CHAPTER III.
Fort Benton was established by the American Fur Company, I think in the year 1832. That same year the first steamboat ascended the river to that locality, owned by the company. When we reached the fort it was in charge of Alexander Culbertson, a prominent employee of the fur company. Fifty-four years before this it took Lewis and Clark nearly a year to make the journey from St. Louis to the Great Falls, thirty miles above Fort Benton.
The remainder of the boat’s cargo, including the work oxen, plows, harrows, etc., intended for the Blackfoot Agency, was unloaded and the merchandise piled up on the river bank, a part being stored in the fort, while arrangements were being made by Colonel Vaughn for transportation to the Blackfoot Agency, on Sun River, the supervision of which kept the colonel very busy for several days.
The long voyage up the Missouri, together with my experience and observation, gathered along the way, had convinced me that I would not enjoy spending the whole winter at the Blackfoot Agency, so I determined to return on the boat.
Mr. Lace, who had come up with the intention of going out to the mountains, was so discouraged with the prospects of hunting under existing conditions, that he also resolved to return on the boat. There was no way of his getting back to the States at a later date in that year, except to float down the river, a mode of traveling that had no attractions for him. Mr. Holbrook, the young Harvard graduate, who was traveling merely for recreation and health, had no intention of remaining, so the boat was not entirely bereft of passengers.
On meeting Colonel Vaughn seven years afterwards, when he was living on a ranch not far from Helena, Montana, he told me of his distressing experience and narrow escape from death he had encountered in a blizzard during the winter of 1858–9. While hibernating quietly and comfortably at the Sun River Agency, a courier or voyageur, arrived from Fort Benton, bringing the intelligence that a band of Indians from over on the Marias River had come in to Fort Benton, who were in a state of destitution and threatened starvation, and that it was absolutely necessary for him to visit the fort and have rations issued to them or they would starve. He at once made preparations and started on horseback, accompanied by his interpreter, a Canadian Frenchman, long a resident of the Indian country. They started on a morning in February when the weather was clear and pleasant, with but little snow lying on the ground, not enough to hide the roadway or render riding difficult.
At midday the sky became overcast, the clouds sweeping down from the north, and they were soon enveloped by a heavy fall of snow, driven and whirled about by a terrific wind, in fact, the worst kind of a blizzard. The path was soon covered and the snow so dense and drifting rapidly soon rendered progress slow and difficult, the ravines being filled with snow when this blizzard began. Both Colonel Vaughn and the interpreter were perfectly acquainted with the route, but they lost their reckoning even before they were overtaken by darkness. The blizzard continued unabated during that night and all the following day, and all this time they wandered about completely bewildered by dense snow and severe cold. At last, during the second night, they were apprised of their locality from the sound of the Great Falls of the Missouri, and were farther from Fort Benton than when the snow first struck them. By this time, both men and horses were nearly worn out and benumbed with cold. When within hearing of the falls they stopped under an overhanging rock which sheltered them from the snow and wind, but drowsiness set in, the certain precursor of death under such circumstances, so they rode out again into the storm, the colonel taking the lead, and kept their horses moving. Calling to the interpreter he answered not, and after this the colonel himself lost consciousness, and while he retained his seat in the saddle, he ceased to exercise any control over the horse, and the horse left to his own guidance, carried the colonel back to the agency, reaching there after daylight, the morning of the third day, with him almost dead.
The men at the agency went out, lifted him down, carried him into the house and proceeded to restore him to life again, eventually their efforts proving successful.
The horse of the interpreter arrived at the agency before the colonel, and when the colonel had so far regained his faculties as to be able to talk, he told them where he had last seen the interpreter near the Great Falls. Some Indians put off in search of him, and his body was recovered by them, found sitting erect in the snow, frozen solidly—almost as solid as the granite boulders surrounding it.
The stage of water being good, the boat descended the river rapidly, running twenty miles an hour and making few landings.
At the Ree village below the mouth of the Yellowstone, a stop was made to take on a large stock of buffalo robes, a half day being required to load them, and in order to hasten the work, twenty or thirty squaws were hired to aid in transferring the bales of robes from a warehouse on a hill, two hundred yards perhaps from the river bank, to the boat. These squaws, although of comparatively small stature, to the bucks, would shoulder up or put on top of their heads a bale of robes, and walk with it, apparently, with ease, laughing and chattering with their companions as they went. All the while the bucks were sitting or standing around, smoking their pipes, looking on with composure and satisfaction. It did not comport with their notions of dignity and propriety to engage in any such ignoble work themselves, in fact the Indian bucks have never yet been able to appreciate the “nobility” of labor.
Somewhere about Fort Pierre, while the boat was running, four buffalo bulls were seen grazing quietly in the bottoms some distance from the river bank. The captain gave orders for landing the boat immediately. Tied up to the guards on the lower deck were a couple of Indian ponies being sent down to some point below, as a present from some chief, to his friends or relations (giving presents being a very general custom among them), and as was stated when the horses were brought on board, the horses were extra good buffalo horses, fleet of foot and trained to the chase.
Among the passengers at that time was a solitary Sioux warrior, going down on a visit, as he said. He had been with us for a day or two, and it had been whispered around that he was a bad character where he belonged. He was athletic and devilish-looking, but there was little about his person to distinguish him from the general run of Indian bucks and warriors. He had an ordinary bow and quiver of arrows slung over his back.
The captain ordered one of the horses brought forward quickly, and, with the aid of a dozen deck hands, the horse was put ashore. Just as soon as the buffalo were seen this Indian volunteered with great alacrity to go after them, and as yet they were grazing undisturbed.
Having had experience in killing buffalo on horseback the previous year, on the Santa Fé Trail, I suggested the propriety of giving the Indian a pair of Colt’s navy revolvers, which I had used effectively, but he declined them, signifying by signs that his bow and arrow would answer the purpose better than the pistols, and we soon discovered that he was a skillful buffalo hunter. The moment the horse was on the river bank he mounted him, bareback, without any trappings whatever save a short piece of rope tied around the horse’s neck. We stood on the hurricane deck looking on, and it immediately became apparent to us that the Indian well understood the business at hand, needing no instructions whatever from us. The horse at once showed speed and activity, the Indian, expertness in riding him, swaying and guiding him without even using the rope, galloping off, not towards the buffalo, but down the river bank, to a point where he had the wind of the game, then turning towards them, he got right up on them almost before they started. In a moment he was abreast of one of them and sent an arrow into its side half its length. Then the horse, it seemed, of his own will fell back to the rear, then sprang forward on the opposite side when a second arrow was shot into the buffalo deep enough to produce inward bleeding. The animal being mortally wounded ran only a half-mile when tumbled down to die. We had an unobstructed view of the whole proceeding from the hurricane deck of the boat. A striking performance, demonstrating the prowess of the Indian. The buffalo was butchered and brought on board, furnishing fresh meat for several days.