Jack in the Rockies: A Boy's Adventures with a Pack Train

by George Bird Grinnell

  CHAPTER IV

  OLD FRIENDS AND NEW

  Of course there were no known hostiles in the country, but at thesame time he recalled Hugh's advice, not to let any Indians cometoo close to him. These men were galloping along and would soonovertake him; and if, by any chance they should happen to be Sioux,from Sitting Bull's camp, or worthless Indians of any tribe thathe did not know, they might take his horse and gun, even if theydid nothing worse. He decided then that he would find out who theywere, and drawing up his horse on a little rise of ground, hedismounted and stood behind it, facing them with his rifle barrelresting in the saddle. The Indians were now only three or fourhundred yards off, but when Jack did this they at once halted, andturning toward each other, seemed to consult. Then, one of them,raising his hands high in the air, held his gun above his head, andafter handing it over to his companion, struck his horse with hisquirt and galloped toward Jack, while the other man remained wherehe was.

  The swift little pony was soon within easy rifle shot, and as itsrider drew nearer and nearer, Jack seemed to recognize somethingfamiliar in the look of the man, yet he could hardly tell what itwas; but when he was within speaking distance the man called out;"Why, don't you know me, Master Jack? I'm Hezekiah;" and instantlyJack recognized his negro friend of the Blackfoot camp. He calledback to him; "Hello, Hezekiah! come on; I didn't know who youwere." And Hezekiah, turning about, waved to his companion, whostarted toward them.

  Jack and Hezekiah shook hands, and Hezekiah said; "You done mightywell to stop us, Master Jack; you're making a good prairie man allright, and I'm glad to see it. Plenty Indians traveling throughthis country, back and forth, that would be willing to kill you foryour horse and gun; and it ain't far off to the line, and they'dskip across and go to Sitting Bull's camp, and nobody'd ever knowwho done it. It's just like what all the Piegans said last year,after the Medicine Lodge, that you was sure goin' to make a goodwarrior."

  "Well Hezekiah," said Jack, "I don't know as I'd have stopped youif Hugh hadn't spoken to me about that only this morning. He saidthat there were Sioux traveling back and forth, and that I hadbetter not let any Indians come up close to me until I knew whothey were. That's the reason I stopped you." At this moment theother Indian rode up, and handing his gun to Hezekiah, shook handscordially with Jack. It was Bull Calf, one of his companions onthe trip to the Grassy Lakes, where Jack had shot the Assinaboinewho was trying to steal horses from the camp; a young man of goodfamily whom he knew very well, and with whom he had been on severalhunting excursions.

  "Where's the camp Hezekiah?" asked Jack. "Hugh and Joe have goneon ahead with the pack train, and I stopped behind to kill a deer.We're looking for your camp, and going to stay a little while withyou, and then we're going off south into the mountains."

  "The camp isn't far off Master Jack," said Hezekiah. "I expect it'sright over there on Muddy Creek; somewhere in that timber. Somedays ago they left Carroll, and are moving south now after buffalo;but Bull Calf, here, and me, we came 'round by the mountains here,to see if we couldn't kill some sheep. I want to get a couple ofshirts made, and my woman says she'd rather make 'em of sheep thanof antelope.

  "I expect we'll strike the camp this afternoon somewhere and maybewe'd better be starting right along now." They mounted, and rodeon over the prairie. Jack had many questions to ask about what hadhappened in the Piegan camp during the winter, for though Joe hadtold him much, there were still plenty of matters to be discussed.Hezekiah and Bull Calf wanted to ride fast, but Jack did not feellike doing so with his load, so he put the two shoulders of thedeer on Bull Calf's horse, and tied down what he carried so thatit would not shake, and they went on at a good pace. An hour ortwo of brisk riding brought them close to the stream; but beforethey reached it they saw the trail where the camp had passed. Therewere tracks of a great band of horses, and many scratches left bytravois poles; and in the trail there were a number of fresherhorse tracks, which showed where Hugh and Joe and the pack animalshad passed along after the camp.

  Jack had a feeling as if he were almost home. It seemed funny tohim to think how eager he was to meet all the brown-skinned friendsthat he had left so many months before, and how much pleasure hefelt in having come across these two on the prairie. Two hoursbefore sundown they began to see horses dotted over the hills aheadof them; and a little later they rode out into a broad open spacein the river bottom, where stood a circle of white lodges, whichthey knew was the Piegan camp.

  "Where do you suppose Hugh will camp, Hezekiah?" said Jack, ashe ran his eye over the lodges, each one of which looked likeevery other lodge. It was evident that he could tell nothing bylooking at the lodges, and he must look for the horses; and just asHezekiah replied, he thought he saw old Baldy tied in front of alodge on the opposite side of the circle.

  "Why, I reckon he'll camp with Joe's people, Master Jack," saidHezekiah. "That's the Fat Roasters, you know, and they're overthere across the circle. I reckon that's the old man now, drivin'pins for the lodge."

  "Yes, that's it, Hezekiah," said Jack: "I see him now. I'll rideover there and get rid of my meat, and sometime to-night orto-morrow I hope to come to your lodge."

  "Please do, Master Jack, and we'll be mighty glad to see you. Iwant to have you see the childern, too; they've grown a heap sinceyou was here last."

  As Jack stopped in front of the lodge, Hugh looked up from his taskand said, "Well, you've got here all right, son. Killed somethin'too, I reckon."

  "Yes," said Jack, "I killed a barren doe, and I reckon we've gotmeat enough to keep us going for a few days. I gave the shouldersto Bull Calf and Hezekiah, whom I met out here on the prairie, butI've got the hams here. Shall I turn Pawnee loose, or shall I tiehim up here by old Baldy?"

  "Better tie him up here," said Hugh. "I want to make arrangementswith some young fellow to herd our horses; Joe's gone off now totry to do that. We've got the lodge up, and now pretty quick we'llhave a fire and cook supper."

  The news of the arrival of the strangers had already spread throughthe camp, and that night Hugh and Jack and Joe were invited tofeasts at several lodges. They saw many of their friends: old JohnMonroe, Little Plume, Last Bull, and of course Fox Eye, and manyothers. Old Iron Shirt came around to their lodge, and shook handscordially with Jack, from whom he accepted a plug of tobacco anda red silk handkerchief. It was late before the festivities wereover, and when they turned into their blankets they were soonasleep.

  While they were at breakfast next morning, Jack told Hugh about thesheep that he had seen on the prairie the day before, and how hehad been about to kill the old ewe, and then had thought it betternot to do so.

  "You did just right, son," said Hugh; "I've said to you a good manytimes never to kill anything that you don't want, and can't use,and I believe that's the way to do. You were right not to kill theold ewe also because she wouldn't have been good for anything;she'd have been poor from suckling her lamb, and you'd have justkilled her without getting any good out of it. Besides that, thelamb would have starved to death if you hadn't killed it, and ifyou had killed it it would'nt have been no good. No, you did right;you used good sense, and I like men, or boys either, to use sense."

  "Well, Hugh, I'm glad I didn't shoot. Of course, maybe I wouldn'thave killed the ewe anyhow, but I'd have tried. But what I wantedto ask you about was what those sheep were doing down there on theprairie. I supposed that sheep only lived on high mountains, orelse in the very roughest kind of bad-lands. They're called RockyMountain sheep; that ought to mean that they live in the RockyMountains."

  "Well now, son, you're like a good many people that think thatsheep ain't found anywhere except in the mountains, but that's abig mistake. In old times sheep were found on the prairie justabout as much as they were found in the mountains. I expect theywere always in the mountains, and in old times they were alwayson the prairie too. It has got so now that they're pretty scarceon the prairie, because so many people traveling around all thetime shoot at them; but in old times it was no uncommon sight
tosee sheep feeding right in among the buffalo, and we often usedto see them all mixed up with the antelope, on the flat prairie.Of course, sheep always like to be somewhere within reach of thebuttes or mountains, or rough bad-lands, that they can run to ifthey get scared, but as for them not being on the prairie, theway some people think, that's all a mistake. Up here in Montana,and in Dakota and Nebraska and Wyoming, I have seen them on theprairie, a long way from any hills. Why, I've even seen them out inthe sand-hills, up not very far from the head of the Dismal River,and south of the Loup, but I suppose they came from up the Platte,where there are bad-lands and buttes, like Scott's Bluffs andChimney Rock. But if ever people tell you that sheep are found onlyamong the rocks, don't you believe them. I know you won't afterto-day, because you saw them on the prairie yourself."

  "Yes, Hugh, that's so; but just as you say, they started to runback to the rocks when they were scared."

  "Why son, there's no better sheep country in America to-day, Ibelieve, than within a day's ride of here. You take the MissouriRiver bad-lands, and the Little Rockies, the Judith Mountains, theLittle Belts, the Moccasins, and the Bear's Paw; they're all goodsheep countries, and always have been ever since I've been in thecountry; and I reckon if you ask any of the old Indians they'lltell you just the same thing. Why, years and years ago, before theIndians got bad, there was no place where there were more mountainsheep than right along the Yellowstone, where the bluffs don't runmore than a couple of hundred feet high, and there's a flat bottombelow them, and just rolling prairie above."

  "Well, I didn't know this at all, Hugh," said Jack, "and yesterdaywhen I saw those animals on that little ridge, I could not believethat they were sheep. I thought I must be mistaken, that they mustbe queer colored antelope, but then of course I saw the sheep hornsand I knew that I wasn't mistaken."

  "There's lots to learn about sheep yet, son; and you and I are notthe only people that don't know much about them. The fact is, Idon't believe anybody knows much about them.

  "I expect there's more than one kind of sheep in the country, too.I have heard about a white sheep that they find away up north; andthen a great many years ago, once when I went up north to PeaceRiver, I killed a sheep that was pretty nearly black, and had blackhorns. I never saw but one little bunch of them, and killed one outof it, a yearling ewe; she was not like any other animal I ever sawbefore."

  Not long after breakfast Hugh and Jack started out to make a roundof the camp, and to call upon their friends. As they were passing anice new lodge, a tall, slender, straight young man came out fromit, and after hesitating a moment as he looked at them, walked upto Hugh, and extending his hand, said, "How d'ye do, Mr. Johnson. Iguess you don't know me, but I've heard of you pretty near all mylife. I'm Billy Jackson, a son of old Thomas Jackson, whom you mayhave known a long way back, and the nephew of John Monroe."

  "Why yes, sure," said Hugh, "I've heard of you, and I used to knowyour mother right well. I'm glad to see you. Ain't you the youngman that was with General Custer in the Black Hills, and afterwardsscouted for Miles, down on the Yellowstone? or was it your brother?I think you're the man."

  "Yes, I'm the man" said Jackson. "Bob scouted for Miles, too, andwe both did a good deal of riding down there during the last of thewars, and now I've come up here to live in the Piegan camp."

  "I'm glad to see you," said Hugh. "Let me make you acquainted withJack Danvers; he and I've traveled together now for two or threeyears, and we spent last summer here in Piegan camp."

  Jack and Billy Jackson shook hands together, and they parted; butHugh asked Jackson to come round and eat with them that night,which the young man said he would do. He was a handsome fellow,lean and active; and after they had left him Hugh said to Jack,"Take notice of that young man, and if you've occasion to go on theprairie with him, do as he says. I've heard of him; he's a goodman, brave, and knows the prairie well, and, at the same time, hehas good sense, and isn't likely to get himself or his friends intoany trouble."

  At Little Plume's lodge they were made very welcome. His wifehad apparently thought that they would come around that day, andas soon as they sat down in the lodge, food was set before them:boiled buffalo heart and back fat, and berry pemmican, with stewedservice-berries, made a tempting feast, and Jack ate heartily of it.

  Little Plume told them that the next day the camp would move south,and they hoped that before they got to the Musselshell, or if not,soon after crossing it, they would find buffalo. Hereabouts nearthe Missouri, there were but few, chiefly bulls. Further south,between the Musselshell and the Yellowstone, scouts had reportedgreat numbers of buffalo. That evening, Last Bull, Iron Shirt,and Fox Eye, Jackson and Little Plume, all came to the lodge, andthey had a feast; and after all had eaten, there was much generalconversation, but no formal speeches. Much of the conversation wasin the Piegan tongue, which Jack as yet could hardly understand,but Jackson talked much to him in English, and told someentertaining stories. Among them was one of an adventure that hehad had a year or two before, only a short distance from where theywere now, and which had in it something of humor, and a little ofdanger. Jackson said:

  "In the fall of 1879, Paul Sandusky, Jo Hamilton and I built ourwinter quarters on Flat Willow Creek, about twenty miles east ofthe Snowy Mountains. The country was then still infested withroving war parties from the different tribes, some coming fromSitting Bull's camp on the Big Bend of Milk River.

  "As we intended to do some trading with the friendly tribes,especially the Crows and Blackfeet, we built commodious quarters,consisting of two buildings facing each other and about forty feetapart, and containing altogether five rooms. Joining on to the'Fort'--as we called it--we constructed a high stockade corral forthe horses.

  "Game of all kinds was very plenty, and bands of elk and antelopecould be seen almost daily within a mile or so of our place. Gladto have company, we gave free quarters to all hunters and trapperswho cared to stop with us, and by March 1 we numbered eleven men,including our cook, 'Nigger Andy.'

  "A few hundred yards below our fort a little creek, which we namedBeaver Castor, joined the Flat Willow. For some miles above itsmouth it flowed through a deep cut in the prairie, bordered withsage brush and willows. At its junction with the Flat Willow, inthe V formed by the two creeks, was quite a high butte. It slopedup very gently from the Flat Willow side, but was almost a cut bankon the Beaver Castor side.

  "This butte was our watch tower. From its summit we could see milesand miles of the surrounding country.

  "One morning in March most of the men went out antelope hunting,leaving four of us in camp--Jo Healy, laid up with rheumatism;Harry Morgan, the herder; the cook and myself. About ten o'clockthis morning I concluded to take a hunt, and before catching up ahorse I climbed the butte to see if I could spy a band of elk orantelope near by. As soon as I reached the summit I saw some movingforms on the prairie not far off, near Beaver Castor, and adjustingmy glass, I found that they were a large war party of Indiansafoot. They also saw me, for I saw several of them stop and leveltheir telescope at me. I took pains to let them know I was not anIndian, for I strutted about with long strides and faced them witharms akimbo. Finally, as they came close, I backed down from thesummit, very slowly, and placing a buffalo chip on top of a bush,so as to make them think I was still watching them, I dashed forthe fort.

  "I found that the horse-herder had caught up an animal and goneout hunting; so grabbing a lariat I ran out to drive in the band,which was grazing nearly a mile from the house. I went down asfast as I could run, but found that I couldn't get within ropingdistance of a single animal. They had been in the corral all nightas usual, and in spite of my efforts they kept straggling andfeeding along, and every minute I expected the war party to swoopdown on me. However, I finally got them home and into the corral,and, my clothing wet with perspiration, I sat down to get my wind.

  "In the meantime Andy had not been idle. He had placed all ourspare arms and ammunition by the loopholes, had dragged Healy,bed and all, to a place
of vantage, where he could shoot withouthurting his rheumatic legs, and had then gone on preparing ourdinner. So we waited and watched, expecting every minute to beattacked. But no Indians came. We had our dinner, and as theafternoon passed the boys kept straggling in by ones and twos,until by five all were home. None of them had seen any Indians.

  "Finally I proposed that two or three of us get our horses and makea reconnoissance.

  "'We don't want no horses,' said Sagebrush Charlie, 'just you andme go up on the butte and take a look from there.'

  "I didn't like the proposition, for I surmised that the war partywere concealed in the brush on Beaver Castor, probably near thebutte. But on the other hand I didn't care to be bluffed, so I wentwith him.

  "As we neared the top of the butte we proceeded very cautiously,moving only a step at a time. Only a few yards more and we wouldhave reached the summit, when we saw that an Indian on theopposite side of the butte was looking at us. We could see nothingof him but his head, and of course he could see only our heads.Thus we stood facing each other for what to me seemed a longtime. 'Shall we shoot?' asked Sagebrush. 'No,' I replied. 'If weadvance to shoot he will have the best of it, and if he advanceswe will have the edge on him.' So we continued to stare at him.After a while I saw that the Indian was beginning to back downout of sight, so I did the same. I made only a step and he haddisappeared, but I kept backing away, watching the top of thebutte, with rifle cocked ready to shoot in an instant. When halfway down I turned to run and saw Sagebrush just disappearing aroundthe corner of the fort. Until then I had supposed that he was atmy side. So calling him some names I fairly flew down the hill,expecting every minute to have a shower of bullets about my ears.But I too reached the fort without any sign from the enemy.

  "When I got inside I found the boys joking Sagebrush about leavingme, and seeing that he was ashamed of himself I said nothing tohim, although I was quite angry.

  "As soon as it was dark we put on a double guard, and keptourselves in readiness for an attack. Late in the evening weconcluded that the Indians would make a daylight raid on us, so wearranged about guard duty and slept by turns. However, we heardnothing of our dusky friends, and at six o'clock the cook calledbreakfast as usual. The horses had now been in the corral nearlytwenty-four hours and were very hungry, so four of us saddled upand went out to make a big circle and find out if our friends hadleft us. We went down Flat Willow a mile or more, then swung uponto the prairie, crossed Beaver Castor and headed home, but couldsee no Indian signs. Finally we went up on top of the butte, whereSagebrush and I had seen the Indian the night before. There in theloose shale we found his tracks, and saw that after backing downa little ways he had, like us, turned and run by mighty leaps tothe bottom. There we found a great number of tracks and a lot ofmoccasins, some meat, etc., and following the trail we found thatthe Indians had crossed Beaver Castor and gone up on the prairie,where in the thick dry grass we lost all traces of them, andconcluding that they had left we went home and turned the horsesout to feed, with a herder and one other man to herd them.

  "After dinner, perhaps two or three o'clock, we saw a person onfoot come down to the creek from the prairie, about half a milebelow the house. I went down to see who it was, and found to mysurprise that it was a lone Indian woman, and as soon as I cameup to her she began to talk to me in a language which I at onceknew to be Nez Perces, but which I could not understand. I repliedto her in Sioux, and found that she understood and could speak alittle of that tongue, and by piecing it out with signs we gotalong very well. I told her to go up to the fort with me and getsomething to eat, and afterward she could tell us her story. Whenwe reached the place the boys all crowded around and stared at her,and asked all sorts of questions, but I told them to wait, and wewould hear what she had to say.

  "The woman didn't seem to be at all embarrassed. She sat at thetable and calmly and slowly ate the food the cook set before her,not heeding the ten or eleven pairs of eyes that were intentlywatching her. After she had finished eating I asked her to tell uswhere she had come from, where she was going and all about herself,and I interpreted her tale, sentence by sentence, to the boys. Shesaid: 'I came from Sitting Bull's camp on Milk River, where someof my people, Nez Perces, are living with the Sioux. Two yearsago, my son went with some Sioux and Nez Perces to war against theCrows. They had a big fight on the Yellowstone, and it was supposedthat my son was killed. But not long ago I heard that the Crowshad captured my boy, and that he is still living and in the Crowcamp. Having no relatives and no husband, I made up my mind to goand live with my son, and started out; this is the twenty-third daysince I left Milk River. I have been starved most of the time andam very tired.'

  "'Hush!' said one of the boys, 'That's too durned thin. I move thatwe hang her right now.'

  "At this, every one began to talk at once. Some said she was a spy,others that she was all right.

  "Finally I said to her, 'The boys, some of them, think you are nottelling the truth. Yesterday a big war party was here, and theythink you belong to that outfit.'

  "'How they lie,' she interposed. 'I haven't seen an Indian since Ileft Milk River.'

  "'That may be,' I replied, 'you cannot blame the boys for beinga little suspicious. However, they will not harm you. You are assafe here as you would be among your own people. Just as soon asthis snow goes, one of our men will start for the Yellowstone witha four-horse team after some provisions, and you can go with him.From there it is only a short distance to the Crow camp. In themeantime you can stay with us here and rest up. Throw off your robeand make yourself at home.'

  "'I like what you say,' she replied, 'but I am afraid of all thesemen. Let me stay close by you.'

  "Wherever I went that afternoon she followed me, and when it cametime to turn in I made her a bed of buffalo robes behind thecounter. Some of the boys spread down in the room and others in thecook house.

  "'I don't like this,' the woman said to me. 'I am afraid to sleepthere; let me make my bed down beside yours.'

  "'Don't fear,' I replied, 'no harm will come to you. No one in thisplace cares for you or wishes to harm you.'

  "'Well, then,' she said, 'if that is so I will step out a minuteand then go to bed.'

  "Now the door to this room was fastened from the inside, when wewished it, by two wooden bars; outside we closed it merely by arawhide thong and pin. Some of us were always at home, and whenwe all left this room we fastened the door with the thong to keepthe dogs and the cold air out. As the woman started to go out Iwent up to the counter and took my six-shooter, intending tofollow her out, but quicker than a flash she darted through thedoor, and closed and fastened it with the thong and pin. Of courseall the boys in the room made a rush, and two of us getting ourfingers between the door and the jamb gave a strong jerk, snappedthe fastening and we all ran out. The woman had disappeared in thedarkness, but we could still hear her footsteps as she ran towardthe brush. Suddenly she gave a peculiar kind of a whistle and fromall around in the brush she was answered by the hooting of owls. Weall rushed back into the fort, put out the lights and made readyfor an attack.

  "After an hour or so the boys began to talk. 'I knowed,' said one,'that she was a spy.'

  "'Didn't I say to hang her,' exclaimed another. 'You fellers thatthought she was all right are sure soft.'

  "We all sat up until long after daylight, and not until eight ornine o'clock did any one turn in. But we were not attacked, nor didwe see the woman again.

  "Several weeks afterward, when Hamilton went to the Yellowstoneafter supplies, he learned that this woman had stopped at the'Circle N' ranch and that they had lost one hundred and fortyhorses."