a very steep hill, at the top of which is a vast plain, I and my man
had to walk, leaving our horses to shift for themselves, and climb up
as they could; and so steep and intricate were the windings that I had
to throw off my coat, which, together with my gun, I laid on one of
the pack-horses. The moment we reached the top, and before we could
gather our horses or look about us, we were overtaken by a tremendous
cold snow storm; the sun became instantly obscured, and the wind blew
a hurricane. We were taken by surprise. I immediately called out to
the men to shift for themselves, and let the horses do the same. Just
at this moment I accidentally came in contact with one of the loaded
horses, for such was the darkness that we could not see three feet
ahead; but, unfortunately, it was not the horse on which I had laid
my coat and gun. I instantly cut the tyings, threw off the load, and
mounting on the pack-saddle, rode off at full speed through the deep
snow, in the hopes of reaching a well-known place of shelter not far
off; but in the darkness and confusion I missed the place, and at last
got so benumbed with cold that I could ride no farther; and, besides,
my horse was almost exhausted. In this plight I dismounted and took to
walking, in order to warm myself. But no place of shelter was to be
found. Night came on; the storm increased in violence; my horse gave
up; and I myself was so exhausted, wandering through the deep snow,
that I could go no further. Here I halted, unable to decide what to
do. My situation appeared desperate: without my coat; without my gun;
without even a fire-steel. In such a situation I must perish. At last
I resolved on digging a hole in the snow; but in trying to do so, I
was several times in danger of being suffocated with the drift and
eddy. In this dilemma I unsaddled my horse, which stood motionless as
a statue in the snow. I put the saddle under me, and the saddle-cloth,
about the size of a handkerchief, round my shoulders, then squatted
down in the dismal hole, more likely to prove my grave than a shelter.
On entering the hole I said to myself, ‘Keep awake and live; sleep and
die.’ I had not been long, however, in this dismal burrow before the
cold, notwithstanding my utmost exertions to keep my feet warm, gained
so fast upon me that I was obliged to take off my shoes, then pull my
trousers, by little and little, over my feet, till at last I had the
waistband round my toes; and all would not do. I was now reduced to the
last shift, and tried to keep my feet warm at the risk of freezing
my body. At last I had scarcely strength to move a limb; the cold was
gaining fast upon me; and the inclination to sleep almost overcame me.
In this condition I passed the whole night; nor did the morning promise
me much relief; yet I thought it offered me a glimpse of hope, and
that hope induced me to endeavour to break out of my snowy prison. I
tried, but in vain, to put on my frozen shoes; I tried again and again
before I could succeed. I then dug my saddle out of the snow, and after
repeated efforts, reached the horse and put the saddle on; but could
not myself get into the saddle. Ten o’clock next day came before there
was any abatement of the storm, and when it did clear up a little I
knew not where I was; still it was cheering to see the storm abate. I
tried again to get into the saddle; and when I at last succeeded, my
half frozen horse refused to carry me, for he could scarcely lift a
leg. I then alighted and tried to walk; but the storm broke out again
with redoubled violence. I saw no hope of saving myself but to kill the
horse, open him, and get into his body, and I drew my hunting-knife for
the purpose; but then it occurred to me that the body would freeze, and
that I could not, in that case, extricate myself. I therefore abandoned
the idea, laid my knife by, and tried again to walk, and again got into
the saddle. The storm now abating a little, my horse began to move;
and I kept wandering about through the snow till three o’clock in the
afternoon, when the storm abated altogether; and the sun coming out,
I recognized my position. I was then not two miles from my own house,
where I arrived at dusk; and it was high time, for I could not have
gone much farther; and after all it was my poor horse that saved me,
for had I set out on foot, I should never, in my exhausted condition,
have reached the house.”
A little later he made another winter journey of great discomfort,
suffering much from cold and hunger. His return to Okanagan was
down what Ross calls the Sa-mick-a-meigh River,[3] a region which
twenty-five or thirty years ago abounded in mountain sheep and was
often visited by Eastern sportsmen.
[3] Similkameen.
In his account of the journey of Mr. Clarke and his party to Spokane,
made the August previous, Ross gives an account of the loss and
recovery of Ross Cox, which that author has himself told in detail in
his book referred to in a previous volume.[4] Ross treats the adventure
somewhat lightly, although he does remark that when he was at Spokane
in the winter Cox had hardly recovered yet.
[4] _Trails of the Pathfinders_, p. 313.
It was the next spring that Clarke, an old Northwester, who might have
known better, committed the grave indiscretion of hanging an Indian
who had stolen a silver goblet but afterward returned it. It was not
until the deed had been done and the angry Indians had disappeared to
carry the news in all directions and to assemble surrounding tribes to
take revenge on the white men that Clarke appreciated what he had done.
Fortunately the people were all packed up ready to start, and they
hastily loaded their canoes and went on down the stream.
McKenzie, in the meantime, had reached the middle of the Nez Percés
country and was wintering there, but he soon found that he was not in
a trapping country. The Nez Percés hunted buffalo for food and went to
war for glory. They did not like beaver trapping and made a poor trade.
Now, McKenzie while on a visit to Fort Spokane learned from McTavish, a
Northwester, of the war between Great Britain and the United States. He
hurried back to his post there, put his goods in cache, and set out for
Astoria, which he reached in 1813. At Astoria things were not cheerful.
The ship had not returned, and McDougall and McKenzie felt that they
were likely to be pushed out of the country by the Northwesters.
However, McKenzie turned about and started up the river. When he
reached his post he found that his cache had been raised. The older
Indians admitted the robbery, and said that it had been done by young
men whom they could not control. McKenzie was a man of great courage,
and when the chiefs would not assist him in recovering his property he
determined to recover it himself.
“Accordingly next morning, after depositing in a safe place the few
articles he had brought with him, he and his little band, armed
cap-a-pie, set out on foot for the camp. On their approach, the
Indians, suspecting something, turned out in groups here and there,
also armed. But McKenzie, without a moment’s hesitation, or giving
them time to reflect, ordered Mr. Seaton, who commanded the men, to
surround the first wigwam or lodge reached with charged bayonets,
while he himself and Mr. Reed entered the lodge, ransacked it, turning
everything topsy-turvy, and with their drawn daggers cutting and
ripping open everything that might be supposed to conceal the stolen
property. In this manner they went from one lodge to another till they
had searched five or six with various success, when the chiefs demanded
a parley, and gave McKenzie to understand that if he desisted they
would do the business themselves, and more effectually. McKenzie, after
some feigned reluctance, at last agreed to the chiefs’ proposition.
They then asked him to withdraw; but this he peremptorily refused,
knowing from experience that they were least exposed in the camp; for
Indians are always averse to hostilities taking place in their camp,
in the midst of their women and children. Had the Indians foreseen
or been aware of the intention of the whites, they would never have
allowed them within their camp. But they were taken by surprise, and
that circumstance saved the whites. However, as soon as the chiefs
undertook the business, McKenzie and his men stood still and looked
on. The chiefs went from house to house, and after about three hours
time they returned, bringing with them a large portion of the property,
and delivered it to McKenzie, when he and his men left the camp and
returned home, bearing off in triumph the fruits of their valour; and
well pleased with their hairbreadth adventure; an adventure not to be
repeated. And under all circumstances, it was at the time considered
the boldest step ever taken by the whites on Columbian ground.”
However, the Indians determined to get even with McKenzie, and they did
this by refusing to sell the horses which were absolutely necessary to
the fur traders, since horses were the only food available, for they
were not in a position to go out and run buffalo. McKenzie later got
the best of them by this plan: When the whites had nothing to eat, the
articles usually paid for a horse were tied up in a bundle; this done,
McKenzie, with ten or twelve of his men, would sally forth with their
rifles to the grazing ground of the horses, shoot the fattest they
could find, and carry off the flesh to their camp, leaving the price
stuck up on a pole alongside the head of the dead horse.
“This manœuvre succeeded several times, and annoyed the Indians very
much; some of them lost their best horses by it. Then it was that they
combined to attack the whites in their camp. This news was brought
McKenzie by one of his hired spies, and was confirmed by the fact of
an Indian offering to sell a horse for powder and ball only. From
various other suspicious circumstances there remained but little doubt
in the minds of the whites but that there was some dark design in
agitation. In this critical conjuncture, McKenzie again eluded their
grasp by ensconcing himself and his party in an island in the middle of
the river. There they remained, in a manner blockaded by the Indians;
but not so closely watched but that they appeared every now and then
with their long rifles among the Shahaptian horses; so that the
Indians grew tired of their predatory excursions, and therefore sent a
messenger to McKenzie. A parley ensued between the main land and the
island; the result of which was, that the Indians agreed to sell horses
to the whites at the usual price--the whites, on their part, to give up
their marauding practices.”
[Illustration: ASSINIBOINE-PIEGAN BATTLE BEFORE THE WALLS OF FORT
MACKENZIE]
The trade in horses now went on briskly, although McKenzie regarded the
Indians with much suspicion. He procured food and bought eighty horses,
which he sent off to Spokane. It was about this time that news came to
them of Mr. Clark’s ill-advised punishment of the Indians. There was
but one opinion among the traders, and they pursued the only possible
course: took to their canoes, and went down the river to Astoria.
The journeyings of the party which had started overland to St. Louis
the summer before were difficult enough. They starved and travelled,
and travelled and starved; crossed the mountains, and wintered on their
eastern flanks, and finally reached St. Louis April 30.
Mr. Hunt, after trading along the coast of Russian America, went to
the Sandwich Islands and then to Canton. On his return Mr. Hunt waited
for a time at the Sandwich Islands, hoping that a ship from New York
might come to the relief of Astoria. He waited in vain, and finally
chartering the ship “Albatross” he reached Astoria in August.
The war between Great Britain and the United States had led the
Northwest Fur Company to believe that before long they could get
possession of Astoria, and thus hold the whole trade on the Pacific
coast, except that of the Russians. The Northwesters McTavish and
Stuart were on their way to the mouth of the Columbia to meet the ship
“Isaac Tod,” which was daily expected, and the Astorians had no means
of defence. They could fight off the Northwesters, of course, but if a
ship with guns came they would be helpless. McDougall seemed to have
been quite willing to give up the post and to sell the furs to the
Northwesters, and before long this took place. McDougall has generally
been charged with secretly agreeing to swindle Mr. Astor by fixing
absurdly low prices on the furs and goods. At all events, all of the
goods on hand, wherever stationed, were delivered to the Northwest
Company at ten per cent on cost and charges, while the furs were valued
at so much per skin. Ross declared that the transaction was considered
fair and equitable on both sides, but other men who were there speak
of it in quite a different way. The Indians, who for the past year or
two had declared themselves the firm friends of the fur traders, still
wished to defend these friends from the attacks of their enemies. Old
Come Comly even professed to be anxious to fight for them, but when the
sloop-of-war “Raccoon” came into Baker’s Bay the Indian chief wholly
changed his attitude, and declared that he was glad that he had lived
long enough to see a great ship of his brother King George enter the
river. He received a drink of wine, a flag, coat, hat, and sword, and
became wholly British.
Captain Black, of the “Raccoon,” and his ship’s company had hoped
to capture Astoria with all its furs--a rich prize--and he was much
disappointed when he found that all these things had been sold to the
Northwest Company by amicable agreement.
In the spring of 1814 Mr. Hunt, accompanied by several members of the
Astoria party, took their final departure from Fort George. A number
of those who had been Astorians, when freed from their contracts or
agreements by Mr. Hunt, again took service with the Northwest Company,
most of them receiving such work as they were qualified to perform.
Ross was put in charge of the post at Okanagan, as he had been under
the Pacific Fur Company. Stationed here now for some time, he gives
an excellent picture of the life, and especially good accounts of the
manners, ways, and customs of the Indians, and, with an interesting
Chinook vocabulary and a table of weather at the mouth of the Columbia,
closes the volume.
As an account of the Astor project to control the fur trade of the
Pacific coast and of the difficulties of establishing a trading post
among the Indians of the Columbia River, the book is of extreme
interest.
FUR HUNTERS OF THE FAR WEST
I
WITH THE NORTHWEST FUR COMPANY
After the downfall of the Pacific Fur Company, the occupation of
Astoria by the Northwesters, and the change of its name to Fort George,
Ross took service with the Northwest Company. It is life as a fur
trader with the Northwest Company that he describes in his book _The
Fur Hunters of the Far West_. In point of time, these volumes precede
most of the books on the far western fur trade, and they give faithful
and interesting accounts of the conditions met with at the time. Ross’s
books, in fact, are foundation stones for any history of the settlement
of the Northwest. Although the books were not written until long after
the period of which they treat--for the preface of this work is dated
June 1, 1854, while the book was published the next year--Ross must
have kept full diaries of his goings and comings, for in most of his
dates he is exact, and his narrative is full of details that would
almost certainly have slipped from an unaided memory.
In his new service Ross discovered that matters were now in charge of
men who knew very little about the Indians of the Pacific coast, and
who lightly regarded those persons who had been in the service of Mr.
Astor, whom they called Yankees. The new-comers had much to learn.
One of the first acts of the Northwest Company was to despatch an
expedition of twenty men, in charge of Messrs. Keith and Alexander
Stuart, to report to Fort William, on Lake Superior, the news of
the acquisition of Astoria by the Northwest Company. On reaching
the Cascades of the Columbia they were attacked by a large number
of Indians, and Mr. Stuart was wounded. Two Indians were killed,
and the expedition returned to Fort George. The attack caused great
indignation there, and an extraordinary expedition was fitted out to
punish the Indians. Eighty-five picked men and two Chinook interpreters
constituted the force; and besides the ordinary arms carried in the
West they had “two great guns, six swivels, cutlasses, hand grenades,
and hand knives.”
As the expedition passed along up the river, it struck terror to
the hearts of the Indians, while it is said that “the two Chinook
interpreters could neither sleep nor eat, so grieved were they at the
thoughts of the bloody scenes that were to be enacted.”
The people who were to be punished, however--the Cath-le-yach-é-yach,
a Chinookan tribe living below the Cascades--were not all frightened,
and when they were required to deliver up the property taken from
Keith and Stuart, they declared themselves ready to do so, but not
until after the whites had delivered to them those who had killed
two of their people. They sent off their women and children into
the forest and prepared to fight. There were multitudinous parleys
lasting for three or four days, at the end of which time the whites,
regarding discretion as the better part of valor, “without recovering
the property, firing a gun, or securing a single prisoner, sounded a
retreat and returned home on the ninth day, having made matters ten
times worse than they were before.”
The expedition was much derided by the Indians, and the white people
who took part in it were extremely mortified about it. The situation
was really one of war, and when a short time afterward the Northwest
brigade departed for the interior, the Indians at the Cascades did not
come near to the camp nor in any degree interrupt their progress.
Consulted by McDonald, who was in charge of the Columbia trade, Ross
had urged on him the importance of taking the “usual precautions” in
travelling up the river. Nevertheless, no guard was set at night, and
an alarm taking place, people jumped up and began to fire their guns
at random and one of the men was shot dead. There seems no reason to
suppose that there were actually any Indians in the camp.
At Fort Okanagan the expedition passed on, leaving Ross behind in
charge of the post. He was now in a prairie country where horses were
absolutely essential to travel, and no horses were to be had nearer
than Eyakema valley, two hundred miles away, where the horse Indians,
Cayuses, Nez Percés, and other warlike tribes encamped each spring, to
collect the roots of the camas. Here horses were plenty, but, as it
was a great camp occupied by many different tribes, to visit it was to
incur some danger. However, Ross took a few trade goods and set out
with three men, young McKay and two French Canadians, these last taking
with them their Indian wives, to assist in the care of the horses.
It was an anxious time, and the perplexities of the journey were not
lessened when, on the fourth night after leaving Okanagan, the chief
of the Pisscows tribe, who had learned where Ross was going, sent two
men to urge him to turn back, declaring that if they did not do so they
were all dead men. However, Ross determined to go on; as he puts it, “I
had risked my life there for the Americans, I could now do no less for
the North-West Company; so with deep regret the friendly couriers left
us and returned, and with no less reluctance we proceeded.”
On the sixth day after leaving the fort they reached the valley, where
they found a great camp, of which they could see the beginning, but not
the end. It must have contained not less than 3,000 men, exclusive of
women and children, and three times that number of horses. Everywhere
was seen the active life of these primitive people. Councils were being
held, women were gathering roots, men were hunting. Horse racing,
games, singing, dancing, drumming, yelling, and a thousand other things
were going on. The noise and confusion are hardly to be described;
but the interest and the beauty of the scene could not have been
appreciated by these men, who were carrying their lives in their hands
and marching into danger.
“Our reception was cool, the chiefs were hostile and sullen, they
saluted us in no very flattering accents. ‘These are the men,’ said
they, ‘who kill our relations, the people who have caused us to mourn.’
And here, for the first time, I regretted we had not taken advice in
time, and returned with the couriers, for the general aspect of things
was against us. It was evident we stood on slippery ground; we felt our
weakness. In all sudden and unexpected rencontres with hostile Indians,
the first impulse is generally a tremor or sensation of fear, but that
soon wears off; it was so with myself at this moment, for after a short
interval I nerved myself to encounter the worst.
“The moment we dismounted, we were surrounded, and the savages, giving
two or three war-whoops and yells, drove the animals we had ridden out
of our sight; this of itself was a hostile movement. We had to judge
from appearances, and be guided by circumstances. My first care was
to try and direct their attention to something new, and to get rid of
the temptation there was to dispose of my goods; so without a moment’s
delay, I commenced a trade in horses; but every horse I bought during
that and the following day, as well as those we had brought with
us, were instantly driven out of sight, in the midst of yelling and
jeering: nevertheless, I continued to trade while an article remained,
putting the best face on things I could, and taking no notice of their
conduct, as no insult or violence had as yet been offered to ourselves
personally. Two days and nights had now elapsed since our arrival,
without food or sleep; the Indians refused us the former, our own
anxiety deprived us of the latter.
“During the third day I discovered that the two women were to have been
either killed or taken from us and made slaves. So surrounded were we
for miles on every side, that we could not stir unobserved; yet we had
to devise some means for their escape, and to get them clear of the
camp was a task of no ordinary difficulty and danger. In this critical
conjuncture, however, something had to be done, and that without delay.
One of them had a child at the breast, which increased the difficulty.
To attempt sending them back by the road they came, would have been
sacrificing them. To attempt an unknown path through the rugged
mountains, however doubtful the issue, appeared the only prospect
that held out a glimpse of hope; therefore, to this mode of escape I
directed their attention. As soon as it was dark, they set out on their
forlorn adventure without food, guide, or protection, to make their way
home, under a kind Providence!
“‘You are to proceed,’ said I to them, ‘due north, cross the mountains,
and keep in that direction till you fall on the Pisscows River; take
the first canoe you find, and proceed with all diligence down to the
mouth of it and there await our arrival. But if we are not there on
the fourth day, you may proceed to Oakanagan, and tell your story.’
With these instructions we parted; and with but little hopes of our
ever meeting again. I had no sooner set about getting the women off,
than the husbands expressed a wish to accompany them; the desire was
natural, yet I had to oppose it. This state of things distracted my
attention: my eyes had now to be on my own people as well as on the
Indians, as I was apprehensive they would desert. ‘There is no hope
for the women by going alone,’ said the husbands, ‘no hope for us by
remaining here: we might as well be killed in the attempt to escape, as
remain to be killed here,’ ‘No,’ said I, ‘by remaining here we do our
duty; by going we should be deserting our duty.’ To this remonstrance
they made no reply. The Indians soon perceived that they had been
outwitted. They turned over our baggage, and searched in every hole and
corner. Disappointment creates ill humor: it was so with the Indians.
They took the men’s guns out of their hands, fired them off at their
feet, and then, with savage laughter, laid them down again; took their
hats off their heads, and after strutting about with these for some
time, jeeringly gave them back to their owners: all this time, they
never interfered with me, but I felt that every insult offered to my
men was an indirect insult offered to myself.
“The day after the women went off, I ordered one of the men to try and
cook something for us; for hitherto we had eaten nothing since our
arrival, except a few raw roots which we managed to get unobserved. But
the kettle was no sooner on the fire than five or six spears bore off,
in savage triumph, the contents: they even emptied out the water, and
threw the kettle on one side; and this was no sooner done than thirty
or forty ill-favored wretches fired a volley in the embers before us,
which caused a cloud of smoke and ashes to ascend, darkening the air
around us: a strong hint not to put the kettle any more on the fire,
and we took it.