FREMONT
I
The inequality with which fame distributes her favors has always
been a fertile subject for moralist and philosopher. One man may do
great things, and yet through innate modesty, or ill fortune of some
sort, may make no impression on the popular imagination; so that
his deeds are soon forgotten. Another, by a series of fortunately
narrated adventures of relatively much less difficulty and danger,
may acquire the name of having accomplished great things. Zebulon M.
Pike, the explorer, was a man of the first kind. John C. Fremont,
commonly spoken of as the Pathfinder, and by many people believed
to have been the discoverer of the Rocky Mountains, belonged to the
second class. The work that Fremont did was good work, but it was
not great. He was an army officer, sent out to survey routes across
the continent; and he did his duty, and did it well; but he did not
discover the Rocky Mountains, nor did he discover gold in California,
as often supposed. He passed over routes already well known to the men
of the plains and the mountains, and discovered little that was new,
except the approximate location of many points. Nevertheless, in his
two expeditions, which cover the years 1842 and 1843, and 1844, he
traversed ten thousand miles of wilderness, between the Missouri River
and the shores of the Pacific; and he connected the surveys of the
State of Missouri with those made by the Wilkes expedition at the mouth
of the Columbia. This involved much labor and hardship, and was of high
value at the time, but it is not to be compared with the work done by
Lewis and Clark, and Pike; and the fact that Fremont gained great fame
while his predecessors seemed until recently to be almost forgotten,
seems unjust.
Fremont’s first expedition went only as far as the Rocky Mountains,
terminating at the South Pass and Fremont’s Peak. The second, which
reached those mountains by another route, crossed them at the South
Pass, and proceeded West to the Oregon River--the Columbia--and
northern California.
The story of these two journeys is embodied in a report addressed to
the Chief of the Corps of Topographical Engineers, and published in
Washington in 1845.
Although a formal report, made by an army officer, and written in
the ordinary style of an itinerary of the daily march, yet Fremont’s
account of his travels is told with much vividness; and quite apart
from the interest which attaches to it as a description of the still
unexplored West, it attracts by its graphic style. The accounts of the
hunting, encounters with Indians, and mountain climbing are spirited;
and the descriptions of wild scenery show real feeling.
[Illustration: MAJOR-GENERAL JOHN C. FREMONT.]
Fremont’s party consisted of Charles Preuss, his assistant in
topography; L. Maxwell, a hunter, with Kit Carson as guide. L. Maxwell
and Kit Carson had long before this both been employed at Bent’s
old fort--Fort William. They had married sisters, daughters of Mr.
Beaubien of Taos, N. M., who a few years later was killed in the Pueblo
rising at Taos. He had over twenty Frenchmen, Creoles, and Canadian
voyageurs, old prairie men, who had been servants of the fur companies.
Among these men are such names as Lambert, L’Esperance, Lefevre,
Lajeunesse, Cadotte, Clément, Simonds, Latulippe, Badeau, Chardonnais,
and Janisse. The children and grandchildren of some, perhaps of many
of these men, are still living, at various points in the West, and
still bear the names of their ancestors. Joseph Clément, for example,
probably a son of old man Clément, lives to-day on the Standing Rock
Indian Reservation, in South Dakota. Nicholas and Antoine Jeunesse, or
Janisse, a few years ago were still alive, one at Pine Ridge, the other
at Whetstone Agency, in South Dakota. Antoine Janisse died at Pine
Ridge in 1897 and his brother Nicholas about 1905.
The expedition started on Friday, June 10, from Cyprian Chouteau’s
trading-post, near the mouth of the Kansas River, and marched up that
stream. Their baggage, instruments and provisions were carried in mule
carts, of which they had eight; and the men, except the drivers of
these carts, were mounted; and some of them drove loose horses. A few
oxen were taken along for food. They marched up the Kansas River, and
from time to time purchased milk, butter, and vegetables at Indian
farms, a condition of things which indicates that the Indians at that
time were further advanced toward civilization and self-support than
many of them seem to be at the present day. It was the practice to
encamp an hour or two before sunset, when the carts were arranged so as
to form a sort of barricade, or at least to mark the boundaries of a
circle about the camp, eighty yards in diameter.
“The tents were pitched and the horses hobbled and turned loose to
graze; and but a few minutes elapsed before the cooks of the messes,
of which there were four, were busily engaged in preparing the evening
meal.... When we had reached a part of the country where such a
precaution became necessary, the carts being regularly arranged for
defending the camp, guard was mounted at eight o’clock, consisting of
three men, who were relieved every two hours; the morning watch being
horse guard for the day. At daybreak the camp was roused, the animals
turned loose to graze, and breakfast generally over between six and
seven o’clock, when we resumed our march, making regularly a halt at
noon for one or two hours.”
During his march up the Kansas River, Fremont speaks of passing a
large but deserted Kansas village, “scattered in an open wood along
the margin of the stream, on a spot chosen with the customary Indian
fondness for beauty of scenery. The Pawnees had attacked it in the
early spring. Some of the houses were burnt, and others blackened
with smoke, and weeds were already getting possession of the cleared
places.” June 17 they crossed the Big Vermillion, and Big Blue; and
saw their first antelope; while Carson brought in a fine deer. They
were now on the trail of a party of emigrants to Oregon, and found many
articles that they had thrown away. Game began to be abundant; there
were flocks of turkeys in the bottom of the Little Blue; elk were seen
on the hills, and antelope and deer abounded. When they reached the
Pawnee country, many were the tales told of the craft and daring of
these independent people. One morning they had a genuine Indian alarm;
a man who was somewhat behind the party, rode up in haste, shouting,
“Indians! Indians!” He stated that he had seen them, and had counted
twenty-seven. The command was at once halted, and the usual precautions
made for defence, while Carson, mounting one of the hunting horses, set
out to learn the cause of the alarm. “Mounted on a fine horse, without
a saddle, and scouring bareheaded over the prairie, Kit was one of the
finest pictures of a horseman I have ever seen. A short time enabled
him to discover that the Indian war party of twenty-seven consisted of
six elk who had been gazing curiously at our caravan as it passed, and
were now scampering off at full speed. This was our first alarm, and
its excitement broke agreeably on the monotony of the day.”
The party now crossed over to the Platte River--which Fremont calls the
Nebraska--and encamped on its banks. Two days later, while they were
halted for noon, there came the startling cry, “_Du monde!_”--people.
In a moment all were prepared for defence. Horses were driven in,
hobbled and picketed, and the horsemen were galloping at full speed in
the direction of the new-comers, screaming and yelling with the wildest
excitement. The travellers proved to be a small party, under the charge
of a man named John Lee, which had left Fort Laramie two months before,
endeavoring to transport the furs of the American Fur Company down the
Platte by boat; they had started with the annual flood, but before they
had travelled one hundred and fifty miles found that their waterway
had become too shoal for their boats; they had therefore cached their
possessions, and had started east on foot, carrying on their backs
their provisions, clothing, and a few light furs. It was from among
this party that Fremont engaged Latulippe, who, though on his way to
St. Louis, really had no special desire to go there, and was quite
willing to turn about and face the West again.
The same day three Cheyennes were met, returning from an unsuccessful
horse-stealing expedition against the Pawnee village. They joined
the party, and for some days afterward travelled in its company.
On the 29th the first buffalo were seen, and on the following day
these animals swarmed “in immense numbers over the plain, where they
had left scarcely a blade of grass standing.” “We had heard from a
distance a dull and confused murmuring, and when we came in view of
their dark masses there was not one among us who did not feel his
heart beat quicker. It was the early part of the day, when the herds
are feeding, and everywhere they were in motion. Here and there a
huge old bull was rolling in the grass, and clouds of dust rose in the
air from various parts of the bands, each the scene of some obstinate
fight. Indians and buffalo make the poetry and life of the prairie,
and our camp was full of their exhilaration.” Here first they feasted
on buffalo meat. Fremont says: “At any time of the night might be
seen pieces of the most delicate and choicest meat, roasting _en
appolas_, on sticks around the fire, and the guard were never without
company. With pleasant weather and no enemy to fear, an abundance of
the most excellent meat, and no scarcity of bread or tobacco, they
were enjoying the oasis of a voyageur’s life. Three cows were killed
to-day. Kit Carson had shot one, and was continuing the chase in the
midst of another herd, when his horse fell headlong, but sprang up
and joined the flying band. Though considerably hurt, he had the good
fortune to break no bones; and Maxwell, who was mounted on a fleet
hunter, captured the runaway after a hard chase. He was on the point
of shooting him, to avoid the loss of his bridle (a handsomely mounted
Spanish one), when he found that his horse was able to come up with
him.”
The next day, July 1, Fremont himself made a chase for buffalo. He
says: “As we were riding quietly along the bank, a grand herd of
buffalo, some seven or eight hundred in number, came crowding up from
the river, where they had been to drink, and commenced crossing the
plain slowly, eating as they went. The wind was favorable; the coolness
of the morning invited to exercise, the ground was apparently good,
and the distance across the prairie (two or three miles) gave us a fine
opportunity to charge them before they could get among the river hills.
It was too fine a prospect for the chase to be lost; and, halting for a
few moments, the hunters were brought up and saddled, and Kit Carson,
Maxwell, and I started together. They were now somewhat less than half
a mile distant, and we rode easily along until within about three
hundred yards, when a sudden agitation, a wavering in the band, and
a galloping to and fro of some which were scattered along the skirts
gave us the intimation that we were discovered. We started together at
a grand gallop, riding steadily abreast of each other, and here the
interest of the chase became so engrossingly intense, that we were
sensible to nothing else. We were now closing upon them rapidly, and
the front of the mass was already in rapid motion for the hills, and in
a few seconds the movement had communicated itself to the whole herd.
“A crowd of bulls, as usual, brought up the rear, and every now and
then some of them faced about, and then dashed on after the band a
short distance, and turned and looked again, as if more than half
inclined to stand and fight. In a few moments, however, during which
we had been quickening our pace, the rout was universal, and we were
going over the ground like a hurricane. When at about thirty yards we
gave the usual shout (the hunter’s _pas de charge_), and broke into the
herd. We entered on the side, the mass giving way in every direction
in their heedless course. Many of the bulls, less active and less
fleet than the cows, paying no attention to the ground, and occupied
solely with the hunter, were precipitated to the earth with great
force, rolling over and over with the violence of the shock, and hardly
distinguishable in the dust. We separated on entering, each singling
out his game.
“My horse was a trained hunter, famous in the West under the name
of Proveau, and, with his eyes flashing, and the foam flying from
his mouth, sprang on after the cow like a tiger. In a few moments he
brought me alongside of her, and, rising in the stirrups, I fired at
the distance of a yard, the ball entering at the termination of the
long hair, and passing near the heart. She fell headlong at the report
of the gun, and, checking my horse, I looked around for my companions.
At a little distance, Kit was on the ground, engaged in tying his
horse to the horns of a cow which he was preparing to cut up. Among
the scattered bands, at some distance below, I caught a glimpse of
Maxwell; and while I was looking, a light wreath of white smoke curled
away from his gun, from which I was too far to hear the report. Nearer,
and between me and the hills, toward which they were directing their
course, was the body of the herd, and, giving my horse the rein, we
dashed after them. A thick cloud of dust hung upon their rear, which
filled my mouth and eyes, and nearly smothered me. In the midst of
this I could see nothing, and the buffalo were not distinguishable
until within thirty feet. They crowded together more densely still as I
came upon them, and rushed along in such a compact body, that I could
not obtain an entrance--the horse almost leaping upon them. In a few
moments the mass divided to the right and left, the horns clattering
with a noise heard above everything else, and my horse darted into
the opening. Five or six bulls charged on us as we dashed along the
line, but were left far behind; and, singling out a cow, I gave her my
fire, but struck too high. She gave a tremendous leap, and scoured on
swifter than before. I reined up my horse, and the band swept on like a
torrent, and left the place quiet and clear. Our chase had led us into
dangerous ground. A prairie-dog village, so thickly settled that there
were three or four holes in every twenty yards square, occupied the
whole bottom for nearly two miles in length. Looking around, I saw only
one of the hunters, nearly out of sight, and the long dark line of our
caravan crawling along, three or four miles distant.”
Continuing up the Platte River, Fremont reached the junction of the
North and South Platte, on the 2d of July. He now divided his forces,
sending one party up the North Platte to Fort Laramie, and another up
the South Platte to St. Vrain’s fort, and thence across country to a
meeting point at Fort Laramie. This last party he determined to take
charge of himself, taking Mr. Preuss, and four of his best men. The
Cheyennes, whose village was supposed to be on the South Platte, also
decided to accompany him. The party for the North Fork was to be in
charge of Clément Lambert. The separation took place July 5. The party
following up the South Platte took one led horse, and a pack-mule, and
travelled very light. The cook had been ordered to prepare provisions
for this outfit, and they started. When they stopped for noon, however,
they discovered that the provisions they supposed they were carrying,
had been left behind, and they had nothing to eat except the meat of a
poor bull that they had killed during the day. As the trip promised to
be a hard one, Fremont sent two of his men, Preuss and Bernier, across
the country to rejoin those who were travelling up the North branch of
the river.
Buffalo were abundant, and an incident of the march was a bull fight on
a large scale, which the travellers intercepted: “In the course of the
afternoon, dust rising among the hills at a particular place, attracted
our attention; and riding up, we found a band of eighteen or twenty
buffalo bulls engaged in a desperate fight. Though butting and goring
were bestowed liberally, and without distinction, yet their efforts
were evidently directed against one--a huge gaunt old bull, very lean,
while his adversaries were all fat and in good order. He appeared very
weak and had already received some wounds, and, while we were looking
on, was several times knocked down and badly hurt, and a very few
moments would have put an end to him. Of course we took the side of
the weaker party, and attacked the herd; but they were so blind with
rage, that they fought on, utterly regardless of our presence, although
on foot and on horseback we were firing in open view within twenty
yards of them. But this did not last long. In a very few seconds, we
created a commotion among them. One or two, which were knocked over
by the balls, jumped up and ran off into the hills; and they began to
retreat slowly along a broad ravine to the river, fighting furiously as
they went. By the time they had reached the bottom, we had pretty well
dispersed them, and the old bull hobbled off, to lie down somewhere.
One of his enemies remained on the ground where we had first fired upon
them, and we stopped there for a short time to cut from him some meat
for our supper.”
At length they reached the post, and were cordially received by Mr. St.
Vrain.
No provisions could be had here, except a little coffee; but the way
from here to Fort Laramie was through a country supposed to abound
in buffalo, so that there was no danger of starvation. Here Fremont
obtained a couple of horses and three mules, and he also hired a
Spaniard for his trip, and took with him two others who were going to
obtain service on the Laramie River. Crossing various streams, they
passed through a pleasant buffalo country, and crossed Lodgepole Creek,
and Horse Creek, coming to Goshen’s Hole.
The party struck the North Platte thirteen miles below Fort Laramie,
and continuing up the stream, they first came in view of Fort Platte, a
post belonging to Messrs. Sybille, Adams & Co.; and from there kept on
up to Fort John, or Fort Laramie. Mr. Preuss and his party had already
reached there, but had been much alarmed by the accounts of Indian
hostilities, received from James Bridger and a large party of traders
and trappers that he was guiding eastward.