26

FRANK WHEELAN, "Utak Frank,"
(THE GREAT INDIAN FIGHT & HORSESHOES.)

Was born on the banks of the Missouri, and raised at Trader's Point, about eight miles below where now stands the city of Council Bluffs, at a time when the primitive state of that section was almost unmolested. He has followed "the march of empire" in its westward course, and always at the head of the column–riding pony express when a boy from Nebraska City (then the fitting-out depot for "prairie schooner" caravans across the Great Desert) to the Otoe Agency. At the breaking out of the Pike's Peak excitement Frank endured the well-known vicissitudes attendant on a perilous journey to and return from the most disappointing of Eldorados. Fought the savages with General Sully's command, and was in the first party attacked by the Indians in the great outbreak on the South Platte, his partner being the first white man killed, and only by determined fighting and good horse-flesh saved his own scalp. Drove stage on the Overland Route under Old Slade, Hi Kelly, and others, gaining a reputation for ability and courage in the most dangerous and trying times of that memorable line. Was considered a reliable train-wagon master, during which occupation he received his first idea of a locomotive on the completion of the U.P.R.R. to the Forks of the Platte and the arrival of the first "iron horse," indicating with others a ranch on the Horseshoe, twenty-eight miles north of Fort Laramie, where occurred the most startling experience of his life; one, the recounting of which will ever be a part of the history of the sanguinary border–in which his gallant and successful struggle against odds, while being well authenticated, will seem more like fiction than fact. Acticipating the result, the ranch building was connnected by an underground passage with a bush-covered ravine about sixty feet behind it, with a carefully concealed entrance, the ravine running down the hill to the bottom. One morning in January, 18888, a band of sixty savages were descried, who surrounded the place and demanded flour, bacon, and provisions and captured the horses. Being sure of their fate, Wheeling, Marion Thornburg, John Smith, and Bill World determined "to stand them off," and being well-armed, fought them all day successfully, killing two and wounding the others, with only a slight flesh-wound to Frank. At night they succeeded in setting fire to the cabin, compelling the little garrison to retreat. When all was still, the gloating victors, thinking the fire had done its work of death, dancing around and laughing around the blazing pile. Waiting until well bunched together, the quartet opened a fusillade from their repeating rifles with a murderous energy, born of desperation, so deadly effective and surprising, that consternation reigned supreme. Shouting, yelling, shrieking, balloing, down the hill they scrambled, rolled, or fell, while on an almost parallel line went the four avengers, re-loading as they ran. Assembling at the bottom, a hasty but noisy council was being held, at short range from the gallant four, when, at a quiet signal from Frank, five deadly volleys were poured into the crowd, which seemed doubly demoralizing. In the confusion thus created, and assisted by an unusually dark night out on the level plains–spurred by a glimmer of hope, encouraged by a chance for life–sped the little party, and arrived at a ranch kept by two men named Jones and Harper. Hastily waking them, only to find their horses gone, and refreshing up, a start was made for the fort. In the morning the Indians re-appeared, and a running fight for two mniles ensued, Jones and Harper both being killed and Thornburg severely wounded. Reaching a polut where a stand could be made, sand was thrown up for breast-workers, and the now despondent fugitives prepared to sell their loves at the

FRANK WHEELAN, "Utak Frank,"
(THE GREAT INDIAN FIGHT & HORSESHOES.)

Was born on the banks of the Missouri, and raised at Trader's Point, about eight miles below where now stands the city of Council Bluffs, at a time when the primitive state of that section was almost unmolested. He has followed "the march of empire" in its westward course, and always at the head of the column–riding pony express when a boy from Nebraska City (then the fitting-out depot for "prairie schooner" caravans across the Great Desert) to the Otoe Agency. At the breaking out of the Pike's Peak excitement Frank endured the well-known vicissitudes attendant on a perilous journey to and return from the most disappointing of Eldorados. Fought the savages with General Sully's command, and was in the first party attacked by the Indians in the great outbreak on the South Platte, his partner being the first white man killed, and only by determined fighting and good horse-flesh saved his own scalp. Drove stage on the Overland Route under Old Slade, Hi Kelly, and others, gaining a reputation for ability and courage in the most dangerous and trying times of that memorable line. Was considered a reliable train-wagon master, during which occupation he received his first idea of a locomotive on the completion of the U. P. R. R. to the Forks of the Platte and the arrival of the first "iron horse," indicating with others a ranch on the Horseshoe, twenty-eight miles north of Fort Laramie, where occurred the most startling experience of his life; one, the recounting of which will ever be a part of the history of the sanguinary border–in which his gallant and successful struggle against odds, while being well authenticated, will seem more like fiction than fact. Acticipating the result, the ranch building was connnected by an underground passage with a bush-covered ravine about sixty feet behind it, with a carefully concealed entrance, the ravine running down the hill to the bottom. One morning in January, 18888, a band of sixty savages were descried, who surrounded the place and demanded flour, bacon, and provisions and captured the horses. Being sure of their fate, Wheeling, Marion Thornburg, John Smith, and Bill World determined "to stand them off," and being well-armed, fought them all day successfully, killing two and wounding the others, with only a slight flesh-wound to Frank. At night they succeeded in setting fire to the cabin, compelling the little garrison to retreat. When all was still, the gloating victors, thinking the fire had done its work of death, dancing around and laughing around the blazing pile. Waiting until well bunched together, the quartet opened a fusillade from their repeating rifles with a murderous energy, born of desperation, so deadly effective and surprising, that consternation reigned supreme. Shouting, yelling, shrieking, balloing, down the hill they scrambled, rolled, or fell, while on an almost parallel line went the four avengers, re-loading as they ran. Assembling at the bottom, a hasty but noisy council was being held, at short range from the gallant four, when, at a quiet signal from Frank, five deadly volleys were poured into the crowd, which seemed doubly demoralizing. In the confusion thus created, and assisted by an unusually dark night out on the level plains–spurred by a glimmer of hope, encouraged by a chance for life–sped the little party, and arrived at a ranch kept by two men named Jones and Harper. Hastily waking them, only to find their horses gone, and refreshing up, a start was made for the fort. In the morning the Indians re-appeared, and a running fight for two mniles ensued, Jones and Harper both being killed and Thornburg severely wounded. Reaching a polut where a stand could be made, sand was thrown up for breast-workers, and the now despondent fugitives prepared to sell their loves at the