1836. The company of men who went north this year under Bridger and
Fontenelle, numbered nearly three hundred. Rendezvous with all its
varied excitements being over, this important brigade commenced its
march. According to custom, the trappers commenced business on the
head-waters of various rivers, following them down as the early frosts
of the mountains forced them to do, until finally they wintered in the
plains, at the most favored spots they could find in which to subsist
themselves and animals.
From Green River, Meek proceeded with Bridger's command to Lewis River,
Salt River, and other tributaries of the Snake, and camped with them in
Pierre's Hole, that favorite mountain valley which every year was
visited by the different fur companies.
[Illustration: _THE BEAR IN CAMP._]
Pierre's Hole, notwithstanding its beauties, had some repulsive
features, or rather perhaps _one_ repulsive feature, which was, its
great numbers of rattlesnakes. Meek relates that being once caught in a
very violent thunder storm, he dismounted, and holding his horse, a fine
one, by the bridle, himself took shelter under a narrow shelf of rock
projecting from a precipitous bluff. Directly he observed an enormous
rattlesnake hastening close by him to its den in the mountain.
Congratulating himself on his snake-ship's haste to get out of the storm
and his vicinity, he had only time to have one rejoicing thought when
two or three others followed the trail of the first one. They were
seeking the same rocky den, of whose proximity Meek now felt
uncomfortably assured. Before these were out of sight, there came
instead of twos and threes, tens and twenties, and then hundreds, and
finally Meek believes thousands, the ground being literally alive with
them. Not daring to stir after he discovered the nature of his
situation, he was obliged to remain and endure the disgusting and
frightful scene, while he exerted himself to keep his horse quiet, lest
the reptiles should attack him. By and by, when there were no more to
come, but all were safe in their holes in the rock, Meek hastily mounted
and galloped in the face of the tempest in preference to remaining
longer in so unpleasant a neighborhood.
There was an old Frenchman among the trappers who used to charm
rattlesnakes, and handling them freely, place them in his bosom, or
allow them to wind about his arms, several at a time, their flat heads
extending in all directions, and their bodies waving in the air, in the
most snaky and nerve-shaking manner, to the infinite disgust of all the
camp, and of Hawkins and Meek in particular. Hawkins often became so
nervous that he threatened to shoot the Frenchman on the instant, if he
did not desist; and great was the dislike he entertained for what he
termed the "---- infernal old wizard."
It was often the case in the mountains and on the plains that the camp
was troubled with rattlesnakes, so that each man on laying down to sleep
found it necessary to encircle his bed with a hair rope, thus
effectually fencing out the reptiles, which are too fastidious and
sensitive of touch to crawl over a hair rope. But for this precaution,
the trapper must often have shared his blanket couch with this foe to
the "seed of the woman," who being asleep would have neglected to "crush
his head," receiving instead the serpent's fang in "his heel," if not
in some nobler portion of his body.
There is a common belief abroad that the prairie dog harbors the
rattlesnake, and the owl also, in his subterranean house, in a more or
less friendly manner. Meek, however, who has had many opportunities of
observing the habits of these three ill-assorted denizens of a common
abode, gives it as his opinion that the prairie dog consents to the
invasion of his premises alone through his inability to prevent it. As
these prairie dog villages are always found on the naked prairies, where
there is neither rocky den for the rattlesnake, nor shade for the
blinking eyes of the owl, these two idle and impudent foreigners,
availing themselves of the labors of the industrious little animal which
builds itself a cool shelter from the sun, and a safe one from the
storm, whenever their own necessities drive them to seek refuge from
either sun or storm, enter uninvited and take possession. It is probable
also, that so far from being a welcome guest, the rattlesnake
occasionally gorges himself with a young prairie-dog, when other game is
not conveniently nigh, or that the owl lies in wait at the door of its
borrowed-without-leave domicile, and succeeds in nabbing a careless
field-mouse more easily than it could catch the same game by seeking it
as an honest owl should do. The owl and the rattlesnake are like the
Sioux when they go on a visit to the Omahas--the visit being always
timed so as to be identical in date with that of the Government Agents
who are distributing food and clothing. They are very good friends for
the nonce, the poor Omahas not daring to be otherwise for fear of the
ready vengeance on the next summer's buffalo hunt; therefore they
conceal their grimaces and let the Sioux eat them up; and when summer
comes get massacred on their buffalo hunt, all the same.
But to return to our brigade. About the last of October Bridger's
company moved down on to the Yellowstone by a circuitous route through
the North Pass, now known as Hell Gate Pass, to Judith River, Mussel
Shell River, Cross Creeks of the Yellowstone, Three Forks of Missouri,
Missouri Lake, Beaver Head country, Big Horn River, and thence east
again, and north again to the wintering ground in the great bend of the
Yellowstone.
The company had not proceeded far in the Blackfeet country, between Hell
Gate Pass and the Yellowstone, before they were attacked by the
Blackfeet. On arriving at the Yellowstone they discovered a considerable
encampment of the enemy on an island or bar in the river, and proceeded
to open hostilities before the Indians should have discovered them.
Making little forts of sticks or bushes, each man advanced cautiously to
the bank overlooking the island, pushing his leafy fort before him as he
crept silently nearer, until a position was reached whence firing could
commence with effect. The first intimation the luckless savages had of
the neighborhood of the whites was a volley of shots discharged into
their camp, killing several of their number. But as this was their own
mode of attack, no reflections were likely to be wasted upon the
unfairness of the assault; quickly springing to their arms the firing
was returned, and for several hours was kept up on both sides. At night
the Indians stole off, having lost nearly thirty killed; nor did the
trappers escape quite unhurt, three being killed and a few others
wounded.
Since men were of such value to the fur companies, it would seem strange
that they should deliberately enter upon an Indian fight before being
attacked. But unfortunate as these encounters really were, they knew of
no other policy to be pursued. They, (the American Companies,) were not
resident, with a long acquaintance, and settled policy, such as
rendered the Hudson's Bay Company so secure amongst the savages. They
knew that among these unfriendly Indians, not to attack was to be
attacked, and consequently little time was ever given for an Indian to
discover his vicinity to a trapper. The trapper's shot informed him of
that, and afterwards the race was to the swift, and the battle to the
strong. Besides this acknowledged necessity for fighting whenever and
wherever Indians were met with in the Blackfeet and Crow countries,
almost every trapper had some private injury to avenge--some theft, or
wound, or imprisonment, or at the very least, some terrible fright
sustained at the hands of the universal foe. Therefore there was no
reluctance to shoot into an Indian camp, provided the position of the
man shooting was a safe one, or more defensible than that of the man
shot at. Add to this that there was no law in the mountains, only
license, it is easy to conjecture that might would have prevailed over
right with far less incentive to the exercise of savage practices than
actually did exist. Many a trapper undoubtedly shot his Indian "for the
fun of it," feeling that it was much better to do so than run the risk
of being shot at for no better reason. Of this class of reasoners, it
must be admitted, Meek was one. Indian-fighting, like bear-fighting, had
come to be a sort of pastime, in which he was proud to be known as
highly accomplished. Having so many opportunities for the display of
game qualities in encounters with these two by-no-means-to-be despised
foes of the trapper, it was not often that they quarreled among
themselves after the grand frolic of the rendezvous was over.
It happened, however, during this autumn, that while the main camp was
in the valley of the Yellowstone, a party of eight trappers, including
Meek and a comrade named Stanberry, were trapping together on the
Mussel Shell, when the question as to which was the bravest man got
started between them, and at length, in the heat of controversy, assumed
such importance that it was agreed to settle the matter on the following
day according to the Virginia code of honor, _i.e._, by fighting a duel,
and shooting at each other with guns, which hitherto had only done
execution on bears and Indians.
But some listening spirit of the woods determined to avert the danger
from these two equally brave trappers, and save their ammunition for its
legitimate use, by giving them occasion to prove their courage almost on
the instant. While sitting around the camp-fire discussing the coming
event of the duel at thirty paces, a huge bear, already wounded by a
shot from the gun of their hunter who was out looking for game, came
running furiously into camp, giving each man there a challenge to fight
or fly.
"Now," spoke up one of the men quickly, "let Meek and Stanberry prove
which is bravest, by fighting the bear!" "Agreed," cried the two as
quickly, and both sprang with guns and wiping-sticks in hand, charging
upon the infuriated beast as it reached the spot where they were
awaiting it. Stanberry was a small man, and Meek a large one. Perhaps it
was owing to this difference of stature that Meek was first to reach the
bear as it advanced. Running up with reckless bravado Meek struck the
creature two or three times over the head with his wiping-stick before
aiming to fire, which however he did so quickly and so surely that the
beast fell dead at his feet. This act settled the vexed question. Nobody
was disposed to dispute the point of courage with a man who would stop
to strike a grizzly before shooting him: therefore Meek was proclaimed
by the common voice to be "cock of the walk" in that camp. The pipe of
peace was solemnly smoked by himself and Stanberry, and the tomahawk
buried never more to be resurrected between them, while a fat supper of
bear meat celebrated the compact of everlasting amity.
It was not an unfrequent occurrence for a grizzly bear to be run into
camp by the hunters, in the Yellowstone country where this creature
abounded. An amusing incident occurred not long after that just related,
when the whole camp was at the Cross Creeks of the Yellowstone, on the
south side of that river. The hunters were out, and had come upon two or
three bears in a thicket. As these animals sometimes will do, they
started off in a great fright, running toward camp, the hunters after
them, yelling, frightening them still more. A runaway bear, like a
runaway horse, appears not to see where it is going, but keeps right on
its course no matter what dangers lie in advance. So one of these
animals having got headed for the middle of the encampment, saw nothing
of what lay in its way, but ran on and on, apparently taking note of
nothing but the yells in pursuit. So sudden and unexpected was the
charge which he made upon camp, that the Indian women, who were sitting
on the ground engaged in some ornamental work, had no time to escape out
of the way. One of them was thrown down and run over, and another was
struck with such violence that she was thrown twenty feet from the spot
where she was hastily attempting to rise. Other objects in camp were
upset and thrown out of the way, but without causing so much merriment
as the mishaps of the two women who were so rudely treated by the
monster.
[Illustration: SATISFIED WITH BEAR FIGHTING.]
It was also while the camp was at the Cross Creeks of the Yellowstone
that Meek had one of his best fought battles with a grizzly bear. He was
out with two companions, one Gardiner, and Mark Head, a Shawnee Indian.
Seeing a very large bear digging roots in the creek bottom, Meek
proposed to attack it, if the others would hold his horse ready to
mount if he failed to kill the creature. This being agreed to he
advanced to within about forty paces of his game, when he raised his gun
and attempted to fire, but the cap bursting he only roused the beast,
which turned on him with a terrific noise between a snarl and a growl,
showing some fearful looking teeth. Meek turned to run for his horse, at
the same time trying to put a cap on his gun; but when he had almost
reached his comrades, their horses and his own took fright at the bear
now close on his heels, and ran, leaving him alone with the now fully
infuriated beast. Just at the moment he succeeded in getting a cap on
his gun, the teeth of the bear closed on his blanket capote which was
belted around the waist, the suddenness and force of the seizure turning
him around, as the skirt of his capote yielded to the strain and tore
off at the belt. Being now nearly face to face with his foe, the
intrepid trapper thrust his gun into the creature's mouth and attempted
again to fire, but the gun being double triggered and not set, it failed
to go off. Perceiving the difficulty he managed to set the triggers with
the gun still in the bear's mouth, yet no sooner was this done than the
bear succeeded in knocking it out, and firing as it slipped out, it hit
her too low down to inflict a fatal wound and only served to irritate
her still farther.
In this desperate situation when Meek's brain was rapidly working on the
problem of live Meek or live bear, two fresh actors appeared on the
scene in the persons of two cubs, who seeing their mother in difficulty
seemed desirous of doing something to assist her. Their appearance
seemed to excite the bear to new exertions, for she made one desperate
blow at Meek's empty gun with which he was defending himself, and
knocked it out of his hands, and far down the bank or sloping hillside
where the struggle was now going on. Then being partially blinded by
rage, she seized one of her cubs and began to box it about in a most
unmotherly fashion. This diversion gave Meek a chance to draw his knife
from the scabbard, with which he endeavored to stab the bear behind the
ear: but she was too quick for him, and with a blow struck it out of his
hand, as she had the gun, nearly severing his forefinger.
At this critical juncture the second cub interfered, and got a boxing
from the old bear, as the first one had done. This too, gave Meek time
to make a movement, and loosening his tomahawk from his belt, he made
one tremendous effort, taking deadly aim, and struck her just behind the
ear, the tomahawk sinking into the brain, and his powerful antagonist
lay dead before him. When the blow was struck he stood with his back
against a little bluff of rock, beyond which it was impossible to
retreat. It was his last chance, and his usual good fortune stood by
him. When the struggle was over the weary victor mounted the rock
behind him and looked down upon his enemy slain; and "came to the
conclusion that he was satisfied with bar-fighting."
But renown had sought him out even here, alone with his lifeless
antagonist. Capt. Stuart with his artist, Mr. Miller, chanced upon this
very spot, while yet the conqueror contemplated his slain enemy, and
taking possession at once of the bear, whose skin was afterward
preserved and stuffed, made a portrait of the "satisfied" slayer. A
picture was subsequently painted by Miller of this scene, and was copied
in wax for a museum in St. Louis, where it probably remains to this day,
a monument of Meek's best bear fight. As for Meek's runaway horse and
runaway comrades, they returned to the scene of action too late to be of
the least service, except to furnish our hero with transportation to
camp, which, considering the weight of his newly gathered laurels, was
no light service after all.
In November Bridger's camp arrived at the Bighorn River, expecting to
winter; but finding the buffalo all gone, were obliged to cross the
mountains lying between the Bighorn and Powder rivers to reach the
buffalo country on the latter stream. The snow having already fallen
quite deep on these mountains the crossing was attended with great
difficulty; and many horses and mules were lost by sinking in the snow,
or falling down precipices made slippery by the melting and freezing of
the snow on the narrow ridges and rocky benches along which they were
forced to travel.
About Christmas all the company went into winter-quarters on Powder
River, in the neighborhood of a company of Bonneville's men, left under
the command of Antoine Montero, who had established a trading-post and
fort at this place, hoping, no doubt, that here they should be
comparatively safe from the injurious competition of the older
companies. The appearance of three hundred men, who had the winter
before them in which to do mischief, was therefore as unpleasant as it
was unexpected; and the result proved that even Montero, who was
Bonneville's experienced trader, could not hold his own against so
numerous and expert a band of marauders as Bridger's men, assisted by
the Crows, proved themselves to be; for by the return of spring Montero
had very little remaining of the property belonging to the fort, nor
anything to show for it. This mischievous war upon Bonneville was
prompted partly by the usual desire to cripple a rival trader, which the
leaders encouraged in their men; but in some individual instances far
more by the desire for revenge upon Bonneville personally, on account of
his censures passed upon the members of the Monterey expedition, and on
the ways of mountain-men generally.
About the first of January, Fontenelle, with four men, and Captain
Stuart's party, left camp to go to St. Louis for supplies. At Fort
Laramie Fontenelle committed suicide, in a fit of _mania a potu_, and
his men returned to camp with the news.