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.
