Northern Montana at the foot of the “Rockies,” not far from the Great
Northern railroad. He is still a prosperous farmer and stock raiser. He
is seventy-six years old, but hale and hearty. Although having roughed
it fifty-seven years in the “Rockies,” few men twenty years his junior
can keep up with him in climbing mountains and riding horseback. I do
not know of one white person who is as old a citizen of what is now the
State of Montana as Charles Choquette.
ROBERT VAUGHN.
Great Falls, Mont., Jan. 15, 1900.
A TRIP TO THE TWENTY-EIGHT-MILE SPRING STATION.
In the fall of 1872 I made a contract with Gov. Pollinger, the manager
of the Wells-Fargo stage line between Fort Benton and Helena, to
furnish firewood to the Leaving and the Twenty-Eight-Mile Spring
Stations. It was in the month of November that I delivered the wood to
the latter place. My teams were six yoke of oxen and two wagons coupled
together. The days were getting short, therefore I had to leave the
ranch very early in the morning to get through in one day, for the oxen
were very slow. Besides I had on the two wagons five cords of wood,
which made a heavy load, and I had to travel through unsettled country
all the way. I left home about two hours before daylight. The air was
cold and frosty; I was watching anxiously for the sun to rise. Before
long the eastern sky was colored by the beautiful Montana sunrise, soon
the top of the mountains was the color of gold, and by the time I was
crossing the first ridge the bright sunshine was at my feet. It was on
this morning that I first saw the sun, moon and stars at the same time,
for there was not a cloud in the sky. I stopped at the lakes for two
hours to rest and graze the cattle, and to eat my lunch; then I yoked
the oxen and started on my journey. After I had gone about two miles
I discovered some Indians peeping over a small hill and apparently
watching me, and as I came nearer they made their appearance for the
second time and made a rush for the road a few hundred yards ahead of
me. There were sixteen of them, all on foot; they had ropes and were
well armed with bow and arrows and five had guns; apparently they were
equipped for a horse-stealing expedition. Likely it was good for me
that I had cattle and not horses. One Indian started towards me. I
quickly got my gun ready and this one lifted up his hand and gave the
sign that they were good Indians. He came and met me and offered his
hand, at the same time saying, “Me good Indian,” I shook hands with
him, while at the same time I had my gun in the other hand. I did not
stop the oxen, but kept them going and at the same time speaking to
the Indian. He walked close to my side, and as we came to the other
Indians he ordered them one by one to shake hands with me; after we
got through shaking hands they all followed me. The first Indian still
kept walking close to my left, as the cattle were on my right. I became
suspicious of him that he might be waiting for an opportunity to grab
my gun, which I had in my right hand; I kept an eye on this Indian
and a firm grip on the gun. I had the whip in my other hand and now
and then made a ringing crack at the oxen, for then I could use the
“bull whip” to perfection. And as I was driving the oxen and calling
them by their names the other Indians were walking promiscuously, some
behind the wagons and others opposite to me and on the other side of
the cattle. They would repeat the names of the oxen after me. It was
not long before they knew the names of them all, especially Tom and
Jerry, the leaders, and would laugh every time I would speak the name
of the off wheeler, which was “Chief.” I could not get them to tell
why they were following me, but would make signs that they were going
to cross the Missouri river to the Crow country. Some of them inclined
to be ugly and spiteful, acting as if they wanted to make me angry.
At one time one of them came from behind and gave me a shove and then
ran; as he was getting away I gave him a crack with the whip; then the
others would laugh and wanted me to run after him, but I stayed with
the outfit, for I could see that they had some bad motive in view.
Already they had traveled five or six miles with me, and by this time
it was dark and I had several miles yet to go. It is true that I had
lots of company to make the time short, but somehow at that time of
the night, considering the complexion of my companions, I would rather
have been left alone with but the cattle. When on top of the hill two
miles from the station I stopped the oxen and told the Indians to get
on top of the loads, for the balance of the way was down grade; in an
instant they were on, and this was the first time that my left-hand
bower deserted me; he was the first one to get on. When I spoke to the
oxen and called on Tom and Jerry and the wagons began to move, all the
Indians began to sing, and they kept up the concert until I stopped to
unyoke the oxen at the station. It was fun for me to listen to their
singing. Some of them humming, others barked like a fox or wolf, but
they managed to keep good time and the chords were excellent; the ones
that were humming would be half an octave or an octave lower than the
barkers, or vice versa. I really enjoyed their singing as well they
enjoyed the ride. By the time I had the yokes off the cattle I could
not see an Indian. Now it was 9 o’clock and very dark, for the moon
was not yet up. I had to drive the oxen to a spring, which was about a
quarter of a mile off, for I knew they were very thirsty. In about half
an hour I was back and got my roll of bedding off the wagon and went
to the stable. Here I found the Indians peeping through the windows
and cracks to see if any one was in. The stableman was there alone;
the room where he cooked and slept joined the stable. He was scared
nearly to death, for he had not been there long and had not seen many
Indians; beside I was a stranger to him. It was some time before I
could persuade him to let me in to spread down my blankets. Dutch Jake,
the man who kept the station, was on the Teton, hunting buffaloes.
The Indians were hungry, tired and cold. I took them to an empty cabin
which was near by; the door was locked, but I took the window out. I
went in and the Indians after me. Inside of the cabin we found six
quarters of fresh buffalo meat with the hide on. The cabin had a good
fireplace, and they soon had a fire. I told them to take a quarter of
the meat; that it belonged to my friend, and that I would settle for
it. I went back to the stable; the hostler had hot coffee, good bread,
and plenty of fried buffalo steak for me, and I ate a hearty supper.
[Illustration: A FRONTIERSMAN IN HIS BUCKSKIN SUNDAY SUIT.]
After supper we both went to see how the Indians were getting along,
and they, too, were eating broiled buffalo meat and having a good time.
I got up very early the next morning, but the Indians were not to be
seen. Several years afterwards I met some of those Indians, and they
always remembered me.
ROBERT VAUGHN.
Jan. 28, 1898.
JOHN LARGENT’S EARLY DAYS IN MONTANA.
Friend Vaughn: As per your request I give you the following sketch of
my early days in what is now the State of Montana:
I hired out to the American Fur Company in the spring of 1862 at
St. Louis, Mo., to go to Fort Benton at the head of navigation on
the Missouri river. My pay was to be $19.50 per month, including
board. I had a friend and companion by the name of Thomas
Mitchell, who concluded to undergo the dangers and hardships of
the three-thousand-mile trip and go with me. We took passage on a
steamboat called the Spread Eagle and landed in Fort Benton ninety days
afterwards; and I assure you these days were not spent in picnicking.
The adventures had, the trials encountered, the hardships endured
cannot be detailed in the limited space alloted for this sketch. I
can only say that, while we took passage on the boat named above, it
did not carry us all the way to Fort Benton by any means; in fact,
the reverse happened; we tugged and carried it much of the distance.
We stayed in Fort Benton during the remainder of the summer. There
were no buildings in Benton at that time except the fort. Our time
was occupied principally in repairing adobe buildings about the post.
Andrew Dawson was chief in charge of affairs. Major Culbertson, who
held some interest in the company, and who, with his wife, had made
the trip from St. Louis with us, was here. About twenty-four white men
comprised the entire force at the fort, and, as far as I could learn,
it was fully half the white population of what is now known as Northern
Montana. Matters and things had changed very materially since I had
quit civilization in the “states,” but I soon adjusted myself to the
situation.
The Indian tribes who came here to trade were North Bloods, Mountain
Crows, Blackfeet and Piegans. Coffee and tea were sold to them at one
dollar per pint in trade; tobacco, five to eight dollars per pound.
Major George Steell, now so well known throughout Montana, and who was
for several years the agent at the Blackfeet Agency, was then one of
the trusted employes of the company. In the fall of 1862 he was sent
to the mouth of the Musselshell river to build and superintendent
afterwards a new trading post to be called Fort Andrews. Steell took me
with him and was the means of having my wages raised from the before
stated salary of $19.50 to $40 per month. I said Mr. Steell took me
with him; this is incorrect, inasmuch as he sent me and my friend
Mitchell overland with the horses while he himself and eight other
men went down the river in a Mackinaw boat, carrying the goods and
provisions. I remember the names of some of the men were as follows:
W. R. Teasdale (Col. Spikes), James Chambers, William Oliver, Unica and
John Wren; the three others I have forgotten.
In order that you may understand the hardships and privations endured
by Mitchell and myself on this overland trip I will state that we were
provided with a gun each. I had a muzzle-loading rifle; Mitchell had
an old flintlock. In the way of provisions we had a few hardtacks and
a small quantity of salt. There were no matches at that time to be had
here. In place of them we used “flint rock,” a piece of steel and gun
powder. We reached our destination after being out four days and five
nights. A detailed description of this trip would make an interesting
sketch, but let us pass on to scenes more familiar to me.
After arriving we at once went to work building the post and other
winter quarters. A house was first erected to live in, then a stockade
surrounding it. Our provisions and ammunition ran short during the
winter, and after that we subsisted partly on wolf meat; these animals
we caught with traps; other diet I think of now was corn. A lot of this
had been brought there to trade with the Indians; it was all disposed
of, but the mice had carried some of it into their burroughs. This we
found and dug out and ground it in a coffee mill into meal and made
bread of it. The mice had eaten the kernel or heart out of this corn
and it was strongly impregnated with mice pepper, but the bread fitted
pretty well in our hollow stomachs. The Indians were very troublesome,
and great care had to be taken to preserve our lives and property.
Much of my time was engaged as hunter to secure meat for the men at
the post. The post was enclosed with a stockade made of logs. At one
corner there was a large gate. From the time I would be sent out to
hunt, a man was placed on the outside of this gate to open it at once
in case I should be run in by the Indians. I have had some close calls
for my life on these occasions. One day I went out in the hills to
slay some buffaloes, for we needed meat. I saw a large herd feeding
and started to approach them when suddenly I heard and saw the whole
herd stampeding. I rode up on a hill to better view the situation. I
discovered that Indians were on both sides of me and buffaloes in front
of me, and all running towards me. I saw that my only chance for life
was to flee ahead of the buffaloes, and spurring my horse ahead of
them, I went. The Indians discovered my intentions and tried to head me
off, but by this time the herd had me surrounded and the Indians could
not reach me. Finally I reached a descending bluff that separated the
herd and over which myself and horse tumbled, but, again with myself
in the saddle and the horse on his feet I kept going, the dust that
was created had the effect of hiding me from view of the Indians long
enough to reach the fort and get behind the gate. The horse that I rode
on this occasion was the property of Charles Carson, one of the famous
Kit Carson’s family. Charles was killed some time afterwards by the
Indians at Dearborn river.
I had another close call for my life by the Indians while at this
fort. Bill Oliver (known as “Canada Bill”) and myself went out one day
to rustle for meat. Elk and deer were plentiful at that time. We had
reached a point ten miles from the fort, and were on the lookout for
game, also Indians. We saw Indians first and lost our interest in game.
The Indians were on foot and we could easily have escaped from them on
our horses, but Oliver mistook them for “friendlies” and would not run
away. The Indians were coming towards us, running and yelling, when I
said to Oliver “turn your horse and run!” He replied: “No, I shall not
do it; these are friendly Piegans.” I said: “Go to the devil, then; I
am going to get out of this sage brush.” I had an unbroken colt, and
when I tried to move him I found he would not leave Oliver’s horse.
I struck at him with a small hatchet I had in my hand at the time;
missing the horse my left hand caught the blow and it nearly severed
one of my fingers. The Indians soon reached us, but they proved to be
Bloods, a savage band, and out skirmishing for easy prey. Bill shook
hands with the red devils and said, “how! how!” but he was deceived,
for they were on the war path and we were in imminent danger of being
murdered by them at any moment. After taking my horse, gun and knife
they held council for a few minutes, during which time they kept
looking at me. I could understand by the signs they made that I was
considered to be an important capture, while my partner Bill was not in
it, so to speak. I well remember of ruminating on my chances of ever
again being set at liberty. I observed upon counting that there were
twenty-seven Indians of the party.
A movement forward was finally made. Three of the ugly devils had
gotten astride my colt, and two on Bill’s horse, he being allowed to
ride with them, while I was made to walk. The party marched single file
and kept me near the center of the column. My anxiety as to the object
of our capture was quieted somewhat when I discovered we were moving up
the river and towards the fort.
The Indians soon after got tired of packing my gun, fired the charge
out and made me pack it. Night soon came on and they camped near some
dead timber and made a series of fires in one grand circle and one in
the center. I was told that the center one was for me. I took a seat on
the ground, and to all outward appearances was at home; but there was
an inward awkward feeling that belied it. My friend Oliver was allowed
certain freedom to move about, but I was carefully guarded; however,
I was not roasted, as they threatened. During the evening no supper
was eaten; and I must confess I did not sleep very well that night.
The next morning an Indian brought me a small piece of raw meat and
gave me a pointed stick to reach out over the fire and cook my meat
on. My wounded finger was paining me some now, the excitement having
subsided somewhat. Soon after daylight we started on the move again,
the imps still keeping a close watch on me. During all this journey we
were heading towards the fort; this action was a query to me, and I
marveled much what it meant. We finally halted within about two miles
of the fort, and there I learned that I was being held for ransom, and
that the object in going there was to offer the American Fur Company
my freedom for a certain consideration. The Indians sent Oliver with
two of the party to the fort to state the terms, which were a quantity
of blankets, coffee, tea and tobacco. George Steell soon came out
and paid them what they asked and I was again at liberty. I thus
became indebted to the company for quite a sum of money, for it must
be remembered that these goods were very expensive here at that time.
However, I was glad to get back to the fort once more; but I was mad at
those Indians and have not yet forgiven them for the manner in which
they treated me.
A PECULIAR INCIDENT.
In connection with this story, and while held here in the hands of the
Indians, and about the time Steell arrived with my value in goods,
another white man was captured and brought into the Indian camp. This
man was none other than Nels Kies, the prospector, who is known to have
discovered and worked a gold mine somewhere in the lower country, and
but a short time after this occurrence, and who, to the disappointment
of many, was killed by the Indians before the location of his mines was
made known. Our honored citizen, John Leply, and others were interested
in this discovery, but on account of Kies being killed the mines never
have been found. It may be that the “Nels Kies lost mines” are in the
vicinity of Fort Andrews. Kies was allowed to go to the fort with us,
but remained only a short time when he departed alone, stating that he
was going to his camp.
We had a number of scraps with the Indians at this post. They came
in once ostensibly to trade, but in reality to clean us out. George
Steell, who was in the trading house, discovered their intentions and
calling the boys to arms checked them before they started to murder us.
At the time of which I speak the Gros Ventres and Mountain Crows
were at war with each other, and their battle grounds were near Fort
Andrews. In one battle fought here it was estimated that one-fourth of
the warriors on each side were killed. One morning, just at daylight,
an alarm was given, and someone shouted: “Hostile Indians in the
corral!” All rushed out at once and discovered a party of Indians and
one of them leading away my favorite saddle horse. I forced my way
forward and took hold of the rope attached to the animal’s neck and
made a sign to the Indian that I loved that horse and would not part
with him without trouble. He said that he was going to keep him and
motioned me to let go of the rope. I refused. He then strung his bow
and pointed the arrow at my breast. I still held on to the rope and
told him that he might kill me, for I would not give up my horse. He
then struck me in the breast with an arrow, cutting me quite freely, so
much so that I felt the blood running down my body. I then let go of
the rope, mentally resolved that if I ever got an opportunity I would
make a good Indian out of that fellow. He was killed about two years
after this by one of a party of white men out hunting for Crows.
A BEAR STORY.
My friend Mitchell, having made up his mind to return to his home in
Illinois, desired to kill a bear before leaving the West, and I was
very anxious that his wish should be gratified and sought every means
to aid him to get his bear. One morning a splendid opportunity came
for this. I discovered a bear passing down a trail close to the fort.
I hustled my friend outside the enclosure. A tree had fallen near the
trail mentioned, and to it I piloted Mitchell, who, while in hiding
there, was instructed to shoot the bear at close range and in a vital
part which I pointed out was directly behind the shoulder. Watching
Mitchell, I gave the word to fire and at the same time shot at the
bear myself, fearing his shot might not be a deadly one. The bear fell,
growling and roaring in the underbrush. I then asked Mitchell where he
hit him, and he said in the heart. I then proceeded to reload my gun
and requested him to do the same, and when he did so, he discovered his
gun cocked and still charged--he had not fired it off at all. I was
mortified over this because I wanted the boy to at least think he had
killed a bear and be able to tell the story when he arrived home. The
following sketch will show, however, that this was all useless, for he
never again met the loved ones at home:
About the first day of August, 1863, there came a Mackinaw boat down
the river from Fort Benton with a party composed of fourteen men, one
woman and her two children. These people had come overland from the
Frazier river mines, by the way of Bannock, and had in their possession
a considerable quantity of gold. At Benton they built their boat. The
party stayed with us for several days making some repairs. The men
built breastworks on the boat for protection against Indian attacks.
During this time the lady and her children stayed in the fort. My
friend Mitchell, who, as before mentioned, being homesick, determined
to return with the party. He used much persuasion to induce me to
return with him. The risk of losing one’s life in going or remaining
was equally great, and I chose to stay where I was. So we separated.
One bright morning they bade us good bye and the little craft started
on its long voyage down the Missouri river, with all on board jolly and
happy. Five days afterwards we received news of the massacre of the
entire party by the devilish Sioux Indians. It was never revealed to
the whites just how it was done. A half-breed Indian reported at Fort
Berthold the finding of the bodies horribly mutilated, the remains
of the men laying on a sand bar with their feet in the water; having
been placed there by the Indians; the woman was found hanging by the
chin, hooked on the limb of a tree, and the children, one on each
side of the mother, hanging the same way. The Indians apparently knew
nothing of the value of gold, for they had cut the buckskin sacks
containing it and strewn it all about the bar. Some of it was gathered
up by half-breeds and taken into Forts Randall and Berthold some time
afterwards.
Jerry Potts, a half-breed Indian, who lived and worked with us at Fort
Andrews, started out with a companion one day to go to Fort Gilpin, a
trading post at the mouth of Milk river. The Indians got after them and
they retreated and came back to the fort. Potts was carrying a powder
horn which was pierced by an arrow thrown by an Indian while they were
retreating, the horn saving him from being killed. Some time after this
we got orders from Fort Benton to move to this post and a boat was sent
to us to transport our goods down the Missouri river from Fort Andrews
to Fort Gilpin. I had orders to take charge of the boat and send our
horses overland in charge of two of the men. The boat crew was to be
provided with firearms, including a small cannon, which were to be used
in case of attack by foes. After we got the goods on board and ready to
start, I found that none of the men would take the horses on account
of the danger of being taken in by the Indians, so I was compelled to
make the overland trip myself. I selected Chambers to accompany me,
and Colonel Spikes to take charge of the boat crew and about seventeen
thousand dollars’ worth of goods, and he holloed “all aboard for
Gilpin,” and moved away. Chambers and myself soon after started for
the same point overland. We traveled mostly by night, under cover of
darkness, in order to avoid the Indians stealing our horses and killing
us.