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JACK, THE YOUNG EXPLORER
_By the same Author_
JACK THE YOUNG COWBOY
JACK THE YOUNG TRAPPER
JACK THE YOUNG CANOEMAN
JACK THE YOUNG EXPLORER
JACK IN THE ROCKIES
JACK AMONG THE INDIANS
JACK THE YOUNG RANCHMAN
PAWNEE HERO STORIES AND FOLK TALES
BLACKFOOT LODGE TALES
THE STORY OF THE INDIAN
THE INDIANS OF TO-DAY
THE PUNISHMENT OF THE STINGY
AMERICAN DUCK SHOOTING
AMERICAN GAME BIRD SHOOTING
TRAILS OF THE PATHFINDERS
[Illustration: “THE TENT WAS SHIVERING AND SHAKING AND FROM IT EMERGED
GROANS AND GROWLS.”--_Page 130_]
JACK
THE YOUNG EXPLORER
_A Boy’s Experiences in the
Unknown Northwest_
BY
GEORGE BIRD GRINNELL
Author of “Jack in the Rockies,” “Jack the Young Ranchman,”
“Jack Among the Indians,” “Pawnee Hero Stories,”
“Jack the Young Trapper,” etc.
[Illustration: colophon]
NEW YORK
FREDERICK A. STOKES COMPANY
PUBLISHERS
Copyright, 1908, by
FREDERICK A. STOKES COMPANY
_September, 1908_
Eighth Printing
_Printed in the United States of America_
FOREWORD
For untold ages the mountain goats had clambered undisturbed along the
face of the steep precipices that overhang the St Mary’s River and Swift
Current. Over the slide rock fallen from their cliffs the wild sheep had
beaten out paths and trails zigzagging from the valley below to the
heights above. On the lower wooded slopes the elk browsed in spring and
fall, climbing high above the timber at the season when the flies were
bad, and again when snows fell at the approach of winter, working their
way down toward the lower lands and the foothills of the prairie. In the
thick swamps and morasses of the river bottom the moose dwelt, sometimes
clambering up toward the heights, but more often escaping the summer
flies by burying their huge bodies beneath the waters of the lakes, or
perhaps by wallowing in some great bog, from which they emerged covered
with black mud which, drying, formed a coating that protected them.
Everywhere through the valleys, on the hillsides, far up on the bald
knolls, and even higher still, where the sheep and goats delighted to
climb, the buffalo of the mountains--called by old mountaineers bison,
to distinguish them from the yellower, sunburned animals of the
plains--wandered singly or in little groups.
These rough and rocky fastnesses protected them well.
The Indians of the plains never tried to pass beneath these gloomy
walls. Occasionally a white man or half-breed, more frequently a little
band of Kootenay or Stoney Indians, true mountaineers, followed up these
rivers for a short distance, hunting the game and trapping the beaver;
but in those days game was so plentiful that these occasional excursions
made no impression on it. The Indians had few guns and hunted
noiselessly, chiefly with bows and arrows. For the most part, it was
easier to kill the buffalo of the plains by the swift chase than to go
into the rough mountains and hunt the game that lived higher up.
It was into this region, as yet unknown to white people, that Jack and
his friends now entered, in order to explore it and learn for themselves
what it held.
CONTENTS
CHAPTER PAGE
I. A MEETING OF FRIENDS 1
II. HISTORIC LAND 17
III. THE BLACKFOOT AGENCY 31
IV. A MEDICINE PIPE CEREMONY 43
V. OFF FOR THE MOUNTAINS 59
VI. A SHEEP HUNT 75
VII. OLD-TIME HUNTING WAYS 85
VIII. A BIG BEAR HIDE 94
IX. A BLACKFOOT LEGEND 107
X. THE SOURCE OF AN UNKNOWN RIVER 114
XI. THE RETREAT 133
XII. THE WAYS OF BEAVER 150
XIII. THE FORKS OF SWIFT CURRENT 163
XIV. A LYNX VISITS CAMP 178
XV. LONE WOLF’S BAY PONY 196
XVI. AN ICE RIVER 214
XVII. A FAT BIGHORN 229
XVIII. AMONG THE ICEFIELDS 244
XIX. A FOUR-FOOTED HUNTER 257
XX. CLIMBING A GREAT MOUNTAIN 276
XXI. TROUBLE WITH WHISKEY TRADERS 289
TO-DAY 306
LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS
“The tent was shivering and shaking and from it
emerged groans and growls” _Frontispiece_
FACING PAGE
“Bruce had to keep up, for if he had fallen he would
have been dragged and kicked to death” 212
“Jack did not raise his sights, but following Hugh’s
suggestion, fired at the animal’s neck” 230
“Hugh took hold of his wrist and wrenched the
revolver away from him” 292
JACK, THE YOUNG EXPLORER
CHAPTER I
A MEETING OF FRIENDS
As the train drew slowly into the Helena station Jack’s eyes searched
the platform, looking for Hugh, and in a moment he recognized the tall
form, standing well back from the crowd and looking at the platform of
each car as it passed.
“Hurrah, Hugh!” called Jack, as he waved his hand frantically; but he
had to jump down to the platform and elbow his way through the crowd
before Hugh’s eye caught his.
“Well, son,” said Hugh, as he grasped his hand in a firm clasp, “I sure
am glad to see you. I only got here last night myself, but it’s been a
long day waiting around here alone, and I was afraid that maybe you
wouldn’t come on this train.”
“Well,” replied Jack, “I’m mighty glad to get here. I was a little
afraid that maybe something might have happened to keep you, and that I
should have to do the waiting. It’s all right now though, and I hope we
can get off to-morrow. I don’t want to stop in towns any more than you
do, and I guess we shall both be glad to get into camp.”
“Sure, we will,” said Hugh. “Now, what have you in the way of baggage?
Of course you’ve got your bed, and I see your gun and bag in your hand.
I’ve got a room at the Merchants’ Hotel, and I reckon we might as well
go up there, and then after you’ve eaten we can see the sights.”
“Well,” said Jack, “I’ve got a small trunk and my bed, and we can pack
those up to the hotel, and then I’ll put the stuff I need in my bed and
my war bag and we’ll be all ready for the stage whenever it goes.”
“All right,” said Hugh, “I reckon we better take one of these hacks
here, and the man can put your things on top, while we ride inside. It
isn’t much of a walk up to the hotel, only about a mile, but maybe we’d
better get there as quick as we can and have our dinner and attend to
our business, and then we won’t have anything on our minds.”
Before long they were rolling rapidly over the smooth road toward the
town, which stands at some distance from the railroad. As they passed
along, Jack saw, to the right, enormous piles of cobblestones extending
for half a mile or more toward the town. For some time he looked at them
with curiosity, and then asked Hugh what they were.
“Why, don’t you know?” Hugh replied. “That’s the old placer ground that
they used to work over when this camp was first settled. Last Chance
Gulch they called it. That gravel and rock that you see there came out
of the sluice boxes. Every little while, I’m told, a man comes down here
now and works over some of that gravel, and they say that to-day there’s
fair wages to be made mining right here in the town. I’ve heard that
there are some Chinamen that work these gravels right along. There’s a
heap of gold been taken out of that gulch, but, of course, just how much
nobody knows. Every now and then, in digging the foundations of a house
in town, some man will turn up a little nugget of gold, and then all
the workmen quit digging and begin to pan out the foundations.”
“That seems queer, Hugh, doesn’t it? I suppose the same thing happens in
lots of places along the Rocky Mountains, because a great many of the
big towns now stand where old mining camps used to be.”
“Yes,” said Hugh, “that’s surely true. There’s lots of gold left in the
sides of these hills yet, even after the miners have been over the
dirt.”
“What kind of a trip did you have coming up, Hugh?” asked Jack. “Did
anything happen on the road?”
“No,” replied Hugh; “nothing of any account. Joe drove me in to the
railroad with my stuff. He had to come in for a load of groceries and a
keg of nails, and I took the train west to Ogden, and that little narrow
gauge road up to Garrisons, and then came east on the main line. I was
kind of scared that maybe I’d get lost, making so many changes; but
everybody I met was mighty pleasant spoken, and I didn’t have a mite of
trouble. Of course you know what I saw on the road, for you and I went
back that same way two years ago, when we came back from the coast.”
By this time they were climbing the hills of the town, and a moment
later the hack stopped in front of the Merchants’ Hotel. Jack got a
room, in which his things were put, and the two friends went down to
dinner.
After this was over, it took Jack but half an hour to get from his trunk
and pack in his bag the few things that he needed for his trip, and then
he and Hugh sallied out and took a long walk out of town, into the high
hills which overlook Helena and the great flat through which the river
flows.
On the way back they passed the stage office and arranged for two seats
on the box of the stage that left the next morning.
“It ain’t much use for you to engage these seats,” said the man in the
office; “I don’t believe there’s ary person going out to-morrow morning
except you two, still I’ll put your names down for the two seats on the
box if you like. It can’t do no harm, anyhow. You have your stuff down
here to-morrow morning any time after seven o’clock and we’ll take care
of it and see that it goes on the stage.”
Their long walk had given Hugh and Jack a good appetite and they
heartily enjoyed their supper. After they had eaten they started out
again and walked through the brilliantly lighted streets, looking in at
the windows of shops and saloons, each of which seemed to be full of
customers. The air was mild and balmy and the beautiful night had
brought many people into the street.
As they passed an open door, from which shone a bright light, Jack
looked in and saw people sitting at tables playing cards, while toward
the back of the room was a long narrow table surrounded by men who
seemed greatly interested in what was going on.
“What are they doing in there, Hugh?” said Jack.
“Why, I reckon that’s a gambling house,” was the reply. “You know
there’s no law against gambling in most of these Montana towns, the way
I hear there is in towns back East. Everybody is free to go in and play
if he wants to.”
“I’ve never been in a gambling house, Hugh. Can’t we go in and look on?
I’d like to see what they are doing.”
“Why, yes,” said Hugh; “there’s no harm in going in and looking on. That
isn’t the sort of thing that I would do for fun, but there’s no harm in
it and you may see something that will teach you a good lesson. I never
was much on gambling myself. I never had much money to lose, and I never
wanted to win anybody else’s. It never seemed to me quite square to take
money without you worked for it. I never could see the sense of betting,
either; but, come on; let’s go in.”
Hugh led the way into the room, and Jack followed. The people playing at
the various tables and those overlooking the game paid no attention to
them. All were intent on their own affairs. Hugh walked around to one
end of the long table and gradually edged his way into the crowd, gently
pushing men this way and that in so good-natured a fashion that no one
objected to it. Jack kept close behind him, and presently, when Hugh had
reached a point where he had a good view of the table, he squeezed back
a little and let Jack pass in and stand in front of him.
Behind the table sat a man smoking a long cigar, while in front of him
was a little silver box about the size of a playing card, from which at
short intervals the man drew two cards, one after another, which he
placed on two little piles by the box. In the middle of the table was a
long frame on which were painted representations of cards, and on these
cards, in various positions, were placed circular disks, white, red, and
blue. The players placed these disks on the cards, and then when two
cards came out of the box, sometimes the dealer took over to his side of
the table the chips that were on a particular card, or else put on that
card as many more chips as were already on it. Then the player usually
removed these chips and put some or all of them on another card. Most of
the people about the table appeared to be acquainted with each other,
and those who spoke to the dealer seemed to know him, calling him by his
first name. For some minutes Jack watched the game intently and began to
have a glimmering idea of how it was played. Once or twice he whispered
a question to Hugh, but Hugh shook his head for silence, and one or two
of the people near by looked frowningly at the speaker. “Evidently,”
Jack thought, “this is not a place for conversation.”
As they stood there, the crowd in the room increased; more and more
people gathered around the faro table; the smoke in the air grew
thicker, and there was the sound of more or less hum and bustle.
Presently Jack felt a hand on his shoulder, and looking back at Hugh saw
him move his head toward the door, and the two pushed their way through
the crowd and out again into the street.
“Might as well get away from there,” said Hugh; “they are playing pretty
heavy. Two or three men came in that were full of liquor, and it looks
to me as if there might be trouble in there to-night. There’s no special
reason why we should be there if there’s going to be any shooting.”
“No,” said Jack, “I should say not. It’s about the last place in which
I’d want to be shot, a gambling house.”
“Yes,” said Hugh, “you’re dead right about that. I don’t know as I’d
mind about being killed if I had to be killed, but I’d like to have it
done in the right sort of a place.”
“Is there much of that thing going on in town, Hugh?” asked Jack.
“Right smart,” said Hugh. “I reckon from what I saw last night and from
what I hear that there must be twenty-five or thirty places like that,
and maybe a good many more that are not as decent as that one.”
“Well,” said Jack, “do men lose much money there?”
“I reckon they do,” answered Hugh. “A whole lot more than they can
afford, even if the game is straight. There’s quite a percentage in
favor of the dealer and a good many of the games are not straight.”
“How do you mean, Hugh?” said Jack. “Do the gamblers cheat?”
“Yes,” said Hugh, “I reckon they do. Some of those fellows are awful
slick at dealing and shuffling. They can shuffle the cards just about
the way they want them, so that they know just what card is coming out
next, and if they see the bets are going against them they can slip two
cards out of the box instead of one and make themselves win instead of
lose.”
“But,” said Jack, “I should think they would get caught at it.”
“No,” said Hugh, “scarcely ever; and if a man does see anything crooked,
it’s only his word against the dealer’s, and the dealer is apt to have
two or three friends around the table who will talk for him. If the
worst comes to worst, why, of course, the dealer has got to draw quick,
and usually he is a man who can do that.”
“Do you mean shoot, Hugh?” said Jack.
“Well, yes,” said Hugh; “sometimes it comes to that, though generally
the dealer can bluff it out, especially if he’s got two or three men to
wrangle and shout for him.”
“Well,” said Jack, “that seems pretty rough.”
“It is rough,” said Hugh; “but that’s the way it is in a good many of
these towns.”
Soon after seven o’clock next morning Jack and Hugh were at the stage
office with their beds, their bags, and their rifles. For a time they
sat on their rolls of bedding talking, but at length a man came out from
a stable near by and spoke to Hugh, and the beds were carried into the
stable and lashed on to the rack behind the stage and the bags thrown
into the boot under the driver’s seat. A little later the four horses
were brought out and hitched to the vehicle, and presently the driver,
carrying his long whip, came from the office. The stage was led out into
the street before the stable, the driver mounted, and Jack and Hugh
followed him, all three sitting on the front seat. Then a clerk came
from the office and spoke to the driver, telling him that there were no
other passengers that morning, and with a parting nod the team started
off and trotted swiftly out of town.
“Hugh,” said Jack, “is this the sort of stage that they use everywhere
in the mountains?”
“No,” replied Hugh, “I reckon not. This is the old-fashioned stage, such
as they used to drive in crossing the plains away back before the
railroad was built, but stage-driving is pretty near over now and the
old stages are laid on the shelf. Usually for these short little
mountain trips most any kind of a jerky or even a lumber wagon is used.
This stage here is one of the real old kind.”
It was a high, large vehicle hung on C springs, with abundant room
inside and two or three seats without. Back of the seats the roof of the
coach was strengthened with slats of wood running lengthwise, and all
about this roof was a high iron railing, so that a good lot of baggage
might be piled there and lashed firmly to the top.
“I have seen coaches like this more than once,” said Jack. “Up in
Massachusetts, where my grandfather lives, they have just such a coach
as this to send around the village to gather passengers for the train in
the morning, and it takes away the passengers that come by the train and
leaves them at their homes. Once, too, when I went to the Catskill
Mountains, they had a stage like this to take us from the landing at the
river up to the hotel, a long drive.”
“Well,” said Hugh, “these coaches are easy to ride in, but by the time a
man’s been on the stage about twenty-four hours he is generally in the
frame of mind where he is willing to fight with his best friend. You
see, the trouble is, he can’t get any sleep, and without sleep a man’s
temper shortens up pretty fast.”
“Well,” said Jack, “we have got to go more than twenty-four hours
without sleep, haven’t we? We travel right along, don’t we?” he asked,
turning to the driver, who nodded in reply and added that it would take
in the neighborhood of twenty-four hours to get to Benton. “Of course,”
he remarked, “we could go faster if there was any reason for it. We
change teams about every fifteen miles, but there is no reason why we
should hurry the horses. It doesn’t make any difference to you, I
reckon, whether yet get in at four o’clock in the morning or six, does
it?”
“Not a bit,” said Jack. “I like this riding on a stage, but I don’t know
just how long I’ll continue to like it.”
They had now turned from the flat prairie, over which the smooth road
ran straight, and were entering a wide valley of the mountains, which
gradually closed in on them until there seemed hardly room for more than
the river that flowed through it and the road.
“That’s Wolf Creek,” said the driver, motioning toward the stream with
his whip. “And this here canyon that we are going through is called
Prickly Pear Canyon.”
On either side of the stream the hills rose sharply, sometimes in steep
grassy slopes, shaggy with clumps of small pines and spruces, at others,
in a sheer rocky precipice, or yet again in steep slopes covered with
small shrubbery through which great knobs of rock showed here and there.
“Any game on these hills?” asked Hugh of the driver.
“Plenty of deer,” was the reply, “and some elk; lots of bear, too. Not
many people travel over these hills, except prospectors, and they don’t
do any hunting to amount to anything.”
As he finished speaking, Jack, who had been scanning the hillside ahead
of the team, suddenly grasped Hugh’s arm and said, “There’s a deer now,
Hugh.”
“Sure enough,” said Hugh, and all hands looking, a black-tail was seen
feeding alone on the hillside, not eating the grass, but walking from
one clump of weeds or brush to another and biting a mouthful of food
from each. As they drew nearer, the animal heard the trotting of the
horses or the rattle of the coach and stood for a few moments looking
innocently at the team as it approached. The deer was a young buck, his
horns, of course, in the velvet, for it was but the last of June. He
studied the team with his huge ears turned forward to catch the sound
which it made, and every now and then lifted his head higher, and seemed
to feel the air with his nose.
At last, when the coach was fairly close to him, the driver said, “Do
either of you want to take a shot at him?”
“Not I,” said Hugh.
“Nor I,” said Jack.
“Well,” said the driver, “I’m glad you don’t, for it would take us some
time to butcher him, and I don’t like to loaf much just after starting
out. The end of the day is the better time to drive slowly.”
Presently the buck seemed to have satisfied himself that there was
possible danger in this great object approaching him, and turning, he
bounded lightly along the hillside, gradually working up until at last
he passed out of sight.
“Wasn’t it fine, Hugh,” said Jack, “to see him use his nose. That is
what a deer depends on, isn’t it? He doesn’t trust his eyes very much,
nor his ears, but his nose never lies to him.”
“Well,” replied Hugh, “that’s so. And it isn’t so only about deer, but
about all sorts of game animals. I’ve had deer walk right straight up to
me. So long as I kept still they didn’t pay any attention to me, and
likely thought I was a stump or a rock, but just as soon as they passed
along near enough to catch the wind of me they never stopped to look or
listen, but got up and dusted the best they knew how; and yet you can
come on a bunch of deer and they’ll hear you and jump to their feet and
look at you, and maybe you can fire three or four shots at them and kill
two or three before they’ll run away.”
“Yes,” said the driver, “that’s sure enough true; but you mustn’t say
that it’s only deer or game that acts that way. Take a dog now----”
“Yes,” said Hugh, “that’s right enough, too.”
“Why,” said the driver, “I have seen dogs--owned ’em, too--that didn’t
seem to get any satisfaction at all out of their eyes; they couldn’t
trust them. I have seen the time when I’d be walking along with my dog,
and maybe I’d get a little ahead or a little behind him and I’d stop to
talk with three or four fellows, and the dog would start to look for me;
and even if he saw me right plain, he wouldn’t be sure it was me until
he had come up behind me and stuck the end of his nose against my leg so
that he could smell me. I remember once standing with three or four men
in front of the Bella saloon in Benton when my dog did a trick like
that. One of the men I was talking to didn’t like dogs; in fact, he was
awful scared of them. The dog came up to us and smelt of each man, and
when he shoved his nose hard against the leg of the man who was afraid
of dogs, the man felt the dog’s nose and looked down and saw the dog,
and he thought he’d been bit. He jumped about four feet into the air and
reached for his gun to try to kill the dog that had bit him, but the
others of us got hold of him and held him until we’d explained matters.
“Curious how scared some people are over a little thing, and yet maybe
all the time they’ve got good sand and wouldn’t run away in the worst
kind of a scrap.”
“Yes,” said Hugh, “that’s one of the queer things about human nature;
you never can tell what it is that is going to scare a man. I’ve seen
men that would run a mile to get away from some little bug like a spider
or a hornet, and yet I know those men weren’t cowards, because I’ve seen
them in tight places and they were always willing to take as many risks
as anybody. Why, once I even saw a man that was afraid of a mouse.”
“No?” exclaimed the stage driver.
“Fact,” said Hugh. “He was afraid of a mouse, and when one ran over his
face, just after he had gone to bed, he got up and sat by the fire all
night for fear it would do it again.”
“Why, Hugh,” said Jack, “don’t you remember that the great Napoleon was
afraid of a cat. It would make him sick if there was one in the room,
even though he didn’t see it and didn’t know that it was there. And
Napoleon was one of the greatest soldiers that ever lived, and, I
suppose, a brave man.”
“Yes,” said Hugh, “I reckon he was.”
“I have known lots of people,” Jack went on, “who were afraid of snakes.
It didn’t make any difference whether they were venomous snakes or not.
Just as long as they were snakes, they scared these people.”
“That’s so,” said Hugh. “I’ve known one man that was afraid of snakes,
and, what’s more, he could tell if there was one around, whether he saw
it or not. He said he smelled them. That seems queer, too.”
“It does for a fact,” remarked the driver.
Before they had passed through the Prickly Pear Canyon they reached the
stage station where the horses were to be changed. There all hands got
down and walked about a little to stretch their legs; but in a very few
minutes four fresh horses had been harnessed and they recommenced their
journey.
“Do you ever have trouble with road agents on this line?” Hugh asked of
the driver.
“No,” said he, “we’ve never been stopped but once. The fact is, we
scarcely ever carry anything that makes it worth while for anyone to
stop the stage. Early this spring, though, my partner was held up just
as he was coming over the Bird Tail Divide. There had been some talk of
sending out some dust from Benton by the stage, but it was given up and
the gold went out another way. Of course none of us knew that it was
going, but the news must have got out somehow, for that night, just as
the stage reached the top of the Bird Tail Divide and the two leaders
had got up onto the level, two men stepped out in the moonlight and told
Buck--that’s my partner--to stop. He started to lay the whip on his
horses, but they were all walking, and the men brought down their guns
and called to him again that if he started they’d kill the leaders. So
he pulled up and asked the men what they wanted, and they said they
wanted the treasure chest and told him to throw it down. He said there
wasn’t any treasure chest, and if they didn’t believe him they could
come and search the coach. With that a third man that Buck hadn’t seen
before popped up from the side of the road and climbed up and looked
through the boot and searched Buck, and then went through the whole
stage. They were a pretty mad lot when they let Buck go on.”
“Was it ever known who they were?”
“No,” said the driver. “I always had an idea that Buck knew who the
little fellow was that searched the stage, but as they didn’t get
anything and didn’t bother Buck any, I reckon he didn’t want to say much
about it.”
All through the day they trotted briskly forward changing horses at
regular intervals, so that the teams were always fresh and progress
rapid. They had dinner and supper at the stage stations which they
passed, and about ten o’clock at night reached Fort Shaw.
By this time both Hugh and Jack were tired and sleepy, but the driver
seemed as fresh as ever.
While the horses were being changed, Hugh sat down on the front steps of
the building and smoked his pipe, and Jack, trying to get the sleep out
of his eyes, walked up and down on the boardwalk. As he was doing this
he was joined by a little Irishman, who conversed pleasantly.
“Are you working now?” said the little man, as he puffed at his short
pipe.
“No,” said Jack, “not now. I’m just going up to Benton.”
“Do yez want work?” asked the stranger. “I need a couple more hands on
me ranch down below here and I’d like to hire yez. Thirty dollars and
board is what I pay; good wages for the time and for the country.”
“Well,” said Jack, “I’d like the work and I’d like the money, but I’m
just traveling through the country and I’ve got to meet a man in Benton,
and couldn’t stop now to take even a good job.”
“Well,” said the man, “I’m sorry. If ever yez come through Shaw again,
maybe ye’d be needin’ work, and ye’d better come to my place and see if
I can’t give yez a job. Maloney is me name, on Sun River, five miles
below the post.”
Jack was quite tickled at this offer, and when they started again, told
Hugh about it.
“Yes,” said Hugh, “you are getting to be a man now, and ought to be able
to do a man’s work, and I reckon you are.”
All through the night the stage rattled and swung over the prairie, and
soon after the sun rose the next morning trotted swiftly across Benton
bottom and drew up at the end of its journey.