and Major and Mrs. Stokes, Faye, and I started for a two days' outing
at a little lake that is nestled far up on the side of a mountain. It
is about ten miles from here. There is only a wagon trail leading to
it, and as you go on up and up, and see nothing but rocks and trees, it
would never occur to you that the steep slope of the mountain could be
broken, that a lake of good size could be hidden on its side. You do
not get a glimpse of it once, until you drive between the bushes and
boulders that border its banks, and then it is all before you in amazing
beauty. The reflections are wonderful, the high lights showing with
exquisite sharpness against the dark green and purple depths of the
clear, spring water.
The lake is fearfully deep--the Indians insist that in places it is
bottomless--and it is teeming with trout, the most delicious mountain
trout that can be caught any place, and which come up so cold one can
easily fancy there is an iceberg somewhere down below. Some of these
fish are fourteen or more inches long.
It was rather late in the afternoon when we reached the lake, so we
hurriedly got ourselves ready for fishing, for we were thinking of a
trout dinner. Four enlisted men had followed us with a wagon, in which
were our tents, bedding, and boxes of provisions, and these men
busied themselves at once by putting up the little tents and making
preparations for dinner, and we were anxious to get enough fish for
their dinner as well as our own. At a little landing we found two
row-boats, and getting in these we were soon out on the lake.
If one goes to Fish Lake just for sport, and can be contented with
taking in two or three fish during an all day's hard work, flies should
be used always, but if one gets up there when the shadows are long and
one's dinner is depending upon the fish caught, one might as well begin
at once with grasshoppers--at least, that is what I did. I carried a box
of fine yellow grasshoppers up with me, and I cast one over before the
boat had fairly settled in position. It was seized the instant it
had touched the water, and down, down went the trout, its white sides
glistening through the clear water. For some reason still unaccountable
I let it go, and yard after yard of line was reeled out. Perhaps, after
all, it was fascination that kept me from stopping the plunge of the
fish, that never stopped until the entire line was let out. That brought
me to my senses, and I reeled the fish up and got a fine trout, but I
also got at the same time an uncontrollable longing for land. To be in
a leaky, shaky old boat over a watery, bottomless pit, as the one that
trout had been down in, was more than I could calmly endure, so with
undisguised disgust Faye rowed me back to the landing, where I caught
quite as many fish as anyone out in the boats.
One of the enlisted men prepared dinner for us, and fried the trout in
olive oil, the most perfect way of cooking mountain trout in camp. They
were delicious--so fresh from the icy water that none of their delicate
flavor had been lost, and were crisp and hot. We had cups of steaming
coffee and all sorts of nice things from the boxes we had brought from
the post. A flat boulder made a grand table for us, and of course each
one had his little camp stool to sit upon. Altogether the dinner was a
success, the best part of it being, perhaps, the exhilarating mountain
air that gave us such fine appetites, and a keen appreciation of
everything ludicrous.
While we were fishing, our tents had been arranged for us in real
soldier fashion. Great bunches of long grass had been piled up on each
side underneath the little mattresses, which raised the beds from the
ground and made them soft and springy. Those "A" tents are very small
and low, and it is impossible to stand up in one except in the center
under the ridgepole, for the canvas is stretched from the ridgepole
to the ground, so the only walls are back and front, where there is an
opening. I had never been in one before and was rather appalled at its
limitations, and neither had I ever slept on the ground before, but I
had gone prepared for a rough outing. Besides, I knew that everything
possible had been done to make Mrs. Stokes and me comfortable. The air
was chilly up on the mountain, but we had any number of heavy blankets
that kept us warm.
The night was glorious with brilliant moonlight, and the shadows of the
pine trees on the white canvas were black and wonderfully clear cut, as
the wind swayed the branches back and forth. The sounds of the wind were
dismal, soughing and moaning as all mountain winds do, and made me think
of the Bogy-man and other things. I found myself wondering if anything
could crawl under the tent at my side. I wondered if snakes could have
been brought in with the grass. I imagined that I heard things moving
about, but all the time I was watching those exquisite shadows of the
pine needles in a dreamy sort of way.
Then all at once I saw the shadow of one, then three, things as they ran
up the canvas and darted this way and that like crazy things, and which
could not possibly have grown on a pine tree. And almost at the same
instant, something pulled my hair! With a scream and scramble I was soon
out of that tent, but of course when I moved all those things had moved,
too, and wholly disappeared. So I was called foolish to be afraid in a
tent after the weeks and months I had lived in camp. But just then Mrs.
Stokes ran from her tent, Major Stokes slowly following, and then it
came out that there had been trouble over there also, and that I was
not the only one in disgrace. Mrs. Stokes had seen queer shadows on her
canvas, and coming to me, said, "Will says those things are squirrels!"
That was too much, and I replied with indignation, "They are not
squirrels at all; they are too small and their tails are not bushy."
Well, there was a time! We refused absolutely, positively, to go back
to our tents until we knew all about those darting shadows. We saw that
those two disagreeable men had an understanding with each other and were
much inclined to laugh. It was cold and our wrappers not very warm,
but Mrs. Stokes and I finally sat down upon some camp stools to await
events. Then Faye, who can never resist an opportunity to tease, said to
me, "You had better take care, mice might run up that stool!" So the cat
was out! I have never been afraid of mice, and have always considered it
very silly in women to make such a fuss over them. But those field mice
were different; they seemed inclined to take the very hair from your
head. Of course we could not sit up all night, and after a time had to
return to our tents. I wrapped my head up securely, so my hair could not
be carried off without my knowing something about it. Ever so many times
during the night I heard talking and smothered laughter, and concluded
that the soldiers also were having small visitors with four swift little
legs.
We had more delicious trout for our breakfast; that time fried with tiny
strips of breakfast bacon. The men had been out on the lake very early,
and had caught several dozen beautiful fish. The dinner the evening
before had been much like an ordinary picnic, but the early breakfast up
on the side of a mountain, with big boulders all around, was something
to remember. One can never imagine the deliciousness of the air
at sunrise up on the Rocky Mountains, It has to be breathed to be
appreciated.
Everyone fished during the morning and many fish were caught, every one
of which were carefully packed in wet grass and brought to Birch Creek,
to the unfortunates who had not been on that most delightful trip to
Fish Lake. After luncheon we came down from the mountain and drove to
the Piegan Agency. The heavy wagon came directly to camp, of course.
There is nothing remarkable to be seen at the agency--just a number of
ordinary buildings, a few huts, and Indians standing around the door of
a store that resembles a post trader's. Every Indian had on a blanket,
although Major Stokes said there were several among them who had been to
the Carlisle School.
Along the road before we reached the agency, and for some distance after
we had left it, we passed a number of little one-room log huts occupied
by Indians, often with two squaws and large families of children; and at
some of these we saw wretched attempts at gardening. Those Indians are
provided with plows, spades, and all sorts of implements necessary for
the making of proper gardens, and they are given grain and seeds to
plant, but seldom are any of these things made use of. An Indian scorns
work of any kind--that is only for squaws. The squaws will scratch up a
bit of ground with sticks, put a little seed in, and then leave it for
the sun and rain to do with as it sees fit. No more attention will be
paid to it, and half the time the seed is not covered.
One old chief raised some wheat one year--I presume his squaws did all
the work--and he gathered several sackfuls, which was made into flour at
the agency mill. The chief was very proud. But when the next quarterly
issue came around, his ration of flour was lessened just the amount his
wheat had made, which decided all future farming for him! Why should he,
a chief, trouble himself about learning to farm and then gain nothing
in the end! There is a fine threshing machine at the agency, but the
Indians will have nothing whatever to do with it. They cannot understand
its workings and call it the "Devil Machine."
As we were nearing the Indian village across the creek from us, we came
to a most revolting spectacle. Two or three Indians had just killed an
ox, and were slashing and cutting off pieces of the almost quivering
flesh, in a way that left little pools of blood in places on the side.
There were two squaws with them, squatted on the ground by the dead
animal, and those hideous, fiendish creatures were scooping up the
warm blood with their hands and greedily drinking it! Can one imagine
anything more horrible? We stopped only a second, but the scene was too
repulsive to be forgotten. It makes me shiver even now when I think
of the flashing of those big knives and of how each one of the savages
seemed to be reveling in the smell and taste of blood! I feel that they
could have slashed and cut into one of us with the same relish. It was
much like seeing a murder committed.
Major Stokes told us last evening that when he returned from the East
a few weeks ago, he discovered that one of a pair of beautiful pistols
that had been presented to him had been stolen, that some one had gone
upstairs and taken it out of the case that was in a closet corresponding
to mine, so that accounts for the footsteps I heard in that house the
night the man entered Mrs. Norton's house. But how did the man know just
where to get a pistol? The hospital attendant who was suspected that
night got his discharge a few days later. He stayed around the
garrison so long that finally Colonel Gregory ordered him to leave the
reservation, and just before coming from the post we heard that he had
shot a man and was in jail. A very good place for him, I think.
We expect to return to the post in a few days. I would like to remain
longer, but as everybody and everything will go, I can't very well. The
trout fishing in Birch Creek is very good, and I often go for a little
fish, sometimes alone and sometimes Mrs. Stokes will go with me. I do
not go far, because of the dreadful Indians that are always wandering
about. They have a small village across the creek from us, and every
evening we hear their "tom-toms" as they chant and dance, and when the
wind is from that direction we get a smell now and then of their dirty
tepees. Major Stokes and Mrs. Stokes, also, see the noble side of
Indians, but that side has always been so covered with blankets and
other dirty things I have never found it!
FORT SHAW, MONTANA TERRITORY, November, 1882.
YOU will be shocked, I know, when you hear that we are
houseless--homeless--that for the second time Faye has been ranked out
of quarters! At Camp Supply the turn out was swift, but this time it
has been long drawn out and most vexatious. Last month Major Bagley came
here from Fort Maginnis, and as we had rather expected that he would
select our house, we made no preparations for winter previous to his
coming. But as soon as he reached the post, and many times after, he
assured Faye that nothing could possibly induce him to disturb us, and
said many more sweet things.
Unfortunately for us, he was ordered to return to Fort Maginnis to
straighten out some of his accounts while quartermaster, and Mrs. Bagley
decided to remain as she was until Major Bagley's return. He was away
one month, and during that time the gardener stored away in our little
cellar our vegetables for the winter, including quantities of beautiful
celery that was packed in boxes. All those things had to be taken down
a ladder, which made it really very hard work. Having faith in Major
Bagley's word, the house was cleaned from top to bottom, much painting
and calcimining having been done. All the floors were painted and
hard-oiled, and everyone knows what discomfort that always brings about.
But at last everything was finished, and we were about to settle down to
the enjoyment of a tidy, cheerful little home when Major Bagley appeared
the second time, and within two hours Faye was notified that his
quarters had been selected by him!
We are at present in two rooms and a shed that happened to be
unoccupied, and I feel very much as though I was in a second-hand shop.
Things are piled up to the ceiling in both rooms, and the shed is full
also. All of the vegetables were brought up from the cellar, of course,
and as the weather has been very cold, the celery and other tender
things were frozen. General and Mrs. Bourke have returned, and at
once insisted upon our going to their house, but as there was nothing
definite about the time when we will get our house, we said "No." We are
taking our meals with them, however, and Hang is there also, teaching
their new Chinaman. But I can assure you that I am more than cross. If
Major Bagley had selected the house the first time he came, or even
if he had said nothing at all about the quarters, much discomfort and
unpleasantness would have been avoided. They will get our nice clean
house, and we will get one that will require the same renovating we have
just been struggling with. I have made up my mind unalterably to one
thing--the nice little dinner I had expected to give Major and Mrs.
Bagley later on, will be for other people, friends who have had less
honey to dispose of.
The splendid hunting was interrupted by the move, too. Every October in
this country we have a snowstorm that lasts usually three or four days;
then the snow disappears and there is a second fall, with clear sunny
days until the holidays. This year the weather remained warm and the
storm was later than usual, but more severe when it did come, driving
thousands of water-fowl down with a rush from the mountain streams and
lakes. There is a slough around a little plateau near the post, and for
a week or more this was teeming with all kinds of ducks, until it was
frozen over. Sometimes we would see several species quietly feeding
together in the most friendly way. Faye and I would drive the horses
down in the cutter, and I would hold them while he walked on ahead
hunting.
One day, when the snow was falling in big moist flakes that were so
thick that the world had been narrowed down to a few yards around us,
we drove to some tall bushes growing on the bank of the slough. Faye was
hunting, and about to make some ducks rise when he heard a great whir
over his head, and although the snow was so thick he could not see just
what was there, he quickly raised his gun and fired at something he saw
moving up there. To his great amazement and my horror, an immense swan
dropped down and went crashing through the bushes. It was quite as
white as the snow on the ground, and coming from the dense cloud of snow
above, where no warning of its presence had been given, no call sounded,
one felt that there was something queer about it all. With its enormous
wings spread, it looked like an angel coming to the earth.
The horses thought so, also, for as soon as it touched the bushes they
bolted, and for a few minutes I was doubtful if I could hold them. I was
so vexed with them, too, for I wanted to see that splendid bird. They
went around and around the plateau, and about all I was able to do at
first was to keep them from going to the post. They finally came down
to a trot, but it was some time before I could coax them to go to the
bushes where the swan had fallen. I did not blame them much, for when
the big bird came down, it seemed as if the very heavens were falling.
We supplied our friends with ducks several days, and upon our own dinner
table duck was served ten successive days. And it was just as acceptable
the last day as the first, for almost every time there was a different
variety, the cinnamon, perhaps, being the most rare.
Last year Hang was very contrary about the packing down of the eggs for
winter use. I always put them in salt, but he thought they should be put
in oats because Mrs. Pierce had packed hers that way. You know he had
been Mrs. Pierce's cook two years before he came to me, and for a time
he made me weary telling how she had things done. Finally I told him he
must do as I said, that he was my cook now. There was peace for a while,
and then came the eggs.
He would not do one thing to assist me, not even take down the eggs, and
looked at Volmer with scorn when he carried down the boxes and salt. I
said nothing, knowing what the result would be later on if Hang remained
with me. When the cold weather came and no more fresh eggs were brought
in, it was astonishing to see how many things that stubborn Chinaman
could make without any eggs at all. Get them out of the salt he simply
would not. Of course that could not continue forever, so one day I
brought some up and left them on his table without saying a word. He
used them, and after that there was no trouble, and one day in the
spring he brought in to show me some beautifully beaten eggs, and said,
"Velly glood--allee same flesh."
This fall when the time came to pack eggs, I said, "Hang, perhaps we had
better pack the eggs in oats this year." He said, "Naw, loats no glood!"
Then came my revenge. I said, "Mrs. Pierce puts hers in oats," but he
became angry and said, "Yes, me know--Missee Pleese no know--slalt makee
him allee same flesh." And in salt they are, and Hang packed every one.
I offered to show him how to do it, but he said, "Me know--you see." It
gave him such a fine opportunity to dictate to Volmer! If the striker
did not bring the eggs the very moment he thought they should be in,
Hang would look him up and say, "You bling leggs!" Just where these
boxes of eggs are I do not know. The Chinaman has spirited them off to
some place where they will not freeze. He cannot understand all this
ranking out of quarters, particularly after he had put the house in
perfect order. When I told him to sweep the rooms after everything had
been carried out, he said: "What for? You cleanee house nuff for him;
he no care," and off he went. I am inclined to think that the little man
was right, after all.
There have been many changes in the garrison during the past few months,
and a number of our friends have gone to other posts. Colonel and Mrs.
Palmer, Major and Mrs. Pierce, and Doctor and Mrs. Gordon are no longer
here. We have lost, consequently, both of our fine tenors and excellent
organist, and our little choir is not good now. Some of us will miss in
other ways Colonel Palmer's cultivated voice. During the summer four of
us found much pleasure in practicing together the light operas, each one
learning the one voice through the entire opera.
When we get settled, if we ever do, we will be at our old end of the
garrison again, and our neighbors on either side will be charming
people. There is some consolation in that; nevertheless, I am thinking
all the time of the pretty walls and shiny floors we had to give up, and
to a very poor housekeeper, too. After we get our house, it will take
weeks to fix it up, and it will be impossible to take the same interest
in it that we found in the first. If Faye gets his first lieutenancy in
the spring, it is possible that we may have to go to another post, which
will mean another move. But I am tired and cross; anyone would be under
such uncomfortable conditions.
FORT ELLIS, MONTANA TERRITORY, March, 1883.
THE trip over was by far the most enjoyable of any we have taken between
Fort Shaw and this post, and we were thankful enough that we could come
before the snow began to melt on the mountains. Our experience with the
high water two years ago was so dreadful that we do not wish to ever
encounter anything of the kind again. The weather was delightful--with
clear, crisp atmosphere, such as can be found only in this magnificent
Territory. It was such a pleasure to have our own turn-out, too, and to
be able to see the mountains and canons as we came along, without having
our heads bruised by an old ambulance.
Faye had to wait almost twelve years for a first lieutenancy, and now,
when at last he has been promoted, it has been the cause of our leaving
dear friends and a charming garrison, and losing dear yellow Hang, also.
The poor little man wept when he said good-by to me in Helena. We had
just arrived and were still on the walk in front of the hotel, and of
course all the small boys in the street gathered around us. I felt very
much like weeping, too, and am afraid I will feel even more so when I
get in my own home. Hang is going right on to China, to visit his mother
one year, and I presume that his people will consider him a very rich
man, with the twelve hundred dollars he has saved. He has never cut his
hair, and has never worn American clothes. Even in the winter, when
it has been freezing cold, he would shuffle along on the snow with his
Chinese shoes.
I shall miss the pretty silk coats about the house, and his swift,
almost noiseless going around. That Chinamen are not more generally
employed I cannot understand, for they make such exceptional servants.
They are wonderfully economical, and can easily do the work of two
maids, and if once you win their confidence and their affection they are
your slaves. But they are very suspicious. Once, when Bishop Tuttle was
with us, he wanted a pair of boots blackened, and set them in his room
where Hang could see them, and on the toe of one he put a twenty-five
cent piece. Hang blackened the boots beautifully, and then put the money
back precisely where it was in the first place. Then he came to me
and expressed his opinion of the dear bishop. He said, "China-man no
stealee--you tellee him me no stealee--he see me no takee him"--and then
he insisted upon my going to see for myself that the money was on the
boot. I was awfully distressed. The bishop was to remain with us several
days, and no one could tell how that Chinaman might treat him, for I
saw that he was deeply hurt, but it was utterly impossible to make him
believe otherwise than that the quarter had been put there to test his
honesty. I finally concluded to tell the bishop all about it, knowing
that his experience with all kinds of human nature had been great in his
travels about to his various missions, and his kindness and tact with
miner, ranchman, and cowboy; he is now called by them lovingly "The
Cowboy Bishop." He laughed heartily about Hang, and said, "I'll fix
that," which he must have done to Hang's entire satisfaction, for he
fairly danced around the bishop during the remainder of his stay with
us.
Faye was made post quartermaster and commissary as soon as he reported
for duty here, and is already hard at work. The post is not large,
but the office of quartermaster is no sinecure. An immense amount of
transportation has to be kept in readiness for the field, for which
the quartermaster alone is held responsible, and this is the base of
supplies for outfits for all parties--large and small--that go to
the Yellowstone Park, and these are many, now that Livingstone can be
reached from the north or the south by the Northern Pacific Railroad.
Immense pack trains have to be fitted out for generals, congressmen,
even the President himself, during the coming season. These people
bring nothing whatever with them for camp, but depend entirely upon the
quartermaster here to fit them out as luxuriously as possible with tents
and commissaries--even to experienced camp cooks!