Part 17

Those who settled in a new country, and located in a new settlement, will agree with me, as a rule, that every one was ready to assist another when in his power to do so; no class nor any of the faction element existed; all were happy and attended to their own affairs. Whenever a dance or a church social was given, all were invited to attend, and, invariably, their presence was a proof of their acceptance.

The early settlements in Montana were of this character, and the small settlement in the valley of the Sun river was no exception. I remember when the Benton Record and the River Press, both published at Fort Benton, made their first appearance. Every family and bachelor in the settlement subscribed for those papers. Your humble servant, who then lived in the extreme outskirts of the settlement, was a correspondent for those journals.

When writing about matters of interest I was always careful to get the facts and sign my name to the article written.

But for the amusement of myself and the people of the little settlement (who were one and all my friends), sometimes a story of the following nature would appear in one or the other of those papers, with a fictitious name attached to it. At the request of an old settler, who has one of those stories referred to in his scrap-book, I here give a copy of the same. It was written in the cold winter of 1880, when the snow was very deep and many cattle starving:

A STRANGER IN THE LAND.

Being a stranger in the valley and anxious to become acquainted with the people, I saddled my horse to go to the crossing. It was one day last month, and, not being accustomed to Montana winters, I soon discovered that I was not wrapped sufficiently to stand such polar storms. Coming to a house where lived a German family, I asked if I could borrow a scarf or something to cover my ears; with the heart of a liberal soul the German told me to come in, and handed me a shawl.

“Rather cold day,” said I.

“Fery cold; it is durty-dree pelow zero, and I have no beer to give a stranger; des am awful country,” said he.

I made a new start, feeling very comfortable, and determined to speak to every one I met, and I did not expect to meet many but strangers, for Mr. H. and family were the only ones I knew in the neighborhood. As I was passing the next house, near the road there was a man repairing a gate, with a fur cap pulled over his ears.

“Good morning,” said I, and he nodded. Stopping my horse, I asked:

“Do you think that it is going to storm?”

“Hey,” said the man at the gate.

“Do you think this cold weather is going to last much longer?”

“What you say?” asked he.

I was getting discouraged, but as a last resort I asked in a loud tone:

“Do you think I had better go?”

“I go tomorrow,” he answered.

Giving my horse the spur, I caught up with an old freighter; he said that he was making regular trips between Sun River and Fort Benton. I remarked that it was rather cold weather for freighting.

“Oh, this is nothing,” he exclaimed; “in ’63 I wintered on Snake river, and when I unyoked the cattle I had to drive a wedge between the two oxen to get them apart, and at the camp fire I had a long stick holding my coffeepot in the flames to boil, and it turned cold so sudden that I had to let go of the stick and rub my nose, being afraid I was going to freeze it. I ran in the wagon and went to bed without any supper, and when I got up the next morning the smoke stood like the trunk of an old dead tree, and the coffeepot was still in the flames, frozen stiff to the ground; breathing the cold blast that very night it froze all my teeth, and as I was getting up that morning they dropped out of my mouth like corn from a patent corn sheller.”

When he told of freezing his teeth I believed him, for he had not a tooth in his head. I thought I would not say a word to anyone about cold weather again, and I gave my horse the rein.

Arriving near a large white house to the left of the road, I noticed smoke coming from the chimney, as if there was a good fire. Tying my horse to the fence, I went to the door and knocked; a man opened it, and asked me to come in and get warm. He went out to split some wood, and, while rubbing my hands before the red hot stove, I noticed milk pans, churn, etc., and this convinced me that it was a milk ranch. Soon he came in with some dry wood, and his wife came in from the pantry.

“Can I get a glass of milk to drink,” I asked him.

“I don’t know, ask the old woman,” said he.

“Yes,” said she, “of course you can.”

While drinking it, I asked him again:

“Do you think we are going to have another snow storm?”

“Well, I really don’t know. Ask the old woman, she can tell.”

“I think we are going to get one right away,” said she.

“Are you going to the debate tonight?”

“Well, I really don’t know. Ask the old woman, she can tell you.”

“I don’t think we shall,” said she.

Again I asked: “How many of your cattle have died this winter?”

“Well, I really don’t know. Ask the old woman, she knows.”

“About half of what we had,” she replied.

Just then a troop of boys came running into the room. “Are these your boys?” said I.

“Don’t know. Ask the old woman, she knows.”

I did not wait to hear her reply. I said I wanted to be at the crossing before the Benton coach arrived and I put on my hat and walked out. Half a mile further I met two school girls, a big and a bigger one, and they looked as if they were very cold. I said very politely: “Young ladies, I will lend you this shawl; and you can return it to Mr. Steell’s store whenever convenient.”

“Humph!” replied the biggest girl, “I wouldn’t be found dead in the woods with that shawl on.”

“I wouldn’t either,” said I, and I went on. Soon I was at Mr. H.’s house, which is near the road, and as I had an invitation from the hotelkeeper to attend a ball on the 22d, I thought I would call and ask Miss Annie to go to the ball with me. I met the old gentleman at the corner of the house.

“Good evening, Mr. H.,” said I.

“Good evening, Mr. S.,” said he.

“Is Miss Annie at home?”

“Yes, I believe she is, sir.”

“Is she engaged?”

“Is it engaged, ye say, sir? Faith, an’ I can’t tell ye, sir, but she kissed Mr. Maguire last evening as if she had not seen the loikes ov him, an’ it’s engaged I believed they are, sir.”

Just then there was a man going by on the road, and I said that I wanted to speak to him, and I ran through the gate, but I did not want to speak to anyone at that moment.

I came on, and at the bridge I noticed a sign, “Whoop Up.” I could not imagine what it meant. Thinking it was a menagerie, I entered. A man with a bloody nose met me at the door, and another stood in the opposite corner with a black eye, and both were panting as if exhausted.

“Who owns this place,” I asked the man with the bloody nose.

“A man in Fort Benton owns it, but if you want to know who runs it, just wait a few minutes until we have one more round to decide the question.”

But I left in about as much of a hurry as ever. I crossed the bridge, tied my horse to the hitching post back of the store, and went up the street. It was growing dark and I was getting discouraged. Passing a saloon, I heard some loud voices. One man was saying that modern spiritualism was a humbug, while another argued that it was the greatest wonder of the age. At one end of the counter there was cheese, crackers, herring, etc. Seeing all the fellows helping themselves, I came to the conclusion that it was a free lunch. I commenced eating, and kept on until I almost made out my supper, when the barkeeper walked up to me, saying:

“See here, stranger; those eating here are expected to take a drink.”

“I eat for my health; I always take a drink after I eat,” I said.

A while afterwards, as the barkeeper leaned on the counter, I said: “Now I will take a drink.”

“What will you have, sir,” said he.

“Water,” said I.

I saw him reach for something, and as I passed through the door--bang came a chair at my heels. I ran for my horse (a beautiful chestnut, with long mane and tail), but alas! he was not to be found. Where I had hitched mine there was a bob-tailed horse, surrounded by a band of starving cattle. I hurried to the other side of the store, looking for my nag, expecting every minute to see the barkeeper after me with a shotgun. I jumped over two or three poor cows. The second time I came in front of the bob-tailed horse, and, to my surprise, discovered that it was mine. The starving cattle had eaten his tail, and as I came upon my venerable steed they were chewing the saddle, of which nothing was left but the tree and a few buckles. I mounted the remains and left the town.

STRANGER. Sun River, Mont., Feb. 18, 1880.

* * * * *

The River Press has been published ever since, and is one of the brightest newspapers in the state; its subscription list is now a thousand fold larger than it was then. Great changes have taken place in the Sun river valley since “Stranger” made that trip. A few have left for other parts; many are still on the old camping ground that was then almost a barren desert, but now highly cultivated and decorated with trees and shrubs as beautiful as many of the eastern homes. The old freighter, the man at the gate, the good mother at the milk ranch and one of the school girls, and my old friend, Mr. H., have left what was then a new settlement, and have crossed the great divide and settled in the “New Jerusalem,” where all good people go and live forever.

ROBERT VAUGHN. May 20, 1899.

WARREN C. GILLETTE’S EARLY EXPERIENCES IN MONTANA.

“Graig, Montana, April 16, 1900.

“Robert Vaughn, Esq., Great Falls, Montana.

“Dear Sir: Your kind letter asking me to give you some account of what I saw and did in the early days of Montana is at hand. I accede to your request with no little diffidence, but trust it will answer your purpose.

“I was living in New York City in the spring of 1862, when I received a letter from James King of Galena, Illinois, stating that a number of our friends had gone to Salmon river mines, Washington territory, by steamboat from St. Louis to Fort Benton, and thence overland to the diggings. He asked me if I would be willing to join him and go by the next boat, which would leave about the 1st of July. I immediately replied that I would be glad to go, and would meet him in St. Louis in time to make arrangements for the trip.

On my arrival in St. Louis, we proceeded to buy a span of mules, wagon and provisions enough to last us a year. We did not get away until about the 12th of July. Joseph La Barge was the captain until we arrived at St. Joseph, where we met the boat Emile, returning from Fort Benton, where his brother, John La Barge, took his place. We learned from the passengers who came from up the river that mines had been discovered near Cottonwood, which is now called Deer Lodge, in this state, and on account of this news we added to our stock more miners’ supplies. At Sioux City La Barge, Harkness & Co., who owned our boat, the ‘Shreveport’ (and the Emile), had purchased horses to be taken on the boat, to be used in freighting goods to their destination, should they be unable to reach that point by water. These horses were to be loaded at Yankton, that was several miles up the river. Captain La Barge kindly gave me permission to put my mules with them and to help drive the animals from Sioux City to that place.

In making this trip we crossed the Vermillion river, and I was then deeply impressed with its beauty and the great fertility of its valley. At Yankton we put the stock on board the steamer. The man who helped me to drive the horses was a French half-breed by the name of Juneau, a thorough frontiersman. At Fort Pierre we tied up for several hours. Major Vaughn was one of the passengers. He was formerly an Indian agent under President Buchanan, and had with him his Indian wife and child. Her relatives lived in the vicinity of Fort Pierre. It appears that the major had purchased at St. Joseph for his wife an elegant silk gown, brocaded with satin figures. She went on shore for a visit with her relatives, and with them went on a berrying expedition attired in this gown. When she returned this garment was a sight to behold, and the major, using language more forcible than polite, declared that hereafter she should be clad only in the regulation Indian blanket.

“It being rather late in the season of navigation, we made slow progress, with frequent delays on sand bars and frequent stops for wood, at which times passengers readily assisted the roustabouts in gathering and loading; nevertheless, I remember that we enjoyed the trip. A day or two before we reached the mouth of the Yellowstone, we came upon an immense herd of buffalo. They approached the river from our right in one vast army, reaching as far as we could see, and going out on the other side after swimming across. Our boat pressed through this living mass, which quickly closed behind us. The passengers shot down into this huddling herd until the river was red with blood. Three were secured and landed on board by the crew. We had some Indians on board, who, when the buffaloes were being dressed for the boat’s use, procuring the offal, emptied the grass from the first stomach and ate the warm, raw tripe with evident relish.

“Nothing of more than ordinary interest occurred until after we passed Fort Union, near the mouth of the Yellowstone river, for up to this time we had seen only friendly Indians, but now the captain said we were in the Sioux country, and a stricter watch was kept when we tied to the bank at night. One morning, before we had left the bank, we were aroused by the cry of Indians. They were seen in a bend in the river a couple of miles below. The captain had a barricade of boxes made upon the shore and sent a runner up the river to a camp of friendly Indians for assistance. The Sioux made signals by flashing the sunlight from their little mirrors from the opposite cliffs. When the friendly Indians came, they were mounted on slick ponies; the men had on their war paint and war bonnets, and after a harangue from the chiefs dashed off to where the hostile Indians had been seen. It was a fine sight, and looked much like war, but in two or three hours they returned without any scalps, after driving the Sioux into the hills. In recognition of their valor, the captain gave them a great feast, consisting of hard bread, coffee and sugar, with buffalo meat ad libitum.

“We were unable to proceed above this place but a few miles, for the water seemed to lessen every day. Finally the captain gave orders to pull ashore where there was an old stockade fort, and we were put ashore. Here the cargo was discharged and moved to the abandoned stockade. As soon as the captain ascertained that we could proceed no further by water, he dispatched an Indian runner to Fort Benton with an order for teams to help transport the Shreveport’s cargo and passengers. Some of the passengers returned with him, having had enough of upper Missouri life. We met many Mackinaw boats coming down from Fort Benton, carrying from three to five men each. These men had come from the Pacific coast, and they told us of the rich diggings there, and also of the prospecting on the Prickly Pear (now American bar, in Montana), which made us anxious to get along; so, after remaining at the old stockade about a week, we got Mr. Picotte, in whose charge the captain had left the passengers and cargo, to take what teams we had and move on up the river, and not wait for the outfit from Fort Benton. One time after several days’ travel we made a camp near the mouth of Milk river, in a very level country, and nearby there was the largest aggregation of Indian lodges I had ever seen. There were several thousand Indians of different tribes. I remember the names of three only--Crows, Gros Ventres and Assiniboines. I have forgotten what the object of this great council was. Femmisee (Sitting Woman), who was the head chief of the Gros Ventres, was there. He was very friendly to us. Here we had our first actual trouble. Some Indians came into our camp and tried to take our guns away from us and acted in an ugly manner. It appeared that the Indians were divided as to whether we should be permitted to go any further through their country or not. The chief, Femmisee, said that we could go through, but was opposed by the younger Indians. That evening our party took a vote as to whether we should move on next day or turn back. A majority voting to return, in the morning we headed for the old stockade, but after we had gone only a short distance several warriors rode up to our leading team and with drawn guns and arrows strung compelled us to turn again in the direction of Fort Benton.

“Mr. Picotte informed us afterwards that the Indians also had a council, and it had been decided that we were to go through, and that Chief Femmisee, in enforcing his authority, had shot and wounded one of the opposition. Mr. Picotte made many presents to the head men, and from this time on we had no more trouble, though we met many Indians. There were fifteen white men in our party and several half-breeds. We took turns standing guard at night, making two watches--one from dark till midnight, the other from midnight till morning. After several days’ of travel, we met the company’s teams from Fort Benton on their way to the stockade; they were in charge of Robert Lemon. We reached Fort Benton without other important incident and made our headquarters at what was then styled Fort La Barge; an aggregation of log houses situated about three fourths of a mile above the old Fort Benton, which was occupied by the American Fur Company, and about a quarter of a mile above Fort Campbell, whose only occupants were Malcolm Clark and family. A day or two after our arrival we awoke one morning to the sound of alarm, and saw a war party of Indians circling about in the bluffs to the west. At Fort La Barge all was excitement, a cannon was brought and preparations for defense quickly made. This post was unfortified, while Fort Campbell and Fort Benton had walls of adobe with bastions and heavy gates. Clark sent up for someone to come to Fort Campbell to help him to hold the fort, and I was deputized for that duty; I got my gun and marched down. The heavy gate was opened and Mr. Clark welcomed me to his little garrison. The Indians, for most of the day, could be seen among the bluffs, but finally a parley was secured, presents were given and the war was over. Christopher L. Payne, who was one of our party and had some goods to go over the mountains, bought some ponies and broke them to harness and we waited a few days for him, as we wished to go together. During this time we heard that good diggings had been found on the Big Prickly Pear, and we left for that point, following the Capt. J. L. Fisk trail, whose expedition had preceded us about a month. Near the last of October we arrived at where now is located Montana City, or East Helena. Here we found several families who had come through with the Fisk expedition, among whom was E. M. Dunphy. We made arrangements with Dunphy to go to Benton with four wagons with oxen for our goods and bring them to the Prickly Pear camp where we expected to winter. I preceded him on horseback, and, on reaching Fort Benton, learned that no tidings of Lemon’s train had been received. I kept on down the river and fortunately met him below the mouth of the Marias river after one day’s travel from Fort Benton. Mr. Lemon reported that after leaving Milk river he encountered a party of Indians who demanded whisky and were very troublesome, cutting his harness and making threats of murdering the whole outfit. To escape them he took the heroic measure of rolling out a barrel of whisky and setting it on end; he knocked in the head and they were soon all dead drunk. While they were in this condition he pulled out his train, and, pushing on night and day, he saw them no more.