rocky, and skirted with a thick bush. We entered the bush without a
moment’s hesitation, for the Indians advanced on us as soon as they had
caught sight of us. Le Blueux had a small bell attached to his horse’s
neck, which he took off, and, creeping to a large bush, fastened it
with the end of his lariat, and returned holding the other end in
his hand. This stratagem caused the Indians to expend a great amount
of powder and shot in their effort to kill the bell; for, of course,
they supposed the bell indicated the position of ourselves. When they
approached near enough to be seen through the bushes, we fired one gun
at a time, always keeping the other loaded. When we fired the bell
would ring, as if the horse was started by the close proximity of the
gun, but the smoke would not rise in the right place. They continued
to shoot at random into the bushes without injuring us or our faithful
animals, who were close by us, but entirely concealed from the sight of
the Indians. My companion filled his pipe and commenced smoking with as
much sang froid as if he had been in camp.
“This is the last smoke I expect to have between here and camp,” said
he.
“What are we to do?” I inquired, not feeling our position very secure
in a brush fort manned with a company of two, and beleaguered by scores
of Black Foot warriors.
In an instant, before I had time to think, crack went his rifle, and
down came an Indian, who, more bold than the rest, had approached too
near to our garrison.
“Now,” said Le Blueux, “bind your leggins and moccasins around your
head.”
I did so, while he obeyed the same order.
“Now follow me.”
Wondering what bold project he was about to execute, I quietly obeyed
him. He went noiselessly to the edge of the bluff, looked narrowly
up and down the river, and then commenced to slide down the almost
perpendicular bank, I closely following him. We safely reached the
river, into which we dropped ourselves. We swam close under the bank
for more than a mile, until they discovered us.
“Now,” said my comrade, “strike across the stream in double quick time.”
We soon reached the opposite bank, and found ourselves a good mile and
a half ahead of the Indians. They commenced plunging into the river in
pursuit, but they were too late. We ran across the open ground until we
reached a mountain, where we could safely look back and laugh at our
pursuers. We had lost our horses and guns, while they had sacrificed
six or eight of their warriors, besides missing the two scalps they
made so certain of getting hold of.
I had thought myself a pretty good match for the Indians, but I at
once resigned all claims to merit. Le Blueux, in addition to all the
acquired wiles of the Red Man, possessed his own superior art and
cunning. He could be surrounded with no difficulties for which his
inexhaustible brain could not devise some secure mode of escape.
We arrived safe at camp before the first guard was relieved. The
following morning we received a severe reprimand from Captain Sublet
for exposing ourselves on so hazardous an adventure.
As soon as the wounded were sufficiently recovered to be able to
travel, we moved down the river to the junction of Salt River with
Guy’s Fork, about a mile from Snake River. The next day the captain
resolved to pass up to Guy’s Fork to a convenient camping-ground, where
we were to spend the interval until it was time to separate into small
parties, and commence trapping in good earnest for the season.
One day, while moving leisurely along, two men and myself proposed to
the captain to proceed ahead of the main party to ascertain the best
road, to reconnoitre the various streams--in short, to make it a trip
of discovery. We were to encamp one night, and rejoin the main body the
next morning. The captain consented, but gave us strict caution to take
good care of ourselves.
Nothing of importance occurred that day; but the next morning, about
sunrise, we were all thunderstruck at being roused from our sleep by
the discharge of guns close at hand. Two of us rose in an instant, and
gave the war-hoop as a challenge for them to come on. Poor Cotton,
the third of our party, was killed at the first fire. When they saw
us arise, rifle in hand, they drew back; whereas, had they rushed on
with their battle-axes, they could have killed us in an instant. One of
our horses was also killed, which, with the body of our dead comrade,
we used for a breastwork, throwing up, at the same time, all the dirt
we could to protect ourselves as far as we were able. The Indians,
five hundred in number, showered their balls on us, but, being careful
to keep at a safe distance, they did us no damage for some time. At
length my companion received a shot through the heel, while carelessly
throwing up his feet in crawling to get a sight at the Indians without
exposing his body. I received some slight scratches, but no injury that
occasioned me any real inconvenience.
Providence at last came to our relief. Our camp was moving along
slowly, shooting buffalo occasionally, when some of the women, hearing
our guns, ran to the captain, exclaiming, “There is a fight. Hark! hear
the guns!”
He, concluding that there was more distant fighting than is common in
killing buffalo, dispatched sixty men in all possible haste in the
direction of the reports. We saw them as they appeared in sight on the
brow of a hill not far distant, and sent up a shout of triumph. The
Indians also caught sight of them, and immediately retreated, leaving
seventeen warriors dead in front of our little fort, whom we relieved
of their scalps.
We returned to camp after burying our companion, whose body was
literally riddled with bullets. The next day we made a very successful
_surround_ of buffalo, killing great numbers of them. In the evening,
several of our friends, the Snakes, came to us and told us their
village was only five miles farther up, wishing us to move up near
them to open a trade. After curing our meat, we moved on and encamped
near the friendly Snakes. We learned that there were one hundred and
eighty-five lodges of Pun-naks encamped only two miles distant, a
discarded band of the Snakes, very bad Indians, and very great thieves.
Captain Sublet informed the Snakes that if the Pun-naks should steal
any of his horses or anything belonging to his camp, he would _rub them
all out_, and he wished the friendly Snakes to tell them so.
Two of our men and one of the Snakes having strolled down to the
Pun-nak lodges one evening, they were set upon, and the Snake was
killed, and the two of our camp came home wounded. The next morning
volunteers were called to punish the Pun-naks for their outrage. Two
hundred and fifteen immediately presented themselves at the call, and
our captain appointed Bridger leader of the troop.
We started to inflict vengeance, but when we arrived at the site of the
village, behold! there was no village there. They had packed up and
left immediately after the perpetration of the outrage, they fearing,
no doubt, that ample vengeance would be taken upon them.
We followed their trail forty-five miles, and came up with them on
Green River. Seeing our approach, they all made across to a small
island in the river.
“What shall we do now, Jim?” inquired our leader.
“I will cross to the other side with one half the men,” I suggested,
“and get abreast of the island. Their retreat will be thus cut off, and
we can exterminate them in their trap.”
“Go,” said he; “I will take them if they attempt to make this shore.”
I was soon in position, and the enfilading commenced, and was continued
until there was not one left of either sex or any age. We carried
back four hundred and eighty-eight scalps, and, as we then supposed,
annihilated the Pun-nak band. On our return, however, we found six or
eight of their squaws, who had been left behind in the flight, whom we
carried back and gave to the Snakes.
On informing the Snakes of what had taken place, they expressed great
delight. “Right!” they said. “Pun-naks very bad Indians”; and they
joined in the scalp-dance.
We afterward learned that the Pun-naks, when they fled from our
vengeance, had previously sent their old men, and a great proportion of
their women and children, to the mountains, at which we were greatly
pleased, as it spared the effusion of much unnecessary blood. They
had a great “medicine chief” slain with the others on the island; his
_medicine_ was not good this time, at least.
We proceeded thence to a small creek, called Black Foot Creek, in the
heart of the Black Foot country.
It was always our custom, before turning out our horses in the morning,
to send out spies to reconnoitre around, and see if any Indians were
lurking about to steal them. When preparing to move one morning from
the last-named creek, we sent out two men; but they had not proceeded
twenty yards from our _corral_ before a dozen shots were fired at them
by a party of Black Feet, bringing them from their horses severely
wounded. In a moment the whole camp was in motion. The savages made a
bold and desperate attempt to rush upon the wounded men and get their
scalps, but we were on the ground in time to prevent them, and drove
them back, killing four of their number.
The next day we were overtaken by the Snakes, who, hearing of our
skirmish, expressed great regret that they were not present to have
followed them and given them battle again. We seldom followed the
Indians after having defeated them, unless they had stolen our horses.
It was our policy always to act on the defensive, even to tribes that
were known enemies.
When the Snakes were ready, we all moved on together for the head of
Green River. The Indians numbered six or seven thousand, including
women and children; our number was nearly eight hundred altogether,
forming quite a formidable little army, or, more properly, a moving
city. The number of horses belonging to the whole camp was immense.
We had no farther difficulty in reaching Green River, where we remained
six days. During this short stay our numberless horses exhausted the
grass in our vicinity, and it was imperative to change position.
It was now early in September, and it was time to break up our general
encampment, and spread in all directions, as the hunting and trapping
season was upon us. Before we formed our dispersing parties, a number
of the Crows came to our camp, and were rejoiced to see us again. The
Snakes and Crows were extremely amicable.
The Crows were questioning the Snakes about some scalps hanging on our
lodge-poles. They gave them the particulars of our encounter with the
Black Feet, how valiantly we had fought them, and how we had defeated
them. The Crows were highly gratified to see so many scalps taken
from their old and inveterate foes. They wished to see the braves who
had fought so nobly. I was pointed out as the one who had taken the
greatest number of scalps; they told them they had seen me fight,
and that I was a very great brave. Upon this I became the object of
the Crows’ admiration; they were very anxious to talk to me and to
cultivate my acquaintance; but I could speak very little of their
language.
One of our men (named Greenwood), whose wife was a Crow, could speak
their language fluently; he and his wife were generally resorted
to by the Crows to afford full details of our recent victory.
Greenwood, becoming tired of so much questioning, invented a fiction,
which greatly amused me for its ingenuity. He informed them that
White-handled Knife (as the Snakes called me) was a Crow.
They all started in astonishment at this information, and asked how
that could be.
Said Greenwood in reply, “You know that so many winters ago the
Cheyennes defeated the Crows, killing many hundreds of their warriors,
and carrying off a great many of their women and children.”
“Yes, we know it,” they all exclaimed.
“Well, he was a little boy at that time, and the whites bought him of
the Cheyennes, with whom he has staid ever since. He has become a great
brave among them, and all your enemies fear him.”
On hearing this astonishing revelation, they said that I must be given
to them. Placing implicit faith in every word that they had heard, they
hastened to their village to disseminate the joyful news that they had
found one of their own people who had been taken by the Shi-ans when
a _bar-car-ta_ (child), who had been sold to the whites, and who had
now become a great white chief, with his lodge-pole full of the scalps
of the Black Feet, who had fallen beneath his gun and battle-axe. This
excited a great commotion throughout their whole village. All the old
women who remembered the defeat, when the Crows lost two thousand
warriors and a host of women and children, with the ensuing captivity,
were wondering if the great brave was not their own child; thereupon
ensued the greatest anxiety to see me and claim me as a son.
I did not say a word impugning the authenticity of Greenwood’s romance.
I was greatly edified at the inordinate gullibility of the red man, and
when they had gone to spread their tale of wonderment, we had a hearty
laugh at their expense.
Our party now broke up; detachments were formed and leaders chosen.
We issued from the camp, and started in all directions, receiving
instructions to return within a certain day. There were a great many
fur trappers with us, who hunted for their own profit, and disposed of
their peltry to the mountain traders. The trappers were accompanied by
a certain number of hired men, selected according to their individual
preferences, the strength of their party being regulated by the danger
of the country they were going to. If a party was going to the Black
Foot country, it needed to be numerous and well armed. If going among
the Crows or Snakes, where no danger was apprehended, there would go
few or many, just as was agreed upon among themselves. But each party
was in strict obedience to the will of its captain or leader: his word
was supreme law.
My party started for the Crow country, at which I was well content;
for, being a supposed Crow myself, I expected to fare well among them.
It seemed a relief, also, to be in a place where we could rest from our
unsleeping vigilance, and to feel, when we rose in the morning, there
was some probability of our living till night.
I now parted with very many of my friends for the last time. Most of
the members of that large company now sleep in death, their waking
ears no longer to be filled with the death-telling yell of the savage.
The manly hearts that shrunk from no danger have ceased to beat; their
bones whiten in the gloomy fastnesses of the Rocky Mountains, or
moulder on the ever-flowering prairies of the far West. A cloven skull
is all that remains of my once gallant friends to tell the bloody death
that they died, and invoke vengeance on the merciless hand that struck
them down in their ruddy youth.
Here I parted from the boy Baptiste, who had been my faithful companion
so long. I never saw him again.
The party that I started with consisted of thirty-one men, most of them
skillful trappers (Captain Bridger[7] was in our party), and commanded
by Robert Campbell. We started for Powder River, a fork of the Yellow
Stone, and, arriving there without accident, were soon busied in our
occupation.
A circumstance occurred in our encampment on this stream, trivial
in itself (for trivial events sometimes determine the course of a
man’s life), but which led to unexpected results. I had set my six
traps overnight, and on going to them the following morning I found
four beavers, but one of my traps was missing. I sought it in every
direction, but without success, and on my return to camp mentioned the
mystery. Captain Bridger (as skillful a hunter as ever lived in the
mountains) offered to renew the search with me, expressing confidence
that the trap could be found. We searched diligently along the river
and the bank for a considerable distance, but the trap was among the
missing. The float-pole also was gone--a pole ten or twelve feet long
and four inches thick. We at length gave it up as lost.
The next morning the whole party moved farther up the river. To shorten
our route, Bridger and myself crossed the stream at the spot where I
had set my missing trap. It was a buffalo-crossing, and there was a
good trail worn in the banks, so that we could easily cross with our
horses. After passing and traveling on some two miles, I discovered
what I supposed to be a badger, and we both made a rush for him. On
closer inspection, however, it proved to be my beaver, with trap,
chain, and float-pole. It was apparent that some buffalo, in crossing
the river, had become entangled in the chain, and, as we conceived,
had carried the trap on his shoulder, with the beaver pendent on one
side and the pole on the other. We inferred that he had in some way got
his head under the chain, between the trap and the pole, and, in his
endeavors to extricate himself, had pushed his head through. The hump
on his back would prevent it passing over his body, and away he would
speed with his burden, probably urged forward by the four sharp teeth
of the beaver, which would doubtless object to his sudden equestrian
(or rather bovine) journey. We killed the beaver and took his skin,
feeling much satisfaction at the solution of the mystery. When we
arrived at camp we asked our companions to guess how and where we had
found the trap. They all gave various guesses, but, failing to hit the
truth, gave up the attempt.
“Well, gentlemen,” said I, “it was stolen.”
“Stolen!” exclaimed a dozen voice at once.
“Yes, it was stolen by a buffalo.”
“Oh, come now,” said one of the party, “what is the use of coming here
and telling such a lie?”
I saw in a moment that he was angry and in earnest, and I replied, “If
you deny that a buffalo stole my trap, _you_ tell the lie.”
He rose and struck me a blow with his fist. It was my turn now, and the
first pass I made brought my antagonist to the ground. On rising, he
sprang for his gun; I assumed mine as quickly. The bystanders rushed
between us, and, seizing our weapons, compelled us to discontinue our
strife, which would have infallibly resulted in the death of one.
My opponent mounted his horse and left the camp. I never saw him
afterward. I could have taken his expression in jest, for we were very
free in our sallies upon one another; but in this particular instance
I saw his intention was to insult me, and I allowed my passion to
overcome my reflection. My companions counseled me to leave camp for a
few days until the ill feeling should have subsided.
The same evening Captain Bridger and myself started out with our traps,
intending to be gone three or four days. We followed up a small stream
until it forked, when Bridger proposed that I should take one fork and
he the other, and the one who had set his traps first should cross the
hill which separated the two streams and rejoin the other. Thus we
parted, expecting to meet again in a few hours. I continued my course
up the stream in pursuit of beaver villages until I found myself among
an innumerable drove of horses, and I could plainly see they were not
wild ones.
The horses were guarded by several of their Indian owners, or
horse-guards, as they term them, who had discovered me long before
I saw them. I could hear their signals to each other, and in a few
moments I was surrounded by them, and escape was impossible. I resigned
myself to my fate: if they were enemies, I knew they could kill me but
once, and to attempt to defend myself would entail inevitable death. I
took the chances between death and mercy; I surrendered my gun, traps,
and what else I had, and was marched to camp under a strong escort of
_horse-guards_. I felt very sure that my guards were Crows, therefore
I did not feel greatly alarmed at my situation. On arriving at their
village, I was ushered into the chief’s lodge, where there were several
old men and women, whom I conceived to be members of the family. My
capture was known throughout the village in five minutes, and hundreds
gathered around the lodge to get a sight of the prisoner. In the crowd
were some who had talked to Greenwood a few weeks before. They at once
exclaimed, “That is the lost Crow, the great brave who has killed so
many of our enemies. He is our brother.”[8]
This threw the whole village into commotion; old and young were
impatient to obtain a sight of the “great brave.” Orders were
immediately given to summon all the old women taken by the Shi-ans at
the time of their captivity so many winters past, who had suffered the
loss of a son at that time. The lodge was cleared for the _examining
committee_, and the old women, breathless with excitement, their eyes
wild and protruding, and their nostrils dilated, arrived in squads,
until the lodge was filled to overflowing. I believe never was mortal
gazed at with such intense and sustained interest as I was on that
occasion. Arms and legs were critically scrutinized. My face next
passed the ordeal; then my neck, back, breast, and all parts of my
body, even down to my feet, which did not escape the examinations of
these anxious matrons, in their endeavors to discover some mark or
peculiarity whereby to recognize their brave son.
At length one old woman, after having scanned my visage with the utmost
intentness, came forward and said, “If this is my son, he has a mole
over one of his eyes.”
My eyelids were immediately pulled down to the utmost stretch of their
elasticity, when, sure enough, she discovered a mole just over my left
eye!
Then, and oh then! such shouts of joy as were uttered by that
honest-hearted woman were seldom before heard, while all in the crowd
took part in her rejoicing. It was uncultivated joy, but not the less
heartfelt and intense. It was a joy which a mother can only experience
when she recovers a son whom she had supposed dead in his earliest
days. She has mourned him silently through weary nights and busy days
for the long space of twenty years; suddenly he presents himself before
her in robust manhood, and graced with the highest name an Indian can
appreciate. It is but nature, either in the savage breast or civilized,
that hails such a return with overwhelming joy, and feels the mother’s
undying affection awakened beyond all control.
All the other claimants resigning their pretensions, I was fairly
carried along by the excited crowd to the lodge of the “Big Bowl,”
who was my father. The news of my having proved to be the son of Mrs.
Big Bowl flew through the village with the speed of lightning, and, on
my arrival at the paternal lodge, I found it filled with all degrees
of my newly-discovered relatives, who welcomed me nearly to death.
They seized me in their arms and hugged me, and my face positively
burned with the enraptured kisses of my numerous fair sisters, with a
long host of cousins, aunts, and other more remote kindred. All these
welcoming ladies as firmly believed in my identity with the lost one as
they believed in the existence of the Great Spirit.
My father knew me to be his son; told all the Crows that the dead was
alive again, and the lost one was found. He knew it was fact; Greenwood
had said so, and the words of Greenwood were true; his tongue was not
crooked--he would not lie. He also had told him that his son was a
great brave among the white men; that his arm was strong; that the
Black Feet quailed before his rifle and battle-axe; that his lodge was
full of their scalps which his knife had taken; that they must rally
around me to support and protect me; and that his long-lost son would
be a strong breastwork to their nation, and he would teach them how to
defeat their enemies.
They all promised that they would do as his words had indicated.
My unmarried sisters were four in number, very pretty, intelligent
young women. They, as soon as the departure of the crowd would
admit, took off my old leggins, and moccasins, and other garments,
and supplied their place with new ones, most beautifully ornamented
according to their very last fashion. My sisters were very ingenious
in such work, and they well-nigh quarreled among themselves for
the privilege of dressing me. When my toilet was finished to their
satisfaction, I could compare in elegance with the most popular warrior
of the tribe when in full costume. They also prepared me a bed, not so
high as Haman’s gallows certainly, but just as high as the lodge would
admit. This was also a token of their esteem and sisterly affection.
While conversing to the extent of my ability with my father in the
evening, and affording him full information respecting the white
people, their great cities, their numbers, their power, their opulence,
he suddenly demanded of me if I wanted a wife; thinking, no doubt,
that, if he got me married, I should lose all discontent, and forego
any wish of returning to the whites.
I assented, of course.
“Very well,” said he, “you shall have a pretty wife and a good one.”