the Missouri, and this done they cached their precious skiff, burying
it under the willows on the south bank of the Yellowstone, close to its
junction with the Missouri.
Almost at once they found themselves in a country of abundant game,
and of this game the antelope chiefly impressed the author. Of them he
said: “These march in line, sometimes for several miles together, and,
by imitating the movements of their leader, exhibit the most striking
effects, resembling military evolutions: they simultaneously whirl
round their white breasts and red flanks, like the ‘Right face!--Left
face!’ of a regiment on parade. Obedient to the motions of their
leader, when he stops, all stop: he stamps and advances a step, the
slight similar impulse waves all down along the line; he then gives a
right wheel, and round go all their heads for one last look; finally,
he gives the right face about, and away ‘their ranks break up like
clouds before a Biscay gale.’ Stately wapiti wandered on the plain,
feeding not far from the willows, to whose friendly shelter in they
crashed the moment we presented ourselves to their view. And as we
approached steep frowning cliffs, overhanging the river, I saw, for
the first time, the wild sheep or grosse corne of the Rocky Mountains,
balancing themselves, chamois-like, on the tops of most inaccessible
crags, whither they had rushed on first catching sight of us.” He
repeats the ancient fable that the sheep horns are so large and solid
as to enable the animal to safely fling himself on his head from
considerable heights.
He made a hunt for this new game and succeeded in killing a great ram,
while Boucharville got two lambs, at this season much better food than
the ram, for the sheep in early spring, feeding largely on the wild
leeks, often tastes of this so strongly as to be almost uneatable.
In this land of plenty the party had a pleasant, easy time and lived
like fighting-cocks. Palliser’s clothing by this time was falling to
pieces, and he was obliged to replace it by a coat made of an elk-skin,
and trousers of the hides of blacktail deer. While in camp here Indians
appeared on the other side of the river, but did not discover the
hunters. However, the half-breed Paquenode, who appears to have been a
natural coward, was frightened nearly to death and even tried to seize
the best horse in the party in order to run away.
It was now late in May, and Palliser determined to build some boats and
return to Fort Union, and then, taking up the skiff buried at the mouth
of the Yellowstone, to row down to the Minitarée Fort about two hundred
and eighty miles. The skeletons of the boats were made of willows, and
these frames covered with bull-hides. After the canoes were loaded,
Palliser and Boucharville occupied the first boat and towed the
second. He sent the other men back to Fort Union with the horses.
Late one evening, as they were floating down the river, they heard
voices, and presently passed an Indian camp unobserved, and landing a
little below it quietly returned to the vicinity and found the party
to consist of two old men, an old woman, and ten young people. After a
little observation, the two white men walked into the Crow camp, where
the terrified children ran away screaming. The fears of the Indians
were soon allayed, for Boucharville could talk Crow, and the relations
between the two parties became very cordial.
While at Fort Union Palliser sent his horses by an Indian friend down
to Fort Berthold, while he, with two of his three men, raised the
buried skiff and started down the river. On their way an attack was
threatened by a war-party of Indians, while the men were out looking
for mountain sheep. Boucharville and Palliser retreated to the camp and
there took up a position in the timber, and the Indians, after some
threatening demonstrations, made up their minds that the position was
too strong to be attacked and moved off. Later, the travellers came
upon two white trappers whose arms had become useless and who were then
engaged in making bows and arrows with which to kill game. These two,
Gardépée and Dauphin, were competent young men and made a valuable
addition to the party. It was only the next day when Palliser, while
skinning a deer that he had killed, was called by Dauphin, and as he
ran toward him and passed over a hill he saw a bear standing on his
hind legs looking about him, while Dauphin, hidden behind a rock, was
industriously snapping his useless pistol at the bear. When he saw
Palliser the bear ran, but was brought back by Dauphin, who imitated
the call of a buffalo-calf, so that Palliser shot at him, but only hit
him in the flank.
“The bear clawed at the spot where the ball struck him, and charged
up to within twenty paces of us, while I was reloading; whereupon
Dauphin snapped his pistol again at him without effect. Fortunately
for us, Bruin was only a two-year-old, and afraid to rush in, though
large enough to have smashed both of us, defenceless as we were at the
moment, and, before I could get on my percussion cap, bolted over the
brow of the hill. I was still so thoroughly blown from my run over the
rocky ground, that I gave up my heavy rifle to Dauphin, who threw down
the useless pistol, and started in chase, I following him. He soon
got a shot at the bear, who turned round, clawed at the wound, gave a
savage growl, and ran into one of those little clumps which always mark
a watercourse in the hilly country. I took the rifle again, loaded, and
pursued the enemy right into the clump, in spite of the remonstrances
of Dauphin, and, getting a sight of him first, gave him a finishing
shot between eye and ear. Although he was but a young bear, only in
his third year, it was with great difficulty that we could drag him
out; he measured five feet four inches from rump to the muzzle, and
his claws were three inches and three-quarters long. Had he been fully
grown, and possessed of that amount of courage and ferocity with which
the old grisly bears, both male and female, are endowed, it would
certainly have fared badly with us that day. However, we skinned our
prize with great satisfaction; and I was exceedingly pleased with the
pluck and daring of my companion, who had been twice charged by the
bear, and whose pistol had twice snapped.”
A day or two later Palliser and Dauphin had a fine buffalo-chase
which led them a long way. They started in pursuit of a new-born
buffalo-calf, and this is what happened:
“The cow, of course, went off, and at a tolerable pace, followed by
the calf, at an astonishing rate for so young a beast. Dauphin wanted
to shoot the mother, in order not only to shorten the race, but to
increase our chance of rearing the calf, by cutting off the cow’s
udder when dead; but that, of course, I would not allow, and ended the
discussion by knocking up the muzzle of the rifle which he was using
with the barrel of my gun. Then bidding him follow my example, I threw
down my gun to lighten myself, calling on Boucharville to take care of
the two; and drawing our belts a hole tighter, we dashed off again up
hill and down dale, till at last we stretched away right out along
the prairie for five or six miles. By-and-by the little calf began
to shows symptoms of failing, and the cow, allowing her instinct of
self-preservation to overcome her maternal attachment, made the best of
her way off, and crossing some inequalities in the ground, was lost to
the sight of her offspring. The little fellow then stopped; whereupon
Dauphin, who possessed a wonderful facility for imitating the calls
of animals, immediately began to grunt like a buffalo-cow, and to our
great amusement the little beast turned about, cocked up his tail,
and came galloping back to us. We then turned about, and to our great
delight it frisked round us all the way into the camp. I was most
anxious to get it to the fort as early as possible, for I knew that if
I could do so in time, I might by chance be able to rear it on pounded
Indian corn and lukewarm water.”
The next day another calf was captured out of a herd which was crossing
the river, and now Palliser had a pair which he hoped he might succeed
in getting to Europe--as later he did. For the first day or two of
their captivity these little calves were fed on strong broth, but there
were domestic cows at the fort and these reared the calves.
Shortly after Palliser’s arrival at the fort, Mr. Chardon died, having
first requested Palliser to write his will. Boucharville, when sounded
on the question of making another hunt, declared that he would go
wherever Palliser wished to; and the next day they took the horses
across the river with the skiff, intending to hunt up the Little
Missouri River and to look for grizzly bears in the Turtle Mountains.
On the fourth day of their journey from Fort Berthold they reached the
Turtle Mountains. Here they found a war lodge, built by a party of
Minitarées the year before, and took possession of it. Boucharville, an
experienced man, did not like to remain in this debatable land, which
was on the border of the Sioux and Minitarée territory, and began at
once to figure on when they could get away.
[Illustration: “JUST AS HE WAS PUTTING A COPPER CAP ON THE NIPPLE THE
BEAR ROSE ON HER HIND LEGS”]
Here bear, antelope, elk, and sheep were extremely abundant and food
was always plentiful. One day while Palliser was beginning to skin
an elk, just killed, Boucharville, who was about to clean his gun,
was charged by a grizzly, and escaped her by dashing into a clump
of rose-bushes. The bear, which had cubs with her, charged after
Palliser, who was running toward his horse, which he feared would be
lost if it smelt the bear. When he reached the horse he stopped and
faced the bear, which also stopped and stood up, and then turned and
ran. Palliser shot at the bear, but hit her too far back. She stopped
to bite at her wound and gave him time to load again. Just as he was
putting a copper cap on the nipple the bear rose on her hind legs,
and he sent a bullet through her heart. Palliser was very lucky in
that his horse did not pull back or shy, and that there was nothing to
disturb his aim. When the horse was brought to the bear and the skin
put upon him, he paid no attention and showed no signs of fear, a
very unusual thing, for horses are commonly very much afraid even of
bear-skins.
After they reached camp Dauphin started out to capture one of the young
bears, but as Palliser thought the chances of finding them were very
slight he did not go with him, but afterward regretted this. Dauphin
killed one of the little bears and tried to take the other alive, but
it fought fiercely, tearing his clothes and cutting him with its claws.
Dauphin had armed himself with a stout club, but, even so, had done no
more than make a draw of the battle. They now started back toward the
Little Missouri and on the way saw a bear, which, to Palliser’s very
great disgust, was lost by the eagerness of Dauphin.
At the Little Missouri Palliser went duck-shooting with his smooth-bore
gun, but coming on the old carcass of a bull found all about it large
bear tracks, some of which looked very fresh. He drew his charges of
shot and rammed down a couple of balls, and followed the tracks from
the prairie until at last he discovered a large bear walking slowly
along. “I approached as near as I could without his perceiving me,
and, lying down, tried Dauphin’s plan of imitating the lowing of a
buffalo-calf. On hearing the sounds, he rose up, displaying such
gigantic proportions as almost made my heart fail me; I croaked again,
when, perceiving me, he came cantering slowly up. I felt that I was
in for it, and that escape was impossible, even had I declined the
combat; so cocking both barrels of my Trulock, I remained kneeling
until he approached very near, when I suddenly stood up, upon which the
bear, with an indolent roaring grunt, raised himself once more upon
his hind-legs, and just at the moment when he was balancing himself
previously to springing on me, I fired, aiming close under his chin:
the ball passing through his throat, broke the vertebræ of the neck,
and down he tumbled, floundering like a great fish out of water, till
at length he reluctantly expired. I drew a long breath as I uncocked my
left barrel, feeling right glad at the successful issue of the combat.
I walked round and round my huge prize, surveying his proportions with
great delight; but as it came on to rain, I was obliged to lose no time
in skinning him. I got soaked through before I succeeded in removing
his tremendous hide, and then found it too heavy for me to take away;
so I was obliged to return to camp without the trophy of my conquest.
It was dark when I arrived. Boucharville and Dauphin had built a most
comfortable little hut of logs and bark, and having laid down the skins
and spread our beds inside, with the saddles at our heads for pillows,
and a good roaring fire outside at our feet, we fell heartily to our
supper of elk meat and coffee.
“At daybreak next morning I repaired on horseback to the scene of my
conflict with the bear, and found, to my great delight, on my arrival
at the spot, that neither the skin nor the carcass of the bear had
been touched by the wolves. This fact confirmed to me the testimony
of the hunters and trappers of these parts, as to the great awe in
which the grisly bear is held by the wolves and lesser animals of prey.
If a bear kills an animal, or finds a dead carcass on the prairie,
he appropriates it; and though many a hungry prowler passing by may
look wistfully at the choice morsel, it is like the eastern monarch’s
share,’taboo’; and even when the mountain monarch is absent, the
print of his paw is a seal sufficient for its security. It cost me
considerable exertion to place the reeking hide on my saddle; but I
succeeded at last, and climbing on the top of it, lighted my pipe and
rode back into camp. Riding along, towards noon we descried another
bear, a lean, hungry-looking monster, prowling about searching for
_pommes blanches_, and, to judge from his appearance, likely to afford
us a pretty severe fight. In approaching him, we did not take any
precaution to avoid giving him our wind, concluding, from my former
experience, that he would not decline the combat; but in this instance
I was mistaken, for rushing away down a ravine, he was soon lost to our
view. This result, although it disappointed me at the time, yet gave me
a further insight into the disposition and habits of the animal, and
agreed with the accounts I had heard from many hunters and trappers
with whom I had previously conversed on the subject; namely, that a
grisly bear will, in most instances, run away from a man on getting
his wind, unless previously wounded, or under such circumstances as to
make him think that he cannot escape. Old Mr. Kipp, of Fort Union,
told me that once, when on one of his numerous journeys from the
States, he was in the Indian country, and had gone out of camp with his
double-barrelled gun to look for ducks; he was seen from a distance
by a grisly bear, who came cantering towards him. The day was fine,
and the old gentleman did not know which way the wind blew, but had
sufficient presence of mind to pluck off some of the woolly material of
which his blue blanket capote was composed, and throw it into the air;
and marking the direction of the current ran a little distance round,
till he got full in the line of it, and then stood bolt upright facing
Bruin, who rose on his hind-legs for a moment, surveying the tough old
man, and then shuffled off, shaking his head as if he considered him
meat rather too savoury for his palate.”
There were other adventures with grizzly bears and Palliser recounts a
story told by Boucharville about a bear which sprang upon the leading
bull of a herd of buffalo and killed it. Other accounts have been given
of such battles where the bull killed the bear.
The time for Palliser’s return was now at hand, and loading his
skins into boats made of buffalo-hide he floated down the river to
the Minitarée post, where James Dawson the old fur trader was now in
charge. A little later, boarding the Fur Company’s steamer “Martha,” he
took his way with all his trophies down the river and at last reached
St. Louis, and his prairie hunt was over.
The publication of his book, _The Solitary Hunter_, had unexpected
results. Some time after its appearance, the British Colonial Office
chose Palliser to command an expedition to explore British North
America and to topographically determine the boundary line between the
British possessions and the United States, from Lake Superior west to
the Cascade Range. This expedition was in the field for three years
or more. Papers reporting its progress were published by Parliament
in 1859, and finally, about 1863, the British Government published
Palliser’s detailed journal, containing reports on the geography,
agricultural resources, and commercial possibilities of far western
America. Later Palliser was a magistrate for County Waterford and, for
a time, served as high sheriff of that county.
THE COUNCIL AT FORT BENTON
William T. Hamilton, who died in 1908, was perhaps the very last
survivor of that old-time race of trappers whose courage, skill,
and endurance led to the discovery, exploration, and settlement of
that vast territory which we now call the Empire of the West. He
left St. Louis in 1842 with a company of free trappers led by Bill
Williams--famous in those days--and for many years thereafter led the
wild, adventurous, and independent life of the mountain man. With the
coming of the railroads and the settlement of the country that life
ended, but in 1907, at the age of eighty-five, he still lived among the
mountains of Montana, and still made his annual trapping trips, keeping
up the habits that he had practised for sixty-five years.
“Uncle” Bill Hamilton, as he was long and affectionately known, was
one of Montana’s first citizens, and the residents of that State
were proud of his long experience, his wide knowledge of the life of
the early days, and his extraordinary skill as a sign talker. A good
mountain man is, of course, a keen observer, but Hamilton possessed
also a retentive memory which enabled him in his later years to make
valuable contributions to the history of the early West, which have
been recorded in the proceedings of the Montana Historical Society,
in his book _My Sixty Years on the Plains_, published in 1905, and in
the present account, which was published in _Forest and Stream_ in the
spring of 1907.
It was in the year 1855 that Governor I. I. Stephens, called by the
Indians “The Short Man,” made, at the mouth of the Judith River, the
first treaty with the Indians of northern Montana. The object of this
treaty was to bring about a general peace among the different tribes,
which had long been at war with one another. Like many efforts of this
kind, the treaty had no lasting effect.
This story deals with another attempt to put an end to intertribal
wars made ten years later, in 1865, by General Francis Meagher and
other commissioners. William T. Hamilton was sent out to try to induce
the various tribes to come into Fort Benton and attend this council.
Some of the tribes were brought in and a treaty was made, but it did
not last long. The account which follows is crowded with the lore of
the plains--information as to the way in which in old times people
travelled through a hostile country. Those who read it with attention,
will learn much about the ways of Indians and the ways of those who
fought Indians.
[Illustration: WILLIAM T. HAMILTON]
This is Bill Hamilton’s story of the Council at Fort Benton:
The Territory of Montana was organized in 1864. Green Clay Smith was
appointed its first governor, and General Francis Meagher became acting
governor with supervision over all Indians.
From 1863 to 1865 a chronic state of warfare existed between all
the Indian tribes in the Territory. In the course of this warfare,
miners and freighters had sustained serious losses in stock, and many
miners and cattle-herders had been killed by the Indians. There was no
protection for life and property. At the mouth of the Judith River,
fifty miles east of Benton, was stationed one company of soldiers,
but they were infantry and could render no protection against mounted
Indians.
In 1864 I sold my place at Missoula, and moved to Benton--the head
of navigation for the Missouri River steam-boats, which carried all
the supplies of every description needed by the rapidly increasing
population, which was rushing into the Territory attracted by fabulous
reports which were constantly being circulated of the discovery of rich
placer and quartz mines.
When I arrived at Benton it was almost impossible to get anything to
eat, and I determined that I would start a hotel. I built a log house,
hired a cook, and a negro for a waiter, gave fifty dollars for an old
stove, bought and borrowed all the cups, knives, forks, and tin plates
that I could get from the Fur Company employees, and opened my hotel at
one dollar per meal. I bought some beef steers and slaughtered one on
the river bank. Two whiskey barrels on end, with three slabs on them,
set up by the hotel, formed the counter of a butcher shop, the first
one opened in Chouteau County, Montana Territory. I sold beef at twenty
cents and twenty-five cents per pound, disposing of from one to five
beeves daily to boats and freighters. Presently I was obliged to hire a
butcher and a herder.
In the spring of 1865 the governor appointed me sheriff of Chouteau
County, which was about as large as the State of New York. I was also
appointed deputy United States marshal. At this time the population
was a mixed and motley combination. There were some trappers and free
traders, good men; but the remainder were Fur Company employees, in
all about forty-five men. There were some half-breeds, but none of
them could be trusted except one, Joe Kipp. The Northwest Fur Company
had bought out the old Fur Company and had put I. G. Baker in charge.
Carroll and Steele, former clerks of the old company, had opened a
store in Benton, and T. C. Power afterward opened one.
Through the Territorial delegate, the United States Government was
asked to protect the inhabitants of the Territory against Indians, and
the following occurrences were a part of the effort to secure such
protection. A commission of three persons was appointed to consider
this subject. It consisted of Acting Governor Meagher, Judge Munson,
and E. W. Carpenter. They arrived at Benton early in September, and
after holding a council determined that the Piegans, Bloods, Blackfeet,
Gros Ventres, and Crow Indians must be brought into Benton and there
induced to make a permanent and lasting peace. Runners were sent out
inviting the Blackfeet tribes to come in, but no one could be found who
would undertake to hunt up and bring in the Crows and Gros Ventres.
At this season the country between the Missouri and Yellowstone Rivers
was usually overrun by war parties of Sioux, Cheyennes, Arapahoes, and
Blackfeet, making travel exceedingly dangerous for any one, even for an
experienced prairie man.
While they were trying to find a man to make this trip, some one
suggested to the commissioners that I was accustomed to travelling
anywhere, and they might get me. They sent, asking me to call on them
at the agency, which was then at Benton, and when I came, the governor
said: “Sheriff, we want a man to go and get the Crow and Gros Ventres
Indians to come to Benton and meet us in council. Will you go and get
them for us? We are informed that you can and do travel anywhere on the
plains.”
“Yes, I do,” I answered, “if I have special business of my own to
attend to.”
The governor said: “The government is anxious to bring about a
general peace between these warring tribes, and also to put an end to
hostilities against the white people. In a few days a steamboat load of
goods will arrive, to be given as presents to all Indians who meet us
in council. We want you to go and bring in these tribes.”
“But,” I said to him, “how can I go? I have to look after my eating
house, the butcher shop, the duties of sheriff, and of marshal. I have
two prisoners on hand and no jail in which to confine them.”
But they kept on talking and persuading until I saw that, as the
Western phrase has it, they were going to get me into a jack pot. To
cut it short, they prevailed on me to undertake the mission to bring in
the two tribes.