Pike found but one American living in Santa Fé. This man had been a trapper, accustomed to the wild and free life of the plains, and this was the story he told.
James Pursley was a Kentuckian who had gone in 1799 to St. Louis, lured by the thirst for adventure for which men of his class willingly give up all the comforts of civilized life. He was one of those men who, like Daniel Boone,[1] thought it time to move on when he could no longer fell a tree so that its top would lie within a few yards of the door of his cabin.
So in advance of the explorer comes the trapper of the West, who, while flying from civilization, is actually paving the way for its coming in spite of himself.
In 1802, with two companions, Pursley left St. Louis, and travelled west to the head of the Osage, where they made a successful hunt. From thence the trappers started for the White River of Arkansas, meaning to go down to New Orleans with their peltries, but while getting ready for the long voyage the Indians stole their horses from them.
The hunters pursued the robbers to their villages. The horses were there, but the Indians would not give them up. Seeing an Indian riding on his horse, Pursley ran up to him, and with his hunting knife ripped open the horse's bowels. The incensed savage instantly ran to his lodge for his gun. It missed fire. Pursley then sprang upon him with his drawn knife in his hand. The Indian took refuge in a lodge filled with children and squaws. The chiefs were so struck with the bravery of the "mad Americans," as they called them, that they gave them back their horses again.
Pursley and his comrades then returned to the place where they had hid their peltry, meaning to go to St. Louis by land, but when they were near the Osage, their horses were again stolen. Hewing themselves a canoe out of a log, they paddled down the Osage without further misadventure till they came to its mouth, when the canoe overset, and the whole year's hunt was lost. They, however, managed to save their powder and guns.
In the Missouri they met a French trader going up to the Mandan country. Pursley at once engaged to go with him for the voyage.
On reaching their destination, Pursley was sent out on a hunting and trading trip with some friendly Paducas and Kiowas, they taking with them a few trading goods. In the ensuing spring, while hunting at the sources of the Platte, they were driven into the neighboring mountains by hostile Sioux. Pursley estimated their number at two thousand, with ten thousand animals. Well was this nation called the Scourge of the Great Plains!
Knowing themselves to be on the borders of New Mexico, it was decided that Pursley, with a few others, should go to Santa Fé in order to learn if the Spaniards would give them good treatment if they came there to trade.
The Spanish governor having promised them good treatment, the Indian deputies went back to their bands, but rather than again risk capture by the cruel Sioux, Pursley thought best to stay where he was, among a civilized people. He arrived at Santa Fé in June, 1805, and had been following the carpenter's trade ever since. Lieutenant Pike describes him as a man of strong natural sense, of dauntless courage, and the first American who had penetrated so far into the wilds of Louisiana.