TRADING-POSTS AND THEIR STORIES.
As early as the first decade of the present century, the great fur
companies sent out expeditions up the valley of the Platte in the
charge of their agents, to trap the beaver and other animals valuable
for their beautiful skins. The hardships of these pioneers in the
beginning of a trade which in a short time assumed gigantic proportions
are a story of suffering and privation which has few parallels in the
history of the development of our mid-continent region. Until the
establishment of the several trading-posts, the lives of these men
were continuous struggles for existence, as no company could possibly
transport provisions sufficient to last beyond the most remote
settlements, and the men were compelled to depend entirely upon their
rifles for a supply of food. When posts were located at convenient
distances from each other in the desolate country where their vocation
was carried on, the chances of the trapper for regular meals every day
were materially enhanced. Before the establishment of these
rendezvous, where everything necessary for his comfort was kept,
the trapper subsisted on deer, bear-meat, buffalo, and wild turkeys
—the latter were found in abundance everywhere. In times of great
scarcity, he was frequently compelled to resort to dead horses.
His coffee, and perhaps a scant supply of flour which he had brought
from the last settlement, would rarely suffice until he reached the
foot of the mountains; and even when obtainable the price was so
exorbitant that but few of the early adventurers could indulge in
such luxuries.
The first trading-post was established at the mouth of Clear Creek,
in 1832, by Louis Vasquez, and named Fort Vasquez, after its
proprietor, but never grew into much importance and was soon abandoned.
Fort Laramie, one of the most celebrated rendezvous of the trappers,
was erected in 1834, by William Sublette and Robert Campbell of
St. Louis, agents of the American Fur Company. It was first called
Fort William, in honour of Sublette; later Fort John, and finally
christened Fort Laramie, after the river which took its name from
Joseph Laramie, a French-Canadian trapper of the earliest fur-hunting
period, who was murdered by the Indians near the mouth of the river.
It was located in the immediate region of the Ogallalla and Brule
bands of the great Sioux nation, and not very remote from that of
the Cheyennes and Arapahoes.
In 1835 the fort was sold to Milton Sublette, Jim Bridger, and others
of the American Fur Company, and the year following was by them
rebuilt at a cost of ten thousand dollars. It remained a private
establishment until 1849, the year of the discovery of gold in
California, when the government bought and transformed it into
a military post, to awe the savages who infested the trail to the
Pacific, which had then become the great highway of the immense
exodus from the Eastern states to the gold regions of that coast.
The original structure was built in the usual style of all Indian
trading-stations of that day, of adobes, or sun-dried bricks. It was
enclosed by walls twenty feet high and four feet thick, encompassing
an area two hundred and fifty feet long by two hundred wide. At the
diagonal northwest and southwest corners, adobe bastions were erected,
commanding every approach to the place.
The number of buildings were twelve in all: there were five
sleeping-rooms, kitchen, warehouse, icehouse, meat-house, blacksmith
shop, and carpenter shop. The enclosed corral had a capacity for
two hundred animals. The corral was separated from the buildings by
a partition, and the area in which the buildings were located was
a square, while the corral was a rectangle, into which, at night,
the horses and mules were secured. In the daytime, too, when the
presence of Indians indicated danger of the animals being stolen,
they were run into the enclosure.
The roofs of the buildings within the square were close against
the walls of the fort, and in case of necessity could be utilized
as a banquette from which to repulse any attack of the savages.
The main entrance to the enclosure had two gates, with an arched
passage intervening. A small window opened from an adjoining room
into this passage, so that when the gates were closed and barred
any one might still hold communication, through this narrow aperture,
with those within. Suspicious characters, especially the savages,
could do their trading without the necessity of being admitted into
the fort proper. At times when danger was apprehended from an attack
by the Indians, the gates were kept shut and all business transacted
through the window.
About thirty men were usually employed at Fort Laramie when the trade
was at its height, as that station monopolized nearly the entire
Indian trade of the whole region tributary to it. There the famous
frontiersmen, Kit Carson, Jim Bridger, Jim Baker, Jim Beckwourth,
and others, who in those remote times constituted the pioneers of
the primitive civilization of the country, made their headquarters.
The officials of the fur companies stationed at Fort Laramie ruled
with an absolute authority. They were as potent in their sway as
the veriest despot, for they had no one to dispute their right to
lord it over all. The nearest army outposts were seven hundred miles
to the east, and, like the viceroys of Spain after the conquest
of Mexico, they were a law unto themselves.
In its palmy days Fort Laramie swarmed with women and children,
whose language, like their complexions, was much mixed. All lived
almost exclusively on buffalo meat dried in the sun, and their
hunters had to go sometimes fifty miles to find a herd of buffaloes.
After a while there were a few domestic cattle introduced, and the
conditions changed somewhat.
No military frontier post in the United States was so beautifully
located as Fort Laramie. Surrounded by big bluffs at the intersection
of the Laramie and Platte rivers, forming a valley unsurpassed in
the fertility of its soil, together with the richness of its natural
vegetation, it was an oasis in the desert. The glory of the once
charming place has departed forever. It was abandoned by the
government a few years ago, as it was no longer a military necessity,
the savage tribes which it watched having either become tame or
removed to far-off reservations.
In 1826 Jim Bridger joined General Ashley's trapping expedition, and
eleven years afterward, in 1837, built Fort Bridger, for a long time
one of the most famous of the trading-posts. It was located on
the Black Fork of Green River[14] where that stream branched into
three principal channels, forming several large islands, upon one of
which the fort was erected. It was constructed of two adjoining
log houses, with sod roofs, enclosed by a fence of pickets eight feet
high, and, as was usual, the offices and sleeping-apartments opened
into a square, protected from attacks by the Indians by a massive
timber gate. Into the corral all the animals were driven at night
to guard them from being stolen, or devoured by wild beasts.
The fort was inhabited by about fifty whites, Indians, and half-breeds.
The fort was the joint property of Bridger and Vasquez. Upon the
Mormon occupation of the region the owners were obliged to abandon it,
on account of disagreements with that sect, in 1853.
Fort Platte, another trading-post belonging to the American Fur
Company, was situated about three-fourths of a mile above the mouth
of the Laramie River, on the left bank of the North Platte, and
constructed in the same general way described in the preceding
paragraphs. As it is naturally to be supposed, there existed always
a desperate rivalry between the two forts. Some of the scenes enacted
there long ago are full of blood-curdling adventure and reckless
indifference to the preservation of life. The following is a true
picture of one of the annual gatherings of the Indian trappers who
came there to dispose of their season's furs, more than fifty
years ago:—
The night of our arrival at Fort Platte was the signal for a
grand jollification by all hands, with two or three exceptions,
who soon got most gloriously drunk, and such an illustration
of the beauties of harmony as was then presented would have
rivalled Bedlam itself, or even the famous council-chamber
beyond the Styx.
Yelling, screeching, firing, fighting, swearing, drinking,
and such like interesting performances were kept up without
intermission—and woe to the poor fellow who looked for repose
that night. He might have as well thought of sleeping with
a thousand cannons booming at his ears.
The scene was prolonged till sundown the next day, and several
made their egress from this beastly carousal minus shirts and
coats, with swollen eyes, bloody noses, and empty pockets
—the latter circumstance will be understood upon the mere
mention of the fact that liquor was sold for four dollars
a pint!
The day following was ushered in by the enactment of another
scene of comico-tragical character.
The Indians camped in the vicinity, being extremely solicitous
to imitate the example of their illustrious predecessors,
commenced their demands for fire-water as soon as the first
tints of morning began to paint the east; and, before the sun
had told an hour of his course, they were pretty well advanced
in the state of “How come you so?” and seemed to exercise
their musical powers in wonderful rivalry with their white
brethren.
Men, women, and children were seen running from lodge to lodge
with vessels of liquor, inviting their friends and relatives
to drink; while whooping, singing, drunkenness, and trading
for fresh supplies to administer to the demands of
intoxication had evidently become the order of the day.
Soon individuals were seen passing from one another, with
mouths full of the coveted fire-water, drawing the lips of
favoured friends to close contact, as if to kiss, and ejecting
the contents of their own into the eager mouths of others
—thus affording the delighted recipients tests of fervent
esteem in the heat and strength of their strange draught.
At this stage of the game the American Fur Company, as was
charged, commenced to deal out to them gratuitously, strong
drugged liquor for the double purpose of preventing the sale
of the article by its competitor in trade, and of creating
sickness, or inciting contention among the Indians while
under the influence of sudden intoxication, hoping thereby
to induce the latter to charge its ill effects upon an
opposite source, and thus by destroying the credit of its
rival to monopolize the whole trade.
It is hard to predict with certainty what would have been
the result of this reckless policy, had it been continued
through the day. Already its effects became apparent, and
small knots of drunken Indians were seen in various directions,
quarreling, preparing to fight, or fighting, while others
lay stretched upon the ground in helpless impotency, or
staggered from place to place with all the revolting
attendants of intoxication.
The drama, however, was brought to a temporary close by an
incident which made a strange contrast in its immediate
results.
One of the head chiefs of the Brule village, in riding at full
speed from Fort John to Fort Platte, being a little too drunk
to navigate, plunged headlong from his horse, and broke his
neck when within a few rods of his destination. Then was
a touching display of confusion and excitement. Men and
squaws commenced squalling like children—the whites were bad,
very bad, said they, in their grief, to give Susu-Ceicha
the fire-water that caused his death. But the height of
their censure was directed against the American Fur Company,
as its liquor had done the deed.
The corpse of the deceased chief was brought to the fort by
his relatives with a request that the whites should assist
at his burial; but they were in a sorry plight for such
a service. There were found some sufficiently sober for the
task, however, and they accordingly commenced operations.
A scaffold was erected for the reception of the body, which,
in the meantime, had been fitted for its last airy tenement.
The duty was performed in the following manner: It was first
washed, then arrayed in the habiliments last worn by the
deceased during life, and sewed in several envelopes of
lodge-skin with his bows and arrows and pipe. This done,
all things were ready for the proposed burial.
The corpse was borne to its final resting-place, followed by
a throng of relatives and friends. While moving onward with
the dead, the train of mourners filled the air with
lamentations and rehearsals of the virtues and meritorious
deeds of their late chief.
Arrived at the scaffold, the corpse was carefully reposed
upon it facing the east, while beneath its head was placed
a small sack of meat, tobacco, and vermilion, with a comb,
looking-glass, and knife, and at its feet a small banner that
had been carried in the procession. A covering of scarlet
cloth was then spread over it, and the body firmly lashed
to its place by long strips of rawhide. This done, the horse
of the chieftain was produced as a sacrifice for the benefit
of his master in his long journey to the celestial
hunting-grounds.
Then first, encircling it at a respectful distance, were
seated the old men, next the young men and the warriors, and
next the squaws and children. Etespa-huska (The Long Bow),
eldest son of the deceased, thereupon commenced speaking,
while the weeping throng ceased its tumult to listen to
his words.
“O Susu-Ceicha! thy son bemourns thee, even as were wont the
fledglings of the war-eagle to cry for the one that nourished
them, when thy swift arrow had laid him in the dust. Sorrow
fills the heart of Etespa-huska; sadness crushes it to the
ground and sinks it beneath the sod upon which he treads.
“Thou hast gone, O Susu-Ceicha! Death hath conquered thee,
whom none but death could conquer; and who shall now teach
thy son to be brave as thou wast brave; to be good as thou
wast good; to fight the foe of thy people and acquaint thy
chosen ones with the war-song of triumph; to deck his lodge
with the scalps of the slain, and bid the feet of the young
move swiftly in the dance? And who shall teach Etespa-huska
to follow the chase and plunge his arrows into the yielding
sides of the tired bull?”
Thus for half an hour did the young man tell of the virtues
and great deeds of his father, and the moment he had finished,
a tremendous howl of grief burst from the whole assemblage,
men, women, and children alike. When the wailing ceased
they all returned to their respective lodges.
The sad event of the day put a stop to the dissipation of
the savages, and not long afterward they commenced to pull
down their respective lodges, and removed to the neighbourhood
of the buffalo, for the purpose of selecting their winter
quarters.
Two weeks later a band of Brules arrived in the vicinity of
the fort and opened a brisk trade in liquor by indulging in
a drunken spree.
The savages crowded the fort houses seeking articles, and
soon became a terrible nuisance. One room in particular was
constantly thronged to the exclusion of its regular occupants,
when the latter, losing all patience with the savages, adopted
the following plan to get rid of them.
After closely covering the chimney, by the aid of some
half-rotten chips a dense smoke was raised, the doors and
windows being closed at the same time to prevent its escape,
and in an instant the apartment became filled to the point of
suffocation—too much so for the Indians, who gladly made
a precipitate retreat.
They were told it was the “Long-Knife Medicine.”[15] During
the visit of the savages at the fort, a warrior called
“Big Eagle” was struck over the head by a half-drunken trader,
an incident which came very near terminating seriously, but
fortunately did not. It might have ended in the massacre of
all the whites had not some of the more level-headed promptly
interfered and with much effort succeeded in pacifying the
enraged chief by presenting him with a horse.
At first the savage would admit of no compromise short of
the offender's blood. He had been struck by the white man,
and blood alone must atone for the aggression. Unless that
should wipe out the disgrace he could never again hold up his
head among his people—they would call him a coward, and say
a white man struck the Big Eagle and he dared not resent it.
An Indian considers it the greatest indignity to receive a blow from
any one, even from his own brother; and unless the affair is settled
by the bestowal of a trespass offering on the part of the aggressor,
he is almost sure to seek revenge, either through blood or the
destruction of property. This is more an especial characteristic
of the Sioux than of any other of the savage tribes.
The liquor-traffic was a most infamous one, as an abundance of facts
could prove.
In November, 1855, the American Fur Company, from Fort John, sent
a quantity of their drugged liquor to an Indian village on the
Chugwater, as a gift, for the purpose of preventing the sale of that
article by their competitors in trade. The consequence was that
the poor creatures all got beastly drunk, and a fight ensued, in which
two chiefs, Bull Bear and Yellow Lodge, and six of their personal
friends were murdered. Fourteen others who took part in the fracas
were badly wounded. Soon afterward another affair of the same
character occurred, and resulted in the death of three of the savages.
Many were killed in like quarrels in the several Indian villages.
The liquor used in this nefarious trade was generally third or
fourth proof whiskey, which, after being diluted by a mixture of
three parts water, was sold to the savages at the exorbitant rate of
three cups for a single buffalo-robe, each cup holding about three
gills. That was not all: sometimes the cup was not more than half
filled; then again the act of measuring was also a rascally
transaction, for when the poor savage became so drunk that he could
not see, he was cheated—more water was added, the unlucky purchaser
not receiving more than one-fourth of what he paid for. There were
still other modes of cheating poor Lo.
To further show how demoralizing the traffic was I will relate an
instance: “Old Bull Tail,” a chief of the Sioux, had an only daughter,
who was named Chint-zille. She was very handsome as savage beauty
goes, and the old chief really loved her, for the North American
Indian is possessed of as much devotion to his family as is to be
found in the most cultivated of the white race; but the old fellow
was inordinately fond of getting drunk, and at one time, not having
the wherewithal to procure the necessary liquor, made up his mind
that he would trade his daughter for a sufficient quantity.
One morning he entered the store of a trader, accompanied by
Chint-zille. The following dialogue took place:
“Bull Tail is welcome to the lodge of the Long-Knife; but why is his
daughter, the pride of his heart, bathed in tears? It pains me that
one so beautiful should weep.”
The old chief answered: “Chint-zille is a foolish girl. Her father
loves her, and therefore she cries.”
“There should be greater cause for grief than that.”
“The Long-Knife speaks well.”
“How then can she sorrow? Tell her to speak to me, that I may whisper
words of comfort in her ear.”
“I will tell you, Long-Knife: Bull Tail loves his daughter very much;
he loves Long-Knife very much! he loves them both very much.
The Great Spirit has put the thought into his mind that both alike
might be his children; then would his heart leap for joy at the
twice-spoken name of father!”
“I do not understand the meaning of Bull Tail's words.”
“Sure, Long-Knife, you are slow to understand! Bull Tail would give
his daughter to the Long-Knife. Does not Long-Knife love Chint-zille?”
“If I should say no, my tongue would lie; Long-Knife has no wife,
and who, like the lovely Chint-zille, is so worthy that he should
take her to his bosom? How can I show my gratitude to her noble
father?”
“The gift is free, and Bull Tail will be too glad in its acceptance,
his friends will all be glad with him. But that they may bless the
Long-Knife, let him fill up the hollow-wood[16] with fire-water, and
Bull Tail will take it to his lodge; then Chint-zille will be yours.”
“But Chint-zille grieves, she does not love the Long-Knife.”
“Chint-zille is foolish. Let the Long-Knife measure the fire-water,
and she shall be yours.”
“No, Long-Knife will not do this; Chint-zille should never be the
wife of the man she does not love.”
The old chief pleaded for a long time with the trader to take the
girl and give him the liquid, but the trader was inexorable; he would
not form any such tangling alliance, so the old chief failed to get
the liquor, and he left the house with mortification and shame
depicted on his withered face.