From now on the pioneer had an adventurous career, and, although away from his home for months at a time, was always devoted to his Blackfoot bride, although he often had passages at arms with her kinsmen. Not long after his marriage he was in the Medicine Bow Mountains, with a party of trappers, when they were surrounded by hundreds of the Blackfeet. Crying to them to surrender, the savage warriors circled about upon their ponies, screeching like so many devils, for they were sure that they had the white men cornered. It looked dark for the adventurous trappers.
“We must fight desperately, men,” cried out the gallant Jim. “And must make our way towards the mountains near the Yellowstone. There we can stand these pesky varmints off from behind the boulders. But now we must break through their circle. Are you all ready? Then—come on.”
The trappers cheered as Bridger led a charge against the wild riders of the plains, who scattered before the resolute attack. By alternately fighting and retreating, the frontiersmen gradually made their way towards the distant hills, and—although a few were badly wounded—at length they reached the protection of some giant boulders which afforded them excellent protection against the bullets and arrows of the red men. Seeing that it was now impossible to get them, the savages fired a parting volley and retired. The last shot proved to be an unlucky one for Jim Bridger’s best friend—a man named Milton Sublette—as a ball from an Indian rifle struck him in the ankle and tore through both flesh and bone.
Stanching the flow of blood as best they could, the trappers carried their wounded companion away with them upon a Mackinaw blanket, slung between two of the pack-animals. His leg was amputated with the aid of a beaver knife hacked into a saw, and in spite of the fact that they possessed no chloroform, ether, or other anesthetic, the patient bore everything with stoical indifference. His life was saved, and—strange as it may seem—upon his arrival at Saint Louis he submitted to a second operation in order to obtain a better-looking stump, and was back again in his old haunts within six months: trapping, fishing, and travelling with as much joy in living as before. Such was the spirit and energy of these old men of the mountains.
Bridger was later engaged in piloting emigrant trains across the prairie, in the vicinity of the Republican River, where Sandy Forsyth had his great battle with Roman Nose some years later. With him was a scout called Jim Beckwith, who has left the following account of a tight, little brush which was indulged in by two bands of Sioux and Pawnee warriors, just after the trappers had driven away a force of about fifty Pawnees who had attempted to run off their horses.
“I seen that the Pawnees would soon be after us again,” said the gallant Beckwith, “and I knowed that the Sioux would do the same thing. So I saw that we’d have about a thousand redskins after us, and we wouldn’t be a taste for them. I seen that this wouldn’t do, so I says to Jim Bridger, says I, ‘Jim, what are we goin’ ter do?’ ‘Give it up,’ said Jim, says he, ‘Fight till the reds down us, I reckon, and then turn up our toes like men.’ All this time—bless your soul—them pilgrims what we wuz a-guidin’, wuz in the wagons cryin’. It wuz awful.
“Wall, I jest made up my mind, sir, that I didn’t intend tew give my heart tew no Injun jest then, so I callates about whar th’ two parties of red devils would meet. When we got thar, we drove over a raise in th’ plain and jes’ waited fur ’em. In about two hours I seen th’ dust raisin’ in th’ East in er gret, big cloud. ‘Them’s Pawnees,’ says I, ‘by th’ tarnal prophet.’ Then I looked intew th’ West, and thar th’ dust wuz raisin’, too. ‘Them’s Sioux,’ says I, ‘an’ th’ Devil take ’em. I hev seen pleasanter sights.’ Wall, after waitin’ some time th’ Injuns seen each other, an’ of all th’ cussed yellin’ you ever heard, it wuz thar. I jes’ laid back an’ laughed, while Bridger done some tall chucklin’ too, when them two bands got together. It was lively times, yew bet.
“Th’ Injuns didn’t have many guns in them days, but you kin jest rest assured that they used their arrers fur what wuz in ’em. Thar they went circlin’ aroun’ each other, bendin’ under their hosses’ necks, an’ lettin’ th’ arrers fly. At one time th’ air wuz near so full uv arrers thet it made a cloud, shettin’ out th’ sun. Their ponies got stuck full uv ’em. Their dogs wuz full uv ’em, an’ every Injun in th’ gang had er lot uv ’em stickin’ inter him. I seed a big, fat feller ridin’ off with two uv ’em stickin’ into th’ seat uv his buckskins, an’ it reminded me so uv er big pincushion, thet I near died uv laughin’. Then they begun tew run. They run this way, an’ they run that, and—by Gravy—I believe thet some uv them Injuns be still runnin’ from one another. By Gum, they wuz so busy fightin’ each other, thet they left us plum alone.”
This was certainly a laughable incident, but a bit later occurred another episode which was not quite so amusing for the daring and adventurous Jim Bridger.
About six months after the fight upon the Republican, with five companions, the trapper was travelling near the Platte River. The plainsmen were in search of buffalo and had seen a fair sized herd when a band of Sioux Indians appeared upon one of the rolling bluffs. The trappers sought cover, for they expected an attack, and they were not far from being wrong, for the red men immediately made after them; circled about them upon their ponies, and fired their rifles at long range.