A circumstance happened on the evening preceding our attack which caused me the deepest regret. While the spies were reconnoitering , they perceived two Indians, as they supposed, leave the enemy’s camp, and proceed down the cañon. This circumstance they reported to me. I ordered them to return, and kill them if they could find them. They went in pursuit of the two stragglers, and when they came in sight of them they had their robes over their heads, and were kneeling down over a fire. They fired, and one of the two fell mortally wounded; the other sprang out of his robe, when, to their surprise, they saw he was a white man. They, however, took him prisoner, and brought him to my camp. I was absent at their return; but on the following morning I remarked a very dejected look on their countenances, and I asked them what was the matter.
“We have done very bad,” said one; “we have reddened our hands with the blood of the white man.”
“Well, how did it occur?” I inquired.
“Ask that white man, and he will tell you all.”
I walked up to the unhappy prisoner, whose looks betrayed the keenest anguish, and addressed him in English.
“How are you, my friend?”
He started as if electrified, and looked me closely in the face.
“What brought you here?” I continued.
“I was brought here by these Indians, who killed my companion while we were building a fire to warm ourselves. I suppose I am brought here to be killed also?”
“No, my friend,” I said, “you are safe. The Crows never kill white men.”
“Are these Crows?”
“Yes.”
“Well, well! Then you must be Mr. Beckwourth?”
“Yes, that is my name. And now, without the least fear of danger, relate the occurrence fairly: if my warriors have killed a white man intentionally, they shall be punished.”
He then related how he and his companion went into the cañon, and how they made a fire to render themselves comfortable away from the Indian camp; how that their robes were over their heads, entirely concealing their faces from view, and that he felt fully confident that my warriors, in firing upon them, had mistaken them for Indians.
“Well,” I said, “since the mistake is so apparent, you will greatly serve me to make the same statement to your companions when you return to your camp; for the Crows are entirely innocent of any design to shed the blood of the white man, and it would be deplorable for any misunderstanding to arise in consequence of this lamentable occurrence.”
“I shall make a fair statement of the fact,” he said, “and should be very sorry to be the means of any trouble.”
He then informed me that he and his late companion were trappers; that his party were in winter-quarters, and encamped with the main body of the Snakes; and that they had come out with this party after meat. I then gave him my reasons for attacking the Snakes, and begged him to commend me to all the old mountaineers.
“There is not a day passes,” he said, “but someone mentions you, to wonder where you are, and what you are now doing. I can tell them all that I have seen you, and conversed with you.”
I then told him he was at liberty to go at any time; that he could take all the horses belonging to him, and all else that he needed. We assisted him with the body of his unhappy friend upon the back of a horse, and, bidding me adieu, he departed.
The Snakes dispatched a deputation of forty warriors and a medicine chief to the Crows to negotiate peace. They attached all the blame of the late rupture to the Utahs, whom, they said, they could not control, and that the death of our six young warriors was entirely against their wish.
This we knew was false, for there were ten Snakes to one Utah in the camp at the time of the outrage. They also pleaded that they had tried for a long time to induce the Utahs to return home, knowing that they were enemies to the Crows. We at length adjusted the conditions of peace, smoked the calumet, and, after an exchange of presents, they returned to their home. About this time a brave, named Big Rain, was elected chief of the village for the term of six moons. His duties were to superintend all the village removals, to select sites for camps, order surrounds; in short, he was a kind of mayor, and alone subject to the head chief. Big Rain possessed the most beautiful squaw in the whole village; she was the admiration of every young brave, and all were plotting (myself among the rest) to win her away from her proud lord. I had spoken to her on several occasions, and, whenever opportunity offered, would tender her my most ceremonious obeisance; but she never favored me with any return. Not only was she beautiful, but she was very intelligent, and as proud as Lucifer; and the gorgeous dyes of the peacock were not more variegated or more showy than her attire. Since the elevation of her husband, I fancied that she assumed rather haughtier airs; and I determined to steal her from her lord, be the consequences what they might.
I went one evening to her brother’s lodge, and acquainted him that there was a woman in our village that I loved, and that I must have her at all hazards.
“Well, warrior,” said he, “if it is any of my relatives, I will assist you all in my power. You are a great brave, and have gained many victories for us, and it is but right that your desires should be gratified.”
“Thank you,” said I; “but I will try alone first, and if I do not succeed, then I shall be very glad of your assistance.”
As an acknowledgment for the prompt tender of his services, I presented him with a quantity of tobacco. “Now,” added I, “I want you to call in all your neighbors to-night, and let them smoke as long as they please. After they are assembled, bar the door of your lodge, and amuse them as long as you can with the rehearsal of your adventures. In the meantime, I will be engaged.”
I then went to my bosom friend and brother, and made part to him of what I had in hand, which revelation greatly amused him. I requested him to act as sentry over the lodge where they were all smoking — Big Rain with the rest, for I had seen him enter — and remain there until he was satisfied they had filled their pipes for the last time, and then to call out to me, but to mislead them in the place where he was addressing me. This he promised to perform, and we both started on our errands.
I went to Big Rain’s lodge, dressed and painted in the extreme of the fashion, and saw the lady reclining, half asleep, upon her couch, and several of her female relatives asleep about the room. Nothing daunted, I strode to the couch of Mrs. Big Rain, and laid my hand gently on her brow.
She started up, saying, “Who is here?”
“Hush!” I replied; “it is I.”
“What do you want here?”
“I have come to see you, because I love you.”
“Don’t you know that I am the chief’s wife?”
“Yes, I know it; but he does not love you as I do. He never goes to war, but stays idly in the village. I am a great brave, and always go to war. I can paint your face, and bring you fine horses; but so long as you are the wife of Big Rain, he will never paint your face with new coos.”
“My husband will kill you.”
“Well, then the Crows will talk of you for many winters, and say that the great brave, ‘The Bloody Arm,’ died for a pretty woman.”
“Your father,” she said, “will lose all his horses, and all his other property, and will become poor in his old age. I respect your father, and all your relatives, and my heart would cry to see them poor.”
“If my father loses his horses, I can steal more from our enemies. He would be proud to lose his horses if his son could get a wife as handsome as you are. You can go to war with me, and carry my shield. With you by my side, I could kill a great many enemies, and bring home many scalps. Then we could often dance, and our hearts would be made merry and glad.”
“Go now,” she pleaded; “for if my husband should return, and find you here, he would be very angry, and I fear he would kill you. Go! go! for your own sake, and for mine, and for the love you have for the Crows, go!”
“No,” said I, “I will not go until you give me a pledge
that you will be mine when an opportunity offers for me to take you away.”
She hesitated for a moment, and then slipped a ring off her finger and placed it on mine. All I now had to do was to watch for a favorable chance to take her away with me on some of my excursions. Just as I was about to leave, my friend called me as though I had been three miles away. I went out and joined him. “What luck?” inquired he.
“Good,” said I.
“Prove it to me, I will believe,” said my friend. I held out my finger to him, displaying the ring. “Enough,” said he; “but I could not otherwise have believed it.”
The following day, with six warriors in full costume, I visited Big Rain at his lodge.
“Ah!” said he, “you are going on a war-excursion, my friend?”
“No,” I answered. “We came to see which way you are going to move, how many days you will travel, and how far each day; so that we may find good places to encamp, and know where to find the village in case we should encounter the enemy.”
“You are very kind,” said he; “then you intend to be my spy. I have many brothers and other relatives among the braves, but not one has ever made me that offer.”
“No,” thought I, “they don’t care as much about your wife as I do.”
“Go,” said he, “and the Great Spirit will protect you.”
I then left, accompanied by my six warriors. The second day out, in the afternoon, as we were traveling slowly along, I discovered, at about a mile distance, a party of twenty-seven Black Foot warriors, just emerging from the Bad Pass. We immediately retraced our steps toward home, and traveled all night, until we arrived within three miles of the village. When within sight, we telegraphed with the aid of a small looking-glass, which the Crow scouts usually carry, and every motion of which is understood in the village. I made a signal that I had discovered the enemy, and a second that they were approaching. In a moment I could discover a great stir in the village. When we arrived, I reported to his honor, Big Rain, how many we had seen, what tribe they were, where they had passed the previous night, and where they could then be found. The chief then ordered his madam to bring us some water, an order she complied with, smiling coquettishly at me the while.
I then retired to my lodge to change my dress, as portions of it were stained with our travel through the mountains. While I was in my lodge, madam came over with a splendid war-horse, which her husband had sent me, on which to return and fight the Black Feet I had just discovered. She said, “My husband has sent this war-horse to the Bloody Arm, and requests him to lead the Crows to the enemy.”
I was soon on the road, with enough mounted warriors to eat the whole party of the enemy; for they were only a short distance from our village, and, desirous of excitement, every one wished to go. Judging where the enemy would encamp that night, we traveled on until we arrived near the anticipated encampment.
Previous to starting, my little wife, who, by being the wife of a great brave, was as good as any woman, wished to bear me company and carry my shield. But I refused her, alleging that the danger was too great, and promising to paint her face when I returned. One of my sisters then volunteered, and I accepted her offer, taking her with me to carry my shield and lead my war-horse.
As soon as it was light enough in the morning, I sent out small parties in all directions to look for their trail, that we might track them to their den. In ten or fifteen minutes after the parties left, we heard the report of a gun, and the war-hoop raised. The Crows assembled in the direction of the report, all drawing toward a centre. When I arrived, I saw that the Black Feet had chosen a strong position, and that we had another fort to storm. It was built partly by nature, but human industry had improved the stronghold. It was low water, and there was a pile of drift on a naked sand-bar, and trees had been felled from the bank upon the drift-pile, forming quite a shelter. Over this position the enemy was placed, protected with a breast-work formed of timber taken from the drift. When I reached the ground, I saw two of our reckless braves talking carelessly under the enemy in this in closed space, as if they had been in a secure lodge. I regarded them for a moment, and, thinking to display as much bravery as they had, I dismounted and ran to the place, although several shots were fired at me from the fort, none of which took effect.
“What are you here for?” inquired one of them of me.
“In the first place,” I said, “tell me what you are here for.”
“Why we are old warriors, and you are not.”
“If I am not an old warrior,” I answered, “I will be one.”
I then regarded the rough flooring overhead, which separated us from our foes, and perceived an aperture hardly large enough to admit my fist. I stood under it a moment, and as the warriors were moving about, one of them stepped over the aperture and remained there. I thrust my lance up with my whole force, and drew it back reeking with blood.
“There, old warriors,” said I to my two companions, “who has drawn the first blood now? Who struck them first? Old warriors, or a young brave? How do you like the look of my lance? Do you see it?”
“Yes, yes, we see it. You have done well, young brave!”
“Well,” said I, “you can stay here out of danger; but I am going out to my warriors, and then to storm the fort.”
I ran back with the same success that I had entered it, brandishing my dripping lance, and ordered a charge, which was obeyed as soon as given. In five minutes there was not a Black Foot left within alive. They made scarcely any defense, so sudden and overwhelming was the shock.
We had one warrior killed by the first discharge of the enemy, and six wounded. We then returned home, and, notwithstanding our slain warrior, we celebrated a dance, and devoted the next day to mourning our loss. In robing his remains for the spirit land, we dressed him in the most costly manner, using trinkets, seam-embroidered cloth, and the most costly articles, to show the inhabitants of the spirit land that he was a great brave, and much respected on earth. Over all was wrapped the best of scarlet blankets, and his arms were enfolded therein.
Oh shroud him in his hunting-shirt,
And lay him in the glen,
Away, away from jealous foes,
Away from sight of men
With bow and painted arrow,
That never failed its aim,
When by his fleet and favorite steed
The bounding bison came.
Go, kill the warrior’s favorite horse,
His crouching, lonely hound;
To shield so brave a warrior
In the happy hunting-ground.
While the villagers were crying and putting on a coat of mourning-paint for the departed warrior, I was busied in my domestic affairs. I sent my sister to madam with a large quantity of service-berries, which had been finely dried the preceding summer, together with some sweet potatoes, telling her to request madam to send me her extra moccasins, in order to lash them together with my own on my pack-dog, and to appoint a place to meet me that evening. My sister was astonished, and said, “Is it possible that you intend to take Ba-chua-hish-a (Red Cherry) with you? Why, we shall all become poor! We shall not have a horse to ride! But I don’t care; she is a pretty woman, and will make a good robe-dresser.”
Away she hied, and soon returned with my lady’s moccasins. Ah, ah! thought I, I am all right now! I expected that the course of true love would not run very smooth with me in the end, but would, on the contrary, carry me over breakers which would most probably break my neck; but I fortified myself with the old adage, “Faint heart never won fair lady,” and I determined to hazard all consequences.
The appointed time had arrived, and, on going to the place of assignation, I found my lady true to her word — in fact, she was there first. We joined the party, thirty-four in number, and traveled all night in the direction of the Black Foot country. On the sixth day, at nightfall, we arrived at the Mussel Shell River, a little below the mouth of the Judith, and in sight of a village of the enemy. I looked ou
t a good place for a reserve camp, and then, selecting eighteen of the most expert horse-thieves, we started for the village. We succeeded in capturing one hundred and seventeen horses without being discovered, and arrived safe with them at the camp. We all started immediately back for the village. The warriors took but two horses each, giving the rest to me and my new wife. Meanwhile, Big Rain made discovery of the loss of his wife, and was greatly disturbed in mind. My father, knowing the aggressor, commenced giving away to his near relatives all his choicest stock and other valuable property, until the storm should blow over.
When we rode in, the people came out to meet us, rejoicing at our success. Big Rain was out likewise; he took no part in the rejoicing, however, but ordered his wife and me to be surrounded. I was seized by Big Rain, together with half a dozen of his sisters, all armed with scourges, and they administered a most unmerciful whipping. I lay down to it, and received it with true Indian fortitude, though I certainly did think they would beat me to death. If I had resisted, they would have been justified in killing me; also, if they had drawn one drop of blood from me, I should have been justified in taking their lives. They laid it on so unmercifully, that I became angry, and hoped they would draw blood. After the flagellation was performed, the next penalty was, to strip my father and myself of all our horses and other effects (our war-implements excepted). My father was stripped of five hundred horses. I lost about eighty.
“Pretty dear for a very pretty woman,” thought I. However, I soon had my horses made up to me by presents from my friends.
The Life and Adventures of James P Beckwourth Page 19
