The famous Bent brothers, William, George, Robert, and Charles, were
French-Canadian hunters and trappers, and had been employed almost from
boyhood, in the early days of the border, by the American Fur Company in
the mountains of the Northwest.
In 1826, almost immediately after the transference of the fur trade to
the valley of the Arkansas, when the commerce of the prairies was fairly
initiated, the three Bents and Ceran St. Vrain, also a French-Canadian
and trapper, settled on the Upper Arkansas, where they erected a
stockade. It was, of course, a rude affair, formed of long stakes or
pickets driven into the ground, after the Mexican style known as jacal.
The sides were then ceiled and roofed, and it served its purpose of a
trading-post. This primitive fort was situated on the left or north
bank of the river, about halfway between Pueblo and Canyon City, those
beautiful mountain towns of to-day.
Two years afterward, in 1828, the proprietors of the primitive stockade
in the remote wilderness found it necessary to move closer to the
great hunting-grounds lower down the valley. There, about twelve miles
northeast of the now thriving town of Las Animas, the Bents commenced
the construction of a relatively large and more imposing-looking
structure than the first. The principal material used in the new
building, or rather in its walls, was adobe, or sun-dried brick, so
common even to-day in New Mexican architecture. Four years elapsed
before the new fort was completed, during which period its owners, like
other trappers, lived in tents or teepees fashioned of buffalo-skins,
after the manner of the Indians.
When at last the new station was completed, it was named Fort William,
in honour of Colonel William Bent, who was the leader of the family
and the most active trader among the four partners in the concern.
The colonel frequently made long trips to the remote villages of the
Arapahoes, Cheyennes, Kiowas, and Comanches, which were situated far to
the south and east, on the Canadian River and its large tributaries. His
miscellaneous assortment of merchandise he transported upon pack-mules
to the Indian rendezvous, bringing back to the fort the valuable furs
he had exchanged for the goods so eagerly coveted by the savages. It was
while on one of his trading expeditions to the Cheyenne nation that
the colonel married a young squaw of that tribe, the daughter of the
principal chief.
William Bent for his day and time was an exceptionally good man. His
integrity, his truthfulness on all occasions, and his remarkable courage
endeared him to the red and white man alike, and Fort William prospered
wonderfully under his careful and just management. Both his brothers
and St. Vrain had taken up their residence in Taos, and upon the colonel
devolved the entire charge of the busy establishment. It soon became
the most popular rendezvous of the mountaineers and trappers, and in
its immediate vicinity several tribes of Indians took up their temporary
encampment.
In 1852 Fort William was destroyed under the following strange
circumstances: It appears that the United States desired to purchase it.
Colonel Bent had decided upon a price--sixteen thousand dollars--but
the representatives of the War Department offered only twelve thousand,
which, of course, Bent refused. Negotiations were still pending, when
the colonel, growing tired of the red-tape and circumlocution of the
authorities, and while in a mad mood, removed all his valuables from the
structure, excepting some barrels of gunpowder, and then deliberately
set fire to the old landmark. When the flames reached the powder, there
was an explosion which threw down portions of the walls, but did not
wholly destroy them. The remains of the once noted buildings stand
to-day, melancholy relics of a past epoch.
In the same year the indefatigable and indomitable colonel determined
upon erecting a much more important structure. He selected a site on
the same side of the Arkansas, in the locality known as Big Timbers.
Regarding this new venture, Colonel or Judge Moore of Las Animas, a
son-in-law of William Bent, tells in a letter to the author of the
history of Colorado the following facts:--
Leaving ten men in camp to get out stone for the new post,
Colonel Bent took a part of his outfit and went to a Kiowa
village, about two hundred miles southwest, and remained
there all winter, trading with the Kiowas and Comanches.
In the spring of 1853 he returned to Big Timbers, when
the construction of the new post was begun, and the work
continued until completed in the summer of 1854; and it
was used as a trading-post until the owner leased it to
the government in the autumn of 1859. Colonel Sedgwick had
been sent out to fight the Kiowas that year, and in the fall
a large quantity of commissary stores had been sent him.
Colonel Bent then moved up the river to a point just above
the mouth of the Purgatoire, and built several rooms of
cottonwood pickets, and there spent the winter. In the
spring of 1860, Colonel Sedgwick began the construction of
officers' buildings, company quarters, corrals, and stables,
all of stone, and named the place Fort Wise, in honour of
Governor Wise of Virginia. In 1861 the name was changed to
Fort Lyon, in honour of General Lyon, who was killed at the
battle of Wilson Creek, Missouri. In the spring of 1866,
the Arkansas River overflowed its banks, swept up into the
fort, and, undermining the walls, rendered it untenable for
military purposes. The camp was moved to a point twenty
miles below, and the new Fort Lyon established. The old
post was repaired, and used as a stage station by Barlow,
Sanderson, and Company, who ran a mail, express, and
passenger line between Kansas City and Santa Fe.
The contiguous region to Fort William was in the early days a famous
hunting-ground. It abounded in nearly every variety of animal indigenous
to the mountains and plains, among which were the panther--the so-called
California lion of to-day--the lynx, erroneously termed wild cat, white
wolf, prairie wolf, silver-gray fox, prairie fox, antelope, buffalo,
gray, grizzly and cinnamon bears, together with the common brown and
black species, the red deer and the black-tail, the latter the finest
venison in the world. Of birds there were wild turkeys, quail, and
grouse, besides an endless variety of the smaller-sized families, not
regarded as belonging to the domain of game in a hunter's sense. It was
a veritable paradise, too, for the trappers. Its numerous streams and
creeks were famous for beaver, otter, and mink.
Scarcely an acre of the surrounding area within the radius of hundreds
of miles but has been the scene of many deadly encounters with the
wily red man, stories of which are still current among the few old
mountaineers yet living.
The fort was six hundred and fifty miles west of Fort Leavenworth, in
latitude thirty-eight degrees and two minutes north, and longitude one
hundred and three degrees and three minutes west, from Greenwich. The
exterior walls of the fort, whose figure was that of a parallelogram,
were fifteen feet high and four feet thick. It was a hundred and
thirty-five feet wide and divided into various compartments. On the
northwest and southeast corners were hexagonal bastions, in which were
mounted a number of cannon. The walls of the building served as the
walls of the rooms, all of which faced inwards on a plaza, after the
general style of Mexican architecture. The roofs of the rooms were made
of poles, on which was a heavy layer of dirt, as in the houses of native
Mexicans to-day. The fort possessed a billiard table, that visitors
might amuse themselves, and in the office was a small telescope with a
fair range of seven miles.
The occupants of the far-away establishment, in its palmy days (for
years it was the only building between Council Grove and the mountains),
were traders, Indians, hunters, and French trappers, who were the
employees of the great fur companies. Many of the latter had Indian
wives. Later, after a stage line had been put in operation across the
plains to Santa Fe, the fort was relegated to a mere station for
the overland route, and with the march of civilization in its course
westward, the trappers, hunters, and traders vanished from the once
famous rendezvous.
The walls were loopholed for musketry, and the entrance to the plaza, or
corral, was guarded by large wooden gates. During the war with Mexico,
the fort was headquarters for the commissary department, and many
supplies were stored there, though the troops camped below on the
beautiful river-bottom. In the centre of the corral, in the early days
when the place was a rendezvous of the trappers, a large buffalo-robe
press was erected. When the writer first saw the famous fort, now over a
third of a century ago, one of the cannon, that burst in firing a salute
to General Kearney, could be seen half buried in the dirt of the plaza.
By barometrical measurements taken by the engineer officers of the army
at different times, the height of Bent's Fort above the ocean level is
approximately eight thousand nine hundred and fifty-eight feet, and
the fall of the Arkansas River from the fort to the great bend of that
stream, about three hundred and eleven miles east, is seven feet and
four-tenths per mile.
It was in a relatively fair state of preservation thirty-three years
ago, but now not a vestige of it remains, excepting perhaps a mound
of dirt, the disintegration of the mud bricks of which the historical
structure was built.
The Indians whose villages were located a few miles below the fort, or
at least the chief men of the various tribes, passed much of their time
within the shelter of the famous structure. They were bountifully fed,
and everything they needed furnished them. This was purely from policy,
however; for if their wishes were not gratified, their hunters would not
bring in their furs to trade. The principal chiefs never failed to
be present when a meal was announced as ready, and however scarce
provisions might be, the Indians must be fed.
The first farm in the fertile and now valuable lands of the valley of
the Rio de las Animas[60] was opened by the Bents. The area selected for
cultivation was in the beautiful bottom between the fort and the ford,
a strip about a mile in length, and from one hundred and fifty to six
hundred feet in width. Nothing could be grown without irrigation, and
to that end an acequia, as the Mexicans call the ditch through which the
water flows, was constructed, and a crop put in. Before the enterprising
projectors of the scheme could reap a harvest, the hostile savages
dashed in and destroyed everything.
Uncle John Smith was one of the principal traders back in the '30's,
and he was very successful, perhaps because he was undoubtedly the
most perfect master of the Cheyenne language at that time in the whole
mountain region.
Among those who frequently came to the fort were Kit Carson, L. B.
Maxwell, Uncle Dick Wooton, Baptiste Brown, Jim Bridger, Old Bill
Williams, James Beckwourth, Shawnee Spiebuck, Shawnee Jake--the latter
two, noted Indian trappers--besides a host of others.
The majority of the old trappers, to a stranger, until he knew their
peculiar characteristics, were seemingly of an unsociable disposition.
It was an erroneous idea, however; for they were the most genial
companions imaginable, generous to a fault, and to fall into one of
their camps was indeed a lucky thing for the lost traveller. Everything
the host had was at his guest's disposal, and though coffee and sugar
were the dearest of his luxuries, often purchased with a whole season's
trapping, the black fluid was offered with genuine free-heartedness,
and the last plug of tobacco placed at the disposition of his chance
visitor, as though it could be picked up on the ground anywhere.
Goods brought by the traders to the rendezvous for sale to the trappers
and hunters, although of the most inferior quality, were sold at
enormously high prices.
Coffee, by the pint-cup, which was the usual measure for everything,
cost from a dollar and twenty cents to three dollars; tobacco a dollar
and a half a plug; alcohol from two dollars to five dollars a pint;
gunpowder one dollar and sixty cents a pint-cup, and all other articles
at proportionably exorbitant rates.
The annual gatherings of the trappers at the rendezvous were often the
scene of bloody duels; for over their cups and cards no men were more
quarrelsome than the old-time mountaineers. Rifles at twenty paces
settled all difficulties, and, as may be imagined, the fall of one or
the other of the combatants was certain, or, as sometimes happened, both
fell at the word "Fire!"
The trapper's visits to the Mexican settlements, or to the lodges of
a tribe of Indians, for the purpose of trading, often resulted in his
returning to his quiet camp with a woman to grace his solitary home,
the loving and lonely couple as devoted to each other in the midst of
blood-thirsty enemies, howling wolves, and panthers, as if they were in
some quiet country village.
The easy manners of the harum-scarum, reckless trappers at the
rendezvous, and the simple, unsuspecting hearts of those nymphs of the
mountains, the squaws, caused their husbands to be very jealous of the
attentions bestowed upon them by strangers. Often serious difficulties
arose, in the course of which the poor wife received a severe whipping
with the knot of a lariat, or no very light lodge-poling at the hands of
her imperious sovereign. Sometimes the affair ended in a more tragical
way than a mere beating, not infrequently the gallant paying the penalty
of his interference with his life.
Garrard, a traveller on the great plains and in the Rocky Mountains
half a century ago, from whose excellent diary I have frequently quoted,
passed many days and nights at Bent's Fort fifty years ago, and his
quaint description of life there in that remote period of the extreme
frontier is very amusing. Its truth has often been confirmed by Uncle
John Smith, who was my guide and interpreter in the Indian expedition of
1868-69, only two decades after Garrard's experience.
Rosalie, a half-breed French and Indian squaw, wife of the carpenter,
and Charlotte, the culinary divinity, were, as a Missouri teamster
remarked, "the only female women here." They were nightly led to the
floor to trip the light fantastic toe, and swung rudely or gently in the
mazes of the contra-dance, but such a medley of steps is seldom seen
out of the mountains--the halting, irregular march of the war-dance,
the slipping gallopade, the boisterous pitching of the Missouri
backwoodsman, and the more nice gyrations of the Frenchman; for
all, irrespective of rank, age, or colour, went pell-mell into
the excitement, in a manner that would have rendered a leveller of
aristocracies and select companies frantic with delight. And the airs
assumed by the fair ones, more particularly Charlotte, who took pattern
from life in the States, were amusing. She acted her part to perfection;
she was the centre of attraction, the belle of the evening. She treated
the suitors for the pleasure of the next set with becoming ease and
suavity of manner; she knew her worth, and managed accordingly. When the
favoured gallant stood by her side waiting for the rudely scraped tune
from a screeching fiddle, satisfaction, joy, and triumph over his rivals
were pictured on his radiant face.
James Hobbs, of whom I have already spoken, once gave me a graphic
description of the annual feast of the Comanches, Cheyennes, and
Arapahoes, which always took place at Big Timbers, near Fort William.
Hobbs was married to the daughter of Old Wolf, the chief of the
Comanches, a really beautiful Indian girl, with whom he lived faithfully
many years. In the early summer of 1835, he went with his father-in-law
and the rest of the tribe to the great feast of that season. He stated
that on that occasion there were forty thousand Indians assembled, and
consequently large hunting parties were sent out daily to procure food
for such a vast host. The entertainment was kept up for fifteen days,
enlivened by horse races, foot races, and playing ball. In these races
the tribes would bet their horses on the result, the Comanches generally
winning, for they are the best riders in the world. By the time the
feast was ended, the Arapahoes and Cheyennes usually found themselves
afoot, but Old Wolf, who was a generous fellow, always gave them back
enough animals to get home with.
The game of ball was played with crooked sticks, and is very much like
the American boys' "shinny." The participants are dressed in a simple
breech-cloth and moccasins. It is played with great enthusiasm and
affords much amusement.
At these annual feasts a council of the great chiefs of the three tribes
is always held, and at the one during the season referred to, Hobbs said
the Cheyenne chiefs wanted Old Wolf to visit Bent's Fort, where he had
never been. Upon the arrival of the delegation there, it was heartily
welcomed by all the famous men who happened to be at the place, among
whom were Kit Carson, Old John Smith, and several noted trappers.
Whiskey occupied a prominent place in the rejoicing, and "I found it
hard work," said Hobbs, "to stand the many toasts drank to my good
health." The whole party, including Old Wolf and his companion the
Cheyenne chief, got very much elated, and every person in the fort smelt
whiskey, if they did not get their feet tangled with it.
About midnight a messenger came inside, reporting that a thousand
Comanche warriors were gathering around the fort. They demanded their
leaders, fearing treachery, and desired to know why their chief had
not returned. Hobbs went out and explained that he was safe; but
they insisted on seeing him, so he and Hobbs showed themselves to the
assembled Indians, and Old Wolf made a speech, telling them that he and
the Cheyenne chief were among good friends to the Indians, and presents
would be given to them the next morning. The warriors were pacified with
these assurances, though they did not leave the vicinity of the fort.
It was at this time that Hobbs was ransomed by Colonel Bent, who gave
Old Wolf, for him, six yards of red flannel, a pound of tobacco, and an
ounce of beads.
The chief was taken in charge by a lieutenant, who showed him all over
the fort, letting him see the rifle port-holes, and explaining how the
place could stand a siege against a thousand Indians. Finally, he was
taken out on the parapet, where there was a six-pounder at each angle.
The old savage inquired how they could shoot such a thing, and at Hobbs'
request, a blank cartridge was put in the piece and fired. Old Wolf
sprang back in amazement, and the Indians on the outside, under the
walls, knowing nothing of what was going on, ran away as fast as their
legs could carry them, convinced that their chief must be dead now and
their own safety dependent upon flight. Old Wolf and Hobbs sprang upon
the wall and signalled and shouted to them, and they returned, asking in
great astonishment what kind of a monstrous gun it was.
About noon trading commenced. The Indians wished to come into the fort,
but Bent would not let any enter but the chiefs. At the back door the
colonel displayed his goods, and the Indians brought forward their
ponies, buffalo-robes, deer and other skins, which they traded for
tobacco, beads, calico, flannel, knives, spoons, whistles, jews'-harps,
etc.
Whiskey was sold to them the first day, but as it caused several fights
among them before night, Bent stopped its sale, at Hobbs' suggestion and
with Old Wolf's consent. Indians, when they get drunk, do not waste time
by fighting with fists, like white men, but use knives and tomahawks;
so that a general scrimmage is a serious affair. Two or three deaths
resulted the first day, and there would have been many more if the sale
of whiskey had not been stopped.
The trading continued for eight days, and Colonel Bent reaped a rich
harvest of what he could turn into gold at St. Louis. Old Wolf slept
in the fort each night except one during that time, and every time his
warriors aroused him about twelve o'clock and compelled him to show
himself on the walls to satisfy them of his safety.
About a hundred trappers were in the employ of Bent and his partners.
Sometimes one-half of the company were off on a hunt, leaving but a
small force at the fort for its protection, but with the small battery
there its defence was considered sufficient.
One day a trapping party, consisting of Kit Carson, "Peg-leg" Smith, and
James Hobbs, together with some Shawnee Indians, all under the lead of
Carson, started out from Bent's Fort for the Picketwire to trap beaver.
Grizzlies were very abundant in that region then, and one of the party,
named McIntire, having killed an elk the evening before, said to Hobbs
that they might stand a good chance to find a grizzly by the elk he had
shot but had not brought in. Hobbs said that he was willing to go with
him, but as McIntire was a very green man in the mountains, Hobbs had
some doubts of depending on him in case of an attack by a grizzly bear.
The two men left for the ravine in which McIntire had killed the elk
very early in the morning, taking with them tomahawks, hunting-knives,
rifles, and a good dog. On arriving at the ravine, Hobbs told McIntire
to cross over to the other side and climb the hill, but on no account
to go down into the ravine, as a grizzly is more dangerous when he has
a man on the downhill side. Hobbs then went to where he thought the elk
might be if he had died by the bank of the stream; but as soon as he
came near the water, he saw that a large grizzly had got there before
him, having scented the animal, and was already making his breakfast.
The bear was in thick, scrubby oak brush, and Hobbs, making his dog lie
down, crawled behind a rock to get a favourable shot at the beast. He
drew a bead on him and fired, but the bear only snarled at the wound
made by the ball and started tearing through the brush, biting furiously
at it as he went. Hobbs reloaded his rifle carefully, and as quickly as
he could, in order to get a second shot; but, to his amazement, he saw
the bear rushing down the ravine chasing McIntire, who was only about
ten feet in advance of the enraged beast, running for his life, and
making as much noise as a mad bull. He was terribly scared, and Hobbs
hastened to his rescue, first sending his dog ahead.
Just as the dog reached the bear, McIntire darted behind a tree and
flung his hat in the bear's face, at the same time sticking his rifle
toward him. The old grizzly seized the muzzle of the gun in his teeth,
and, as it was loaded and cocked, it either went off accidentally or
otherwise and blew the bear's head open, just as the dog had fastened
on his hindquarters. Hobbs ran to the assistance of his comrade with all
haste, but he was out of danger and had sat down a few rods away, with
his face as white as a sheet, a badly frightened man.
After that fearful scare, McIntire would cook or do anything, but said
he never intended to make a business of bear-hunting; he had only wished
for one adventure, and this one had satisfied him.