him. He gave me one of his big pistols, and I had my own small one,
and these I put on a table in the tent, after they had gone, and then
fastened the tent flaps tight and sat down to await events. But the tent
soon became stifling, and it occurred to me that it was foolish to shut
myself up so I could not see whatever might come until it was right upon
me, so putting my pistol in my pocket and hiding the other, I opened the
tent and went out. The first thing I saw was a fishing pole with line
and fly, and that I took, and the next was the first sergeant watching
me. I knew then that Faye had told him to take care of me.
I went over to tell him that I was going for a fish, and then on down to
the beautiful river, whose waters are green and very much the color of
the Niagara River. I cast the fly over on the water, and instantly a
large fish came up, took the fly, and went down again so easily and
gracefully that he scarcely made a ripple on the water until he felt
the pull of the line. That was when I forgot everything connected with
camp--Faye, horse thieves, and Indians! I had no reel, of course, and
getting the big fish out of the water was a problem, for I was standing
on a rather high and steep bank. It jumped and jerked in a way that made
me afraid I might be pulled down instead of my pulling the fish up, so I
began to draw him in, and then up, hand over hand, not daring to
breathe while he was suspended in the air. It called for every bit of my
strength, as the shiny thing was so heavy. But I got him; and his length
was just twice the width of my handkerchief--a splendid salmon trout.
I laid it back of a rock in the shade, and went on down the stream,
casting my one fly, and very soon I caught another trout of precisely
the same size as the first, and which I landed the same way, too. I put
it by the rock with the other.
I kept on down the river, whipping it with my lucky fly every few steps,
but I caught no more fish, neither did I get a rise, but I did not mind
that, for I had the two beauties, and I was having a grand time too. I
had caught both large fish without assistance and with a common willow
pole. All that serenity was upset, however, when I heard my name called
with such a roar that I came near jumping over the bank to save myself
from whatever was after me, but the "What are you doing so far from
camp?" came just in time to stop me.
It was Faye, of course, and he was cross because I had gone so far
alone, and had, in a way, disregarded his instructions--had done as I
pleased after he had left me alone. I wanted to go to Junot's, therefore
was not one bit sorry that I had frightened him, and said not a word
to his sputtering about the danger from Indians and horse thieves as we
started back to camp. After we had gone a little distance up I said, "I
left something by that rock." I tried to lift the big fish to show him,
but they were too heavy, and I had to hold up one at a time as I
said, "This is Mr. Indian and this Mr. Horse Thief!" Faye was almost
speechless over my having caught two such large trout, and started
to camp with them at such a pace I had to run, almost, to keep up. He
thought of something of great importance to say to the first sergeant,
simply because he wanted to show them to the company. Some beautiful
trout have been brought in by the enlisted men who went up the river,
and I am so glad, for now they will have such a nice supper.
The horse thieves undoubtedly knew this country well, when they selected
this valley for their hiding place. They have an abundance of delicious
fish the year round at their very door, and there is any amount of
game near, both furred and feathered, and splendid vegetables they
can certainly raise, for they have just sent Faye a large grain sack
overflowing with tender, sweet corn, new beets, turnips, cabbage, and
potatoes. These will be a grand treat to us, as our own vegetables gave
out several days ago. But just think of accepting these things from a
band of desperadoes and horse thieves! Their garden must be inside the
immense stockade, for there is nothing of the kind to be seen outside.
They probably keep themselves in readiness for a long siege by sheriff
and posse that may come down upon them at any time without warning. And
all the time they know that if ever caught stealing horses, their trial
will last just as long as it will take to drag them to a tree that has a
good strong branch.
Charlie says that he is a mason and reads every evening in a book that
is of his own printing. It is really wonderful. Every evening after
dinner he sits out in front of his tent with a large silk handkerchief
over his head, and perhaps another with which to fight the ever-present
mosquitoes, and reads until dark. He is the only literary person in the
command and we are quite proud of him. He is a great comfort to Faye and
me, for his cooking is delicious. The doctor has a camp appetite now and
is not as finicky as when we started on the trip.
FORT MAGINNIS, MONTANA TERRITORY, September, 1880.
IT is almost one week since we got here, but I have not written before
as no mail has been sent out. I hope that the letter left with Junot has
been received, also the two or three notes that were given to horsemen
we met on their way to Fort Benton.
At first, Faye did not tell me all that he knew about those horse
thieves in the Judith Basin, but it finally came out that the trader,
Junot, had told him a most blood-curdling tale of events to come. He had
declared most positively that the desperadoes were planning to attack
the command, the very next morning while crossing the Judith Mountains,
with a hope, of course, of getting the animals. He also told Faye that
one of them would be in camp that evening to ask permission to go with
him to Maginnis. Faye said the whole story was absurd, particularly
the attack, as those horse thieves would never dare attack government
troops. Besides, he had over fifty good men with him, and probably there
were only ten or twelve horse thieves. So not much attention was paid to
what the old Frenchman had said.
But after dinner, when we were sitting outside and Faye and the doctor
were smoking, a man came around the corner of the tent with long,
swinging strides, and was in our midst before we had dreamed of anyone
being near. He spoke to Faye courteously, and declining a chair, dropped
down full length on the ground, with elbows in the grass and chin on the
palms of his hands. His feet were near the tent and his face out, which
placed him in a fine position to observe everything in the camp without
anyone seeing that he was doing so, especially as his eyes were screened
by a soft, broad-brimmed hat. It was impossible to see their color, of
course.
He was young--not over twenty-eight or thirty--and handsome, with a face
that was almost girlish in its fairness. His hair was neatly cut, and so
was his light mustache, and his smooth face showed that he had recently
shaved. He was tall and lithe, and from his chin to his toes was dressed
in fine buckskin--shirt, trousers, leggings, and moccasins--and around
his neck was tied a blue cotton handkerchief, new and clean. That the
man could be a horse thief, an outlaw, seemed most incredible.
He talked very well, too, of the country and the game, and we were
enjoying the change in our usual after-dinner camp conversation, when
suddenly up he jumped, and turning around looked straight at Faye, and
then like a bomb came the request to be allowed to go with him to Fort
Maginnis! He raised the brim of his hat, and there seemed to be a look
of defiance in his steel-blue eyes. But Faye had been expecting this,
and knowing that he was more than a match for the villain, he got up
from his camp stool leisurely, and with great composure told the man:
"Certainly, I will be very glad to have some one along who knows
the trail so well." To be told that he knew the trail must have been
disconcerting to the man, but not one word did he say in reference to
it.
After he had gone, Faye went over to the company, where he remained some
time, and I learned later that he had been giving the first sergeant
careful instructions for the next day. I could not sleep that night
because of horrible dreams--dreams of long, yellow snakes with fiery
eyes crawling through green grass. I have thought so many times since of
how perfectly maddening it must have been to those horse thieves to have
twenty-two nice fat mules and three horses brought almost within the
shadow of their very own stockade, and yet have it so impossible to
gather them in!
At the appointed time the buckskin-man appeared the following morning
on a beautiful chestnut horse with fancy bridle and Mexican saddle, and
with him came a friend, his "pal" he told Faye, who was much older and
was a sullen, villainous-looking man. Both were armed with rifles and
pistols, but there was nothing remarkable in that; in this country it
is a necessity. We started off very much as usual, except that Faye kept
rather close to the "pal," which left Bettie and me alone most of the
time, just a little at one side. I noticed that directly back of the
horse thieves walked a soldier, armed with rifle and pistol, and Faye
told me that night that he was one of the best sharpshooters in the
Army, and that he was back of those men with orders to shoot them down
like dogs if they made one treacherous move. The buckskin man was one of
the most graceful riders I ever saw, and evidently loved his fine mount,
as I saw him stroke his neck several times--and the man himself was
certainly handsome.
Faye had told me that I must not question anything he might tell me
to do, so after we had crossed the valley and gone up the mountains a
little distance he called to me in a voice unnecessarily loud, that I
must be tired riding so far, and had better get in the ambulance for
a while. I immediately dismounted, and giving the bridle rein to a
soldier, I waited for the ambulance to come up. As I got in, I felt that
perhaps I was doing the first act in an awful tragedy. The horsemen and
wagons had stopped during the minute or two I was getting in, but I saw
soldiers moving about, and just as soon as I was seated I looked out to
see what was going on.
A splendid old sergeant was going to the front with four soldiers, whom
I knew were men to be trusted, each one with rifle, bayonet, and belt
full of cartridges, and then I saw that some of the plans for that day's
trip had not been told to me. The men were placed in front of everyone,
four abreast, and Faye at once told the thieves that under no conditions
must one ever get in front of the advance guard. How they must have
hated it all--four drilled soldiers in front of them and a sharpshooter
back of them, and all the time treated by Faye as honored guests!
There were four men at the rear of the wagons, and the posting of these
rear and advance guards, and placing men on either side of the wagons,
had been done without one order from Faye, so my dismounting must have
been the signal for the sergeant to carry out the orders Faye had given
him the night before. Not by one turn of the head did those outlaws show
that they noticed those changes.
In that way we crossed the range. We met a dozen or more men of the very
roughest type, each one heavily armed. They were in parties of two and
three, and Faye thinks that a signal was passed between one of them and
the "pal." But there was no attack as had been predicted! What might
have taken place, however, if Faye had not been prepared, no one can
tell. Certainly part of Junot's story had been carried out--the horse
thief came to the tent and came with us to Maginnis, and it was not
because he wanted the protection of the troops. Faye insists that an
attack was never thought of, but as he was responsible for government
property, including the animals, he had to make preparation to protect
them. Of course those men wanted only the animals. We passed many places
on the divide that were ideal for an ambush--bluffs, huge boulders, and
precipices--everything perfect for a successful hold up.
The men came on to the post with us, and were in camp two nights with
the soldiers. The second day from the Judith, we stopped for luncheon
near a small stream where there were a great many choke-cherry bushes,
and "Buckskin Joe"*--that was his name--brought large bunches of
the cherries to me. His manner showed refinement, and I saw that his
wonderful eyes could be tender as well as steely. Perhaps he had sisters
at the old home, and perhaps, too, I was the first woman he had seen
in months to remind him of them. I shall always believe that he is from
good people some place East, that his "dare-devil" nature got him into
some kind of trouble there, and that he came to this wild country to
hide from Justice. The very morning after we got here, not long after
our breakfast, he appeared at our tent with a fine young deer slung
across the back of his horse, which he presented to us. He had just
killed it. It was most acceptable, as there was no fresh meat in camp.
He and his "pal" stayed around that day and night, and then quietly
disappeared. Not one of the soldiers, even, saw them go.
*About six years after this occurrence, there was a graphic account
in the Western papers of the horrible death of "Buckskin Joe," who
was known as one of the most daring and slippery horse thieves in the
Territory. After evading arrest many times, he was finally hunted down
by a sheriff's posse, when his fiendish fighting excited the admiration
of those who were killing him. A bullet broke one of his legs, and
he went down, but he kept on shooting--and so fast that no one dared
approach him. And when the forearm of his pistol hand was shattered, he
grasped the pistol with the other hand and continued to shoot, even
when he could not sit up, but had to hold himself up by the elbow of his
broken arm. He was finally killed, fairly riddled with bullets. He knew,
of course, all the time what his fate would be if taken alive, and he
chose the cold lead instead of the end of a rope.
It was pleasant to meet our old friends here. Colonel Palmer is in
command, and I was particularly glad to see them. After Mrs. Palmer had
embraced me she held me off a little and said: "What have you been doing
to your face? my, but you are ugly!" The skin on the blistered side has
peeled off in little strips, leaving the new skin very white in between
the parched brown of the old, so I expect I do resemble a zebra or an
Indian with his war paint on. The post, which is only a camp as yet,
is located at the upper end of a beautiful valley, and back of us is a
canon and mountains are on both sides. Far down the valley is a large
Indian village, and we can distinctly see the tepees, and often hear the
"tom-toms" when the Indians dance. There are other Indian camps near,
and it is not safe to go far from the tents without an escort. It seems
to be a wonderful country for game--deer, grouse, and prairie chicken.
Twice we have seen deer come down from the mountains and drink from the
stream just below the post. Bettie and I have scared up chicken every
time we have taken little runs around the camp, and Faye has shot large
bags of them. They are not as great a treat to us as to our friends, for
we had so many on the way over.
We have two wall tents, one for sitting room and one for bedroom, and in
front a "fly" has been stretched. Our folding camp furniture makes the
tents very comfortable. Back of these is the mess, or dining tent, and
back of that is the cook tent. Charlie has a small range now, which
keeps him squeaking or half singing all the time. One morning, before
we got this stove from the quartermaster, breakfast was late, very late.
The wind was blowing a gale, and after waiting and waiting, we concluded
that Charlie must be having trouble with the little sheet-iron camp
stove. So Faye went back to see what was the matter. He returned
laughing, and said he had found a most unhappy Chinaman; that Charlie
was holding the stove down with a piece of wood with one hand, and with
the other was trying to keep the breakfast on the stove.
You know the stovepipe goes up through a piece of tin fastened in the
roof of the tent, which is slanting, and when the canvas catches the
wind and flops up and down and every other way, the stovepipe naturally
has to go with it. The wind was just right that morning to flop
everything--canvas, pipe, stove, and breakfast, too--particularly the
delicate Saratoga chips Charlie had prepared for us, and which, Faye
said, were being blown about like yellow rose leaves. The poor little
heathen was distracted, but when he saw Faye he instantly became a
general and said at once, "You hole-ee him--me takee bleckfus." So Faye
having a desire for breakfast, held down the stove while Charlie got
things together. The Saratoga chips were delicate and crisp and looked
nice, too, but neither the doctor nor I asked Faye if they were some of
the "rose leaves" or just plain potatoes from a dish!
Charlie is splendid and most resourceful. Very near our tent is a small
stream of cold, clear water, and on one side of this he has made a
little cave of stones through which the water runs, and in this he
keeps the butter, milk, and desserts that require a cool place. He is
pottering around about something all the time. There is just one poor
cow in the whole camp, so we cannot get much milk--only one pint each
day--but we consider ourselves very fortunate in getting any at all. I
brought over fourteen dozen eggs, packed in boxes with salt. We are to
start back the first of November, so after we got here I worked out a
little problem in mathematics, and found that the eggs would last by
using only two each day. But Charlie does better than this; he will
manage to get along without eggs for a day or two, and will then
surprise us with a fine omelet or custard. But he keeps an exact account
and never exceeds his allowance.
The doctor is still with us, and shows no inclination to join the
officers' mess that has just been started. He seems to think that he is
one of the family, and would be greatly surprised, and hurt probably, if
he should discover that we would rather be alone.
FORT MAGINNIS, MONTANA TERRITORY, September, 1880.
THERE is a large village of Cree Indians in the valley below, and for
several days they were a great nuisance in the garrison. One bright
morning it was discovered that a long line of them had left their tepees
and were coming in this direction. They were riding single file, of
course, and were chanting and beating "tom-toms" in a way to make one's
blood feel frozen. I was out on one of the little hills at the time,
riding Bettie, and happened to be about the first to see them. I started
for the post at once at a fast gait and told Faye and Colonel Palmer
about them, but as soon as it was seen that they were actually coming to
the post, I rode out again about as fast as I had come in, and went to a
bit of high ground where I could command a view of the camp, and at the
same time be screened by bushes and rocks. And there I remained until
those savages were well on their way back to their own village.
Then I went in, and was laughed at by everyone, and assured by some that
I had missed a wonderful sight. The Crees are Canadian Indians and are
here for a hunt, by permission of both governments. They and the Sioux
are very hostile to each other; therefore when four or five Sioux
swooped down upon them a few days ago and drove off twenty of their
ponies, the Crees were frantic. It was an insult not to be put up
with, so some of their best young warriors were sent after them. They
recaptured the ponies and killed one Sioux.
Now an Indian is shrewd and wily! The Sioux had been a thief, therefore
the Crees cut off his right hand, fastened it to a long pole with the
fingers pointing up, and with much fuss and feathers--particularly
feathers--brought it to the "White Chief," to show him that the good,
brave Crees had killed one of the white man's enemies! The leading
Indian carried the pole with the hand, and almost everyone of those that
followed carried something also--pieces of flags, or old tin pans or
buckets, upon which they beat with sticks, making horrible noises. Each
Indian was chanting in a sing-song, mournful way. They were dressed
most fancifully; some with red coats, probably discarded by the Canadian
police, and Faye said that almost everyone had on quantities of beads
and feathers.
Bringing the hand of a dead Sioux was only an Indian's way of begging
for something to eat, and this Colonel Palmer understood, so great tin
cups of hot coffee and boxes of hard-tack were served to them. Then they
danced and danced, and to me it looked as though they intended to dance
the rest of their lives right on that one spot. But when they saw that
any amount of furious dancing would not boil more coffee, they stopped,
and finally started back to their village.
Faye tells me that as he was going to his tent from the dancing, he
noticed an Indian who seemed to be unusually well clad, his moccasins
and leggings were embroidered with beads and he was wrapped in a
bright-red blanket, head as well as body. As he passed him a voice said
in the purest English, "Lieutenant, can you give me a sear spring for my
rifle?" The only human being near was that Indian, wrapped closely in
a blanket, with only his eyes showing, precisely as one would expect to
see a hostile dressed. Faye said that it gave him the queerest kind of a
sensation, as though the voice had come from another world. He asked the
Indian where he had learned such good English and technical knowledge
of guns, and he said at the Carlisle school. He said also that he was
a Piegan and on a visit to some Cree friends. This was one of the many
proofs that we have had, that no matter how good an education the Indian
may receive, he will return to his blanket and out-of-the-pot way of
living just as soon as he returns to his people. It would be foolish to
expect anything different.
But those Cree Indians! The coffee had been good, very good, and they
wanted more, so the very next morning they brought to Colonel Palmer
an old dried scalp lock, scalp of "White Chief's enemy," with the same
ceremony as they had brought the hand. Then they sat around his tent and
watched him, giving little grunts now and then until in desperation he
ordered coffee for them, after which they danced. The men gave them bits
of tobacco too. Well, they kept this performance up three or four days,
each day bringing something to Colonel Palmer to make him think they had
killed a Sioux. This became very tiresome; besides, the soldiers were
being robbed of coffee, so Colonel Palmer shut himself in his tent and
refused to see them one day, and an orderly told them to go away and
make no noise. They finally left the post looking very mournful, the men
said. I told Colonel Palmer that he might better have gone out on the
hills as I did; that it was ever so much nicer than being shut up in a
tent.
Bettie is learning to rear higher and higher, and I ride Pete now. The
last time I rode her she went up so straight that I slipped back in my
saddle, and some of the enlisted men ran out to my assistance. I let her
have her own way and came back to the tent, and jumping down, declared
to Faye that I would never ride her again. She is very cute in her
badness, and having once discovered that I didn't like a rearing horse,
she has proceeded to rear whenever she wanted her own way. I have
enjoyed riding her because she is so graceful and dainty, but I have
been told so many times that the horse was dangerous and would throw me,
that perhaps I have become a little nervous about her.
A detail of soldiers goes up in the mountains twice every day for poles
with which to make the roofs of the log quarters. They go along a trail
on the other side of the creek, and on this side is a narrow deer path
that runs around the rocky side of a small mountain. Ever since I have
been here I have wanted to go back of the mountain by that path. So,
when I happened to be out on Pete yesterday afternoon at the time the
men started, I at once decided to take advantage of their protection and
ride around the little mountain.
About half a mile up, there were quantities of bushes eight and ten feet
high down in the creek bed, and the narrow trail that Pete was on was
about on a level with the tops of the bushes. At my left the hill was
very steep and covered with stones. I was having a delightful time,
feeling perfectly safe with so many soldiers within call. But suddenly
things changed. Down in those bushes there was a loud crashing and
snapping, and then straight up into the air jumped a splendid deer!
His head and most of his neck were above the bushes, and for just one
instant he looked at us with big inquisitive eyes before he went down
again.