five, on a Buffalo hunt, that is to say, the residue of us, Harris and
I, for Bell was away with Owen, and Squires with Provost after Bighorns,
and Sprague at Fort Mortimer. Tobacco and matches had been forgotten,
and that detained us for half an hour; but at last we started in good
order, with only one cart following us, which carried Pike and
Moncrevier. We saw, after we had travelled ten miles, some Buffalo
bulls; some alone, others in groups of four or five, a few Antelopes,
but more shy than ever before. I was surprised to see how careless the
bulls were of us, as some actually gave us chances to approach them
within a hundred yards, looking steadfastly, as if not caring a bit for
us. At last we saw one lying down immediately in our road, and
determined to give him a chance for his life. Mr. C. had a white horse,
a runaway, in which he placed a good deal of confidence; he mounted it,
and we looked after him. The bull did not start till Mr. C. was within a
hundred yards, and then at a gentle and slow gallop. The horse galloped
too, but only at the same rate. Mr. C. thrashed him until his hands were
sore, for he had no whip, the bull went off without even a shot being
fired, and the horse is now looked upon as forever disgraced. About two
miles farther another bull was observed lying down in our way, and it
was concluded to run him with the white horse, accompanied, however, by
Harris. The chase took place, and the bull was killed by Harris, but the
white horse is now scorned by every one. A few pieces of meat, the
tongue, tail, and head, were all that was taken from this very large
bull. We soon saw that the weather was becoming cloudy, and we were
anxious to reach a camping-place; but we continued to cross ranges of
hills, and hoped to see a large herd of Buffaloes. The weather was hot
"out of mind," and we continued till, reaching a fine hill, we saw in a
beautiful valley below us seventy to eighty head, feeding peacefully in
groups and singly, as might happen. The bulls were mixed in with the
cows, and we saw one or two calves. Many bulls were at various distances
from the main group, but as we advanced towards them they galloped off
and joined the others. When the chase began it was curious to see how
much swifter the cows were than the bulls, and how soon they divided
themselves into parties of seven or eight, exerting themselves to escape
from their murderous pursuers. All in vain, however; off went the guns
and down went the cows, or stood bleeding through the nose, mouth, or
bullet holes. Mr. C. killed three, and Harris one in about half an
hour. We had quite enough, and the slaughter was ended. We had driven up
to the nearest fallen cow, and approached close to her, and found that
she was not dead, but trying to rise to her feet. I cannot bear to see
an animal suffer unnecessarily, so begged one of the men to take my
knife and stab her to the heart, which was done. The animals were cut up
and skinned, with considerable fatigue. To skin bulls and cows and cut
up their bodies is no joke, even to such as are constantly in the habit
of doing it. Whilst Mr. Culbertson and the rest had gone to cut up
another at some distance, I remained on guard to save the meat from the
Wolves, but none came before my companions returned. We found the last
cow quite dead. As we were busy about her the rain fell in torrents, and
I found my blanket _capote_ of great service. It was now nearly sundown,
and we made up our minds to camp close by, although there was no water
for our horses, neither any wood. Harris and I began collecting
Buffalo-dung from all around, whilst the others attended to various
other affairs. The meat was all unloaded and spread on the ground, the
horses made fast, the fire burned freely, pieces of liver were soon
cooked and devoured, coffee drunk in abundance, and we went to rest.
_August 5, Saturday_. It rained in the night; but this morning the
weather was cool, wind at northwest, and cloudy, but not menacing rain.
We made through the road we had come yesterday, and on our way Harris
shot a young of the Swift Fox, which we could have caught alive had we
not been afraid of running into some hole. We saw only a few bulls and
Antelopes, and some Wolves. The white horse, which had gone out as a
_hunter_, returned as a _pack-horse_, loaded with the entire flesh of a
Buffalo cow; and our two mules drew three more and the heads of all
four. This morning at daylight, when we were called to drink our coffee,
there was a Buffalo feeding within twenty steps of our tent, and it
moved slowly towards the hills as we busied ourselves making
preparations for our departure. We reached the fort at noon; Squires,
Provost, and La Fleur had returned; they had wounded a Bighorn, but had
lost it. Owen and Bell returned this afternoon; they had seen no Cocks
of the plains, but brought the skin of a female Elk, a Porcupine, and a
young White-headed Eagle. Provost tells me that Buffaloes become so very
poor during hard winters, when the snows cover the ground to the depth
of two or three feet, that they lose their hair, become covered with
scabs, on which the Magpies feed, and the poor beasts die by hundreds.
One can hardly conceive how it happens, notwithstanding these many
deaths and the immense numbers that are murdered almost daily on these
boundless wastes called prairies, besides the hosts that are drowned in
the freshets, and the hundreds of young calves who die in early spring,
so many are yet to be found. Daily we see so many that we hardly notice
them more than the cattle in our pastures about our homes. But this
cannot last; even now there is a perceptible difference in the size of
the herds, and before many years the Buffalo, like the Great Auk, will
have disappeared; surely this should not be permitted. Bell has been
relating his adventures, our boat is going on, and I wish I had a couple
of Bighorns. God bless you all.
_August 6, Sunday._ I very nearly lost the skin of the Swift Fox, for
Harris supposed the animal rotten with the great heat, which caused it
to have an odor almost insupportable, and threw it on the roof of the
gallery. Bell was so tired he did not look at it, so I took it down,
skinned it, and with the assistance of Squires put the coat into pickle,
where I daresay it will keep well enough. The weather is thick, and
looks like a thunderstorm. Bell, having awaked refreshed by his night's
rest, has given me the measurements of the Elk and the Porcupine.
Provost has put the skin of the former in pickle, and has gone to Fort
Mortimer to see Boucherville and others, to try if they would go after
Bighorn to-morrow morning. This afternoon we had an arrival of Indians,
the same who were here about two weeks ago. They had been to Fort Clark,
and report that a battle had taken place between the Crees and Gros
Ventres, and that the latter had lost. Antelopes often die from the
severity of the winter weather, and are found dead and shockingly poor,
even in the immediate vicinity of the forts. These animals are caught in
pens in the manner of Buffaloes, and are despatched with clubs,
principally by the squaws. In 1840, during the winter, and when the snow
was deep on the prairies and in the ravines by having drifted there, Mr.
Laidlow, then at Fort Union, caught four Antelopes by following them on
horseback and forcing them into these drifts, which were in places ten
or twelve feet deep. They were brought home on a sleigh, and let loose
about the rooms. They were so very gentle that they permitted the
children to handle them, although being loose they could have kept from
them. They were removed to the carpenter's shop, and there one broke its
neck by leaping over a turning-lathe. The others were all killed in some
such way, for they became very wild, and jumped, kicked, etc., till all
were dead. Very young Buffaloes have been caught in the same way, by the
same gentleman, assisted by Le Brun and four Indians, and thirteen of
these he took down the river, when they became somewhat tamed. The
Antelopes cannot be tamed except when caught young, and then they can
rarely be raised. Mr. Wm. Sublette, of St. Louis, had one however, a
female, which grew to maturity, and was so gentle that it would go all
over his house, mounting and descending steps, and even going on the
roof of the house. It was alive when I first reached St. Louis, but I
was not aware of it, and before I left, it was killed by an Elk
belonging to the same gentleman. Provost returned, and said that
Boucherville would go with him and La Fleur to-morrow morning early,
_but I doubt it_.
_August 7, Monday._ Provost, Bell, and La Fleur started after breakfast,
having waited nearly four hours for Boucherville. They left at seven,
and the Indians were curious to know where they were bound, and looked
at them with more interest than we all liked. At about nine, we saw
Boucherville, accompanied by five men, all mounted, and they were
surprised that Provost had not waited for them, or rather that he had
left so early. I gave them a bottle of whiskey, and they started under
the whip, and must have overtaken the first party in about two hours.
To-day has been warmer than any day we have had for two weeks. Sprague
has been collecting seeds, and Harris and I searching for stones with
impressions of leaves and fern; we found several. Mr. Denig says the
Assiniboins killed a Black Bear on White Earth River, about sixty miles
from the mouth; they are occasionally killed there, but it is a rare
occurrence. Mr. Denig saw the skin of a Bear at their camp last winter,
and a Raccoon was also killed on the Cheyenne River by the Sioux, who
knew not what to make of it. Mr. Culbertson has given me the following
account of a skirmish which took place at Fort McKenzie in the Blackfoot
country, which I copy from his manuscript.
"_August 28, 1834._ At the break of day we were aroused from our beds by
the report of an enemy being in sight. This unexpected news created
naturally a confusion among us all; never was a set of unfortunate
beings so surprised as we were. By the time that the alarm had spread
through the fort, we were surrounded by the enemy, who proved to be
Assiniboins, headed by the chief Gauche (the Antelope). The number, as
near as we could judge, was about four hundred. Their first attack was
upon a few lodges of Piegans, who were encamped at the fort. They also,
being taken by surprise, could not escape. We exerted ourselves,
however, to save as many as we could, by getting them into the fort. But
the foolish squaws, when they started from their lodges, each took a
load of old saddles and skins, which they threw in the door, and stopped
it so completely that they could not get in, and here the enemy
massacred several. In the mean time our men were firing with muskets and
shot-guns. Unfortunately for us, we could not use our cannon, as there
were a great many Piegans standing between us and the enemy; this
prevented us from firing a telling shot on them at once. The engagement
continued nearly an hour, when the enemy, finding their men drop very
fast, retreated to the bluffs, half a mile distant; there they stood
making signs for us to come on, and give them an equal chance on the
prairie. Although our force was much weaker than theirs, we determined
to give them a trial. At the same time we despatched an expert runner to
an encampment of Piegans for a reinforcement. We mounted our horses, and
proceeded to the field of battle, which was a perfect level, where there
was no chance to get behind a tree, or anything else, to keep off a
ball. We commenced our fire at two hundred yards, but soon lessened the
distance to one hundred. Here we kept up a constant fire for two hours,
when, our horses getting fatigued, we concluded to await the arrival of
our reinforcements. As yet none of us were killed or badly wounded, and
nothing lost but one horse, which was shot under one of our men named
Bourbon. Of the enemy we cannot tell how many were killed, for as fast
as they fell they were carried off the field. After the arrival of our
reinforcements, which consisted of one hundred and fifty mounted
Piegans, we charged and fought again for another two hours, and drove
them across the Maria River, where they took another stand; and here Mr.
Mitchell's horse was shot under him and he was wounded. In this
engagement the enemy had a decided advantage over us, as they were
concealed in the bushes, while we were in the open prairie. However, we
succeeded in making them retreat from this place back on to a high
prairie, but they suddenly rushed upon us and compelled us to retreat
across the Maria. Then they had us in their power; but for some reason,
either lack of courage or knowledge, they did not avail themselves of
their opportunity. They could have killed a great many of us when we
rushed into the water, which was almost deep enough to swim our horses;
they were close upon us, but we succeeded in crossing before they fired.
This foolish move came near being attended with fatal consequences,
which we were aware of, but our efforts to stop it were unsuccessful.
We, however, did not retreat far before we turned upon them again, with
the determination of driving them to the mountains, in which we
succeeded. By this time it was so dark that we could see no more, and we
concluded to return. During the day we lost seven killed, and twenty
wounded. Two of our dead the enemy had scalped. It is impossible to tell
how many of the enemy were killed, but their loss must have been much
greater than ours, as they had little ammunition, and at the last none.
Our Indians took two bodies and burned them, after scalping them. The
Indians who were with us in this skirmish deserve but little credit for
their bravery, for in every close engagement the whites, who were
comparatively few, always were in advance of them. This, however, had
one good effect, for it removed the idea they had of our being cowards,
and made them believe we were unusually brave. Had it not been for the
assistance we gave the Piegans they would have been cut off, for I never
saw Indians behave more bravely than the enemy this day; and had they
been well supplied with powder and ball they would have done much more
execution. But necessity compelled them to spare their ammunition, as
they had come a long way, and they must save enough to enable them to
return home. And on our side had we been positive they were enemies,
even after they had surprised us in the manner they did, we could have
killed many of them at first, but thinking that they were a band of
Indians coming with this ceremony to trade (which is not uncommon) we
did not fire upon them till the balls and arrows came whistling about
our heads; then only was the word given, 'Fire!' Had they been bold
enough at the onset to have rushed into the fort, we could have done
nothing but suffer death under their tomahawks."
Mr. Denig gave me the following "Bear Story," as he heard it from the
parties concerned: "In the year 1835 two men set out from a trading-post
at the head of the Cheyenne, and in the neighborhood of the Black Hills,
to trap Beaver; their names were Michel Carriere and Bernard Le Brun.
Carriere was a man about seventy years old, and had passed most of his
life in the Indian country, in this dangerous occupation of trapping.
One evening as they were setting their traps along the banks of a stream
tributary to the Cheyenne, somewhat wooded by bushes and cottonwood
trees, their ears were suddenly saluted by a growl, and in a moment a
large she Bear rushed upon them. Le Brun, being a young and active man,
immediately picked up his gun, and shot the Bear through the bowels.
Carriere also fired, but missed. The Bear then pursued them, but as they
ran for their lives, their legs did them good service; they escaped
through the bushes, and the Bear lost sight of them. They had concluded
the Bear had given up the chase, and were again engaged in setting their
traps, when Carriere, who was a short distance from Le Brun, went
through a small thicket with a trap and came directly in front of the
huge, wounded beast, which, with one spring, bounded upon him and tore
him in an awful manner. With one stroke of the paw on his face and
forehead he cut his nose in two, and one of the claws reached inward
nearly to the brain at the root of the nose; the same stroke tore out
his right eye and most of the flesh from that side of his face. His arm
and side were _literally torn to pieces_, and the Bear, after handling
him in this gentle manner for two or three minutes, threw him upwards
about six feet, when he lodged, to all appearance dead, in the fork of a
tree. Le Brun, hearing the noise, ran to his assistance, and again shot
the Bear and killed it. He then brought what he at first thought was the
dead body of his friend to the ground. Little appearance of a human
being was left to the poor man, but Le Brun found life was not wholly
extinct. He made a _travaille_ and carried him by short stages to the
nearest trading-post, where the wounded man slowly recovered, but was,
of course, the most mutilated-looking being imaginable. Carriere, in
telling the story, says that he fully believes it to have been the Holy
Virgin that lifted him up and placed him in the fork of the tree, and
thus preserved his life. The Bear is stated to have been as large as a
common ox, and must have weighed, therefore, not far from 1500 lbs." Mr.
Denig adds that he saw the man about a year after the accident, and some
of the wounds were, even then, not healed. Carriere fully recovered,
however, lived a few years, and was killed by the Blackfeet near Fort
Union.
When Bell was fixing his traps on his horse this morning, I was amused
to see Provost and La Fleur laughing outright at him, as he first put on
a Buffalo robe under his saddle, a blanket over it, and over that his
mosquito bar and his rain protector. These old hunters could not
understand why he needed all these things to be comfortable; then,
besides, he took a sack of ship-biscuit. Provost took only an old
blanket, a few pounds of dried meat, and his tin cup, and rode off in
his shirt and dirty breeches. La Fleur was worse off still, for he took
no blanket, and said he could borrow Provost's tin cup; but he, being a
most temperate man, carried the bottle of whiskey to mix with the
brackish water found in the Mauvaises Terres, among which they have to
travel till their return. Harris and I contemplated going to a quarry
from which the stones of the powder magazine were brought, but it
became too late for us to start in time to see much, and the wrong
horses were brought us, being both _runners_; we went, however, across
the river after Rabbits. Harris killed a Red-cheeked Woodpecker and shot
at a Rabbit, which he missed. We had a sort of show by Moncrevier which
was funny, and well performed; he has much versatility, great powers of
mimicry, and is a far better actor than many who have made names for
themselves in that line. Jean Baptiste told me the following: "About
twelve years ago when Mr. McKenzie was the superintendent of this fort,
at the season when green peas were plenty and good, Baptiste was sent to
the garden about half a mile off, to gather a quantity. He was occupied
doing this, when, at the end of a row, to his astonishment, he saw a
very large Bear gathering peas also. Baptiste dropped his tin bucket,
ran back to the fort as fast as possible, and told Mr. McKenzie, who
immediately summoned several other men with guns; they mounted their
horses, rode off, and killed the Bear; but, alas! Mr. Bruin had emptied
the bucket of peas."
_August 8, Tuesday._ Another sultry day. Immediately after breakfast Mr.
Larpenteur drove Harris and myself in search of geological specimens,
but we found none worth having. We killed a _Spermophilus hoodii_,
which, although fatally wounded, entered its hole, and Harris had to
draw it out by the hind legs. We saw a family of Rock Wrens, and killed
four of them. I killed two at one shot; one of the others must have gone
in a hole, for though we saw it fall we could not find it. Another,
after being shot, found its way under a flat stone, and was there picked
up, quite dead, Mr. Larpenteur accidentally turning the stone up. We saw
signs of Antelopes and of Hares (Townsend), and rolled a large rock from
the top of a high hill. The notes of the Rock Wren are a prolonged
cree-e-e-e. On our return home we heard that Boucherville and his five
hunters had returned with nothing for me, and they had not met Bell and
his companions. We were told also that a few minutes after our departure
the roarings and bellowings of Buffalo were heard across the river, and
that Owen and two men had been despatched with a cart to kill three fat
cows but _no more_; so my remonstrances about useless slaughter have not
been wholly unheeded. Harris was sorry he had missed going, and so was
I, as both of us could have done so. The milk of the Buffalo cow is
truly good and finely tasted, but the bag is never large as in our
common cattle, and this is probably a provision of nature to render the
cows more capable to run off, and escape from their pursuers. Bell,
Provost, and La Fleur returned just before dinner; they had seen no
Bighorns, and only brought the flesh of two Deer killed by La Fleur, and
a young Magpie. This afternoon Provost skinned a calf that was found by
one of the cows that Owen killed; it was _very_ young, only a few hours
old, but large, and I have taken its measurements. It is looked upon as
a phenomenon, as no Buffalo cow calves at this season. The calving time
is from about the 1st of February to the last of May. Owen went six
miles from the fort before he saw the cattle; there were more than three
hundred in number, and Harris and I regretted the more we had not gone,
but had been fruitlessly hunting for stones. It is curious that while
Harris was searching for Rabbits early this morning, he heard the
bellowing of the bulls, and thought first it was the growling of a
Grizzly Bear, and then that it was the fort bulls, so he mentioned it to
no one. To-morrow evening La Fleur and two men will go after Bighorns
again, and they are not to return before they have killed one male, at
least. This evening we went a-fishing across the river, and caught ten
good catfish of the upper Missouri species, the sweetest and best fish
of the sort that I have eaten in any part of the country. Our boat is
going on well, and looks pretty to boot. Her name will be the "Union,"
in consequence of the united exertions of my companions to do all that
could be done, on this costly expedition. The young Buffaloes now about
the fort have begun shedding their red coats, the latter-colored hair
dropping off in patches about the size of the palm of my hand, and the
new hair is dark brownish black.
_August 9, Wednesday._ The weather is cool and we are looking for rain.
Squires, Provost, and La Fleur went off this morning after an early
breakfast, across the river for Bighorns with orders not to return
without some of these wild animals, which reside in the most
inaccessible portions of the broken and lofty clay hills and stones that
exist in this region of the country; they never resort to the low lands
except when moving from one spot to another; they swim rivers well, as
do Antelopes. I have scarcely done anything but write this day, and my
memorandum books are now crowded with sketches, measurements, and
descriptions. We have nine Indians, all Assiniboins, among whom _five_
are chiefs. These nine Indians fed for three days on the flesh of only a
single Swan; they saw no Buffaloes, though they report large herds about
their village, fully two hundred miles from here. This evening I caught
about one dozen catfish, and shot a _Spermophilus hoodii_, an old
female, which had her pouches distended and filled with the seeds of the
wild sunflower of this region. I am going to follow one of their holes
and describe the same.