and, fearing that they might attempt to punish them for their former
actions, peacefully accepted several presents which were offered them.
Again the trappers forced their way up the swift waters, but again they
were surprised by a group of red men, who rode up the bank, and, in a
lordly and insolent manner, demanded presents similar to those which
had recently been given to their brethren. This angered the trappers,
for they appreciated the fact that the redskins wished to frighten them.
“You shall not get a single thing from us,” shouted Hunt,—a man of
great firmness. “Furthermore, if you make any more insolent demands, I
will treat you all as enemies and turn our cannon against you.”
This did not please the savages, as can be well imagined. Vowing
vengeance, and shaking their fists at the trappers, they rode off
across the prairie, while the whites were now divided into two forces;
one going up one bank, and the other taking the opposite side. Thus
they proceeded for several days, until they came to a spot where the
stream was very narrow and was filled with sand bars. A vast number of
redskins were camped upon the western bank, and Hunt was fearful that
they would soon attack. He and McLellan were in one of the boats.
“I know that they are peaceful,” said the former, “for their faces are
painted. Row to the shore!”
As they approached, the savages dropped their bows and arrows, came to
meet them joyfully, and proved to be a band of Arickaras who were at
war with the Sioux, and were thus anxious to have the white trappers
assist in fighting their battles for them. “How! How!” said they. “We
glad to see our white brothers. How! How! We wish to have sticks which
speak with the voice of thunder.”
The adventurers looked forward to rich trade with the red men but were
much surprised and angered by receiving word that the boat of Lisa—the
Spaniard—was rapidly approaching.
“That rascally fellow will ruin our work!” cried McLellan, with
considerable heat. “We must let him know, now, that we will stand no
trickery from him. If he tampers with these redskins and sets them
against me, I will let my rifle do the work of vengeance.”
The Indians, meanwhile, showed no disposition to trade, knowing that
the presence of a rival trader would ensure them better bargains. Lisa
soon arrived and was not long in discovering that he was an unwelcome
guest. McLellan had difficulty in restraining himself from wreaking a
just vengeance upon this artful “Greaser,” but fearing that he might
involve Hunt and his other friends in a quarrel, kept his own counsel.
It was, however, not for long.
Lisa agreed that he and Hunt would go to the Indian village and would
trade there, but that no advantage should be taken of one another in
the transactions with the wild riders of the plains. After a short
delay they proceeded together up the river. But the crafty Spaniard
was soon up to his old tricks and attempted to induce a certain French
Canadian, in Hunt’s employ, to leave his master.
“I will give you better wages and treatment,” said he. “Come—boy—be
one of my followers.”
This was overheard by McLellan and infuriated him. Seizing a gun, he
gave the Spaniard to understand that he had old scores to settle with
him, and that he had better get his own pistol and defend himself,
for he was soon to be shot down like a dog. “You thieving, sneaking
Greaser!” he shouted. “Now you will go to Kingdom Come in a hurry. You
should have been beneath the sod long ago.”
Fire flashed from the Spaniard’s eyes and he reached for his pistol,
but, before he could draw, the angered McLellan was seized by both
Hunt and Crooks, who took his weapon away from him and pinned him to
the ground, until he promised that he would not touch the Spaniard.
Lisa himself was careful not to again rouse the ire of the pioneer,
and, as a result, did not attempt to underbid the trade offers to the
Arickaras. Successful bartering was soon accomplished, and Hunt’s party
set about the difficult undertaking of crossing through the Rocky
Mountains and traversing the dry table-land to the Pacific coast.
You can well realize that this was a hazardous undertaking, for, not
only did the trappers have a hazy and undefined conception of the route
to follow, but there was little water in certain parts of this country,
and a great scarcity of game in others. There were sixty-two in the
adventurous band, with eighty-two pack-horses to carry luggage, guns,
and camp equipment. All were well armed and were full of determination
to succeed.
As the adventurous little body of trappers filed silently towards the
West—a few days later—the Indians collected in order to bid them
good-by. Many an old chief was seen to shake his head, as they wended
their way towards the beetling mountains, and the treacherous, though
adventurous, Lisa was heard to exclaim: “These men are fools! They
are all dead! All dead! None will ever return!” But these pessimistic
remarks did not seem to worry the followers of Hunt and McLellan. With
cheerful looks and smiling faces they kept onward towards their goal.
Soon they were in the glorious Big Horn range and were in the vicinity
of the tepees of many Indians, who were not slow in discovering their
approach. Contrary to every expectation, the red men greeted them most
hospitably, gave them dried buffalo meat, and told them how to find a
way through the rugged hills before them. These were the Cheyennes—a
war-like tribe—which had its name from the Cheyenne River. They were
soon to be driven from their hunting-grounds by the steady, westward
emigration of the whites, but were now rich in both ponies and buffalo
robes, and were much feared by the neighboring denizens of the plains:
the Crows and Ogalala Sioux.
The pioneers kept on, traded with the redskins whom they met, and
found increased dangers and difficulties in their path. It was summer,
and thousands of gnats and mosquitoes attacked both men and horses,
rendering life miserable and making it most disagreeable to proceed. I,
myself, travelled through this country in the summer of 1899, and have
never seen so many pests as here. Swarms of green-headed horse-flies
attacked our pack animals, so that they would sometimes be bloody from
their bites. Often the horses would roll upon the ground in order to
get rid of the flies, and thus would dislodge the packs, which had
taken some time to adjust. Their sting was most poisonous. Mosquitoes
were here by the millions, and we had great difficulty—even then—of
getting through the fallen timber, which sometimes extended for many
miles. These pioneers picked their way through the forests, forded the
rushing streams, ascended and descended the deep canyons, and finally
reached the headwaters of the Mad River, or Snake River, as it is
called below its junction with Henry’s Fork.
An adventurous trader named Henry had here established a trading-post,
the year before, but becoming disgusted with the Indians, who refused
to barter with him, had abandoned it. Hunt, McLellan, and their little
party, reached this spot on the eighth day of October, where they
stopped to recruit their strength. Then they engaged Indians to look
out for their horses, which they concluded to leave behind them, and
built a number of canoes with which to commit themselves to the current
of the river. They embarked, and, for a hundred miles found their
progress easy, but all at once they saw to their dismay that below
them were dangerous falls and treacherous rapids. Their journey was
blocked.
It was impossible to return to Henry’s Fork, where were their horses,
and to go on meant the destruction of all their supplies. What was
there to do? To the North was the Columbia River, but an unbroken
wilderness lay between. They must cross it, trust to luck that game
would come their way, and that their rifles would not miss it when
found. There were but a few days’ provisions left, so it was decided to
divide the party into four sections: the first, under Crooks, was to
make its way up the river to Fort Henry; the second, under McLellan,
was to continue down the Snake; while the third, under McKenzie, was to
traverse the wilderness towards the Columbia. The fourth section was to
remain for a time where it was. And it was further understood that any
party which should come across assistance or supplies should return to
the main body under Hunt, which would hold the present camp until their
leader became convinced that all had failed in their efforts to reach
their destination. Let us see how they fared.
McLellan continued his way down the rushing Snake with three
companions, but, finding that it was almost impossible to make further
progress, he deflected his line of march so as to follow the detachment
under McKenzie. Their course was over a bare and arid country where
there was no game and little water. Occasionally a jack-rabbit
scampered between the clumps of sage brush, but no one seemed to have
sufficient ability with the rifle in order to bring one down. A lean
coyote would now and again be seen, and often the weird wailing of one
of these creatures would make night hideous. The jerked buffalo meat
which they carried was soon exhausted and the adventurers began to
suffer from the gnawing pains of hunger, but on they walked with grim
and steadfast determination. Weary, footsore, and nearly exhausted,
they finally came upon McKenzie and his five companions. These
fortunately had food, which they gave to the gaunt trappers, who rested
for a full day before they could go on.
McLellan was undaunted. Trained in a hundred combats with the savages
of the West, and hardened by years of exposure, he saw no cause for
despondency. Some of the trappers, however, gave way to despair. They
were among the barren drifts and extinct craters of gigantic volcanoes,
while, through the winding fissures of its canyoned walls, the furious
torrent of the Snake River dashed, foamed, and roared beneath them.
Like a snow-white ribbon it plunged onward upon its wild career, and,
in the sobbing roar of its cataracts, some of the more weak-hearted
fancied that they heard the voices of those departed, who called to
them to follow where they had gone.
It grew cold. A fierce snow-storm came upon them. As the food supply
was gone, a dozen beaver skins were cut into strips and roasted, but
this provender only sustained life for a few days. At length the
trappers became exhausted, and, crouching under the protecting ledge
of a wall of rock, shivered before their fire, and gloomily looked
forth upon the blinding snow. All was sadness and despondency. Some
contemplated death, which they thought to be inevitable, and even the
lion-hearted McLellan lost that undaunted courage which had never
before deserted him. Could it be that they were to die before they
saw the roaring waters of the Columbia? Could it be that they were
to perish before they reached the trader’s post upon the green-gray
stretch of the Pacific Ocean?
Peering into the gloom from his rocky shelter, the keen eyes of
McLellan suddenly perceived a buffalo, which, driven to the rocky wall
by the desire to get away from the blinding snow, was crouching under
the lee of a high bluff. What could be more fortunate? Taking note
of the direction of the wind, the trapper left his hiding-place and
crawled against it, until he came within thirty yards of the beast.
Carefully he wormed his way behind a jutting ledge of rock and sand,
then—taking a good sight—touched the trigger of his rifle, and the
great lumbering brute fell dead. With a wild and hilarious cheer the
old scout dashed to where he lay and cut joyful capers around him in
the snow. “Hurray! Hurray!” he cried. “Now we will have enough food to
last us for many days. Hurray! Hurray!”
Seizing upon the carcass of the beast, the old scout rolled him down
the hill towards the cavern in which his own companions were shivering.
With a wild yell he announced his triumph and this was answered by a
hoarse cry from the half-famished trappers, who rushed upon the beast,
and, but for the warning of the old frontiersman, would have gorged
themselves upon the raw flesh, so great was their hunger.
“Hold back, my friends,” cried he. “Wait but a moment and I will give
you some cooked food. Restrain yourselves, for a few seconds, and I
will see that you get enough to save your lives. Eat the raw flesh and
you will all perish.”
It was difficult to hold back the starving trappers, but soon a fire
was lighted, the choicest parts of the buffalo were broiled upon a
ramrod, and the gaunt spectres were allowed a feast. This saved their
lives. With renewed strength they again made their way towards the
Columbia, and, meeting with an occasional buffalo which they had the
good fortune to kill, at length reached the swirling river, where a
band of roving red men supplied them with a number of canoes. They also
secured sufficient jerked meat to last them until they should reach the
coast, where the trading-post of Astoria had already been established.
To that lucky shot of McLellan’s they owed their lives.
Hunt, meanwhile, had decided that the three parties had successfully
made their way to the coast, so he had started for the Columbia.
Crooks had reached Fort Henry, where he spent his time in trapping and
in trading with the redskins. As for the trappers who had left for
Astoria by sea, they had met with an adverse fate, for the savages had
induced them to enter the mouth of a small river, when they reached the
neighborhood of the trading-post, and here had surrounded and massacred
all of the voyageurs, after the vessel had been run aground. It took
Hunt over a month to arrive at the coast. Crooks eventually followed.
He met the other trappers after a separation of five months’ duration.
After frightful privations and suffering the four parties were now
safe at Astoria; a trading-post which was to create a fortune for its
founder, John Jacob Astor, a shrewd merchant of New York, who was
a dealer in furs and peltries of wild animals. But there was still
travelling to be done, for Hunt determined soon after his arrival to
send a party overland, in order to notify Astor of the loss of the
detachment which had come by sea.
Strange to relate, the lion-hearted McLellan announced that he intended
to go back with this party to St. Louis. “For,” said he, “I have not
been given a sufficient share of the profits of this company. I am
entitled to more.” His friends begged him to remain and not again to
plunge into the wilderness, where were dangers just as great as those
from which he had escaped. But he was obstinate in his purpose. “To St.
Louis I shall go,” said he, “and not all the redskins on the earth will
stop me. I have been treated most unfairly.” Thus, on the twenty-second
day of March, 1812, he turned his back upon Astoria, and set out upon
the hazardous trip towards the East. The detachment was under the
command of John Reed, clerk of the Fur Company, a man of undoubted
courage and experience in frontier warfare.
There were seventeen in this particular expedition, all men of well
tried courage and resource in wilderness adventure. Ascending the
Columbia in canoes, they reached the falls and were preparing to make
the portage when a band of redskins surrounded them and began to shoot
arrows at their ranks. The trappers crouched behind the protection of
trees and boulders, and made a stand, sending many a humming bullet
into the ranks of the savages, who suddenly ceased hostilities, and,
holding up their hands in sign of peace, came towards the white men.
Mingling with the travellers, the Indians offered to carry their
luggage around the rapids.
“The redskins only want to steal all that we’ve got,” whispered
McLellan to his men. “But we can let them carry the canoes around the
falls. Then we can get the baggage over during the night, and, when
morning dawns, we’ll be off before the varmints know what we’re up to.”
The redskins seemed to be well satisfied. They carried the canoes upon
their broad shoulders, and, as night fell, retired to their village
across the river, leaving a few upon the same side as the whites.
McLellan waited until the moon rose; then waking the others, he told
them to get their baggage around the falls as soon as they could. The
trappers worked industriously, and just as day was breaking, they
deposited the last sack of provisions at the head of the rapids. This
had been done without waking the redskins, who were upon their side of
the river.
But now was an uproar, for the savages across the stream learned what
was going on, and, in a few moments, came swarming to the attack. A
hundred of them rushed upon the nervy band of trappers, crying out,
“You no go on. You stay here. You no go away.”
Brandishing aloft an immense club, a red warrior rushed upon Reed and
felled him to the ground. Another ran towards McLellan, who, with rifle
in hand, stood watching the affray. As he approached, the trapper was
ready, and, although the redskin attempted to throw a buffalo robe over
his head in order to blind his vision as he made a thrust at him with
his knife, the old scout was too wary a bird to be caught napping.
Stepping quickly aside, he shot the savage dead. As the redskin rolled
over, a noise sounded from behind, and, wheeling around, he was just in
time to hit another Indian who was about to shoot him with a rifle. The
trappers now rallied to the defense of their leader. The savage who had
attacked Reed was dispatched just as he was about to brain the trapper
with his tomahawk. The rifles of the men from Astoria spoke in unison,
and terrified by the desperate courage of the rangers, the savages
dropped back. McLellan urged his followers to the charge, and, with
a wild yell, they rushed upon the redskins, who took to their heels,
leaving many of their number prostrate upon the ground.
The unfortunate Reed had lost his dispatches to Astor, for he carried
them in a bright, new, tin box which immediately attracted the
attention of the Indians. They fancied that it must be of great value,
because of the care which the leader took of it. But this put an end
to the expedition. Reluctantly and sadly the trappers returned to the
trading-post, where the wounded recovered from their injuries received
in the little skirmish with the red men.
Hunt was greatly disappointed. “Boys!” said he, “I must absolutely get
my dispatches through to Saint Louis,—Indians or no Indians. Astor
must know of the fate of his other division. I will start a second
expedition in June and Robert Stuart will be its commander. He will
take only four good men with him.”
McLellan announced that he would be a member of the party, and Crooks
also declared that he would leave Astoria, because he had become
dissatisfied with the method in which Hunt had treated him. They soon
launched their canoes in the Columbia; began to paddle up the stream,
and, before long, reached the mouth of the Walla-Walla, where they
hid their frail craft, and started across country to the Snake River.
Horses had been purchased from the red men, and with these they made
good time, although again their food supply became exhausted so that
they were forced to scrape the fur from beaver and buffalo skins and
eat the hide in order to keep from starving. Fortunately game was now
met with and this provender saved their lives.
At the place where they had last camped on Snake River they had buried
a quantity of dried meat and other food, but when they arrived there
they discovered that the redskins had found out its whereabouts, had
dug it up, and had carried it away. It was growing cold, but they
pressed forward with renewed courage, and entered a country which was
free from game, so that again they were threatened with the dangers of
starvation. Besides this, it was the land of the Crow Indians, who were
terrific thieves and who soon discovered the presence of the little
band of trappers. The sharp eyes of McLellan—well used to watching
game—were not long in discovering the presence of the Indians.
“Look out boys,” said he. “I notice some of the red varmints hovering
near by and suspect that we will be attacked before long. Look to the
priming of your rifles and have plenty of ammunition handy. Be on your
guard!”
The trappers gave good heed to this warning and redoubled their guards
around the camp at nightfall. It was well that they did so, for, on the
very next day, a large band of red men rode up to their halting-place,
all fully armed with spears and arrows.
“Ugh! Ugh!” said the spokesman. “Where are my white brothers going?”
McLellan answered for the trappers that they were upon a peaceful
errand and would not molest the red men, if they in turn would do them
no harm. As he spoke, the redskins looked carefully at the men of the
frontier, and, seeing them well armed and ready for business, decided
not to attack. But they travelled with them for six whole days, quietly
stealing any little articles that they could find, and, on the evening
of the sixth day, ran off all the horses of the trappers in a mad
stampede. The white adventurers were in a desperate situation.
Stuart, the commander, now spoke vigorous words.
“We must cache everything which we cannot carry, and push on,” said he.
“Let winter overtake us in this God-forsaken country and all is lost.
On! On!”
As the men were busily engaged in digging a hole in which to bury the
supplies, one of the trappers interrupted them.
“Two of those thieving Crows are watching us,” said he, “and they will
dig everything up just as soon as we disappear.”
McLellan grew furious at this information.
“No thieving Crow will ever get anything of mine,” said he, “unless
they get my scalp first. I’ll burn everything which we leave behind,
and then let Mr. Redskin hustle for the white man’s food.”
“You’re right!” answered all. “Burn it we will!” Their stores were soon
piled up into a heap and were consumed by the flames.
They now headed for the Mad River, where they built rafts, and floated
them down these turbid waters, for several days. Then they again struck
off across country towards the East, crossing a wide plateau to the
base of the Rocky Mountains. They were in the land of the Blackfeet
Indians, who were as hostile towards the whites as were the Crows, and
who were as arrant thieves; but they kept on towards the high land,
hoping thus to elude the red men. As they proceeded into the mountains,
McLellan bitterly complained against their course and begged them to
remain upon the plateau. “For,” said he, “I’ve already had enough
mountain climbing to last me a lifetime, and I’d rather be comfortably
killed by the Indians than break my neck falling down a canyon. You
boys would rather climb mountains than fight the redskins.”
To these remarks Stuart and his companions paid no attention, but kept
on their way. McLellan was liked by all, and one trapper offered to
give him a load of jerked meat to carry, instead of the traps.
“A hunter should be able to kill his own meat without carrying any,”
said the old pioneer, who was now thoroughly angry. “Who wants to
carry a whole horse-load of dried beef on his back? As for me, I’ll go
no further with you. Fools! Good-by!” This burst of temper seemed to
relieve his mind, and, starting down the mountain, he set out alone
without once looking behind him. His companions kept on, and as they
reached the top of the eminence, gazed over the plain, where a dark
spot marked the form of the angered man of the frontier.
“Boys,” said Stuart. “There goes the last of the old pioneers of the
Kentucky border. You will never see him or his like again.”
As he said this, the eyes of many of his companions filled with tears.
Events were not to go smoothly with either McLellan or Stuart, for
the former lost his way; became so weak from lack of food that he was
unable to go further; and wandered aimlessly about. The latter also
suffered terribly from hunger, but kept on, hoping to meet with game at
every mile. His men were footsore and dejected, for they entered upon
a barren region where there was no game, and where even the coyotes
seemed to have disappeared. They became desperate, and determined to
throw themselves upon the mercy of the malicious Blackfeet, should they
come across them.
With this end in view, the voyageurs kept a sharp lookout for Indian
fires, hoping to gain food and assistance from the red men. Suddenly,
in the far distance, they saw the twinkle of a little light and knew
that some living being was near them. But it was late in the day. So
they dispatched one of their number to see who it was, while the rest
went into camp for the night. The messenger did not return.