CHAPTER XXI.
A FIGHT WITH THE SIOUX.—HASA, THE MEXICAN BOY, KILLED.—MIXED UP WITH EMIGRANTS SOME MORE.—FOUR NEW GRAVES.—SUCCESSFUL TRADING WITH THE KIOWAS.
While at Fort Bent we bargained again to go and trade with the Kiowas, on the same terms that we were employed upon the preceding winter, and we could commence at any time we pleased.
We then started for Taos, and when we got there found Uncle Kit suffering very much with his last arrow wound. The doctor had told him that it had never healed inside and that it might be the death of him.
We remained at Taos until time to go to the fort, doing nothing in particular, but hunting a little and occasionally attending a fandango. During this time, however, unbeknown to us and the people at the fort, the Comanches and Sioux had been fighting among themselves, having been so bold as to come on to the Arkansas river and murder a number of white people. Had we known this we should not have made the attempt to go over that country. Or had Bent and Roubidoux known it they would not have asked us to go. But, somehow, it seemed always my luck not to see trouble until I was right in it.
On our arrival at the fort they were anxious to get us fitted out and started as soon as possible. Mr. Roubidoux said: "Last winter you made four trips for us; now every extra trip you make this winter we will give you fifty dollars extra, apiece," which we thought a great layout.
We started out with thirty-two pack animals and the same Mexican boy as assistant that we had the previous winter.
While passing through the Comanche country we met a young man of that tribe with whom I was on good terms, having done him a favor during the war between his tribe and the Utes, for which he felt very grateful to me. After learning where we were going, he said: "Look out for the Sioux, for they have killed lots of white people this fall near Pawnee Rock." But he did not tell us that his tribe and the Sioux were at war.
When we had passed nearly through the Comanche country we thought they were all west of us, for we saw where a large band of Indians had crossed the road going South. This we did not exactly understand, for we well knew that neither the Comanches nor Kiowas had hunt-parties out this time of year, as the buffalo were moving South, and the Indians could kill all they wanted near the villages.
It was about noon when we crossed the Indian trail and that was the general topic of conversation the balance of the day. If they had been on foot we could easily have told what tribe they belonged to by their moccasin tracks, but they all being on horseback left us to guess.
We made an early camp so that if it became necessary we could move that evening, but we built no fire.
As soon as we had decided on our camping place and while Jim and Hasa, the Mexican boy, were unpacking and arranging the camp, I rode about two miles from camp to high ground to look for Indians. When I was on the highest point I could find, I saw a little band of Indians coming from the South, and making their way for the river below us. They were about ten miles away and I could not tell by looking through my glasses just the exact number, but I could see them plain enough to tell they were not Comanches.
On my return to camp I told Jim Bridger what I had seen and he at once declared that they were Sioux, and said we were sure to have trouble with them before long.
We decided to remain there that night, and I agreed that I would stand guard while Jim and Hasa slept. I stood guard until the morning star rose, and I turned in, telling Jim to get an early breakfast and call me, which he did. The boy brought in our horses, saddled them and tied them near camp. The pack animals were also feeding near camp.
Just as we had finished our breakfast and it was getting good daylight, I cast my eyes in the direction of our horses and saw that a number of them had raised their heads and were looking off down the river as though they had seen something. I sprang to my feet and saw nine Indians coming up the river in the direction of our camp, but they were apparently sneaking along slowly. I could see at once by their movements that they did not think they were discovered yet. I said to Jim: "The Sioux are on us," and he sprang to his feet, saying, "Let us mount our horses and meet them before they get among our pack horses," which we did, at the same time telling Hasa to keep the horses together.
We started to meet them on the dead run, and I wish to say here now, that Jim Bridger, though a very brave man, was very exciteable when in an Indian fight, and as we started I said to him: "Now Jim, for God's sake keep cool this time and make every shot count."
When within about a hundred yards of the Indians, and our horses doing their best, I raised my rifle and fired, killing the leader dead. I then drew my pistol and raised the yell. About that time, from some cause, Jim's horse shied off to the right, so when we met the Indians he and I were about thirty or forty yards apart. Jim claimed that his horse scared at something in the sage brush.
Two of the Indians that seemed to be the best mounted made a break for our horses, which I discovered after I had fired two shots from my pistol. I wheeled my horse and made a rush for them, leaving Jim to take care of the other three that we had not yet killed. But the redskins had got too far the start of me, and being on good animals they beat to the pack horses, and before I got in gunshot of them they had killed both the boy and his horse. Had the poor boy kept his presence of mind he might have saved himself, but I think he got excited and did not try to get away.
I got one of them, but the other having the fastest horse, outran me and made his escape. I think he had the fastest horse I ever saw under an Indian in my life. Jim Bridger killed one of the remaining three, and the others got away. Three out of nine escaped, and had it not been for Jim's horse getting scared I don't think they would have killed our Mexican boy.
We dug a grave and buried the poor fellow as best we could under the circumstances, scalped the Indians, packed up and pulled out, leaving the poor unfortunate lad to rest on the lonely banks of the Arkansas river. The Indians we left a prey to the many wild animals that roamed the hills and valleys.
We traveled on with heavy hearts, expecting at any time to be attacked again by another band of these "noble red men," fearing that we might not be so successful the next time.
In the afternoon we came to where the Indians had had another fight with what we supposed, and which afterwards proved to have been emigrants, returning from Pike's Peak. Here we saw four fresh graves, and from the general appearance of things we concluded that the fight had been in the morning, which also proved to be the case.
We were now satisfied that the big trail we had seen the day before was made by Sioux, and that they had split up into small bands to catch small trains of emigrants.
Being satisfied that these emigrants were not far ahead of us, we made up our minds to push on and try to overhaul them, as much for our own protection as anything else.
Jim Bridger told me to take the lead and ride as fast as I wished, and he would make the pack animals keep up; also telling me when on high ground to take my glasses and look for Indians.
After traveling about two hours, putting in our best licks, we came in sight of the train. We then pushed on with new courage and overtook the emigrants just as they were going into camp for the night. I rode up and asked if they had any objections to our camping with them. "Certainly not," replied one of their crowd, "and if you can fight Indians we will be pleased to have you camp and travel with us also."
We dismounted, unpacked and turned our pack animals loose with the emigrants' stock, but picketed our saddle animals near camp. Those people told us of their fight that morning with the Indians. Just as they were hitched up and were in the act of pulling out, the Indians attacked them, about forty strong. They only had twenty- four men and the Indians killed four of their number, and theirs were the graves we had seen that morning.
They didn't have an Indian scalp, nor did they know whether or not they had killed an Indian.
Jim then told them about our fight with the nine Sioux and of losing our Mexican boy. "But," said he, "to show that we got revenge look as this collection of hair," and he produced the six Indian scalps we had taken.
Jim added that if his horse had not got scared upon making the charge, we would have got them all before they could have reached the boy.
They offered to furnish two men to look after our pack-train if we would scout for their train and travel with them as far as we were to go their route, which was about one hundred and fifty miles.
There were eight wagons in the train, composed of two and four horse teams.
When we were ready to start Jim told me to go ahead, saying: "You have a pair of glasses and your eyes are better than mine, and I will bring up the rear, so there will be no danger of a surprise party."
This being agreed to, I started ahead of the train and rode about five miles in advance all the time, keeping my eyes peeled for Indians. In the forenoon I saw a small band of the savages, but they were a long way off and were traveling in the same direction we were. I was sure they could not see us, for I could only see them faintly through my glasses.
That evening we made an early camp at a place we named Horse-shoe Bend, and I am told that the place is mentioned yet by that name. It is a big bend in the Arkansas river almost encircling two or three hundred acres, and where we camped it was not more than a hundred yards across from one turn of the river to the other.
That night we drove all our horses into the bend and did not have to guard them or keep out a camp guard. I remained out in the hills, about three miles from camp, until dark, selecting a high point and with my glasses watching all over the country for Indians. The boys were all well pleased when I returned and told them there were no red-skins anywhere near, and that they all could lie down and sleep that night. They turned in early.
The next morning we broke camp early, and about eleven o'clock came on to four emigrant wagons returning from Pike's Peak. The Indians had stolen the horses.
There were sixteen men in the party and they had been there three days and had not been two miles away from camp. They made some kind of arrangement with the train we were with to haul their things to St. Joe, Missouri, and left their four wagons standing by the roadside.
We had no more trouble while with this train, and everything moved along nicely.
When we were near Pawnee Rock, where we were to leave the train, and some twenty miles from the Kiowa village, I met about thirty Kiowa Indians going out to run the buffalo near there. Of course they all knew me, and after shaking hands we stopped to await the arrival of the train. When it came in sight and the men saw the Indians all around me they thought I had been taken prisoner. They at once corralled their wagons for a fight, and all the talking Jim Bridger could do would not make them believe otherwise, until he rode out to where we were. When he told me this I thought to have a little sport with the boys before leaving the train, and I proposed to Jim that we start to the wagons with the Indians riding on either side of us, so as to make it appear they had taken both of us prisoner. But Jim thought it would not do, as they were so excited they would shoot at our Indians before we were near the wagons. So we rode to the train and told the emigrants that these Indians would not molest them, and that they were my friends.
When I told the Indians the cause of their corralling their wagons, they all had a hearty laugh and called the men squaws. The Kiowas said that their people would be glad to see us at their village, and that they had plenty of robes to trade for beads, rings and blankets. So here we bade the emigrants good-bye, they keeping the Sante Fe trail east, while we turned due south, and in company with the thirty Kiowas, rode that evening to their own village. Chief Blackbird met us at the outer edge of the village and invited us to his wick-i-up. We told him that we had come to trade with his people, and that in four days we would be ready for business.
Jim Bridger and I had talked the matter over concerning this tribe and the Sioux, for we well knew that if they and the Sioux were on friendly terms we would get home safe, if not, we would have a hard time of it.
I proposed to Jim that we make Blackbird a present of something, and while he was in the best of humor I would ask him the question. Jim thought it a capital idea, and before supper I went to our cargo and got three rings and three strings of beads. After supper I gave one string of beads and one ring to Blackbird, one to his wife and one to his eldest daughter, who was about grown. We then sat down and had a social smoke and a friendly chat. By this time Blackbird was beginning to think I was a pretty good fellow, so I asked him if the Sioux were good Indians. He said: "Yes, the Sioux are my friends."
That was all I wanted to know, and I did not ask him any more questions, nor did I tell him of our trouble with the nine Sioux. I told him we wanted to hire four young men from his tribe to go to the fort with us. He said: "All right, I'll see tomorrow."
Our idea in wanting the young Kiowas along, after finding they were on good terms with the Sioux, was that we knew when we were in company with the Kiowas the Sioux would not give us any trouble.
The day following, in the afternoon, Blackbird came to us and told us that there were four young men who wanted to go with us and asked how long we would be gone. We told him we might be gone one moon, perhaps not so long. He wanted to know what Indian country we would pass through. I told him none but the Comanches, for they were terribly afraid of Navajoes. We assured him that we would not pass through their country.
On the day appointed for the sale of our goods, the robes came in by the hundreds. I never saw anything equal it.
We conducted our sale something like an auction. I would hold up a string of beads and show them to the crowd; an Indian would step forward and offer a robe for two strings of beads. Another would offer a robe for one string. This was our idea for appointing a certain day for trading with them, for the more Indians present the better prices we were able to get for our goods.
We went there this time with about the amount of goods we had always taken before to trade for a train load of robes, and we sold our entire stock the first day. We could have traded ten times that amount. Moreover, we got about one-half more than we could pack at one trip.
We knew before we started in to sell that there was a greater number of robes in the village than at any time we had visited it before, as we had been pretty well over the village, and I had never seen the like of robes and dry buffalo meat before, nor have I since. Every wick-i-up was hanging full. The Indians said it had been the best season for buffalo they had seen for years.
I never saw people more busy than the squaws were. All were dressing buffalo hides, and every family had from three to one dozen robes, and this was the best day's sale we ever had, as it seemed that the Indians were crazy for the rings and beads.
I just mention these facts to show the reader how the people took advantage of those Indians, for at that time they did not know the value of money and had no use for it except as ornaments. They would pay a big price for a half dollar, but every one they got hold of they would hammer out flat, punch two holes through it and put it on a string; then the chief or some of his family would wear them on their backs or fasten them to their hair and let them hang down their backs. I have seen strings of flattened out half dollars two feet long worn by the chief or some member of his family.
When we went to pack up we could only get two-thirds of our robes on the animals so we left the remainder in charge of Blackbird, and he agreed to look after them until we returned. I told him if he would take good care of them I would bring him a big butcher knife when I came back.
So we started for Bent's Fort accompanied by four young Kiowas. We had loaded our horses unusually heavy this trip, each animal packing thirty robes.
Two of the Indians rode in front of the pack-train with me and the other two behind with Jim. Our idea in traveling that way was that in case we should meet a band of Sioux, these young Indians would tell them we were their friends, and no matter how bitter they felt toward us they would pass on.
We traveled three days before we saw any Sioux. It was our custom to always stop and unpack and let our horses rest and feed about an hour.
That day we had just unpacked and turned our horses loose to feed and were ready to eat a cold lunch, when we looked up the ridge and saw twenty Sioux Indians coming down the ridge in the direction of our camp. I told one of the Indians that we had better go and meet them. He said he would go and for me to stay in camp. I told him to tell them to come down to camp and get something to eat. So he started off in a trot to meet them, and when he came up to them he stood and talked with them for some time, after which they turned and rode off in another direction. When the Indian boy returned I asked him why they did not come down to camp and have some dinner. He said they had plenty to eat and were in a hurry.
Jim Bridger said to me in our own language: "If we had not had those young Kiowas with us by this time we would have been in a hurry, too." These were the last Sioux we saw on the whole trip.
When we returned to the fort and reported our troubles to Col. Bent and Mr. Roubidoux, they felt very bad over the loss of the Mexican boy, Hasa, but they complimented us on the way we had managed. They asked me what I had agreed to pay the Indians. I told them I had not made any bargain whatever, and that we had not agreed to pay them anything, nor had they asked it. But we thought that under the circumstances we did not consider it safe to attempt to make another trip that fall or winter without an escort of that kind, and we couldn't expect those Indians to make the trips free of charge. Col. Bent told me to make my own bargain with them, and he would pay the bill whatever it might be.
This was the first time these young Indians had ever been in civilization, so I took them around the place and took particular pains to show them everything. When we had been all around and I had showed them everything out doors, I took them into the kitchen of the hotel. When they saw the cook getting supper on the stove they said it was no good, for they could not see the fire and they did not understand how cooking could be done without it.
After they had seen all there was to be seen I took them in where the two proprietors were, and after telling them that they would hire them all winter, providing they did not ask too much, I asked them what they were going to charge us for the trip they had already made.
The most intelligent one spoke up and said: "Give me one string of beads and one butcher knife for the trip already made, and give me one butcher knife for the next trip." I then asked the others if they were satisfied with that, and they said they were; so I paid them off by giving them a butcher knife that cost about fifty cents in St. Louis and one string of beads that would perhaps cost ten cents. They thought they had been well paid for their trouble, and I could see that they had not expected so much. This was no doubt their first experience in hiring out.
The next morning Col. Bent and Mr. Roubidoux said to Jim and I: "Now boys, we will make you a present," telling us that their horses were in the corrall, and for us to go and pick out a saddle horse apiece. They told us that all the horses in the corrall were theirs, and we might take our choice, and that we could turn our other horses into the herd for as long as we liked.
I selected a black horse and saddled him, and he seemed to be quiet and gentle.
There were some trappers at the fort who were going to South Park to trap the following winter. When I led the horse out to get on him they asked if it was mine. "Yes," I said. They asked what price I had set on him, and I said one hundred dollars. They said they would give me that for him if I would wait for my money until spring when they returned from South Park. I asked them if they were going to trap for Col. Bent and Mr. Roubidoux, and they said they were. We then walked into the store and I asked Col. Bent and Mr. Roubidoux if they would go these men's security for one hundred dollars. They said they would, and I told the trappers the horse was theirs. Mr. Roubidoux asked me if it was the horse he had given me. I told him it was and he said: "You did well, for I bought that horse of an emigrant last summer and have never been able to get any money out of him. I think you will have to take a lot of my horses to sell on commission, for I see right now you can beat me selling horses all hollow."
We remained at the Fort three days this time, after which we rigged up and started for the Kiowa nation again with more goods to trade for buffalo robes. We made the trip in eleven days, being the quickest we had yet made over the road.
We found the chief in an excellent humor, and he was as well pleased over his new butcher knife as a boy would be over his first pair of red topped boots.
We found the Indians anxious to trade robes for our trinkets and we had no trouble in getting a load and more than we could pack again. We made five trips that fall and winter with the very best success, keeping those same four Indians with us all winter.