In 1812 a Captain Becknell, who had been on a trading expedition to the
country of the Comanches in the summer of 1811, and had done remarkably
well, determined the next season to change his objective point to Santa
Fe, and instead of the tedious process of bartering with the Indians,
to sell out his stock to the New Mexicans. Successful in this, his first
venture, he returned to the Missouri River with a well-filled purse,
and intensely enthusiastic over the result of his excursion to the newly
found market.
Excited listeners to his tales of enormous profits were not lacking,
who, inspired by the inducement he held out to them, cheerfully invested
five thousand dollars in merchandise suited to the demands of the trade,
and were eager to attempt with him the passage of the great plains. In
this expedition there were thirty men, and the amount of money in the
undertaking was the largest that had yet been ventured. The progress of
the little caravan was without extraordinary incident, until it arrived
at "The Caches" on the Upper Arkansas. There Becknell, who was in
reality a man of the then "Frontier," bold, plucky, and endowed with
excellent sense, conceived the ridiculous idea of striking directly
across the country for Santa Fe through a region absolutely unexplored;
his excuse for this rash movement being that he desired to avoid the
rough and circuitous mountain route he had travelled on his first trip
to Taos.
His temerity in abandoning the known for the unknown was severely
punished, and his brave men suffered untold misery, barely escaping with
their lives from the terrible straits to which they were reduced. Not
having the remotest conception of the region through which their new
trail was to lead them, and naturally supposing that water would be
found in streams or springs, when they left the Arkansas they neglected
to supply themselves with more than enough of the precious fluid to last
a couple of days. At the end of that time they learned, too late, that
they were in the midst of a desert, with all the tortures of thirst
threatening them.
Without a tree or a path to guide them, they took an irregular course by
observations of the North Star, and the unreliable needle of an azimuth
pocket-compass. There was a total absence of water, and when what they
had brought with them in their canteens from the river was exhausted,
thirst began its horrible office. In a short time both men and animals
were in a mental condition bordering on distraction. To alleviate their
acute torment, the dogs of the train were killed, and their blood, hot
and sickening, eagerly swallowed; then the ears of the mules were cut
off for the same purpose, but such a substitute for water only added
to their sufferings. They would have perished had not a superannuated
buffalo bull that had just come from the Cimarron River, where he had
gone to quench his thirst, suddenly appeared, to be immediately killed
and the contents of his stomach swallowed with avidity. It is recorded
that one of those who partook of the nauseous liquid said afterward,
"nothing had ever passed his lips which gave him such exquisite delight
as his first draught of that filthy beverage."
Although they were near the Cimarron, where there was plenty of water,
which but for the affair of the buffalo they never would have suspected,
they decided to retrace their steps to the Arkansas.
Before they started on their retreat, however, some of the strongest of
the party followed the trail of the animal that had saved their lives
to the river, where, filling all the canteens with pure water, they
returned to their comrades, who were, after drinking, able to march
slowly toward the Arkansas.
Following that stream, they at last arrived at Taos, having experienced
no further trouble, but missed the trail to Santa Fe, and had their
journey greatly prolonged by the foolish endeavour of the leader to make
a short cut thither.
As early as 1815, Auguste P. Chouteau and his partner, with a large
number of trappers and hunters, went out to the valley of the Upper
Arkansas for the purpose of trading with Indians, and trapping on the
numerous streams of the contiguous region.
The island on which Chouteau established his trading-post, and which
bears his name even to this day, is in the Arkansas River on the
boundary line of the United States and Mexico. It was a beautiful spot,
with a rich carpet of grass and delightful groves, and on the American
side was a heavily timbered bottom.
While occupying the island, Chouteau and his old hunters and trappers
were attacked by about three hundred Pawnees, whom they repulsed with
the loss of thirty killed and wounded. These Indians afterward declared
that it was the most fatal affair in which they were ever engaged. It
was their first acquaintance with American guns.
The general character of the early trade with New Mexico was founded
on the system of the caravan. She depended upon the remote ports of old
Mexico, whence was transported, on the backs of the patient burro and
mule, all that was required by the primitive tastes of the primitive
people; a very tedious and slow process, as may be inferred, and the
limited traffic westwardly across the great plains was confined to this
fashion. At the date of the legitimate and substantial commerce with New
Mexico, in 1824, wheeled vehicles were introduced, and traffic assumed
an importance it could never have otherwise attained, and which now,
under the vast system of railroads, has increased to dimensions little
dreamed of by its originators nearly three-quarters of a century ago.
It was eight years after Pursley's pilgrimage before the trade with New
Mexico attracted the attention of speculators and adventurers. Messrs.
McKnight,[13] Beard, and Chambers, with about a dozen comrades, started
with a supply of goods across the unknown plains, and by good luck
arrived safely at Santa Fe. Once under the jurisdiction of the Mexicans,
however, their trouble began. All the party were arrested as spies,
their wares confiscated, and themselves incarcerated at Chihuahua, where
the majority of them were kept for almost a decade. Beard and Chambers,
having by some means escaped, returned to St. Louis in 1822, and,
notwithstanding their dreadful experience, told of the prospects of the
trade with the Mexicans in such glowing colours that they induced some
individuals of small capital to fit out another expedition, with which
they again set out for Santa Fe.
It was really too late in the season; they succeeded, however, in
reaching the crossing of the Arkansas without any difficulty, but there
a violent snowstorm overtook them and they were compelled to halt, as
it was impossible to proceed in the face of the blinding blizzard. On
an island[14] not far from where the town of Cimarron, on the Santa Fe
Railroad, is now situated, they were obliged to remain for more than
three months, during which time most of their animals died for want
of food and from the severe cold. When the weather had moderated
sufficiently to allow them to proceed on their journey, they had no
transportation for their goods and were compelled to hide them in pits
dug in the earth, after the manner of the old French voyageurs in the
early settlement of the continent. This method of secreting furs and
valuables of every character is called caching, from the French word "to
hide." Gregg thus describes it:
The cache is made by digging a hole in the ground, somewhat
in the shape of a jug, which is lined with dry sticks,
grass, or anything else that will protect its contents
from the dampness of the earth. In this place the goods
to be concealed are carefully stowed away; and the aperture
is then so effectually closed as to protect them from
the rains. In caching, a great deal of skill is often
required to leave no sign whereby the cunning savage may
discover the place of deposit. To this end, the excavated
earth is carried some distance and carefully concealed,
or thrown into a stream, if one be at hand. The place
selected for a cache is usually some rolling point,
sufficiently elevated to be secure from inundations.
If it be well set with grass, a solid piece of turf is
cut out large enough for the entrance. The turf is
afterward laid back, and, taking root, in a short time
no signs remain of its ever having been molested.
However, as every locality does not afford a turfy site,
the camp-fire is sometimes built upon the place, or the
animals are penned over it, which effectually destroys
all traces.
Father Hennepin[15] thus describes, in his quaint style, how he built a
cache on the bank of the Mississippi, in 1680:
We took up the green sodd, and laid it by, and digg'd a hole
in the Earth where we put our Goods, and cover'd them with
pieces of Timber and Earth, and then put in again the green
Turf; so that 'twas impossible to suspect that any Hole had
been digg'd under it, for we flung the Earth into the River.
After caching their goods, Beard and the party went on to Taos, where
they bought mules, and returning to their caches transported their
contents to their market.
The word "cache" still lingers among the "old-timers" of the mountains
and plains, and has become a provincialism with their descendants; one
of these will tell you that he cached his vegetables in the side of
the hill; or if he is out hunting and desires to secrete himself from
approaching game, he will say, "I am going to cache behind that rock,"
etc.
The place where Beard's little expedition wintered was called "The
Caches" for years, and the name has only fallen into disuse within the
last two decades. I remember the great holes in the ground when I first
crossed the plains, a third of a century ago.
The immense profit upon merchandise transported across the dangerous
Trail of the mid-continent to the capital of New Mexico soon excited
the cupidity of other merchants east of the Missouri. When the commonest
domestic cloth, manufactured wholly from cotton, brought from two to
three dollars a yard at Santa Fe, and other articles at the same ratio
to cost, no wonder the commerce with the far-off market appeared to
those who desired to send goods there a veritable Golconda.
The importance of internal trade with New Mexico, and the possibilities
of its growth, were first recognized by the United States in 1824, the
originator of the movement being Mr. Thomas Hart Benton of Missouri,
who frequently, from his place in the Senate, prophesied the coming
greatness of the West. He introduced a bill which authorized the
President to appoint a commission to survey a road from the Missouri
River to the boundary line of New Mexico, and from thence on Mexican
territory with the consent of the Mexican government. The signing of
this bill was one of the last acts of Mr. Monroe's official life, and
it was carried into effect by his successor, Mr. John Quincy Adams, but
unfortunately a mistake was made in supposing that the Osage Indians
alone controlled the course of the proposed route. It was partially
marked out as far as the Arkansas, by raised mounds; but travellers
continued to use the old wagon trail, and as no negotiations had been
entered into with the Comanches, Cheyennes, Pawnees, or Kiowas, these
warlike tribes continued to harass the caravans when these arrived in
the broad valley of the Arkansas.
The American fur trade was at its height at the time when the Santa Fe
trade was just beginning to assume proportions worthy of notice; the
difference between the two enterprises being very marked. The fur trade
was in the hands of immensely wealthy companies, while that to Santa
Fe was carried on by individuals with limited capital, who, purchasing
goods in the Eastern markets, had them transported to the Missouri
River, where, until the trade to New Mexico became a fixed business,
everything was packed on mules. As soon, however, as leading
merchants invested their capital, about 1824, the trade grew into vast
proportions, and wagons took the place of the patient mule. Later,
oxen were substituted for mules, it having been discovered that they
possessed many advantages over the former, particularly in being able
to draw heavier loads than an equal number of mules, especially through
sandy or muddy places.
For a long time, the traders were in the habit of purchasing their mules
in Santa Fe and driving them to the Missouri; but as soon as that useful
animal was raised in sufficient numbers in the Southern States to supply
the demand, the importation from New Mexico ceased, for the reason that
the American mule was in all respects an immensely superior animal.
Once mules were an important object of the trade, and those who dealt
in them and drove them across to the river on the Trail met with many
mishaps; frequently whole droves, containing from three to five hundred,
were stolen by the savages en route. The latter soon learned that it
was a very easy thing to stampede a caravan of mules, for, once
panic-stricken, it is impossible to restrain them, and the Indians
having started them kept them in a state of rampant excitement by their
blood-curdling yells, until they had driven them miles beyond the Trail.
A story is told of a small band of twelve men, who, while encamped on
the Cimarron River, in 1826, with but four serviceable guns among them,
were visited by a party of Indians, believed to be Arapahoes, who made
at first strong demonstrations of friendship and good-will. Observing
the defenceless condition of the traders, they went away, but soon
returned about thirty strong, each provided with a lasso, and all on
foot. The chief then began by informing the Americans that his men were
tired of walking, and must have horses. Thinking it folly to offer any
resistance, the terrified traders told them if one animal apiece would
satisfy them, to go and catch them. This they soon did; but finding
their request so easily complied with, the Indians held a little parley
together, which resulted in a new demand for more--they must have two
apiece! "Well, catch them!" was the acquiescent reply of the unfortunate
band; upon which the savages mounted those they had already secured,
and, swinging their lassos over their heads, plunged among the stock
with a furious yell, and drove off the entire caballada of nearly five
hundred head of horses, mules, and asses.
In 1829 the Indians of the plains became such a terror to the caravans
crossing to Santa Fe, that the United States government, upon petition
of the traders, ordered three companies of infantry and one of riflemen,
under command of Major Bennet Riley, to escort the annual caravan, which
that year started from the town of Franklin, Missouri, then the eastern
terminus of the Santa Fe trade, as far as Chouteau's Island, on the
Arkansas, which marked the boundary between the United States and
Mexico.[16] The caravan started from the island across the dreary route
unaccompanied by any troops, but had progressed only a few miles when
it was attacked by a band of Kiowas, then one of the most cruel and
bloodthirsty tribes on the plains.[17]
This escort, commanded by Major Riley, and another under Captain
Wharton, composed of only sixty dragoons, five years later, were the
sole protection ever given by the government until 1843, when Captain
Philip St. George Cooke again accompanied two large caravans to the same
point on the Arkansas as did Major Riley fourteen years before.
As the trade increased, the Comanches, Pawnees, and Arapahoes continued
to commit their depredations, and it was firmly believed by many of the
freighters that these Indians were incited to their devilish acts by the
Mexicans, who were always jealous of "Los Americanos."
It was very rarely that a caravan, great or small, or even a detachment
of troops, no matter how large, escaped the raids of these bandits of
the Trail. If the list of those who were killed outright and scalped,
and those more unfortunate who were taken captive only to be tortured
and their bodies horribly mutilated, could be collected from the opening
of the traffic with New Mexico until the years 1868-69, when General
Sheridan inaugurated his memorable "winter campaign" against the allied
plains tribes, and completely demoralized, cowed, and forced them on
their reservations, about the time of the advent of the railroad, it
would present an appalling picture; and the number of horses, mules,
and oxen stampeded and stolen during the same period would amount to
thousands.
As the excellent narrative of Captain Pike is not read as it should be
by the average American, a brief reference to it may not be considered
supererogatory. The celebrated officer, who was afterward promoted to
the rank of major-general, and died in the achievement of the victory of
York, Upper Canada, in 1813, was sent in 1806 on an exploring expedition
up the Arkansas River, with instructions to pass the sources of Red
River, for which those of the Canadian were then mistaken; he, however,
even went around the head of the latter, and crossing the mountains with
an almost incredible degree of peril and suffering, descended upon the
Rio del Norte with his little party, then but fifteen in number.
Believing himself now on Red River, within the then assumed limits of
the United States, he built a small fortification for his company, until
the opening of the spring of 1807 should enable him to continue his
descent to Natchitoches. As he was really within Mexican territory, and
only about eighty miles from the northern settlements, his position
was soon discovered, and a force sent to take him to Santa Fe, which by
treachery was effected without opposition. The Spanish officer assured
him that the governor, learning that he had mistaken his way, had sent
animals and an escort to convey his men and baggage to a navigable point
on Red River (Rio Colorado), and that His Excellency desired very much
to see him at Santa Fe, which might be taken on their way.
As soon, however, as the governor had the too confiding captain in his
power, he sent him with his men to the commandant general at Chihuahua,
where most of his papers were seized, and he and his party were sent
under an escort, via San Antonio de Bexar, to the United States.
Many citizens of the remote Eastern States, who were contemporary with
Pike, declared that his expedition was in some way connected with the
treasonable attempt of Aaron Burr. The idea is simply preposterous;
Pike's whole line of conduct shows him to have been of the most
patriotic character; never would he for a moment have countenanced a
proposition from Aaron Burr!
After Captain Pike's report had been published to the world, the
adventurers who were inspired by its glowing description of the country
he had been so far to explore were destined to experience trials and
disappointments of which they had formed no conception.
Among them was a certain Captain Sublette, a famous old trapper in
the era of the great fur companies, and with him a Captain Smith, who,
although veteran pioneers of the Rocky Mountains, were mere novices in
the many complications of the Trail; but having been in the fastnesses
of the great divide of the continent, they thought that when they got
down on the plains they could go anywhere. They started with twenty
wagons, and left the Missouri without a single one of the party being
competent to guide the little caravan on the dangerous route.
From the Missouri the Trail was broad and plain enough for a child to
follow, but when they arrived at the Cimarron crossing of the Arkansas,
not a trace of former caravans was visible; nothing but the innumerable
buffalo-trails leading from everywhere to the river.
When the party entered the desert, or Dry Route, as it was years
afterward always, and very properly, called in certain seasons of
drought, the brave but too confident men discovered that the whole
region was burnt up. They wandered on for several days, the horrors of
death by thirst constantly confronting them. Water must be had or they
would all perish! At last Smith, in his desperation, determined to
follow one of the numerous buffalo-trails, believing that it would
conduct him to water of some character--a lake or pool or even wallow.
He left the train alone; asked for no one to accompany him; for he was
the very impersonation of courage, one of the most fearless men that
ever trapped in the mountains.
He walked on and on for miles, when, on ascending a little divide, he
saw a stream in the valley beneath him. It was the Cimarron, and he
hurried toward it to quench his intolerable thirst. When he arrived at
its bank, to his disappointment it was nothing but a bed of sand; the
sometime clear running river was perfectly dry.
Only for a moment was he staggered; he knew the character of many
streams in the West; that often their waters run under the ground at
a short distance from the surface, and in a moment he was on his knees
digging vigorously in the soft sand. Soon the coveted fluid began to
filter upwards into the little excavation he had made. He stooped to
drink, and in the next second a dozen arrows from an ambushed band
of Comanches entered his body. He did not die at once, however; it is
related by the Indians themselves that he killed two of their number
before death laid him low.
Captain Sublette and Smith's other comrades did not know what had become
of him until some Mexican traders told them, having got the report from
the very savages who committed the cold-blooded murder.
Gregg, in his report of this little expedition, says:
Every kind of fatality seems to have attended this small
caravan. Among other casualties, a clerk in their company,
named Minter, was killed by a band of Pawnees, before they
crossed the Arkansas. This, I believe, is the only instance
of loss of life among the traders while engaged in hunting,
although the scarcity of accidents can hardly be said to be
the result of prudence. There is not a day that hunters
do not commit some indescretion; such as straying at
a distance of five and even ten miles from the caravan,
frequently alone, and seldom in bands of more than two or
three together. In this state, they must frequently be
spied by prowling savages; so that frequency of escape,
under such circumstances, must be partly attributed to
the cowardice of the Indians; indeed, generally speaking,
the latter are very loth to charge upon even a single
armed man, unless they can take him at a decided advantage.
Not long after, this band of Captain Sublette's very
narrowly escaped total destruction. They had fallen in
with an immense horde of Blackfeet and Gros Ventres, and,
as the traders were literally but a handful among thousands
of savages, they fancied themselves for a while in imminent
peril of being virtually "eated up." But as Captain
Sublette possessed considerable experience, he was at
no loss how to deal with these treacherous savages; so that
although the latter assumed a threatening attitude,
he passed them without any serious molestation, and finally
arrived at Santa Fe in safety.
The virtual commencement of the Santa Fe trade dates from 1822, and one
of the most remarkable events in its history was the first attempt to
introduce wagons in the expeditions. This was made in 1824 by a company
of traders, about eighty in number, among whom were several gentlemen of
intelligence from Missouri, who contributed by their superior skill
and undaunted energy to render the enterprise completely successful. A
portion of this company employed pack-mules; among the rest were
owned twenty-five wheeled vehicles, of which one or two were stout
road-wagons, two were carts, and the rest Dearborn carriages, the
whole conveying some twenty-five or thirty thousand dollars' worth of
merchandise. Colonel Marmaduke, of Missouri, was one of the party. This
caravan arrived at Santa Fe safely, experiencing much less difficulty
than they anticipated from a first attempt with wheeled vehicles.
Gregg continues:
The early voyageurs, having but seldom experienced any
molestation from the Indians, generally crossed the plains
in detached bands, each individual rarely carrying more than
two or three hundred dollars' worth of stock. This peaceful
season, however, did not last very long; and it is greatly
to be feared that the traders were not always innocent of
having instigated the savage hostilities that ensued in
after years. Many seemed to forget the wholesome precept,
that they should not be savages themselves because they
dealt with savages. Instead of cultivating friendly
feelings with those few who remained peaceful and honest,
there was an occasional one always disposed to kill,
even in cold blood, every Indian that fell into their power,
merely because some of the tribe had committed an outrage
either against themselves or friends.
As an instance of this, he relates the following:
In 1826 two young men named McNess and Monroe, having
carelessly lain down to sleep on the bank of a certain
stream, since known as McNess Creek,[18] were barbarously
shot, with their own guns, as it was supposed, in the very
sight of the caravan. When their comrades came up,
they found McNess lifeless, and the other almost expiring.
In this state the latter was carried nearly forty miles to
the Cimarron River, where he died, and was buried according
to the custom of the prairies, a very summary proceeding,
necessarily. The corpse, wrapped in a blanket, its shroud
the clothes it wore, is interred in a hole varying in depth
according to the nature of the soil, and upon the grave is
piled stones, if any are convenient, to prevent the wolves
from digging it up. Just as McNess's funeral ceremonies
were about to be concluded, six or seven Indians appeared
on the opposite side of the Cimarron. Some of the party
proposed inviting them to a parley, while the rest, burning
for revenge, evinced a desire to fire upon them at once.
It is more than probable, however, that the Indians were not
only innocent but ignorant of the outrage that had been
committed, or they would hardly have ventured to approach
the caravan. Being quick of perception, they very soon saw
the belligerent attitude assumed by the company, and
therefore wheeled round and attempted to escape. One shot
was fired, which brought an Indian to the ground, when he
was instantly riddled with balls. Almost simultaneously
another discharge of several guns followed, by which all
the rest were either killed or mortally wounded, except one,
who escaped to bear the news to his tribe.
These wanton cruelties had a most disastrous effect upon the
prospects of the trade; for the exasperated children of
the desert became more and more hostile to the "pale-faces,"
against whom they continued to wage a cruel war for many
successive years. In fact this party suffered very severely
a few days afterward. They were pursued by the enraged
comrades of the slain savages to the Arkansas River, where
they were robbed of nearly a thousand horses and mules.
The author of this book, although having but little compassion for the
Indians, must admit that, during more than a third of a century passed
on the plains and in the mountains, he has never known of a war with the
hostile tribes that was not caused by broken faith on the part of the
United States or its agents. I will refer to two prominent instances:
that of the outbreak of the Nez Perces, and that of the allied plains
tribes. With the former a solemn treaty was made in 1856, guaranteeing
to them occupancy of the Wallola valley forever. I. I. Stevens, who
was governor of Washington Territory at the time, and ex-officio
superintendent of Indian affairs in the region, met the Nez Perces,
whose chief, "Wish-la-no-she," an octogenarian, when grasping the hand
of the governor at the council said: "I put out my hand to the white
man when Lewis and Clark crossed the continent, in 1805, and have never
taken it back since." The tribe kept its word until the white men took
forcible possession of the valley promised to the Indians, when the
latter broke out, and a prolonged war was the consequence. In 1867
Congress appointed a commission to treat with the Cheyennes, Kiowas, and
Arapahoes, appropriating four hundred thousand dollars for the expenses
of the commission. It met at Medicine Lodge in August of the year
mentioned, and made a solemn treaty, which the members of the
commission, on the part of the United States, and the principal chiefs
of the three tribes signed. Congress failed to make any appropriation to
carry out the provisions of the treaty, and the Indians, after waiting
a reasonable time, broke out, devastated the settlements from the Platte
to the Rio Grande, destroying millions of dollars' worth of property,
and sacrificing hundreds of men, women, and children. Another war was
the result, which cost more millions, and under General Sheridan
the hostile savages were whipped into a peace, which they have been
compelled to keep.