1830. The furs collected by Jackson's company were cached on the Wind
River; and the cold still being very severe, and game scarce, the two
remaining leaders, Smith and Jackson, set out on the first of January
with the whole camp, for the buffalo country, on the Powder River, a
distance of about one hundred and fifty miles. "Times were hard in
camp," when mountains had to be crossed in the depth of winter.
The animals had to be subsisted on the bark of the sweet cotton-wood,
which grows along the streams and in the valleys on the east side of the
Rocky Mountains, but is nowhere to be found west of that range. This way
of providing for his horses and mules involved no trifling amount of
labor, when each man had to furnish food for several of them. To collect
this bark, the men carried the smooth limbs of the cotton-wood to camp,
where, beside the camp-fire, they shaved off the sweet, green bark with
a hunting-knife transformed into a drawing-knife by fastening a piece of
wood to its point; or, in case the cotton-wood was not convenient, the
bark was peeled off, and carried to camp in a blanket. So nutritious is
it, that animals fatten upon it quite as well as upon oats.
[Illustration: HUNTER'S WINTER CAMP.]
In the large cotton-wood bottoms on the Yellowstone River, it sometimes
became necessary to station a double guard to keep the buffalo out of
camp, so numerous were they, when the severity of the cold drove them
from the prairies to these cotton-wood thickets for subsistence. It
was, therefore, of double importance to make the winter camp where the
cotton-wood was plenty; since not only did it furnish the animals of the
camp with food, but by attracting buffalo, made game plenty for the men.
To such a hunter's paradise on Powder River, the camp was now traveling,
and arrived, after a hard, cold march, about the middle of January, when
the whole encampment went into winter quarters, to remain until the
opening of spring.
This was the occasion when the mountain-man "lived fat" and enjoyed
life: a season of plenty, of relaxation, of amusement, of
acquaintanceship with all the company, of gayety, and of "busy
idleness." Through the day, hunting parties were coming and going, men
were cooking, drying meat, making moccasins, cleaning their arms,
wrestling, playing games, and, in short, everything that an isolated
community of hardy men could resort to for occupation, was resorted to
by these mountaineers. Nor was there wanting, in the appearance of the
camp, the variety, and that picturesque air imparted by a mingling of
the native element; for what with their Indian allies, their native
wives, and numerous children, the mountaineers' camp was a motley
assemblage; and the trappers themselves, with their affectation of
Indian coxcombry, not the least picturesque individuals.
The change wrought in a wilderness landscape by the arrival of the grand
camp was wonderful indeed. Instead of Nature's superb silence and
majestic loneliness, there was the sound of men's voices in boisterous
laughter, or the busy hum of conversation; the loud-resounding stroke of
the axe; the sharp report of the rifle; the neighing of horses, and
braying of mules; the Indian whoop and yell; and all that not unpleasing
confusion of sound which accompanies the movements of the creature man.
Over the plain, only dotted until now with shadows of clouds, or the
transitory passage of the deer, the antelope, or the bear, were
scattered hundreds of lodges and immense herds of grazing animals. Even
the atmosphere itself seemed changed from its original purity, and
became clouded with the smoke from many camp-fires. And all this change
might go as quickly as it came. The tent struck and the march resumed,
solitude reigned once more, and only the cloud dotted the silent
landscape.
If the day was busy and gleesome, the night had its charms as well.
Gathered about the shining fires, groups of men in fantastic costumes
told tales of marvelous adventures, or sung some old-remembered song, or
were absorbed in games of chance. Some of the better educated men, who
had once known and loved books, but whom some mishap in life had
banished to the wilderness, recalled their favorite authors, and recited
passages once treasured, now growing unfamiliar; or whispered to some
chosen confrere the saddened history of his earlier years, and charged
him thus and thus, should ever-ready death surprise himself in the next
spring's hunt.
It will not be thought discreditable to our young trapper, Joe, that he
learned to read by the light of the camp-fire. Becoming sensible, even
in the wilderness, of the deficiencies of his early education, he found
a teacher in a comrade, named Green, and soon acquired sufficient
knowledge to enjoy an old copy of Shakspeare; which, with a Bible, was
carried about with the property of the camp.
In this life of careless gayety and plenty, the whole company was
allowed to remain without interruption, until the first of April, when
it was divided, and once more started on the march. Jackson, or "Davey,"
as he was called by the men, with about half the company, left for the
Snake country. The remainder, among whom was Meek, started north, with
Smith for commander, and James Bridger as pilot.
Crossing the mountains, ranges of which divide the tributary streams of
the Yellowstone from each other, the first halt was made on Tongue
River. From thence the camp proceeded to the Bighorn River. Through all
this country game was in abundance,--buffalo, elk, and bear, and beaver
also plenty. In mountain phrase, "times were good on this hunt:" beaver
packs increased in number, and both men and animals were in excellent
condition.
A large party usually hunted out the beaver and frightened away the game
in a few weeks, or days, from any one locality. When this happened the
camp moved on; or, should not game be plenty, it kept constantly on the
move, the hunters and trappers seldom remaining out more than a day or
two. Should the country be considered dangerous on account of Indians,
it was the habit of the men to return every night to the encampment.
It was the design of Smith to take his command into the Blackfoot
country, a region abounding in the riches which he sought, could they
only be secured without coming into too frequent conflict with the
natives: always a doubtful question concerning these savages. He had
proceeded in this direction as far as Bovey's Fork of the Bighorn, when
the camp was overtaken by a heavy fall of snow, which made traveling
extremely difficult, and which, when melted, caused a sudden great rise
in the mountain streams. In attempting to cross Bovey's Fork during the
high water, he had thirty horses swept away, with three hundred traps: a
serious loss in the business of hunting beaver.
In the manner described, pushing on through an unknown country, hunting
and trapping as they moved, the company proceeded, passing another low
chain of mountains, through a pass called Pryor's Gap, to Clark's Fork
of the Yellowstone, thence to Rose-Bud River, and finally to the main
Yellowstone River, where it makes a great bend to the east, enclosing a
large plain covered with grass, and having also extensive cotton-wood
bottoms, which subsequently became a favorite wintering ground of the
fur companies.
It was while trapping up in this country, on the Rose-Bud River, that an
amusing adventure befel our trapper Joe. Being out with two other
trappers, at some distance from the great camp, they had killed and
supped off a fat buffalo cow. The night was snowy, and their camp was
made in a grove of young aspens. Having feasted themselves, the
remaining store of choice pieces was divided between, and placed, hunter
fashion, under the heads of the party, on their betaking themselves to
their blanket couches for the night. Neither Indian nor wild beast
disturbed their repose, as they slept, with their guns beside them,
filled with comfort and plenty. But who ever dreams of the presence of a
foe under such circumstances? Certainly not our young trapper, who was
only awakened about day-break by something very large and heavy walking
over him, and snuffing about him with a most insulting freedom. It did
not need Yankee powers of guessing to make out who the intruder in camp
might be: in truth, it was only too disagreeably certain that it was a
full sized grizzly bear, whose keenness of smell had revealed to him the
presence of fat cow-meat in that neighborhood.
"You may be sure," says Joe, "that I kept very quiet, while that bar
helped himself to some of my buffalo meat, and went a little way off to
eat it. But Mark Head, one of the men, raised up, and back came the
bar. Down went our heads under the blankets, and I kept mine covered
pretty snug, while the beast took another walk over the bed, but finally
went off again to a little distance. Mitchel then wanted to shoot; but I
said, 'no, no; hold on, or the brute will kill us, sure.' When the bar
heard our voices, back he run again, and jumped on the bed as before.
I'd have been happy to have felt myself sinking ten feet under ground,
while that bar promenaded over and around us! However, he couldn't quite
make out our style, and finally took fright, and ran off down the
mountain. Wanting to be revenged for his impudence, I went after him,
and seeing a good chance, shot him dead. Then I took my turn at running
over him awhile!"
Such are the not infrequent incidents of the trapper's life, which
furnish him with material, needing little embellishment to convert it
into those wild tales with which the nights are whiled away around the
winter camp-fire.
Arrived at the Yellowstone with his company, Smith found it necessary,
on account of the high water, to construct Bull-boats for the crossing.
These are made by stitching together buffalo hides, stretching them over
light frames, and paying the seams with elk tallow and ashes. In these
light wherries the goods and people were ferried over, while the horses
and mules were crossed by swimming.
The mode usually adopted in crossing large rivers, was to spread the
lodges on the ground, throwing on them the light articles, saddles, etc.
A rope was then run through the pin-holes around the edge of each, when
it could be drawn up like a reticule. It was then filled with the
heavier camp goods, and being tightly drawn up, formed a perfect ball. A
rope being tied to it, it was launched on the water, the children of the
camp on top, and the women swimming after and clinging to it, while a
man, who had the rope in his hand, swam ahead holding on to his horse's
mane. In this way, dancing like a cork on the waves, the lodge was
piloted across; and passengers as well as freight consigned, undamaged,
to the opposite shore. A large camp of three hundred men, and one
hundred women and children were frequently thus crossed in one hour's
time.
The camp was now in the excellent but inhospitable country of the
Blackfeet, and the commander redoubled his precautions, moving on all
the while to the Mussel Shell, and thence to the Judith River. Beaver
were plenty and game abundant; but the vicinity of the large village of
the Blackfeet made trapping impracticable. Their war upon the trappers
was ceaseless; their thefts of traps and horses ever recurring: and
Smith, finding that to remain was to be involved in incessant warfare,
without hope of victory or gain, at length gave the command to turn
back, which was cheerfully obeyed: for the trappers had been very
successful on the spring hunt, and thinking discretion some part at
least of valor, were glad to get safe out of the Blackfoot country with
their rich harvest of beaver skins.
The return march was by the way of Pryor's Gap, and up the Bighorn, to
Wind River, where the cache was made in the previous December. The furs
were now taken out and pressed, ready for transportation across the
plains. A party was also dispatched, under Mr. Tullock, to raise the
cache on the Bighorn River. Among this party was Meek, and a Frenchman
named Ponto. While digging to come at the fur, the bank above caved in,
falling upon Meek and Ponto, killing the latter almost instantly. Meek,
though severely hurt, was taken out alive: while poor Ponto was "rolled
in a blanket, and pitched into the river." So rude were the burial
services of the trapper of the Rocky Mountains.
Meek was packed back to camp, along with the furs, where he soon
recovered. Sublette arrived from St. Louis with fourteen wagons loaded
with merchandise, and two hundred additional men for the service.
Jackson also arrived from the Snake country with plenty of beaver, and
the business of the yearly rendezvous began. Then the scenes previously
described were re-enacted. Beaver, the currency of the mountains, was
plenty that year, and goods were high accordingly. A thousand dollars a
day was not too much for some of the most reckless to spend on their
squaws, horses, alcohol, and themselves. For "alcohol" was the beverage
of the mountaineers. Liquors could not be furnished to the men in that
country. Pure alcohol was what they "got tight on;" and a desperate
tight it was, to be sure!
An important change took place in the affairs of the Rocky Mountain
Company at this rendezvous. The three partners, Smith, Sublette, and
Jackson, sold out to a new firm, consisting of Milton Sublette, James
Bridger, Fitzpatrick, Frapp, and Jervais; the new company retaining the
same name and style as the old.
The old partners left for St. Louis, with a company of seventy men, to
convoy the furs. Two of them never returned to the Rocky Mountains; one
of them, Smith, being killed the following year, as will hereafter be
related; and Jackson remaining in St. Louis, where, like a true
mountain-man, he dissipated his large and hard-earned fortune in a few
years. Captain Sublette, however, continued to make his annual trips to
and from the mountains for a number of years; and until the
consolidation of another wealthy company with the Rocky Mountain
Company, continued to furnish goods to the latter, at a profit on St.
Louis prices; his capital and experience enabling him to keep the new
firm under his control to a large degree.