ALEXANDER HENRY (THE YOUNGER)
II
In August, 1801, Henry was on his way to a new post on the Pembina,
the one which Langlois had established the year before. He intended
to establish also a post at Grandes Fourches, the site of the present
town of Grand Forks, North Dakota. This business, and his travels
to other subsidiary trading-posts that he built at various points,
occupied the autumn. Game was abundant, and so were fish. The Hudson’s
Bay Company, the opposition, were not far off, and there was some
intercourse between the men of the two companies. On March 14, during
a drinking-match, occured one of the fights among the Indians which
were so common in those days of abundant liquor. “Gros Bras, in a fit
of jealousy, stabbed Auposoi to death with a hand-dague; the first
stroke opened his left side, the second his belly, and the third his
breast. He never stirred, although he had a knife in his belt, and died
instantly. Soon after this, Auposoi’s brother a boy about ten years of
age, took the deceased’s gun loaded it with two balls, and approached
Gros Bras’ tent. Putting the muzzle of the gun through the door, the
boy fired the two balls into his breast, and killed him dead, just as
he was reproaching his wife for her affection for Auposoi, and boasting
of the vengeance he had taken. The little fellow ran into the woods and
hid. Little Shell found the old woman, Auposoi’s mother, in her tent;
he instantly stabbed her. Ondainoiache then came in, took the knife,
and gave her a second stab. Little Shell, in his turn, taking the
knife, gave a third blow. In this manner did these two rascals continue
to murder the old woman as long as there was any life in her. The boy
escaped into Langlois’ house, and was kept hid until they were all
sober.”
March 15, a swan, a turkey-buzzard, and a hawk, the first spring birds,
were seen; and by the middle of April wild-fowl were plenty, and calves
were becoming numerous. Passenger pigeons were passing north, and
toward the end of the month some Indians came in with thirty-six whole
beaver in a skin canoe. In May came the news of a Sioux attack on the
Saulteurs, in which seven of the latter were killed. Henry planted his
garden, and soon after made ready for his departure to join the brigade.
The next September he was back again at Panbian River, trading with
the Indians, and, of course, handing out rum to them. His entry for
February 15 contains a small temperance lecture which represented
what he sometimes preached, but never practised. As he says: “The
Indians totally neglected their ancient customs; and to what can this
degeneration be ascribed but to their intercourse with us, particularly
as they are so unfortunate as to have a continual succession of
opposition parties to teach them roguery, and to destroy both mind and
body with that pernicious article rum? What a different set of people
they would be were there not a drop of liquor in the country. If a
murder is committed among the Saulteurs, it is due to a drinking match.
You may truly say that liquor is the root of all evil in the West.”
Spring came on with the usual signs. The women were making sugar at
the last of March (1803), and it was noted that spring that very few
buffalo drifted down the river. The plains of the Red River were
covered with water from the sudden melting of the snow, and the men
suffered much, for they were continually on the march, looking up
Indians along every stream. The water was commonly knee-deep, and
in some places much deeper, and was usually covered with ice in the
morning, making the walking tiresome, and often dangerous. Some of the
best men, Henry says, lose the use of their legs while still in the
prime of life. The Indians were now bringing in the proceeds of their
spring hunt, and exchanging it for rum. When the time came around,
Henry interrupted his hunting and his trading to plant his garden,
sowing potatoes, cabbage, and many root crops. With the end of May
came the mosquitoes, a terrible pest. Among the articles traded for
was maple sugar, an important article of food in that country. As
usual, about midsummer, Henry started down the river with his furs, and
reached Fort William July 3.
On the 29th of the same month he started on his return journey, with
a brigade of eight canoes; and about two months later, September 20,
found himself at the present Winnipeg, and soon afterward at the old
post on the Panbian River.
Horses had now begun to be used in the trade at this point, and Henry
grumbles about them in a long entry, which is worth reproducing: “It
is true they are useful animals, but if there were not one in all
the Northwest we should have less trouble and expense. Our men would
neither be so burdened with families, nor so indolent and insolent
as they are, and the natives in general would be more honest and
industrious. Let an impartial eye look into the affair, to discover
whence originates the unbounded extravagance of our meadow gentry, both
white and native, and horses will be found one of the principal causes.
Let us view the bustle and noise which attended the transportation of
five pieces of goods to a place where the houses were built in 1801-02.
The men were up at break of day, and their horses tackled long before
sunrise; but they were not ready to move before ten o’clock, when I had
the curiosity to climb on top of my house to watch their motions, and
observe their order of march.
“Antoine Payet, guide and second in command, leads the van with a cart
drawn by two horses, and loaded with private baggage, cassetetes,
bags, kettles, and mashqueminctes. Madame Payet follows the cart, with
a child a year old on her back, very merry. Charles Bottineau, with
two horses and a cart, loaded with 1½ packs, his own baggage, and
two young children, with kettles and other trash hanging on to it.
Madame Bottineau, with a squalling infant on her back, scolding and
tossing it about. Joseph Dubord goes on foot, with his long pipestem
and calumet in his hand. Madame Dubord follows on foot, carrying his
tobacco pouch with a broad bead tail. Antoine Thellier, with a cart
and two horses, loaded with 1½ packs of goods, and Dubois’ baggage.
Antoine La Pointe, with another cart and horses, loaded with two pieces
of goods, and with baggage belonging to Brisebois, Jasmin, and Pouliot,
and a kettle hung on each side. Auguste Brisebois follows, with only
his gun on his shoulder and a fresh-lighted pipe in his mouth. Michel
Jasmin goes next, like Brisebois, with gun and pipe, puffing out clouds
of smoke. Nicolas Pouliot, the greatest smoker in the Northwest, has
nothing but pipe and pouch; those three fellows have taken a farewell
dram, and lighted fresh pipes, go on brisk and merry, playing numerous
pranks. Dormin Livernois, with a young mare, the property of Mr.
Langlois, loaded with weeds for smoking, an old worsted bag (madame’s
property), some squashes and potatoes, a small keg of fresh water, and
two young whelps, howling. Next goes Livernois’ young horse, drawing
a travaille, loaded with baggage and a large worsted mashguemcate,
belonging to Madame Langlois. Next appears Madame Cameron’s mare,
kicking, rearing, and snorting, hauling a travaille loaded with a bag
of flour, cabbage, turnips, onions, a small keg of water, and a large
kettle of broth. Michel Langlois, who is master of the band, now comes
on leading a horse that draws a travaille nicely covered with a new
painted tent, under which his daughter and Mrs. Cameron lie at full
length, very sick; this covering or canopy has a pretty effect in the
caravan, and appears at a great distance in the plains. Madame Langlois
brings up the rear of the human beings, following the travaille with a
slow step and melancholy air, attending to the wants of her daughter,
who, nothwithstanding her sickness, can find no other expressions of
gratitude to her parents than by calling them dogs, fools, beasts,
etc. The rear-guard consists of a long train of twenty dogs, some for
sleighs, some for game, and others for no use whatever, except to snarl
and destroy meat. The total forms a procession nearly a mile long, and
appears like a large band of Assiniboines.”
Early in November Henry went over to the Hair Hills. In March, on a
journey from the Hair Hills to his home, he says that he travelled
in the night always, preferring to do so at this season of the year,
partly to avoid snow blindness, and partly because the cold of the
night makes travel easier than during the day, when the snow is melted
and soft, and dogs and sledges sink deep into it. In April, when he was
chasing buffalo, he came near leaving his bones in the plains, a prey
for the wolves. “This was occasioned by my horse stumbling while at
full speed. I was just drawing my gun from the belt to fire, holding
it by the barrel, near the muzzle, when the sudden shock caused the
priming to fire the gun; the ball passed near my hip and struck in the
ground, and the gun flew some distance. I was in the midst of the herd;
a fine large calf passing near me, I dismounted, caught him by the
tail, and held him fast; he began to bleat, when instantly the mother
turned and rushed at me; I was glad to let go and run to my horse. As I
reflected on my narrow escape, it brought to my mind a similar affair
which happened to me some years ago at Michipicoten, when shooting
wildfowl in the spring, in a small canoe. In attempting to remove my
gun from my left to my right side, passing the muzzle behind my back,
the cock got fast in one of the bars, and, on my pulling the gun
forward from behind me, she went off; the load grazed my right side,
taking a piece of my belt and capot away.”
In April he bought a beautiful white buffalo skin; the hair was long,
soft and perfectly white, resembling a sheep’s fleece. Early in May
extraordinary numbers of wild pigeons were seen, and the Indian women
were preparing the ground for their farming. With the summer came
the usual packing of the furs, and the journey to Kamanistiquia. The
return journey was a short one, and Henry reached the Panbian River
early in September. In October he writes, as showing the excellence of
his horse, that one day he ran an elk five miles before killing it;
then chased a hare, which he killed after a long pursuit; and finally,
toward evening, he ran a herd of buffalo, and killed a fat cow for
supper. Besides these long races, he had covered about thirty-six miles
of travel.
This winter, because he refused to give credit to an Indian for a
blanket, Henry was twice shot at, but missed. On his return to his post
that summer, he learned of an attack on a small camp of his Indians
by Sioux a month earlier. This is the story as Henry gives it, and
it may be retold because it illustrates Indian modes: “My beau-père
(father-in-law) was the first man that fell, about eight o’clock in
the morning. He had climbed a tree to see if the buffalo were at
hand, as they were tented there to make dried provisions. He had no
sooner reached the top than two Sioux discoverers [scouts] fired at
the same moment, and both balls passed through his body. He had only
time to call out to his family, who were in the tent, about a hundred
paces from him, ‘Save yourselves, the Sioux are killing us!’ and fell
dead to the ground, his body breaking several branches of the tree
as it dropped. The noise brought the Indians out of the tent, when,
perceiving their danger, the women and children instantly ran through
the plains toward an island of wood on Tongue River, about a mile
distant, and on a direct line toward the fort. The men took their arms
and made off also, keeping in the rear of their women and children,
whom they urged on. The four surviving men had not gone more than a
quarter of a mile when they saw the main body of the war party, on
horseback, rushing down upon them. Crossing Tongue River, and in a
few moments coming up with them, the Sioux began to fire. The four
men, by expert maneuvers and incessant fire, prevented the enemy from
closing in on them, while the women and children continued to fly, and
the men followed. They were within about two hundred paces of the
wood, and some of the most active had actually entered it, when the
enemy surrounded and fell upon them. Three of the Saulteurs fled in
different directions; Grand Gueule escaped before they were completely
surrounded, but the other two were killed. One who remained to protect
the women and children was a brave fellow--Aceguemanche, or Little
Chief; he waited deliberately until the enemy came very near, when he
fired at one who appeared to be a chief, and knocked the Sioux from his
horse. Three young girls and a boy were taken prisoners; the remainder
were all murdered and mutilated in a horrible manner. Several women
and children had escaped in the woods, where the enemy chased them on
horseback, but the willows and brush were so intricate that every one
of these escaped. A boy about twelve years old, when the Sioux pursued,
crawled into a hollow under a bunch of willows, which a horseman leaped
over without perceiving him. One of the little girls who escaped tells
a pitiful story of her mother, who was killed. This woman, having two
young children that could not walk fast enough, had taken one of them
on her back and prevailed upon her sister-in-law to carry the other;
but when they got near the woods, and the enemy rushed upon them with
hideous yells and war-whoops, the young woman was so frightened that
she threw down the child and soon overtook the mother, who, observing
that the child was missing, and hearing its screams, kissed her little
daughter--the one who relates the story--saying, with tears streaming
from her eyes: ‘Take courage, my daughter; try to reach the woods, and
if you do, go to your eldest sister, who will be kind to you; I must
turn back and recover your youngest sister, or die in the attempt. Take
courage; run fast, my daughter!’ Poor woman! She actually did recover
her child, and was running off with both children, when she was felled
to the ground by a blow on the head with a war-club. She recovered
instantly, drew her knife, and plunged it into the neck of her
murderer; but others coming up, she was despatched. Thus my belle-mère
ended her days.”
This same story is told by Tanner, who was then an Indian captive,
living with the Chippewas. Tanner even mentions Henry’s name, and
speaks of his father-in-law having been killed. The Saulteurs were
determined to avenge the death of their relations, and Henry furnished
them with ammunition for their war journey. Later, he visited the
battle-field and the Sioux camp, and judged from the sign that there
must have been about three hundred men in the Sioux party. In October
the remains of the Sioux killed by Little Chief were discovered by some
of the Indians; and the certainty that their enemies had met one loss
was some satisfaction to the Saulteurs.
[Illustration: FUR TRADERS OF THE NORTH.]
Although Henry had made an agreement with Mr. Miller, an agent of the
Hudson’s Bay Company, by which the rum to be given to the Indians
should be limited, the winter did not pass without deaths due to
drinking. One of these was an accident where a drunken Indian knocked
down a gun which, exploding, killed one of Henry’s men, who was
lying on a bed in the next room. The profits for the season’s work in
1805 and 1806, as given in Henry’s diary, are nearly three thousand
five hundred pounds.
Early in July, 1806, after his return from down the river, Henry made
preparations to set off on a tour to the south-west, to the country
of the Mandans, who then, as now, lived on the Missouri River. There
had been heavy rains, and the plains of the Red River were covered
with water, or else were so muddy that travel was slow and exceedingly
laborious. The horses often sank up to their knees in mud, and at
times had water up to their bellies, while the little rivulets which
they crossed they were obliged to swim, carrying on their heads such
articles as they wished to keep dry. Mosquitoes were a veritable
plague, and Henry had prepared a mask of thin dressed caribou skin,
which in some measure protected him; but those who were not provided
with some defense suffered terribly. Only when the wind blew was there
any relief. They were more than once obliged to make rafts, and when
they were naked, hauling the raft back and forth, they had no defense
against the mosquitoes. The horses suffered as much as the men.
The final start for the Mandans was from the establishment on Mouse
River, and the party consisted of seven persons, of whom one was
a Saulteur, a brother-in-law of Chaboillez, who had undertaken to
guide the party to the Mandans. It was midsummer, and they travelled
west-southwest over delightful prairies, where antelope were
exceedingly abundant. After crossing Mouse River, they found buffalo
in great plenty, and all in motion, from east to west. It was the
rutting season, and the herds were noisy and excited. On the 18th of
July, as they were crossing the high Missouri plains, they came in
sight of the buttes, called Maison du Chien, now commonly known as the
Dogden Buttes. This is one of the great landmarks of the country, and
many stirring adventures have taken place within sight of it. A little
later they could see the high red banks of the Missouri before them, a
long way off.
When they reached it, they found plenty of tracks of people there,
and an abundance of last year’s corncobs. The winter village of the
Minitaris was near. A well-defined trail led down the river, and they
were several times in danger of breaking their necks in deep pits,
which the natives had dug in the path to catch wolves and foxes in
winter. Some of these were ten feet deep, and hollowed out in places
to about thirty feet in circumference, while the entrance was no wider
than a foot-path, and about five feet in length. “These holes are
covered with dried grass, at the season when the wolves are caught,
and every morning are found to contain some of those animals. In
summer the grass grows strong and high about the mouths, entirely
concealing them until one arrives upon the very brink, and he is in
danger of tumbling in headlong.” Down the river about five miles they
came to a Mandan village. The people received them pleasantly, and
the Black Cat, the chief, took them to one of his houses, which was
kept for strangers. The people were desirous of trading, and could
not understand why the white men should have come so far out of mere
curiosity. As usual in these permanent villages of earth lodges, the
horses at night were confined in one part of the lodge while the people
slept in the other. The Mandans had large earthen pots of different
sizes, from five gallons to one quart, used solely for boiling corn
and beans. The Black Cat was told the next day by a Canadian who lived
in the neighboring Mandan village, who his visitors were, and at once
brought out the American flag, given him in the autumn of 1804 by
Captains Lewis and Clark, and hoisted it over the hut in which the
strangers were staying. When they were about to cross the river and go
to the opposite village, they packed up such goods as they had, and
the few things they had purchased, chiefly provisions, and gave them
into the care of the chief. “These people are much given to thieving,
but in the hut in which a stranger is lodged his property may be left
in perfect security; none dare touch it, as the master conceives his
honor concerned in whatever is placed under his immediate protection.
Out of doors, if they can pick your pocket or pilfer any article, it
is gone in an instant, and search would be in vain; every one would
wish to appear innocent, although they are not offended when accused of
stealing, but laugh the matter away.”
Henry and his people crossed the river in bull-boats, and were well
received at the other Mandan village. He noted the expertness of the
young men in getting the horses across, one swimming ahead with the
rope in his teeth, while others swam on each side, and in the rear,
driving each horse very rapidly. He also saw bull-boats--a new vessel
to him. They had hardly reached the village when there came in some
Pawnees from down the river on an embassy to treat for peace. They
could not speak the language either of the Mandans or the Minitaris,
but they talked freely in signs; and this sign language seems to have
been a surprise to Henry. He says: “They hold conversations for several
hours upon different subjects, during the whole of which time not a
single word is pronounced upon either side, and still they appear to
comprehend each other perfectly well. This mode of communication is
natural to them. Their gestures are made with the greatest ease, and
they never seem to be at a loss for a sign to express their meaning.”
These people collected their fuel in the spring, when the ice broke
up, and great quantities of wood drifted down. The young men were
accustomed to swim out among the drifting ice and bring in the trees,
however large, which they hauled out on the bank. Immense piles of
driftwood were seen opposite each village, and some of the trees were
very large. While collecting this driftwood, they also drew to land
great numbers of drowned buffalo, of which they were very fond.
He noticed--as have many others--that some children were gray-haired,
and that others were blond. A Minitari was seen with yellow hair,
something not unexampled in old times.
The men wore their hair twisted into a number of small tails, hanging
down the back to below the waist. In some of them it trailed on the
ground. The Cheyennes to-day tell us that a hundred years ago the men
of their tribe wore their hair in the same fashion. From the village of
the Mandans they went on up the river to those of the Soulier [Amahami,
a tribe now extinct] and Minitari villages. Here they met Mackenzie and
Caldwell, employees in the service of the Northwest Company, who had
been residing some little time in the village.
Henry was not particularly well pleased with his reception here, and
indeed the Indians paid little attention to the white men, and seemed
to despise them. The village, which formerly contained nine hundred
houses, now had only a hundred and thirty, smallpox and other diseases
having reduced them to that number. While in this village the white
men found it dangerous to stray out of the hut without a stout stick
to keep off the dogs, which were so numerous and savage as sometimes
actually to attack them. The people had many horses. Henry greatly
objected to their custom of apparently becoming dissatisfied with their
bargain after a trade had been concluded, and returning and taking back
the article they had sold, while giving up the price paid for it. For
example: “One of the natives had a turkey cock’s tail, great numbers
of which they got from the Schians, and which serve them as fans; this
was a new and fresh one of beautiful hue. I gave him five rounds of
ammunition for it, with which he appeared well satisfied, and left me,
but soon returned with the ammunition, and demanded the tail. Being
loth to part with it, I added five more rounds to the price, which he
accepted and went away. However, he soon reappeared and I added four
more; but to no purpose, for he continued to go and come until the
payment amounted to thirty rounds. Upon his next appearance I offered
forty rounds; but he would no longer listen to any offer, threw down my
ammunition, and insisted upon my returning him the tail, which I was
obliged to do.”