All was excitement, and the Professor was strongly advised against the folly of going into the neutral ground between the Sioux and their hereditary enemies, the Crows. A member of either tribe might kill us, and lay our death to the other tribe.
Cope, however, reasoned that now was our time to go into this region, since every able-bodied Sioux would be with the braves under Sitting Bull, while the squaws and children would be hidden away in some fastness of the mountains. There would be no danger for us, he argued, until the Sioux were driven north by the soldiers who were gathering under Terry and Crook for the final struggle.
Judging from past experience, he concluded that we should have nearly three months in which to make our collections in peace. We would leave the field, he said, when we learned that the great chief was being so closely pressed as to be forced to seek safety in flight to the soil of Great Britain, across the Sweet Grass Mountains into Assiniboia.
His judgment proved good. It was not until November, when a heavy snowstorm had covered both the fossil fields and grass for the ponies, that Sitting Bull gave up the unequal struggle against cold and the Boys in Blue, and retreated to a more friendly soil.
At Fort Benton we found a typical frontier town of that day,—streets paved with playing-cards, and whisky for sale in open saloons and groceries. Our presence had been heralded abroad during our stay in Helena, and the Professor had difficulty in securing an outfit without paying an exorbitant price for it They knew him to be a stranger, and they “took him in.”
Finally, however, he secured four horses for the wagon. The wheelers were worn-out mustangs, which we were obliged to punish constantly to keep at work, while one of the leaders, a fine four-year-old colt, had to be knocked down half a dozen times before he could be taught not to balk and strike out with his fore feet at everyone who came within reach. The other leader, old Major, was as true as steel, and often saved the day, doing his duty nobly in spite of the miserable company in which he was forced to work.
The first night Mr. Isaac and I slept outside the town, with the four wagon horses and the three saddle ponies, which were all picketed with new rope. In the middle of the night, we heard an animal groaning, and rushed out, to find our four-year-old cut fearfully beneath the fetlocks by the ropes. We had to cut him loose, help him up, and bind his wounds. He was able to travel the next day, however, and his accident was not altogether a misfortune, as he was too sore for some time afterwards to show his natural disposition.
We drove down to the mouth of the Judith River, opposite Claggett, where an Indian trader had a store inclosed in a stockade. Here we went into camp. Across the river were the lodges of two thousand Crow Indians, who were preparing for their annual buffalo hunt in this neutral ground, where Sioux and Crow alike buried the hatchet while they hunted the game that was their principal sustenance.
Mr. Isaac, with the dread of the Redman still in his heart, insisted that we must protect the camp by standing guard over it turn and turn about, and to pacify him, the guard was mounted. I took the first turn, and Mr. Isaac the second.
The Professor did me the honor of sharing his tent with me, and we were just dozing off when we heard Mr. Isaac shout “Halt!” Looking out, we saw an Indian approaching, with his squaw behind him, the moonlight bringing out their forms in bold relief.