The meeting of associated bands, who have been separated from each other onthese hazardous enterprises, is always interesting; each having its tales of perilsand adventures to relate. Such was the case with the various detachments ofCaptain Bonneville's company, thus brought together on Horse Creek. Here wasthe detachment of fifty men which he had sent from Salmon River, in thepreceding month of November, to winter on Snake River. They had met withmany crosses and losses in the course of their spring hunt, not so much fromIndians as from white men. They had come in competition with rival trappingparties, particularly one belonging to the Rocky Mountain Fur Company; and theyhad long stories to relate of their manoeuvres to forestall or distress each other. Infact, in these virulent and sordid competitions, the trappers of each party weremore intent upon injuring their rivals, than benefitting themselves; breaking eachother's traps, trampling and tearing to pieces the beaver lodges, and doing everything in their power to mar the success of the hunt. We forbear to detail thesepitiful contentions.
The most lamentable tale of disasters, however, that Captain Bonneville had tohear, was from a partisan, whom he had detached in the preceding year, withtwenty men, to hunt through the outskirts of the Crow country, and on the tributary streams ofthe Yellowstone; whence he was to proceed and join him in hiswinter quarters on Salmon River. This partisan appeared at the rendezvouswithout his party, and a sorrowful tale of disasters had he to relate. In hunting theCrow country, he fell in with a village of that tribe; notorious rogues, jockeys,and horse stealers, and errant scamperers of the mountains. These decoyed most ofhis men to desert, and carry off horses, traps, and accoutrements. When heattempted to retake the deserters, the Crow warriors ruffled up to him and declaredthe deserters were their good friends, had determined to remain among them, andshould not be molested. The poor partisan, therefore, was fain to leave hisvagabonds among these birds of their own feather, and being too weak in numbersto attempt the dangerous pass across the mountains to meet Captain Bonneville onSalmon River, he made, with the few that remained faithful to him, for theneighborhood of Tullock's Fort, on the Yellowstone, under the protection of whichhe went into winter quarters.
He soon found out that the neighborhood of the fort was nearly as bad as theneighborhood of the Crows. His men were continually stealing away thither, withwhatever beaver skins they could secrete or lay their hands on. These they wouldexchange with the hangers-on of the fort for whiskey, and then revel in drunkenessand debauchery.
The unlucky partisan made another move. Associating with his party a few freetrappers, whom he met with in this neighborhood, he started off early in the springto trap on the head waters of Powder River. In the course of the journey, hishorses were so much jaded in traversing a steep mountain, that he was induced toturn them loose to graze during the night. The place was lonely; the path wasrugged; there was not the sign of an Indian in the neighborhood; not a blade ofgrass that had been turned by a footstep. But who can calculate on security in themidst of the Indian country, where the foe lurks in silence and secrecy, and seemsto come and go on the wings of the wind? The horses had scarce been turnedloose, when a couple of Arickara (or Rickaree) warriors entered the camp. Theyaffected a frank and friendly demeanor; but their appearance and movementsawakened the suspicions of some of the veteran trappers, well versed in Indianwiles. Convinced that they were spies sent on some sinister errand, they took themin custody, and set to work to drive in the horses. It was too late -- the horses werealready gone. In fact, a war party of Arickaras had been hovering on their trail forseveral days, watching with the patience and perseverance of Indians, for somemoment of negligence and fancied security, to make a successful swoop. The twospies had evidently been sent into the camp to create a diversion, while theirconfederates carried off the spoil.
The unlucky partisan, thus robbed of his horses, turned furiously on hisprisoners, ordered them to be bound hand and foot, and swore to put them to deathunless his property were restored. The robbers, who soon found that their spieswere in captivity, now made their appearance on horseback, and held a parley. Thesight of them, mounted on the very horses they had stolen, set the blood of themountaineers in a ferment; but it was useless to attack them, as they would havebut to turn their steeds and scamper out of the reach of pedestrians. A negotiationwas now attempted. The Arickaras offered what they considered fair terms; tobarter one horse, or even two horses, for a prisoner. The mountaineers spurned attheir offer, and declared that, unless all the horses were relinquished, the prisonersshould be burnt to death. To give force to their threat, a pyre of logs and fagotswas heaped up and kindled into a blaze.
The parley continued; the Arickaras released one horse and then another, inearnest of their proposition; finding, however, that nothing short of therelinquishment of all their spoils would purchase the lives of the captives, theyabandoned them to their fate, moving off with many parting words and lamentablehowlings. The prisoners seeing them depart, and knowing the horrible fate thatawaited them, made a desperate effort to escape. They partially succeeded, butwere severely wounded and retaken; then dragged to the blazing pyre, and burnt todeath in the sight of their retreating comrades.
Such are the savage cruelties that white men learn to practise, who mingle insavage life; and such are the acts that lead to terrible recrimination on the part ofthe Indians. Should we hear of any atrocities committed by the Arickaras uponcaptive white men, let this signal and recent provocation be borne in mind.
Individual cases of the kind dwell in the recollections of whole tribes; and it is apoint of honor and conscience to revenge them.
The loss of his horses completed the ruin of the unlucky partisan. It was out ofhis power to prosecute his hunting, or to maintain his party; the only thought nowwas how to get back to civilized life. At the first water-course, his men builtcanoes, and committed themselves to the stream. Some engaged themselves atvarious trading establishments at which they touched, others got back to thesettlements. As to the partisan, he found an opportunity to make his way to therendezvous at Green River Valley; which he reached in time to render to CaptainBonneville this forlorn account of his misadventures. [Return to Contents].
