One bright morning they bade us good bye and the little craft started on its long voyage down the Missouri river, with all on board jolly and happy. Five days afterwards we received news of the massacre of the entire party by the devilish Sioux Indians. It was never revealed to the whites just how it was done. A half-breed Indian reported at Fort Berthold the finding of the bodies horribly mutilated, the remains of the men laying on a sand bar with their feet in the water; having been placed there by the Indians; the woman was found hanging by the chin, hooked on the limb of a tree, and the children, one on each side of the mother, hanging the same way. The Indians apparently knew nothing of the value of gold, for they had cut the buckskin sacks containing it and strewn it all about the bar. Some of it was gathered up by half-breeds and taken into Forts Randall and Berthold some time afterwards.
Jerry Potts, a half-breed Indian, who lived and worked with us at Fort Andrews, started out with a companion one day to go to Fort Gilpin, a trading post at the mouth of Milk river. The Indians got after them and they retreated and came back to the fort. Potts was carrying a powder horn which was pierced by an arrow thrown by an Indian while they were retreating, the horn saving him from being killed. Some time after this we got orders from Fort Benton to move to this post and a boat was sent to us to transport our goods down the Missouri river from Fort Andrews to Fort Gilpin. I had orders to take charge of the boat and send our horses overland in charge of two of the men. The boat crew was to be provided with firearms, including a small cannon, which were to be used in case of attack by foes. After we got the goods on board and ready to start, I found that none of the men would take the horses on account of the danger of being taken in by the Indians, so I was compelled to make the overland trip myself. I selected Chambers to accompany me, and Colonel Spikes to take charge of the boat crew and about seventeen thousand dollars’ worth of goods, and he holloed “all aboard for Gilpin,” and moved away. Chambers and myself soon after started for the same point overland. We traveled mostly by night, under cover of darkness, in order to avoid the Indians stealing our horses and killing us.
We succeeded very well until the last night out, when we left the hills about twenty miles west of Fort Gilpin to go to some timber near a point then called Dry Fork, now called Big Dry. I took the lead and Chambers brought up the rear. Soon I heard a dog barking, saw a dim light in the distance and in front of us, I concluded at once we were running into a nest of Indians. I gave Chambers the danger signal (a smothered whistle sound); this he returned, and, turning around, we retraced our route back to the hills and then made a circle around the Indians undiscovered by them, arriving at Fort Gilpin just at daybreak. While at breakfast, soon afterwards we heard the report of a cannon, and knew at once that our boat was near by; that the men on board were attacked by Indians, and that a fight was on. The very Indians that Chambers and myself avoided were at that time in hiding, waiting to capture this boatload of goods. As we subsequently learned they got these goods without much fighting, and, of course, all the blame for the loss of them was thrown on me, by the owners, just because I did not do as instructed or as was expected of me, which was to stay with the goods. It seems the party was attacked while moving along in the boat and the men ran it to land, took the cannon out and fired one shot at the redskins, then ran to the brush near by. The Indians, being satisfied with their capture of the goods, did not follow them, and they reached the fort unharmed, except a few scratches received in the scramble to get away from danger. I remember we all stood at the gate watching eagerly to learn the outcome of the fight, when, suddenly, a man came out of the willows; he was hatless and his hair stood pompadour, one foot shoeless and his clothes torn in strips. This was Colonel Spikes; following him came the six others before mentioned. They reported that a large party of Indians, probably a hundred and fifty strong, had attacked them with results as stated above. Our force was too small to go out and fight them, so we stayed in the fort until they left. We then went out and found that all there was left of seventeen thousand dollars’ worth of goods was the cannon. The Indians had taken away, and otherwise destroyed, everything else. The robes and furs were thrown into the river and the other goods carried away. Major Dawson was coming up along the river from Fort Berthold with an extra wagon train of goods bound for Fort Benton. Chambers and myself went out and met him, and Chambers informed him of the loss of the goods. Dawson looked at me and said: “Where in hell were you, John?” I explained to him that I was compelled to bring the horses, as no one else would do it. He said: “That accounts for the loss of seventeen thousand dollars’ worth of goods and not a man killed,” and he added: “If you had stayed with the goods they would not have been lost.”
We joined the men with the train here and went up the Milk river part of the way, thence to Fort Benton. This was about the last days of October, 1864. We had many Indian encounters on our way up to Benton, but reached there in safety. I stayed here about fifteen days, and then pulled out for Virginia City. This was a long trip to make, taken in the winter as it was, and at a time when the road agents were bad, a description of which would make interesting reading, but this was to be a short sketch of my first days in Montana, so I must quit.
Your friend,
John Largent.
Sun River, May 10, 1899.
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There are not many men in the state that I am more familiar with than John Largent, having been neighbors for nearly thirty years. He is six feet two inches in height, raw-boned, and of sanguine temperament. Though he is over sixty years of age, he has a good head of hair and not a single gray one. He is a Virginian by birth.
It is easy for those that know him to understand why the American Fur company depended upon and trusted so much to John Largent. It was because he was always honest, trustworthy, had good judgment to carry out the part of the work assigned him, and could stand any amount of fatigue, besides he feared nothing. In his earlier days he was a remarkably good shot with the rifle; few men equaled him in this respect. He became versed in the language of most of the northern tribes of Indians, and was feared and respected by them. It was a fact that many of the young warriors feared him because he was so remarkably quick and accurate with his old “Kentucky rifle.”