INDIANS EAT A MAN ALIVE

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Published November 17th, 2014 by Unknown

[From J. Marvin Hunter’s Frontier Times Magazine, May, 1950]

Jim McIntyre, an ex-Texas Ranger, wrote an interesting account of the famous Loss Valley fight, which appeared in a book, "Early Days in Texas," published some thirty-five years ago. This fight took place in July, 1874, shortly after the battle of Adobe Walls, where the Indians were led by Quanah Parker, Comanche chief, and Lone Wolf, a Kiowa chief. After the Adobe Walls fight, Lone Wolf and a band of warriors, Comanches, Kiowas and Apaches, went down into Young county on a raid. Major John B. Jones and Captain Stephens company and others, numbering about thirty-seven men, followed the Indians to Loss Valley, near the line of Young and Jack counties, where the Rangers were ambushed by the Indians, who were hidden in the woods and behind boulders. McIntyre tells of the desperate fight as follows:

"From Fort Jackson I went to Fort Griffin and sold my buffalo hunting outfit. From there I went to Loving's ranch in the Big Loss Valley, where I learned a big company of Texas Rangers, under Captain Hamilton, was camped. Ranger life looked pretty good to me, as there was $40 per month in it, and plenty of plunder. So I applied to Captain Hamilton for admission into his company and, as I was a large, stout, able-bodied man, with a good gun and a good horse, he was glad to accept me. The Rangers were camped in the valley near the ranch and were scouring the country for Indians.

"There was always something doing with the Rangers and we kept the Indians busy keeping out of our way. One day we started out for a scouting trip up the Wichita, and struck a fresh trail. The band numbered thirty-five, and they had evidently just come in from the reservation. We took up the trail and followed it all day. At dark we stopped to rest our horses and eat a lunch, and after a short rest we saddled up and took the trail again. The grass was tall and damp and we could follow the trail as well at night as by day. We were in the saddle all night, and by twelve o'clock the next day reached Cox Mountains, where a great massacre had occurred about eighteen months before, when a government supply train on the way to Fort Griffin, in charge of a detachment of soldiers, was attacked by the Indians and only one man escaped, the rest being massacred and the wagons burned. The trail led up the side of the mountains and we began the ascent. When we were about halfway up we saw two Indians looking toward us. They wore red blankets, and acted as if they had not seen us until they came within 300 yards of our party. Then they suddenly looked up, and turned quickly and ran for a big gap in the mountains, which narrowed down to a cow trail just wide enough for one cow to pass. The Indians played their part well, and though we suspected it was a ruse to lead us into a trap, we knew there were only thirty-five in the band we were following, and did not fear that number, so we gave chase. There were twenty-nine men in our party, including Adj. Gen. Jones of Texas, and Tom Wilson, sheriff of Palo Pinto county. We pulled right in after the two Indians, following the trail until we came to a big wash-out which had formed a basin. In this basin was concealed two hundred Indians, under the leadership of Big Tree and Satanta, where we expected to find only thirty-five. We rode up to within 150 yards of them before we discovered that the original band had joined another and larger bunch. We had just discovered their presence when they opened fire, and eleven of our horses went down and three men were wounded One had his left arm shot away, another was wounded in the leg, and a third received a shot in the back. We charged the Indians and succeeded in stampeding them, much to the consternation of the two big chiefs, who ran in front of them waving their blankets in an endeavor to stop the band. When they got about 500 yards away, Big Tree and Satanta, who had taken in the situation at a glance and knew they had a tremendous advantage over us with eleven of our horses gone, stopped the stampede. We fully realized the trouble we had gotten into when Satanta and Big Tree had their men lined up again, so we sought cover in a deep ditch, formed by washouts, which ran through a grove of big oak trees. We tied our horses and brought Billy Glass, who was wounded in the back, and the fellow (George Moore) who was wounded in the leg, into the ravine with us to keep them from being scalped. John Cone, whose arm was badly shot up, ran to a creek and dived into a water pool to hide. Tom Wilson was cut off from joining us, and took position behind a big oak tree. Another one of the boys, who had emptied his gun into the advancing Indians, was cut off too, and he started down the creek with two Indians after him. He snapped his gun at them time after time in an effort to check their pursuit, but they followed right after him with drawn lances, until he came to the water-hole where Cone was hiding, when he threw his gun at the Indians and leaped into the pool. Cone, thinking he was an Indian, took a shot at him, but missed, and the Indians gave up the fight and joined the main band.

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"The Indians rode pell-mell right up to the ditch, and jumped their horses over our heads. This was our opportunity, and we made the best of it, shooting them as fast as we could fire while they were jumping the ditch. After they had all crossed, we had thirty or forty of the number down. Some were in the ditch, and some fell just after they crossed. It taught them a lesson in regard to charging us, so they withdrew to a small rocky peak about three hundred yards distant from the top of which they could pick off every one in the ditch at the point where we were located. We moved farther down, to a more protected location and they kept up a steady fire from the top of the peak, in a vain effort to dislodge us. Sheriff Wilson, who still held his position behind the oak tree, tried several times to join us, but every time he would stick his head out a bullet from an Indian rifle would clip bark too close for comfort.

"In order to keep the Indians busy we would push our hats up on the bank, and they would shoot them off instantly.

"Billy Glass soon began to suffer for water, and, as he was mortally wounded, Dave Bailey and Knox Glass, a brother of the wounded man, volunteered to go to the creek and get it. It was all a man's life was worth to show his head, let alone go for water, but as they rode racing horses, they stood a better show than the rest of the boys. The nearest point in the stream where they had to go for water was about three hundred yards distant, and the peak where the Indians had taken up their position was about the same distance, only a little further up. Bailey and Knox Glass took their canteens, and made a run for the trees where we had our horses tied. They reached their fleet-footed racers, and reached the creek in double-quick time. The Indians, seeing their move, started to cut off their retreat, and we kept up a steady fire on the leaders to hold them back. Bailey was down by the water's edge and succeeded in filling two canteens before the Indians got a good start. Glass, seeing that they would have to hurry to keep from being cut off, said: 'Come on, Dave; they are coming and will cut us off.' 'No, I will fill this one, if they catch me,' was Bailey's reply. He did fill it, and mounted his horse. Glass was off like a flash, and made the ditch where we were entrenched easily, but Bailey failed to take advantage of his horse's fleetness, and was the victim of the most horrible butchery I ever witnessed.

"Instead of letting his horse out, as Glass did, Bailey seemed confused and held him in. His horse was exceptionally fast, and, was the bad start, he had a chance to make it; but he did not head straight for the ditch, and in a few seconds the Indians had him cut off. They closed in on him, driving him around in a circle, all the time shooting arrows into him and yelling with fiendish glee. We were powerless to come to his rescue, as the only way we could cope with such a large body of Indians was by fighting them from cover. Our ammunition was running low, and only eighty rounds of cartridges remained, when the adjutant general ordered us to cease firing. He saw that saving Bailey was out of the question, and it was absolutely necessary that we reserve our ammunition in the event of a charge from the main body of Indians, which was likely to take place at any time.

"After shooting seventeen arrows into Bailey's back, they rode up and pulled him from his horse. Then we were compelled to witness the most revolting sight of our lives. They held Bailey up in full view, and cut him up, and ate him alive. They started by cutting off his nose and ears, then hands and arms. As fast as a piece was cut off they would grab it and eat it ravenously as the most voracious wild beast.

"We were all hardened to rough life, and daily witnessed scenes that would make a 'tenderfoot's' blood run cold; but to see Dave Bailey die by inches and eaten piece-meal by the blood-thirsty Comanches and Kiowas made our hearts quail. We could see the blood running from their mouths as they munched the still quivering flesh. They would bat their eyes and lick their mouths after each mouthful. The effect of the disgusting movements on us was but to increase our desire for revenge, and we often had it later on. After eating all the fleshy parts of our brave comrade, they left him lying where they had captured him and returned to the peak. The Indians remained on the peak or behind it until dark, and we spent the rest of the afternoon in the ditch, but keeping a good lookout. We had ceased firing, as Adjt. Gen. Jones' orders were not to fire until they were within fifty yards of us, so we could secure the ammunition of the dead or wounded Indians. However, none came near, but there were plenty of dead ones on all sides, that we had killed before our ammunition ran low.

"Along in the evening Billy Glass died, the Indian bullet having penetrated his stomach and lungs. About 8 o'clock we took the remains of Glass and struck out for Fort Jackson, twenty miles away, to get reinforcements from the soldiers quartered there. As soon as we were well on the road, and felt safe from pursuit, we dug a grave and buried Glass."