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CHAPTER 6
Sublette and his band Robert Campbell Mr. Wyeth and a band of
"down-easters" Yankee enterprise Fitzpatrick His adventure with
the Blackfeet A rendezvous of mountaineers The battle of Pierre's
Hole An Indian ambuscade Sublette's return
LEAVING CAPTAIN BONNEVILLE and his band ensconced within their
fortified camp in the Green River valley, we shall step back and
accompany a party of the Rocky Mountain Fur Company in its
progress, with supplies from St. Louis, to the annual rendezvous
at Pierre's Hole. This party consisted of sixty men, well
mounted, and conducting a line of packhorses. They were commanded
by Captain William Sublette, a partner in the company, and one of
the most active, intrepid, and renowned leaders in this half
military kind of service. He was accompanied by his associate in
business, and tried companion in danger, Mr. Robert Campbell, one
of the pioneers of the trade beyond the mountains, who had
commanded trapping parties there in times of the greatest peril.
As these worthy compeers were on their route to the frontier,
they fell in with another expedition, likewise on its way to the
mountains. This was a party of regular "down-easters," that is to
say, people of New England, who, with the all-penetrating and
all-pervading spirit of their race, were now pushing their way
into a new field of enterprise with which they were totally
unacquainted. The party had been fitted out and was maintained
and commanded by Mr. Nathaniel J. Wyeth, of Boston. This
gentleman had conceived an idea that a profitable fishery for
salmon might be established on the Columbia River, and connected
with the fur trade. He had, accordingly, invested capital in
goods, calculated, as he supposed, for the Indian trade, and had
enlisted a number of eastern men in his employ, who had never
been in the Far West, nor knew anything of the wilderness. With
these, he was bravely steering his way across the continent,
undismayed by danger, difficulty, or distance, in the same way
that a New England coaster and his neighbors will coolly launch
forth on a voyage to the Black Sea, or a whaling cruise to the
Pacific.
With all their national aptitude at expedient and resource, Wyeth
and his men felt themselves completely at a loss when they
reached the frontier, and found that the wilderness required
experience and habitudes of which they were totally deficient.
Not one of the party, excepting the leader, had ever seen an
Indian or handled a rifle; they were without guide or
interpreter, and totally unacquainted with "wood craft" and the
modes of making their way among savage hordes, and subsisting
themselves during long marches over wild mountains and barren
plains.
In this predicament, Captain Sublette found them, in a manner
becalmed, or rather run aground, at the little frontier town of
Independence, in Missouri, and kindly took them in tow. The two
parties travelled amicably together; the frontier men of
Sublette's party gave their Yankee comrades some lessons in
hunting, and some insight into the art and mystery of dealing
with the Indians, and they all arrived without accident at the
upper branches of the Nebraska or Platte River.
In the course of their march, Mr. Fitzpatrick, the partner of the
company who was resident at that time beyond the mountains, came
down from the rendezvous at Pierre's Hole to meet them and hurry
them forward. He travelled in company with them until they
reached the Sweet Water; then taking a couple of horses, one for
the saddle, and the other as a pack-horse, he started off express
for Pierre's Hole, to make arrangements against their arrival,
that he might commence his hunting campaign before the rival
company.
Fitzpatrick was a hardy and experienced mountaineer, and knew all
the passes and defiles. As he was pursuing his lonely course up
the Green River valley, he described several horsemen at a
distance, and came to a halt to reconnoitre. He supposed them to
be some detachment from the rendezvous, or a party of friendly
Indians. They perceived him, and setting up the war-whoop, dashed
forward at full speed: he saw at once his mistake and his
peril--they were Blackfeet. Springing upon his fleetest horse,
and abandoning the other to the enemy, he made for the mountains,
and succeeded in escaping up one of the most dangerous defiles.
Here he concealed himself until he thought the Indians had gone
off, when he returned into the valley. He was again pursued, lost
his remaining horse, and only escaped by scrambling up among the
cliffs. For several days he remained lurking among rocks and
precipices, and almost famished, having but one remaining charge
in his rifle, which he kept for self-defence.
In the meantime, Sublette and Campbell, with their fellow
traveller, Wyeth, had pursued their march unmolested, and arrived
in the Green River valley, totally unconscious that there was any
lurking enemy at hand. They had encamped one night on the banks
of a small stream, which came down from the Wind River Mountains,
when about midnight, a band of Indians burst upon their camp,
with horrible yells and whoops, and a discharge of guns and
arrows. Happily no other harm was done than wounding one mule,
and causing several horses to break loose from their pickets. The
camp was instantly in arms; but the Indians retreated with yells
of exultation, carrying off several of the horses under cover of
the night.
This was somewhat of a disagreeable foretaste of mountain life to
some of Wyeth's band, accustomed only to the regular and peaceful
life of New England; nor was it altogether to the taste of
Captain Sublette's men, who were chiefly creoles and townsmen
from St. Louis. They continued their march the next morning,
keeping scouts ahead and upon their flanks, and arrived without
further molestation at Pierre's Hole.
The first inquiry of Captain Sublette, on reaching the
rendezvous, was for Fitzpatrick. He had not arrived, nor had any
intelligence been received concerning him. Great uneasiness was
now entertained, lest he should have fallen into the hands of the
Blackfeet who had made the midnight attack upon the camp. It was
a matter of general joy, therefore, when he made his appearance,
conducted by two half-breed Iroquois hunters. He had lurked for
several days among the mountains, until almost starved; at length
he escaped the vigilance of his enemies in the night, and was so
fortunate as to meet the two Iroquois hunters, who, being on
horseback, conveyed him without further difficulty to the
rendezvous. He arrived there so emaciated that he could scarcely
be recognized.
The valley called Pierre's Hole is about thirty miles in length
and fifteen in width, bounded to the west and south by low and
broken ridges, and overlooked to the east by three lofty
mountains, called the three Tetons, which domineer as landmarks
over a vast extent of country.
A fine stream, fed by rivulets and mountain springs, pours
through the valley toward the north, dividing it into nearly
equal parts. The meadows on its borders are broad and extensive,
covered with willow and cotton-wood trees, so closely interlocked
and matted together as to be nearly impassable.
In this valley was congregated the motley populace connected with
the fur trade. Here the two rival companies had their
encampments, with their retainers of all kinds: traders,
trappers, hunters, and half-breeds, assembled from all quarters,
awaiting their yearly supplies, and their orders to start off in
new directions. Here, also, the savage tribes connected with the
trade, the Nez Perces or Chopunnish Indians, and Flatheads, had
pitched their lodges beside the streams, and with their squaws,
awaited the distribution of goods and finery. There was,
moreover, a band of fifteen free trappers, commanded by a gallant
leader from Arkansas, named Sinclair, who held their encampment a
little apart from the rest. Such was the wild and heterogeneous
assemblage, amounting to several hundred men, civilized and
savage, distributed in tents and lodges in the several camps.
The arrival of Captain Sublette with supplies put the Rocky
Mountain Fur Company in full activity. The wares and merchandise
were quickly opened, and as quickly disposed of to trappers and
Indians; the usual excitement and revelry took place, after which
all hands began to disperse to their several destinations.
On the 17th of July, a small brigade of fourteen trappers, led by
Milton Sublette, brother of the captain, set out with the
intention of proceeding to the southwest. They were accompanied
by Sinclair and his fifteen free trappers; Wyeth, also, and his
New England band of beaver hunters and salmon fishers, now
dwindled down to eleven, took this opportunity to prosecute their
cruise in the wilderness, accompanied with such experienced
pilots. On the first day, they proceeded about eight miles to the
southeast, and encamped for the night, still in the valley of
Pierre's Hole. On the following morning, just as they were
raising their camp, they observed a long line of people pouring
down a defile of the mountains. They at first supposed them to be
Fontenelle and his party, whose arrival had been daily expected.
Wyeth, however, reconnoitred them with a spy-glass, and soon
perceived they were Indians. They were divided into two parties,
forming, in the whole, about one hundred and fifty persons, men,
women, and children. Some were on horseback, fantastically
painted and arrayed, with scarlet blankets fluttering in the
wind. The greater part, however, were on foot. They had perceived
the trappers before they were themselves discovered, and came
down yelling and whooping into the plain. On nearer approach,
they were ascertained to be Blackfeet.
One of the trappers of Sublette's brigade, a half-breed named
Antoine Godin, now mounted his horse, and rode forth as if to
hold a conference. He was the son of an Iroquois hunter, who had
been cruelly murdered by the Blackfeet at a small stream below
the mountains, which still bears his name. In company with
Antoine rode forth a Flathead Indian, whose once powerful tribe
had been completely broken down in their wars with the Blackfeet.
Both of them, therefore, cherished the most vengeful hostility
against these marauders of the mountains. The Blackfeet came to a
halt. One of the chiefs advanced singly and unarmed, bearing the
pipe of peace. This overture was certainly pacific; but Antoine
and the Flathead were predisposed to hostility, and pretended to
consider it a treacherous movement.
"Is your piece charged?" said Antoine to his red companion.
"It is."
"Then cock it, and follow me."
They met the Blackfoot chief half way, who extended his hand in
friendship. Antoine grasped it.
"Fire! " cried he.
The Flathead levelled his piece, and brought the Blackfoot to the
ground. Antoine snatched off his scarlet blanket, which was
richly ornamented, and galloped off with it as a trophy to the
camp, the bullets of the enemy whistling after him. The Indians
immediately threw themselves into the edge of a swamp, among
willows and cotton-wood trees, interwoven with vines. Here they
began to fortify themselves; the women digging a trench, and
throwing up a breastwork of logs and branches, deep hid in the
bosom of the wood, while the warriors skirmished at the edge to
keep the trappers at bay.
The latter took their station in a ravine in front, whence they
kept up a scattering fire. As to Wyeth, and his little band of
"downeasters," they were perfectly astounded by this second
specimen of life in the wilderness; the men, being especially
unused to bushfighting and the use of the rifle, were at a loss
how to proceed. Wyeth, however, acted as a skilful commander. He
got all his horses into camp and secured them; then, making a
breastwork of his packs of goods, he charged his men to remain in
garrison, and not to stir out of their fort. For himself, he
mingled with the other leaders, determined to take his share in
the conflict.
In the meantime, an express had been sent off to the rendezvous
for reinforcements. Captain Sublette, and his associate,
Campbell, were at their camp when the express came galloping
across the plain, waving his cap, and giving the alarm;
"Blackfeet! Blackfeet! a fight in the upper part of the
valley!--to arms! to arms!"
The alarm was passed from camp to camp. It was a common cause.
Every one turned out with horse and rifle. The Nez Perces and
Flatheads joined. As fast as horseman could arm and mount he
galloped off; the valley was soon alive with white men and red
men scouring at full speed.
Sublette ordered his men to keep to the camp, being recruits from
St. Louis, and unused to Indian warfare. He and his friend
Campbell prepared for action. Throwing off their coats, rolling
up their sleeves, and arming themselves with pistols and rifles,
they mounted their horses and dashed forward among the first. As
they rode along, they made their wills in soldier-like style;
each stating how his effects should be disposed of in case of his
death, and appointing the other his executor.
The Blackfeet warriors had supposed the brigade of Milton
Sublette all the foes they had to deal with, and were astonished
to behold the whole valley suddenly swarming with horsemen,
galloping to the field of action. They withdrew into their fort,
which was completely hid from sight in the dark and tangled wood.
Most of their women and children had retreated to the mountains.
The trappers now sallied forth and approached the swamp, firing
into the thickets at random; the Blackfeet had a better sight at
their adversaries, who were in the open field, and a half-breed
was wounded in the shoulder.
When Captain Sublette arrived, he urged to penetrate the swamp
and storm the fort, but all hung back in awe of the dismal
horrors of the place, and the danger of attacking such
desperadoes in their savage den. The very Indian allies, though
accustomed to bushfighting, regarded it as almost impenetrable,
and full of frightful danger. Sublette was not to be turned from
his purpose, but offered to lead the way into the swamp. Campbell
stepped forward to accompany him. Before entering the perilous
wood, Sublette took his brothers aside, and told them that in
case he fell, Campbell, who knew his will, was to be his
executor. This done, he grasped his rifle and pushed into the
thickets, followed by Campbell. Sinclair, the partisan from
Arkansas, was at the edge of the wood with his brother and a few
of his men. Excited by the gallant example of the two friends, he
pressed forward to share their dangers.
The swamp was produced by the labors of the beaver, which, by
damming up a stream, had inundated a portion of the valley. The
place was all overgrown with woods and thickets, so closely
matted and entangled that it was impossible to see ten paces
ahead, and the three associates in peril had to crawl along, one
after another, making their way by putting the branches and vines
aside; but doing it with caution, lest they should attract the
eye of some lurking marksman. They took the lead by turns, each
advancing about twenty yards at a time, and now and then
hallooing to their men to follow. Some of the latter gradually
entered the swamp, and followed a little distance in their rear.
They had now reached a more open part of the wood, and had
glimpses of the rude fortress from between the trees. It was a
mere breastwork, as we have said, of logs and branches, with
blankets, buffalo robes, and the leathern covers of lodges,
extended round the top as a screen. The movements of the leaders,
as they groped their way, had been descried by the sharp-sighted
enemy. As Sinclair, who was in the advance, was putting some
branches aside, he was shot through the body. He fell on the
spot. "Take me to my brother,'' said he to Campbell. The latter
gave him in charge to some of the men, who conveyed him out of
the swamp.
Sublette now took the advance. As he was reconnoitring the fort,
he perceived an Indian peeping through an aperture. In an instant
his rifle was levelled and discharged, and the ball struck the
savage in the eye. While he was reloading, he called to Campbell,
and pointed out to him the hole; "Watch that place," said he,
"and you will soon have a fair chance for a shot." Scarce had he
uttered the words, when a ball struck him in the shoulder, and
almost wheeled him around. His first thought was to take hold of
his arm with his other hand, and move it up and down. He
ascertained, to his satisfaction, that the bone was not broken.
The next moment he was so faint that he could not stand. Campbell
took him in his arms and carried him out of the thicket. The same
shot that struck Sublette wounded another man in the head.
A brisk fire was now opened by the mountaineers from the wood,
answered occasionally from the fort. Unluckily, the trappers and
their allies, in searching for the fort, had got scattered, so
that Wyeth, and a number of Nez Perces, approached the fort on
the northwest side, while others did the same on the opposite
quarter. A cross-fire thus took place, which occasionally did
mischief to friends as well as foes. An Indian was shot down,
close to Wyeth, by a ball which, he was convinced, had been sped
from the rifle of a trapper on the other side of the fort.
The number of whites and their Indian allies had by this time so
much increased by arrivals from the rendezvous, that the
Blackfeet were completely overmatched. They kept doggedly in
their fort, however, making no offer of surrender. An occasional
firing into the breastwork was kept up during the day. Now and
then, one of the Indian allies, in bravado, would rush up to the
fort, fire over the ramparts, tear off a buffalo robe or a
scarlet blanket, and return with it in triumph to his comrades.
Most of the savage garrison that fell, however, were killed in
the first part of the attack.
At one time it was resolved to set fire to the fort; and the
squaws belonging to the allies were employed to collect
combustibles. This however, was abandoned; the Nez Perces being
unwilling to destroy the robes and blankets, and other spoils of
the enemy, which they felt sure would fall into their hands.
The Indians, when fighting, are prone to taunt and revile each
other. During one of the pauses of the battle, the voice of the
Blackfeet chief was heard.
"So long," said he, "as we had powder and ball, we fought you in
the open field: when those were spent, we retreated here to die
with our women and children. You may burn us in our fort; but,
stay by our ashes, and you who are so hungry for fighting will
soon have enough. There are four hundred lodges of our brethren
at hand. They will soon be here--their arms are strong--their
hearts are big--they will avenge us!"
This speech was translated two or three times by Nez Perce and
creole interpreters. By the time it was rendered into English,
the chief was made to say that four hundred lodges of his tribe
were attacking the encampment at the other end of the valley.
Every one now was for hurrying to the defence of the rendezvous.
A party was left to keep watch upon the fort; the rest galloped
off to the camp. As night came on, the trappers drew out of the
swamp, and remained about the skirts of the wood. By morning,
their companions returned from the rendezvous with the report
that all was safe. As the day opened, they ventured within the
swamp and approached the fort. All was silent. They advanced up
to it without opposition. They entered: it had been abandoned in
the night, and the Blackfeet had effected their retreat, carrying
off their wounded on litters made of branches, leaving bloody
traces on the herbage. The bodies of ten Indians were found
within the fort; among them the one shot in the eye by Sublette.
The Blackfeet afterward reported that they had lost twenty-six
warriors in this battle. Thirty-two horses were likewise found
killed; among them were some of those recently carried off from
Sublette's party, in the night; which showed that these were the
very savages that had attacked him. They proved to be an advance
party of the main body of Blackfeet, which had been upon the
trail of Sublette's party. Five white men and one halfbreed were
killed, and several wounded. Seven of the Nez Perces were also
killed, and six wounded. They had an old chief, who was reputed
as invulnerable. In the course of the action he was hit by a
spent ball, and threw up blood; but his skin was unbroken. His
people were now fully convinced that he was proof against powder
and ball.
A striking circumstance is related as having occurred the morning
after the battle. As some of the trappers and their Indian allies
were approaching the fort through the woods, they beheld an
Indian woman, of noble form and features, leaning against a tree.
Their surprise at her lingering here alone, to fall into the
hands of her enemies, was dispelled, when they saw the corpse of
a warrior at her feet. Either she was so lost in grief as not to
perceive their approach; or a proud spirit kept her silent and
motionless. The Indians set up a yell, on discovering her, and
before the trappers could interfere, her mangled body fell upon
the corpse which she had refused to abandon. We have heard this
anecdote discredited by one of the leaders who had been in the
battle: but the fact may have taken place without his seeing it,
and been concealed from him. It is an instance of female
devotion, even to the death, which we are well disposed to
believe and to record.
After the battle, the brigade of Milton Sublette, together with
the free trappers, and Wyeth's New England band, remained some
days at the rendezvous, to see if the main body of Blackfeet
intended to make an attack; nothing of the kind occurring, they
once more put themselves in motion, and proceeded on their route
toward the southwest. Captain Sublette having distributed his
supplies, had intended to set off on his return to St. Louis,
taking with him the peltries collected from the trappers and
Indians. His wound, however obliged him to postpone his
departure. Several who were to have accompanied him became
impatient of this delay. Among these was a young Bostonian, Mr.
Joseph More, one of the followers of Mr. Wyeth, who had seen
enough of mountain life and savage warfare, and was eager to
return to the abodes of civilization. He and six others, among
whom were a Mr. Foy, of Mississippi, Mr. Alfred K. Stephens, of
St. Louis, and two grandsons of the celebrated Daniel Boon, set
out together, in advance of Sublette's party, thinking they would
make their way through the mountains.
It was just five days after the battle of the swamp that these
seven companions were making their way through Jackson's Hole, a
valley not far from the three Tetons, when, as they were
descending a hill, a party of Blackfeet that lay in ambush
started up with terrific yells. The horse of the young Bostonian,
who was in front, wheeled round with affright, and threw his
unskilled rider. The young man scrambled up the side of the hill,
but, unaccustomed to such wild scenes, lost his presence of mind,
and stood, as if paralyzed, on the edge of a bank, until the
Blackfeet came up and slew him on the spot. His comrades had fled
on the first alarm; but two of them, Foy and Stephens, seeing his
danger, paused when they got half way up the hill, turned back,
dismounted, and hastened to his assistance. Foy was instantly
killed. Stephens was severely wounded, but escaped, to die five
days afterward. The survivors returned to the camp of Captain
Sublette, bringing tidings of this new disaster. That hardy
leader, as soon as he could bear the journey, set out on his
return to St. Louis, accompanied by Campbell. As they had a
number of pack-horses richly laden with peltries to convoy, they
chose a different route through the mountains, out of the way, as
they hoped, of the lurking bands of Blackfeet. They succeeded in
making the frontier in safety. We remember to have seen them with
their band, about two or three months afterward, passing through
a skirt of woodland in the upper part of Missouri. Their long
cavalcade stretched in single file for nearly half a mile.
Sublette still wore his arm in a sling. The mountaineers in their
rude hunting dresses, armed with rifles and roughly mounted, and
leading their pack-horses down a hill of the forest, looked like
banditti returning with plunder. On the top of some of the packs
were perched several half-breed children, perfect little imps,
with wild black eyes glaring from among elf locks. These, I was
told, were children of the trappers; pledges of love from their
squaw spouses in the wilderness.
Content of CHAPTER 6 [Washington Irving's book: The Adventures of Captain Bonneville]
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