FURTHER SERVICE AT CABANNÉ’S.
[Sidenote: METEORIC SHOWER.]
In November, 1833, Pilcher sent La Barge down to a small trading post
at the mouth of the Nishnabotna (river where they make canoes), kept
by Francis Duroins for the convenience of a local band of Indians.
La Barge’s mission was to take two twenty-gallon kegs of alcohol to
Duroins. He was accompanied by a half-blood Indian, and they made the
trip in a canoe. The first night they encamped on Trudeau Island,
about two and a half miles above the mouth of the Weeping Water River.
This island was named after Zenon Trudeau, a trader, brother of the
noted schoolmaster, Joseph Trudeau, and was later called Hurricane
Island, from the circumstance of its having been swept by a tornado.
It has since been entirely washed away. This was the night of the
ever-to-be-remembered meteoric shower of 1833. La Barge was awaked
from his sleep by the brilliant light, and, though not apprehensive of
any impending calamity, was naturally awe-struck at the extraordinary
display. The meteors were flying, as it seemed to him, in all
directions, and their number and brilliancy made the night as light
as day. The half-breed companion was absolutely panic-stricken, and
declared that the day of doom was at hand. But he did not forget, in
his fright, the divine injunction to “eat and drink, for to-morrow we
die.” Rolling himself up in his blanket, he besought La Barge to open
the keg of alcohol and let him meet his fate as became a man in that
wild and lawless country.
As nearly as La Barge could recall, the heavier part of the shower
lasted about two hours. A singular incident occurred early in its
duration. A deer which had become frightened at the unusual sight came
bounding through the undergrowth and plunged directly into camp, coming
to a dead halt scarcely six paces from where La Barge was sitting. He
seized a shotgun and killed it with a load of buckshot.
[Sidenote: THE EXPRESS.]
In January, 1834, the winter express came up from St. Louis. The
express was a matter of great importance in the early fur trade. It was
sent from St. Louis every winter to all the posts. Usually an express
started downstream from the upper posts before the arrival of that
from below. They generally met at Fort Pierre, exchanged dispatches,
and each made the return trip from that point. By means of the express
an interchange of views was had between the house in St. Louis and
the partners in the field; and the latter were able to send down
statements of business, requisitions for supplies, with information as
to the prospects for the ensuing season’s trade at the upper posts, and
the condition of snow in the mountains. The carrying of the express
was a matter of great danger and hardship. It was generally done in
the dead of winter. Between Pierre and St. Louis it was carried on
horseback; above Pierre on dogsleds. The packages were put up with the
most scrupulous care, and were intrusted only to those in whom the
company had absolute confidence. The bearers were not permitted to
carry anything else, nor to do errands for others, but were required to
attend to the express only. The chief danger on the long journey was
from the cold, for at this season the Indians were not dangerous, being
generally huddled together in their villages for the winter. The route
above Bellevue was along the west shore to opposite Vermillion, where
it crossed the river and remained on the east shore the rest of the way
until opposite Fort Pierre.
Captain La Barge’s father brought up the express from St. Louis in the
winter of 1834. He was to return from Cabanné’s post, and Pilcher was
to provide for its carriage the rest of the way. A few days before
his arrival a brutal murder occurred at the post. A half-breed named
Pinaud, while in a state of drunkenness, shot and killed a white man
named Blair. Both of the men were hunters for the post. Pilcher
immediately put Pinaud in irons, to be held until he could be sent to
St. Louis for trial. When the elder La Barge arrived Pilcher asked him
if he would undertake to deliver the prisoner to the United States
authorities in St. Louis. He agreed to try it. When ready to start
he requested Pilcher to remove the irons and put Pinaud on a mule.
This astonished Pilcher a good deal, but La Barge explained that the
man could ride better with the free use of his limbs, which was also
necessary to keep him from freezing to death. He said he could catch
him if he undertook to run, for the mule was no match in speed for his
horse. He would take the irons and put them on in camp.
[Sidenote: TRAVESTY OF JUSTICE.]
The prisoner was delivered in due time to the proper authorities in
St. Louis, where he was held for trial. And now ensued one of those
miscarriages, or rather travesties, of justice which marked the
entire history of the American Fur Company on the Missouri River.
Although Pinaud’s crime was a cold-blooded and causeless murder, it
was nevertheless of vital importance that he be acquitted; otherwise
it would bring out the fact that the Company was violating the Federal
statutes by selling liquor at its posts. The company therefore took
good care that none of the people from the upper country who were
conversant with the facts should be in St. Louis when the trial came
off. The prosecution, consequently, could produce no witnesses, and the
man was acquitted.
[Sidenote: LA BARGE CARRIES EXPRESS.]
Two or three days after the elder La Barge left Cabanné’s post for St.
Louis, Pilcher summoned young La Barge to him and asked him to take the
express to Pierre. “There are old voyageurs here whom I can send,” he
said, “but I can’t trust them. I want you to go. What do you say to it?”
“Well, Major,” La Barge replied, “I have never been as far above this
post in my life, but if you have confidence in me I think I can get
through.”
“I believe you will,” said the Major. “I will trust you, at any rate.
Get ready and you shall have the best horse in the post.”
In fact Pilcher gave La Barge his own horse, a very fine animal.
Captain La Barge made ready and set out alone in a country entirely new
to him, uninhabited by white men, and now buried in the embrace of a
northern winter. He took a few pounds of hard bread and a few ears of
corn to parch, but for the rest subsisted on game. He followed the foot
of the bluffs as far as possible, and in due time reached Fort Pierre.
Fortunately, the day after his arrival the express from Fort Union came
in. Exchanges were made, and after a short rest La Barge set out on his
return trip. He reached Cabanné in good time. The exploit gratified
Pilcher highly, and he said to La Barge, “I knew I had made no mistake.”
[Sidenote: A MOMENTARY FRIGHT.]
Captain La Barge recalled only two incidents on this trip: He saw one
day, what he never saw before nor afterward, although he had heard
hunters and Indians relate similar experiences, two dead elk whose
horns had become interlocked in fighting, and who had died bound
together in that way. While in camp one night, just above Vermillion,
he had a good fire of dry cottonwood and willows, and was roasting a
prairie chicken in the flame. Happening to look up, he saw four gray
wolves only a little way off on the opposite side of the fire, looking
steadily at him. He was almost paralyzed at the sight, but nevertheless
did not leave his place, but quietly got his gun and pistols convenient
for action and sat still and watched his visitors. After looking at him
a few minutes, and concluding, apparently, that he was not the kind of
game they were after, they withdrew.
[Sidenote: AFTER HORSE THIEVES.]
In the month of April, 1834, La Barge was sent with a party under one
La Chapelle to go to the Pawnees and bring down the bullboats with the
winter’s trade. They were detained several days at the Pawnee Loup
village, waiting for some of the Indians to come in. During this delay
a band of horse-stealing Sioux slipped into the village one stormy
night, and, opening the corrals, let out some sixty head of horses and
got away without waking anybody up. When the theft was discovered the
following morning the chief called for volunteers to go in pursuit.
Some seventy-five men started, and with them La Barge and a companion
named Bercier. La Barge had never had an experience of this sort, and
thought the present opportunity a good one. On the second evening after
their departure they discovered the thieves and their horses encamped
on the Elkhorn River. There were about fifteen of the Indians. The
pursuers carefully reconnoitered the position, and next morning at
daybreak attacked it, killing eleven of the Indians and capturing all
of the horses. The man Bercier, who accompanied La Barge, met death at
the hand of another tribe of Indians thirty-one years afterward. In
1865 he went up the Missouri with Captain La Barge to Fort Benton, and
was killed by the Blackfeet on the Teton River near that post.
[Sidenote: RATTLESNAKES.]
On their way down the Platte from the Pawnees, on this trip, the party
were greatly annoyed by rattlesnakes at the camps on shore. If they
made camp before dark they carefully scoured the entire neighborhood
and killed or drove off these dangerous reptiles. But they often kept
on the river as long as they could see, and on such occasions could
not take the usual precaution. The snakes were not pugnacious, and
sought the camp only because of the warm nestling places they found
there. They liked to creep into or under the blankets, and the great
danger was that when the occupant of the bed awoke he might step on
or otherwise hurt the snakes and cause them to strike before he was
conscious of their presence. On one occasion Captain La Barge found
two of these snakes under his coat, which he had folded and used for a
pillow. In some places they were so numerous as to cause the Indians to
move their camps. An instance of this kind occurred at Red Cloud, below
what is now Chamberlain, S. D., where the site of the agency had to be
changed. As late as 1883, when Captain La Barge was pilot of a boat in
the service of a United States surveying party, he took some members
of the party to a point near the Bijoux hills, where he remembered
having seen long years before a colony of rattlesnakes. Sure enough,
there they were, still as thick as in former days. The party killed 130
within a few minutes. Captain La Barge could not recall a single death
from a rattlesnake bite in his whole experience on the river. He stated
that swine were the best exterminators of these reptiles.
As soon as the robes had been packed into mackinaw boats at the mouth
of the Platte, about the middle of May, 1834, La Barge started for St.
Louis. This was the last of his service with Pilcher, for before his
return the Major had left the post for some more important business
in St. Louis. He had taken a great liking to the young engagé and
undertook to secure him a promotion. He sent down by La Barge a letter
of recommendation to Daniel Lamont, one of the partners of the upper
Missouri department of the American Fur Company. Captain La Barge knew
nothing of the letter at the time. It eventually found its way into the
Chouteau archives, where it was discovered by the author of this work
and shown to Captain La Barge sixty-two years after it was written. It
read as follows:
[Sidenote: LETTER OF RECOMMENDATION.]
“NEAR THE BLUFFS, May 16, 1834.
“DEAR SIR: The bearer of this, Joseph La Barge, wintered
with me last winter, and has been faithful, active, and
enterprising. He wishes to get a clerkship on the Missouri,
but I have not employed him for the reason that I have no use
for him, nor do I suppose that Mr. Chouteau will employ him
for this post, as I have informed him that there is no use for
additional clerks. La Barge writes a tolerably good hand, and
if you have any place for him above, I can recommend him as a
modest and good young man who has done his duty here (as an
engagé) very faithfully, and I think him worthy of a better
situation.
“Your friend,
“JOSHUA PILCHER.”