Chapter X: Part 10

Of course I cried a little, but I knew that I had done quite right, that it was better for me to regulate my own affairs than to call upon the company commander to do so for me. I returned to the dining room, but soon there was a gentle knock on the door, and opening it, I saw Volmer standing in front of me, cap in hand, looking very meek and humble. Very respectfully he apologized, and expressed his regret at having offended me. That was very pleasant, but knowing the man's violent temper, and thinking of coming days, I proceeded to deliver a lecture to the effect that there was not another enlisted man in the regiment who would use such language in our house, or be so ungrateful for kindness that we had shown him. Above all, to make it unpleasant for me when I was alone.

I was so nervous, and talking to a soldier that way was so very disagreeable, I might have broken down and cried again--an awful thing to have done at that time--if I had not happened to have seen Hang's head sticking out at one side of his door. He had run to his room again, but could not resist keeping watch to see if Volmer was really intending to "killee" me. He is afraid of the soldier, and consequently hates him. Soon after he came, Volmer, who is a powerful man, tied him down to his bed with a picket rope, and such yells of fury and terror were never heard, and when I ran out to see what on earth was the matter, the Chinaman's eyes were green, and he was frothing at the mouth. For days after I was afraid that Hang would do some mischief to the man.

It is the striker's duty always to attend to the fires throughout the house, and this Volmer is doing very nicely. But when Faye went away he told Hang to take good care of me--so he, also, fixes the fires, and at the same time shows his dislike for Volmer, who will bring the big wood in and make the fires as they should be. Just as soon as he goes out, however, in marches Hang, with one or two small pieces of wood on his silk sleeve, and then, with much noise, he turns the wood in the stove upside down, and stirs things up generally, after which he will put in the little sticks and let it all roar until I am quite as stirred up as the fire. After he closes the dampers he will say to me in his most amiable squeak, "Me flixee him--he vellee glood now." This is all very nice as long as the house does not burn.

Night before last Mrs. Mills invited me to a family dinner. Colonel Mills was away, but Mr. Hughes was there, also Lieutenant Harvey to whom Miss Mills is engaged, and the three Mills boys, making a nice little party. But I felt rather sad--Faye was still en route to Washington, and going farther from home every hour, and it was impossible to tell when he would return, Mrs. Mills seemed distraite, too, when I first got to the house, but she soon brightened up and was as animated as ever. The dinner was perfect. Colonel Mills is quite an epicure, and he and Mrs. Mills have a reputation for serving choice and dainty things on their table. We returned to the little parlor after dinner, and were talking and laughing, when something went bang! like the hard shutting of a door.

Mrs. Mills jumped up instantly and exclaimed, "I knew it--I knew it!" and rushed to the back part of the house, the rest of us running after her. She went on through to the Chinaman's room, and there, on his cot, lay the little man, his face even then the color of old ivory. He had fired a small Derringer straight to his heart and was quite dead. I did not like to look at the dying man, so I ran for the doctor and almost bumped against him at the gate as he was passing. There was nothing that he could do, however.

Mrs. Mills told us that Sam had been an inveterate gambler--that he had won a great deal of money from the soldiers, particularly one, who had that very day threatened to kill him, accusing the Chinaman of having cheated. The soldier probably had no intention of doing anything of the kind, but said it to frighten the timid heathen, just for revenge. Sam had eaten a little dinner, and was eating ice-cream, evidently, when something or somebody made him go to his room and shoot himself. The next morning the Chinamen in the garrison buried him--not in the post cemetery, but just outside. Upon the grave they laid one or two suits of clothing, shoes--all Chinese, of course--and a great quantity of food--much of it their own fruits. That was for his spirit until it reached the Happy Land. The coyotes ate the food, but a Chinaman would never believe that, so more food was taken out this morning.

They are such a queer people! Hang's breakfast usually consists of a glass of cold water with two or three lumps of sugar dissolved in it and a piece of bread broken in it also. When it is necessary for Hang to be up late and do much extra work, I always give him a can of salmon, of which he seems very fond--or a chicken, and tell him to invite one or two friends to sit with him. This smooths away all little frowns and keeps things pleasant. Volmer killed the chicken once, and Hang brought it to me with eyes blazing--said it was poor--and "He ole-ee hin," so I found that the only way to satisfy the suspicious man was to let him select his own fowl. He always cooks it in the one way--boils it with Chinese fruits and herbs, and with the head and feet on--and I must admit that the odor is appetizing. But I have never tasted it, although Hang has never failed to save a nice piece for me. He was with Mrs. Pierce two years, and it was some time before I could convince him that this house was regulated my way and not hers. Major Pierce was promoted to another regiment and we miss them very much.

FORT SHAW, MONTANA TERRITORY, July, 1882.

THE garrison seems lonesome since the two companies have been out, and I am beginning to feel that I am at home alone quite too much. Faye was in Washington two months, and almost immediately after he got back he was ordered to command the paymaster's escort from Helena here, and now he is off again for the summer! The camp is on Birch Creek not far from the Piegan Agency. The agents become frightened every now and then, and ask for troops, more because they know the Indians would be justified in giving trouble than because there is any.

An officer is sent from the post to inspect all the cattle and rations that are issued to them--yet there is much cheating. Once it was discovered that a very inferior brand of flour was being given the Indians--that sacks with the lettering and marks of the brand the government was supposed to issue to them had been slipped over the sacks which really held the inferior flour, and carefully tied. Just imagine the trouble some one had taken, but there had been a fat reward, of course, and then, where had those extra sacks come from--where had the fine flour gone?

Some one could have explained it all. I must admit, however, that anyone who has seen an Indian use flour would say that the most inferior grade would be good enough for them, to be mixed in dirty old pans, with still dirtier hands. This lack of cleanliness and appreciation of things by the Indians makes stealing from them very tempting.

The very night after the troops had gone out there was an excitement in the garrison, and, as usual, I was mixed up in it, not through my own choosing, however. I had been at Mrs. Palmer's playing whist during the evening, and about eleven o'clock two of the ladies came down to the house with me. The night was the very darkest I ever saw, and of this we spoke as we came along the walk. Almost all the lights were out in the officers' quarters, making the whole post seem dismal, and as I came in the house and locked the door, I felt as if I could never remain here until morning. Hang was in his room, of course but would be no protection whatever if anything should happen.

Major and Mrs. Stokes have not yet returned from the East, so the adjoining house is unoccupied, and on my right is Mrs. Norton, who is alone also, as Doctor Norton is in camp with the troops. She had urged me to go to her house for the night, but I did not go, because of the little card party. I ran upstairs as though something evil was at my heels and bolted my door, but did not fasten the dormer windows that run out on the roof in front. Before retiring, I put a small, lighted lantern in a closet and left the door open just a little, thinking that the streak of light would be cheering and the lantern give me a light quickly if I should need one.

Our breakfast had been very early that morning, on account of the troops marching, and I was tired and fell asleep immediately, I think. After a while I was conscious of hearing some one walking about in the room corresponding to mine in the next house, but I dozed on, thinking to myself that there was no occasion for feeling nervous, as the people next door were still up. But suddenly I remembered that the house was closed, and just then I distinctly heard some one go down the stairs. I kept very still and listened, but heard nothing more and soon went to sleep again, but again I was awakened--this time by queer noises--like some one walking on a roof. There were voices, too, as if some one was mumbling to himself.

I got the revolver and ran to the middle of the room, where I stood ready to shoot or run--it would probably have been run--in any direction. I finally got courage to look through a side window, feeling quite sure that Mrs. Norton was out with her Chinaman, looking after some choice little chickens left in her care by the doctor. But not one light was to be seen in any place, and the inky blackness was awful to look upon, so I turned away, and just as I did so, something cracked and rattled down over the shingles and then fell to the ground. But which roof those sounds came from was impossible to tell. With "goose flesh" on my arms, and each hair on my head trying to stand up, I went back to the middle of the room, and there I stood, every nerve quivering.

I had been standing there hours--or possibly it was only two short minutes--when there was one loud, piercing shriek, that made me almost scream, too. But after it was perfect silence, so I said to myself that probably it had been a cat--that I was nervous and silly. But there came another shriek, another, and still another, so expressive of terror that the blood almost froze in my veins. With teeth chattering and limbs shaking so I could hardly step, I went to a front window, and raising it I screamed, "Corporal of the guard!"

I saw the sentinel at the guardhouse stop, as though listening, in front of a window where there was a light, and seeing one of the guard gave strength to my voice, and I called again. That time the sentry took it up, and yelled, "Corporal of the guard, No. 1!" Instantly lanterns were seen coming in our direction--ever so many of the guard came, and to our gate as they saw me at a window. But I sent them on to the next house where they found poor Mrs. Norton in a white heap on the grass, quite unconscious.

The officer of the day was still up and came running to see what the commotion was about--and several other officers came. Colonel Gregory, a punctilious gentleman of the old school--who is in command just now--appeared in a striking costume, consisting of a skimpy evening gown of white, a dark military blouse over that, and a pair of military riding boots, and he carried an unsheathed saber. He is very tall and thin and his hair is very white, and I laugh now when I think of how funny he looked. But no one thought of laughing at that time. Mrs. Norton was carried in, and her house searched throughout. No one was found, but burned matches were on the floor of one or two rooms, which gave evidence that some one had been there.

In the yard back of the house a pair of heavy overshoes, also government socks, were found, so it was decided that the man had climbed up on the roof and entered the house through a dormer window that had not been fastened. No one would look for the piece of shingle that night, but in the morning I found it on the ground close to the house.

All the time the search was being made I had been in the window. Colonel Mills insisted that I should go to his house for the remainder of the night, but suggested that I put some clothes on first! It occurred to me then, for the first time, that my own costume was rather striking--not quite the proper thing for a balcony scene. Everyone was more than kind, but for a long time after Miss Mills and I had gone to her room my teeth chattered and big tears rolled down my face. Mrs. Norton declares that I was more frightened than she was, and I say, "Yes, probably, but you did not stop to listen to your own horrible screams, and then, after making us believe that you were being murdered, you quietly dropped into oblivion and forgot the whole thing."

Just as the entire garrison had become quiet once more--bang! went a gun, and then again we heard people running about to see what was the matter, and if the burglar had been caught. But it proved to have been the accidental going off of a rifle at the guardhouse. The instant that Colonel Gregory ascertained that a soldier had really been in Mrs. Norton's house, check roll-call was ordered--that is, the officer of the day went to the different barracks and ordered the first sergeants to get the men up and call the roll at once, without warning or preparation. In that way it was ascertained if the men were on their cots or out of quarters. But that night every man was "present or accounted for." At the hospital, roll-call was not necessary, but they found an attendant playing possum! A lantern held close to his face did not waken him, although it made his eyelids twitch, and they found that his heart was beating at a furious rate. His clothes had been thrown down on the floor, but socks were not to be found with them.

So he is the man suspected.. He will get his discharge in three days, and it is thought that he was after a suit of citizen clothes of the doctor's. Not so very long ago he was their striker. No one in the garrison has ever heard of an enlisted man troubling the quarters of an officer, and it is something that rarely occurs. I spend every night with Mrs. Norton now, who seems to have great confidence in my ability to protect her, as I can use a revolver so well. She calmly sleeps on, while I remain awake listening for footsteps. The fact of my having been at a military post when it was attacked by Indians--that a man was murdered directly under my window, when I heard every shot, every moan--and my having had two unpleasant experiences with horse thieves, has not been conducive to normal nerves after dark.

During all the commotion at Mrs. Norton's the night the man got in her house, her Chinaman did not appear. One of the officers went to his room in search of the burglar and found him--the Chinaman--sitting up in his bed, almost white from fear. He confessed to having heard some one in the kitchen, and when asked why he did not go out to see who it was, indignantly replied, "What for?--he go way, what for I see him?"

I feel completely upset without a good saddle horse. George is developing quite a little speed in single harness, but I do not care for driving--feel too much as though I was part of the little buggy instead of the horse. Major and Mrs. Stokes are expected soon from the East, and I shall be so glad to have my old neighbors back.

CAMP ON BIRCH CREEK, NEAR PIEGAN AGENCY, MONTANA TERRITORY, September, 1882.

BY this time you must have become accustomed to getting letters from all sorts of out-of-the-way places, therefore I will not weary you with long explanations, but simply say that Major Stokes and Faye sent for Mrs. Stokes and me to come to camp, thinking to give us a pleasant little outing. We came over with the paymaster and his escort. Major Carpenter seemed delighted to have us with him, and naturally Mrs. Stokes and I were in a humor to enjoy everything. We brought a nice little luncheon with us for everybody--that is, everyone in the ambulance. The escort of enlisted men were in a wagon back of us, but the officer in charge was with us.

The Indians have quieted down, and several of the officers have gone on leave, so with the two companies now here there are only Major Stokes, who is in command, Faye, Lieutenant Todd, and Doctor Norton. Mrs. Stokes has seen much of camp life, and enjoys it now and then as much as I do. The importance of our husbands as hosts--their many efforts to make us comfortable and entertain us--is amusing, yet very lovely. They give us no rest whatever, but as soon as we return from one little excursion another is immediately proposed. There is a little spring wagon in camp with two seats, and there are two fine mules to pull it, and with this really comfortable turn-out we drive about the country. Major Stokes is military inspector of supplies at this agency, and every Piegan knows him, so when we meet Indians, as we do often, there is always a powwow.

Three days ago we packed the little wagon with wraps and other things, and Major and Mrs. Stokes, Faye, and I started for a two days' outing at a little lake that is nestled far up on the side of a mountain. It is about ten miles from here. There is only a wagon trail leading to it, and as you go on up and up, and see nothing but rocks and trees, it would never occur to you that the steep slope of the mountain could be broken, that a lake of good size could be hidden on its side. You do not get a glimpse of it once, until you drive between the bushes and boulders that border its banks, and then it is all before you in amazing beauty. The reflections are wonderful, the high lights showing with exquisite sharpness against the dark green and purple depths of the clear, spring water.

The lake is fearfully deep--the Indians insist that in places it is bottomless--and it is teeming with trout, the most delicious mountain trout that can be caught any place, and which come up so cold one can easily fancy there is an iceberg somewhere down below. Some of these fish are fourteen or more inches long.

It was rather late in the afternoon when we reached the lake, so we hurriedly got ourselves ready for fishing, for we were thinking of a trout dinner. Four enlisted men had followed us with a wagon, in which were our tents, bedding, and boxes of provisions, and these men busied themselves at once by putting up the little tents and making preparations for dinner, and we were anxious to get enough fish for their dinner as well as our own. At a little landing we found two row-boats, and getting in these we were soon out on the lake.

If one goes to Fish Lake just for sport, and can be contented with taking in two or three fish during an all day's hard work, flies should be used always, but if one gets up there when the shadows are long and one's dinner is depending upon the fish caught, one might as well begin at once with grasshoppers--at least, that is what I did. I carried a box of fine yellow grasshoppers up with me, and I cast one over before the boat had fairly settled in position. It was seized the instant it had touched the water, and down, down went the trout, its white sides glistening through the clear water. For some reason still unaccountable I let it go, and yard after yard of line was reeled out. Perhaps, after all, it was fascination that kept me from stopping the plunge of the fish, that never stopped until the entire line was let out. That brought me to my senses, and I reeled the fish up and got a fine trout, but I also got at the same time an uncontrollable longing for land. To be in a leaky, shaky old boat over a watery, bottomless pit, as the one that trout had been down in, was more than I could calmly endure, so with undisguised disgust Faye rowed me back to the landing, where I caught quite as many fish as anyone out in the boats.

One of the enlisted men prepared dinner for us, and fried the trout in olive oil, the most perfect way of cooking mountain trout in camp. They were delicious--so fresh from the icy water that none of their delicate flavor had been lost, and were crisp and hot. We had cups of steaming coffee and all sorts of nice things from the boxes we had brought from the post. A flat boulder made a grand table for us, and of course each one had his little camp stool to sit upon. Altogether the dinner was a success, the best part of it being, perhaps, the exhilarating mountain air that gave us such fine appetites, and a keen appreciation of everything ludicrous.

While we were fishing, our tents had been arranged for us in real soldier fashion. Great bunches of long grass had been piled up on each side underneath the little mattresses, which raised the beds from the ground and made them soft and springy. Those "A" tents are very small and low, and it is impossible to stand up in one except in the center under the ridgepole, for the canvas is stretched from the ridgepole to the ground, so the only walls are back and front, where there is an opening. I had never been in one before and was rather appalled at its limitations, and neither had I ever slept on the ground before, but I had gone prepared for a rough outing. Besides, I knew that everything possible had been done to make Mrs. Stokes and me comfortable. The air was chilly up on the mountain, but we had any number of heavy blankets that kept us warm.

The night was glorious with brilliant moonlight, and the shadows of the pine trees on the white canvas were black and wonderfully clear cut, as the wind swayed the branches back and forth. The sounds of the wind were dismal, soughing and moaning as all mountain winds do, and made me think of the Bogy-man and other things. I found myself wondering if anything could crawl under the tent at my side. I wondered if snakes could have been brought in with the grass. I imagined that I heard things moving about, but all the time I was watching those exquisite shadows of the pine needles in a dreamy sort of way.

Then all at once I saw the shadow of one, then three, things as they ran up the canvas and darted this way and that like crazy things, and which could not possibly have grown on a pine tree. And almost at the same instant, something pulled my hair! With a scream and scramble I was soon out of that tent, but of course when I moved all those things had moved, too, and wholly disappeared. So I was called foolish to be afraid in a tent after the weeks and months I had lived in camp. But just then Mrs. Stokes ran from her tent, Major Stokes slowly following, and then it came out that there had been trouble over there also, and that I was not the only one in disgrace. Mrs. Stokes had seen queer shadows on her canvas, and coming to me, said, "Will says those things are squirrels!" That was too much, and I replied with indignation, "They are not squirrels at all; they are too small and their tails are not bushy."

Well, there was a time! We refused absolutely, positively, to go back to our tents until we knew all about those darting shadows. We saw that those two disagreeable men had an understanding with each other and were much inclined to laugh. It was cold and our wrappers not very warm, but Mrs. Stokes and I finally sat down upon some camp stools to await events. Then Faye, who can never resist an opportunity to tease, said to me, "You had better take care, mice might run up that stool!" So the cat was out! I have never been afraid of mice, and have always considered it very silly in women to make such a fuss over them. But those field mice were different; they seemed inclined to take the very hair from your head. Of course we could not sit up all night, and after a time had to return to our tents. I wrapped my head up securely, so my hair could not be carried off without my knowing something about it. Ever so many times during the night I heard talking and smothered laughter, and concluded that the soldiers also were having small visitors with four swift little legs.

We had more delicious trout for our breakfast; that time fried with tiny strips of breakfast bacon. The men had been out on the lake very early, and had caught several dozen beautiful fish. The dinner the evening before had been much like an ordinary picnic, but the early breakfast up on the side of a mountain, with big boulders all around, was something to remember. One can never imagine the deliciousness of the air at sunrise up on the Rocky Mountains, It has to be breathed to be appreciated.

Everyone fished during the morning and many fish were caught, every one of which were carefully packed in wet grass and brought to Birch Creek, to the unfortunates who had not been on that most delightful trip to Fish Lake. After luncheon we came down from the mountain and drove to the Piegan Agency. The heavy wagon came directly to camp, of course. There is nothing remarkable to be seen at the agency--just a number of ordinary buildings, a few huts, and Indians standing around the door of a store that resembles a post trader's. Every Indian had on a blanket, although Major Stokes said there were several among them who had been to the Carlisle School.

Along the road before we reached the agency, and for some distance after we had left it, we passed a number of little one-room log huts occupied by Indians, often with two squaws and large families of children; and at some of these we saw wretched attempts at gardening. Those Indians are provided with plows, spades, and all sorts of implements necessary for the making of proper gardens, and they are given grain and seeds to plant, but seldom are any of these things made use of. An Indian scorns work of any kind--that is only for squaws. The squaws will scratch up a bit of ground with sticks, put a little seed in, and then leave it for the sun and rain to do with as it sees fit. No more attention will be paid to it, and half the time the seed is not covered.

One old chief raised some wheat one year--I presume his squaws did all the work--and he gathered several sackfuls, which was made into flour at the agency mill. The chief was very proud. But when the next quarterly issue came around, his ration of flour was lessened just the amount his wheat had made, which decided all future farming for him! Why should he, a chief, trouble himself about learning to farm and then gain nothing in the end! There is a fine threshing machine at the agency, but the Indians will have nothing whatever to do with it. They cannot understand its workings and call it the "Devil Machine."

As we were nearing the Indian village across the creek from us, we came to a most revolting spectacle. Two or three Indians had just killed an ox, and were slashing and cutting off pieces of the almost quivering flesh, in a way that left little pools of blood in places on the side. There were two squaws with them, squatted on the ground by the dead animal, and those hideous, fiendish creatures were scooping up the warm blood with their hands and greedily drinking it! Can one imagine anything more horrible? We stopped only a second, but the scene was too repulsive to be forgotten. It makes me shiver even now when I think of the flashing of those big knives and of how each one of the savages seemed to be reveling in the smell and taste of blood! I feel that they could have slashed and cut into one of us with the same relish. It was much like seeing a murder committed.

Major Stokes told us last evening that when he returned from the East a few weeks ago, he discovered that one of a pair of beautiful pistols that had been presented to him had been stolen, that some one had gone upstairs and taken it out of the case that was in a closet corresponding to mine, so that accounts for the footsteps I heard in that house the night the man entered Mrs. Norton's house. But how did the man know just where to get a pistol? The hospital attendant who was suspected that night got his discharge a few days later. He stayed around the garrison so long that finally Colonel Gregory ordered him to leave the reservation, and just before coming from the post we heard that he had shot a man and was in jail. A very good place for him, I think.

We expect to return to the post in a few days. I would like to remain longer, but as everybody and everything will go, I can't very well. The trout fishing in Birch Creek is very good, and I often go for a little fish, sometimes alone and sometimes Mrs. Stokes will go with me. I do not go far, because of the dreadful Indians that are always wandering about. They have a small village across the creek from us, and every evening we hear their "tom-toms" as they chant and dance, and when the wind is from that direction we get a smell now and then of their dirty tepees. Major Stokes and Mrs. Stokes, also, see the noble side of Indians, but that side has always been so covered with blankets and other dirty things I have never found it!

FORT SHAW, MONTANA TERRITORY, November, 1882.

YOU will be shocked, I know, when you hear that we are houseless--homeless--that for the second time Faye has been ranked out of quarters! At Camp Supply the turn out was swift, but this time it has been long drawn out and most vexatious. Last month Major Bagley came here from Fort Maginnis, and as we had rather expected that he would select our house, we made no preparations for winter previous to his coming. But as soon as he reached the post, and many times after, he assured Faye that nothing could possibly induce him to disturb us, and said many more sweet things.

Unfortunately for us, he was ordered to return to Fort Maginnis to straighten out some of his accounts while quartermaster, and Mrs. Bagley decided to remain as she was until Major Bagley's return. He was away one month, and during that time the gardener stored away in our little cellar our vegetables for the winter, including quantities of beautiful celery that was packed in boxes. All those things had to be taken down a ladder, which made it really very hard work. Having faith in Major Bagley's word, the house was cleaned from top to bottom, much painting and calcimining having been done. All the floors were painted and hard-oiled, and everyone knows what discomfort that always brings about. But at last everything was finished, and we were about to settle down to the enjoyment of a tidy, cheerful little home when Major Bagley appeared the second time, and within two hours Faye was notified that his quarters had been selected by him!

We are at present in two rooms and a shed that happened to be unoccupied, and I feel very much as though I was in a second-hand shop. Things are piled up to the ceiling in both rooms, and the shed is full also. All of the vegetables were brought up from the cellar, of course, and as the weather has been very cold, the celery and other tender things were frozen. General and Mrs. Bourke have returned, and at once insisted upon our going to their house, but as there was nothing definite about the time when we will get our house, we said "No." We are taking our meals with them, however, and Hang is there also, teaching their new Chinaman. But I can assure you that I am more than cross. If Major Bagley had selected the house the first time he came, or even if he had said nothing at all about the quarters, much discomfort and unpleasantness would have been avoided. They will get our nice clean house, and we will get one that will require the same renovating we have just been struggling with. I have made up my mind unalterably to one thing--the nice little dinner I had expected to give Major and Mrs. Bagley later on, will be for other people, friends who have had less honey to dispose of.

The splendid hunting was interrupted by the move, too. Every October in this country we have a snowstorm that lasts usually three or four days; then the snow disappears and there is a second fall, with clear sunny days until the holidays. This year the weather remained warm and the storm was later than usual, but more severe when it did come, driving thousands of water-fowl down with a rush from the mountain streams and lakes. There is a slough around a little plateau near the post, and for a week or more this was teeming with all kinds of ducks, until it was frozen over. Sometimes we would see several species quietly feeding together in the most friendly way. Faye and I would drive the horses down in the cutter, and I would hold them while he walked on ahead hunting.

One day, when the snow was falling in big moist flakes that were so thick that the world had been narrowed down to a few yards around us, we drove to some tall bushes growing on the bank of the slough. Faye was hunting, and about to make some ducks rise when he heard a great whir over his head, and although the snow was so thick he could not see just what was there, he quickly raised his gun and fired at something he saw moving up there. To his great amazement and my horror, an immense swan dropped down and went crashing through the bushes. It was quite as white as the snow on the ground, and coming from the dense cloud of snow above, where no warning of its presence had been given, no call sounded, one felt that there was something queer about it all. With its enormous wings spread, it looked like an angel coming to the earth.

The horses thought so, also, for as soon as it touched the bushes they bolted, and for a few minutes I was doubtful if I could hold them. I was so vexed with them, too, for I wanted to see that splendid bird. They went around and around the plateau, and about all I was able to do at first was to keep them from going to the post. They finally came down to a trot, but it was some time before I could coax them to go to the bushes where the swan had fallen. I did not blame them much, for when the big bird came down, it seemed as if the very heavens were falling. We supplied our friends with ducks several days, and upon our own dinner table duck was served ten successive days. And it was just as acceptable the last day as the first, for almost every time there was a different variety, the cinnamon, perhaps, being the most rare.

Last year Hang was very contrary about the packing down of the eggs for winter use. I always put them in salt, but he thought they should be put in oats because Mrs. Pierce had packed hers that way. You know he had been Mrs. Pierce's cook two years before he came to me, and for a time he made me weary telling how she had things done. Finally I told him he must do as I said, that he was my cook now. There was peace for a while, and then came the eggs.

He would not do one thing to assist me, not even take down the eggs, and looked at Volmer with scorn when he carried down the boxes and salt. I said nothing, knowing what the result would be later on if Hang remained with me. When the cold weather came and no more fresh eggs were brought in, it was astonishing to see how many things that stubborn Chinaman could make without any eggs at all. Get them out of the salt he simply would not. Of course that could not continue forever, so one day I brought some up and left them on his table without saying a word. He used them, and after that there was no trouble, and one day in the spring he brought in to show me some beautifully beaten eggs, and said, "Velly glood--allee same flesh."

This fall when the time came to pack eggs, I said, "Hang, perhaps we had better pack the eggs in oats this year." He said, "Naw, loats no glood!" Then came my revenge. I said, "Mrs. Pierce puts hers in oats," but he became angry and said, "Yes, me know--Missee Pleese no know--slalt makee him allee same flesh." And in salt they are, and Hang packed every one. I offered to show him how to do it, but he said, "Me know--you see." It gave him such a fine opportunity to dictate to Volmer! If the striker did not bring the eggs the very moment he thought they should be in, Hang would look him up and say, "You bling leggs!" Just where these boxes of eggs are I do not know. The Chinaman has spirited them off to some place where they will not freeze. He cannot understand all this ranking out of quarters, particularly after he had put the house in perfect order. When I told him to sweep the rooms after everything had been carried out, he said: "What for? You cleanee house nuff for him; he no care," and off he went. I am inclined to think that the little man was right, after all.

There have been many changes in the garrison during the past few months, and a number of our friends have gone to other posts. Colonel and Mrs. Palmer, Major and Mrs. Pierce, and Doctor and Mrs. Gordon are no longer here. We have lost, consequently, both of our fine tenors and excellent organist, and our little choir is not good now. Some of us will miss in other ways Colonel Palmer's cultivated voice. During the summer four of us found much pleasure in practicing together the light operas, each one learning the one voice through the entire opera.

When we get settled, if we ever do, we will be at our old end of the garrison again, and our neighbors on either side will be charming people. There is some consolation in that; nevertheless, I am thinking all the time of the pretty walls and shiny floors we had to give up, and to a very poor housekeeper, too. After we get our house, it will take weeks to fix it up, and it will be impossible to take the same interest in it that we found in the first. If Faye gets his first lieutenancy in the spring, it is possible that we may have to go to another post, which will mean another move. But I am tired and cross; anyone would be under such uncomfortable conditions.

FORT ELLIS, MONTANA TERRITORY, March, 1883.

THE trip over was by far the most enjoyable of any we have taken between Fort Shaw and this post, and we were thankful enough that we could come before the snow began to melt on the mountains. Our experience with the high water two years ago was so dreadful that we do not wish to ever encounter anything of the kind again. The weather was delightful--with clear, crisp atmosphere, such as can be found only in this magnificent Territory. It was such a pleasure to have our own turn-out, too, and to be able to see the mountains and canons as we came along, without having our heads bruised by an old ambulance.

Faye had to wait almost twelve years for a first lieutenancy, and now, when at last he has been promoted, it has been the cause of our leaving dear friends and a charming garrison, and losing dear yellow Hang, also. The poor little man wept when he said good-by to me in Helena. We had just arrived and were still on the walk in front of the hotel, and of course all the small boys in the street gathered around us. I felt very much like weeping, too, and am afraid I will feel even more so when I get in my own home. Hang is going right on to China, to visit his mother one year, and I presume that his people will consider him a very rich man, with the twelve hundred dollars he has saved. He has never cut his hair, and has never worn American clothes. Even in the winter, when it has been freezing cold, he would shuffle along on the snow with his Chinese shoes.

I shall miss the pretty silk coats about the house, and his swift, almost noiseless going around. That Chinamen are not more generally employed I cannot understand, for they make such exceptional servants. They are wonderfully economical, and can easily do the work of two maids, and if once you win their confidence and their affection they are your slaves. But they are very suspicious. Once, when Bishop Tuttle was with us, he wanted a pair of boots blackened, and set them in his room where Hang could see them, and on the toe of one he put a twenty-five cent piece. Hang blackened the boots beautifully, and then put the money back precisely where it was in the first place. Then he came to me and expressed his opinion of the dear bishop. He said, "China-man no stealee--you tellee him me no stealee--he see me no takee him"--and then he insisted upon my going to see for myself that the money was on the boot. I was awfully distressed. The bishop was to remain with us several days, and no one could tell how that Chinaman might treat him, for I saw that he was deeply hurt, but it was utterly impossible to make him believe otherwise than that the quarter had been put there to test his honesty. I finally concluded to tell the bishop all about it, knowing that his experience with all kinds of human nature had been great in his travels about to his various missions, and his kindness and tact with miner, ranchman, and cowboy; he is now called by them lovingly "The Cowboy Bishop." He laughed heartily about Hang, and said, "I'll fix that," which he must have done to Hang's entire satisfaction, for he fairly danced around the bishop during the remainder of his stay with us.

Faye was made post quartermaster and commissary as soon as he reported for duty here, and is already hard at work. The post is not large, but the office of quartermaster is no sinecure. An immense amount of transportation has to be kept in readiness for the field, for which the quartermaster alone is held responsible, and this is the base of supplies for outfits for all parties--large and small--that go to the Yellowstone Park, and these are many, now that Livingstone can be reached from the north or the south by the Northern Pacific Railroad. Immense pack trains have to be fitted out for generals, congressmen, even the President himself, during the coming season. These people bring nothing whatever with them for camp, but depend entirely upon the quartermaster here to fit them out as luxuriously as possible with tents and commissaries--even to experienced camp cooks!

The railroad has been laid straight through the post, and it looks very strange to see the cars running directly back of the company quarters. The long tunnel--it is to be called the Bozeman tunnel--that has been cut through a large mountain is not quite finished, and the cars are still run up over the mountain upon a track that was laid only for temporary use. It requires two engines to pull even the passenger trains up, and when the divide is reached the "pilot" is uncoupled and run down ahead, sometimes at terrific speed. One day, since we came, the engineer lost control, and the big black thing seemed almost to drop down the grade, and the shrieking of the continuous whistle was awful to listen to; it seemed as if it was the wailing of the souls of the two men being rushed on--perhaps to their death. The thing came on and went screaming through the post and on through Bozeman, and how much farther we do not know. Some of the enlisted men got a glimpse of the engineer as he passed and say that his face was like chalk. We will not be settled for some time, as Faye is to take a set of vacant quarters on the hill until one of the officers goes on leave, when we will move to that house, as it is nicer and nearer the offices. He could have taken it when we came had he been willing to turn anyone out. It seems to me that I am waiting for a house about half the time, yet when anyone wants our house it is taken at once!

For a few days we are with Lieutenant and Mrs. Fiske. They gave us an elegant dinner last evening. Miss Burt and her brother came up from Bozeman. This evening we dine with Major and Mrs. Gillespie of the cavalry. He is in command of the post--and tomorrow we will dine with Captain and Mrs. Spencer. And so it will go on, probably, until everyone has entertained us in some delightful manner, as this is the custom in the Army when there are newcomers in the garrison. I am so sorry that these courtesies cannot be returned for a long time--until we get really settled, and then how I shall miss Hang! How I am to do without him I do not quite see.

FORT ELLIS, MONTANA TERRITORY, July, 1884.

THIS post is in a most dilapidated condition, and it--also the country about--looks as though it had been the scene of a fierce bombardment. And bombarded we certainly have been--by a terrific hailstorm that made us feel for a time that our very lives were in danger. The day had been excessively warm, with brilliant sunshine until about three o'clock, when dark clouds were seen to be coming up over the Bozeman Valley, and everyone said that perhaps at last we would have the rain that was so much needed, I have been in so many frightful storms that came from innocent-looking clouds, that now I am suspicious of anything of the kind that looks at all threatening. Consequently, I was about the first person to notice the peculiar unbroken gray that had replaced the black of a few minutes before, and the first, too, to hear the ominous roar that sounded like the fall of an immense body of water, and which could be distinctly heard fifteen minutes before the storm reached us.

While I stood at the door listening and watching, I saw several people walking about in the garrison, each one intent upon his own business and not giving the storm a thought. Still, it seemed to me that it would be just as well to have the house closed tight, and calling Hulda we soon had windows and doors closed--not one minute too soon, either, for the storm came across the mountains with hurricane speed and struck us with such force that the thick-walled log houses fairly trembled. With the wind came the hail at the very beginning, changing the hot, sultry air into the coldness of icebergs. Most of the hailstones were the size of a hen's egg, and crashed through windows and pounded against the house, making a noise that was not only deafening but paralyzing. The sounds of breaking glass came from every direction and Hulda and I rushed from one room to the other, not knowing what to do, for it was the same scene everyplace--floors covered with broken glass and hail pouring in through the openings.

The ground upon which the officers' quarters are built is a little sloping, therefore it had to be cut away, back of the kitchen, to make the floor level for a large shed where ice chest and such things are kept, and there are two or three steps at the door leading from the shed up to the ground outside. This gradual rise continues far back to the mountains, so by the time the hail and water reached us from above they had become one broad, sweeping torrent, ever increasing in volume. In one of the boards of our shed close to the steps, and just above the ground, there happened to be a large "knot" which the pressure of the water soon forced out, and the water and hailstones shot through and straight across the shed as if from a fire hose, striking the wall of the main building! The sight was most laughable--that is, at first it was; but we soon saw that the awful rush of water that was coming in through the broken sash and the remarkable hose arrangement back of the kitchen was rapidly flooding us.