THE INDIAN RAID OF '55 - PART I

In 1902, Ambrose A. Call wrote a series of articles for the Upper Des Moines Republican recounting his experiences with Indians in the early days of the settlement.  The story of the raid on the Maxwell cabin was part of his story and B. F. Reed later included it in the "History of Kossuth County" which was published in 1913 and also in Harvey Ingham's book "Old Indian Days" published in the 1920's.  However, there was so much more to his account than what was chronicled in either book. I was fascinated to read the entire series -- particularly his description of his meeting with Inkpadutah in his teepee.  Over the next several weeks, I want to share these articles with with you.  We begin today with his introduction and a portion of the Maxwell story.

A Memoir of the Incursion of the Yanktonaas

By HON. AMBROSE A. CALL

        To The Editor—In compliance with my various promises I will undertake to write of some of the events in the early history of Kossuth county, the story of which has never been published.

        We are approaching the half century mile post that marks the time since the first settlers reared their cabins and contended with the savage Sioux for their possession.  The old timers, our old friends, are rapidly passing away and will soon all be gone, and the history of those first trials and struggles will be irretrievably lost unless a record be made of them before it is too late.  The history of our county should not only be written but it should be true.  Our records should be kept straight.  Those who know it should write it.

        One very much dislikes to write of himself or of events in which he took a prominent part, but when it is desirable to keep a true history and there is no one else to write it for him, possibly he may be justified in doing it himself.  Before I begin to tell my Indian stories I wish to correct a mistake which might later be taken as true and get into the history of the county.  Some friend recently sent me a publication from Belmond, Wright county, in which a lady, the daughter of one Mr. Hunt, I believe, states in a very interesting article that her father and one Mr. Overacker explored the country west and made claims in 1853 where the city of Algona and also Spirit Lake now stand.  She says further that they intended to return and hold them, but upon their return heard of the Indian troubles around Clear Lake and the killing of Captain Hewett’s Winnebago boy and were deterred through fear of the Indians.  By reference to history it will be seen that the Indian trouble spoken of occurred in July, 1854, and their return was subsequent to that event.  I have on the margin of an old book this notation:  “July 28^th, I find upon my return two parties, named Overacker and Hunt, have, during my absence, marked out timber claims on sections 11 and 12, south of Asa’s claim.”  No one made claims in Kossuth county prior to the settlement made by my brother and myself.

        For the two years prior to my coming to Kossuth county I spent most of my time on the upper Mississippi river around St. Paul and Fort Snelling and on the tributaries of the Saint Croix river; a part of the time among the Indians, Sioux and Chippewas; and I learned a great deal of the Indian sign language and quite a few words both of Chippewa and Sioux.  The sign language is identically the same with all the tribes east of the Rocky mountains, but their word language is very different.  In the same tribe each individual has his own pronunciation.  A buffalo is a “titonka,” or “tionka,” or “tetonka,” as you find your Indian. 

        “Titonka” also means a cow or ox or most anything big; a big white man is at once saluted as “titonka wasecha;” so with an elk, he is an “humpa” or “umpa” or “impah,” a moccasin or mitten or any other thing leather is also called “umpah.”  They have no written language to hold them to a uniform pronunciation, and besides have all manner of defects in their speech, with usually a lazy grunt at the end of every word.

        In the early part of July, 1855, a large party of Sioux Indians, some forty tepees including the chief, Inkpadutah, came into the settlement, the same party that created the panic and stampede on the head waters of the Cedar, and came near capturing his excellency, Gov. Hempstead, the year before, and who in 1856 terrorized the settlers on the little Sioux, culminating their deviltry by the Spirit Lake massacre in March, 1857.  This band of Indians came into the settlement from the west and pitched their tepees on section 24, near Mark Parsons’ present residence.  My first intimation of their presence was rather startling.  My cabin door was open.  I had just eaten a bachelor’s dinner and was lying down reading the Missouri Republican, which Maxwell had brought me from Ft. Dodge, when a ringing war whoop saluted my ears.  I sprang to the middle of the room, seizing my gun, but was met by a big guffaw from a burly Indian who instantly stood his gun against the wall and held out his hand with a “How, how.”  Of course he considered it only a joke.  I was not quite so sure of it, but shook his hand and said “How.”  A squaw tagged along after him with a few moccasins to trade.  My rifle was a large one, carrying an ounce ball, and the Indian, noticing the caliber, pulled a crude ball pounded out of a bar of lead and measured it in my gun.  He asked to see one of my bullets, and when he found it just fitted his shot gun he was much pleased and proposed at once:  “How swap for umpah?”  I found two pairs of moccasins which fitted me, for which I gave him ten bullets.  He told me he would return with more, which he did, and I traded for enough to last me a year or more.

        I inquired of my visitor how many tepees there were and he opened both hands four times, indicating forty, and then pointed the direction.  After he left I visited the village, near Barney Holland’s cabin.  Some of the neighbors were there and they were having some contention, as the Indians had turned their ponies in Holland’s corn, had taken Holland’s large grindstone to the center of their village and set Holland to turning it, and as many as could get around it were grinding their tomahawks and knives.  The perspiration was pouring from Holland’s face and he seemed very tired.  With the others I insisted upon their turning their ponies out of the corn and also made Holland quit turning the grindstone.  We came near having an open rupture with them, as they were very surly and stubborn, but finally the squaws turned the ponies out of the corn and the bucks installed one of their own number at the stone.  The next day they scattered through the settlement, visiting every cabin.  Some they plundered, but where they found white men in sufficient force to resist they merely begged for something to eat.  Two tepees were pitched near my brother’s cabin, on the hill just west of the power house, and it was the occupants of these tepees who frightened Mrs. Call, the story of which she wrote for the reading circle in 1872, and the sequel to which Mrs. Blackford wrote for the Advance.  Of course my brother’s family was in no danger from two Indians, as he had four or five hired men boarding with him all the time.

        The evening of the second day Mr. Maxwell came to my cabin, seemingly somewhat alarmed, and told me that three Indians had just left his cabin, that they were sullen and saucy, took what they pleased and that he dared not resist them on account of his wife and children, and asked me to come down and stay with him.  I had made my home for some time with Mr. Maxwell and knew him to be a courageous man, not to be frightened without cause.  He had recently returned from Boonesboro with a large load of provisions and supplies which would naturally tempt the cupidity of the Indians.  I promised Maxwell I would come down early in the morning.  The Indians made all their raids in the day time.  I consequently started early without my breakfast but found the Indians were there before me, as they were already swarming inside when I arrived. There were eleven lusty young fellows, each armed with a double barreled shotgun, cocked and loaded with ball, also tomahawk and knife.  They had the house turned inside out, so to speak, when I got inside.  Mrs. Maxwell had a boarder named Craw, who was one of those nice, peaceable men, and who believed it an evidence of cowardice to carry a gun or other weapon of defense; he never did.  Well I found Craw sitting in a chair, his face as white as a sheet, suffering every imaginable indignity from the young bucks.  They had pilfered his pockets and unbuttoned his clothes, were pulling his nose, ears and hair, occasionally slapping him on the side of the head, and nearly knocking him to the floor.  He didn’t dare to move; he was paralyzed with fear.  I said to him:  “Craw, for God’s sake run if you can’t fight,” and Maxwell told him to get out of there and make for the brush.  After a short time I noticed his chair was empty, so he must have got out in some way.  Maxwell told me he had but two chambers of his revolver loaded and asked me to stand in front of him while he loaded the remainder.  He stepped behind the door and I stood in front and, although his revolver was an old fashioned Colts which loaded with powder and ball he did it very quickly, without being seen.  As I came out from behind the door a big young Indian who seemed to be leader noticed a two bushel bag of corn meal and started to drag it to the door.  I thought the time had come to take a hand, if we intended to resist at all, so I sprang and took hold of the sack, telling him to stop, but with a defiant grunt he jerked it out of my hand.  At this I grabbed the bag with my left hand and with my right caught him under the chin, and as we were standing quite near the doorway he went out violently, clutching the door as he went, nearly pulling shut and striking on the back of his head.  I stood the sack up against the wall and stood beside it, Maxwell, with his revolver in his hand, standing beside me.  An ominous silence came over the cabin when the Indian went out doors but presently one who if not a chief was spokesman for the crowd, pulled his tomahawk out of his belt and advanced toward me, asking me to feel the edge of it.  I snatched it from him and stuck it in his belt.  Again he drew it out and held it toward me and again I snatched it from him and stuck it behind his belt.  He then in a loud, menacing voice told me they would “nepo squaw and papooses” (kill the women and children).  In an equally loud voice and with some emphatic profanity—Indians mostly understand that—I told him as well as I could that if he undertook it we would “nepo” every damned Sioux in the cabin.  He then scoffed at the idea and counted two “wasechas.”  Then holding two hands high over his head he opened them many times, saying:  “Sioux!  Sioux!”

        In those days, when the Indians wished to terrorize the whites they called themselves Sioux, but at other times they were “Yanktonaas.”  Notwithstanding the Indian’s loaded talk and brave actions he backed off and subsided when he noticed Maxwell’s fingers playing nervously around the trigger of his revolver.  I think Maxwell understood what the Indian meant when he threatened to “nepo” the squaw and papooses, and Mrs. Maxwell understood a part of it, for Maxwell said that we must get Eliza and the children out if we could, but he was afraid they would follow her.  I asked him if he did not think he could get their attention away from the door by giving them something to eat, to which he replied that they day before they had boiled up a mess of corn meal, pork and molasses and that he would try them on that.  So he put the stove boiler on the stove, filled it half full of water and gave them a part of a bag of meal, some bacon and a jug of molasses.  The young bucks at once began to build a fire and stir in the stuff and soon got to quarreling over it, in which quarrel the others, who had been sulking, took a hand.  I told Mrs. Maxwell that when Mr. Maxwell gave the sign to slip out, get into the woods and run for Brown’s and tell John to run his horse over and tell Asa and the boys we were having trouble at Maxwell’s cabin.

        We watched our opportunity, and when the Indians were all busy with their mush Maxwell partly closed the door.  He and I stood between it and the Indians and Mrs. Maxwell slipped out and got away without being noticed.  The Indians continued to quarrel and fuss over their mush and Maxwell delayed them as much as possible.  They couldn’t make the fire burn well and the water refused to boil.  They set their guns up beside the door and turned their whole attention to their breakfast, occasionally one of them running and looking out of the door. 

        After the lapse of about an hour their mush was done satisfactorily but was so hot they could not eat it.  One of them looked out of the door towards the west and cried out “Wasecha!  Wasecha!” others ran and looked out and returned in much excitement, making a rush.


Stay tuned for the second chapter of "The Indian Raid of '55" which will be brought to you next week.

Until next time,

KC History Buff

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