Part 2

It was against the rules of our camp for any one to kindle a fire after dark. The object was to prevent the Indians from locating us at night. We were obliged to camp where an abundance of water could be obtained. A small spring would not meet our requirements, for we had nearly three hundred horses, sometimes we had to make long drives to the next stream or a place where there was plenty of water. Other times we had to stop, from early noon until next day, for we could not make the drive in one afternoon. For the balance of the day we frequently had considerable sport by playing several games, shooting at a mark, short and long distance jumping, wrestling and foot racing; but as the journey grew longer the contraction of the muscles put a stop to the latter three. On one of those long evenings we saw a torch light at the base of a mountain not far off. It was swung back and forth for several minutes. It was an Indian sign, and that put a stop to all games for that evening. We looked for trouble that night, but had none. We were all happy and had no sickness on that trip. There were six or seven men from the southern part of Illinois who had the ague at the time they joined the party, but as we came nearer to the mountains all traces of it disappeared and returned no more. It was hard for us to secure game of any kind, for the Indians kept driving it away as we went, and it was not prudent for us to venture far from the course we were pursuing to look for any. We saw many deer and buffaloes, but they were a long ways off; occasionally we would get some of the smaller game. We traversed much good grazing land where water was plenty; also many valleys with rich lands for farming and an abundance of good timber.

[Illustration: MY FIRST VIEW OF THE ROCKIES.]

The atmosphere was very clear when we first saw the Rocky mountains. They were several hundred miles distant; an old Californian pointed them out. They appeared to be of immense height and it was difficult to convince many of us that they were mountains, for they looked more like thunder clouds to us who came from the prairie states. Every day brought us nearer, and soon the perpetual snow was visible, then the green pines and the rocky cliffs above the timber line, where no vegetation exists, were plain to be seen, and, as I gazed at those high rocky peaks, reaching above the clouds, it was plain to see why the Rocky mountains were called “The Rockies.”

It did not take many days to skirt those lofty mountains and wind our way through their canyons, listening to the rebounding echo of our wagons rattling over the rocks and boulders as we went.

In one of those narrow valleys in the mountains we camped one June day for dinner. Trout was abundant in the creek. On both sides there was a dense growth of pine. Thinking that it was a good place to look for deer, I took my gun and climbed the mountain side until I reached where the land was almost level. After I had gone about a mile, I arrived at an opening in the woods; two or three hundred yards away I saw a large brown bear and elevating my gun I took aim at the big brute; just then a second thought came to me, and I said to myself: “If I kill it, all well and good; if I only wound it I’ll get the worst of it.” I paused for a minute, looking at the bear, and the longer I looked the larger it seemed; the bear stood and looked at me, and finally he walked away slowly, occasionally looking back. I was walking as the bear did, only in the opposite direction. Soon the bear stopped and faced towards me and I made a bee-line for the camp, for I was not looking for that kind of game that day.

We frequently passed trees in the branches of which a dead Indian was placed on a kind of scaffold eight or ten feet above the ground. This place of burial was constructed of poles and branches of trees tied together with strips of rawhide. The remains were carefully wrapped in beaded and painted robes, in Indian fashion, and secured with rawhide ropes to the scaffold. Thus the dead Indian rested, high and dry, on his sacred roost until his gorgeous couch was destroyed by the elements and his bones picked by birds of prey. We also passed several scaffolds built on four forked stakes, on which remains of Indians were placed, and wrapped in the same manner as those on the trees.

Very often some aged Indians would visit our camps and go from one tent to another and peep in as if they were counting to ascertain how many there were. We treated them kindly and gave them something to eat; they always asked for matches and were very fond of tobacco. Our guide warned us that they were spies and for us to have our guns in a conspicuous place so they could see our strength. We had many obstacles to contend with on our journey. One day we had to travel forty miles without water. It was very hot; many of the horses giving out, their tongues being swollen until they protruded from their mouths. At another time we had to let the wagons down the mountain with ropes, with the hind wheels locked; and we had to cross rivers on rafts and wagon boxes; again fording streams where there was great danger of being taken down by the surging waters. Four of our men came very near losing their lives in this way; but being good swimmers they avoided drowning. We crossed the Powder, Clark’s Fork, Rosebud and Yellowstone rivers and many other streams. The first we came to were very high, for at that time the snows were melting off the mountains.

[Illustration: AN INDIAN GRAVE.]

Upon reaching the Rosebud we pitched our tents and camped till the next morning. It was in the latter part of June; the trees and shrubs were in full foliage and the wild flowers perfumed the air. The Rosebud is one of the prettiest rivers I ever saw; like all mountain streams the current is swift and its water as clear as crystal. Its beds are inlaid with pebbles of all imaginable colors, with occasional large boulders, where the speckled trout hides as one approaches the water’s edge. Along its banks are groves of ancient trees, with underbrush of many varieties and wild roses in great profusion. The bottom lands for miles are but nature’s meadows, while the rolling hills, as far as the eye can see, are a vast pasture land dotted here and there with clumps of timber. Although away from civilization, the small birds flutter among the branches, singing their sweet songs with as tender cadence as if in somebody’s front yard in the civilized East. The same can be said of nearly all of the streams and valleys that we crossed and came through on our journey. On first view of these beautiful landscapes a person would think that some prehistoric race had cultivated these fertile valleys and planted those ancient trees and groves that grew as uniform as if the ground had been laid out by some expert landscape gardener. On further observation, we could see high, tempest tortured towers of grand masonry work, which had withstood the elements for ages. All is but the handiwork of nature, directed by the Great Architect of the Universe.

[Illustration: IN THE ROCKIES.]

[Illustration: NATURE’S GRAND MASONRY WORK.]

When in the Yellowstone valley we saw from a distance a party of Indians all mounted and coming towards us. Our captain at once gave orders to form into a camp, and, before the Indians got near, we were formed into a stockade and ready for battle, if necessary. As the Indians approached our guide stepped forward about two hundred yards to meet them. They were eighty-five in number. Then they whipped their horses to greater speed and began yelling. When within about two hundred yards of him, he lifted his hand and the Indians stopped as if they were shot. The chief of the party and our guide had a sign talk for a few minutes; the chief came forward and stated that they were “Crows” and he wished to know who we were. He was informed who we were and where we were going. They talked for about ten minutes, then the balance of the Indians came forward and were invited to come to our camp. They were mounted on good horses and had on their war paint and all were stripped to their waists. We gave them bread and coffee and took a smoke with them. Smoking with an Indian signifies that he is friendly. They all left very peaceably and never came back. They were the last Indians we saw until we got to Alder Creek.

Some distance after crossing the Yellowstone river the writer and two others were considerably ahead of the wagons and crossing our course was a ripple of clear water. The sun was hot and the effect of the heat made us thirsty. All three, nearly at the same time, got down to quench their thirst with the sparkling water. The first one cries at the top of his voice: “My God, it is hot;” the second remarked: “Well, boys, we must be near to the jumping-off place,” while the third thought that we were getting near to the infernal regions. However, it was a great wonder to us, for this was the first hot spring that we had ever seen.

This spring is to-day the renowned Hunter Hot Springs, a place of resort for its mineral properties, where hundreds of people are treated every year for rheumatism and kindred diseases. It has fine hotel accommodations and all modern conveniences and improvements for the comfort of its patrons. What was “then” but a ripple of hot water is “now” a Western Saratoga.

After a journey of two thousand miles over plains and sandy deserts, up the hills and down the canyons, crossing rivers and through many beautiful valleys, fatigued by much suffering, hardships and dangers, we arrived in Alder Gulch July 13, 1864. We found it to be a great camp, and were told how many dollars to the pan and how rich the mines were, and of the “road agents” robbing and killing people; of the organization of the vigilance committee and the good work they were doing by hanging the desperadoes, and suppressing lawlessness. Not until we arrived did we learn of the organization of the Territory of Montana, for it was completed May 26th, while we were in the wilderness. Truly, Montana “then” was but an infant in its cradle.

ROBERT VAUGHN. Feb. 11, 1898.

ON A STAMPEDE TO THE YELLOWSTONE.

In September, 1864, James Gibb, Jack Williams, Charles Howard, myself and a man named Wilson, left Alder Gulch on a “stampede” to the upper Yellowstone country. It was reported that a rich gold discovery had been made not far from the canyon at the Yellowstone river. Each of us procured a saddle pony, and a pack horse. We undertook to follow the base of the mountains; crossing the headwaters of the Madison, Jefferson, and Gallatin rivers. We were traveling by direction of a map and the use of a compass, but made the mistake of keeping too near the mountains, for we were delayed several times by the dense pines that grew so thick in some places that we had to chop our way through. In one small valley there was a great quantity of petrified wood, and in the bed of the creek nearly all the stones were petrifactions. I remember that we stopped on the banks of this creek for dinner. The mountains were very steep. On a cliff about one hundred yards off stood a Rocky mountain goat. At first we thought it a domestic sheep, for it was very white, bleated, and acted as if it was glad to see us. But then, as there were no settlers within several hundred miles, we could not imagine how a sheep could get to such a place. While we were discussing the matter, the animal leaped over cliffs and up the mountain as if it was on level ground, and this satisfied us all that it was a Rocky mountain goat. Not one of us had seen one previously. The next day we came to a small lake on top of a mountain, on approaching which we could see a big black bear rooting in the edge of the water, but it disappeared before we had a chance to shoot. After that we were on the watch for bear. Sometimes we would travel for several miles on a well-beaten trail made by wild animals. At one time Jack Williams was considerably in advance of the balance of the party, and on one of these game trails, at a point where the ground was a little marshy so an impression of any kind would show very plainly. Suddenly we could see Jack coming around the bend helter-skelter as fast as his pony could carry him, saying that he had seen the track of a grizzly bear coming straight towards him. I asked, “Do you mean to say that you saw a grizzly bear coming straight towards you?” “No,” said Jack, “I saw its track coming this way.” “And you went after the bear, did you?” Jack studied a minute and said: “I’ll be hanged I never thought of that, but I’ll tell you, boys, those tracks are fourteen inches long and eight inches wide; I don’t care what direction they point to, the sight of them is enough to convince a man when he is alone that he has not lost any bears.” On the seventh day we camped on the Yellowstone and stayed until the next morning. The river was not wide, but the current was very swift and the banks and the bed of the stream were very rocky. It was a fine place for trout fishing, and we caught some that weighed two pounds. We could not see any indications of travel up the river, but we went as far as the canyon. Wonderland was not known then. We concluded that the new Eldorado was not in that direction, so we turned back and went down the valley for many miles; we did some prospecting along the route. Finally we found about fifty men working in a place which had been named Emigrant Gulch. There were but few taking out gold in paying quantities; most of them were prospecting in the gulch and on the bars. We remained there several days, but found nothing that we thought would pay, although a great deal of gold has been taken out of this gulch since. Consequently we decided to go home. This time we took the lowland until we reached the emigrant trail. On our way, on the divide between the Yellowstone and Gallatin valleys, we saw about one hundred and fifty elks all in one herd, on a slope of a hill, grazing. Grass was abundant and game was plentiful; wherever we traveled we had all the trout and deer meat that we could eat. At the crossing of the Gallatin we met Mr. John Bozeman, for whom the City of Bozeman, Montana, is named, as I have mentioned in a previous letter. The last time that I met him was on the North Platte. There were with him three or four Indian people. He was returning from Alder Gulch, having made a successful trip with a train of emigrant wagons, of which he was guide. He brought this train, which was about one hundred and twenty wagons, from the North Platte river and by his “New Bozeman route,” east of the Big Horn mountains, to the Yellowstone valley and thence to the gold fields; now he was on his way back to organize another train for the same place and by the same route. Some time afterwards and but one day’s travel from the place where I met him last he was murdered by the treacherous Indians, for whom he had done many kind acts. Thus the brave pioneer and frontiersman John Bozeman, came to the end of his route. We had been very lucky; we saw but few Indians; the weather had been delightful, and all enjoyed the trip. We saw grand scenery, groves of lofty pines, natural parks stocked with wild deer and elks, brooks of clear water where the speckled trout played among its pebbles and had all the harbor to themselves; beautiful springs bursting forth from the mountain side, still higher the majestic peaks stood in bold relief above the mountain pines, where lay the perpetual snow; and to render man’s enjoyment complete, his lungs are filled with pure mountain air perfumed with scent of pines and herbs that grow everywhere. I know of no place like the mountains for one that loves nature in all its glory.

After twenty-nine days of “roughing it” we returned to Alder Gulch, not any richer, but wiser, men.

ROBERT VAUGHN. Feb. 12, 1898.

THE DISCOVERY OF ALDER CREEK, THE RICHEST GULCH ON THE GLOBE.

On April 9, 1863, several courageous miners met at Bannock City, and formulated plans to organize an expedition to the country of the Yellowstone and Big Horn rivers for the purpose of prospecting for gold, and if successful, the idea was to lay out townsites, and so forth. James Stuart, a brother of Granville Stuart (now of Butte), and William Fairweather, were the prime movers in getting up the expedition. It was agreed that those who were going to join the expedition should meet at Rattlesnake creek the next day. There the form of organization was to be adopted; the original manuscript, which is now in the possession of the Historical Society of Montana, reads thus: “Having determined to explore a portion of the country drained by the ‘Yellowstone’ for the purpose of discovering gold mines and securing townsites, and, believing this object could be better accomplished by forming ourselves into a regularly organized company, we hereby appoint James Stuart captain, agreeing upon our word of honor to obey all orders given or issued by him, or any subordinate officer appointed by him. In case of any member refusing to obey an order or orders from said captain, he shall be forcibly expelled from our camp. It is further understood and agreed that we all do our equal portions of work, the captain being umpire in all cases, sharing equally the benefits of the said labor both as to the discovery of gold and securing townsites.

“(Signed.) James Stuart, Cyrus D. Watkins, John Vanderbilt, James N. York, Richard McCafferty, James Hauxhurst, Drewyer Underwood, Samuel T. Hauser, Henry A. Bell, William Roach, A. Sterne Blake, George H. Smith, Henry T. Greery, Ephraim Bostwick.”

George Ives overtook the party the next day; he had not yet signed the agreement, but he intended doing so.

William Fairweather, Lewis Simons, Bill Sweeney, Thomas Cover, Barney Hughes, Henry Edgar and Rogers intended to meet Stuart and his party at a given place, but on account of losing their horses they failed to make the connection, but arrived there three or four days after Stuart and his party had passed. They took their trail, making as good time as possible, with the expectation of overtaking them in two or three days. But, on the upper Yellowstone, they were met by a large party of Crow Indians who took them prisoners. And this is the reason why the “Bill Fairweather party” and “the James Stuart party” became separated. The consequence was that Fairweather and his men were forced to turn back, and, when returning from what they thought was an unfortunate trip, they discovered Alder Gulch, which proved afterwards to be the richest gulch in the world. And it appears to a man in the moon that the Crow chief had a hand in making this discovery, and likely if Bill Fairweather had thought of it he would have staked him a claim.

When the news reached Bannock that Fairweather’s party had made a rich discovery everybody rushed for the new Eldorado, and in a few days Bannock was almost deserted. June 6, 1863, the Fairweather district was organized (in Alder Gulch), with Dr. Steele president and James Fergus recorder. And then and there the sills and rafters of the State of Montana were hewn.

Since then over $85,000,000 has been taken out of this remarkable gulch.

Recently a correspondent of the Anaconda Standard had an interview with the Henry Edgar referred to, which interview was published in the “Standard” Sept. 5, 1899, from which the following extracts are taken. Mr. Edgar said:

“In February, 1863, I sold my claim, which was No. 8 on Stapleton’s bar at Bannock, and went to Deer Lodge to get an outfit for this expedition. We intended to join Stuart’s party, which left Bannock about the same time we departed from Deer Lodge. That was the latter part of April or the first part of May. We were in reality bound for the Black Hills. Simmons accompanied us as our guide. There were six in the party. We had got two days’ travel below the mouth of Clarke’s Fork in the neighborhood of Pompey’s Pillar, when we were captured by the Indians. There was no fighting. That would have been sure death, they so far outnumbered us. They took us into camp and made medicine over us for three days.

“It was jointly through Bill Fairweather and Lewis Simmons that we were saved. I do not understand why it was, but a rattlesnake would never bite Bill. When he saw one he would always take it up and carry it along with him. They never seemed to resent anything he would do with them and he never killed one. As we were going towards the Indian village he picked up a rattlesnake, and just at the outskirts of the village he picked up another. When the Indians saw him come in with a rattlesnake on each arm they were awed. He put the snakes in his shirt bosom and Simmons told the Indians that he was the great medicine man of the whites.

“They took us into the medicine lodge, where a large bush was placed in the center. They marched us around that several times and finally Bill said if they repeated it he would pull up the sacred medicine bush. They marched us around again and Bill pulled up the bush and walloped the medicine man on the head with it. We then were formed three to three, back to back. We had refused all along to give up our guns and revolvers. The old chief drove the other Indians back with a whip. They had a council which lasted from noon till midnight. In the meantime we were sentenced. If we proceeded they would kill us. If we turned back and relinquished our horses we would not be harmed. It was Hobson’s choice. I received for my three horses an old horse, blind in one eye, and a yearling colt. For my three pairs of Oregon blankets a buffalo robe and a half, and for my grub, consisting of flour, bacon, coffee, beans, etc., a dozen dried buffalo tongues. Simmons remained with the Indians.

[Illustration: INDIAN WAR DANCE.]