have seen the comparative merits of the two meats tested by Europeans,
Americans, and Indians at the same time, and heard the unanimous
verdict in favour of the wild bison.”
It is worth noting that Indians who are old enough to have known
buffalo all declare that the flesh of domestic cattle tastes badly and
has an evil smell. This, to be sure, may mean no more than that the
flesh and fat have an unusual taste and smell, which is disagreeable,
because unusual. Probably, however, no one who has habitually eaten
buffalo meat but will acknowledge that it is far more tender and
delicate than the flesh of domestic cattle.
During the winter hunting was continuous. Indians constantly came
to the post to trade or to beg. An interesting visitor was old Bill
Williams, a famous trapper of that day, who had long been believed
dead. He was one of a party attacked by Blackfeet, when all except
Williams had been killed.
[Illustration: “BISON AND BULL, NOW IN MORTAL COMBAT, MET MIDWAY WITH A
SHOCK THAT MADE THE EARTH TREMBLE”]
This winter Palliser witnessed a fight between the Sioux and the
Assiniboines which seems to have resulted in a draw, though one Sioux
was killed. These Sioux, by the way, were very troublesome and had shot
many of the milch cows, and, more serious than all, a fine thoroughbred
bull which belonged at the post.
“The loss of this handsome, noble animal was universally regretted in
the fort, for besides his great value as their only means of continuing
the breed of domestic cattle in that remote region, he proved most
useful in drawing home many a heavy load of meat, and much of the wood
for the fuel in the fort; as a tribute to his memory, I must here
record a single combat of his with a bison, which, according to the
description of his keeper, ‘Black Joseph,’ must have been truly Homeric.
“About three months previous to my arrival at Fort Union, and in the
height of the buffalo breeding season, when their bulls are sometimes
very fierce, Joe was taking the Fort Union bull, with a cart, into a
point on the river above the fort, in order to draw home a load of
wood, which had been previously cut and piled ready for transportation
the day before, when a very large old bison bull stood right in the
cart track, pawing up the earth, and roaring, ready to dispute the
passage with him. On a nearer approach, instead of flying at the sight
of the man that accompanied the cart, the bison made a headlong charge.
Joe had barely time to remove his bull’s head-stall and escape up a
tree, being utterly unable to assist his four-footed friend, whom
he left to his own resources. Bison and bull, now in mortal combat,
met midway with a shock that made the earth tremble. Our previously
docile gentle animal suddenly became transformed into a furious beast,
springing from side to side, whirling round as the buffalo attempted
to take him in flank, alternately upsetting and righting the cart
again, which he banged from side to side, and whirled about as if it
had been a band-box. Joe, safe out of harm’s way, looked down from the
tree at his champion’s proceedings, at first deploring the apparent
disadvantage he laboured under, from being harnessed to a cart; but
when the fight had lasted long and furious, and it was evident that
both combatants had determined that one or other of them must fall,
his eyes were opened to the value of the protection afforded by the
harness, and especially by the thick strong shafts of the cart against
the short horns of the bison, who, although he bore him over and over
again down on his haunches, could not wound him severely. On the
other hand, the long sharp horns of the brave Fort Union bull began to
tell on the furrowed sides of his antagonist, until the final charge
brought the bison, with a furious bound, dead under our hero’s feet,
whose long fine-drawn horn was deep driven into his adversary’s heart.
With a cheer that made the woods ring again, down clambered Joe, and
while triumphantly caressing, also carefully examined his chivalrous
companion, who, although bruised, blown, and covered with foam, had
escaped uninjured.
“It required all Joe’s nigger eloquence to persuade the bull to leave
the slain antagonist, over whom he long stood watching, evidently
expecting him to get up again to renew the combat, Joe all the time
coaxing him forward with, ‘Him dear good bull, him go home now, and do
no more work to-day,’ which prospect, black Joe, in common with all his
sable brethren, considered as the acme of sublunary felicity.”
During this winter the people at Fort Union were attacked by an
epidemic which laid up many of them. Those who were not incapacitated
by illness were, therefore, obliged to hunt the harder to supply the
post with food, for in that country and at that time food meant meat
almost exclusively. Buffalo-running in winter is often hard work, and
when to the winter weather are added the difficulties of deep snow,
the work becomes not only hard but dangerous. Some incidents of a
winter run are given in Palliser’s account of his killing some meat
four or five miles from the post. He “had a splendid run, flooring
a cow and wounding a bull, which I left for the present, and then
stretching away at full speed, I pursued after another uncommonly fine
fat cow. She gave me an awful chase, turning and doubling incessantly.
My little horse was sorely at a disadvantage in the snow and began to
show symptoms of distress; but I could not manage to get a broadside
shot. At last making one more push, I got pretty close behind her and
raising myself in my stirrups fired down upon her.... She dropped at
the report, the bullet breaking her spine. My little horse, unable to
stop himself, rolled right over her, making a complete somersault,
and sending me, gun and all, flying clean over both of them into a
snowdrift. I leaped up, ran back to my horse, which I caught without
much difficulty, and was glad to find no more hurt than myself. My gun
was filled with snow, of course, but otherwise uninjured.”
The friendly relations between the domestic cattle and the buffalo
caused Palliser much surprise, for he was unaware that cattle and
buffalo associate intimately and sometimes interbreed.
Cases have been recorded where buffalo in their stampede have carried
off considerable numbers of cattle, which became as wild as the buffalo
with which they associated. Another point new to Palliser, and perhaps
not well understood by naturalists at present, is the fact that buffalo
do not, as a rule, use their hoofs to remove the snow from the ground,
but push the snow aside with the nose. Palliser says: “I was still more
astonished, on attentively observing this friendly intercourse, to see
our little calves apparently preferring the companionship of the bison,
particularly that of the most colossal bulls, to that of their own
species. I took an opportunity one morning of investigating the reason
of this more closely, and availing myself of some broken ground, beyond
which I saw three of our poor little half-starved calves in company
with two gigantic bulls, I crept up very carefully, and lay under the
brow of a hill, not fifty yards from the nearest in order to observe
them, and was not long in discovering that the bison has the power of
removing the snow with his admirably-shaped shovel-nose so as to obtain
the grass underneath it. His little companions, unable to remove the
frozen obstacle for themselves, were thankfully and fearlessly feeding
in his wake; the little heads of two of them visible every now and
then, contesting an exposed morsel under his very beard. It was an
interesting sight, and I crept softly away again, so as not to disturb
them.
“Although the bison scrapes the snow with his nose, I do not think he
does so with his hoofs. I have frequently seen the snow, where buffalo
have been feeding, stained with slight signs of blood, and after having
shot them, found the noses of both cow and bull sore from the constant
shovelling.”
Buffalo-hunting was not without its excitement. On a certain day, for
example, with an Indian, he killed three bulls, one of which was shot
four times, and though seeming very weak did not fall, so that Palliser
determined to finish him.
“Walking up therefore to within thirty paces of him, till I could
actually see his eyes rolling, I fired for the fourth time directly at
the region of the heart, as I thought, but to my utter amazement up
went his tail and down went his head, and with a speed that I thought
him little capable of, he was upon me in a twinkling. I ran hard
for it but he rapidly overhauled me, and my situation was becoming
anything but pleasant. Thinking he might, like our own bulls, shut
the eyes in making a charge, I swerved suddenly to one side to escape
the shock, but, to my horror, I failed in dodging him, for he bolted
round quicker than I did, and affording me barely time to protect my
stomach with the stock of my rifle, and to turn myself sideways as I
sustained the charge, in the hopes of getting between his horns, he
came plump upon me with a shock like an earthquake. My rifle-stock
was shivered to pieces by one horn, my clothes torn by the other;
I flew into mid-air, scattering my prairie-hens and rabbits, which
had hitherto hung dangling by leathern thongs from my belt, in all
directions, till landing at last, I fell unhurt in the snow, and almost
over me--fortunately not quite--rolled my infuriated antagonist, and
subsided in a snowdrift. I was luckily not the least injured, the force
of the blow having been perfectly deadened by the enormous mass of
fur, wool, and hair, that clothed his shaggy head-piece.”
It was here that Palliser saw his first elk, which he describes with
great detail, and whose whistle in the breeding season he declares to
be the most beautiful sound in all the animal creation; it is like the
sound of an enormous soft flute, uttered in a most coaxing tone.
In his hunting in the buffalo range, where, of course, wolves were
most abundant, Palliser, as might be supposed, saw many wolves. He
speaks with enthusiasm of the splendid white skins which he secured and
brought into the post. In several cases he observes that wolves will
eagerly devour the carcasses of their own kind. He notes also that they
sometimes sleep so soundly that a man may walk up quite close to them.
This is something that happened occasionally to all hunters. A hunting
companion on one occasion walked to within a few feet of a sleeping
deer, and commented in low tones to his companion on the soundness of
its slumbers.
During this winter at Fort Union Palliser purchased a mongrel hauling,
or travois, dog, sired by a white wolf. The animal was particularly shy
of white men, and the old woman who sold it was obliged to catch the
dog twice and deliver it a second time. Palliser wanted the dog to haul
his travois on a journey he was about to make with two voyageurs. His
companions had a pair of mules harnessed to a sleigh. He notes that the
mules, of course, must be fed on cottonwood bark, since the grass was
now deeply covered with snow. Palliser’s dog--Ishmah by name--like his
master, had to depend for food on the rifle. Shortly after starting,
Palliser and his two companions separated, he and the dog to go up the
river to Fort Mackenzie alone. He travelled chiefly on the ice, using
due care to avoid the air-holes which are so frequent and so dangerous,
and never leaving the river for any great distance. In the valley,
shelter from the terrible storms of the high prairie may always be
found. Here the two companions, who by this time had come thoroughly to
understand each other, found the journey comfortable and very pleasant.
Ishmah’s friendly relation with the wolves was sometimes very annoying,
for often he ran off and played with the young wolves, chasing and
being chased by them in turn. One afternoon, however, Ishmah followed
a wolf off on the prairie, dragging behind him the travois loaded with
everything that Palliser then possessed. He followed, shouting, but
the dog had disappeared, and darkness soon obliged the owner to turn
back toward the river. He was a long way from timber and all about
him was a vast barren waste of snow. The situation was anything but
agreeable. “I was about one hundred miles from any known habitation,
and nearly one hundred and fifty from my destination, destitute of robe
and blankets, with but very little powder in my horn, and only two
bullets in my pouch. In short, I was in a pretty considerable sort
of a ‘fix,’ and had nothing for it but to make tracks again with all
speed for the timber. Fortunately, I found my way back to the river
without much difficulty. It was a beautiful moonlight night, which
enabled me to collect some fallen wood, and having lighted a fire,
I seated myself beside it, and began to consider the probabilities
of my ever reaching a trading-post alive, in the event of Ishmah not
returning, and how I should economise my ammunition and increase my
rate of travelling so as to effect this object. My prospects were
dismal enough, nor did I feel cheered as the cold north breeze froze
the perspiration which had run down my forehead and face, and formed
icicles in my beard and whiskers, that jingled like bells as I shook
my head in dismissing from my mind one project after another. At last
resigning myself to my fate I took out my pipe, determined to console
myself with a smoke, when, alas! on feeling for tobacco I found that
was gone too. This was the climax of my misfortune! I looked to the
north star and calculated by the position of the Plough that it must
have been about ten o’clock, the time at which in England we have our
knees under the mahogany, surrounded by friends, discussing a bottle of
the best, and awaiting the summons to tea in the drawing-room. I tried
to see a faint similarity to the steam of the tea-urn in the smoke from
the snow-covered wood on my dreary fire, and endeavoured to trace the
forms of sweet familiar faces in the embers, till I almost heard the
rustling of fresh white crepe dresses round me, when, hark! I did hear
a rustle--it approaches nearer, nearer, and I recognize the scraping
of Ishmah’s travail on the snow; another moment and the panting rascal
was by my side! I never felt so relieved, and laughed out loud from
sheer joy, as I noticed the consciousness he showed by his various
cringing movements of having behaved very badly. I was too well
pleased, however, at his reappearance to beat him, particularly when I
found nothing of his harness and load either missing or injured in the
slightest degree. Even the portion of meat which I had secured from the
last deer I shot was untouched; so that I had nothing to do but unpack
the travail, make my bed, and cook our supper.”
[Illustration: ISHMAH, THE TRAVOIS DOG]
Palliser was greatly interested in the Indians that he saw, and tried
to understand something of their ways of thought. He quotes a woman
whom he called to look through a telescope as saying: “The white man
know of this--here she moved her hand as if writing--what happens very
far off, and with this--touching the telescope--they see what is a long
way off; now have they invented anything by which they can hear what is
saying a long way off?” This seems a more or less reasonable inquiry
for the telephone of modern times.
It was at White River Post that Palliser met an Indian who later became
one of his best friends and of whom he had much to say. They hunted
together and on their first hunt killed a fine wolf which made them
several meals. Palliser was unwilling to eat this food until he saw the
relish with which his companion was consuming it; but having made the
first step and learning how toothsome it was, he hesitated no longer.
Hunting was constantly kept up during the winter, for life depended
on it. The weather was, as usual, uncertain. Palliser, whose stock
of copper caps had run low, now went from the White River Post to
Larpenteur’s Post on Knife River with a party which McKenzie was
sending to Fort Union. He wished also to visit Mr. Chardon, who was
in command at the Minitaree Fort. The party set out on a fine sunny
morning, and the heat was so great that one of them--Frederick--who was
stout, walked in his shirt-sleeves puffing and blowing like a grampus.
At the Grand Detour--the Big Bend--they attempted to make the
cut-off, which is only fourteen miles across, instead of following
the river-bank for about forty miles. Palliser tried to persuade his
companions to go the long way, showing them what a bad position they
would be in if caught in a snow-storm on the prairie. However, the
Indians believed that spring had come, and they started and finally
camped on a little stream in the bed of which the snow was deeply
drifted.
“Night was then coming on, and it began to rain slightly; but we
brightened up the fire again, little knowing what was in store for
us. Shortly after dark the wind veered round to the north-east,
accompanied by snow, and at last it blew so hard as to oblige us to
put out the lire, especially on account of the gunpowder. Owing to our
exposed situation, the wind mercilessly drove sparks, and even lighted
brands, whirling amongst us, turn which way we would, as the eddies of
wind drove furiously down the gullies against our little encampment
from all points of the compass. Old Peekay and his wife collected
every blanket and skin they could muster. I seized my buffalo-robe and
blankets, called Ishmah to me, round whom I put my arms, and hugging
him close to my breast, shivered through the night.
“Never shall I forget the horrible hours of suspense I passed,
expecting every instant the feeling of sleep to overpower me, knowing
the fatal consequences and fearing an inability to resist it. I found
my faithful dog an invaluable friend, and really believe he was the
means of saving my life; for I seemed to feel the caloric, as it issued
from him, preserve my body from turning into stone. Day at last dawned,
and the wind abated. We contrived to move to a less-exposed situation,
where we lighted a roaring fire, and warmed ourselves, then renewed
our journey, reaching the opposite extremity of the Grand Detour by
nightfall.
“Our supper that night was a very scanty one of dried buffalo-meat, the
last of the provision with which Martin had supplied us. As for the
unfortunate dogs that accompanied the Indian Peekay and his squaw,
they, poor wretches had not eaten a morsel for weeks; and so awful an
array of starved spectres never were seen.”
Fortunately, the next day a bull was killed, and, wonderfully enough,
by an old Indian who that morning had made a special prayer for food.
The Indian was old and infirm and had not fired a gun or killed game
for many years, but certainly in this case his prayer was answered.
Palliser found Mr. Chardon very ill with a violent attack of
rheumatism, but extremely glad to receive his guest. To this post a
little later came Boucharville, one of the most celebrated hunters and
trappers of the region. He was a French Canadian of the best type, but
had recently suffered great misfortunes, having lost his horses through
the severity of the winter, had his traps stolen by Indians, barely
escaped capture by a war-party, and finally broken the sight of his
rifle.
This man Palliser engaged to make a trip back to Fort Union and thence
on horseback up the Yellowstone River, intending at the close of the
trip to make bull-hide boats and transport their skins and other
effects back to Fort Union by water. For this trip two additional
men were hired, a stout Canadian named Pérey and a half-breed named
Paquenode. Palliser and Boucharville were to do the hunting; the other
two were to keep the camp, mind the horses, and cook. In the meantime
it was early in April and the wild-fowl were beginning to arrive from
the South. Palliser was keen to shoot some but had no shot. He tried
to manufacture it and finally did so by beating out lead quite flat,
cutting it into little bars, and again cutting these into little cubes
an eighth of an inch each way. These were put in a small metal boiler
in the kitchen of the Fort with some smooth stones and ashes and the
boiler was revolved until the sharp corners were worn off the cubes and
they approached the spherical. With this imperfect ammunition, good
execution was done, for of course the birds were extremely abundant.
III
UP THE YELLOWSTONE RIVER
The ice broke up in the Missouri on the 17th of April, and as the
rising water forced up the ice, the explosion was like distant thunder.
For over thirty hours the river rushed by in a furious torrent,
carrying enormous blocks of ice and roaring with a splendid sound as
the masses passed along, forcing everything before them.
Soon after this the party started for Fort Union. They had very little
food; some dried meat, a little bag of biscuits, some coffee, and a
quart bottle of molasses to sweeten the coffee. During the march they
had opportunities to secure eggs from the nests of the water-fowl,
which were already laying, but even with this help, on the fifth day
they were reduced to one biscuit each.
“Early next morning we were passing along the side of the river, very
hungry, and making a short march with the intention of hunting in the
afternoon. Pérey carried a double-barrelled gun loaded with buck-shot,
and was walking near the pack-horse, Ishmah and his travail following
me, when we were astonished by the sudden appearance of four antelopes
climbing up the bank close at hand. Owing to the steepness of the bank,
they did not come in sight of us until they had reached the summit; the
moment they did so they wheeled round, but not before Pérey fired and
shot one, which rolled down the bank into the water, and was carried
down the stream. Boucharville and I tugged at our gun-covers; his he
could not remove quickly enough; I tore away the thong of mine--which
had run into a knot--with my teeth, and cocked my rifle. By this time
the other three antelopes were swimming away in the broad stream;
a little eddy in the rapid current turned one of them broadside to
me; I fired, hitting the animal between wind and water, behind the
shoulder,--its head drooped, as, floating dead on the surface of the
water, it was carried down the stream after its companion. Pérey then
performed a splendid feat; he ran down the side of the river far enough
to enable him to undress,--which he partly did in running,--jumped
into the half-frozen water, along which the blocks of ice were still
at intervals coursing, striking out boldly, laid his hand on the first
carcass, then with great exertion reached the second as it floated by,
and brought both into the bank: this was the more fortunate, for half a
minute more would have swept them past the bend into the rapids beyond
where the scene occurred, and involved not only the loss of our game,
but a considerable risk to this brave fellow.
“The two antelopes afforded us quite a sufficiency of food to last
until our arrival at Fort Union, which we reached early on the ninth
day after our departure from the Minitarées.”
At Fort Union food was scarce. The Indians camped there were afraid
to venture away from the post to hunt, and immediately about the post
white hunters and Indians had been hunting until all the game had been
killed or driven away.
It did not take long to get together such supplies as might be had for
Palliser’s party--saddles, bridles, ammunition, a couple of traps,
some coffee, sugar, and salt. It was necessary to cross the Missouri
River from north to south below the mouth of the Yellowstone. This
done, a few miles would take them into a land of plenty, a region where
game was abundant; but the crossing would be difficult. The river was
high and the water still cold. While going down the river they were
fortunate enough to see deer and a little later some elk, of which they
secured two. Their abundance now made them think of the starvation back
at Fort Union and, packing up their surplus meat, they took it back
to the fort to exchange for certain much needed things. Among these
things were fishhooks, awls, needles, and, most important of all, an
excellent four-oared skiff.