The two villages met at the time appointed at the fort, and disposed of all their peltry. A Mr. Tulleck was sent up as clerk, and to him I intrusted full charge of the fort, promising him the protection of the Crows for the winter, as I intended that one of our villages should take up their winter quarters in his vicinity. I was at this time salaried by the American Fur Company at three thousand dollars per annum, to reside with the Crows and procure their trade for the company.
Our whole nation then crossed the Yellow Stone, and moved on to Mussel Shell River, whence we purposed to go and gather the remains of our late head chief, as the time he had specified for their removal had arrived. The Indians count four seasons in the year; namely, green grass, yellow grass, leaf falling, and snow falling. Our party destined to collect the bones consisted of seven or eight hundred persons of both sexes. On arriving at the grave, we discovered a new Indian trail passing directly over the spot, and we started in immediate pursuit. After a march of six miles, we came upon a Black Foot village of twenty-seven lodges, who were returning from the trading-post, having made extensive purchases. At sight of them, every warrior’s breast kindled with revenge, they remembering the fall of their chief. We charged furiously upon them, killing and taking prisoners about one hundred and fifty of their party. While the warriors were engaged in the attack, our women attacked the Black Foot women, and killed many of them and their children before we could interfere to stop it. We captured quite a number of young women and little boys, with an abundance of horses, weapons, ammunition, scarlet cloth, beads, and sundries. We did not receive a scratch, as we attacked them with such overwhelming numbers that they offered trifling resistance, their chief endeavor being to save themselves by flight.
We took up the body of our chief and returned with it to the camp. Then there was another ceremony of cutting and maiming, and a body of two hundred lodges was sent to deposit the remains in the burial-ground of the chief’s ancestors. While this party were away on their mission, those who remained with us busied themselves in collecting the various sorts of fruit with which the country abounded.
I now received my last name — for I was on the pinnacle of my fame, and they could ennoble me no farther — Nan-kup-bah-pah (Medicine Calf).
After tarrying about three weeks, we returned to the fort, where we again spent a short time, and then proceeded to the Big Horn, where we had engaged to meet Bear’s Tooth, who had the conduct of the burial party.
While we were resting at the fort, a small party of twenty-three warriors, led by Little Gray Bull, stole from our camp at night, unknown to the chiefs, and when at a safe distance sent us word that they were going to the Cheyenne country in pursuit of spoils. They were the élite of our party, the braves des braves. Not one of that devoted band ever returned. What fate befell them remains to be shown.
CHAPTER XIX.
Departure from the Fort.—Arrival of Fitzpatrick and Party at the Crow Village.—Hair-breadth Escape from a Massacre.—Rescue and Restoration of Property to the Owners.—Departure of the Party.—My Return to the Fort.—Escape from Black Feet.—Defeat of the Crows.
WHILE staying at our camp on the Big Horn, a messenger arrived with the intelligence that Thomas Fitzpatrick was back upon the mountain, and that he wished me to visit him without loss of time. My affairs were in such a position that I could not possibly leave, but I sent my father and two of my best warriors to escort him into the village. The next morning they returned with Fitzpatrick and party, to the number of thirty-five men, and over two hundred horses. They encamped a short distance out. I visited the camp, and was received with a cordial welcome. I was introduced to a Captain Stuart, an English officer, who had figured conspicuously, as I was informed, under the Iron Duke, and was now traveling the Far West in pursuit of adventure; also to a Dr. Harrison, a son of the hero of Tippecanoe, and to a Mr. Brotherton, with several other gentlemen, who were all taking a pleasure excursion.
While sitting in their quarters, I observed some of the Crows looking very wistfully at the horses belonging to our new friends. Knowing that the most incorruptible of Indians have a moral weakness for horses, I ordered some of my faithful Dog Soldiers to watch them. I then invited the gentlemen to the village, which invitation they readily accepted. The visitors left at an early hour, but Fitzpatrick remained to talk matters over until quite late in the evening. I offered him a bed in my lodge, but he preferred sleeping in his own quarters.
Shortly after his arrival, Fitzpatrick incidentally mentioned that the Cheyennes had killed an entire party of Crows (but he omitted all mention of the part his men had taken in the massacre), and that one of his men had been wounded in the affair. He had also a horse that had belonged to one of the fallen heroes, purchased by him of the Cheyennes. Had he acquainted me with this circumstance when he first saw me, the very unpleasant sequel that I am about to relate would have been avoided.
One of the Crow braves was son to a member of the party massacred, and he recognized his late father’s horse. This discovery had occasioned the scrutiny which I had remarked early in the evening, but the cause of which I was in utter ignorance. On the retiring of Fitzpatrick I lay down for the night. I had not fallen asleep, when the murdered brave’s son entered my lodge, and addressed me: “Medicine Calf, what must we do with these white men?”
“What must you do with them?” repeated I, not apprehending his meaning.
“Yes, I say so.”
“Why, take them into your lodges and feast them, and give them beds to sleep on, if they wish it.”
“No, no, that is not what I mean,” he said; “you know these are the white men who killed my father. They have his horse here with them, and a wounded man — wounded in their fight with the Crows.”
He then left me to go, as I supposed, to his lodge, and I thought no more of the matter. I soon fell asleep, and woke no more till morning. On awaking, I heard a great rush or trampling of horses, and, springing out of bed, I inquired of a squaw what was the matter in the village.
“Why, don’t you know the whites are all dead?” she made reply.
“The whites are all dead!” repeated I, thunderstruck.
I ran out and ordered my war-horse to be got ready in a moment. I next ran to the lodge where Winters slept, and found it filled with Crows. I asked what all this uproar meant.
“I don’t know,” said he; “I have wished to go to your lodge to see you, but they would not let me leave. They have been clamoring about Thomas—Thomas—Thomas, all night.”
At this moment Fitzpatrick rode up, with an Indian behind him.
“Fitz,” said I, “what in the name of God does all this mean? Where are your men?”
“They are all dead, I expect, by this time,” said he, blankly; “and I presume you have sent for me to murder me at your own discretion.”
“When did you leave them? Were they alive when you left them?”
“They were going down the river, and a thousand Indians in hot pursuit after them,” he said.
“Go over to my father’s lodge,” I said to him, “and stay till I return.”
I then mounted my war-horse, being well armed, and addressed my father: “I am mad,” I said; “I am going to die.”
He gave the war-hoop so loud that my ears fairly tingled, as a signal for my relatives to follow me. They gathered round. “Go,” said he, “and die with the Medicine Calf.”
On I dashed, in mad career, for six or seven miles along the bank of the river, until I came in sight of the men. I seemed to have traveled the space in the same number of minutes, for the horse flew with lightning speed upon his errand. He dropped dead beneath me; in his prodigious exertions he had burst a blood-vessel.
I ran forward on foot, shouting to Fitzpatrick’s men, “Run to me! Run to me quickly!”
They heard me, and hesitated at my summons. At length one started, and the others followed, running at their utmost speed toward me. A hill rose on each side the river, closing together and arching
over the stream, at a short distance in advance of the party when I arrested their steps. In this pass the Crows had taken their position, intending to massacre the party as they attempted to force their passage.
As they reached me, I serried them around me, the Crows charging from the hills upon us at the same time. I now saw my band of relatives and friends approaching us from the village. As the exasperated Indians came surging on toward us, I advanced toward them, and ordered them to desist.
They arrested their course: “What do you want?” they asked; “do you wish those whites to live?”
“After you have killed me,” I said, “you can march over my dead body and kill them, but not before.”
They then wheeled, and fell in with my party of relatives, who were fast arriving and encircling the whites. I then requested each man to mount horse behind my relatives, and return with us to the village. All did so except Stuart. I requested him also to mount. “No,” said he, “I will get on behind no d—d rascal; and any man that will live with such wretches is a d—d rascal.”
“I thank you for your compliment,” I returned; “but I have no time to attend to it here.”
“Captain Stuart,” said Charles A. Wharfield, afterward colonel in the United States army, “that’s very unbecoming language to use at such a time.”
“Come, come, boys,” interposed Dr. Harrison, “let us not be bandying words here. We will return with them, whether for better or for worse.”
After I had mounted the party, I borrowed a horse of one of my warriors, and led them back to the village. For temporary safety, I deposited the party in my father’s lodge.
Fitzpatrick inquired of me, “Jim, what in the name of God are you going to do with us?”
“I don’t know yet,” I said; “but I will do the best possible for you.”
I then called the Dog Soldiers to me, and commanded them, together with the Little Wolves, to surround the village, and not suffer a single person to go out. They all repaired to their stations. I next took fifty faithful men, and made a thorough search throughout the village, beginning at the extreme row of lodges. By this means I recovered all the goods, once in the possession of Fitzpatrick, in good condition, except his scarlet and blue cloths, which had been torn up for blankets and wearing apparel, but still not much injured for the Indian trade. I also recovered all his horses, with the exception of five, which had been taken to Bear’s Tooth’s camp. I had the goods well secured, and a strong guard of my relatives placed over them.
The reader may perhaps inquire what restrained the infuriated Crows from molesting the rescued party on their way to the village. Simply this: when an Indian has another one mounted behind him, the supposition is that he has taken him prisoner, and is conducting him to head-quarters. While thus placed, the Indian having him in charge is responsible with his life for his security; if he fails to protect him, himself and all his kindred are disgraced; an outrage upon the prisoner is construed into pusillanimity on the part of the custodian. Prisoners are also safe while in custody in the village; their inviolability is then transferred to the responsibility of the chief. This is Indian morals.
I was informed subsequently that the Englishman, as soon as he approached me, cocked his gun, intending to shoot me. It was well for him, as well as his party, that he altered his mind; for, if he had harmed me, there would not have been a piece of him left the size of a five-penny bit. I was doing all that lay in my power to save the lives of the party from a parcel of ferocious and exasperated savages; his life depended by the slightest thread over the yawning abyss of death; the slightest misadventure would have proved fatal. At that moment he insulted me in the grossest manner. The language that he addressed to me extorted a look of contempt from me, but I had not time for anger. I was suspected of complicity with the Indians, or, rather, of having instigated the fiendish plot. No man of common sense could entertain such a suspicion, when he sees the part I took in the affair. Had I conspired the tragedy, I had but to rest in my bed until the deed was consummated. Every man would have been killed, and no one but the conspirators have known their fate. To be sure, I was in the service of the American Fur Company, and Fitzpatrick was trading upon his own account; but that could afford no motive to conspire his death. I had not the faintest objection to his selling everything he had to the Crows. But they had nothing to buy with; they had disposed of all their exchangeable commodities but a short time since at the fort. Further, I was personally acquainted with Fitzpatrick, with whom I never had an ill word; and some of his party stood high in my regard. Dr. Harrison, if only for his noble father’s sake, I would have defended at the risk of my own life. They were all bound to me with the ties of hospitality, and I have yet to hear of any action committed by me that would warrant the assumption of such deep perfidy. I have been informed that Captain Stuart offered one thousand dollars to a certain individual to take my life. I can hardly think the charge is true, for the individual thus said to be bribed has had many opportunities of earning his reward, and still I am alive.
After the goods were secured and the horses brought up, it was discovered that Captain Stuart’s horse, a fine iron-gray, was missing. It was traced to the possession of High Bull, a very bad Indian, and I was informed that he had declared he would kill the first man that should come after him. Stuart valued his horse highly, as well he might, for he was a noble animal; he was, therefore, very anxious to obtain him. Fitzpatrick had acquainted Stuart that I was the only person in the nation that could procure the horse’s restitution.
Accordingly, he visited me, and said, “Mr. Beckwourth” (he mistered me that time), “can you get my horse for me?”
I replied, “Captain Stuart, I am a poor man in the service of the American Fur Company, to sell their goods and receive the peltry of these Indians. The Indian who has your horse is my best customer; he has a great many relatives, and a host of friends, whose trade I shall surely lose if I attempt to take the horse from him. Should the agent hear of it, I should be discharged at once, and, of course, lose my salary.”
“Well,” said he, “if the company discharge you for that, I pledge you my word that I will give you six thousand dollars a year for ten years.”
“Captain Stuart is a man of his word, and able to perform all he promises,” said Fitzpatrick.
“Well,” replied I, “I will see what I can do.”
I then dispatched an Indian boy to High Bull with the message that I wanted the gray horse he had in his possession. The boy delivered his message, and the Indian retorted with a “Ugh!” which startled the boy almost out of his skin, and he came bounding back again, saying the Indian was mad.
In a short time High Bull came riding his horse, and said, “Medicine Calf, did you send for this horse?”
“I did.”
“Well, here he is.”
“Take him back,” I said, “and keep him safe until I send for him.”
Stuart was wonder-stricken at this proceeding, as our discourse was unintelligible to him.
“If I could get my hand on that horse’s neck,” he said, “the whole village should not get him away from me.”
I was annoyed at this braggadocio, and was glad the Indians did not understand him.
Fitzpatrick requested Captain Stuart to remain quiet, saying, “Beckwourth has passed his word to you that you shall have your horse. He will be forthcoming when you want him.”
The next morning they prepared to leave the village. The horses were all packed, and everything in readiness.
“Am I to have my horse?” said Captain Stuart.
“He will be here in a moment, sir,” said I.
High Bull then rode the horse up to the party and dismounted, giving me the reins.
“Now, sir, you can mount your horse,” said I, delivering him into his owner’s possession.
He mounted, and the party started. I took one hundred and fifty of my choice Dog Soldiers, and escorted them a distance of fifteen miles. Before leaving them
, I cautioned Fitzpatrick to keep on his journey for three days without stopping to encamp. I told him that the Indians were exasperated, and the two villages were together, and it was not in my power to keep them from following them. I was apprehensive they would dog them a considerable distance, but that a three days’ journey would place them in safety.
Instead of following my advice, he encamped the following afternoon. Within an hour after his delay, almost all his horses were taken by the Indians, not leaving him enough to pack his goods. I afterward learned that Stuart saved his gray horse. I saw the Crows had made free with my friends’ horses, for I saw several of them about the village subsequently. However, I was satisfied I had done my duty; I could not have done more to my own father or brother. Still my life was sought after, and my character basely assailed.
The fate of the Crow warriors I will mention episodically here, as I gathered it from Fitzpatrick, and afterward from the Cheyennes.
The party had encamped between two villages, having the Cheyennes on one side and the Siouxs on the other. They were in utter ignorance of their dangerous proximity. Being quickly discovered by one of the enemy, he returned and alarmed his village, and dispatched a messenger to the neighboring village; and in a few moments our small band was surrounded by a force of fifty times their number. Their position was a strong one, being chosen in a deep hollow or gully. They received the assault with unflinching intrepidity, and fought until they were all exterminated except their chief — they killing thirty-four of their foes. The chief seemed to wear a charmed life; neither lead nor arrows could harm him. He advanced from his position and tantalized his foes. He invited them to come and kill him, saying that the scalps of his enemies made his lodge dark, and that he had ridden their horses till he was tired of riding. They were filled with admiration of his daring. They told him he was too great a brave to be killed; that he might go, and they would not hurt him.
The Life and Adventures of James P Beckwourth Page 22
