Chapter III: Up the Yellowstone River (1)

The ice broke up in the Missouri on the 17th of April, and as the rising water forced up the ice, the explosion was like distant thunder. For over thirty hours the river rushed by in a furious torrent, carrying enormous blocks of ice and roaring with a splendid sound as the masses passed along, forcing everything before them.

Soon after this the party started for Fort Union. They had very little food; some dried meat, a little bag of biscuits, some coffee, and a quart bottle of molasses to sweeten the coffee. During the march they had opportunities to secure eggs from the nests of the water-fowl, which were already laying, but even with this help, on the fifth day they were reduced to one biscuit each.

“Early next morning we were passing along the side of the river, very hungry, and making a short march with the intention of hunting in the afternoon. Pérey carried a double-barrelled gun loaded with buck-shot, and was walking near the pack-horse, Ishmah and his travail following me, when we were astonished by the sudden appearance of four antelopes climbing up the bank close at hand. Owing to the steepness of the bank, they did not come in sight of us until they had reached the summit; the moment they did so they wheeled round, but not before Pérey fired and shot one, which rolled down the bank into the water, and was carried down the stream. Boucharville and I tugged at our gun-covers; his he could not remove quickly enough; I tore away the thong of mine--which had run into a knot--with my teeth, and cocked my rifle. By this time the other three antelopes were swimming away in the broad stream; a little eddy in the rapid current turned one of them broadside to me; I fired, hitting the animal between wind and water, behind the shoulder,--its head drooped, as, floating dead on the surface of the water, it was carried down the stream after its companion. Pérey then performed a splendid feat; he ran down the side of the river far enough to enable him to undress,--which he partly did in running,--jumped into the half-frozen water, along which the blocks of ice were still at intervals coursing, striking out boldly, laid his hand on the first carcass, then with great exertion reached the second as it floated by, and brought both into the bank: this was the more fortunate, for half a minute more would have swept them past the bend into the rapids beyond where the scene occurred, and involved not only the loss of our game, but a considerable risk to this brave fellow.

“The two antelopes afforded us quite a sufficiency of food to last until our arrival at Fort Union, which we reached early on the ninth day after our departure from the Minitarées.”

At Fort Union food was scarce. The Indians camped there were afraid to venture away from the post to hunt, and immediately about the post white hunters and Indians had been hunting until all the game had been killed or driven away.

It did not take long to get together such supplies as might be had for Palliser’s party--saddles, bridles, ammunition, a couple of traps, some coffee, sugar, and salt. It was necessary to cross the Missouri River from north to south below the mouth of the Yellowstone. This done, a few miles would take them into a land of plenty, a region where game was abundant; but the crossing would be difficult. The river was high and the water still cold. While going down the river they were fortunate enough to see deer and a little later some elk, of which they secured two. Their abundance now made them think of the starvation back at Fort Union and, packing up their surplus meat, they took it back to the fort to exchange for certain much needed things. Among these things were fishhooks, awls, needles, and, most important of all, an excellent four-oared skiff.

With the boat they succeeded in taking their horses and party across the Missouri, and this done they cached their precious skiff, burying it under the willows on the south bank of the Yellowstone, close to its junction with the Missouri.

Almost at once they found themselves in a country of abundant game, and of this game the antelope chiefly impressed the author. Of them he said: “These march in line, sometimes for several miles together, and, by imitating the movements of their leader, exhibit the most striking effects, resembling military evolutions: they simultaneously whirl round their white breasts and red flanks, like the ‘Right face!--Left face!’ of a regiment on parade. Obedient to the motions of their leader, when he stops, all stop: he stamps and advances a step, the slight similar impulse waves all down along the line; he then gives a right wheel, and round go all their heads for one last look; finally, he gives the right face about, and away ‘their ranks break up like clouds before a Biscay gale.’ Stately wapiti wandered on the plain, feeding not far from the willows, to whose friendly shelter in they crashed the moment we presented ourselves to their view. And as we approached steep frowning cliffs, overhanging the river, I saw, for the first time, the wild sheep or grosse corne of the Rocky Mountains, balancing themselves, chamois-like, on the tops of most inaccessible crags, whither they had rushed on first catching sight of us.” He repeats the ancient fable that the sheep horns are so large and solid as to enable the animal to safely fling himself on his head from considerable heights.

He made a hunt for this new game and succeeded in killing a great ram, while Boucharville got two lambs, at this season much better food than the ram, for the sheep in early spring, feeding largely on the wild leeks, often tastes of this so strongly as to be almost uneatable.

In this land of plenty the party had a pleasant, easy time and lived like fighting-cocks. Palliser’s clothing by this time was falling to pieces, and he was obliged to replace it by a coat made of an elk-skin, and trousers of the hides of blacktail deer. While in camp here Indians appeared on the other side of the river, but did not discover the hunters. However, the half-breed Paquenode, who appears to have been a natural coward, was frightened nearly to death and even tried to seize the best horse in the party in order to run away.

It was now late in May, and Palliser determined to build some boats and return to Fort Union, and then, taking up the skiff buried at the mouth of the Yellowstone, to row down to the Minitarée Fort about two hundred and eighty miles. The skeletons of the boats were made of willows, and these frames covered with bull-hides. After the canoes were loaded, Palliser and Boucharville occupied the first boat and towed the second. He sent the other men back to Fort Union with the horses.

Late one evening, as they were floating down the river, they heard voices, and presently passed an Indian camp unobserved, and landing a little below it quietly returned to the vicinity and found the party to consist of two old men, an old woman, and ten young people. After a little observation, the two white men walked into the Crow camp, where the terrified children ran away screaming. The fears of the Indians were soon allayed, for Boucharville could talk Crow, and the relations between the two parties became very cordial.

While at Fort Union Palliser sent his horses by an Indian friend down to Fort Berthold, while he, with two of his three men, raised the buried skiff and started down the river. On their way an attack was threatened by a war-party of Indians, while the men were out looking for mountain sheep. Boucharville and Palliser retreated to the camp and there took up a position in the timber, and the Indians, after some threatening demonstrations, made up their minds that the position was too strong to be attacked and moved off. Later, the travellers came upon two white trappers whose arms had become useless and who were then engaged in making bows and arrows with which to kill game. These two, Gardépée and Dauphin, were competent young men and made a valuable addition to the party. It was only the next day when Palliser, while skinning a deer that he had killed, was called by Dauphin, and as he ran toward him and passed over a hill he saw a bear standing on his hind legs looking about him, while Dauphin, hidden behind a rock, was industriously snapping his useless pistol at the bear. When he saw Palliser the bear ran, but was brought back by Dauphin, who imitated the call of a buffalo-calf, so that Palliser shot at him, but only hit him in the flank.

“The bear clawed at the spot where the ball struck him, and charged up to within twenty paces of us, while I was reloading; whereupon Dauphin snapped his pistol again at him without effect. Fortunately for us, Bruin was only a two-year-old, and afraid to rush in, though large enough to have smashed both of us, defenceless as we were at the moment, and, before I could get on my percussion cap, bolted over the brow of the hill. I was still so thoroughly blown from my run over the rocky ground, that I gave up my heavy rifle to Dauphin, who threw down the useless pistol, and started in chase, I following him. He soon got a shot at the bear, who turned round, clawed at the wound, gave a savage growl, and ran into one of those little clumps which always mark a watercourse in the hilly country. I took the rifle again, loaded, and pursued the enemy right into the clump, in spite of the remonstrances of Dauphin, and, getting a sight of him first, gave him a finishing shot between eye and ear. Although he was but a young bear, only in his third year, it was with great difficulty that we could drag him out; he measured five feet four inches from rump to the muzzle, and his claws were three inches and three-quarters long. Had he been fully grown, and possessed of that amount of courage and ferocity with which the old grisly bears, both male and female, are endowed, it would certainly have fared badly with us that day. However, we skinned our prize with great satisfaction; and I was exceedingly pleased with the pluck and daring of my companion, who had been twice charged by the bear, and whose pistol had twice snapped.”

A day or two later Palliser and Dauphin had a fine buffalo-chase which led them a long way. They started in pursuit of a new-born buffalo-calf, and this is what happened:

“The cow, of course, went off, and at a tolerable pace, followed by the calf, at an astonishing rate for so young a beast. Dauphin wanted to shoot the mother, in order not only to shorten the race, but to increase our chance of rearing the calf, by cutting off the cow’s udder when dead; but that, of course, I would not allow, and ended the discussion by knocking up the muzzle of the rifle which he was using with the barrel of my gun. Then bidding him follow my example, I threw down my gun to lighten myself, calling on Boucharville to take care of the two; and drawing our belts a hole tighter, we dashed off again up hill and down dale, till at last we stretched away right out along the prairie for five or six miles. By-and-by the little calf began to shows symptoms of failing, and the cow, allowing her instinct of self-preservation to overcome her maternal attachment, made the best of her way off, and crossing some inequalities in the ground, was lost to the sight of her offspring. The little fellow then stopped; whereupon Dauphin, who possessed a wonderful facility for imitating the calls of animals, immediately began to grunt like a buffalo-cow, and to our great amusement the little beast turned about, cocked up his tail, and came galloping back to us. We then turned about, and to our great delight it frisked round us all the way into the camp. I was most anxious to get it to the fort as early as possible, for I knew that if I could do so in time, I might by chance be able to rear it on pounded Indian corn and lukewarm water.”

The next day another calf was captured out of a herd which was crossing the river, and now Palliser had a pair which he hoped he might succeed in getting to Europe--as later he did. For the first day or two of their captivity these little calves were fed on strong broth, but there were domestic cows at the fort and these reared the calves.

Shortly after Palliser’s arrival at the fort, Mr. Chardon died, having first requested Palliser to write his will. Boucharville, when sounded on the question of making another hunt, declared that he would go wherever Palliser wished to; and the next day they took the horses across the river with the skiff, intending to hunt up the Little Missouri River and to look for grizzly bears in the Turtle Mountains. On the fourth day of their journey from Fort Berthold they reached the Turtle Mountains. Here they found a war lodge, built by a party of Minitarées the year before, and took possession of it. Boucharville, an experienced man, did not like to remain in this debatable land, which was on the border of the Sioux and Minitarée territory, and began at once to figure on when they could get away.

Here bear, antelope, elk, and sheep were extremely abundant and food was always plentiful. One day while Palliser was beginning to skin an elk, just killed, Boucharville, who was about to clean his gun, was charged by a grizzly, and escaped her by dashing into a clump of rose-bushes. The bear, which had cubs with her, charged after Palliser, who was running toward his horse, which he feared would be lost if it smelt the bear. When he reached the horse he stopped and faced the bear, which also stopped and stood up, and then turned and ran. Palliser shot at the bear, but hit her too far back. She stopped to bite at her wound and gave him time to load again. Just as he was putting a copper cap on the nipple the bear rose on her hind legs, and he sent a bullet through her heart. Palliser was very lucky in that his horse did not pull back or shy, and that there was nothing to disturb his aim. When the horse was brought to the bear and the skin put upon him, he paid no attention and showed no signs of fear, a very unusual thing, for horses are commonly very much afraid even of bear-skins.

After they reached camp Dauphin started out to capture one of the young bears, but as Palliser thought the chances of finding them were very slight he did not go with him, but afterward regretted this. Dauphin killed one of the little bears and tried to take the other alive, but it fought fiercely, tearing his clothes and cutting him with its claws. Dauphin had armed himself with a stout club, but, even so, had done no more than make a draw of the battle. They now started back toward the Little Missouri and on the way saw a bear, which, to Palliser’s very great disgust, was lost by the eagerness of Dauphin.

At the Little Missouri Palliser went duck-shooting with his smooth-bore gun, but coming on the old carcass of a bull found all about it large bear tracks, some of which looked very fresh. He drew his charges of shot and rammed down a couple of balls, and followed the tracks from the prairie until at last he discovered a large bear walking slowly along. “I approached as near as I could without his perceiving me, and, lying down, tried Dauphin’s plan of imitating the lowing of a buffalo-calf. On hearing the sounds, he rose up, displaying such gigantic proportions as almost made my heart fail me; I croaked again, when, perceiving me, he came cantering slowly up. I felt that I was in for it, and that escape was impossible, even had I declined the combat; so cocking both barrels of my Trulock, I remained kneeling until he approached very near, when I suddenly stood up, upon which the bear, with an indolent roaring grunt, raised himself once more upon his hind-legs, and just at the moment when he was balancing himself previously to springing on me, I fired, aiming close under his chin: the ball passing through his throat, broke the vertebræ of the neck, and down he tumbled, floundering like a great fish out of water, till at length he reluctantly expired. I drew a long breath as I uncocked my left barrel, feeling right glad at the successful issue of the combat. I walked round and round my huge prize, surveying his proportions with great delight; but as it came on to rain, I was obliged to lose no time in skinning him. I got soaked through before I succeeded in removing his tremendous hide, and then found it too heavy for me to take away; so I was obliged to return to camp without the trophy of my conquest. It was dark when I arrived. Boucharville and Dauphin had built a most comfortable little hut of logs and bark, and having laid down the skins and spread our beds inside, with the saddles at our heads for pillows, and a good roaring fire outside at our feet, we fell heartily to our supper of elk meat and coffee.

“At daybreak next morning I repaired on horseback to the scene of my conflict with the bear, and found, to my great delight, on my arrival at the spot, that neither the skin nor the carcass of the bear had been touched by the wolves. This fact confirmed to me the testimony of the hunters and trappers of these parts, as to the great awe in which the grisly bear is held by the wolves and lesser animals of prey. If a bear kills an animal, or finds a dead carcass on the prairie, he appropriates it; and though many a hungry prowler passing by may look wistfully at the choice morsel, it is like the eastern monarch’s share,’taboo’; and even when the mountain monarch is absent, the print of his paw is a seal sufficient for its security. It cost me considerable exertion to place the reeking hide on my saddle; but I succeeded at last, and climbing on the top of it, lighted my pipe and rode back into camp. Riding along, towards noon we descried another bear, a lean, hungry-looking monster, prowling about searching for _pommes blanches_, and, to judge from his appearance, likely to afford us a pretty severe fight. In approaching him, we did not take any precaution to avoid giving him our wind, concluding, from my former experience, that he would not decline the combat; but in this instance I was mistaken, for rushing away down a ravine, he was soon lost to our view. This result, although it disappointed me at the time, yet gave me a further insight into the disposition and habits of the animal, and agreed with the accounts I had heard from many hunters and trappers with whom I had previously conversed on the subject; namely, that a grisly bear will, in most instances, run away from a man on getting his wind, unless previously wounded, or under such circumstances as to make him think that he cannot escape. Old Mr. Kipp, of Fort Union, told me that once, when on one of his numerous journeys from the States, he was in the Indian country, and had gone out of camp with his double-barrelled gun to look for ducks; he was seen from a distance by a grisly bear, who came cantering towards him. The day was fine, and the old gentleman did not know which way the wind blew, but had sufficient presence of mind to pluck off some of the woolly material of which his blue blanket capote was composed, and throw it into the air; and marking the direction of the current ran a little distance round, till he got full in the line of it, and then stood bolt upright facing Bruin, who rose on his hind-legs for a moment, surveying the tough old man, and then shuffled off, shaking his head as if he considered him meat rather too savoury for his palate.”

There were other adventures with grizzly bears and Palliser recounts a story told by Boucharville about a bear which sprang upon the leading bull of a herd of buffalo and killed it. Other accounts have been given of such battles where the bull killed the bear.

The time for Palliser’s return was now at hand, and loading his skins into boats made of buffalo-hide he floated down the river to the Minitarée post, where James Dawson the old fur trader was now in charge. A little later, boarding the Fur Company’s steamer “Martha,” he took his way with all his trophies down the river and at last reached St. Louis, and his prairie hunt was over.

The publication of his book, _The Solitary Hunter_, had unexpected results. Some time after its appearance, the British Colonial Office chose Palliser to command an expedition to explore British North America and to topographically determine the boundary line between the British possessions and the United States, from Lake Superior west to the Cascade Range. This expedition was in the field for three years or more. Papers reporting its progress were published by Parliament in 1859, and finally, about 1863, the British Government published Palliser’s detailed journal, containing reports on the geography, agricultural resources, and commercial possibilities of far western America. Later Palliser was a magistrate for County Waterford and, for a time, served as high sheriff of that county.

THE COUNCIL AT FORT BENTON

William T. Hamilton, who died in 1908, was perhaps the very last survivor of that old-time race of trappers whose courage, skill, and endurance led to the discovery, exploration, and settlement of that vast territory which we now call the Empire of the West. He left St. Louis in 1842 with a company of free trappers led by Bill Williams--famous in those days--and for many years thereafter led the wild, adventurous, and independent life of the mountain man. With the coming of the railroads and the settlement of the country that life ended, but in 1907, at the age of eighty-five, he still lived among the mountains of Montana, and still made his annual trapping trips, keeping up the habits that he had practised for sixty-five years.

“Uncle” Bill Hamilton, as he was long and affectionately known, was one of Montana’s first citizens, and the residents of that State were proud of his long experience, his wide knowledge of the life of the early days, and his extraordinary skill as a sign talker. A good mountain man is, of course, a keen observer, but Hamilton possessed also a retentive memory which enabled him in his later years to make valuable contributions to the history of the early West, which have been recorded in the proceedings of the Montana Historical Society, in his book _My Sixty Years on the Plains_, published in 1905, and in the present account, which was published in _Forest and Stream_ in the spring of 1907.

It was in the year 1855 that Governor I. I. Stephens, called by the Indians “The Short Man,” made, at the mouth of the Judith River, the first treaty with the Indians of northern Montana. The object of this treaty was to bring about a general peace among the different tribes, which had long been at war with one another. Like many efforts of this kind, the treaty had no lasting effect.

This story deals with another attempt to put an end to intertribal wars made ten years later, in 1865, by General Francis Meagher and other commissioners. William T. Hamilton was sent out to try to induce the various tribes to come into Fort Benton and attend this council. Some of the tribes were brought in and a treaty was made, but it did not last long. The account which follows is crowded with the lore of the plains--information as to the way in which in old times people travelled through a hostile country. Those who read it with attention, will learn much about the ways of Indians and the ways of those who fought Indians.

This is Bill Hamilton’s story of the Council at Fort Benton:

The Territory of Montana was organized in 1864. Green Clay Smith was appointed its first governor, and General Francis Meagher became acting governor with supervision over all Indians.

From 1863 to 1865 a chronic state of warfare existed between all the Indian tribes in the Territory. In the course of this warfare, miners and freighters had sustained serious losses in stock, and many miners and cattle-herders had been killed by the Indians. There was no protection for life and property. At the mouth of the Judith River, fifty miles east of Benton, was stationed one company of soldiers, but they were infantry and could render no protection against mounted Indians.

In 1864 I sold my place at Missoula, and moved to Benton--the head of navigation for the Missouri River steam-boats, which carried all the supplies of every description needed by the rapidly increasing population, which was rushing into the Territory attracted by fabulous reports which were constantly being circulated of the discovery of rich placer and quartz mines.

When I arrived at Benton it was almost impossible to get anything to eat, and I determined that I would start a hotel. I built a log house, hired a cook, and a negro for a waiter, gave fifty dollars for an old stove, bought and borrowed all the cups, knives, forks, and tin plates that I could get from the Fur Company employees, and opened my hotel at one dollar per meal. I bought some beef steers and slaughtered one on the river bank. Two whiskey barrels on end, with three slabs on them, set up by the hotel, formed the counter of a butcher shop, the first one opened in Chouteau County, Montana Territory. I sold beef at twenty cents and twenty-five cents per pound, disposing of from one to five beeves daily to boats and freighters. Presently I was obliged to hire a butcher and a herder.

In the spring of 1865 the governor appointed me sheriff of Chouteau County, which was about as large as the State of New York. I was also appointed deputy United States marshal. At this time the population was a mixed and motley combination. There were some trappers and free traders, good men; but the remainder were Fur Company employees, in all about forty-five men. There were some half-breeds, but none of them could be trusted except one, Joe Kipp. The Northwest Fur Company had bought out the old Fur Company and had put I. G. Baker in charge. Carroll and Steele, former clerks of the old company, had opened a store in Benton, and T. C. Power afterward opened one.

Through the Territorial delegate, the United States Government was asked to protect the inhabitants of the Territory against Indians, and the following occurrences were a part of the effort to secure such protection. A commission of three persons was appointed to consider this subject. It consisted of Acting Governor Meagher, Judge Munson, and E. W. Carpenter. They arrived at Benton early in September, and after holding a council determined that the Piegans, Bloods, Blackfeet, Gros Ventres, and Crow Indians must be brought into Benton and there induced to make a permanent and lasting peace. Runners were sent out inviting the Blackfeet tribes to come in, but no one could be found who would undertake to hunt up and bring in the Crows and Gros Ventres.

At this season the country between the Missouri and Yellowstone Rivers was usually overrun by war parties of Sioux, Cheyennes, Arapahoes, and Blackfeet, making travel exceedingly dangerous for any one, even for an experienced prairie man.

While they were trying to find a man to make this trip, some one suggested to the commissioners that I was accustomed to travelling anywhere, and they might get me. They sent, asking me to call on them at the agency, which was then at Benton, and when I came, the governor said: “Sheriff, we want a man to go and get the Crow and Gros Ventres Indians to come to Benton and meet us in council. Will you go and get them for us? We are informed that you can and do travel anywhere on the plains.”

“Yes, I do,” I answered, “if I have special business of my own to attend to.”

The governor said: “The government is anxious to bring about a general peace between these warring tribes, and also to put an end to hostilities against the white people. In a few days a steamboat load of goods will arrive, to be given as presents to all Indians who meet us in council. We want you to go and bring in these tribes.”

“But,” I said to him, “how can I go? I have to look after my eating house, the butcher shop, the duties of sheriff, and of marshal. I have two prisoners on hand and no jail in which to confine them.”

But they kept on talking and persuading until I saw that, as the Western phrase has it, they were going to get me into a jack pot. To cut it short, they prevailed on me to undertake the mission to bring in the two tribes.

I appointed a deputy to look after my business, and informed the commissioners that I must have a certain Piegan Indian as companion, and asked them to send a runner to Little Dog, the chief, with a paper, asking him to send Eagle Eye to Benton as soon as possible. In two days Eagle Eye was there. I had christened him Jack. I had once saved his life. He was a cool and brave man, and would die for me if called on to do so. He had been with me on two former trips.

I was at the agency when Jack arrived, and when I told him what was wanted of him, he gave a warwhoop that startled the commissioners. I owned two of the fastest horses in the country, and got two good horses for Jack. I selected one pack-horse, a fast one which would follow like a dog. I took some tobacco and some food with which to feast the Indians, calculating to put about seventy-five pounds on the pack-horse.

Brief digression may be interesting, and perhaps useful. I had a pair of Spanish panniers made of canvas or leather fastened together and hung over the pack-saddle. At the bottom of the off-side pannier was a four-inch strap ending in a buckle. On the nigh-side pannier a strap was fastened at the bottom, and these straps were buckled together under the horse’s belly. This held both panniers down close to the horse’s body. The panniers can be made of any size, according to the amount one wishes to pack. Mine would carry one hundred pounds of assorted goods. In case of emergency, the animal being saddled, you can place the panniers on the saddle, cinch, mount, and be off in twenty seconds.

On my best horse I kept day and night an Indian pad-saddle as a substitute for a riding-saddle. Its weight was ten pounds; the horse wore a hackamore for a bridle, and the reins were tied to the horse’s mane. This was a useful precaution in case of being surprised or jumped by Indians and not having time to saddle. Such an occurrence may take place notwithstanding all your alertness. My other horse I rode with a California saddle. Jack was similarly fitted out, except that he had two Indian pads. I had bought from Judge E. R. Munson the first Henry rifle that ever came into the Territory, paying him one hundred and six dollars in gold-dust. I had two .45 calibre Colt’s revolvers. Jack had a Sharp’s rifle, using paper caps that I had given to him some time before. I got him two .45 calibre Remington revolvers. He had also his bow and arrows.

On the second day after Jack’s arrival we packed up at the agency, a number of persons being present. The commissioners could not understand why we were so heavily armed, since we were going on a peaceful message for the government. Their questions and manifest ignorance of Indians brought a smile to the faces of many of those present, as if a war party would care what business we were engaged in, or, if they did care, would stop to ask. After a while we shook hands with our friends and started. Many of them said, “Look out, Bill, this is likely to be your last trip,” but I felt that, being armed as we were, no small party would get the “age” on us.

Jack had told me that a Piegan war party which had returned a few days before had informed him that the Crows had been camped at Medicine Springs between the Moccasin Mountains, that being about ninety miles from Benton as the crow flies, but had moved their village some days before. He also told me there were three Blackfeet war parties out after Crows and Gros Ventres. We should have to look out for them. With this information as to where to pick up the trail, it would be easy for us to locate the Crow village, unless we met hostile war parties. For about half the distance to the Medicine Springs the country is very broken.

We forded the Missouri River and struck across a rolling country to Arrow Creek, thirty miles from Benton, and reached the creek about sixteen miles east of Rattling Buttes. These buttes, at the east end of the Highwood Mountains, were in a dangerous country. It was a famous resort for war parties, and game of all kinds was abundant. Here we stood guard turn about. Because you see no Indians nor signs of any, it does not follow that none are in the neighborhood. In a hostile or semi-hostile country never trust to appearances, but be as much on the alert as if you knew the enemy was in close proximity. Have everything ready for action either to defend your position or to retreat.

The next morning before daylight we built a fire out of dry willows and made coffee. Our bill of fare was pemican and crackers. We had discovered a few buffalo feeding over a ridge near camp, and I asked Jack to try to get one with an arrow. It was too dangerous to use a gun to kill this game. If any Indians were within hearing, the report would have brought them to us in force, and might have caused us annoyance. Many a party has come to grief from the lack of such knowledge. Jack went off, and in a short time returned with the tongue, the hump, and one _dépouille_, which we used as a substitute for bread. By this time I had the stock ready to start.

After viewing the surrounding country from a high knoll and observing no signs of danger, we started. We had to pass over a broken country between Arrow Creek and Wolf Creek, a distance of some eighteen miles. As we passed over a high ridge far over to our right, perhaps seven miles, we discovered about one hundred buffalo on a stampede. We left the ridge and approached a hill that had some trees upon it, and from this point looked over the country in order to learn, if possible, what had caused the buffalo to “raise,” for buffalo seldom stampede unless they are frightened by somebody in the vicinity. We discovered nothing, and at length went on to Wolf Creek, where, on the south side of the stream, we came across foot-tracks where seven men had been walking. Jack declared that they were Blackfeet. They had passed along that morning. Evidently they had tried to find the Crow village, but had missed it. I told Jack that this war party would go to Deep Creek, and would run off some miners’ horses, and would also take in a miner if the opportunity offered. Afterward we learned that some war party about this time did kill a miner and run off a number of horses.

We passed on, travelling in draws and hollows as much as possible, until we reached Willow Creek. The antelope and a few buffalo were feeding quietly; a sure sign that no Indians were about, and that there had been none before our arrival. The grass was good, and we camped and cooked our tongue, enjoying a feast fit for the gods of old, as mountain men have it.

We did not travel fast or far, but kept our horses in prime condition, so that, if in case of any emergency we were forced to make fast time, we could get away and keep from being made bald-headed.

We were not disturbed during the night, and the next morning were off at daylight. The game still fed about us undisturbed. We crossed Plum Creek (Judith River) and discovered several pony tracks some days old. We concluded that the riders were Crows.

At length we got to the Medicine Springs between the Moccasin Mountains. The Crow village had been there, but had gone. We followed their trail until dark, and camped at the east end of the Judith Mountains. The next morning Jack went to the top of a high butte, called Black Butte, and swept the surrounding prairie with a powerful field-glass, but discovered no sign of village smokes. Now began the dangerous part of our trip. A comparatively open country lay before us. To follow the lodge-pole trail was dangerous, yet that was our only means of finding the Crow village. All Indian war parties are likely to follow the village trail of those they are after. Jack said that there were two more Blackfeet war parties out besides the one that had gone up Wolf Creek, but these parties we did not fear, because they were on foot. The result might be different if we came in contact with either Sioux, Cheyennes, or Arapahoes, who always go to war mounted, and in force. We could easily stand off eight or twelve Indians, but fifty or one hundred is a different matter. Nevertheless, we had to take the risk.

Before starting we put everything in prime order. If some persons had been present I think they would have believed that we were preparing for a desperate fight or a desperate retreat.

From our camp in the Judith Mountains the big bend of the Musselshell River and the Bull Mountains were fifty miles to the southeast. There we expected to find the Crow village, unless prevented by hostile war parties.

We travelled on at a five-mile gait, carefully watching the trail for fresh tracks, either of men or horses. If either should be discovered, we would have to act according to circumstances. In front of us and on either flank a few scattered buffalo and antelope were feeding quietly.

About 2 P. M. we reached Flat Willow Creek, just above where Box Elder Creek flows into it. Jack mounted his best horse and made a circle three-quarters of a mile in diameter, to see if he could discover any Indian signs. I went to the crest of a high ridge, and with my glasses thoroughly swept the surrounding country without seeing any sign of a village smoke, then returned to where I had left the horses. When Jack returned I could see by his look that he had discovered something that troubled him. When I asked him what he had found he pointed up the creek and said: “South of that butte are the pony tracks of a mounted party of twenty-five going toward the south end of the Bull Mountains.” If this party was hostile, it was the scouting party from some larger one, or it might be a scouting party of Crows. We had no means of knowing which. In any case, we had to do one thing first of all, and that was to let our animals refresh themselves. One of us kept a good lookout, while the other unsaddled one horse at a time, gave him a bath from the stream, dried, and resaddled him; repeating this until all the horses had had their bath. Such treatment refreshes a horse more than anything that you can do for him. All mountain men and many Indian tribes understand the secret.

We were now in the most dangerous part of the country from the Pan Handle of Texas to the British line. As an expert scout would say, “you must see all around you; must have eyes in every part of your head.”

Dick, my best horse, was possessed of almost human intelligence. I had trained him to come to me on a run at a whistle, as almost any horse can be trained with a little patience. I mounted Dick, leaving Jack with the outfit. I went up the stream and picked up the trail that he had described and followed it. As Jack had said, it led toward the south end of Bull Mountains. When I reached a ridge on which were some trees, a plateau lay before me about one mile in extent and ending in a broken country with scattering trees. I could see that the trail led directly through a cluster of pines. I got into a draw, or low place, which ran down toward the Musselshell River and followed it down, hoping or expecting to come across the trail of the village. I followed the draw until within half a mile of the river, and then rode back across the country to Jack, without discovering anything.

Flat Willow Creek rises in the southeast end of the Big Snowy Mountains. A large war-party could rendezvous there and send out small scouting parties, learn if any enemies were in the vicinity, return, and report. To a war party all human beings are considered enemies, except the members of their own party.

I asked Jack what he thought of this party, whose trail he had found. The trail was not over a day old. He replied it was either a scouting war party, or a scouting party sent out by the Crow chief to find out if any enemies were in the country. I had come to this same conclusion, for in years past I had been out with many such parties on different occasions. At all events, if this party were enemies of the Crows, they had not as yet struck either the village or the lodge-pole trail, where the village had passed along. One thing was noticeable in this section. It was in the centre of the buffalo grazing ground at this season of the year, and yet as far as a powerful glass could view the surrounding country no buffalo were to be seen; though there was abundant sign where they had been not many days before. On the other hand, we could discover no signs where a run had been made. If anybody had been chasing the buffalo many carcasses would be in evidence on every side. A few antelope were to be seen, but they were shy and constantly on the watch, a sure sign that Indians had passed over the country.

It would be very instructive to writers of Indian lore if they could travel with an expert scout or with an Indian war party and observe their actions--their caution and the care taken to avoid being seen by their enemies and to circumvent them. They learn by the actions of animals and by the flight of birds if enemies are near, or of the people who have passed through, or who may yet be hidden in, some section of the country. Jack was an expert in observations of this kind. Not the flight of a bird escaped his eagle eye.

We remained here about two and a half hours. The horses had eaten, and were refreshed and in prime condition. When we started, we followed the trail and crossed the creek, the trail leading down the creek on the south side to the forks of the Musselshell River. Here the Crow village had remained only one night. They had made a long drive the day they got to this camp. Jack said that the Crows were frightened and were getting out of the country. It had been several days since they were in this camp. As it was sundown when we reached there, we camped, and the night passed without our being disturbed. Breakfast was over before daylight next morning. We expected that the trail would follow up the river, but instead of that it went southeast, toward the divide of the Yellowstone River, and when we reached the divide the trail turned east. Jack was well acquainted with this section of the country, having been here with Piegan war parties many times. The east end of the Bull Mountains was now some five miles south of us. Like the Big Snowies, this is a great rendezvous for war parties. We followed the trail, and about one o’clock in the day Jack turned north half a mile to a spring of water of which he knew at the head of the draw.

That night we remained there, keeping a careful lookout. Nothing happened in the night, and by daylight we were off again. Jack announced that he thought that the Crows would be camped either on upper or lower Porcupine Creek. As we went along we saw a few buffalo and antelope feeding quietly, good evidence that they had not been disturbed recently. As Jack was the most expert trailer, I placed him in the lead, directing him to keep his eye on the trail, while I would keep a general lookout over the country for any sign of danger.

We had travelled some five miles when, like a flash, Jack dismounted. He followed on the trail on foot for a short distance, and returning held up five fingers and made the sign for the Blackfeet Indian. They had come up from the Musselshell River. We looked at the tracks carefully and found them fresh. The ground was sandy in places, and where an Indian’s foot had been, we discovered grains of sand still active, unsettled, dropping down from the sides of the track, a sure sign that they had been made recently. The same sign holds good with horse tracks, and this sign can be read by any person with a quick eye. Let him put his foot on some sand and then carefully and patiently watch how long it takes for the sand to become inactive. All such signs are carefully studied by mountaineers and Indians. It was plain enough to us. We went on, keeping a sharp lookout. Some three-quarters of a mile before us, we could see some timbered buttes, and the trail led directly toward these trees. There was a possibility that those five Indians might be there, and we put our tools in condition for instant use. We got within three hundred yards of the buttes, wheeled to the right, and putting our horses on a run, passed between two small hills and got beyond the first butte. Nothing was discovered. When we reached the trail, Jack dismounted, looked at it carefully, followed it a short distance and returned, saying: “The Indians are running here.” In front of us were other buttes with trees on them, and we were now satisfied that the Blackfeet had discovered us and were at this moment planning a coup by which they could take us without loss to themselves. To avoid being ambushed, we bore to the left, keeping a long rifle shot from the timber and a keen lookout. We had passed perhaps one hundred and fifty yards beyond the first butte, when two rifle shots were fired, the bullets going wide of the mark. We wheeled to the left, rode behind a small knoll and dismounted. Before we got there, three more shots were fired, the bullets coming unpleasantly close, but doing no harm.

We had no sooner dismounted than five Indians charged us with a yell, for they made sure they had us. Our outfit was a tempting bait for them. There were five good horses, to say nothing of arms and other property. If they had succeeded in taking us in, they could have returned to their people as great warriors, and would have been allowed to paint their spouses’ faces to their hearts’ content, and these would have been envied by all the other women in the village, who would not have been permitted to take part in the scalp dance that would follow.

We let the Indians come within sixty yards, and then we showed ourselves and ducked. The Indians, fool-like, all fired; and, before they could reload or draw bows and arrows, the Sharp and the Henry got to work, and in less time than it takes to write this, five Blackfeet were on their way to their happy hunting-ground. We got five Hudson’s Bay flintlock guns, bows and arrows, and other plunder. Jack scalped two of the Indians. I took a fancy war bonnet.

When we got back, Jack told the circumstances to his friends in the Piegan camp. They blamed us for killing these people, saying that as we were mounted we should have run away. If we had run, the Blackfeet would have been on our trail like a wolf on the trail of a wounded deer. They are hard to shake free from or to throw off the trail. Jack justified our acts, saying that they fired upon and charged us. If they had succeeded in getting us they would have scalped us both, they knowing him to be a Piegan. He added that any Indian, whether Blackfoot, Blood, or Piegan that shot at him and missed, must expect to be scalped. He was asked if he were not afraid that some of the friends of those we had put to sleep would revenge themselves by putting him to sleep. I could not but admire Jack when he answered them, his eyes sparkling like fire: “No! if any one or more want to try that, they all know when and where to find me.” As it was, we would not be annoyed any more by this war party.

Jack told me that West Porcupine Creek took its rise a short distance from here. Passing by this timbered country, we came to one that was open, where a few buffalo were in sight. Here the trail bore to the right, going south, and followed a ridge. Jack said that this ridge lay between East and West Porcupine Creeks. We travelled some twelve miles and, when we passed over a ridge, discovered the smoke of a village on the lower or easternmost stream. It seemed to be about eight miles distant. We moved toward it at a lively gait, but when we were about a mile from the village, we could discern a great commotion beyond or south of it. Horsemen were galloping back and forth in every direction as if in a sham battle. Jack said that he heard shots and that he believed a fight was on. We pushed ahead and got to the village, and found, sure enough, that the Sioux had attacked it, trying to run off the Crow ponies. They had been discovered by the young Crow herders and the alarm was given; and, since Indians always keep their best horses close to the village, the warriors soon mounted and rushed out to protect their herds. Nothing is more disastrous to a camp than to lose its horses, and they will fight as desperately for them as for their families.