ear shot away. Lieutenant Romeyn was injured while leading a charge. Besides, Captains Moylan and Godfrey together with thirty-eight soldiers were wounded.

The Indians occupied a crescent-shaped ravine, and it was apparent that their position could only be forced by a charge or a siege. The first could not be accomplished without too great a sacrifice, while the latter in my judgment would be almost sure to result satisfactorily. My one concern then was whether the Sioux Indians whom I knew to be encamped under Sitting Bull north of the Canadian boundary line, some fifty miles distant, and to whom the few Indians who had been able to escape from the village had fled, might not come to the assistance of the Nez Percés. During the last eight months numbers of disaffected Indians that had been driven out of the valley of the Yellowstone and its tributaries had sought refuge on Canadian soil and joined the large camp of Sitting Bull, thus greatly increasing his force. I afterward learned, however, that when the Nez Percés messengers reached the Camp of Sitting Bull, instead of coming to the assistance of the besieged, the whole camp, numbering between one and

two thousand Indians, who evidently had not forgotten their experiences during the autumn and winter, immediately moved forty miles farther back into the interior of the Canadian territory. Still, as I did not know this fact until several weeks later, I was bound to make provision to meet this large body of Indians should they advance to the assistance of the Nez Percés.

I, therefore, desired that the military authorities should have some intimation of my position, and to that end sent word to General Terry, commanding the department, who was then at Fort Benton, nearly a hundred miles to the west, apprising him of our movements and success. I also sent orders to Colonel Sturgis to move up and join us without delay. He was then a hundred miles to the south and separated from us by the Missouri River. I likewise informed General Howard of our position.

As we were besieging this camp of Indians and holding their large herd of stock in the valley, with our large number of wounded to be cared for, I did not relish the idea of being besieged in our turn by the hostile Sioux, and therefore took every possible precaution to meet such an emergency. We had no interpreters who could talk the Nez Percé language well enough to be of any use, but some of the scouts could speak Chinook, and they called out to the Indians to surrender. Joseph came up under a flag of truce, and from him we learned that the principal chief, Looking Glass, and four other chiefs, had been killed, besides a large number of others killed and wounded. Joseph was informed that they must surrender by bringing up their arms and laying them on the ground. They pretended to do so and brought up a few, which amounted to nothing; but hesitated greatly about surrendering the remainder.

While this was going on I directed Lieutenant Jerome to ascertain what the Indians were doing in the village, supposing that he would go to the edge of the bluff and look down into the camp. Misunderstanding my instructions, he went down into the ravine, whereupon he was seized and held until he was exchanged for Chief Joseph.

It continued to snow during the day, yet the siege was kept up continuously, with a sharp lookout for any force that might come to the assistance of the Nez Percés. On the morning of the third day of the siege the ground was well covered with snow, and the scouts reported a large body of black objects on the distant hills, moving in our direction. This occasioned much excitement among the troops, and every eye was turned to the north, from whence it was feared that Sitting Bull's hostile Sioux and possibly the Assinneboins and Gros Ventres, both of whom were known to be

to the north of us, might be coming to the assistance of the Nez Percés. In fact at one time it was reported that the moving column was a large body of Indians. Every officer's field glass was turned in that direction, and as the long, dark column moved through the mist of the light snow, slowly developing its strength of numbers but not revealing its character, making its way toward us over the distant hills and rolling prairie, I am sure that I watched it with very great anxiety. Considering our condition, with the large herd of captured stock we were holding, and the hostile camp we were besieging, such a formidable reinforcement would of course be a very serious matter, and the thought ran quickly through my mind as to what would be the best disposition to make of the troops in order to hold what we had gained and repel any effort, no matter how strong, to rescue the besieged or overcome our small but very efficient force. I concluded that we could use our artillery and quite a large portion of our troops against any additional enemy and still hold the fruits of the victory already gained. As the mysterious and apparently formidable force drew nearer and nearer, some of the scouts on the extreme outpost shouted "buffalo!" and it was a most gratifying cry. The relief occasioned by this announcement was like that afforded to the mariner by the appearance of a beacon light, or like sunlight bursting through the dark and angry clouds of a storm.

The snow and cold caused great suffering to our wounded, although they were made as comfortable as possible, and while the siege continued, detachments were sent some five miles distant up into the Bear's Paw mountains to get poles with which to make travois and stretchers, knowing that the wounded must soon be transported to the nearest hospital.

On the evening of the 4th of January, General Howard came up with an escort of twelve men, and, remaining in our camp over night, was present next morning at the surrender of Chief Joseph and the entire Indian camp. As Chief Joseph was about to hand his rifle to me he raised his eyes toward the sun which then stood at about ten o'clock, and said, "From where the sun now stands, I fight no more against the white man." From that time to this he has kept his word. Those who surrendered with Chief Joseph and those taken outside the camp numbered more than four hundred. There were killed twenty-six in all, and forty-six were wounded.

The work of securing the arms of the Indians, burying the dead, and preparing the wounded for their long journey occupied the entire remainder of the day, and on the following morning we commenced our slow and difficult march back to the Missouri River, a distance of about sixty-five miles.

During the siege Lieutenant Maus had been sent north with a detachment to, if possible, overtake White Bird and any other Indian that had been able to escape. In this he was to some extent successful, and brought back several. He also brought back the information that when the Indians who had escaped reached the Assinneboin camp, the friendly Assinneboins, instead of coming to the assistance of their beleaguered brethren, killed the two Nez Percés and left their bodies on the prairie.

On our return march, we met Colonel Sturgis' command coming in our

direction. Their services were not required and they were turned back toward the Missouri River.

Several of our wounded died on the way before reaching the Missouri and had to be buried beside the trail. We did the same for the Indian wounded who expired along the way. The exquisite satisfaction that is the result of a complete and valuable victory, thrills the heart of the soldier and fills him with the most delightful sensations that man can enjoy but is changed to the deepest gloom as he witnesses the terrible sacrifices