The Chinaman is going with us, for which I am most thankful, and at his request we have decided to take the white chickens. Open boxes have been made specially for them that fit on the rear ends of the wagons, and we think they will be very comfortable—but we will certainly look like emigrants when on the road. The two squirrels will go also. The men of the company have sent me three squirrels during the winter. The dearest one of all had been injured and lived only a few days. The flying squirrel is the least interesting and seems stupid. It will lie around and sleep during the entire day, but at dark will manage to get on some high perch and flop down on your shoulder or head when you least expect it and least desire it, too. The little uncanny thing cannot fly, really, but the webs enable it to take tremendous leaps. I expect that it looks absurd for us to be taking across the country a small menagerie, but the squirrels were presents, and of course had to go, and the chickens are beautiful, and give us quantities of eggs. Besides, if we had left the chickens, Charlie might not have gone, for he feeds them and watches over them as if they were his very own, and looks very cross if the striker gives them even a little corn.
Night before last an unusually pleasant dancing party was given by Captain McAndrews, when Faye and I were guests of honor. It was such a surprise to us, and so kind in Captain McAndrews to give it, for he is a bachelor. Supper was served in his own quarters, but dancing was in the vacant set adjoining. The rooms were beautifully decorated with flags, and the fragrant cedar and spruce. Mrs. Adams, wife of the commanding officer, superintended all of the arrangements and also assisted in receiving. The supper was simply delicious—as all army suppers are—and I fancy that she and other ladies of the garrison were responsible for the perfect salads and cakes.
The orchestra was from Bozeman, so the music was very good. Quite a party of young people also, many of them friends of ours, came up from Bozeman, which not only swelled the number of guests, but gave life to the dance, for in a small garrison like this the number of partners is limited. The country about here is beautiful now; the snow is melting on the mountains, and there is such a lovely green every place, I almost wish that we might have remained until fall, for along the valleys and through the canons there are grand trails for horseback riding, while Fort Shaw has nothing of the kind.
FORT SHAW, MONTANA TERRITORY, July, 1880.
WE are with the commanding officer and his wife for a few days while our house is being settled. Every room has just been painted and tinted and looks so clean and bright. The Chinaman, squirrels, and chickens are there now, and are already very much at home, and Charlie is delighted that the chickens are so much admired.
The first part of the trip over was simply awful! The morning was beautiful when we left Ellis—warm and sunny—and everybody came to see us oft. We started in fine spirits, and all went well for ten or twelve miles, when we got to the head waters of the Missouri, where the three small rivers, Gallatin, Jefferson, and Madison join and make the one big river. The drive through the forest right there is usually delightful, and although we knew that the water was high in the Gallatin by Fort Ellis, we were wholly unprepared for the scene that confronted us when we reached the valley. Not one inch of ground could be seen—nothing but the trees surrounded; by yellow, muddy water that showed quite a current.
The regular stage road has been made higher than the ground because of these July freshets, when the snow is melting on the mountains, but it was impossible to keep on it, as its many turns could not be seen, and it would not have helped much either, as the water was deep. The ambulance was in the lead, of course, so we were in all the excitement of exploring unseen ground. The driver would urge the mules, and if the leaders did not go down, very good—we would go on, perhaps a few yards. If they did go down enough to show that it was dangerous that way, he would turn them in another direction and try there. Sometimes it was necessary almost to turn around in order to keep upon the higher ground. In this way mules and drivers worked until four o'clock in the afternoon, the dirty water often coming up over the floor of the ambulance, and many times it looked as if we could not go on one step farther without being upset in the mud and water.
But at four we reached an island, where there was a small house and a stable for the stage relay horses, and not far beyond was another island where Faye decided to camp for the night. It was the only thing he could have done. He insisted upon my staying at the house, but I finally convinced him that the proper place for me was in camp, and I went on with him. The island was very small, and the highest point above water could not have been over two feet. Of course everything had to be upon it—horses, mules, wagons, drivers, Faye and I, and the two small squirrels, and the chickens also. In addition to our own traveling menagerie there were native inhabitants of that island—millions and millions of mosquitoes, each one with a sharp appetite and sharp sting. We thought that we had learned all about vicious mosquitoes while in the South, but the Southern mosquitoes are slow and caressing in comparison to those Montana things.
It was very warm, and the Chinaman felt sorry for the chickens shut up in the boxes, where fierce quarrels seemed to be going on all the time. So after he had fed them we talked it over, and decided to let them out, as they could not possibly get away from us across the big body of water. There were twenty large chickens in one big box, and twenty-seven small ones that had been brought in a long box by themselves. Well, Charlie and one of the men got the boxes down and opened them. At once the four or five mother hens clucked and scratched and kept on clucking until the little chicks were let out, when every one of them ran to its own mother, and each hen strutted off with her own brood. That is the absolute truth, but is not all. When night came the chickens went back to their boxes to roost—all but the small ones. Those were left outside with their mothers, and just before daylight Charlie raised a great commotion when he put them up for the day's trip.
When we were about ready to start in the morning, a man came over from the house and told Faye that he would pilot us through the rest of the water, that it was very dangerous in places, where the road had been built up, and if a narrow route was not carefully followed, a team would go down a bank of four or five feet. He had with him just the skeleton of a wagon—the four wheels with two or three long boards on top, drawn by two horses. So we went down in the dirty water again, that seemed to get deeper and deeper as we splashed on.