War with the Blackfeet Indians.
Unsuccessful Trapping.--Disastrous March to Fort Hall.--The Feast
upon Horse-flesh.--The Hunting Expedition.--Its Rare
Attractions.--Dogged by the Blackfeet.--Safe Arrival at the
Fort.--All their Animals Stolen by the Indians.--Expedition to
the Blackfeet Country.--Winter Quarters with the Friendly
Indians.--Sufferings of the Animals.--Return to the Blackfeet
Country.--Battle with the Indians.--Incidents of the Battle.
At the close of the summer months the rendezvous was broken up, and all
parties scattered; the traders to their homes, within the precincts of
civilization, and the trappers to the savage wilderness. Kit Carson joined
a party bound to the upper waters of the Yellowstone river. This is a
large stream with many tributaries, all of which take their rise amidst
the eastern ravines of the Rocky mountains, pouring their united flood
into the Missouri at Fort William. From the head waters of the river, to
the point where it enters the Missouri, there is a distance of five or six
hundred miles, of perhaps as wild a country as can be found on this
continent.
Here, amidst these rugged defiles, the mountaineers set their traps. But
they caught no beaver. They then struck across the country, in a southeast
direction, a distance of one or two hundred miles, to the Big Horn river,
another large tributary of the Yellowstone. Here again they were
unsuccessful. They then journeyed westward, several hundred miles, to what
are called the Three Forks of the Missouri river. Here again they set
their traps in vain. Our disappointed but persistent trappers turned their
footsteps south, and having travelled about two hundred miles, passing
through one of the defiles of the Rocky mountains, they reached the head
waters of the Big Snake river. This is a large stream, some six hundred
miles in length, which pours its flood through the Columbia river into the
Pacific Ocean.
Here Kit Carson met a Mr. McCoy, formerly a trader in the employment of
the Hudson Bay Company, but who was now out on a trapping excursion. With
the consent of his companions, Kit Carson and five others withdrew from
the larger party to join their fortunes with Mr. McCoy. A rumor had
reached them that abundance of beaver were to be found at a distance of
about one hundred and fifty miles, on Mary's river, since called the
Humboldt. Here again they were doomed to disappointment. They followed
down this stream, trapping in vain, for a hundred miles, till its waters
were lost in what is called the Great Basin.
These hardy adventurers now directed their steps north, and after
traversing a country, most of it wild and barren, about two hundred miles
in extent, again reached the banks of the Snake river, midway between its
source and its mouth. Here the company divided. Mr. McCoy set out to trap
down the stream, about one hundred and fifty miles, to Fort Walla Walla,
which was near the junction of this river with the Columbia.
Kit Carson and his band followed up the stream about the same distance,
trapping most of the way. They, however, encountered continued
disappointments. The region they traversed was dreary and barren in the
extreme. Often there was no game to be found. They were brought to the
very verge of starvation. For some time they subsisted upon nutritious
roots, which they had adopted the precaution to take with them. When these
were exhausted they were reduced to the greatest straits, and could be
only saved from starving by bleeding the mules and drinking the warm
blood. This is a resource which could not be repeated. The animals were
also very poor, though enough of dry and scanty grass was found to keep
them alive.
The whole party became frightfully emaciated, and they began to fear that
they should be compelled to kill some of their mules. But the men
themselves had become so weak it was with difficulty they could carry
their rifles. The loss of any of these useful beasts of burden would
terribly enhance their peril. It might compel them to abandon, not only
their traps, but also their rifles and their ammunition. In this dreadful
emergency they came across a band of Indians who proved to be friendly.
But the savages were also in an extremely destitute condition.
Fortunately for both parties there was water at hand, and the withered
herbage furnished the animals with sustenance. The Indians had a young
horse which was respectably fat. It required all of Kit Carson's
diplomatic skill and knowledge of the Indian character to induce the
Indians to part with the animal. It was not until after much maneuvering
that they succeeded in obtaining him. He was immediately killed and eaten.
To the hungry men, the horse flesh afforded as delicious a feast as
epicure ever found in the most costly viands.
At last Kit Carson and his men reached Fort Hall. Here they were, of
course, kindly received by their countrymen, and all their wants were
immediately and abundantly supplied. This fort was then mainly occupied as
a trading post. As the men were neither sick nor wounded, but only half
starved, they found themselves in a few days quite recruited, and ready
again for any adventure of enterprise and hardship. During their sojourn
at the fort the men were not idle. They had their saddles, clothing and
moccasins to repair. All their outfit was in the condition of a ship which
has just weathered a storm with loss of anchor, sails, spars, and leaking
badly.
Having finished their repairs the party, in good condition, with their
mules, set out on a hunting expedition. They were told that in a fertile
region, about fifty miles south of them, large herds of buffaloes had
recently been seen. The weather was delightful. They were all in good
spirits. It was trapper philosophy never to anticipate evil,--never to
borrow any trouble. At a rapid pace they marched through a pleasant,
luxuriant well watered region, entirely forgetful of past sufferings.
On the evening of the second day, as they were emerging from a forest,
there was opened before them a scene of remarkable beauty and grandeur.
Far as the eye could extend towards the south, east and west an undulating
prairie spread, with its wilderness of flowers of every gorgeous hue,
waving in the evening breeze like the gently heaving ocean. The sun was
just setting in a cloudless sky, illuminating with extraordinary
brilliance the enchanting scene. Here and there in the distance of the
boundless plain, a few clumps of trees were scattered, as if nature had
arranged them with the special purpose of decorating the Eden-like
landscape. But that which cheered the hunters more than all the other
aspects of sublimity and loveliness, were the immense herds, grazing on
the apparently limitless prairie. Many of these herds numbered thousands
and yet they appeared but like little spots scattered over the vast
expanse. The hunter had found his paradise; for there were other varieties
of game in that luxuriant pasture, elk, deer, antelopes and there was room
enough for them all.
Our adventurers immediately selected a spot for their camp on the edge of
the forest, near a bubbling spring. With great alacrity they reared their
hut, and arranged all the apparatus for camping, with which they were
abundantly supplied. Poles were cut from the forest, and planted in the
open sunny prairie, with ropes of hide stretched upon them. Upon these
ropes they were to suspend strips of buffalo meat to be cured by drying in
the sun. Every thing was prepared over night for the commencement of
operations in the early dawn. The best marksmen were selected for hunters.
They were to go into the prairie, shoot the game and bring it in. The rest
were detailed to cut up the meat and hang it on the ropes to dry. After
it was sufficiently dried, they were to take it down, and pack it closely
in bundles for transportation.
These were halcyon days, and abundant was the harvest of game which these
bold reapers were gathering. During the days thus spent, in shooting the
game and curing the meat, the hunters lived upon the fat of the land. The
tongue and liver of the buffalo, and the peculiar fat, found along the
spine are deemed great delicacies.
In a few days a sufficient supply had been obtained to load all their pack
animals. So heavily were they laden that their homeward journey was very
slow. They were followed by a foe, of whom they had not the slightest
conception. A band of Blackfeet Indians had discerned them from the far
distance with their keen eyes. Keeping carefully concealed, they watched
every movement of the unconscious hunters. When the party commenced its
return they dogged their steps; in the darkness creeping near their
encampment at night, watching for an opportunity to stampede their animals
and to rob them of their treasure. Though Kit Carson had no suspicion that
any savages were on his trail, his constitutional caution baffled all
their cunning.
The fort was reached in safety, and the abundance which they brought was
hailed with rejoicing. The party of hunters encamped just outside the
pickets of the fort, where there was good pasturage for their animals, and
where they could watch them. The inmates of the fort had fenced in a large
field or barnyard which they called a _corral_. Into this yard at night
they drove their animals, from the prairie, and placed a guard over them.
At any time a band of savages might, like an apparition, come shrieking
down upon the animals to bear them away in the terrors of a stampede, or
might silently, in midnight gloom, steal towards them and lead them
noiselessly away one by one.
Two or three nights after the arrival of the hunters at the fort, all the
horses and mules were driven, as usual, into the enclosure; the bars were
put up and a sentinel was placed on duty. It so happened that the
sentinel, that night, was an inexperienced hand; a new comer, not familiar
with the customs of the fort. He was stationed, at a slight distance from
the enclosure, where he could watch all its approaches, and give the alarm
should any band of Indians appear. He supposed that a large, well mounted
band alone would attempt the hazardous enterprise of capturing the
animals.
The latter part of the night, just before the dawn of the morning, he saw
two men advance, without any disguise, deliberately let down the bars and
drive out the horses and mules. He supposed them to be two of the inmates
of the fort or some of his own companions, who were authorized to take out
the herd to graze upon the prairie. Concluding therefore that he was
relieved from duty, he returned to his camp and was soon fast asleep.
In the morning the horses and mules had all disappeared. They were nowhere
to be seen. There was hurrying to and fro, for a solution of the mystery,
when a short investigation revealed the true state of affairs. The cunning
Indians had come in a strong party, well mounted, and were concealed at a
short distance. Two of their number had gone forward and driven out the
animals. The horses and mules are always ready to rush along with any herd
leading them.
Placing the stolen animals between the van and the rear guards of their
steeds, the Indians moved cautiously until they had gained some little
distance from the fort. Then giving the rein to their powerful charges,
with the fleetness of the wind they fled, over the hills and through the
valleys, to their wild and distant fastnesses.
Not a single animal was left for the garrison or the trappers upon which
to give chase. The Indians, who have but little sense of right and wrong,
might well exult in their achievement. Without the loss of a single man,
and even without receiving a wound, they had taken from beneath the very
walls of the fort, its whole herd, leaving the garrison powerless to
pursue. The loss was very severe to the trappers. Without their horses and
mules, they could do nothing. It only remained for them to wait for the
return of Mr. McCoy and his party, who had promised, after visiting Fort
Walla Walla, to rendezvous at Fort Hall.
The Blackfeet Indians were at that time, forty years ago, the terror of
the whole region. It is said that the warlike tribe numbered thirty
thousand souls. Of course there could not have been any very accurate
estimate of the population. Not long after this the small-pox prevailed,
with awful fatality. One half of the tribe perished. The dead were left
unburied, as the savages endeavored to flee in all directions from the
fearful pestilence.
A month passed slowly away before Mr. McCoy with his party reached the
fort. Very opportunely he brought a fresh supply of animals; having
purchased a number at Fort Walla Walla. The united band returned to the
Green river. Here Mr. Carson joined a party of one hundred trappers who,
in their strength, were to plunge into the very heart of the Blackfeet
country, on the Yellowstone river.
Arriving at the region where they were to set their traps, they divided
into two companies of fifty men each. It was necessary to be always armed
and on the alert, ready to repel any sudden attack. The duty of one
company was to explore the streams in search of beavers and game for food.
The other party guarded the camp, dressed, rudely tanned, and packed the
skins, and cooked the food. The trappers were so strong, that they not
only went where they pleased, but they were eager to come in contact with
the savages, that they might pay off old scores. They were, however, not
molested. Not an Indian crossed their path. They subsequently learned, as
a solution of the mystery, that at that time the small-pox was making
dreadful ravages. Thousands were dying and it was feared the whole tribe
would perish. The Indians in their terror, had secluded themselves in the
remotest solitudes.
Winter was now approaching, with its freezing gales, its drifting snows,
its icy streams. It was necessary to find winter quarters for two or three
months. The region, drained by the Yellowstone and its tributaries,
extends over thousands of square miles. In one portion of the territory
there was a mountainous region inhabited by the Crow Indians. As they were
the deadly foe of the Blackfeet tribe, they were disposed to cultivate
friendly relations with the whites, and to enter into an alliance with
them.
Quite a large band of the Crow Indians joined the trappers, and conducted
them to one of their most sheltered valleys. Here they reared their huts
and lodges. The mountain ridges broke the force of the cold north wind.
They had water and fuel in abundance. Game was not scarce and they had
also an ample supply of dried meat in store. But as the season advanced,
the cold became increasingly severe, until at last it was more intense
than the trappers had ever before experienced. Still the trappers, with
their rousing fires and abundant clothing, found no difficulty in keeping
warm.
But the animals suffered terribly. Snow covered the valleys to such a
depth, that they could obtain no food by grazing. It was with the utmost
difficulty they kept the animals alive. They cut down cottonwood trees and
thawed the bark and small branches by their fires. This bark was then torn
into shreds, sufficiently small for the animal to chew. The rough outside
bark was thrown aside, and the tender inner bark, which comes next the
body of the tree, was carefully peeled off for food. There is sufficient
nutrition in this barely to keep the animals alive for a time, but they
can by no means thrive under it.
Quite a company of Indians reared their lodges in the same valley with the
trappers. In the pleasant days they vied with each other, in various
athletic games, and particularly in their skill in hunting. Both parties
were very happy in this truly paternal intercourse. There were no
quarrels, for there was no whiskey there. One barrel of intoxicating drink
would have changed kindly greetings into hateful brawls, and would have
crimsoned many knives. Independently of the anxiety, the trappers felt for
their suffering animals, the six or eight weeks of wintry cold passed away
very pleasantly. The returning sun of spring poured its warmth into the
sheltered valley, melting the snows and releasing the streams. With
wonderful rapidity the swelling bud gave place to leaves and blossoms. The
green grass sprang up on the mounds, the animals rejoiced and began even
to prance in their new-found vigor. The winter had gone and the time for
the singing of birds had come.
The trappers were in need of certain supplies, before they could
advantageously set out on their spring hunting tour. They therefore sent
two of their party to obtain these supplies at Fort Laramie, which was one
or two hundred miles south of them, on the Platte river. They did not
return. They were never heard from. It is probable that they fell into the
hands of hostile Indians, who killed them and took possession of all their
effects. This was another of those innumerable tragedies, ever occurring
in this wicked world, which are only recorded in God's book of
remembrance.
The trappers, after waiting for their companions for some time, were
compelled to enter upon their spring hunt without them. They continued for
some time setting their traps on the Yellowstone river, and then struck
over to what is called the Twenty five yard river. After spending a few
weeks there, they pushed on to the upper waters of the Missouri, where
those waters flow through the most rugged ravines of the Rocky mountains.
Here again they were in the vicinity of their Blackfeet foes. And they
learned, through some wanderer in the wilderness, that the main village of
that tribe was at the distance of but a few miles from them.
In the previous collisions between the Blackfeet and the trappers, the
Indians had gained decidedly the advantage. They had at one time driven
the trappers entirely out of their country, having stolen their traps, and
effectually prevented them from taking furs. In the conflict, in which Kit
Carson was wounded, the Indians had retired, though with loss, still
victorious, carrying with them all their booty of stolen horses. Most
humiliating of all, they had, without firing a shot, captured all the
animals of the garrison and the trappers at Fort Hall. And it was most
probable that they had robbed and murdered the two men who had been sent
to fort Laramie.
The trappers were all burning to avenge these wrongs. The thievish
Blackfeet had made these assaults upon them entirely unprovoked. The
savages were greatly elated with their victories, and it was deemed
essential that they should be so thoroughly chastised, that they would no
longer molest those who were hunting and trapping within those wild
solitudes. The whole party of trappers struck the trail which led to the
Indian encampment, and cautiously followed it, until they were within ten
or fifteen miles of their foes.
The company, numbering a hundred men, with one or two hundred horses and
mules, presented a very imposing cavalcade. A council of war was held, and
Kit Carson, with five picked men was sent forward to reconnoitre the
position of the village, and to decide upon the best points of attack. The
rest of the company retired to some little distance from the trail, where
they concealed themselves, obliterating, as far as possible, their tracks.
It was deemed necessary to proceed with the utmost caution. The Blackfeet
composed one of the most numerous and ferocious of all the Indian tribes.
Their warriors were numbered by thousands. It was certain that they would
fight, and that a high degree of intelligence would guide them in the
battle.
After the lapse of a few hours, Kit Carson returned from his perilous
adventure. He had attained an eminence from which he could look down upon
the valleys of the foe, which was in one part of an extended plain in the
midst of hills. He reported that there was some great agitation in the
camp. There were runnings to and fro, driving in the animals from their
pasturage, saddling and packing them, and sundry other preparations
indicative of a general alarm. It might be that their braves were entering
on the war-path. It might be that they were preparing for flight. It was
not improbable that, through their scouts, they had gained intimation of
the approach of the trappers. A council of war was held. Promptly it was
decided to send out forty-three men, under the leadership of Kit Carson to
give the Blackfeet battle. The remaining men, fifty-five in number, were
left, under Mr. Fontenelle, to discharge the responsible duty of guarding
the animals and the equipage. They were also to move slowly on, as a
reserve force, who could rush to the aid of the advanced force, or upon
which those men could fall back in case of disaster.
They soon reached the village. It was pretty evident that they were
expected. But the savages had only bows and arrows. This gave the
assailants an immense advantage. They had both rifles and pistols. Taking
a circuitous route, they approached the village from an unexpected
quarter. They were scarcely seen before a discharge of their guns struck
down ten of the bravest warriors. But at that time it was an encampment
rather than a village, occupied mainly by fighting men, who greatly
outnumbered their assailants. The Indians fought heroically. Each man
instantly sprang behind some tree where, protected, he could watch his
opportunity and keep his foe at a distance. When a rifle was once
discharged, it took some time to reload; but the Indians could throw a
dozen arrows in a minute, with sinewy arms, with sure aim and with deadly
power.
The battle was mainly in the forest, neither party being willing to
encounter the exposure of the open plain. The Indians, behind the trees,
watched their opportunity. As there were several Indians to one white man,
and the trappers were necessarily dispersed, seeking the protection of the
trees, the Indians, as soon as a rifle was discharged, would dodge from
tree to tree, ever drawing nearer to their assailants. For three hours
this battle continued. The ammunition of the trappers was nearly
exhausted, and they remitted the energy of their fire, awaiting the
arrival of their companions. The Indians comprehended the state of things
and sagaciously resolved to make a simultaneous charge, before the
trappers should have opportunity to replenish their powder-horns and
bullet-pouches.
There was a distance of many rods between the two contending parties. The
ground was mainly level, and there was no underbrush to intercept the
view. The trappers saw and understood the movement for the charge. Every
man was prepared, with his loaded rifle and revolver. On came the Indians,
dodging, as they could, from tree to tree, but with an impetuosity of
onset which excited the admiration of their opponents. The forest
resounded with their shrill war-whoop. Carson requested every man to
withhold his fire until sure of his aim. "Let not a single shot," said he,
"be lost." It was a fearful moment, for upon that moment depended the life
of every man in the party. Should the outnumbering Indians succeed in
passing the narrow intervening space, the trappers would inevitably be
overpowered and from the spear-heads of the savages, forty-three scalps
would be waved as the banners of their victory.
There was no simultaneous discharge but a rattling fire, occupying perhaps
sixty seconds. Forty-three Indian warriors were struck by the bullets.
Eleven fell instantly dead; the others were more or less crippled by
their wounds. Still the brave Indians rushed on, when suddenly there was
opened upon them another deadly fire from the revolvers. This was a
reinforcement of the strength of their foes which the savages had not
anticipated. They hesitated, staggered as if smitten by a heavy blow, and
then slowly and sullenly retreated, until they were far beyond pistol
range. Some of the mountaineers were on horseback to carry swift aid to
any imperilled comrade. Kit Carson was also mounted and with his eagle eye
was watching every act of his little army.
One of his aids, a mountaineer by the name of Cotton, was thrown from his
horse, which slipped upon some smooth stones, and fell upon his rider,
fastening him helpless to the ground. Six Indians near by rushed, with
exultant yells and gleaming tomahawks, for his scalp. Kit Carson, calling
on two or three to follow him, sprang from his horse and with the speed of
an antelope was by the side of his fallen comrade. The crack of his rifle
was instantly heard; the foremost of the savages gave one convulsive
bound, uttered a death cry and fell weltering in his blood. The rest
immediately fled, but before they could reach a place of safety three more
were struck down by the balls of those who had followed Carson. Two only
of the six savages escaped.