before sundown, while lying around camp resting from the fatigues of
the day, we were startled by hearing several guns fired from a clump
of cottonwoods across the river, and immediately afterwards we saw
about thirty Indians fording across. They came on a run, vociferating
‘How-dye-do,’ and ‘Up-sar-o-ka,’ which latter means ‘Crow Indians,’
in their language. By the time they were fairly in camp we had our
horses all tied up, and every man prepared for emergencies. They first
inquired who was our captain. I told them, and asked which was their
captain. They showed me three, one big and two little ones. The large
chief told me to have my men put all our things in the tents, and keep
a sharp lookout or we would lose them. I then gave him a small piece
of tobacco to have a grand smoke, and I also found that one of them, a
very large man with a big belly, could talk the Snake Indian language,
and he was at once installed as interpreter. They (the interpreter and
chiefs) sat down in a circle and requested the pleasure of my company.
I accepted the invitation, and our party soon stood guard over our
horses. Meanwhile the other Indians began disputing with each other
about who should have our best horses. I requested the chief to make
them come from among the horses and behave themselves, which he did.
At eight p. m. I put on double guard, and at ten p. m. all except the
guard retired to rest. The Indians wandered around camp all night,
like evil spirits; and such an odd night’s sleep as we had! Every
few minutes somebody would have to rush out of his tent and capture
something which the Indians would steal from under the tents, in spite
of the guard, and this, too, when it was bright moonlight. At daylight
I aroused the party, and we proceeded to ascertain our losses; each had
lost something. As soon as we began to pack up they at once proceeded
to forcibly trade horses, blankets, etc., and to appropriate everything
they wanted. I saw that the time had come to do or die; therefore I
ordered every man to be ready to open fire on them when I gave the
signal. With one handful of cartridges and my rifle in the other, I
told the Indians to mount their horses and go to their camp. They
weakened, mounted their horses and left. Two of the chiefs, however,
very politely requested to accompany us, which we refused, but they
came along. After the Indians fed on the fragments of the breakfast,
the chiefs and five others offered their robes, which we refused, I
saying to keep them until we met again. After breakfast they went back
and we traveled on down the river. After sundown we saw two Indians.
“April 29.--Started at sunrise accompanied by the two chiefs and six
others. One of them had a letter from Agent Schoonover of Fort Union,
which stated that the bearer was ‘Red Bear,’ one of the principal
chiefs of the Crow nation. We gave them some supper, etc. He then
presented me with a black horse; said he was all right; friend of ours,
etc. Had a long talk with him, in the course of which he asked about
old Jim Bridger, and also Peter Martin, desiring to know where they
were and why they never came to see the Crows. The other Crows had told
me that the Sioux had attacked the Fur Company’s express boat from Fort
Benton, near Fort Union, and some said they had taken it, and others
said they had killed some of the crew, but had not captured the boat.
I asked Red Bear if it was so, and he replied that a rumor to that
effect was current among the tribes, but he did not know whether it
was true or not. When we retired to rest I gave orders to the guards
not to kill, but take prisoners, any Indians which they might discover
prowling around after our horses, and sure enough, about eleven p. m.
they discovered one crawling up to two of our best horses that were
tied to the same tree. They watched and waited until they got dead
wood on him, and then captured him and called me up. I introduced him
to Red Bear as one of his good Indians, who, he had just been telling
me, would not annoy us any more, as he had told him not to, etc. He
said the man was crazy and had no ears, etc. The old story, anything to
excuse him. We had already had a practical illustration that stealing
or attempting to steal is far from being considered a crime by even
the best of them. We turned the thief loose, and early in the morning
they all started back, leaving us alone in our glory. Traveled eighteen
miles.
“April 30th.--Traveled all day down a valley between terraced table
lands and buttes; valley about eight miles wide; snowy range to the
west about eighty miles distant; no other snowy mountains in sight;
low, open country around base of mountains. Camped three miles below
the mouth of a large stream coming in on the south side; suppose it
to be Clark’s Fork. I accepted Red Bear’s black horse last night and
presented him my white mare in return. I thought at the time I had a
little the best of it, but I found, during the day’s travel, that I was
mistaken. We are so far away from any high mountains that all the party
feel discouraged and lonesome. Give me the mountains in preference to
plains, where one can see more level ground than he can ride over in a
day. The ground is literally covered with young crickets. Between them
and the grasshoppers I am afraid the grass will soon be used up. Course
of river, six degrees north of east. Traveled fifteen miles.
“Friday, May 1, 1863.--About one o’clock last night Bostwick had his
roan horse stolen while he and Greery were on guard. It was taken
by two Indians, one of whom showed himself, but not plain enough to
shoot at; while the guards were both watching to get a shot at him,
his companion crawled into the other end of the camp and cut the horse
loose and got away with him without attracting their attention; and
this, too, when the moon was nearly at the full and without a cloud.
Verily, the Crows are world-beaters, and words cannot do the subject
justice. Fortunately, Bostwick was on guard himself, so he cannot
charge anybody with carelessness. Course of river nearly northeast.”
The summary of the journal for the next eleven days is as follows:
May 2d they saw large herds of buffalo and elk. May 3d they camped a
few miles from Pompey’s Pillar. Arriving at this natural monument,
they found the names of Captain Clarke and two of his men cut in the
rock with the date, July 25, 1806. There were also two other names
inscribed--Derick and Vancourt--dated May 23, 1834. On May 6th five
men were detailed to cross the Big Horn river and survey a townsite
and ranches, and another party of four was sent out prospecting for
gold. On this day James Stuart and four others engraved their names
on a sandstone up the river. On the 7th the party went up the west
bank of the Big Horn, traveling eighteen miles that day. On the 8th
they traveled fifteen miles through a desolate country. On the 9th the
remains of an Indian were found buried up a tree. On the 11th a party
of three white men was observed a little ways across the river; they
would neither answer nor halt. It proved afterwards that this party
were J. M. Bozeman and John M. Jacobs and his daughter, eight years
old. They were on their way from the Three Forks of the Missouri river
to Red Butte, on the North Platte river, and were then selecting a
route for a wagon road, which was afterwards located and known as the
“Jacobs and Bozeman cut-off.” This party had been chased by a party
of Indians a few days before, and when they saw the Stuart party they
at once mistook them for Indians. But two days afterwards they met
about eighty mounted Indians. Knowing that they would be plundered of
everything they had, if not murdered, Jacobs dropped his rifle and
ammunition into a bunch of sage brush. Sure enough, the Indians did
capture and stripped them of nearly everything they had and many were
for killing them on the spot, but, after holding a kind of council,
they let them go after giving them three miserable ponies for all
their horses; most of their clothing and what provisions they had were
taken away from them. They started off slowly until the Indians were
out of sight, then returned and got Jacob’s gun and ammunition, but,
unfortunately, there were but five bullets. Soon these were exhausted,
and when they got through to North Platte they were in a famishing
condition.
Again Mr. Stuart says: “May 13, 1863.--Last night Smith and I had the
first watch, and about eleven o’clock the horses at my end were scared
at something, but it was very dark and I could not see anything. I
thought it might be a wolf prowling around the camp. A few minutes
before eleven o’clock I sat up and lit a match to see what time it
was, and also to light my pipe, but at once lay down again; we were
both lying flat on the ground trying to see what made the horses so
uneasy, and to this we owe our lives. Just then I heard Smith whisper
that there was something around his part of the horse herd and a few
seconds later the Crows fired a terrible volley into the camp. I was
lying between two of my horses and both were killed and nearly fell on
me. Four horses were killed and five more wounded, while in the tents
two men were mortally, two badly, and three slightly wounded. Smith
shouted, ‘Oh, you scoundrels!’ and fired both barrels of his shotgun,
but, as far as we could tell next morning, without effect; he most
probably fired too high. I could not fire, for the horses were in the
way. I shouted for someone to tear down the tents to prevent their
affording a mark for the murderous Indians a second time. York rushed
out and tore them down in an instant. I then ordered all who were able
to take arms and crawl out from the tents a little way and lie flat on
the ground, and thus we lay until morning, expecting another attack
each instant and determined to sell our lives as dearly as possible.
When, at last, day dawned we could see a few Indians among the rocks
and pines on a hill some five or six hundred yards away watching to see
the result of their bloody work.
“An examination of the wounded presented a dreadful sight. C. D.
Watkins was shot in the right temple, and the ball came out at the
left cheek bone; the poor fellow was still breathing, but insensible.
E. Bostwick was shot in five different places--once in the back of the
shoulder, shattering the shoulder blade, but the ball did not come out
in front; three balls passed through the right thigh, all shattering
the bone, and one ball passed through the left thigh, which did not
break the bone; he was sensible, but suffering terrible agony. H.
A. Bell was shot twice--one ball entered at the lowest rib on the
left side and lodged just under the skin on the right side; the other
entered near the kidneys on the left side and came out near the thigh
joint. D. Underwood was shot once, but the ball made six holes; it
first passed through the left arm above the elbow, just missing the
bone, and then passed through both breasts, which were large and full,
just grazing the breast bone. H. T. Greery was wounded in the left
shoulder blade with an arrow, but not dangerously hurt. George Ives was
shot in the hip with a ball--a flesh wound; S. T. Hauser in the left
breast with a ball, which passed through a thick memorandum book in his
shirt pocket and lodged against a rib over his heart, the book saving
his life. Several others had one or more ball holes through their
clothes.”
Mr. Stuart continued his diary until they arrived at Bannock on June
22, 1863.
As the “Standard” man always camps on the trail of the pioneers, again,
November 5, 1899, he met John Vanderbilt, who was with the James Stuart
expedition of which I have spoke. During his conversation with the
“Standard” reporter, Mr. Vanderbilt consented to give an account of
that historical event. He said:
“We left Bannock on April 9, 1863. Our principal object was to explore
the Wind, Big Horn, and the Stinking rivers. We got down among the
Crows on the Yellowstone, when our troubles began. As we went into
camp they tried to rob us of this thing and that, whatever happened to
strike their fancy. We had a parley, but it did no good. They became
so desperate that we had to show we were ready for action. There were
probably thirty or forty Indians in the party, but they all gave in
after we showed fight. That was in the latter part of April. They put
down their bows and arrows and retreated. We immediately packed our
camp and moved on. They followed along some distance behind. It was
this band of Indians who turned back the Edgar and Fairweather party,
which was just one day behind us.
“After that trouble we followed on down the Yellowstone, keeping guard
at night. We frequently saw signs of the Indians, but had no more
trouble for a few days. We camped seven days at the mouth of the Big
Horn and laid out a townsite which we called Big Horn City. It still
bears that name. We merely took a survey and platted the town, but took
up no land. On May 3d we camped at Pompey’s Pillar, where we were much
interested in reading the inscription bearing the names of Captain
Clarke and two men, and the date, July 25, 1806.
“Then we started up the east side of the Big Horn river, crossed the
Little Horn and went further up as far as the canyon. That was probably
seventy-five miles from the mouth. On that night--the night of May 12th
to 13th--took place our great fight with the Indians.
“It was just about midnight when the Indians attacked us. Stuart and
Smith were on guard. They didn’t hear the Indians until they began
firing on us. They first fired one or two shots and then a volley.
Bostwick was the first one wounded. Then Watkins was shot through the
head. Bell was shot in the side. A ball went through Underwood’s arm
and into his breast. Another ball struck a memorandum book in Sam
Hauser’s pocket and glanced onto a rib, saving his life.
“After this attack the Indians withdrew. Stuart told us, however, to
lay low, as it is a common custom with Indians to attack again just
before daylight. Some of our men were groaning, and in the darkness we
could not tell the full extent of our casualties, nor could we tell at
what moment the attack might be renewed. It was, indeed, a terrible
night.
“Morning came without any further attack. Watkins died just about
daylight. We found that three or four of our horses had been killed.
Bostwick was badly wounded in the side. Bell was also severely injured.
We held a consultation. To remain meant the certain extermination of
the entire party. Yet we were reluctant to leave the wounded behind,
and it was impossible to take them along. Sometime before we had all
agreed that, in case we had a battle, each man would reserve one bullet
for himself, so that he could not be captured and tortured. It was also
agreed at that time if any were wounded he would not permit the others
to remain behind to help him, but would end his own existence. It was,
however, decided that if a man’s wound was not mortal the others were
to stay with him. It was decided that Captain Stuart should be sole
judge as to whether a man’s wound was mortal or not.
“That being the previous agreement, it was decided to wait until noon
to see how serious the wounds of Bostwick and Bell might be. It was
not considered possible to delay longer and save any of the party.
All the forenoon the Indians were in sight on the side of the canyon.
Stuart approached them and challenged them to come out and fight, but
they made no response. As noon approached Bostwick asked us to go on
and leave him, as he could not live long. We did not want to leave him
while life was left in his body. He then asked Greery for a revolver,
and at the last moment it was given him. He put the revolver up to his
head and killed himself.
“We started at noon, leaving all our camp except provisions, for eight
days. Bell said he couldn’t travel and didn’t want to kill himself,
so we left him on the ground. We got about a quarter of a mile away,
going toward the east, when we saw Bell motioning us to wait. We went
back, put him on a horse, and he kept along with us. He got through all
right.
“That same evening Greery accidentally shot himself with his rifle. We
made the practice of laying our guns in the same place. His rifle, as
he picked it up, became entangled in the sage brush, exploded and shot
him. After fifteen or twenty minutes he begged us to kill him, as he
said that he was suffering intensely and could not live. We refused,
however. Finally, when it was necessary for us to go on, we let him
have his revolver. He asked Stuart where the surest place for him to
shoot himself was situated, and Stuart told him in the ear. All bade
him good bye. I was the last to see him alive. I pleaded with him not
to, but he said he couldn’t live long anyway. I stood on a little
raise. He was behind it. He was very weak. He pulled the trigger, but
it didn’t go off. Then he pulled a second time and killed himself. We
dug a hole in the ground and buried him in his blanket. The Indians
were constantly in sight during this time.
“We then packed up and continued that long and terrible journey. We
traveled nights and rested part of the day. In that way the Indians
following our tracks would almost overtake us, but we would get ahead
again during the night. We suffered hardships that can never be told.
We took only eight days’ provisions along after the battle, and that
was soon consumed. One night we had nothing to eat. Then Stuart killed
an antelope. The next day we had nothing but a fawn two or three days
old, which made us all sick. After that we had plenty of buffalo meat,
and for eight or ten days we had nothing else, and only alkali water
to drink. For a long distance we traveled through snow two or three
feet deep and would sometimes sink down into pools of ice water. While
crossing the Big Horn range we were wet nearly all the time. We hadn’t
been able to buy boots or shoes at Bannock and had nothing on our feet
except moccasins. Crossing the Big Horn mountains we were guided by the
stars, changing our course a good deal.
“We struck the Wind river above the canyon and followed it up, going
in a southerly direction. Bell complained of pain all the time, so we
could only go at a walk. When we crossed the divide we saw emigrant
wagons on the road twelve miles away. Hauser felt so overjoyed he tied
his handkerchief to a stick and hurrahed. Then we traveled rapidly
along towards the road, which we soon reached. The emigrants thought we
were Indians; we were so black and dirty, and they came out to fight
us. We soon convinced them that we were all right. They let us have
flour, potatoes and everything we wanted. They didn’t want to charge
us, but we had plenty of money and so paid them for what we obtained.
We went on to Pacific Springs, on the California road, by the Snake
river to Bannock, which we reached sometime in June. We left Bell at
a soldiers’ station, where the bullet was extracted, and he remained
until he had recovered.”
Mr. Vanderbilt has made his home for several years past in New York
state, but recently he returned to this state, where he has met many of
his old-time friends. He says that the changes made in the “Rockies”
by “Then and Now” are great, but that the old mountains that he used
to climb in search of gold are the same; and that the high peaks that
reached to welcome him back to his old camping ground are the same
“now” as they were “then,” otherwise he would have thought that he was
still in the East.
ROBERT VAUGHN.
Nov. 14, 1899.
FROM ALDER GULCH TO LAST CHANCE.
Having remained in Alder gulch all summer working in the mines for Boon
and Vivian at ten dollars per day in gold dust, in December, 1864,
four of us made a bargain with a man who had two small Mexican mules
and an old spring wagon, to take us and our baggage to the new gold
mines called Last Chance (now Helena). It was understood that we were
to walk, and help the mules (or “Jerusalem ponies,” as one of the boys
called them) up the hills. The little animals were not over thirteen
hands high, and would weigh about 400 pounds each. We came down the
Prickly Pear creek, where now the Montana Central railway is. “Then”
there was no town of Clancy, nor a quartz mill nor a smelter on the
creek; not a sound could be heard there, except that of the pick of the
prospector on the mountains, hunting for gold. We kept on the trail
until we got to the new Eldorado, where several hundred miners were
at work; many were taking out gold in great quantities, others were
prospecting their claims.
Before going any further we will stop a minute and listen to “Now”
telling a short story in connection to the creek referred to. “A few
days ago I was invited to go to the roundhouse at this place to see two
new locomotives which had just arrived from the East. They were the
largest in weight and dimensions ever built in any country up to that
time, each weighing one hundred and fifty-four tons. Mr. Bruce, the
master mechanic at the railway shops, informed me that they were to run
on the Montana Central railway from Clancy, on Prickly Pear creek, and
over the Rocky Mountain divide. Although this is one of the heaviest
pulls in the country, the big engines each are to draw six hundred and
seventy tons. Several hundred passengers are drawn over this divide
every twenty-four hours, besides about seven thousand tons of freight,
principally coal from Cascade county to Butte and Anaconda, and copper
ore from the Butte mines to the copper smelters and refiners at the
falls of the Missouri river, near Great Falls, and lead and silver ores
to the East Helena smelter.
When looking at those two great locomotives I could not avoid thinking
of the contrast between them and the two Mexican mules, and of the
motive power on the old trail, and the motive power on the new. The
little mules were thirteen hands high and drew one thousand pounds;
each of the big locomotives is fifteen feet, or forty-five hands, high,
and draws six hundred and seventy tons. It is to me like a dream to
think of the great changes that have taken place since that time.
Then Helena was but a mining camp, consisting of but a few log cabins.
There is where I helped to run a drain ditch, commencing at Discovery
Claim, near where now stands the Montana Club building. We reached
bed rock in the upper end of the city. Among the gravel in this drain
ditch, about forty-five feet from the surface and near where the
Helena fire department building is, a mastodon tooth was found; it
was a grinder, three inches on top, six inches deep and eight inches
lengthwise; it was as perfect as it was when it came from the monster’s
mouth, when this northern country was a tropical region. In another
claim a tusk was found like that of an elephant. Many other remains of
animals have been found in mines and rock formations in the Rockies,
showing that the Rocky mountain region has, at one time, been the home
of animals that are not now in existence, at least not in the western
hemisphere. It is estimated that thirty millions of dollars have been
taken out of Last Chance gulch and its tributaries, and most of it from
where the streets of Helena now are.
[Illustration: From Painting by C. M. Russell.
A PRAIRIE SCHOONER CROSSING THE PLAINS.]
Miners’ wages were then ten dollars per day; common laborers seven
dollars. During the winter of 1865 eatables of all kinds were very
dear, except meat, for game was plentiful; flour sold for one hundred
and twenty-five dollars per one hundred pounds. “Then” my friend
Charley Cannon was an humble baker, and was selling dried apple pies
that were not sweetened, with crusts as thin as a wafer, for one dollar
a piece. “Now” he is an honored and respected citizen and one of the
wealthiest men in the state. “Now” Helena is a city of twelve thousand
inhabitants and the capital of the state. The capitol building is in
course of construction, and, when completed, will be one of the finest
in the West. Where the log cabins stood, handsome business blocks and
pleasant homes are everywhere visible.
Besides the Montana Central, which runs north and south and through
Helena, the transcontinental line of the Northern Pacific connects the
Atlantic and Pacific by extending east and west. Their freight and
passenger depots are located on the old mining claims, where husky
miners, in their overalls and flannel shirts, swung the picks and
tossed the shovels with their brawny arms and contributed thousands of
dollars to the world’s treasury. Today railroad conductors and other
officials are skipping over the same ground in broad cloth, with pen
and pencil behind ears that are braced up by high collars attached to
boiled shirts.
And so it goes--the miner, the mechanic, the herdsman and plowman, the
conductor, the railroad official and the man with the pencil, yes, the
tie ballaster and the newsboy, all are linked in the endless chain of
Western progress. And now a commerce is created which brings a revenue
to our government amounting to millions of dollars annually, besides
many millions more to the laborers and those who furnished the money
to carry on these industries and enterprises that are continually
developing and adding to the wealth of the nation.
Thus the wheel of progress has moved forward with tremendous speed
since my first arrival in Helena in 1864 with the man who had the two
“Jerusalem ponies.”
[Illustration: A SCENE IN THE CITY OF HELENA.]