Keeping his decision as to the route to himself, the governor allowed the report to become current that he would pursue the way by Pend Oreille Lake, and this was universally believed, because both Indians and mountain men pronounced the Cœur d’Alene impassable from snow so late in the season. Still further to throw any hostile spies or runners, who might be lurking about, off the scent, and prevent their carrying word ahead of him, the governor, on the first day’s march, November 14, on reaching the forks, where the trails divided, took that by the Lake route, moved down it two miles, and went into camp.
At earliest daylight the next morning the train was on the march, retraced its steps to the forks, and struck rapidly down the Cœur d’Alene trail a long distance, camping at the governor’s camp ground of October 7, 8, two years before. Pushing on by forced marches, the Bitter Root River was crossed on the ice November 17, and the summit of the mountains on the 20th, where, for lack of grass, the half-famished animals had to be tied to trees all night. The snow was from three to six feet deep for a long distance, and would have proved a serious obstacle, had not a large party of Cœur d’Alene Indians crossed a fortnight before and beaten down a passable trail; but ten dead horses lying stiff and stark within a distance of eight miles showed how severely their animals had suffered in the passage.
On this trip the governor adopted the plan of starting at daylight, moving rapidly for the day’s march, and encamping early in the afternoon, thinking thus to give the animals the best opportunities for finding grass, now dry and scanty, but their only feed. The precision and rapidity with which the train packed up, started, and moved was astonishing. An hour before daylight the cooks were up and preparing breakfast; half an hour later the mules were driven up and the pack-saddles placed upon them, and the riding animals were also saddled; then breakfast, taking about twenty minutes; then the governor, watch in hand, would give the command to load, and in five minutes from the word every mule would be packed and the train moving out. The governor took great pride in this feat every morning, and the men entered into the spirit of it, strove to outdo themselves at every camp, and made the gain of half a minute in packing and starting the subject of talk and congratulation. The mules, by their perverse and vexatious conduct, arising from their invincible repugnance to water and cold, gave rise to many comical and diverting incidents. Dreading the icy water, they would hold back from plunging into the fords, and would seek a dryer way by going out on the skirt or points of ice which fringed the streams, only to have it give way and drop them into deeper water. They were continually getting off the narrow, beaten path in the snow, and floundering helpless in the fleecy material, and then half a dozen sturdy packers would unsling the packs, seize the unlucky mule by tail and ears, neck-rope and saddle, and haul him back on the trail by main strength.
CŒUR D’ALENE MISSION
The party reached good grass the day after crossing the divide, and rested another day to allow the exhausted animals to fill up and recuperate. On the 23d a long march was made, and the party encamped twenty-six miles from the Cœur d’Alene Mission. From the appearance of everything around, the governor was satisfied that no Indian spies had yet observed his march. He deemed it impracticable to move the train to the mission in one day without breaking down the animals, yet he counted on taking the Indians there by surprise, thus giving them no opportunity to waylay his party if they were hostile, and relying upon his sudden and unexpected appearance to retrieve their wavering friendship, if they were not too far committed to hostility. At daylight the next morning, with Craig, Pearson, and the four Nez Perce chiefs, Looking Glass, Spotted Eagle, Three Feathers, and Captain John, the governor pushed on, leaving directions for the train to follow and come in next day. The evening sun was just sinking behind the mountains when the seven well-armed horsemen dashed up in front of the Cœur d’Alene village, rifles in hand and presented ready to fire, and in peremptory tones demanded of the astonished Indians, as they poured out of their lodges, “Are you friends or enemies? Do you want peace or war?” The governor’s orders, impressed upon his followers, were, that at the first hostile act or word they were to fire upon the Indians, disabling as many of them as possible, and then to fall back upon and occupy the solidly built church on the knoll overlooking the village, and hold this stronghold against all attacks until the main party should arrive the next day.
The Cœur d’Alenes, thus taken by surprise, in response to this formidable summons declared that they were friends and preferred peace, and gathered around with apparently friendly greetings. In fact, however, as became more apparent at the council next day, “they were much excited, on a balance for peace or war, and a chance word might turn them either way,” as says the official journal. Some of their young men had joined the hostiles; and the rumor was current that the son of the chief, Stellam, had recently been slain by the whites. The chiefs and elders were inclined to be friendly, and wished to avoid war. On the way to the village the governor charged the four Nez Perce chiefs:—
“When you reach the Cœur d’Alenes, talk to them Blackfoot; tell them about our great council and treaty at Fort Benton; tell them that they can hunt buffalo without being disturbed by their hereditary enemies, the Blackfeet; tell them the lion and the lamb have laid down together; get their minds off their troubles here, and turn them to other subjects in which they take an interest.”
The train arrived the next day. A council was held with the Indians, and they were exhorted to continue their friendly attitude, and keep their young men from war. The emissaries of the Yakimas had left the mission only five days before the arrival of the party, having despaired of its crossing the mountains. All sorts of rumors were rife, but nothing certain except that the tribes below were in arms, blocking up the road, and that they had threatened to cut off the party, Pu-pu-mox-mox especially having made his boast that he would take Governor Stevens’s scalp. It was learned, however, that four men, who had brought up the goods for the proposed Spokane council, with the unfortunate agent Bolon, were at Antoine Plante’s, and that fifteen miners were also at that point, fearing to go below on account of the hostiles, and virtually blockaded by the Spokanes.