FOR THE BLACKFOOT CAMP
As the boat slowly drew near the wharf, Hugh and Jack, from the
upper deck, recognized first the old adobe fort and then, one after
another, the different buildings of the town. The arrival of the
steamer was always a great event in Benton, and pretty much all
the inhabitants of the town were seen making their way toward the
water's edge. The throng was made up of whites and Indians, with an
occasional Chinaman: for already Chinamen had begun to come into
the country. At first the two watchers from the steamboat could
recognize no faces, but, as the boat drew nearer and nearer, Hugh
suddenly let his hand fall on Jack's shoulder and said, "There's
Baptiste, and I believe that's Joe standing near him."
"Oh, where are they, Hugh? I can't see either of them:" and then a
moment later, after Hugh had told him where the two stood, he saw
them; and springing up on the rail, and holding to a stanchion, he
waved his hat, and shouted out to Joe, who had already recognized
him and made joyous gestures in response.
A little later, the four were cordially shaking hands on the shore:
and presently, when the crowd of passengers had left the boat, the
two old men and the boys went on board again and, mounting to the
upper deck, talked together. Jack's first question to Joe was as to
the whereabouts of the camp.
"Down east of the Judith Mountains somewhere, I expect," said Joe
in reply. "They went down there to kill buffalo; there's lots
of buffalo over on the Judith, or between the Judith and the
Musselshell. I guess they'll be there all summer, and before I left
the camp I heard that they would make the medicine lodge somewhere
out in that country."
"What about the hostiles, Joe?" said Jack. "Have they seen any
Sioux lately?"
"No," said Joe, "but I've heard that there are a few passing back
and forth, between the lower country and Sitting Bull's camp, over
across the line."
"Like enough," said Hugh, "like enough. We've got to look out for
those fellows; but they won't do nothing more than try to steal our
horses."
Hugh had been talking quietly with Baptiste La Jeunesse, who told
him what had been happening in Benton during the winter. This was
not much: there was talk that a railroad was going to be built into
the country, one that might even pass through Fort Benton itself,
and this would make the town big and important, so people said--and
Fort Benton would once more become what it had been in the early
days of the fur trade, a populous and thriving place.
"And how have you been getting on yourself, Bat?" said Hugh.
"Oh, I've done well. I always have everything that I want, since
you people came in here last summer and gave me the gold. Every
month I go to the bank, and they give me the pay for the money
that you lent them for me, and so I live well. It doesn't make any
difference to me whether I've work to do or not, yet always it is
pleasant to be doing something, and so I keep on working. Also,
there are some people in the town who are poor, just as I used to
be; and now that I have money I can help them to live, just as your
boy has helped me."
"Well, Bat, it makes me feel good that you are doing well, and I
think that you will continue to do well from this on."
"And what are you going to do this season, Hugh?" said Baptiste.
"Where are you going, and what are you going to do--hunting or
trapping, or what?"
"Well, Bat," said Hugh, "I am traveling 'round again with this boy
of mine. His uncle and his father and mother want him to spend the
summers out here, and get strong and hearty, and they've told me to
travel with him, and teach him about the way of living out here;
the same lesson that you and I learned when we were young; only he
will learn it in a better and easier way than we did. He's a good
boy: I like him better all the time. I should feel bad if anything
happened to him."
"Yes, Hugh, I think he's a good boy," said Baptiste. "Both of those
boys are good. I like the Indian well. He came in here many days
ago, and came to me; and since he got here, he and I have lived
together. I like him."
Hugh now turned to the two boys, who were busily talking, and
said; "Now, boys, if we're going to get off to-night we've got to
make a start right soon. I expect Joe has got all our stuff ready,
except the grub, and if you and he will hurry up and get the horses
together and get them saddled, I'll go and buy the grub, and put
it in the wagon, and come down here and get our guns and beds, and
we'll pack up and move out of town four or five miles and camp."
Both the boys jumped to their feet, and Jack said; "Hurray! that's
what I want to do; I want to get out on the prairie once more, and
I don't want to see a town again until I have to."
Jack and Joe started at once, and ran races with each other up the
street, to see which should get first to the stable. Joe beat the
white boy, who found that his winter's confinement, and his lack
of exercise in the big city had made him short of wind; so that at
last he got out of breath, and stopped running. When they reached
the stable, Joe took his rope and went out into the corral, and
caught a handsome little buckskin pony, and, saddling it, rode
out to get the animals which were pasturing on the bluffs above
the town. He was gone some little time, and then, Jack, who was
watching for him, saw the familiar sight of loose horses running
along the bluff, and then turning and rushing down its steep sides,
followed by a cloud of dust; and then Joe, with whoops and yells,
and quick turnings and twistings of his horse, drove them up to
the bars, through which they crowded, and then stood quiet in the
corral.
Jack thought that he would try his old scheme of calling Pawnee,
and whistled sharply. The good horse threw up his head, and looked
about, and then seeming to recognize Jack, walked over to him, and
arched his neck over his shoulder in the old-fashioned way. Jack
was very much touched, and put his arms around the horse's head,
and leaned his head against his neck, thrilled with affection for
the animal that he had ridden so many miles. Presently they got
out the ropes, and tied up the horses, and one by one they were
saddled. They were all fat and in good condition, and some of them
objected quite strongly to being saddled. The dun bucked when the
flank cinch tightened on him, just as he had bucked the first time
Jack ever saw him packed, and so did the star-faced bay. The others
grunted and squealed and kicked a little, but on the whole took the
saddling very well.
Not long after they had finished saddling up they heard a cheery
call from the front of the stable, and, rushing out, Jack saw the
wagon, piled up with food and beds, and Hugh and Baptiste, sitting
in it. It took some little time to make up the packs, but by late
afternoon this was done, the horses packed, and after shaking
hands with Baptiste, the little train, with Hugh in the lead, Jack
driving three pack horses, and Joe bringing up the rear, driving
two more, filed out of the town and climbed the hills toward the
upper prairie.
That afternoon they traveled until the sun went down, and then
coming on a little coulee, through which water trickled, they
camped. They were careful to picket all their horses; and after
this was done, while Joe and Jack brought armfuls of willow brush
from up and down the creek, Hugh cooked supper.
The next day they kept on. Now they were well away from the
settlements, and game began to be seen. Only antelope, it is true,
but of them there were plenty. Jack had a fair shot at a buck, at
about a hundred and twenty-five yards, but failed to kill him--to
his great mortification.
"Ha!" said Hugh, "you've got to learn how to shoot again; you shot
too high, and missed him slick and clean. I remember the first shot
you fired last year, when you first came out; you shot high then,
just as you did now. When we get to camp to-night, you and Joe had
better go out and shoot three or four times at a mark. You have got
to learn your gun over again, and Joe of course has got to learn
his for the first time." Jack had brought out from New York a gun
for Joe, carefully selected from the stock of one of the largest
rifle manufacturers in the world, and as yet Joe had not fired a
shot out of it; but he seemed never to tire of looking at it, and
putting it up to his shoulder, and sighting at various objects.
That night they camped on a great swiftly rushing stream, near some
high hills, or low mountains; and while he was cooking supper Hugh
sent them off to try their guns. With the axe they shaved off the
outer bark from a thick cottonwood tree, and making a black mark on
the brown surface, each fired five shots at it. Jack's first two
shots were high, but the next three were clustered within the size
of a silver dollar, all about the mark. Joe did not shoot quite so
steadily, two of his shots being above, and two below, and one a
little off to one side. When they returned to camp and Hugh asked
them about their shooting, they told him, and he advised them to
fire a few more shots after supper, and, if necessary, a few in the
morning.
"There's nothing, I hate worse than to hear a gun fired about
camp," he said, "but guns are no use to people unless they
understand them, and you boys must get used to your guns. It won't
take you more than a very few shots to do this, and you certainly
must do it."
The next morning they started on again. No signs had yet been seen
of the Indians, but this day they saw a few buffalo, old bulls,
mostly off to the north of them. In the afternoon they passed by
the Moccasin Mountains, and camped on a little stream flowing into
the Judith River. After they had unpacked their animals and made
camp, Hugh said to Jack, "Son, have you ever been here before? Do
you see anything that you recognize?"
"Why, no Hugh," said Jack, "I don't think I do;" and standing up
he took a long look about him, up and down the valley, and at the
hills on either side. Suddenly his face brightened, and he said,
"Why yes I do, too. I know where we are. This is just where we
came through last year, the second day after I got caught in the
quicksands in the Musselshell."
"That's so," said Hugh, "this is just where we came. I wondered if
you'd recognize it. You ought to do so, and I'm glad you do.
"Right over a few miles east of us is what we used to call old
Camp Lewis. There used to be a trading store there, and a camp
of soldiers, and a few men got killed there, mostly soldiers. I
remember coming through here not many years ago, the afternoon
after some soldiers got killed on the bank of the creek, right
close to the camp. There was a camp of Crows there then--about
three hundred lodges. The Sioux came down, and ran off some
government horses, and killed three recruits that were fishing here
in the creek, and the Crows took after 'em, and had quite a fight,
and Long Horse, the Crow chief got killed. They got seven of the
Sioux, I think. They had quite a time here in the camp then. I
remember Yellowstone Kelly was here, and three or four other men; I
think the Sioux set them all afoot."
The next morning while Hugh was getting breakfast he said to Jack:
"Son, why don't you kill some meat? You are going through a country
where game is fairly plenty; anyway, antelope are, and there's a
few buffalo; and besides that, here are some mountains right close
to you, where there's surely lots of sheep. You boys had better
make up your minds to do something to-day; if you don't I'll have
to start out and hunt, to kill meat for the camp."
"Well, Hugh," said Jack, "I certainly would rather hunt than
drive pack horses; and if you want me to I'll go off to-day and
follow along a little closer to the hills, and see if I can't kill
something."
"Do so," said Hugh, "and then if you kill anything you can easily
overtake us. We will be traveling slow, and your horse is good and
fat and can catch us wherever we are. All the same, keep your eye
open for Indians, and don't let any strangers come up too close to
you. I'd rather have you two boys go off together, but I've got to
keep Joe with me, to drive these pack horses. You'd better throw
the saddle on your horse and start right off, and maybe you'll
catch us before we've gone very far."
No sooner said than done. Jack saddled up, and having asked Hugh
the direction in which the party would move, rode away to the left,
toward the low foot-hills of the mountains. He had gone only a mile
or two when, passing over the shoulder of the foot-hills, he found
himself coming down into a narrow valley, in which pretty little
meadows were interspersed with clumps of cottonwoods and willows.
Three or four antelope were feeding in the valley not far off, but
there was no cover under which they could be approached, so he
rode straight along. As he drew near, the antelope ceased feeding
and raised their heads, and then, before he was within easy rifle
shot, trotted off to the other side of the valley, and stood on
the hillside watching him. After looking back for a few moments,
they started, in single file, and slowly walked up the hill. They
were by no means frightened, and it seemed likely that by taking a
little time, after they had passed on out of sight, he might get a
shot at them; but the brush above him on the stream seemed likely
to hold a deer, and he turned his horse that way and rode quietly
forward up the stream, among the groups of bushes. He had not
gone very far when from a clump of willows at his right a big doe
sprang into view, and moved slowly off by those high, long bounds
which make the white-tail, in motion, one of the most graceful of
animals. Jack's impulse was to jump off his horse and shoot at
her, but he saw that, if he did this, he would be so low down that
she could hardly be seen over the tops of the willows. He checked
Pawnee, cocked his gun, and rising a little in his stirrups, and
gripping the horse with his thighs, aimed carefully at the back of
the doe's head, just as she was rising in one of her leaps, and
pulled the trigger.
Almost at the report, her long tail fell flat to her body, and
she began to run much faster. He knew he had hit her, and before
she had gone fifty yards, and while she was crossing an open bit
of meadow, she fell. Jack rode up to her, and on turning her over
found that he had made a good shot. A ball had entered her back,
just to the right of the spine, and had pierced both lungs and
heart.
Turning her over, to get her ready to put on the horse, he was
glad to see that she was a barren doe, one that had not produced
a fawn that spring, and so would be fat and good eating. She was
pretty big, however, and Jack was a little uncertain just how he
was going to get her on his horse. Of course by cutting her up it
could easily have been done, for then the quarters would not be
too heavy for him to handle. At first he thought that he would
take in the whole animal, but considering the time that this
might take, and the fact that he had to ride a long way before
overtaking his companions, he determined to do things in the easier
way. He skinned the deer, therefore, cut off the shoulders and
hams, and tied them on his horse, and then taking out sirloins and
tenderloins, and some of the fat, wrapped this up in the skin, and
put that on behind the saddle. Now he had a fairly compact load,
which could be easily carried, and would not be a great additional
weight for his horse; while on the ground were left all the bones
of the deer, except those of the legs. This method of butchering he
had learned from the Indians the summer before.
All this had taken some little time, and when Jack looked at the
sun he saw that the morning was half gone. Hugh had told him that
they would follow the trail around the point of the mountains, and
would then strike the Carroll Road, and bend back toward the river
again. This meant that if he could cross the point of the mountains
he would save several miles travel, and this he determined to do.
Before starting, he tightened up his cinches carefully, for he knew
that the pieces of meat tied on his saddle would give it more or
less side motion, and he did not want it to chafe Pawnee's back.
Then he climbed into the saddle and started. By this time the sun
was pouring down hot upon him, and there was no breeze. From the
high ridges that he crossed from time to time he had a wide view
of the prairie, and of the distant mountains, the Little Belts
and Snowies, which rose from the plain a long way to the south.
Here and there on the prairie were black dots, which he knew were
buffalo, and other white ones, much nearer, which were antelope.
Occasionally, as he rode along, a great sage grouse would rise from
the ground near his horse's feet, or a jack-rabbit would start up,
and after running fifteen or twenty yards, would stop, sit up,
raise its enormous ears, look at him for a moment, and then settle
back on all fours, and flatten itself on the ground, so that if he
took his eye off it for a moment he could not find it again. It
seemed to him then, as it had so often seemed before, a wonderful
thing to see how absolutely this wild creature, like so many
others, could disappear from sight even while one was looking at it.
As he rode over a high ridge, he saw on the hillside before him,
two white-rumped animals, that for a moment he thought were
antelope; but a second glance showed him that they were not, and,
to his very great astonishment, he recognized them as mountain
sheep--a ewe and her young one--which had been feeding on the
prairie, just where he would have expected an antelope to be. He
threw himself off his horse and, cocking his gun, jerked it to
his shoulder and then paused, and lowering it again, stepped back
and put his foot in the stirrup. As he mounted, the ewe, which
had been looking at him, started to run, passing hardly more than
fifty yards in front of him, closely followed by the lamb. A little
further on, she stopped again and gazed, and Jack sat there and
returned her look. The sight of the sheep had been almost too much
for him, and he had come near shooting her,--but before he pressed
the trigger he realized that if he shot her he should have to shoot
the lamb, and he could not conveniently carry either, and the old
ewe would be thin in flesh and hardly worth taking with him. The
temptation had been strong, but as he sat there and looked at the
graceful animal, which stood and stamped, while the lamb, close
beside her, imitated her motions, he realized that it was a good
thing to let them go.
It seemed to him a mysterious thing, though, that these sheep
should be down here on the prairie, and a long way from the rocky
peaks, where he supposed they always lived. He made up his mind
that he would ask Hugh about this when he got into camp and get him
to explain it.
At last he had crossed the point of the mountains and began to
descend. Stretching out toward the northeast he could see a dim
thin line, which, although it was interrupted at times--and
sometimes for long distances--he thought must be the Carroll Road.
Then off a long way to the east was a line of dark--the timber
along a stream's course--which he supposed was where they would
camp to-night.
He had almost reached the level prairie, when suddenly he became
aware of two horsemen galloping toward him from behind. He watched
them as they drew nearer, and at last could make out that they were
Indians; and by this is meant that he saw that they had no hats on.
More than that, he could see, he thought, that one of them had red
leggings.