The Indians' Last Fight; Or, The Dull Knife Raid — Background and Themes

A Scout's Voice, Not a Historian's

Collins's preface explicitly frames his authority as experiential rather than academic. He writes that he 'would not have undertaken the present work' without encouragement from 'friends of former days,' and he defends his lack of formal education by citing an unnamed ex-president who dismissed 'all the “Ph’s”, and “Ch’s”.' This defensive, self-justifying tone is a hallmark of the memoir genre, but it also signals a deliberate rejection of literary polish. In the narrative proper, Collins's prose is direct and concrete: he describes a 'small island covered with scrubby timber' where the channel was 'absolutely dry and filled with coarse grass and brush.' Such precise, sensory details ground the account in observable reality, not romanticized adventure. The catalog's 'Fantasy' label seems mismatched; Collins is at pains to assert his veracity, not his imagination.

The Mechanics of a Military Blunder

The excerpt detailing the Arickaree Creek engagement is structured as a case study in poor planning. Collins enumerates the expedition's mistakes with a veteran's hindsight: 'He took along provisions for only ten days, on pack mules. He had no ambulances, nor wagons.' The leader, referred to only as 'the General,' is portrayed as indecisive—'seemed to lose his head'—and is saved by the blunt advice of 'Jack Stillwell, a boy of nineteen,' who yells, 'Why in blazes don’t you go over on that island?' This moment of insubordination is presented without editorial comment, letting the action speak. Collins's focus on logistical failures (insufficient men, supplies, and transport) and the ad hoc use of 'dead horses as breastworks' reveals a narrator more interested in tactical lessons than heroic mythmaking. The catalog subject 'Frontier and pioneer life' is accurate, but the emphasis here is on military history, not domestic settlement.

The Cheyenne as Adversaries, Not Stereotypes

Collins refers to the Cheyenne warriors as 'the foe' and 'savages,' using the period's racial language, but he also grants them strategic agency. He notes that the Indians 'had been keeping close watch on the movements of the little parties of scouts' and that their initial attempt to stampede the horses was a calculated move to isolate the soldiers. The Cheyenne leader Roman Nose is called 'the Bonoparte of the Chyenne tribe'—a comparison that, while ethnocentric, acknowledges military prowess. The catalog lists 'Cheyenne Indians -- Kings and rulers -- Biography' and 'Dull Knife' as subjects, yet the excerpts focus on Roman Nose, not Dull Knife, and on a single engagement rather than a biography. Collins's narrative is episodic, and the promised 'Dull Knife Raid' may be only one thread in a larger tapestry of reminiscences. Readers should not expect a comprehensive biography from this memoir.

Collins's memoir is best approached as a participant's account, valuable for its unvarnished detail and its reflection of a frontier scout's worldview. The catalog's 'Fantasy & Juvenile Worlds' classification is misleading; this is a work of personal history, not fiction for children. Readers interested in Plains warfare or the genre of frontier memoir will find Collins's voice distinctive, but they should verify his claims against other sources, as his memory is fallible and his perspective is that of a single, partisan witness.

Collins's scout never flatters himself, just tells what the plains demanded of him. That same plain grit lives in Vigilante Days and Ways The pioneers of the Rockies; the makers and making of Montana and Idaho — Story, Setting & Ideas, where order comes hard and late. They sit quietly together on my shelf, two voices that saw the West before it got polite.