HUGH GLASS AND THE GRIZZLY BEAR (1823)
"AS SLICK AS A PEELED ONION"
The Blackfeet remained firm enemies of the invading trappers and
fur-hunters. John Colter's adventures were the beginning of a long and
bitter war. The Crows made friends with the white men, and only stole
their horses and traps and other "plunder;" but to a Crow this was no
crime. The Sioux and Cheyennes and Arapahos and Utes frequently
declared that their hearts were good. The Blackfeet never softened.
They were many in number, and proud and scornful, and did not stoop
even to pretend friendship.
The Three Forks region became known as one of the most dangerous places
in the beaver country. All the Upper Missouri River, from the
Yellowstone River on, was dangerous by reason of the widely roaming
Blackfeet.
Of course, the American trapper and trader did not stay away, on this
account. Manuel Lisa and others had formed the Missouri Fur Company,
in 1809. In 1822 the Rocky Mountain Fur Company was organized, at St.
Louis, and advertised for "one hundred young men to ascend the Missouri
River to its source, there to be employed for one, two, or three
years," trapping.
It proved to be a famous company. It had on its rolls Jim Bridger, Kit
Carson, Jedediah Smith the Knight in Buckskin, the Sublette brothers,
Jim Beckwourth the French mulatto who lived with the Crows as chief,
and scores of others, mainly young men, genuine Americans of both
French and Anglo-Saxon blood. Its career did not cease until the
summer of 1834.
The two men who organized the company were General William Henry Ashley
of the Missouri militia, and first lieutenant-governor of the State;
and Major Andrew Henry who had helped to found the Missouri Fur Company
and now was mining for lead in Washington County southwest of St. Louis.
Major Henry already had served in the Blackfeet country. He was there
at the Three Forks in the spring of 1810, when five trappers had been
killed or captured and John Colter had decided to pull out. Next,
George Drouillard, who had been a hunter with the Lewis and Clark party
(another of John Colter's old companions), and whose father Pierre
Drouillard had rescued Simon Kenton from the Shawnees, was killed while
fighting bravely. Finally the Blackfeet had driven all the trappers
from that region. Major Henry led his remaining men west across the
mountains, to the Snake River in Idaho. There on Henry Fork he built a
trading-post. It was the first American post west of the Rocky
Mountains.
Major Henry returned to St. Louis in 1811. He had met with bad luck in
the fur-hunt business, so he went into mining. But the beaver country
kept calling to him. He was not yet beaten by the Indians, the snows,
the freshets and the hunger.
Therefore in 1822 he started again, for the mouth of the Yellowstone
and the Great Falls of the Missouri, farther up. The Assiniboines
stole all his horses. He stayed at the mouth of the Yellowstone until
he had traded for more, from the Crows; went on to the Great Falls--and
the Blackfeet again smashed him and sent him back down-river, minus
four good men.
General Ashley was to follow him, with reinforcements of another one
hundred young men. He was met by a courier from his partner, asking
for horses, horses, horses. He stopped to trade with the Arikaras, in
present South Dakota; they suddenly attacked him, rolled him up, and
stopped him completely.
He had to drop back, fortify, and call for volunteers to take word to
Major Henry that nothing could be done this season until the way had
been opened. Jedediah Smith, aged twenty-five, stepped forward. He
was of New York State, and had been in the West only two years; had
never been farther from St. Louis than this, into the Indian country.
But his voice rang true; he wished to learn. General Ashley gave him a
French-Canadian of St. Louis as a scout companion, and together they
crossed the six hundred miles of vast lonely plains infested by the
Arikaras and Sioux and Assiniboines, to Major Henry at the mouth of the
Yellowstone.
Major Henry's party returned with them, to General Ashley at the mouth
of the Cheyenne River in South Dakota. From the United States post at
the Lewis and Clark's Council Bluffs, western Iowa of to-day,
Lieutenant-Colonel Henry Leavenworth (Fort Leavenworth of Kansas is
named for him) of the Sixth United States Infantry, hastened up with
six companies of regulars, several cannon and three keel-boats. Joshua
Pilcher, president of the Missouri Fur Company, joined him; General
Ashley and Major Henry met him with other men; four or five hundred
Sioux enlisted--the Sioux hated the Arikaras. And all together (except
that the Sioux soon quit, disgusted with the way the white soldiers
fought) they battered at the Arikara village from a distance until the
enemy announced that it was time to make peace.
Now Major Henry took eighty men and once again set out, with horses and
packs, for the Yellowstone, to finish the season. He had a fine
company--the pick of the rank and file: Jedediah Smith, Jim Bridger,
William ("Billy") Sublette whom the Indians were to name "Cut Face" and
"Left Hand," Davy Jackson, old "Cut Nose" Edward Rose who was half
white, one quarter Cherokee and one quarter negro and had been a chief
of the Crows, "old" Hugh Glass, and others.
Major Henry, of the dark hair, blue eyes, and fondness for the violin,
had only fair luck on this trip. Trapper Hugh Glass had much worse, at
the beginning, although he ended well.
He was from Pennsylvania, but was no greenhorn on the beaver trail, or
else they would not have called him "old." The title "old" announced
that a man was "beaver wise" and "Injun wise." So "old" Hugh Glass was
a leather-faced, leather-clad, whiskered veteran of probably not over
forty years but of the right experience as a "_hivernan_" or "winterer."
The route taken left the Missouri River, to cut across country more to
the westward, for the Yellowstone direct. Near evening of the fifth
day out they all had turned up the Grand River, still in present South
Dakota, and the hunters were riding widely or trudging through the
river thickets, looking for meat.
This was elk, deer and buffalo country--also bear country. Those were
days when the grizzly bear ranged the plains as far east as the Upper
Missouri; and he posed as the monarch of all he surveyed. The Lewis
and Clark men had discovered him on their outward trip in 1804-1805;
they had brought back astonishing reports of him. He stood almost nine
feet tall, on his hind legs; his fore paws were nine inches across; his
claws were over four inches long; his tusks were prodigious; his nose
as large as that of an ox; and two men could scarcely carry his hide.
Eight and ten balls were sometimes required, to kill him; he would run
a mile and more, after being shot through the heart; he feared nothing.
Captain Lewis declared that he would rather fight two Indians at once,
than one "white bear." No such an animal was known in Kentucky.
The great grizzly usually lurked in the willows, wild-plum trees and
other brush of the stream courses. Here he made his bed, and from here
he charged without warning--afraid not at all of the two-legged enemy
and their single-shot, muzzle-loading flint-lock rifles. In spite of
his size, he was marvelously quick. Besides, he had a short temper.
Hugh Glass was making his way, this August evening, amidst the tangle
of wild plums, berry bushes, and willows along the bank of the Grand.
Suddenly he had burst out into a small clearing--a bear's "nest" made
by crushing the brush in a circle: and the bear was at home, had heard
him coming.
More than that, it was an old she-bear, and a mother bear, lying with
her two cubs upon the twigs and sand. Hugh Glass, a careless though a
skilled hunter, had met with a surprise. Before he had time to spring
back or even to set the hair-trigger of his rifle, she was towering
over him: a huge yellowish bulk whose deep-set piggish little eyes
glowed greenish with rage, whose white tusks gleamed in a snarling,
dripping red mouth, whose stout arms (thicker than his calves) reached
for him with their long curved claws.
This alarming sight he saw--and then she grabbed him, with a stroke
that nearly scalped him; drew him in to her, lifted him off the ground
to hug him, bit him in the throat, and hurling him flat tore a mouthful
of flesh from him and gave it to her cubs!
Horrible! Was he to be eaten alive, like a deer? Evidently she looked
upon him as a species of animal that might be a tidbit for her family.
When she turned to call her cubs and give them the meat she slightly
removed her weight from him. With a writhe he scrambled to get away.
No use. She was after him at once; so were the cubs, as eager as she.
They did not mean that their supper should escape. The whole family
commenced to maul him. The mother seized him by the shoulder and
straddled him; she bit, the two cubs bit and raked. He was only a toy
to them, and being rapidly gashed to ribbons he would have died then
and there had not his shouts and the growling of the bears brought help.
First, his hunting partner arrived, hot-foot, with rifle ready. One
cub drove him waist deep into the river before a ball finished that
young battler. The other men hastened in, summoned by the redoubled
cries for help. The old mother grizzly was standing upon Hugh Glass
and bellowing defiance. The second cub ran. By several volleys they
killed the mother grizzly; then they rolled her off from Trapper Glass
and inspected him, to see what they could do.
"Poor old Hugh! He's a goner--he's nigh et up." That was the verdict.
He certainly looked like a "goner"--all bloody and mangled, with
scarcely an inch of sound skin on his face, body and limbs. He could
not see, he was past speaking, he was unable to stand; he only lay and
dismally groaned.
They washed him and patched him and bound him as best they might, and
took counsel together. They couldn't carry him on; they couldn't send
him back; and they couldn't camp here, waiting for him to get well or
to die; they had to reach the Henry fort at the mouth of the
Yellowstone, with their horses and supplies, before winter.
"If two of you men will stay and nurse Glass, we'll make up a purse to
pay for the loss of your fall hunt," Major Henry proposed.
Trapper Fitzgerald, and a seventeen-year-old who is said to have been
Jim Bridger, agreed to stay with Hugh Glass and nurse him or bury him.
They were given eighty dollars, to cover the beaver fur that they might
miss out on. Major Henry left them and the groaning Hugh, and hastened
with his other men for the Yellowstone.
It was a dangerous and lonely job. They were two (one of them only
seventeen and rather of a greenhorn yet); this was Arikara and Sioux
country; the Arikaras had shown bad hearts; they fought the Sioux and
all friends of the Sioux, the Sioux fought them and all friends of
them; and caught by one band or another, white hunters might fare ill.
Forty dollars was small pay for risking one's scalp. As for risking it
to save a comrade, of course no pay at all was asked. So the money did
not figure.
Old Hugh did not grow better; on the contrary, he seemed to grow worse.
He was a frightful sight. The teeth and claws of the bears had
poisoned him and he was one mass of gaping wounds; lay moaning and
raving until his fever weakened him so that he had no
strength--couldn't swallow nourishment to keep alive and the men had to
sit beside him constantly to brush away the flies.
On the fifth day they gave him up.
"He'll not live the night."
"No. He's goin' fast. It's a wonder he's held out this long, poor
Hugh. I never did see a human bein' hang on like him."
"What'll we do, then?"
"Wall, youngster, thar's only one thing to do. That's to pull out
while we kin, 'fore we lose our ha'r. 'Tis a wonder the Injuns ain't
diskivvered us already. Glass is as good as dead, now; but we'll wait
till dark."
"I don't feel jest right about leavin' him, Tom," young Jim objected.
"'Tain't natteral to desart a man, that way, an' we said we'd stay."
"We said we'd stay to nurse him or bury him, but he's past nursin' an'
he ain't quite ripe for buryin', son. He will be, by mornin'; but what
difference to him whether he's layin' atop the ground or under the
ground? An' that's a matter o' twelve hours to us, an' twelve hours
counts a heap, on the Injun trail. The Injuns can't do him any harm.
They kin harm us a lot. No; it's time we kin light out, an' if we say
he's dead we'll not be lyin', for dead he'll be long 'fore we get to
t'other end. Two live men are wuth more'n one dead man, in this
country; an' we've done our duty to old Hugh, sech as he is. We'd best
take his gun an' fixin's, too; he won't need 'em an' you kin be sartin
he wouldn't want the Injuns to have 'em."
When they left, that night, Trapper Glass appeared to be scarcely
breathing. He could not possibly last through till morning; and by
morning they might be well upon their way. They rode off. It was a
mean thing to do--not at all like Jim Bridger if that was young Jim
Bridger; but he could not stay alone and they neither of them had any
idea that Hugh Glass would be otherwise than dead within a few hours.
When, early in a morning several days afterward, Trapper Hugh opened
his tired eyes and gazed weakly around him, he saw nothing astir except
the birds and rabbits. He heard nothing. He had faint memory of two
companions--knew their names, or thought that he did; but where were
they? The camp-fire ashes were cold; no breakfast smoke arose. He saw
no packs, no bedding; the bones of the she-bear were scattered and
white and dry.
He called feebly.
"Tom! Jim! Hello! Whar be ye?"
Nobody answered. He tried to sit up; looked for his rifle, felt for
his shot-pouch and powder-horn. His two nurses were gone; so were his
gun, horn, pouch that held his knife and flint and steel. He had been
abandoned; and such a blaze of wrath surged through him that he
determined now to live if only to trail those fellows and kill them.
Yes, by thunder, he'd crawl clear to Fort Henry at the Yellowstone and
shoot the two in their tracks!
He was too weak to sit or stand, but he managed to draw himself along
and find a spring. There he lay, day and night, picking the fruit from
the low wild-cherry and buffalo-berry bushes as far as he might reach,
and dozing and bathing his wounds; and he got stronger. The tide of
life crept higher and higher. Trapper Hugh knew that he was going to
live. But he was scarred redly from head to foot, had lost part of his
whiskers and part of his hair; was peeled to the bone, in places. What
a face he had, although he could not see it!
In about ten days he was ready to travel. The nearest trading-post
that he knew of was fully one hundred miles southeast, on the Missouri.
That looked like a long, long distance for a man who could not walk
straight and had not even a knife. But he was bound to go, get patched
up, and find those two villains who had abandoned him--who had left him
as dead when he wasn't dead at all!
He managed to find roots, and more berries. At last, on his
staggering, slow way, he sighted a late buffalo-calf surrounded by
wolves. The wolves killed the calf. He waited until they had dulled
their appetites; then waving his arms and shouting he staggered in upon
them. He was enough to put almost anything to flight. The wolves
dropped their bushy tails and slunk off; and Hugh Glass thankfully
"chawed" the raw, warm meat.
He stayed here a short time. He went on, stronger. He came to a
deserted Indian village. A few Indian dogs were prowling around. He
was very hungry again. He spent two days in coaxing the dogs to him,
in order to get his hands upon one. Then he killed it and partly ate
it. Living thus, by his wits, like a wild animal or a wild man, he
arrived at the trading post near the mouth of the Teton or Mad River,
central South Dakota.
But he did not stay long--not even to get patched up. A party of
trappers arrived, in a boat from down-river; they were going above, to
the Yellowstone--the very spot for which he hankered and where his
revenge waited. He embarked. The Arikaras ambushed the boat and
killed all the party except Hugh Glass.
They did not get the scalp of old Hugh; no, indeed. He bore a charmed
life. He had left the boat, the day before, to make a short cut to
Fort Tilton, which lay around a bend. The Arikaras only chased him
into the arms of two Mandans; the Mandans took him into Fort
Tilton--and that same night, such was his hurry, he set out alone
again, on foot, for the Yellowstone and the Andrew Henry fort at the
mouth of the Big Horn in Crow and the Blackfoot country.
He did not fear; he believed that nothing could kill him. Nothing had
been able to kill him, yet! Thirty-eight days later, or near the close
of October, Trapper Glass strode to the gate of the Henry fort at the
mouth of the Big Horn, up the Yellowstone.
The sentry stared, agape.
"Who are you?"
"How, yoreself, young feller. Whoopee! Tell 'em hyar's old Hugh
Glass, who war et by a grizzly b'ar an' is slick as a peeled onion; an'
he wants his gun an' fixin's. Whar's the rascals that stole all my
plunder?"
Hugh Glass! A miracle! But he it was.
"We thought you were dead and buried, man!"
"Wall, I ain't, not by a jugful. An' I wants my plunder an' the scalps
o' them two villains."
"They aren't here. They're down at Atkinson."
What? Fort Atkinson was the Council Bluffs, on the lower Missouri one
thousand miles away.
"I'll git 'em yit," vowed old Hugh. "If I'd only have knowed! I
warn't very fur from Atkinson."
In February he started for Atkinson, with four other men. They
traveled across country, through central Wyoming, and struck the
Platte; paddled down the Platte in hide boats that they made--and ran
right into the Arikaras. By night-fall old Hugh found himself again
alone; he had lost all four of his comrades (two had been killed before
his eyes), and most of his new outfit. But, he said:
"I felt quite rich when I found my knife and steel in my shot pouch.
These little fixin's make a man feel right peart when he is three or
four hundred miles away from anybody or anywhere--all alone among the
painters (panthers) and the wild varmints."
In the early spring the buffalo calves are young and senseless. He
easily caught them, cut them up, made a fire and cooked the meat; and
in June he was at Fort Atkinson.
By this time he had forgiven the youngster. He was willing to believe
that the "young feller" wasn't used to trapper ways, and hadn't known
any better. But he still bore a grudge against Fitzgerald.
Fitzgerald was at Atkinson, enlisted in the army. Old Hugh raged and
stormed, but did not dare to touch him. They talked it over; Fitz
explained why he had left the grizzly bear camp--had stayed five days,
at the risk of his own life, until there wasn't any nursing to be done;
and when he had gone on Hugh Glass was the same as dead and he ought to
have _stayed_ dead. Wasn't that reasonable?
Hugh scratched his scarred head and half agreed. The commanding
officer ordered that he be given a brand new outfit; whatever he
needed. This squared matters, and Trapper Hugh proceeded to entertain
the garrison with his tall stories of how he had been "et by a b'ar,"
and had been chasin' his plunder for ten months, between the lower
Missouri and the Yellowstone.
This bear adventure made "Old Glass" a celebrated figure among the
traders and trappers of beaver days on the Upper Missouri. As seemed
to him, he had earned the right to live forever, in defiance of Injuns
and "varmints." But in the winter of 1832-1833 the Arikaras killed
him, on the ice of the Yellowstone River, hard by the mouth of the same
Big Horn where he had so astonished the Andrew Henry fort nine years
before.