One or two were pale at first, but have become rosy and strong, although
there is much that must be very trying to them and the mothers also. The
tents are "struck" at six sharp in the morning, and that means that we
have to be up at four and breakfast at five. That the bedding must be
rolled, every little thing tucked away in trunks or bags, the mess chest
packed, and the cooking stove and cooking utensils not only made ready
to go safely in the wagon, but they must be carried out of the tents
before six o'clock. At that time the soldiers come, and, when the bugle
sounds, down go the tents, and if anything happens to be left inside, it
has to be fished out from underneath the canvas or left there until the
tent is folded. The days are so short now that all this has to be done
in the darkness, by candle or lantern light, and how mothers can get
their small people up and ready for the day by six o'clock, I cannot
understand, for it is just all I can manage to get myself and the tent
ready by that time.
We are on the banks of a small stream, and the tents are evidently
pitched directly upon the roosting ground of wild geese, for during the
snowstorm thousands of them came here long after dark, making the most
dreadful uproar one ever heard, with the whirring of their big wings and
constant "honk! honk!" of hundreds of voices. They circled around so
low and the calls were so loud that it seemed sometimes as if they
were inside the tents. They must have come home for shelter and become
confused and blinded by the lights in the tents, and the loss of their
ground. We must be going through a splendid country for game.
I was very ill for several days on the way up, the result of
malaria--perhaps too many scuppernong grapes at Pass Christian, and
jolting of the heavy army wagon that makes a small stone seem the size
of a boulder. One morning I was unable to walk or even stand up, and
Faye and Major Bryant carried me to the wagon on a buffalo robe. All of
that day's march Faye walked by the side of my wagon, and that allowed
him no rest whatever, for in order to make it as easy for me as
possible, my wagon had been placed at the extreme end of the long line.
The troops march fifty minutes and halt ten, and as we went much slower
than the men marched, we would about catch up with the column at each
rest, just when the bugle would be blown to fall in line again, and then
on the troops and wagons would go, Faye was kept on a continuous tramp.
I still think that he should have asked permission to ride on the wagon,
part of the day at least, but he would not do so.
One evening when the camp was near a ranch, I heard Doctor Gordon tell
Faye outside the tent that I must be left at the place in the morning,
that I was too ill to go farther! I said not a word about having heard
this, but I promised myself that I would go on. The dread of being left
with perfect strangers, of whom I knew nothing, and where I could not
possibly have medical attendance, did not improve my condition, but fear
gave me strength, and in the morning when camp broke I assured Doctor
Gordon that I was better, very much better, and stuck to it with so much
persistence that at last he consented to my going on. But during many
hours of the march that morning I was obliged to ride on my hands and
knees! The road was unusually rough and stony, and the jolting I could
not endure, sitting on the canvas or lying on the padded bottom of the
wagon.
It so happened that Faye was officer of the day that day, and Colonel
Fitz-James, knowing that he was under a heavy strain with a sick wife in
addition to the long marches, sent him one of his horses to ride--a very
fine animal and one of a matched team. At the first halt Faye missed
Hal, and riding back to the company saw he was not with the men, so he
went on to my wagon, but found that I was shut up tight, Cagey asleep,
and the dog not with us. He did not speak to either of us, but kept on
to the last wagon, where a laundress told him that she saw the dog going
back down the road we had just come over.
The wagon master, a sergeant, had joined Faye, riding a mule, and the
two rode on after the dog, expecting every minute to overtake him. But
the recollection of the unhappy year at Baton Rouge with the hospital
steward was still fresh in Hal's memory, and the fear of another
separation from his friends drove him on and on, faster and faster, and
kept him far ahead of the horses. When at last Faye found him, he was
sitting by the smoking ashes of our camp stove, his long nose pointed
straight up, giving the most blood-curdling howls of misery and woe
possible for a greyhound to give, and this is saying much. The poor
dog was wild with delight when he saw Faye, and of course there was
no trouble in bringing him back; he was only too glad to have his old
friend to follow. He must have missed Faye from the company in the
morning, and then failing to find me in the shut-up wagon, had gone back
to camp for us. This is all easily understood, but how did that hound
find the exact spot where our tent had been, even the very ashes of our
stove, on that large camp ground when he has no sense of smell?
I wondered all the day why I did not see Faye and when the stop for
luncheon passed and he had not come I began to worry, as much as I could
think of anything beyond my own suffering. Late in the afternoon we
reached the camp for the night, and still Faye had not come and no
one could tell me anything about him. And I was very, very ill! Doctor
Gordon was most kind and attentive, but neither he nor other friends
could relieve the pain in my heart, for I felt so positive that
something was wrong.
Just as our tent had been pitched Faye rode up, looking weary and
worried, said a word or two to me, and then rode away again. He soon
returned, however, and explained his long absence by telling me briefly
that he had gone back for the dog. But he was quiet and distrait, and
directly after dinner he went out again. When he came back he told me
all about everything that had occurred.
Under any circumstances, it would have been a dreadful thing for him to
have been absent from the command without permission, but when officer
of the day it was unpardonable, and to take the colonel's horse with him
made matters all the worse. And then the wagon master was liable to have
been called upon at any time, if anything had happened, or the command
had come to a dangerous ford. Faye told me how they had gone back for
the dog, and so on, and said that when he first got in camp he rode
immediately to the colonel's tent, turned the horse over to an orderly,
and reported his return to the colonel, adding that if the horse was
injured he would replace him. Then he came to his own tent, fully
expecting an order to follow soon, placing him under arrest.
But after dinner, as no order had come, he went again to see the colonel
and told him just how the unfortunate affair had come about, how he had
felt that if the dog was not found it might cost me my life, as I was so
devoted to the dog and so very ill at that time. The colonel listened
to the whole story, and then told Faye that he understood it all, that
undoubtedly he would have done the same thing! I think it was grand
in Colonel Fitz-James to have been so gentle and kind--not one word of
reproach did he say to Faye. Perhaps memories of his own wife came to
him. The colonel may have a sensitive palate that makes him unpopular
with many, but there are two people in his regiment who know that he has
a heart so tender and big that the palate will never be considered again
by them. Of course the horse was not injured in the least.
We are on the stage road to Helena, and at this place there is a fork
that leads to the northwest which the lieutenant colonel and four
companies will take to go to Fort Missoula, Montana. The colonel,
headquarters, and other companies are to be stationed at Helena
during the winter. We expect to meet the stage going south about noon
to-morrow, and you should have this in eight days. Billie squirrel has
a fine time in the wagon and is very fat. He runs off with bits of my
luncheon every day and hides them in different places in the canvas, to
his own satisfaction at least. One of the mules back of us has become
most friendly, and will take from my hand all sorts of things to eat.
Poor Hal had a fit the other day, something like vertigo, after having
chased a rabbit. Doctor Gordon says that he has fatty degeneration of
the heart, caused by having so little exercise in the South, but that he
will probably get over it if allowed to run every day. But I do not like
the very idea of the dog having anything the matter with his heart. It
was so pathetic to have him stagger to the tent and drop at my feet,
dumbly confident that I could give him relief.
CAMP NEAR HELENA, MONTANA TERRITORY, November, 1877.
THE company has been ordered to Camp Baker, a small post nearly sixty
miles farther on. We were turned off from the Helena road and the rest
of the command at the base of the mountains, and are now about ten miles
from Helena on our way to the new station, which, we are told, is a
wretched little two-company post on the other side of the Big Belt
range of mountains. I am awfully disappointed in not seeing something of
Helena, and very, very sorry that we have to go so far from our friends
and to such an isolated place, but it is the company's turn for detached
service, so here we are.
The scenery was grand in many places along the latter part of the march,
and it is grand here, also. We are in a beautiful broad valley with
snow-capped mountains on each side. From all we hear we conclude there
must be exceptionally good hunting and fishing about Camp Baker, and
there is some consolation in that. The fishing was very good at several
of our camps after we reached the mountains, and I can assure you
that the speckled trout of the East and these mountain trout are not
comparable, the latter are so far, far superior. The flesh is white and
very firm, and sometimes they are so cold when brought out of the water
one finds it uncomfortable to hold them. They are good fighters, too,
and even small ones give splendid sport.
One night the camp was by a beautiful little stream with high banks, and
here and there bunches of bushes and rocks--an ideal home for trout, so
I started out, hoping to catch something--with a common willow pole and
ordinary hook, and grasshoppers for bait. Faye tells everybody that I
had only a bent pin for a hook, but of course no one believes him. Major
Stokes joined me and we soon found a deep pool just at the edge of
camp. His fishing tackle was very much like mine, so when we saw Captain
Martin coming toward us with elegant jointed rod, shining new reel, and
a camp stool, we felt rather crestfallen. Captain Martin passed on and
seated himself comfortably on the bank just below us, but Major Stokes
and I went down the bank to the edge of the pool where we were compelled
to stand, of course.
The water was beautifully clear and as soon as everybody and everything
became quiet, we saw down on the bottom one or two trout, then more
appeared, and still more, until there must have been a dozen or so
beautiful fish in between the stones, each one about ten inches long.
But go near the hooks they would not, neither would they rise to Captain
Martin's most tempting flies--for he, too, saw many trout, from where he
sat. We stood there a long time, until our patience was quite exhausted,
trying to catch some of those fish, sometimes letting the current take
the grasshoppers almost to their very noses, when finally Major Stokes
whispered, "There, Mrs. Rae there, try to get that big fellow!" Now as
we had all been most unsuccessful with the little "fellows," I had no
hope whatever of getting the big one, still I tried, for he certainly
was a beauty and looked very large as he came slowly along, carefully
avoiding the stones. Before I had moved my bait six inches, there was
a flash of white down there, and then with a little jerk I hooked that
fish--hooked him safely.
That was very, very nice, but the fish set up a terrible fight that
would have given great sport with a reel, but I did not have a reel, and
the steep bank directly back of me only made matters worse. I saw that
time must not be wasted, that I must not give him a chance to slacken
the line and perhaps shake the hook off, so I faced about, and putting
the pole over my shoulder, proceeded to climb the bank of four or
five feet, dragging the flopping fish after me! Captain Martin laughed
heartily, but instead of laughing at the funny sight, Major Stokes
jumped to my assistance, and between us we landed the fish up on the
bank. It was a lovely trout--by far the largest we had seen, and Major
Stokes insisted that we should take him to the commissary scales, where
he weighed over three and one half pounds!
The jumping about of my big trout ruined the fishing, of course, in that
part of the stream for some time, so, with a look of disgust for things
generally, Captain Martin folded his rod and camp stool and returned
to his tent. I had the trout served for our dinner, and, having been
so recently caught, it was delicious. These mountain trout are very
delicate, and if one wishes to enjoy their very finest flavor, they
should be cooked and served as soon as they are out of the water. If
kept even a few hours this delicacy is lost--a fact we have discovered
for ourselves on the march up.
The camp to-night is near the house of a German family, and I am writing
in their little prim sitting room, and Billie squirrel is with me and
very busy examining' things generally. I came over to wait while
the tents were being pitched, and was received with such cordial
hospitality, and have found the little room so warm and comfortable that
I have stayed on longer than I had intended. Soon after I came my kind
hostess brought in a cup of most delicious coffee and a little pitcher
of cream--real cream--something I had not tasted for six weeks, and she
also brought a plate piled high with generous pieces of German cinnamon
cake, at the same time telling me that I must eat every bit of it--that
I looked "real peaked," and not strong enough to go tramping around with
all those men! When I told her that it was through my own choice that
I was "tramping," that I enjoyed it she looked at me with genuine pity,
and as though she had just discovered that I did not have good common
sense.
We start on early in the morning, and it will take two three days to
cross the mountains. The little camp of one company looks lonesome after
the large regimental camp we have been with so long. The air is really
wonderful, so clear and crisp and exhilarating. It makes me long for
a good horse, and horses we intend to have as soon as possible. We are
anticipating so much pleasure in having a home once more, even if it
is to be of logs and buried in snow, perhaps, during the winter. Hal
is outside, and his beseeching whines have swelled to awful howls that
remind me of neglected duties in the tent.
CAMP BAKER, MONTANA TERRITORY, November, 1877.
IT was rather late in the afternoon yesterday when we got to this
post, because of a delay on the mountains. But this did not cause
inconvenience to anyone--there was a vacant set of quarters that
Lieutenant Hayden took possession of at once for his family, and where
with camp outfit they can be comfortable until the wagons are unloaded.
Faye and I are staying with the commanding officer and his wife. Colonel
Gardner is lieutenant colonel of the --th Infantry, and has a most
enviable reputation as a post commander. As an officer, we have not
seen him yet, but we do know that he can be a most charming host. He
has already informed Faye that he intends to appoint him adjutant and
quartermaster of the post.
We are in a little valley almost surrounded by magnificent, heavily
timbered mountains, and Colonel Gardner says that at any time one can
find deer, mountain sheep, and bear in these forests, adding that there
are also mountain lions and wild cats! The scenery on the road from
Helena to Camp Baker was grand, but the roads were dreadful, most of the
time along the sides of steep mountains that seemed to be one enormous
pile of big boulders in some places and solid rock in others. These
roads have been cut into the rock and are scarcely wider than the wagon
track, and often we could look almost straight down seventy-five feet,
or even more, on one side, and straight up for hundreds of feet on the
other side.
And in the canons many of the grades were so steep that the wheels of
the wagons had to be chained in addition to the big brakes to prevent
them from running sideways, and so off the grade. I rode down one of
these places, but it was the last as well as the first. Every time
the big wagon jolted over a stone--and it was jolt over stones all
the time--it seemed as if it must topple over the side and roll to the
bottom; and then the way the driver talked to the mules to keep them
straight, and the creaking and scraping of the wagons, was enough to
frighten the most courageous.
In Confederate Gulch we crossed a ferry that was most marvelous. A heavy
steel cable was stretched across the river--the Missouri--and fastened
securely to each bank, and then a flat boat was chained at each end to
the cable, but so it could slide along when the ferryman gripped the
cable with a large hook, and gave long, hard pulls. Faye says that the
very swift current of the stream assisted him much.
The river runs through a narrow, deep canon where the ferry is, and at
the time we crossed everything was in dark shadow, and the water looked
black, and fathoms deep, with its wonderful reflections. The grandeur of
these mountains is simply beyond imagination; they have to be seen to
be appreciated, and yet when seen, one can scarcely comprehend their
immensity. We are five hundred miles from a railroad, with endless
chains of these mountains between. All supplies of every description are
brought up that distance by long ox trains--dozens of wagons in a train,
and eight or ten pairs of oxen fastened to the one long chain that pulls
three or four heavily loaded wagons. We passed many of these trains on
the march up, and my heart ached for the poor patient beasts.
We are to have one side of a large double house, which will give us as
many rooms as we will need in this isolated place. Hal is in the house
now, with Cagey, and Billie is there also, and has the exclusive run of
one room. The little fellow stood the march finely, and it is all owing
to that terrible old wagon that was such a comfort in some ways, but
caused me so much misery in others. These houses must be quite warm;
they are made of large logs placed horizontally, and the inner walls are
plastered, which will keep out the bitter cold during the winter. The
smallest window has an outside storm window.
CAMP BAKER, MONTANA TERRITORY, December, 1877.
THIS post is far over in the Belt Mountains and quite cut off from the
outside world, and there are very few of us here, nevertheless the days
pass wonderfully fast, and they are pleasant days, also. And then we
have our own little excitements that are of intense interest to us, even
if they are never heard of in the world across the snow and ice.
The Rae family was very much upset two days ago by the bad behavior of
my horse Bettie, when she managed to throw Faye for the very first time
in his life! You know that both of our horses, although raised near this
place, were really range animals, and were brought in and broken for us.
The black horse has never been very satisfactory, and Faye has a battle
with him almost every time he takes him out, but Bettie had been lovely
and behaved wonderfully well for so young a horse, and I have been so
pleased with her and her delightful gaits--a little single foot and easy
canter.
The other morning Faye was in a hurry to get out to a lumber camp and,
as I did not care to go, he decided to ride my horse rather than waste
time by arguing with the black as to which road they should go. Ben
always thinks he knows more about such things than his rider. Well,
Kelly led Bettie up from the corral and saddled and bridled her, and
when Faye was ready to start I went out with him to give the horse a few
lumps of sugar. She is a beautiful animal--a bright bay in color--with
perfect head and dainty, expressive ears, and remarkably slender legs.
Faye immediately prepared to mount; in fact, bridle in hand, had his
left foot in the stirrup and the right was over the horse, when up went
Miss Bet's back, arched precisely like a mad cat's, and down in
between her fore legs went her pretty nose, and high up in the air went
everything--man and beast--the horse coming down on legs as rigid
and unbending as bars of steel, and then--something happened to Faye!
Nothing could have been more unexpected, and it was all over in a
second.
Kelly caught the bridle reins in time to prevent the horse from running
away, and Faye got up on his feet, and throwing back his best West Point
shoulders, faced the excited horse, and for two long seconds he and Miss
Bet looked each other square in the eye. Just what the horse thought no
one knows, but Kelly and I remember what Faye said! All desire to laugh,
however, was quickly crushed when I heard Kelly ordered to lead the
horse to the sutler's store, and fit a Spanish bit to her mouth, and to
take the saddle off and strap a blanket on tight with a surcingle, for I
knew that a hard and dangerous fight between man and horse was about to
commence. Faye told Cagey to chain Hal and then went in the house, soon
returning, however, without a blouse, and with moccasins on his feet and
with leggings.
When Kelly returned he looked most unhappy, for he loves horses and
has been so proud of Bettie. But Faye was not thinking of Kelly and
proceeded at once to mount, having as much fire in his eyes as the horse
had in hers, for she had already discovered that the bit was not to her
liking. As soon as she felt Faye's weight, up went her back again,
but down she could not get her head, and the more she pushed down, the
harder the spoon of the bit pressed against the roof of her mouth. This
made her furious, and as wild as when first brought from the range.
She lunged and lunged--forward and sideways--reared, and of course tried
to run away, but with all the vicious things her little brain could
think of, she could not get the bit from her mouth or Faye from her
back. So she started to rub him off--doing it with thought and in the
most scientific way. She first went to the corner of our house, then
tried the other corner of that end, and so she went on, rubbing up
against every object she saw--house, tree, and fence--even going up the
steps at the post trader's. That I thought very smart, for the bit
was put in her mouth there, and she might have hoped to find some kind
friend who would take it out.
It required almost two hours of the hardest kind of riding to conquer
the horse, and to teach her that just as long as she held her head up
and behaved herself generally, the bit would not hurt her. She finally
gave in, and is once more a tractable beast, and I have ridden her
twice, but with the Spanish bit. She is a nervous animal and will always
be frisky. It has leaked out that the morning she bucked so viciously,
a cat had been thrown upon her back at the corral by a playful soldier,
just before she had been led up. Kelly did not like to tell this of a
comrade. It was most fortunate that I had decided not to ride at that
time, for a pitch over a horse's head with a skirt to catch on the
pommel is a performance I am not seeking. And Bettie had been such a
dear horse all the time, her single foot and run both so swift and
easy. Kelly says, "Yer cawn't feel yerse'f on her, mum." Faye is
quartermaster, adjutant, commissary, signal officer, and has other
positions that I cannot remember just now, that compel him to be at his
own office for an hour every morning before breakfast, in addition to
the regular office hours during the day. The post commander is up and
out at half past six every workday, and Sundays I am sure he is a most
unhappy man. But Faye gets away for a hunt now and then, and the other
day he started off, much to my regret, all alone and with only a rifle.
I worry when he goes alone up in these dense forests, and when an
officer goes with him I am so afraid of an accident, that one may shoot
the other. It is impossible to take a wagon, or even ride a horse among
the rocks and big boulders. There are panthers and wild cats and wolves
and all sorts of fearful things up there. The coyotes often come down
to the post at night, and their terrible, unearthly howls drive the dogs
almost crazy--and some of the people, too.