ON A STAMPEDE TO THE YELLOWSTONE.
In September, 1864, James Gibb, Jack Williams, Charles Howard, myself and a man named Wilson, left Alder Gulch on a “stampede” to the upper Yellowstone country. It was reported that a rich gold discovery had been made not far from the canyon at the Yellowstone river. Each of us procured a saddle pony, and a pack horse. We undertook to follow the base of the mountains; crossing the headwaters of the Madison, Jefferson, and Gallatin rivers. We were traveling by direction of a map and the use of a compass, but made the mistake of keeping too near the mountains, for we were delayed several times by the dense pines that grew so thick in some places that we had to chop our way through. In one small valley there was a great quantity of petrified wood, and in the bed of the creek nearly all the stones were petrifactions. I remember that we stopped on the banks of this creek for dinner. The mountains were very steep. On a cliff about one hundred yards off stood a Rocky mountain goat. At first we thought it a domestic sheep, for it was very white, bleated, and acted as if it was glad to see us. But then, as there were no settlers within several hundred miles, we could not imagine how a sheep could get to such a place. While we were discussing the matter, the animal leaped over cliffs and up the mountain as if it was on level ground, and this satisfied us all that it was a Rocky mountain goat. Not one of us had seen one previously. The next day we came to a small lake on top of a mountain, on approaching which we could see a big black bear rooting in the edge of the water, but it disappeared before we had a chance to shoot. After that we were on the watch for bear. Sometimes we would travel for several miles on a well-beaten trail made by wild animals. At one time Jack Williams was considerably in advance of the balance of the party, and on one of these game trails, at a point where the ground was a little marshy so an impression of any kind would show very plainly. Suddenly we could see Jack coming around the bend helter-skelter as fast as his pony could carry him, saying that he had seen the track of a grizzly bear coming straight towards him. I asked, “Do you mean to say that you saw a grizzly bear coming straight towards you?” “No,” said Jack, “I saw its track coming this way.” “And you went after the bear, did you?” Jack studied a minute and said: “I’ll be hanged I never thought of that, but I’ll tell you, boys, those tracks are fourteen inches long and eight inches wide; I don’t care what direction they point to, the sight of them is enough to convince a man when he is alone that he has not lost any bears.” On the seventh day we camped on the Yellowstone and stayed until the next morning. The river was not wide, but the current was very swift and the banks and the bed of the stream were very rocky. It was a fine place for trout fishing, and we caught some that weighed two pounds. We could not see any indications of travel up the river, but we went as far as the canyon. Wonderland was not known then. We concluded that the new Eldorado was not in that direction, so we turned back and went down the valley for many miles; we did some prospecting along the route. Finally we found about fifty men working in a place which had been named Emigrant Gulch. There were but few taking out gold in paying quantities; most of them were prospecting in the gulch and on the bars. We remained there several days, but found nothing that we thought would pay, although a great deal of gold has been taken out of this gulch since. Consequently we decided to go home. This time we took the lowland until we reached the emigrant trail. On our way, on the divide between the Yellowstone and Gallatin valleys, we saw about one hundred and fifty elks all in one herd, on a slope of a hill, grazing. Grass was abundant and game was plentiful; wherever we traveled we had all the trout and deer meat that we could eat. At the crossing of the Gallatin we met Mr. John Bozeman, for whom the City of Bozeman, Montana, is named, as I have [mentioned] in a previous letter. The last time that I met him was on the North Platte. There were with him three or four Indian people. He was returning from Alder Gulch, having made a successful trip with a train of emigrant wagons, of which he was guide. He brought this train, which was about one hundred and twenty wagons, from the North Platte river and by his “New Bozeman route,” east of the Big Horn mountains, to the Yellowstone valley and thence to the gold fields; now he was on his way back to organize another train for the same place and by the same route. Some time afterwards and but one day’s travel from the place where I met him last he was murdered by the treacherous Indians, for whom he had done many kind acts. Thus the brave pioneer and frontiersman John Bozeman, came to the end of his route. We had been very lucky; we saw but few Indians; the weather had been delightful, and all enjoyed the trip. We saw grand scenery, groves of lofty pines, natural parks stocked with wild deer and elks, brooks of clear water where the speckled trout played among its pebbles and had all the harbor to themselves; beautiful springs bursting forth from the mountain side, still higher the majestic peaks stood in bold relief above the mountain pines, where lay the perpetual snow; and to render man’s enjoyment complete, his lungs are filled with pure mountain air perfumed with scent of pines and herbs that grow everywhere. I know of no place like the mountains for one that loves nature in all its glory.
After twenty-nine days of “roughing it” we returned to Alder Gulch, not any richer, but wiser, men.
Robert Vaughn.
Feb. 12, 1898.