The Life and Adventures of James P Beckwourth

by James P Beckwourth

  “White man,” he would say, “I have given you my robes, which my warriors have spent months in hunting, and which my women have slaved a whole year in dressing; and what do you give me in return? I have nothing. You give me fire-water, which makes me and my people mad; and it is gone, and we have nothing to hunt more buffalo with, and to fight our enemies.”

  The generality of traders will endeavor to make it apparent to him that there was a fair exchange of commodities effected, and that he had the worth of his wares, and they can do no more for him.

  This angered him, and in his disappointment and vexation he would raise the war-hoop, his warriors would rush to him, he would harangue them for a moment, an assault would be made upon the trading-post, the goods would be seized, and, in many instances, the trader would be massacred and scalped.

  I saw the necessary relation between all these events, and knew that simple justice in exchanges would avoid all such catastrophes. I therefore told Sublet to feel no uneasiness, as I could arrange matters so as to afford general satisfaction.

  “Well,” said he, “go your own way to destruction.”

  A day or two after this, Sublet came to inform me that Mo-he-nes-to was on his way to the fort. I looked out, and saw the chief and his wife both approaching on horseback. As he entered, I received him with great ceremony, taking him by the hand, and bidding him welcome to the fort. I had his horses well attended to, a sumptuous supper for himself and wife served up, and, while the meal was preparing, entertained him with liquors fit to make any toper’s mouth water. After supper he got gloriously fuddled, and went to bed, ignorant of what was passing in the world around him.

  In the morning I inquired of him how he felt. “Wugh! Much bad! head ache strong!”

  I then gave him another whisky punch, well-flavored with spices; he and his lady drank deeply, and then partook of a hearty breakfast. He then felt well again. I next led him into the store, where we had a large assortment of every Indian novelty. I knew he had children, as well as how many; so I selected a five-striped Hudson’s Bay blanket for himself, another for his wife, and one for each of his children, besides an extra scarlet blanket for his eldest son, a young warrior. To his wife I also gave a two-gallon brass kettle, and beads enough to last her for a year or two. In fact, I selected more or less of every description of article that I thought would be useful to them, or that I thought an Indian eye could covet. These presents I ceremoniously laid upon the counter, until I had two or three large piles of quite attractive-looking goods.

  The chief and his wife had watched me laying all these goods before there. I then asked them if they saw anything more anywhere in the store that they thought they would like.

  Mo-he-nes-to opened his eyes wide with surprise. “What!” he exclaimed, “are all those things for us?” “Yes,” I said, “they are for you, your wife, and your children — something for you all. When I have a friend, I like to be liberal in my gifts to him. I never rob the Red Men; I never take all their robes and give them nothing but whisky. I give them something good for themselves, their wives, and their children. My heart is big; I know what the Red Men want, and what their families want.”

  “My friend, your heart is too big; you give me much more than I ever had before; you will be very poor.”

  “No,” I said; “I have many things here, all mine. I am rich, and when I find a good friend, I make him rich like me.”

  I then bade him look the store carefully through, to see if there was anything more that he would like. He looked, but saw nothing more that he needed. I then made the same request of his wife, whose satisfaction beamed all over her face, but she too was fully supplied.

  I then stepped into another room, and returned with a fine new gun, with a hundred rounds of ammunition, and a new, highly-finished, silver-mounted battle-axe. This was the comble de bienfaits. I thought he would not recover from the shock. He took the battle-axe in his hand, and examined it minutely, his face distorted with a broad grin all the while.

  “Hugh!” said he; “you give me too much. I gave you no robes, but you have proved that you are my friend.”

  When they were ready to start, there was an extra horse for him, and a fine mare for his wife, ready waiting at the door.

  “There, my friend,” said I, “is a good horse for you; he is swift to run the buffalo. Here is a fine mare for you,” I said to his wife. “Indian women love to raise handsome colts. I give her to you, and you must not let the Crows steal her from you.”

  She displayed every tooth in her head in token of her satisfaction, and she mounted to return home. The chief said as he left, “I am going on a war-party, and then to kill buffalo. I will come back again in a few moons. I will then come and see you, and I will kill you — I will crush you to death with robes.” And away they went, never better satisfied in their lives.

  Now is it to be supposed that the company lost anything by this liberality? That chief, whose hands were stained with the blood of so many traders, would have defended my life till the last gasp. While I was in his country, no other trader could have bartered a plug of tobacco with him or his people. The company still derived great profits from his trade. Besides the immense returns derived from my transactions with the village, I cleared over five hundred dollars from my exchanges with the chief alone, after the full value of my munificent presents had been deducted.

  One day the Cheyenne Dog Soldiers were to have a dance and count their coos. I called all the Crows who were in the band, and asked them if the regulations would admit of my joining in the dance.

  “Certainly,” said they; “nothing will please them more; they will then believe that you have joined them.”

  Accordingly, I painted myself, and put on a uniform, including a chief’s coat, new from the shelves, and painted my white leggins with stripes, denoting a great number of coos; when ready, I walked toward them as great a man as any. On seeing me approach, there was a general inquiry, “Who is that? Where did he come from?” When the ceremonies commenced, I joined in, and danced as hard as any of them. The drum at length sounded, to announce the time to begin to count.

  I stepped forward first, and began. “Cheyennes, do you remember that you had a warrior killed at such a place, wearing such and such marks of distinction?”

  “Yes, we know it.”

  “I killed him; he was a great brave.”

  There was a tap on the drum, and one coo was counted. I proceeded until I had counted my five coos, which is the limited number between the dances.

  Next in turn the Bob-tailed Horse counted his five on the Crows, and to his various allusions I assented with the customary “I remember.”

  This betrayed who I was, and they were delighted to see one of the Dog Soldiers of the Crows join their band. The Bob-tailed Horse made me a valuable present, and I returned to the fort with six splendid warhorses and thirty fine robes, presented to me at that dance, as my initiation gifts, or bounty-money, I suppose, for joining their army. I was then a Dog Soldier in the picked troop of the Cheyennes, compelled to defend the village against every enemy until I died, like Macbeth, with harness on my back.

  The Crows had been informed by sundry persons in the employ of the American Fur Company that I had joined their inveterate enemies. They were satisfied with my proceeding. “The Medicine Calf is a cunning chief,” they said; “he best knows how to act. He has joined the Cheyennes to learn all about their numbers, the routes of their villages, and so forth. When he has learned all that he wants, he will return to us, and then we can fight the Cheyennes to greater advantage.”

  I was now in my second winter with Sublet in the Cheyenne and Sioux country. He had succeeded far beyond his expectation, and he still continued to make money by thousands. We had curtailed the number of sub-posts, and thereby materially reduced his expenses; indeed, they were now less than half what they were the preceding winter.

  Leaving Sublet’s, I went down to the South Platte, distant one hundred and fifty mi
les, and indulged in a short rest, until I heard that the Cheyennes of the Arkansas — those that I first visited — were about to make their spring trade, and I went over to meet them, and bring them to our fort. I found them; all appeared to be glad to see me, and they returned with me. In crossing the divide, or ridge between the two rivers, our spies in advance discovered a party of Pawnees, and a charge was immediately made upon them. We only killed three of the enemy. I counted a coo by capturing a rifle. The victim who abandoned it had been already killed.

  While we engaged the enemy the village went into camp, and I proposed to my fellow-warriors to return to the village after the manner of the Crows, which was agreed to. There were several in the party, so we could easily raise a good Crow song, and the Cheyenne warriors could join in. We struck up merrily, and advanced toward the village. As soon as the women heard our voices, they ran out to see who were coming. There were several captive Crows among the Cheyennes, who, I supposed, had lived among them ever since I had been sold to the whites. These recognized our stave, and exclaimed, “Those are Crows coming; we know their song.” This brought out the whole village, who stood waiting our arrival, in surprise and wonderment. As we drew near, however, they distinguished me in the party, and the mystery was solved. “The Crow is with the Cheyennes.”

  We performed all kinds of antics; made a circuit round the village, going through evolutions and performances which the Cheyennes had never before seen, but with which they were so highly pleased, that they adopted the dance into the celebrations of their nation. That night the scalp-dance was performed, which I took part in, as great a man as any. I sung the Crow song, to the especial admiration of the fair sex.

  The next morning we resumed our journey to the fort, which we reached after three days’ travel. The village had brought a great number of robes, together with some beaver, and a great trade was opened with them. At this time I had a difficulty with a Cheyenne, the only one I ever had with any of the tribe. I was eating dinner one day, when a great brave came in and demanded whisky. I repaired to the store with him to supply his want, when I found he had no robe to pay for it, and was, besides, intoxicated. I refused to give him the whisky, telling him he must first go and bring a robe. This probably aggravated him, and he made a sudden cut at me with his sword, which I very fortunately dodged, and before he could raise his weapon again I had him between my feet on the ground. I had left my battle-axe on my seat at the table, and I called out for someone to bring it to me, but no one came with it. I at length released him, and he went hooping away, to obtain his gun to shoot the Crow. I seized my own, and waited for him at the door, while all the inmates of the fort begged of me not to shoot him. After some little delay, he appeared, gun in hand; but three Cheyenne warriors interfered to stop him, and he returned into his lodge.

  The day following he sent for Sublet and myself to go and dine with him, and we went accordingly. Sublet was apprehensive of mischief from my visit, and endeavored to dissuade me from going; but I foresaw no danger, and knew, farther, that it would be a cause of offense to the Indian to neglect his invitation. When we entered his lodge he was glad to see us, and bade me be seated on a pile of robes. I sat down as desired, and our host, after holding a short conversation with Sublet, turned to me and spoke as follows:

  “O-tun-nee” (Crow), “I was a fool yesterday. You spared my life. I do not want you to be angry with me, because I am not angry with you. I was drunk; I had drunk too much of your whisky, and it made my heart black. I did not know what I was doing.”

  “Very well,” said I; “I am not angry with you. When you attempted to kill me I was angry, and if my battle-axe had been in my hand, I should have killed you. You are alive, and I am glad of it.”

  “Take those robes,” he rejoined, “and hereafter you shall be my brother, and I will be your brother. Those robes will make your heart right, and we will quarrel no more.”

  I took the robes with me, ten in number, and found my heart perfectly mollified.

  Messrs. Sublet and Vasques, having realized immense profits during their three years of partnership, disposed of all their interest and effects in the Rocky Mountain fur business, and returned to St. Louis. This threw me entirely out of business, when Messrs. Bent and Saverine wished to engage me in their employ. After some little negotiation with them, I concluded a bargain, and entered into their service in the latter part of the summer of 1840. We immediately proceeded to establish sub-posts in various directions, and I repaired to Laramie Fork.

  As soon as it was known among the Indians that the Crow was trading at Bent’s post, they came flocking in with their robes. Old Smoke, the head chief of another band of Outlaws, known as Smoke’s Band, but claimed by no particular nation or tribe, visited me, with his village, and commenced a great spree. I gave them a grand entertainment, which seemed to tickle their tastes highly. They kept up their carousal until they had parted with two thousand robes, and had no more remaining. They then demanded whisky, and I refused it. “No trust,” the motto we see inscribed on every low drinking-saloon in St. Louis, is equally our system in dealing with the Indians.

  They became infuriated at my refusal, and clamored and threatened if I persisted. I knew it was no use to give way, so I adhered to my resolution. Thereupon they commenced firing upon the store, and showered the bullets through every assailable point. The windows were shot entirely out, and the assailants swore vengeance against the Crow. According to their talk, I had my choice either to die or give them whisky to drink. I had but one man with me in the store. There had been several Canadians in the fort, but on the first alarm they ran to their houses, which were built around the fort, within the pickets, to obtain their guns; but on the Indians informing them that they would not hurt them, that it was only the Crow that they were after, the Canadians stayed within doors, and abandoned me to my fate.

  I and my companion sat with our rifles ready cocked, well prepared to defend the entrance to the fort. We had plenty of guns at hand ready loaded, and there must a few have fallen before they passed the gate. At dusk I closed the door, but we lay upon our arms all night. The Indians kept up a great tumult and pother, but attempted nothing.

  Messrs. Bent and Saverine arrived in the morning, and wanted to be informed of the cause of the disturbance. I acquainted them, and they approved my conduct. They were astonished at my immense pile of robes, and applauded my fortitude.

  When the Outlaws became sobered, they expressed contrition for what they had done, and charged their excesses upon John Barleycorn, which plea I admitted. At the same time, it appeared quite inconsistent that I, who was that celebrated gentleman’s high-priest, should be set upon and almost murdered by his devotees.

  Nothing noteworthy occurred until the following January, when the Indians, being again on the spree, once more attempted my life. I fled to a post in the Arrap-a-ho country, in charge of Mr. Alex. Wharfield, now a colonel in the army; he resigned the post to me, and took my place at Bent’s post. I had but little trouble with the Indians here. Cut Nose, an old brave, who, it seems, had been in the habit of obtaining his drams of Wharfield gratis, expected to be supplied by me on the same terms. I resisted this invasion, and seriously ruffled the feathers of the old chief thereby. He left at my refusal, and did not return again that day. During the ensuing night the Pawnees came, and stole both his horses and mine. The old man raised a party, went in pursuit, recaptured all the horses, took two scalps, and returned in high spirits.

  He visited the store, and informed me what he had done.

  “Well,” said I, “that is because I gave you no whisky yesterday. If I had given you whisky, you would have drunk too much, and been sick this morning in consequence. Then you would not have been able to pursue the Pawnees, and you would have lost your horses.”

  However, I gave him some whisky then in honor of his achievement. This, as I had expected, pleased the old fellow, and he restored me my horses, and charged me nothing for their recapture.


  As soon as the spring trade was over, I abandoned that post and returned to the Arkansas. Saverine desired me to go and see if I could open a trade with a village of Arrap-a-hos which he had heard was en-camped at forty miles distance. I accordingly started in their direction, accompanied by two men. We journeyed on until we had arrived within a short distance of the village, when we discovered on our road a band of three or four hundred traveling Indians. I saw they were Camanches, and I bade the two men to run for their lives, as I knew the Camanches would kill them. I directed them to the Arrap-a-ho village, and bade them shout their loudest when they came in sight of it. They left me, and ascended a slight eminence a little distance in advance, and then, shouting to the extent of their lungs, they put their horses down at the best speed. I rode up after them, and telegraphed with my blanket to the village to have them come quickly. They obeyed my motions, and fell in with the Camanches on their way to me. The two tribes proved to be friends, and my companions were safe. On arriving at the village I found abundance of robes, and opened a very successful trade with the people. This finished, I returned to the fort, and assisted the other employés in loading the wagons for their trip to St. Louis.

  CHAPTER XXXII.

  First Trip to New Mexico.—Return to the Indians with Goods.—Success in Trade.—Enter into Business in St. Fernandez.—Get Married.—Return to the Indians.—The fortunate Speculation.—Proceed to California with Goods.

  I HAD now accumulated a considerable sum of money, and thought I might as well put it to some use for my own profit, as risk my life in the service of others, while they derived the lion’s share from my industry. It was now about three years since I had left St. Louis on my present excursion, and I began to weary of the monotony of my life. I was within five days’ journey of New Mexico, and I determined upon going to take a look at the northern portion of this unbounded territory.