Bay : He reported that one or two white men would be….

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On the evening of the day the dance ended, Kicking Bird persuaded three-fourths of the tribe to pack up, leave the camp a t the i l l and, under his leader”End of the Mountain,” move to Fort S a n ‘ s way of Me.’ The move was ship, try to take up the white m made, in part to steer away from Lone Wolf’s brewing raid into Texas to avenge the death of his favorite son, Tauankia, who had been shot down by Lieutenant Charles D.

Hudson, leading forty-one U.

S.

Cavalrymen in pursuit of a Kiowa raiding party.

Quitain, a son of Lone Wolf’s brother, Red Otter, was shot and killed by a cavalry man a t the same time.? Lone Wolf, leader of the more adventerous Kiowas, called, “Wild Indians” remained in camp with one-fourth of the people who had refused to move to Fort S i l l .

Young Hunting Horse agreed with Kicking Bird on the question of peace with all men.

Nevertheless, he realized that the Indian was fighting to retain his hunting grounds; for his own way of life and against the extermination of the buffalo, which to the Indian meant death-physically and spiritually.

As a result, he remained in camp with the hostile element.

I n a Pew days, thereafter, he was headeil for Texas under the leadership of Lone Wolf, Red Otter and Maman-ti, the medicine man and owl prophet.

Wild with excitement, the raiders were starting out to avenge the death of Tanankia.

This would be Hunting Horse’s first real raid.

Due to Lone Wolf’s criticism of many of the warriors’ actions in battle, most of them refused to go out on the raid the morning it mas ordered.

However, late in the afternoon, the popular Maman-ti said he was ready to lead.

This sent the raiders shouting and dancing like wild Indians; parading around the encampment.

After dark they seated themselves before Maman-ti’s tepee on top of a hill.

Soon the rustle of wings attracted them.

The eerie cry of a hoot owl followed.

Maman-ti arose and interpreted the hoot: “The revenge raid will be a success.

At least one enemy will he killed.

Not one of us will die.

Everybody get ready now.”8 Immediately the raiders rushed to their tepee and began to put on their war paint and other ragalia.

In the group of around fifty warriors, Lone Wolf selected to go out on the raid under Red Otter and Maman-ti, Hunting Horse was the youngest and greenest.

Most of the others were well seasoned veterans of many a scalping campaign.

Among the experienced ones were: Red Otter, Pago-to-oodle, Mamaday-te, Komalty, ToHauson, Tape-day-ah, Eonah-pah, Ye-ah-hau-tone, Ah-tape-te, Little Chief, Singing Tree and others.9 Carter’s H m Home 3e9 Everyone was ready by midnight.

After traveling miles and m i l e s , they camped on the side of a hill near Seymore.

Maman-ti again consulted the owl.

He reported that one or two white men would be killed; men on gray horses would do the work and the youngest member of the group (Hunting Horse) would receive, a~ his prize, a fine bay horse.

Then he shouted: “That’s all ! Every brave get himself ready before sunrise !” Long before sunrise, Hunting Horse was stripped to the waist and glaring in white clay, streaked with scarlet, armed with a primitive weapon; tugging at the bit of his old gray plug and crazy to head for the Red River.1° Led by Maman-ti, the raiders rode cautiously along a ridge until they ran into a small detachment of well armed Texas Rangers, part of the personal escort of the formidable John B.

Jones, conkmanding the Texas Frontier Battalion.” With the speed and ingenuity of a wild man, Maman-ti thought of a trick scheme-an old Indian decoy-nothing new in strategy.

He ordered his raiders to simulate flight; run to the hillside; drop; lie quiet as desert-wise coyotes and be ready to charge when conditions were right.

The braves scattered like quail.

Acting as bait, Maman-ti and Ad-la-to rode down into the valley below the Rangers, dismounted, and in plain sight of them, commenced leading their horses slowly as if worn out and could not be ridden.

The too-eager Rangers dashed in pursuit and suddenly ran right into the trap.

The revenge warriors jumped to their feet, practically surrounded them and showered them with red-hot arrows.

Since a complete revenge raid demanded that the Indians get two scalps or make two coups (master strokes) and return without losing a man, the raiders had to be careful not to get too close to their enemies.12 So far, no one had been killed.

One Ranger had been knocked off his horse, but not a raider had the courage it took to close in and try to make coup.

Xed Otter got desperate.

He called for volunteers.

Hunting Horse told the writer. “Suddenly the prophet’s promise shot through my mind and when Red Otter ran forward, I dashed after him.

During the fox-and-goose chase that followed, I made coup.

Several rangers were killed but not an Indian had a wound to lick. ” The final outcome was, that, standing before his victorious braves, Lone Wolf declared the revenge complete and called a halt on the raid.

He thanked his puffing followers for what they had done to satisfy his poor son ‘s spirit.

Having praised young Hunting Horse for his gallant daah against oferwhelming odds, he presented him with a fine bay horse that bad lost ita rider.

Then, after singing a few verses of the Victory Song, they monatsd their ponies and headed for home, stiU singing.

Hunting Home did not sing as joyfully as he sang yesterday.

Why? Because this fling a t real warfare was an eye opener to him.

Those bullets whizzing so close to his head had taught him that bows and arrows were no match for rifles.

The warpath was not all fun and excitement.

Aside from this, he was fighting against his better judgment.

He realized that conquering the ever increasing number of white men was like trying to keep the stars from twinkling.

Consequently, due to this thinking and Kicking Bird’s council, the Indian sixth sense (intuition) took over and advised him to act.

He did.

He moved to Fort Sill and joined the pro-white majority of his people.

Later, as a reward for his decision, he was appointed as a member of a group of ten to go and try to persuade Lone Wolf and his hostile faction to surrender.

Lone Wolf, several other leaders and “lesser” warriors soon arrived a t Fort S i l l and surrendered, thereby easing Kiowa resistance-not ending it-to the all-conquering white man.

Among those who surrendered were : Lone Wolf, Big Bow, Gote-bo, San Diego, Gum-bi, Guot-sai, Tapeda-ha, Pohaw-ah, Se-loh and Go-ah-te-bo.ls Filled with hope of a new life promised by General Custer’s recruiting officers, Hunting Horse threw off paint and feathers, enlisted in Custer ‘s famous Seventh Cavalry and donned a scouting uniform.

Later in life, he often related tales-fact and fictionof those turbulent days and nights of scouting when it was his duty to “lay low”; locate the enemy and report to the officer in charge; days and nights when he was changing spots on the crawl right under the enemies nose, bullets whining over his head; times when he was riding all night, tracking like a blood hound on a hot trail and reporting to Custer (“Son-of-the-Morning-Star” to the Indians) after dark.

Then he’d eat buffalo meat and slip into a crevice in a rock or duck down in the tall grass or brush and doze until daylight–snakes and rats permitting.

According to historical records, the young brave was a good scout, dependable, brave and loyal, as the eagle-topped medal of merit awarded him affirmed.

A morning star tattoed on his wrist when he enlisted, twinkled until the end.

Hunting Horse was proud of his record. Old historical files at Fort S i l l , Oklahoma show that Hunting Horse’s Government service ended August 5th, 1875.” The great days over, “Old Man Horse,” as he was affectionately known around Fort Sill, settled down to live a peaceful, happy life.

Al14 Informant, Nyq op.

Cit, p. 297; Old Files, Fort Sill Library.

Colonel Charles F.

Gallaher, Fort Sill, OUI. stated : In a letter to the writer (written by a son) Hunting Horse life went aeelg then, I d d e r the ilrrt Althongh i n the purt hundred &he worot.

Now in modern times, in my old age, I me that life i s better planned out for tomorrow.

Evi sw e l l planned for my future I live thirty m i l e s from Lawton on my U.

S.

Clovernment lanil of 160 acrea The Government i s caring for me now for my eervice in Indian WQrr as a scout for General Cnster.

With a pension of $72.00 a month, all I need do l a carry a little firewood, putter around on my allotment and enjoy the COyear%. A devout Christian since a young man, Hunting Home was a member of the Mt.

Scott Methodist Church of the Indian District of Western Oklahoma.

He waa a religious leader among his peoqle and a youth leader, as well.

The Boy Scouts loved to listen to h m spin yarns about boyhood days.

The local Boy Scout District was named for the’femed Eiowa Scont.16 Respected and consulted by tribesmen, the proud erect, 5 foot 4 Indian lived comfortably in the shadows of the Wichita Mountains during his last years.

With him w a s hb wife, Poetomah, who is now bordering on the century mark herself.

During recent years, a daughter, Mrs.

H i e Ike Johnny, shared the home and cared for the aging couple.

Hunting Horse was the father of three sons and three daughtere, all living with the exception of Monroe, who was a talented internationally known artist.

As an artist, he was Monroe Tsa-To-Kee.

He painted a mural in the Oklahoma University and one in the State Museum, Oklahoma City.

He was one of the two Kiowa artists who decorated the corridor of the Oklahoma State Historical Society Building, with life-sized Indian dancers.

Born in 1906, he died February 3,1956.16 Although seldom heard of when he was an army eye for Custer, Hunting Horse achieved national renown in his later years, when his colorful birthday celebrations became front page newa.

He was on a radio program in his 107th year.

An interpreter misted.

His one hundredth birthday, celebrated January 15, 1946, was a howling success, even if “Old Man Sun” wae sulking above a roaring blizzard.

By noon, one hundred guests had fought their way up the dangerous mountain road-once a rough buffalo trail-to the old scout’s home.

Ten Indian tribes were represented.

Hh sons, daughters, grand children, great and great-great-@andchildren and other relatives and friends were there.

Officers from Fort Sill, state leaders and ministers had fought the blast and had won.

The most unexpected guests was the ninety-four-year-old M r s .

Emma DeKnight Sleeth, Arkansas City, Kansas, a friend of Horse’s when she was a pioneer teacher at Chillocco Indian School.17 Hunting Horse strained his failing eyes through the swirling snow to see the mob-all like brothers; no arms concealed under blankets, as of old.

When the laughing, shouting guests were a few yards from the porch, he leaped toward them with the agility of a young brave, and landed, waist deep, in a soft snowdrift.

Scrambling out, he looked up with a puckered grin as if to say: “Huh! See what I can do!” Then turning his vigorous spirit free, he faced the crowd exploding a gutteral, Kiowa whoop of welcome.

The program was to have been staged in the open, but naturally that was out of the question.

So, all togged out in a replica of the blue and gold uniform he wore when scouting for Custer, the gracious host bowed his guests into his five room house with as much dignity as if it were a palace.

After every corner was crowded, all voices joined in thundering a “Happy Birthday to you !” I t was intended that Hunting Horse would ride a pony, give demonstrations with his bow and arrow, lead the tribal dances and sing Kiowa songs.

Instead, as if he wanted to rub elbows with all guests, he circled around in the rooms using the off beat Indian dance step in time with an old tom-tom some one was beating.

He sang several songs in the Kiowa language as he danced.

Suddenly, his memory unravelling like a long western highway, lured him into a talking spree of by-gone-years-his head and his hands keeping time with his t h o u g h t e a relative interpreting.

He pictured a snorting, wild buffalo he had cornered in a shallow cave during his last hunt with ‘ ‘ Sun-Of-The-Morning-Star. ‘ ‘ His puckered face beamed when he nlentioned General Sheridan, whom he adored.

He chuckled when he told of his old “Side Kick,” General Sherman, “Red Whiskers” to him.

So vivid were his gestures, that his actors were present and the snort of the frantic buffalo could almost be heard.

Dinner announced, the old host gave the Kiowa war hoop, and beckoning his friends to follow, scrambled through the soft snow to the tents where groaning tables were waiting.

The large tents for the celebration had been provided by the War Department.

The Interior Department had presented a buffalo.

Other gifts were too numerous to mention.

Tribal women prepared 17 The Lawton

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