In the 1860s, when Kansas was a brand new state, there were nomadic bands of Native Americans scattered across the plains.  One such group was known as the Kahola Tribe, and they roamed sections of Eastern Kansas known as the Flint Hills.  In the late summer, when harvests were plentiful and wild game was abundant, the tribe settled on a big lake, which is known today as Lake Kahola.  

The Kahola tribe was led by a strong and proud warrior chief named Kahokee.  Native stories say Chief Kahokee was a smart and gentle leader, but the truth got blurred when settlers arrived to set up towns across the Flint Hills.  These settlers regarded Kahokee as a vicious murderer, ready to burn barns and homes with horses and families still inside.  

The settlers decided it was time to move the Kaholas away from the big lake, so they sent four men on horseback to pay the Chief a small sum in silver and leather to leave.  No one knows for sure what happened to the four men, but one horse made it back to the settlement dragging its rider behind on a noose tied to the saddle horn.  

And so it was on the evening of a full moon in July the settlers planned an ambush of the Kaholas.  The goal was to capture or kill Chief Kahokee and his warriors, and then force the rest southward toward Indian country.  

The settlers started on higher ground, and their rifles were far superior to the tribe’s arrows and spears.  It was a massacre, with only a few of the Kahola women and children escaping southward, as planned.  

Chief Kahokee would not give in. He quietly moved to the flank of the sharp shooters, savagely beheading three men before a bullet slammed into his chest. 

As the riflemen surrounded Kahokee’s last known location, they heard a splash nearby.  The mighty Chief had made it to open water and was swimming for the middle.  The riflemen opened fire.

The last anyone saw of Chief Kahokee was his arm raised in the full moon light, slowly sinking beneath the water.  Legend has it that on the full moon in the summertime, you can still hear the cries of the massacred Kahola Tribe. Sometimes, on those same nights, not too far from the bank of the lake, Chief Kahokee raises his arm in the moonlight once more.