CHAPTER VI.
Bridger and Carson trapping on the Black Hills—The Main Camp—The Rendezvous—Winter Quarters on the Yellow Stone—Carson with forty men in a desperate fight with the Blackfeet Indians—A Council—Sentinel posted—One Thousand Warriors come to punish the Trappers—The War Dance—The Courage of the Savages deserts them—Winter Quarters—The Spring Hunt—Another Fight with the Blackfeet—Continued Annoyances—The Trappers abandon the Country—The Rocky Mountains and Alps compared—Other Trapping Expeditions—Beaver becoming scarce—Prices of Fur reduced—Kit Carson and the Trappers give up their Vocation—The Journey to Bent's Fort—Mitchell the Mountaineer—His Eccentricities.
In the spring, Kit Carson joined Bridger. With four companions they went to the Black Hills to hunt. In the streams adjacent to that country, the beaver existed in large numbers and their success in trapping was excellent.
Soon after arriving, however, the party broke up. Kit Carson and a trapper named Owens made a hunt by themselves and were very fortunate in obtaining a large stock of the fur. After which they joined the main camp of the trappers on Green River. When the summer was pretty well advanced, the camp was broken up and all of its occupants started for the Rendezvous, this year held on the Popoayhi, a branch of the Wind River.
In the fall, most of the trappers went to the country which lies in the immediate neighborhood of the Yellow Stone River. Having trapped all the streams there, they went into winter quarters on that stream.
Nothing was heard of their sworn enemies, the Blackfeet Indians until about the middle of the winter. A party who were out hunting suddenly came upon some signs which, looking suspicious, attracted their attention. To these signs they gave a close investigation, and fully made up their minds that they were close to the stronghold of their foes. Without waiting to follow up the signs they immediately retraced their steps and informed their party in camp of their conviction that trouble was brewing. A command of forty men was instantly detailed to seek out the Indians and give them battle. Kit Carson was once more called upon to lead the brave trappers in this expedition, and everything was left to his direction and good judgment. Soon after commencing their march, the company fell in with a scouting party of the enemy in the vicinity of the spot where the fresh signs had been discovered. To this party the trappers gave chase, wisely concluding they would run for their main body. The result satisfied their anticipations. In a short time they found themselves opposed to a strong band of the Indians, when, a regular fight was instantly commenced. After quite a spirited contest, the Indians gave way and retreated, but in good order, to an island in the Yellow Stone River where they had previously erected strong barricades. Night put a stop to the scenes of the day and further action was deferred until the next morning. As soon as the light would again warrant it, the trappers plunged into the stream and made for the island, being determined to dislodge the Indians. To their great dismay the brave savages had already retreated having quietly given them the slip during the night.
The result of the battle the day before was now made apparent. It was evident that not much powder had been wasted in the action. The snow within the fortification was red with fresh blood, and from the place a bloody trail led to a hole in the ice of the stream where a large number of lifeless bodies had been sunk. There was nothing now to be done except to return to camp. Upon their arrival a council was convened to devise measures and plans for their future conduct. It was quite evident to all that the campaign had but just commenced. It was the general impression that the main village of the Blackfeet tribe had been located within a few miles. When therefore the news of their recent severe loss should be carried there by the survivors in the battle, active measures would be set on foot to seek revenge. It was the decision of the council that the trappers should act chiefly on the defensive. Measures were immediately set on foot to guard against surprise. To make everything doubly secure, none but the most trusty and well-tried men were detailed to perform sentinel duty. Near their camp there was a very lofty hill which commanded a fine view of the surrounding country. Upon this eminence they posted a sentinel throughout the day time. Their arrangements having been all determined upon and plans laid, the execution of them, to men so well skilled in frontier life, occupied but little time. Notwithstanding this celerity in their movements they had been none too quick. Soon after their preparations were fully made, the sentinel on the hill gave his signal indicating the approach of the Indians, showing that their precaution in this respect had been a wise one. The order was immediately given to erect strong breastworks. This task was so successfully accomplished, that, in a few hours, they had prepared a little fortress, which, covered with their unerring rifles, was impregnable against any force the Indians could bring against it. The advance party of the savages soon appeared in sight, but when they discovered the strength of the trappers, they halted and awaited, distant about half a mile from the breastwork, the arrival of the rest of the band. It was three days before the whole force of the Indians had arrived. They mustered about one thousand warriors. It was a sight which few white men of the American nation have looked upon. Arrayed in their fantastic war costume and bedaubed with paint, armed with lances, bows and arrows, rifles, tomahawks, knives, etc., some mounted and some on foot, they presented a wild and fearful scene of barbaric strength and fancy. Soon after their last company had reported, the frightful war-dance, peculiar to the American savages, was enacted in sight of the trappers' position. The battle songs and shouts which accompanied the dance reached the ears of the whites with fearful distinctness. Any other than hearts of oak with courage of steel would have quailed before this terrible display of savage enmity and ferocity. This dance, to men so well skilled in the ways of the Indian warrior, was a sure signal that the next day would be certain to have a fearful history for one party or the other and doubtless for both. The odds, most assuredly, were apparently greatly in favor of the savage host and against the little band of hardy mountaineers.
The following day the expectations of the trappers were realized. The Indians, at the first dawn of day, approached the breastwork, eager for the battle. They were, evidently, very much astonished at beholding the invincibility of the trappers' position. It was what they had not calculated upon and seemed to cast a perfect damper upon their courage. After firing a few shots which did no harm, and seeing that nothing could be accomplished except by a charge, they commenced a retreat. The trappers, though only sixty strong, were filled with disappointment and chagrin at the course taken by their wary foes. They began to shout to their enemies in derisive terms, hoping the taunts would exasperate and draw them into an attack. Nothing, however, would tempt them to face the danger, for they withdrew to a spot about one mile from the little fort and sat down in council. The speeches appeared to be generally opposed to risking an assault; for, after the council was dissolved, the Indians divided into two nearly equal parties and immediately marched off. One band took the direction of the Crow country and the other shaped their course in the direction from whence they came.
The trappers remained at their little fort during the winter and were not again disturbed by the Indians. Early in the following spring, they set their traps on one of the tributaries of the Missouri River and finished the hunt on the head of Lewis' Fork. They then departed for the rendezvous which was held on Green River near the mouth of Horse Creek, remaining there until the month of August and until the meeting was dissolved.
Kit Carson, on the breaking up of the camp at the rendezvous, accompanied by five other trappers, went to Fort Hall and joined a party attached to the "Northwest Fur Company." With this band he trapped to the head of Salmon River. Thence they went to Malade River, trapping down it to where it empties into the Big Snake River. They continued on up this latter river, and then, after trapping on Goose Creek and Raft River, returned to Fort Hall. Their stock of fur was quite extensive on their arrival here and, an opportunity offering to dispose of it, they sold out at a fair valuation. After recruiting their strength at the Fort for one month, Kit Carson, accompanied by most of the trappers, set out to join Bridger, who was still in the country of the Blackfeet Indians. Upon striking the Missouri River, signs of trappers were discovered, indicating that, whoever the party, or parties might be, they were now above the place where Kit and his party then were. With fourteen companions Kit started in advance of the main party to overtake, and report who these men were. Towards evening of the same day, the advance party came up with the trappers and found that they were under the charge of Joseph Gale and in the employ of Captain Wyatt.
Gale informed Carson that his command had recently been engaged in a closely contested fight with the Blackfeet Indians; that several of his party had been wounded, and one, by the name of Richard Owens, was at first thought to be mortally so; but, eventually, he had begun to recover and now was doing well.
Kit and his men remained one night with Gale. On the following day his party commenced setting their traps, intending to proceed up the river at a slow pace in order to allow the main party to overtake them. The men sent out to set their traps had not gone from the camp over two miles before they were fired upon by a party of Blackfeet Indians and compelled to retreat. They did so, succeeding in joining their comrades without the loss of a single man. The pursuit had been close and well sustained by the savages; hence, it became necessary to take instant measures in order to insure the safety of the advance. Kit Carson, who was the commander of the party, after quietly surveying the scene, gave orders for the men, with their animals, to conceal themselves, as best they could in the brush. His orders had been issued but just in time, for the concealment was barely attained, when the Indians were upon them. They were received with a well-directed volley from the rifles of the little party, which brought down several of the fierce assailants. They recoiled and retreated for a moment. The moment was golden to the few white men. Like men who were fighting for their lives but who were cool in danger, they made no mistakes in reloading their rifles. They were but just ready, however, for the second charge. This time the savages came on with unearthly yells and desperate courage, seemingly well satisfied that before them stood the men whose faithful rifle-talk they had heard before. Kit warned his men to keep cool and fire as if shooting game, a warning which was entirely unnecessary, for the result was that the savages were again driven back with a brave bleeding or dying for nearly every shot fired. It was very fortunate that Kit had chosen this position, for the engagement lasted nearly the entire day. The loss on the part of the Indians was very severe. They did everything in their power to force Kit and his party from their cover, but without avail. Every time they attempted to charge into the thicket the same deadly volley was poured in with never-failing aim, which invariably caused the savages to beat a hasty retreat. Before the next attack the trappers were ready for them with reloaded rifles. At last, as if driven to desperation, the Indians set the thicket on fire, hoping to burn out their foes. Most providentially, in this also they were foiled. After consuming the outer shrubbery, the fire died out. This was the last act attempted by the savages. Seeing the ill-success of their effort to dislodge the trappers by fire, they departed. They may have been hurried in this leave-taking somewhat by news brought in by their spies of the near approach of the main body of the trappers, which had arrived at a point about six miles distant from the battle ground. They had been prevented from hearing the reports of fire-arms by adverse winds, and knew nothing of the fight until informed by the trappers engaged in it. When sufficient time had elapsed for the Indians to be well out of sight, Kit Carson and his companions left their cover and soon found their way into the camp of their friends.
Gale was so continually annoyed by these Indians that he joined the other trappers and together they concluded to leave their country. Their combined forces, though able to cope with them so far as defensive measures were necessary, was utterly powerless to overawe them. This made it next to an impossibility for them to continue in their country with a hope of success in business. For the purpose of getting rid of them, they moved off, some distance, to a small creek where beaver were plenty. Trouble followed them, however. The first day of their arrival, one of the party was killed by the Blackfeet Indians within a short distance, only, of the camp. During the remainder of the stay made by the party on this stream, the rascals hovered around and worried them to such a degree that a trapper could not leave the camp without falling into an ambuscade and being forced to fight his way back again.
It became evident to all interested that so long as such a state of affairs existed they could not employ their time with just hope of advantage. After a short council, it was decided to abandon this region of the country and go to the North Fork of the Missouri. They soon accomplished their journey and began the business of trapping. Proceeding up the river, on the fourth day, they came, suddenly, upon a large village of Flathead and Pondrai Indians who were encamped upon its banks. These Indians were friendly to the whites. A chief of the Flatheads and several of his people joined the trappers and went with them to the Big Snake River where they established their winter quarters. The winter passed away so quietly that not a single incident occurred beyond the usual routine which the imagination of the reader can easily supply. It was quite cold that season, and the snow fell to a great depth. Everything however was arranged as best conduced to comfort, and the trappers found a pleasant and congenial exercise in hunting to supply their daily wants.
The winter seasons in the Rocky Mountains are usually fearful and severe. There, snow storms form mountains for themselves, filling up the passes for weeks, even those which are low being impracticable either for man or beast. As a set-off to all this, the scenery is most grand provided the beholder is well housed. If the case is otherwise and he be doomed to combat these terrible storms, his situation is most critical. During the summer months the lofty peaks of this mighty chain of mountains, like those of the Alps, are covered with white caps of snow. As time, the bright sun and the south wind wear out these old-lady head-gearings, no matter what be the part of the year, whether the cold days of January, or the hot days of August, the snow storms are faithful in replenishing them. It affords a contrast of the elements of the grandest conception to stand in the shade of some wavy verdure of the valley wiping off the unbidden perspiration from the brow, and, at the same instant, look upon a darkly threatening storm-cloud powdering the heads of the hoary monster mountains from its freight of flaky snow. So far these American giant mountains are unsurpassed by their Alpine neighbors of Europe. Not so in the glaciers. Throughout the great range, there are none of those beautiful glaciers to be found that can compare with those possessed by their compeers in Europe.
To the traveler whose taste has led him to wander along the "Great back bones," or vertebræ, of the two hemispheres, preparing the mind to draw truthful contrast, his pleasantest reveries will find him drawing comparisons between them. He is never tired, for the subject he cannot exhaust. When, supposing that his conclusions are at last made and that the Alps have won the highest place in favor, some forgotten scene from America will assume the form and shape of a vivid recollection, rife with scenic grandeur and sublimity, restoring the Rocky chain to its counterpoise; then, an hour of peril and fearful toil will come to memory, and, until the same mental process shall bring them again to an equilibrium, the far-famed Alps will descend in the balance. Each have their attractions, each their grandeur, each their sublimity, each their wonderful, awful silence, each their long and glorious landscape views, while, to each, the general contour is the same. In the point of altitude, the Rocky chain, as is well known to science, has the advantage; but, in historical science and lore, the famous Alps stand preeminent. True, it is from ignorance that we are led to concede this, because no man can give to the world the reminiscences of the Rocky Mountains. Their history, since the first red man entered them, must forever rest in oblivion. In scenery these mountains of the Western Continent again carry off the palm; for, they strike the observer as being more bold, wild and picturesque than their formidable rivals. To the foot-worn traveler, who has journeyed thirty or forty days upon the level prairies, seeing nothing to break the monotony of a sea of earth, the dark outlines of the Rocky Mountains, gradually coming into the view, never fail to prove a refreshing sight both to the physical and mental eye. They appear as if descending from the heavens to the surface of the earth, perpendicularly, as though intended to present a perfect barrier over which no living thing should pass. This view never fails to engross the earnest attention of the traveler, and hours of gazing only serve to enwrap the mind in deeper and more fixed contemplation. Is there not here presented a field, such as no other part of this globe can furnish, in which the explorer, the geologist, the botanist may sow and reap a rich harvest for his enterprise? As yet scientific research, on questions concerning the Rocky Mountains, is comparatively speaking, dumb. But science will soon press forward in her heavenly ordained mission, borne upon the shoulders of some youthful hero, and once more the wise book-men of the gown and slipper, who, surrounded with their tomes on tomes of learned digests, are fast approaching the hour when they had better prepare their last wills and testaments, will again be distanced in the race and doomed to argue technicalities. To the hunter, the real lover of and dependent upon the chase, there can be no comparison between the mighty Alps and the huge Rocky Mountain Barrier of the American Prairies. The one is destitute of animal life while the other bears a teeming population of the choicest game known to the swift-leaden messenger of the white man's rifle. He who wishes to behold in the same gaze, beautiful valleys, highly cultivated by a romantic and interesting race, in rich contrast with wonderfully moulded masses of earth and stone, covered with a medley of green foliage and white snow, let him go to the Alps.
In the following spring Kit Carson, accompanied by only one trapper, started out to hunt the streams in the vicinity of Big Snake River. The Utah nation of Indians inhabit this country; and, with them, Kit Carson stood on a friendly footing. The business of trapping was therefore carried on without fear of molestation. The labors of the two were crowned with great success.
Loaded with a full cargo of fur they soon after set out for Robidoux's Fort, which they reached in safety, selling out their stock to good advantage.
Kit Carson made only a short stop at this Fort. As soon as his fur was disposed of, he immediately organized a small party consisting of five trappers and made a journey to Grand River. After thoroughly trapping this river, he established himself at Brown's Hole on Green River for the winter. Early in the spring he returned with the same party to the country of the Utahs and hunted there for some time. He then went to the New Park, where they finished their trapping operations and returned to Robidoux's Fort. Here Kit again found a purchaser for his furs; but, the prices at which he was obliged to sell them, did not at all please him. Within a few years, the value of beaver fur had greatly deteriorated. This was caused by the slow demand which had gradually ruled at the great emporiums of Europe and America. The skill of the manufacturer had substituted a material for the making of hats which, while it was cheaper, pleased the great race of hat-wearers. The beaver itself was becoming scarce, owing to their being so diligently hunted. It was evident to Kit Carson and many of his mountaineer companions that their occupation was gradually becoming less profitable and that it would soon drive them into other employments. Acting upon this impression Kit Carson, accompanied by "Old Bill Williams,"[14] William New, Mitchell and Fredericks, a Frenchman, started for Bent's Fort, which was then located on the Arkansas River near a large forest of cotton wood trees, and which is, even at this day, known as the "Big Timbers." The party struck the river at a point about one hundred miles above the Fort, where, in later years, was built a settlement called St. Charles.[15]
On reaching the river, two of the party, Mitchell and New, concluded to tarry awhile in order to gratify their humor for hunting. But Kit Carson, with the remainder of the mountaineers, continued on their course, and, in three days time, were safely lodged within the walls of the Fort. One week subsequently, Mitchell and New followed their companions to the Fort, but in a sad plight. They had not suspected danger, and, consequently, had failed to guard against it. They had been surrounded by Indians and deprived of everything they possessed except their naked bodies. In this denuded state they arrived at the Fort. They were kindly received and provided for by its noble-hearted proprietors; and, for some time enjoyed a respite from all their troubles.
This mountaineer Mitchell, full of eccentricities of character, has seen the ups and downs of a frontiersman during a long and eventful life. He once joined the Camanche nation and became one of their braves.[16]
In this capacity he won great renown by the efficient and active part he took in several engagements between the tribe of his adoption and their enemies. His real object in turning Indian was to discover the locality of a gold mine which was said to have an existence in some of the mountains of northern Texas. Having convinced himself that the story of the gold mine, like many of the tales and traditions which gain currency in Indian countries, was entirely without foundation, Mitchell, with some plausible excuse, bid his red friends good bye and sought out his old comrades, the trappers, to whom he ever afterwards proved faithful. About two years since, Mitchell paid a trading visit to the States. On his route, it became necessary that he should pass over the Kansas Territory, just at a time when political difficulties there were exciting the people to the highest pitch of anxiety. The consequence was, that his views upon the all-absorbing questions at issue were frequently asked for by members of both parties. To all these queries he invariably replied, professing his ignorance of everything that appertained thereto. This caused him to be regarded as a dangerous man, and one not to be trusted. He was accordingly treated with indifference and silent reserve. This to a mountaineer, who, during a long period of years, had met every "pale face" as a brother, was insupportable usage. In all haste he finished his business, relinquished his contemplated journey through the States, and started to return to his home in New Mexico. While upon the road, he accidentally fell in with a friend; and, in reply to the question, where have you been? said:
"After a lapse of many years, I thought I should like to see the whites again; so, I was going to the States. But the sample I've seen in Kansas is enough to disgust a man with their character. They do nothing but get up war parties against one another; and, I would much rather be in an Indian country than in civilized Kansas." Mitchell is full of dry humor and commands the faculty of telling a good story, which makes him a pleasant traveling companion.
Since the time when Kit Carson first joined a trapping expedition, up to the time of his arrival at Bent's Fort, a period of eight long years, he had known no rest from arduous toil. Not even when, to the reader, he was apparently idle, buried in the deep snows of the Rocky Mountains and awaiting the return of Spring, has he rested from toil. Even then his daily life has been given up to bodily fatigue and danger, frequently in scenes which, although of thrilling interest, are too lengthy for this narrative. It has been our purpose thus far to present Kit Carson undergoing his novitiate. We regard, and we think a world will eventually regard, this extraordinary man as one raised up by Providence to fulfill a destiny of His all-wise decree. It is premature for us, at this stage of our work, to advance the argument upon which this conclusion, so irresistibly to our mind, is deduced. We have yet before us an array of historical fact and incident to relate, without parallel in the history of nations, and in which Kit Carson plays no insignificant part. For these eight years of stirring practical life, Kit Carson, relying upon his beloved rifle for his sustenance and protection, had penetrated every part of the interior of the North American Continent, setting his traps upon every river of note which rises within this interior, and tracing them from the little springs which originate them to the wide mouths from which they pour their surcharged waters into the mighty viaducts or drains of the vast prairies, and the mighty leviathan ranges of the Rocky Mountains. In this time he had wandered over a wild territory equal in its dimensions to nearly all of the empires, kingdoms and principalities of Europe combined. His journeys, as it has already appeared, were made sometimes on foot and sometimes on horseback. By themselves, his travels will be called no trivial undertakings. Each fresh adventure led him into regions where but seldom, and more frequently never, had a white man trod the soil. He was, therefore, now an explorer in every sense of that distinguishing word, with the single exception that he had not produced the results which the early culture and advantages of a scientific and classical education might have brought about. But the history of the world furnishes few examples, if indeed any, where the physical training, practical skill and knowledge of a country, as possessed by Kit Carson, have been united with scholastic lore. At all events, in the wisdom of that special Providence which was intending the gold mines of California to be consecrated to the advancement of American civilization, with its religious freedom, personal liberties and sacred literature, the novitiate of Kit Carson was decreed to be wholly of a practical nature. But while Kit Carson, with his rifle, was thus reared up in character, courage and experience, the same All-wise hand was directing the pathway of a mind, equal to accomplish His call, through all the labyrinths of Science, History and the Arts, endowing that mind with a keenness of intellectual grasp in strange contrast with the practical skill of its future guide. Those who see no God in nature, no God in events, may batter away at this proposition. The record of Kit Carson's future tasks will prove it to be an invincible stronghold of theory.
Kit Carson's mind had now become well stored with facts and localities which were destined to be made known to the world through his connections with others. It is not detracting from the merits of any one to assert that, without frontiers-men like Kit Carson, the numerous scientific expeditions which have been sent out by the United States Government to explore the far West would have returned but sorry and meagre records for their employers. After reading some of the many printed accounts which parties of a more recent date have gathered from their experience while making their way overland to the Pacific, and also the sad fate of some brave men with noble hearts who have fallen a sacrifice upon the altar of science under the fatal blows of hostile savages, attributable no doubt in some measure to bad advice, we can thus more easily form a correct judgment of the hardships which Kit Carson has been called upon to endure and the wisdom or skill which he has displayed in surmounting every obstacle on his wild and solitary pathway. The hardships which fell to the lot of the "trappers of olden time" also stand out in bolder relief. Out of the whole catalogue of labors, from which man, to gain an honest livelihood has selected, there is not one profession which presents so many formidable obstacles as that under consideration; yet, it was with difficulty that the mountaineers could wean themselves from their calling even when forced by stern necessity.