Barton County KS Archives Biographies.....Gibson, Jim 
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Joy Fisher sdgenweb@gmail.com November 13, 2005, 12:13 pm

Author: Inman

JIM GIBSON'S THRILLING EXPERIENCE 
From Inman's Tales of the Trail

IT was old Jim Gibson—poor fellow—he went under in a fight with the Utes over
twenty years ago, and his bones are bleaching somewhere in the dark canyons of
the range, or on the slopes of the Spanish Peaks. He used to tell of a skirmish
he and another fellow had on the Arkansas with the Kiowas in 1836. Jim and his
partner, Bill— other name unknown—had been trapping up in the Powder river
country during the winter, with unusual good luck. The beaver were mighty thick
in the whole Yellowstone region, in those days. Jim and Bill got an early start
on their journey for the river in the early spring. You see they expected to
sell their stuff in western Missouri, which was the principal trading point on
the river then. They walked the whole distance—over fifteen hundred
miles—driving three good mules before them, on which their plunder was packed,
and they got along well until they struck the Arkansas river at Pawnee Rock.
Here they met a war party of about sixty Kiowas, who treed them on the Rock. Jim
and Bill were brave and dead shots.

   "Before they reached the Rock to which they were driven they killed ten of
the Kiowas, and had not received a scratch. They had plenty of powder and two
pouches full Of bullets. They also had a couple of Jack rabbits for food in case
of siege, and the perpendicular walls of the Rock made them a natural
fortification, and one that was almost impregnable. They succeeded in securely
picketing their animals on the west side of the Rock, where they could protect
them by their unerring rifles, but the story of the fight must be told in Jim's
own way. He was a pretty well educated fellow and had been to college. I believe
in his younger days he lost the girl he was going to marry, or had some bad luck
or other and took to the prairie when he was about twenty years of age. I will
try to tell it as near as possible as he told it to me.

[drawing] O-Ton-Sone-Var, Chief of Kiowas

[photo] WM. F. CODY. (Buffalo Bill) He Scouted This Country for the U. S. A.

   "After the derned red cusses had treed us, they picked up their dead and
packed them to their camp, at the mouth of the creek a little piece off. In a
few minutes, back they all came, mounted with their fixings and war paint on.
Then, they commenced to circle around us coming closer, Indian fashion every
time, until they got within easy rifle range, when they slung themselves on the
far sides of their ponies and in that position opened on us. Their arrows fell
like a hail storm around us for a few minutes, but as good luck would have it
none of them struck. I was afraid that first of all they would attempt to kill
our mules, but I suppose they thought they had the dead wood on us and the mules
would come mighty handy for their own use, after ,our scalps were dangling at
their belts. We were taking in all the chances and whenever we saw a leg or head
we would draw a bead on it and would tumble its owner over every time, with a
yell of rage. Whenever they attempted to carry off their dead, that was the
moment we took the advantage, and we poured it into them as they rallied for
that purpose, with telling effect We wasted no shots, and we now had only about
twenty bullets between us, and the miserable cusses seemed as thick as ever. The
sun was nearly down by this time, and at dark they did not seem anxious to renew
fight. I could see their mounted patrols at a respectful distance watching to
prevent our escape. I took advantage of the darkness to go down and get a few
buffalo chips to cook our supper as we were mighty hungry, and we changed the
animals to where they could get a little more grass. I got to our camp on top
without any trouble, when we made a little fire and cooked a rabbit. We had to
go without water and so did the animals, though we did not mind the want of it
ourselves. We pitied the mules which had had no water since we broke camp that
morning. It was no use to worry about it as the nearest water was the spring at
the Indians' camp, and it would be certain death to attempt to get there. I was
afraid the red devils would fire the prairie the next morning, and endeavor to
burn us out. The grass was in a condition to make a lively blaze. We might
escape the flames and we might not We watched with eager eyes the first gray
streaks of dawn, that would usher in another day. Perhaps the last one for us.
The next morning the sun had scarcely got above the horizon when, with an
infernal yell the Indians broke for the Rock and we knew that some new idea had
entered into their heads. The wind was springing up fresh and nature seemed to
conspire with the red devils if they really meant to burn us out, and I had no
doubt from their movements that that was what they intended doing. The darned
cusses kept at such a respectful distance from our rifles that it chafed us to
know that we could not stop the infernal throats of some of them with our
bullets. We had to choke our rage and watch events closely. I took occasion
during the lull in hostilities to crawl down to where the mules were and shift
them to the east side of the Rock where the wall was the highest, so that the
flames of the smoke might possibly pass by them without so much danger as on the
exposed other side. I succeeded in doing this and also in tearing away the grass
for several yards around the animals, and was just starting back when Bill
called out, "They have fired the prairie." I reached the top of the rock in a
moment and took in at a glance what was coming. The spectacle for a short
interval was indescribable. The sun was shining with all its power on a huge
cloud of smoke as it rolled down from the north. I had barely time to get under
the shelter of the Rock when the wind and smoke swept down to the ground and
incidentally we were enveloped in the darkness of midnight. We could not see a
single object, neither Indian, horses, prairie or sun and what a terrible wind.
I have never experienced its equal in violence since. We stood breathless,
clinging to the mass of rock and did not realize that the fire was so near until
we were struck in the face by the burning buffalo chips that were carried
towards us with the rapidity of the wind. I was really scared as it seemed we
must suffocate, but we were saved, the sheet of flame passed us twenty yards
away, as the wind fortunately shifted when the fire reached the Rock. Yet the
darkness was so perfect that we did not see the flames.

We only knew that we were safe as the clear sky greeted us behind the dense
cloud of smoke. Two of the Indians and their horses were caught in their own
trap and perished miserably. They had attempted to reach the east side of the
Rock where the mules were, either to cut them loose or crawl up on us while we
were bewildered in the smoke. They had proceeded only a few yards when the
terrible darkness of the smoke cloud overtook them. The fire assumed such
gigantic proportions and moved with such rapidity before the terrible wind that
even the Arkansas river did not stop it for a moment, and we watched it carried
across the water.

   "My first thought after the danger had passed was of the poor mules. I
crawled down to where they were and found them badly singed. They were not
seriously injured however, and thought so far so good. Our traps and things were
all right so we took courage and began to think that we could get out of the
nasty scrape. In the meantime the Indians with the exception of four or five,
left to guard the Rock, had gone back to their camp on the creek, and were
evidently concocting some new scheme to capture or kill us. We waited patiently
for two or three hours for the development of events, snatching a little sleep
by turns until the sun was about four hours high, when the Indians commenced
their yelling again, and we knew they had it upon something, so we were on the
alert The devils this time had tied all their horses together, covered them with
branches, of trees that they had cut on the creek, packed all the lodge skins on
these and then driving the living breast works towards us themselves followed
close behind on foot. They kept moving in the direction of the Rock and matters
began to look serious.

   "Bill put his hand in mine and said, "Jim boy, we got to fight, we aint done
nothin' yet, but this means business." I said, 'Bill, you are right, old fellow,
but they cannot get us alive. Our plan was to kill their ponies and make them
halt As I spoke, Bill, who was one of the best shots on the plains, threw his
eye along the barrel of his rifle and one of the ponies tumbled over in the
blackened sod One of the Indians ran out to cut him loose, as I suspected, and I
took him clean off his feet without a groan. Quicker than it takes to tell it we
stretched out twelve of them on the plains and then they began a council of war.
We watched the devils' movements for we knew they would soon be busy again. The
others did not make their appearance immediately from behind their living
breastworks, so we fired and killed some of the horses. The Indians drew away
and after holding a consultation we saw one of their number approaching. He held
aloft a part of his white blanket, in token of peace. He came within hearing and
asked us to talk with him. We answered yes. We could expect very little and were
surprised at the proposition made to us. He came nearer and said the war chief
leading them was old O'Ton-Sone-Var and "wants you to come to their camp, and
the tribe will adopt you as you are brave men." He also added that they were on
their way to the Sioux country north of the Platte and were going there to steal
horses from the Sioux. They expected a fight and wanted us to help them. , Bill
and I knew them too well to swallow their chaff so we told him we could not
think of accepting their terms. We told him to go back and tell his chief to
begin the fight again as soon as they pleased. He started back and before he had
reached the creek they came out and met him, had a confab and then began the
attack on us at once. We made each of our four leads tell and then stood at bay
almost helpless. We were at their mercy. We began throwing stones and held them
off for a short time. Then another white flag appeared and they wanted to talk
some more.

  "We knew that we must accept most anything they offered. One of their number
spoke and told us that the Kiowas were not prisoners and they know brave men.
'We will not kill you, though the grass is red with the blood of our warriors
who died at your hands. We will give you a chance for your lives and let you
prove that the Great Spirit of the white man is powerful and can save you.'
'Behold,' said the Indian pointing to a cottonwood tree that stood on the bank
of the river, a mile or more away. 'You must go there, and one of you shall run
the knife gauntlet from that tree two hundred steps of the chief towards the
prairie. If the one who runs escapes both are free, for the Great Spirit has
willed it. O'Ton-Sone-Var has- said it and the word of the Kiowa is true.' 'When
must the trial take place," said I. "When the sun begins to shine upon the
western edge of the Rock,' replied the Indian. 'Say to your chief we will accept
the challenge and will be ready," said Bill, motioning the warrior away.

  " 'I am sure I can win, said Bill and can save our lives, O'Ton-Sone-Var will
keep his word.' 'I know him.' 'Bill, said I,' 'I shall run that race' and taking
him by the hand I told him that if he saw I was going to fail to watch his
chance and in the excitement of the moment mount one of their horses and fly to
Bent's Fort. He could escape. He was young, it made no difference with my life
as it was not worth much, but he had all before him. 'No,' replied Bill, 'my
heart is set en this. I traveled the same race once before when the Apaches got
me, and their knives never struck me once. I asked this favor for I know how to
take advantage of them and can win.' The sun had scarcely gilded that portion of
the Rock that puts out toward the west before all the warriors with
O'Ton-Sone-Var ar their head marched silently towards the tree and beckoned us
to come. We soon were beside them when they opened a space and we walked in
their center without saying a word. There were only thirty left of the band of
warriors. The Indians were worked up to an awful pitch and wanted to avenge
their dead but the chief kept them from it. As soon as we reached the tree, the
chief paced the two-hundred steps and arranged his warriors on either side who
in a moment stripped themselves to the waist and each seizing his long scalping
knife and bracing himself held it high over his head so as to strike a hard
blow. The question of who should be their victims was settled immediately, for
as I stepped forward, the chief signalled me back and pointing to Bill told him
he should make the trial. I protested but the chief was firm. The two rows of
savages stood firm, their knives held high with vengeance gleaming in their
eyes. It looked almost hopeless. It was truly a race for life. As Bill prepared
himself I wished ourselves back on the Rock. Bill was cool and collected and had
a perfect faith in the result The chief motioned Bill to start Bill tightened
his belt and looked down the double row of Indians with their upheld knives. It
seemed an age to me and when Bill started I was forced by an irresistible power
to look upon the scene. At the instant Bill darted like a streak of lightning
from the base of the tree and cutting at poor Bill the Indians tried their
hardest to kill him. Bill evaded their efforts. He tossed savages here and there
and now creeping like a snake he squirmed through the lines for a distance, then
leaping like a wild-cat he passed more of the red men who were bent on taking
his life and finally he reached the place where the chief stood and passed
through the terrible ordeal unharmed. I threw myself into his arms and gave
thanks. The chief motioned the warriors away and with sullen footsteps followed
them. In a few moments we retraced our way to the Rock where our mules still
were. We then passed on in the direction of the Missouri. We camped on the banks
of the river that night only a few miles from the Rock and while we were resting
we could still hear the Kiowas chanting the death song as they buried their lost
warriors under the sod of the prairie."



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Biographical History Of Barton County

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