Winfield Courier, July 29, 1875.
Crazy Man. Tolles was his name, Dan Tolles, he said, and he was from Beaver creek, in the southeast corner of the county. He had run all the way from the state line—on a hair line. The Osage Indians had killed his brother, Sam Tolles, and he, Dan Tolles, had killed as many of them as they had of him and the remainder of them pursued, fired at, and tried to kill him again, but he had out winded 'em and give them the slip, and now he wanted to raise a company of men (Capt. Shenneman and his militia company would do if he couldn't get boys and private citizens enough) to go down and massacre these cruel savages, recover the body of his brother, and stop them in their murderous work.
The above we caught from the hurried and excited conversation of a travel-soiled, hair-disheveled, badly frightened, crazy looking individual who suddenly appeared on our streets last Thursday.
We thought at the time the man was crazy and our surmises have since been proved to be correct. From Mr. Wm. Bartlow, of town, we learn that last Thursday morning while coming home from his mill on Grouse creek, he was overtaken by this same man, who was at the time terribly excited. He said the Indians were just behind him and were trying to kill him. He wanted Mr. Bartlow to hide him. Mr. Bartlow thinking there might be some truth in the statement, hurriedly helped him into his wagon, covered him up with some blankets, and drove on. Soon, however, he came to a place where the road was new, being in doubt, got out and went ahead to reconnoiter. Returning in a few moments to his team, he saw this strange man jump from the wagon, and on seeing him, started off down the hill ab breakneck speed, screaming at every jump, and he only stopped, as we suppose, when he reached our city as above described.
From parties living in the neighborhood we learn that there have been no Indians except a few begging Kaws down there since the Indian war and that this man Tolles must actually be crazy. He left town Friday and we have heard nothing of him since.
(?) Tolles and Endicott, of Grouse Creek...
Arkansas City Traveler, July 26, 1876.
We learn that Messrs. Tolles and Endicott, of Grouse Creek, built a flatboat, twenty-five feet long by six feet wide, and loading it with 4,000 pounds of flour, started on Sunday morning down the Arkansas to find a market. This is just a trial trip; but if successful, it is their intention to ship all their flour in that direction.
Arkansas City Traveler, March 14, 1877.
HORRIBLE DEATH BY FREEZING. On last Wednesday evening, George Tolles, a dwarf, aged 54 years, left Mr. Blendins, near Maple City, and started for his home on Grouse Creek. As all will remember, a cold, windy hail storm began about 9 o’clock, during which Tolles was out, only a few miles from home. Not being a man of sound mind, he soon lost his way, and instead of going southwest, went southeast; then back almost to where he left the road, and southwest again. He then left the road and went southeast, until he reached the Territory, where he laid down and died. When he came back to the road a second time, he was within one mile and a half of Mr. Musselman’s house. Not hearing anything of him, a party started in pursuit a day afterwards, and after following his tracks many miles, finally came to where he lay dead and stiff. Some animal had eaten a portion of his face, and his appearance was sad and horrible. The day following the neighbors carried him to a resting place, where his remains lay unmarked, except by the new made earth.