“Going back to the morning of August 24, 1877, when Chief Joseph and his people arrived at the Lower Geyer Basin, we will record the experiences of the two parties of tourist... The party from Radersburg, Montana, was composed of the following persons: George F. Cowan and wife, Frank and Ida Carpenter, brother and sister of Mrs. Cowan, Charles Mann, William Dingee, Albert Olham, A.J. Arnold, and a Mr. Meyers. The party was to start home this morning and Arnold and Dingee had arisen before sunrise to make a fire and prepare breakfast. Soon after, Mrs. Cowan arose her husband and told him there were Indians outside.

“By this time the Indians had collected in large numbers and Cowan became thoroughly alarmed. He ordered the teams hitched up and camp to be broken at once. Everything was soon ready. There was a double-seated covered spring wagon, and a half spring baggage wagon. Such of the party as could not find seats in the wagons rode saddle horses.

“Cowan ordered the drivers to pull out, and he himself mounted his horse and rode alongside the wagon in which his wife was seated. The two women were crying, for the situation seemed to them hopeless. The start was made, the little stream crossed, when the wagons came to an abrupt stop. Directly in front, completely blocking the way, was a line of mounted warriors, like a platoon of cavalry, with guns against thigh as if ready for action.

“Here, then, was the situation. Cowan was ‘up against’ Chief Joseph himself, and Looking Glass and the whole Nez Perce army. Joseph was painted in vermillion, but Looking Glass was not. Joseph was the better looking man of the two. Cowan did not hesitate, but carried his petition promptly and unfalteringly to the throne itself. Joseph looked him straight in the eye, but never deigned a word. Charley (an Indian) then came up and said to Cowan: ‘Look here, now; we’re going to take your party right along.’ Cowan protested, but Charley made no reply except to order the party to move on.

“Forced to accompany the army of Chief Joseph, the hapless party felt that their hopes of escape were slender and that they would all be massacred at the first available opportunity. They were wretchedly armed and could offer no effective resistance. They moved on up the valley of Nez Perce Creek, and when about a mile and a half above the present bridge were stopped by the timber. Charley ordered the wagons abandoned, and the passengers to mount the horses. The provisions were all confiscated and the spokes cut out of the wheels of the spring wagon. Charley rushed matters and in a little while the party were on their way again.

“Nothing of importance transpired on the march up Nez Perce Creek, and the noon camp of the Indians was reached in a beautiful spot in the edge of the timber at the foot of Mary Mountain. Here the party were ordered to dismount. Off a little to one side were the squaws preparing something to eat. The chiefs and some other principle men were seated in half circle in a lovely little grass covered opening among the trees and it was evident that a council was to be held to decide the fate of the whites. In fact, the council commenced at once, an Indian by the name of Poker Joe acting as spokesman for the chiefs, who could not speak English. Cowan answered for his party.

“Poker Joe opened up by asking several questions about where the tourists were from, the purpose of their visit, and where they desired to go. The chiefs had decided to take the horses and firearms of the party, and give them broken down horses and let them go home. This was their only salvation; otherwise all would be killed. To this deliberate ultimatum there was evidently only one reply, acceptance. Resistance was out of the question. The proposition of the chiefs gave at least a hope, slender though it was, and after consultation with his people, Cowan gave his consent.

“The council at once broke up and the Indians made a rush for the confiscated outfit. The whole camp then moved up the trail. Poker Joe told the captives that they were free and directed them to take the back trail. They started back entirely alone. To this time they had not suffered the slightest indignity from the Indians.

“After retreating some three quarters of a mile, a force of about seventy-five Indians came galloping back uttering war hoops, and evidently bent on mischief. They ordered the little party to stop, and Charley (who again appears on the scene) asked, in apparent anger, what had become of the two men who had discreetly taken to the bush. Cowan replied that he did not know before that they were gone. After a little delay the party were countermarched and taken back up the trail. It was evident their situation was now desperate. An occasional stop was made to give the Indians time for consultation. The party proceeded back past the council ground and perhaps three-quarters of a mile beyond when two Indians were sent on in great haste, with the probable purpose of finding out if the chiefs were at a safe distance ahead. A few minutes later as the party were passing over a little knoll, these two Indians came riding back at full speed. Seeing the party, they stopped, and one of the Indians fired at Mr. Cowan, striking him in the right thigh. The firing then became general and most of the whites scattered in the woods. Carpenter and his two sisters were taken prisoners. Carpenter’s life was saved by an involuntary act which has won for him the undeserved credit of showing great presence of mind. An Indian leveled a gun at him, when Carpenter, believing that his time had come, made a sign of the cross. The religious nature of the Indian instantly responded to the familiar movement, and he dropped his gun and told Carpenter that he would save him.

“When Cowan was shot, he slid from his horse, but his leg was paralyzed and he fell upon the steep side hill and rolled down against a log. Mrs. Cowan instantly leaped from her horse, ran to her husband’s side, enveloped his head in her arms, and tried to baffle the efforts of the Indians to kill him. The Indians endeavored to pull her away, but she resisted strenuously, begging them to kill her instead. Cowan himself held her fast to her, preferring that she be killed there with him than be left to the mercy of the savages. Charley then came up, asked where Cowan’s wound was, and seeing that it was not fatal, made a desperate effort to get a shot at his head, but Mrs. Cowan was too alert for him. Finally, Charley drew Mrs. Cowan back and another Indian held a pistol almost to Cowan’s eyes and fired. Mrs. Cowan was pulled away, and with her brother and her sister was taken along with the Indians. Some stones were thrown upon Cowan’s head, and he was then left for dead.

“Singularly enough, neither the bullet wounds nor the blows from the stones had been fatal to Mr. Cowan and he presently recovered consciousness. The attack had taken place about 2:30 PM, and when he opened his eyes the sun was just dropping below the western hills. He recalled what had happened, examined himself, made up his mind that there was hope yet, and concluded to save himself if he could. He drew himself up by a branch of a tree, when lo! a little way off, he saw a mounted Indian in the act of drawing his rifle to fire at him. Cowan tried to get away, but the Indian dismounted and fired and struck him in the back. He fell to the ground and momentarily expected the Indian to come up and dispatch him, but for some reason he did not come. 

“After waiting awhile, and seeing no other Indians, Mr. Cowan commenced a pilgrimage on his knees which continued for several days and probably has no parallel in history. He was wholly without food, with three bullet wounds and dangerous bruises on his person, and in a neighborhood that was still thronging with hostile Indians. He crawled along on the back trail in a bright moonlight night until about midnight, when he thought he saw something. Stopping and looking closely, he saw an Indian rise up from his sleep, look around, and then lie down again. Cowan retreated as noiselessly as possible, made a wide detour, and resumed his course. He passed a bunch of broken down Nez Perce horses who had been abandoned. He would have caught one, but there was no bridle and it was doubtful if he could have ridden. It was not until noon the next day that he reached a creek crossing and found plenty of water.

“At a snail’s pace Cowan kept on day after day. One morning, about nine o’clock, he heard Indians again. Lying low behind a tree he watched and listened, and presently saw a body of about 75 Indians passing up the valley. He thought he saw a white man among them, but was not certain. It was, in fact, a company of friendly Bannack scouts on the trail of the Nez Perce, under the command of an army officer. But Cowan did not know and it would not do to run any risk.

“The day after this event he reached the abandoned wagons. There was nothing to be found in the shape of food, but he did find a bird dog that belonged to the party. The dog had probably been there since the wagons were abandoned. At first sight of Cowan she rushed at him fiercely, but suddenly recognizing him, her fury changed and she pawed and caressed him in a paroxysm of joy.

“Cowan made his painful way to the old camp, where he found about a dozen matches and a little coffee scattered on the ground. With an old fruit can he succeeded, after much difficulty, in making some coffee, the first thing he had in the way of nourishment since he was shot. Remaining there overnight, he started for the valley of Nez Perce Creek, because he would there be no more in the route of any force that might be following the Indians. When nearing a point which he had selected for his permanent bivouac, he discovered two horsemen on the edge of some timber and presently distinguished that they were white men. He signaled and they approached, inquiring in much astonishment, ‘Who the h--l are you?’ Cowan gave them his name and they replied that they had expected to bury him that day. They had met Olham and Meyers, who had told them that Cowan was dead. The two men were scouts from Howard’s command. They fixed Cowan up as well as they could, built him a large fire, left him food to last til Howard should come, and went on their way.

“Cowan dropped asleep, but soon fell into another peril which came near to proving fatal. The ground on which he was lying was full of vegetable mold, very dry at that season of the year, and the fire burrowed through it with facility. Cowan was awakened by the heat and found himself completely surrounded by fire. With great difficulty and severe burns, he extricated himself from his new danger.

“Howard and his command came along on the afternoon of August 30th, and went into camp half a mile above the present bridge of Nez Perce Creek. He named this camp ‘Camp Cowan.’ He brought news of the safety of Mrs. Cowan and her sister and brother. Cowan was given surgical attendance, and when camp moved was carried in one of the wagons. He accompanied General Howard’s command as far as to Mud Geyser, and was then entrusted to the wagon train in charge of Captain Spurgin.

“While descending the valley of Carnelian Creek, Mr. Cowan experienced an unnecessary fright and passed an anxious half hour. There was an alarm of Indians and suddenly he found himself and his ambulance entirely deserted. Quite ungenerously, but with some show of reason, his first thought was his escort had sought their individual safety at the risk of his own. As a matter of fact they had gone to meet the supposed enemy, who had turned out to be friendly scouts under Lieutenant Doane. 

“After many delays and great suffering, Cowan reached Bottler’s ranch about 75 miles north of the Park, a noted stopping place in those days. Here the military left him to await the arrival of friends. Mrs. Cowan in the meanwhile had returned home. She remained there but one day, when she went to her father’s house some 20 miles distant and there received news of Mr. Cowan’s safety. She at once went to Helena to learn by telegraph where he was, and then by stage to Bozeman, where she procured a suitable conveyance and started for Bottler’s ranch. The day after her arrival they set out on the return journey to Bozeman, Mr. Cowan lying on a bed in the bottom of the wagon. The route lay across the Trail Creek divide between the Yellowstone and Gallatin Rivers. When near the top of the divide, and going down a steep hill, the neck yoke broke, the team ran, and the wagon was overturned down the mountain side. Only the generous supply of bedding on which Mr. Cowan was lying saved him from serious injury. By good luck a man on horseback happened along just then. Arnold impressed the horse, made a forced ride to Fort Ellis, secured an ambulance, and the journey was thus completed to Bozeman. Cowan was taken at once to a hotel, where he remained until well enough to return home.

“The fatality which seemed to pursue Mr. Cowan did not yet desert him, but now began to assume a ludicrous phase. As soon as his presence at the hotel became known, friends and others rushed in to see him and tender their congratulations. They gathered around his bed and so many sat down upon it that it gave way and fell in a wreck on the floor. The proprietor jokingly threatened to expel the wounded man, as he could not afford to have such a Jonah on the premises.”
 
 

This is another first hand account of the Cowan Party, by Emma Cowan, Radersburg, Montana Historical Contributions, Vol. 4, from the Montana Historical Library. This story also ran in the Jan. 12, 1952 edition of The Townsend Star:

‘The Cowan party consisting of Mr. and Mrs. Cowan, A.J. Arnold, J.A. Oldham, Mr. Dingee, all of Helena, and Mr. Charles Mann, Frank Carpenter, and Myers the cook, left Radersburg on the sixth of August, 1877, for a trip through the Yellowstone National Park. The party was well-equipped with a double seated carriage, baggage wagon, and four saddle horses.

“Following the road up the Madison they camped the first night at Three Forks, the second at Sterling in Madison county, where for the first time they heard rumors of Indian trouble. Being advised not to go further, the party thought it only another Indian scare, and went on. The third night they spent at Ennis, and passed the last of the ranches that afternoon. Two days later they left the Madison having made arrangements with a man having a camp on Henry’s Lake, for the use of his boats and what ever other fishing equipment they might need. Five very pleasant days were spent at this point, where they found the lake swarming with fish, and hunting was good.

“Reluctantly breaking camp, they continued to the southeast, crossing Targhee Pass, and going on through ten miles of pine barrens. Their next camp was again on the Madison at the mouth of the canyon. While going through the canyon they crossed the river nineteen times, but fortunately due to the low water at that season of the year they had no trouble. That others who followed them might know where to find the best place to ford the river, they tied a white cloth to a bush or bough on the bank.

“Their last camp before reaching the Lower Basin was at the junction of the Gibbon and Firehole rivers. These rivers join to form the Madison. Leaving this camp they followed several miles of foot hills and entered the Lower Geyser Basin, the famous Wonderland. They stayed here one night, and for the first time saw the geysers with their columns of smoke rising from innumerable vents into the atmosphere. The smell of sulphur from the many springs, the unbelievable wonder of it all, made them want to explore and to see everything at once.

“Mrs. Cowan and her young sister Ida, then a girl of twelve, found it difficult to keep up with the men, so they adventured into the wilds on their own. The explosive sputtering and rumbling of the mud springs inspired them with awe and fear. They shuddered to think what would happen to a human being should he be so unfortunate as to fall into one of the holes.

“The next day they established their permanent camp near Fountain Geyser, and from there made their daily excursion to the different points of interest. This was the end of the wagon road, but trails led off from it in different directions, one to the Upper Geyser Basin and one by the way of Mary’s Lake to the Falls and Yellowstone Lake.

“Taking but a few of the most necessary articles, the party went on horse back for a few days’ stay in the Upper Basin. They camped that night in a point of timber near Castle Geyser. At dawn the next day they circled round the crater, too late to see more than great columns of steam. Several times they saw the geyser in eruption, but by daylight it was not so terrifying as it had been the night before, when they first heard its frightening noise. They spent five days in the Upper Basin during which time Miss Carpenter’s brother Frank and some of the other men went on to the Falls and to Yellowstone Lake. They were all to meet August 22 at the Lower Basin camp. They had seen the Yellowstone Park and were ready and eager to go home.

“On August 23 they met General Sherman and his party, the first people they had met from the outside. The Sherman party had come into the Park by the way of Mammoth Hot Springs. They told them of the Nez Perce raid and of the Big Hole tight, and left them with the ominous thought that they might meet the Indians.

“That afternoon they had another visitor, an old man by the name of Shively, traveling from the Black Hills, who was camped a mile down the valley. It seems this man had also heard rumors of Indian trouble. That night Frank Carpenter and Al Oldham thought they might lessen the fear and worry of the members of the party, put on a sort of vaudeville show. Dressing up like bandits, with pistols, knives, and guns strapped on them, they sang songs, told jokes and stories, making the woods ring with non-sensible hilarity.

“How differently they might have acted had they known that the woods around their camp was filled with the advance guard of the Indians, who watching from the darkness, probably enjoyed the fun. Before morning the entire Indian encampment was within one mile of them and not one member of the party heard any unusual sound during the night, although Mrs. Cowan was a very light sleeper.

“In the morning when the men were building the fire, Mrs. Cowan heard the first guttural tones of two or three Indians, who suddenly stood before the fire. She lifted a corner of the tent flap and looked out. Seeing the Indians, she immediately wakened her husband. In a few moments he was partly dressed and outside.

“The men consulted in low tones for a short time, then decided that the best thing to do was to break camp at once and get out as quickly as possible. No one wanted breakfast, except the hungry Indians, who ate everything in sight. More and more Indians came from the woods that seemed to be filled with them.

“It took a little time to pull down tents, load the wagons, harness and saddle the horses, and get ready for the road. At the Indians request, Mr. Arnold began handing out sugar and flour, George Cowan saw him, and at once ordered the Indians away in no choice or gentle language. The Indians were incensed and no doubt this episode lessened his chance for escape.

“The party had used so much ammunition, particularly at Henry’s Lake, that all told there were only ten cartridges left. As things turned out it was probably best that it was that way. Had the men intended to fight it could only have ended disastrously, for what could six men do against several hundred splendidly armed Indians?

“They started on the home trail, escorted by forty Indian braves. In fact all the Indians, except the women of the Squaw camp, whom they met and passed traveling up the Firehole River towards Mary’s Lake, seemed to be going their way. Traveling a mile or more further, the Indians for no apparent reason called a halt. They were then a few hundred yards from where the road entered the timber, and ascends the hillside. One Indian who seemed to be in charge raised his hand, and in a loud voice apparently gave a command, for immediately forty or fifty Indians came through the line of timber, where they had evidently been waiting in ambush. Another Indian spoke to Mr. Cowan and pointed to the Indian that had given the command, then he said in good English, ‘Him Joseph.’ This was their introduction to the Great Chief Joseph.

“The Indians were well-armed with excellent guns and with belts filled with cartridges. As the morning sunshine glistened on the polished surfaces of the gun barrels, no regiment of soldiers could have looked more formidable. The party was ordered to backtrack, which they did with some little effort at protest, realizing however the utter futility of it. The Indians during all this time had kept up an appearance of friendliness, pretending that if they should let them go, other bad Indians would kill them.

“They re-passed their morning camp to the right, and for two miles followed the trail towards Mary’s Lake, until they could go no further with the wagon because of fallen trees. Here they unhitched the horses from the wagon, look a few wraps that could be conveniently carried, mounted their horses and waited. They were forced to watch quietly while their wagons were ransacked, and everything they had was destroyed, even the spokes from the buggy wheels were broken off and used as whips.

“Despite the fact that the Indians had been harassed, and hard pressed and expected battle at any moment, not from Howard’s command, whom for some reason they termed ‘squaw soldiers,’ but from the Bannack Indians, who were the advance guard for General Howard, the Nez Perce seemed hopeful and light hearted. The Bannack scouts were close upon their heels, and had they desired could have attacked them at several different times.

“The party traveled back over the same ten miles, a noon camp was made and dinner prepared. An Indian, whose name they didn’t know, but whom they called Poker Joe and who spoke English very well, acted as interpreter. He told them that if they gave up their good horses for old and tired ones that would carry them home, they could go on. Without any protest the exchange of animals was made.

“The Indians seemed friendly, and prospect of release seemed good. The prisoners were breathing somewhat easier when Poker Joe, mounted on Mr. Cowan’s fine horse, circled the camp, shouting sonorously some commands, which must have been to resume marching, as the squaws soon began moving. Poker Joe finally came to the prisoners and told them that they could go. They started but soon realized they were being followed by the Indians. In the confusion of getting the march started again, two of the members of the party, Arnold and Dingee had escaped into the woods. The Indians following them soon overtook the refugees and told them the Chief wanted to see them once more. So back they went again, passing their then deserted noon camp, and went up and on to higher timbered ground. Mrs. Cowan’s side saddle had been put on the poor old horse that had been given her. The others rode bare-backed. With Mr. and Mrs. Cowan in the lead, her brother, sister, and others following, they rode along the trail. Indians were on every side, twenty or thirty of them, they were no longer light hearted and their silence seemed threatening. Her husband’s pale and worried face told Mrs. Cowan he felt they were in grave danger. Being a woman herself, she hoped they would soon overtake the squaw camp, for some reason hoping they might be safer.

“Then without warning two shots rang out as two Indians dashed down the trail in front of them. Mrs. Cowan noticed her husband getting down from his horse and wondered why, but she soon knew, for he fell and rolled down the hill as soon as he hit the ground. More shots and Indian yells, all was confusion. Mrs. Cowan got off her horse and was at her husband’s side where he lay against a fallen pine tree, in less than an instant. She heard her sister’s frightened screams and called her. Ida came and crouched beside her as she knelt by her husband’s side. He seemed badly wounded, blood was spurting from his leg, he asked for water, but had there been any, she could not have left him to get it. They both must have glanced up at the same moment, for he said, ‘Keep quiet. It won’t be long.’ Both thought the same thing. Every gun, it seemed, of all the Indians’ was leveled at them. She never forgot that instant, it left an impression on her and her sister’s mind that could never be effaced. The holes in those gun barrels looked as big as saucers.

“A compelling pressure on Mrs. Cowan’s shoulder drew her away from her husband, looking back and up she saw an Indian with an immense navy pistol trying to get a shot at her husband’s head. Wrenching free from his grasp she leaned over her husband, only once more to be roughly dragged away. Another Indian stepped up, another shot rang out, and her husband’s head fell back with a stream of red trickling down his face from beneath his hat. The smell of warm blood, horror of it all, her sister’s screams, a sick faint feeling, and all was blank.

“The others of the party, including her brother, had run for the brush, an Indian following him was about to shoot when for some reason— known only to Frank himself— made the sign of the cross. The Indian lowered his gun and told Frank to follow him. No other attempt was made on his life, several times he saw his sister ahead of him but did not dare to speak to her. She was fastened with a strap behind an Indian. Frank helped drive the horses, and overtaking the squaw camps, they afterwards learned, that the chief suspecting mischief, had sent Poker Joe back to prevent any further trouble.

“Mrs. Cowan’s first recollections after regaining consciousness was of noises of all kinds, hooting, yelling, neighing of horses, a strange medley. Everything seemed far away, then she heard her name called faintly and tried to answer. Her brother had ridden up beside her and tried to comfort her. He told her the Indians promised that no harm should befall them. All she could see was her husband’s face with blood streaming down it. She remembered her brother telling her that her young sister was safe.

“The Indians were trying to force their loose horses over a mountain range covered with almost impassable timber, her brother Frank was helping as guard. He knew the country. It was near impossible to force the several hundred pack horses through the brush, no white man could have done it without the help of some kind of axe or implement to cut the way. Many of the horses were lost and were later picked up by the Bannacks.

“At last they reached the top of the divide, the timer was not so thick, there were open places, or parks, and at dusk they came to a quiet valley where already camp fires began to glow. The Indian leading Mrs. Cowan’s horse, for after regaining consciousness she was allowed to ride alone, the Indian keeping a tight grip on the bridle rein, lead her horse to a campfire where her brother met her and clasped her in his arms. She was led to the fire and spoke to and Indian, whom she was told was Chief Joseph. He did not speak, but motioned her to sit on the blanket her brother spread on the ground. Squaws were getting supper. She asked about her sister and was told that the young girl was safe at Poker Joe’s camp and that she could see her in the morning. The old man Shively was held with her. Mrs. Carpenter could not eat the food offered to her.

“Her brother tried to talk to Chief Joseph, but could not. The Chief sat by the fire, somber and silent, foreseeing in his gloomy mediations, no doubt, the unhappy ending of his campaign. He looked every inch the ‘noble red man’ you read about. Grave and dignified, he looked the Chief.

“The Indians were without teepees, these were abandoned in the Big Hole fight, but pieces of canvas were stretched over a pole or bush affording some protection from the cold night. Mrs. Cowan and her brother kept an all night vigil by the camp fire, sadly wondering what the next day would bring. He had been told by the friendly Indian who had spared his life, they would be sent home unharmed. But they had been promised that before and the Indians had broken faith.

“Fires were lighted at dawn, all was activity and breakfast was soon underway. The prisoners were not hungry and soon Poker Joe came up and took Mrs. Cowan to her sister only a short distance away. The frightened girl threw herself into her sister’s arms, and cried for joy. ‘Such a forlorn looking child,’ Mrs. Cowan said, ‘I trust I may never again see.’ She was sure her sister had been killed with her husband, and couldn’t quite believe that she still lived.

“Poker Joe again circled the camp giving orders for the day’s march. Frank Carpenter came up leading horses that had been given him, and that morning the four of them, with Mr. Shively, the old man, rode together. They reached the crossing near the Mud Geyser at noon. The Indians plunged into the stream, most anywhere and made camp on the opposite shore. After the Indians had crossed, the prisoners followed, finding the water so deep on the farther bank that their horses were forced to swim. At the squaw camp later, dinner was prepared. Mrs. Cowan was weak from want of food, and forced down a little bread. She was offered fish, but refused. She had seen a squaw take several from a large string of fish, cut them in two and throw them into a camp kettle, not bothering with the formality of cleaning.

“Another council was held while the prisoners sat in the shade of some trees and watched the proceedings. Six or seven Indians, the only ones in camp at the time, sat in a circle and passed a long pipe from one to the other. Each took a few puffs, then one by one they arose and spoke. Poker Joe acted as interpreter. Presently he said the Indians had decided to let Mrs. Cowan and her sister go with a soldier they had captured that morning, but that her brother and Mr. Shively would be kept to act as guides. Mrs. Cowan refused to go unless her brother was allowed to go with them. She did not like the looks of the soldier. This caused another discussion but they finally agreed, and preparations were made for their departure.

“Some of their own bedding, a water-proof wrap, a jacket for the young girl, bread and matches, and two old worn-out horses were given them, and they were ready to start. They said goodbye to Shively, promising to deliver some messages for him to friends at Philipsburg, should they escape.

“Again they crossed the river, Frank Carpenter riding behind Poker Joe, who went with them about half a mile and showed them a well defined trail down the river. He told them they must ride ‘all day, all night, no sleep,’—then they would reach Bozeman on the second day. He insisted again that they ride all night. They shook hands with the friendly Indian and set out, not rapidly, for to them it seemed folly to think they could escape.

“They met with no more serious adventures and reached Bozeman worn out but thankful to be alive, on the third afternoon.

“Frank Carpenter with a party of men went back to see if they might find out something about Mr. Cowan, though they all thought he had been killed.

“Later it was found that Mr. Cowan had been found and was with General Howard’s command. He was badly wounded but he would live and would be sent back to Virginia City or brought the other way to Bozeman.”

[meanwhile...]

“Mr. Cowan regained consciousness... as the sun was going down behind the treetops, after being shot he had rolled down a light declivity against a fallen tree, and on recovering found himself on the opposite side of the same tree. After several vain attempts to arise he finally, in a dazed condition, drew himself to his feet by the aid of a limb. Hearing noise, he looked around and saw an Indian on horseback in the act of drawing his gun. The fiend jumped from his horse and came toward Mr. Cowan firing, shooting him through the hip, the ball passing through the hip bone and coming out in front. Mr. Cowan fell upon his face, without losing consciousness and lay so until dark, when he crawled into the bushes for shelter. Being consumed by thirst, he dragged himself for hours on his hands and knees in search of water. He came suddenly upon some sleeping Indians, but being in the shade of a tree, crawled carefully back about one hundred yards at right angles, resuming his painful journey on hands and knees and continuing until midnight, when he crawled between two logs and lay there until morning. In this manner he toiled on, without food, for five days, or until the next Wednesday about 11:00 in the forenoon, when he was found by two of General Howard’s scouts, who cared for him, gave him food, and left him where Howard would find him the next night. He had no water until the next day after he was shot, and the endurance of the man was marvelous. General Howard did not come until Thursday noon, but then took him down the Yellowstone and sent him with an escort toward Bozeman. He gave out when only a part of the journey was accomplished, and was not taken to Bozeman until he had rested for six days. When found by the scouts he learned that they had also found two of his party safe, Oldham and Myers, and when General Howard reached him he was overjoyed at the intelligence that his wife was also safe. Mr. Cowan’s experience was certainly remarkable, and very few would have survived a similar one.”