Chapter 6

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.