USA > Vermont > Rutland County > Ira > History of Ira, Vermont > Part 5
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This then was the forest I had seen the morning I took observations from the bluff by the river.
We had picked up in our travel across Dakota two families of French and Indian halfbreeds, whose home when not on the prairie was in Pembina, near the northeast corner of Dakota, and whose business it was to hunt buffalo for their meat and hides. They traveled in two-wheeled wooden carts drawn by a horse, a cow, or an ox, just as seemed most convenient. They had with them their wives and children, some of them half- grown, and able to handle the carts. While we were passing through this vast herd the two men who controlled the half-breed outfit made what they called a run for the hides and meat of the buffalo. They were mounted on fine race horses, one of them a beautiful bay brought to this country from the race tracks of England, and carried what was known as the Henry rifle, a magazine gun, sixteen-shot and a rapid loader.
Just as our train was about to start one morning, and in full view of us all, they mounted their horses and made a dash at the herd that lay ahead of us. The buffalo soon started up, but the fleet-footed horses overtook them and the rifles of the keen sportsmen began to bark as the fatal shots were planted just behind the shoulders of the fleeing animals. When the dust and smoke had blown away, eleven dead buffalo lay stretched upon the ground, and it was only a short time before the women and the older boys and girls in the carts had finished their work of skinning them, and securing all that was valuable of the eleven dead buffalo.
One might think it an easy job to ride thus into a herd of frightened, terrified wild animals and, in a space of time not to exceed five minutes at most, secure so many valuable prizes as trophies of the chase. To a disinterested witness of the event it might seem of no great note, but just you mount and try it once, even once, and you will be perfectly satisfied to "let George do it." The horse and the rider must both be trained to that kind of sport, and even then it is attended with great danger. The horse must be accustomed to the discharge of fire- arms under the saddle, and at the proper moment when the shot is delivered into the body of the buffalo, must shear quickly away so as to avoid the sharp horns of the infuriated beast.
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Often they turn quickly upon the hunter and his horse, and deliver a counter-blow, and if they succeed in planting their short black horns under the horse's flank most likely the horse is disemboweled, and the hunter may also sustain broken bones or even death itself. Nothing of that sort happened to our skillful hunters and both rode back to their families safe and sound, though their horses were panting from the sudden burst of speed necessary to do their part of the bloody work.
OTHER GAME AND FRUITS
After leaving that vast herd of buffalo we saw no more of that kind of animal. Several miles farther along, however, we entered the valley of the Milk River before mentioned, which is a stream of considerable size, and at that time might well have been termed the Hunter's Paradise. The river was sparsely timbered along its banks, almost entirely by cotton- woods, and the deer were so plentiful that game paths were worn into the soil inches deep where they had traveled up and down the banks. One would have to go quietly for only a short distance in order to see one or more of the creatures, which were so unaccus- tomed to the hunter and the report of his rifle that they seemed to be almost fearless of man. In the swales along the banks where the water set back at certain seasons and the soil remained soft and muddy, bear tracks were plenty. We spent no time, how- ever, hunting bear, but did give a little attention to venison, which helped out our meat supply not a little. Back from the river antelope were abundant and quite easily taken.
The way we would hunt them was to approach a herd cautiously and if possible without being discovered, lie close to the ground, and elevate a bandanna handkerchief on a stick or ramrod so that the antelope could see it and not see the hunter. These little animals, unlike any of the other varieties, are pos- sessed of a large bump of curiosity, so after a few moments of watching they would begin to travel back and forth, drawing a little nearer the red flag every time, apparently exercising great caution, but in fact walking steadily into danger. When they were in easy rifle range the hunter could select the one he wanted and knock him over. Their flesh is fine, something like venison or mutton with a gamey flavor.
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During our trip across Dakota, and a large part of Mon- tana, we found the prickly pear in abundance and of several different varieties. The blossoms, in beautiful shades of pink, make of it a lovely flower garden, but the terrible spines that cover the body of the plant, make it extremely unpleasant to handle, or even touch. Another shrub we often met was known to plainsmen as the bullberry. Its fruit was edible but ex- tremely acid to the taste. However, having a diet composed mainly of bread and meat, we often improved the opportunity afforded us to eat quantities of this currant-like fruit.
There was another plant called by the older of the plains- men "pomme de terre," apple of the earth, the French name for potato. This was a small plant that kept close to the ground, and bore a small round fruit without much flavor, resembling in appearance and taste the common potato ball, often met with in years past in our New England potato fields. These small earth plums or apples, falsely so-called, with a kind of small prairie turnip, furnished food for bears and wolverines, which would dig and eat them, for the want of something better.
When we entered the Milk River valley we found wild yellow currants in abundance, but the bears claimed them as a delicacy of their own. They grew a much larger fruit than any currant I have ever seen in any of our Eastern gardens, and the flavor was very fine, for a currant.
Along the banks of the Missouri the shad or June berry was frequently met, and in all respects similar to the wild fruit known to all New England.
THE GOLD FIELDS
From the time we started in Minnesota until we reached the valley of the Prickly Pear River and the city of Helena upon the western side of it, we were on the road about 100 days and covered a distance of some 1300 miles, and without the loss of a man. Helena, now the capital of the State of Montana, was at that time the largest and most populous place in the Territory, and fairly in the gold fields of the Territory.
The Prickly Pear Valley, a level territory some ten miles across in almost any direction, forms only a very insignificant part of the mineral resources of Montana, but it so happened that in 1866, some of the best paying deposits, both of quartz
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and placer-mining, had been located upon the mountain fringe which borders the west side of the valley. Even Helena City was located upon good placer-mining ground, and at the time I mention was being dug up and washed for fine gold.
There were at the time of which I write three different methods of separating the gold from the soil or gravel, or from the ledges of rock or quartz, where it might be found imbedded. The gold was usually washed from the gravel by the use of sluice boxes or cradles, and if quartz ledges were discovered, mills (so-called) were erected to crush the rock. The gold was freed from the stone and caught with quicksilver, which was afterwards disposed of by holding the pan in which the amalgam was placed over the fire, when the quicksilver would evaporate, and the gold alone be left in the pan.
The sluice boxes were usually made of twelve-foot boards about one foot wide. They had only three sides, and in the bottom was placed another board bored full of holes, making a false bottom, and carefully wedged in, not nailed, so that it could be removed when it was thought necessary to clean up and secure the gold after the day's run. From three to five or six of these boxes were placed one after the other, in a string, the upper end of each box receiving the lower end of the one above, then a small stream of water, about one inch deep in the bottom of the boxes, was let in at the upper end of the line. The miner then proceeded to shovel the gold-bearing gravel into the upper end of box number one. The water carried it down to the lower end of the last box, where it was removed by another work- man, while the gold, being too heavy to be washed away, would sink into the riffles, or holes, in the false bottom of the boxes, and later on be secured by the miner.
The cradle, so called because of its resemblance to the baby's first bed, was a small affair operated by one man. An upright stick or handle was held by the miner to jog it back and forth, and the bottom sloped so that the water poured on to the gravel at one end would carry away the base material, and the gold, being heaviest, would remain upon the bottom of the cradle, to be scooped up and secured by the miner. In all the various methods of separating the gold from the soil or rock, water, and plenty of it, has to be used.
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We pilgrims, or tenderfeet, as new-comers in that region were called, did not waste any time in getting busy with the enterprise that had brought us there. A claim was secured, and everybody went to work, but the season was so far ad- vanced that very little was accomplished before freezing weather put a stop to further proceedings. When spring opened and the ground was clear of frost, work was recommenced upon the ground bought the fall before; but, as one might naturally sup. pose, disappointment was the lot of quite a number of those who had lived through the long cold winter in anticipation of gathering in the golden harvest when spring opened. Yet all was not lost so long as health and strength remained.
Work in the mines was plenty and wages of from five to six dollars in gold were paid to all who cared to work. Most of those who had crossed the plains knew how to cook after a fashion and board themselves, so that the living was not very expensive, but board of the plainest kind could not be secured for less than one dollar per day. The city, so-called, was the abode of gamblers and their associates of the weaker sex, with whom decent men did not care to associate. Usually anyone who minded his business and kept straight himself, could avoid trouble, but it did not take long to see trouble if one was look- ing for it. While a crude idea of justice and fair play was the rule among the miners, rights were secured and safety guaran- teed largely by the policeman which most men carried when away from their own camps, in a holster fastened to a belt over the right hip.
HOME VIA THE MISSOURI RIVER
This kind of a life was not congenial to the law firm of Peck & Brown and some others, and before the summer was over plans were laid to return to the States. It was finally decided, all things considered, that in a suitable boat, large enough to carry six men with a reasonable amount of baggage and provision, the trip might be made by water. Since our last mining camp was on the west bank of the Missouri River, we decided to build our boat and launch it upon the water at that place, which was about ten miles east of Helena City.
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If the reader will take his atlas covering the different sec- tions of the Northwest and follow me, what I have to say will be much more interesting. The following notes are taken almost verbatim from my diary, kept from the time we started on our return trip until we arrived at St. Louis.
In 1854, according to authentic United States history, or during the administration of Thomas Jefferson as President of the United States, an expedition was fitted out for the purpose of exploring the Northwest Territory, lately purchased by this country from France. This expedition was the Lewis and Clark exploring expedition, under the command of Captain Lewis and Lieutenant Clark. These men with their associates ascended the Missouri river and crossed the Rocky Mountains, reaching the Columbia, down which they continued their journey to the Pacific Ocean. On our return trip from the gold fields of Montana, we retraced their course down the Missouri River, which is formed by the forking of the Madison and Jefferson Rivers coming out of the mountains many miles to the west, and some distance above where we put our boat into the water.
On the twenty-fifth day of August, 1867, I closed the cabin door behind me for the last time, in Big Indian gulch, about two miles southwest of Helena City, and with my little pack of goods thrown over my shoulder, started for the "French Bar," so-called, a mining camp located on the west bank of the Mis- souri, on the east side of Prickly Pear Valley. My brother had been stopping for some time at this camp, which was about ten miles from Helena, assisting in the construction of the little craft, twenty-six feet long and six feet wide, that was designed to carry six of us safely down the river and back once more to railroad travel.
August twenty-sixth we embarked in our staunch little craft, which was provided with two sets of oars, and a main mast to which we could attach a sail if the wind was favorable, and keep the boat still moving at a reasonable rate when the current of the stream was too slow.
The first night we encamped on the bank near the mouth of the little Prickly Pear River, which enters the Missouri from the west. There seemed to be quite a current to the Missouri here and we estimated that we had made about twenty-five miles.
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The second day we camped at night with some men who had been cutting logs for the purpose of building a fort on the Sun River, another tributary of the Missouri coming in from the west. This stream is called the Sun because of the clearness and purity of its water. It flows in about as much volume as Otter Creek, one of the main streams of our own state, and is so limpid and clear that the bottom can be clearly seen at a depth of seven feet or more.
The third day of our journey we entered and passed through what was known as the Gate of the Mountains. This was an undertaking not unlike passing through Hell Gate, at the entrance of New York harbor, so called mainly because of the danger to navigation from the agitation of the water. And be it known to all other travelers who essay to pass through the Gate of the Mountains in a small open boat, at a time of low water, as at the time of year when we entered it, that if they get through without wrecking their craft, or getting a cold dip, they will be extremely fortunate.
We were all ignorant of what was in store for us when we entered the gorge, but to turn back was impossible. The rocks on either bank rose perpendicularly from the water's edge from fifty to one hundred and fifty feet, and the water ran like a mill race. Our pilot, who sat in the stern of the boat, did the best he could to keep the boat off the rocks and in the deepest part of the channel, but we were caught once upon a flat rock in midstream, which was covered by only a few inches of water. One man had to step out at the stern and lift and swing the boat to ease it off the rock, jump in, and let her drive again. Towards the mouth of the canyon the water went along with an extra rush, and our boat seemed to be first one end up then the other, but we struck no more rocks, and just below the worst of the rapids the water was calm and still as a lake, and continued deep and quiet for several miles. The stream through the gorge, or gate, so-called, is some fifteen or twenty rods wide, and all the water that is drained into the river above is forced into that narrow channel, which is perhaps five miles long. Below the gate the stream is probably forty rods wide, and flows for several miles through a level stretch of land with banks from ten to fifteen feet high much of the way. But occasionally the shore
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would be low and sandy, sometimes bordered by a growth of alders or willows.
This section of the river seemed to be the abode of plenty of large game, for on two occasions they revealed themselves to us, soon after we left the gorge. A small band of elk, perhaps ten in number, came down to the bank of the stream on the opposite side from where we were encamped, and about fifty rods up the river but in plain sight. Apparently they intended to swim across, but the steep bank on the opposite side looked too discouraging, and they turned back and were soon out of sight. On the morning of the third day while we were in this deep, slow-moving stretch of the river, we rounded a bend in the stream and saw a large grizzly bear standing on the bank, and evidently intending to try to swim over. We eased up on the oars and in breathless silence watched the movements of this monarch of the mountains. We had not long to wait, for in a moment the bear entered the water and struck out for the opposite bank, only the top of his head and the huge shoulders visible above the water. He was then probably fifty rods from us. We waited until he had nearly reached the middle of the river, then with both sets of oars struck the water, determined to capture him before he could reach the shore. The noise of our oars as they struck the water alarmed him, and he turned quickly back towards the place where he had entered the water. Lucky indeed was it for us, land-lubbers, that the bear won the race, for had we caught up with him in the water the chances would have all been in his favor. Most likely he would have swamped the boat and drowned several of us. As he rose up on the bank not more than five or six rods from us, he was a splendid mark, and the writer picked up the only loaded gun in the boat and fired quickly. The boat was unsteady and my aim not sure, but the ball must have struck him, for his body settled, but only for an instant, when he rallied, turned and rushed into the underbrush out of sight. I was anxious to land and pursue him, but the motion was overruled as not being advisable, under the circumstances, and without further delay we again took to our oars.
The same day we reached the upper falls of the river, which must have been fifteen feet high, but as the water was low on
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the north side of the stream, six strong men were able to unload the boat and ease it down and into the water again without any accident. This we did at four different times in the next mile or so, and finally encamped for the night, ignorantly supposing that the worst of our hardship was past.
In the morning, soon after starting, we turned a bend in the river, and knew a still higher fall was below us. We could see the mist as it arose from the fall of water, and the roar was distinct upon our ears. Fastening our boat to the shore, we passed down to examine more carefully, and to our regret and sorrow discovered the Great Falls of the Missouri, a perpendic- ular drop of nearly one hundred feet with steep, precipitous banks on either side, and no possible way to get our boat up the bank or around the falls. A council of war was called, and all agreed that we must abandon our boat, and with what baggage and provision we could comfortably carry, set out on foot for Fort Benton, which we knew must be somewhere below us on the river.
We started next morning, the fifth since we had commenced our journey, following the main course of the river. We trav- eled all day with the reassuring conviction that we were at least traveling towards home, and down grade, and that night reached a point called the portage road, which was traveled by the stage between Fort Benton and Helena City. Early next morning, September first, we renewed our march, and arrived at Fort Benton that night, as tired and dusty a crowd of six as could well be called together. By careful inquiry at the Fort, together with what had been taught us by our experience, we were satisfied that we had covered two hundred and fifty miles since we left French Bar. Fifty miles were on foot and the rest of the way by water.
Great Falls, Montana, is now one of the largest and most important cities in the state, numbering, according to the census of 1900, 14,931 people, and today probably not less than 25,000. It has one of the largest plants in the state for reducing gold, silver and copper ore, and a water-power second only to Niagara.
We engaged passage on the "Only Chance," a small river steamboat lying at Fort Benton, the last boat to leave the head
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of navigation during the season for the accommodation of any who might wish to go down the river at that late season of the year. We were delayed until the 6th of September, when, with some fifty passengers on board, the boat headed downstream for St. Louis, 2,750 miles away by the river channel, though much nearer by direct line. During the first part of our trip the "Only Chance" would stop at night and tie to some tree on shore, the captain not daring to run after dark for fear of snags and sand bars.
On September 13th, about noon, we reached Fort Hawley. This was a post established by the Northwestern American Fur Company for the purpose of trading with the Indians, and had a stockade for defense. Three men had been killed by the Indians, near this post, only a few days before, and to me all the savage and brutal instincts of this fiendish race seemed manifest. We heard the story of one of the men who had been killed when cutting hay for the post. He wandered ten miles through the woods after they got through with him, before death came to his relief. The brutal treatment dealt out to this white man near Fort Hawley is not printable, but the worst imaginable would scarcely be up to the facts.
September 21st we reached Fort Buford, at the mouth of the Yellowstone River, and old Fort Union, about five miles below. Fort Union consisted of several adobe buildings and stockades, with the tents of five companies of United States Infantry stationed there. The place had an inviting appearance as viewed from the river, but once entered, the streets were far from inviting. Half-breeds and Indians were racing their ponies back and forth, and the soldiers not on duty were lounging around, apparently indifferent as to what was going on about them.
From Cow Island, about five hundred miles below Fort Benton and on to Fort Union two hundred miles below, we found game in abundance, deer, elk and buffalo.
I have mentioned before that all through this dangerous portion of the river we had to tie up our boat at night, and run only by daylight. Those of us who were hunters usually took advantage of the little daylight that was left after the boat stopped for the night to hustle for fresh meat on shore, in case
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· we were fortunate enough to secure it. I will relate a single instance of this kind.
The boat had been going for hours one afternoon through a herd of buffalo that had commenced their annual southern migration to escape the cold weather on these northern plains. Many animals could be seen from time to time swimming the river. But the captain was not disposed to halt in order to accommodate the sportsmen, and no one felt justified in shooting the animals in the water, and leaving them a total waste and loss. Some half-dozen of us, therefore, with our rifles in our hands, were waiting patiently for the boat to halt for the night, as we were determined to secure some of this splendid game. Accord- ingly the boat had barely touched bottom, when the sportsmen, who had been waiting at least an hour for the opportunity, sprang from the boat to the shore, with a vigorous leap. A fine specimen of the herd we had observed all the afternoon had placed himself on a bluff upon the same side of the river to which our boat was tied, and seemed to be trying to satisfy his curiosity as to what was going on. The writer, with a Sharps army rifle had fortunately struck a game path that led from the river back through the alder and willow underbrush. Reach- ing the upper bank of the stream he was in easy rifle range of this splendid specimen of his herd. Dropping quickly to an easy rest he fired and the animal fell, but immediately got to his feet and turned around, swinging his head so that his keen eyes could discover where the trouble came from. Another shot was lodged in his side near the first, and he fell the second time, not to rise again. A quick run around the head of the coulé which separated the hunter from his game, and a third shot that penetrated the skull finished the job, and in less than fifteen minutes twenty men were busy skinning and cutting up the carcass, and before dark it was loaded on the boat, where any that cared for it might help themselves.
September 22nd, Sunday, toward evening, a Mrs. Barbour breathed her last on board the boat, after an illness of about ten days. She left a husband and three small children to mourn her loss. We reached Fort Berthold about 2 p. m., September 23rd, and stopped to pay the last tribute of respect to the deceased.
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At nine that evening we reached Fort Stephenson, about twenty-five miles below Berthold, but were not permitted to land by order of Col. Powell, P. C., and therefore drew off and anchored in the river. His reason for not allowing us to land he did not disclose, but the presumption was that he feared some of his men might desert and secrete themselves on our boat.
September 24th, passed the steamer Amanda about nine a. m. and passed and were passed by her several times that day. At eight in the evening she repassed us as we were tied up for the night.
We reached Fort Rice the next morning about eight, stopped two hours and took on the corpse of Capt. Marshall of Indiana. At three o'clock the little son of one of the passengers died on the boat. Several others are sick.
September 26th, a month had elapsed since we commenced our journey home and only about one-half of the distance had as yet been covered. At five we reached Fort Sully, a military post of some importance situated on a high bluff about a mile from the left bank of the river and four miles from the landing. A band of Yankton Indians was encamped on the river bottom. Four companies of soldiers were stationed at Fort Sully. Here the child that had died yesterday was buried.
September 29th, in the afternoon, we met the following steamboats bound up the river, the Benton, the Ameranth, the Lady Grace, and the Amelia Poe.
We were making more rapid progress now that there seemed to be less danger from snags and sand bars, but the next day, on account of a strong head wind, we lay over from ten in the morning until noon.
October 1st, we stopped at Fort Randall early in the fore- noon, and at six p. m. reached Yankton, the capital of Dakota Territory, situated about fifteen miles above the mouth of the James River. This was the first settlement of any importance we had seen as we descended the Missouri River. About twenty of the passengers and crew of the Only Chance got beastly drunk at this place, most likely rejoicing in celebration of their escape from the wilderness above them. Nobody was arrested.
October 3rd, we reached Sioux City, Iowa, at eight a. m. This is a place of about 3,000 inhabitants (at that time), pleas-
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antly located at the mouth of the Big Sioux River. Aeeording to the captain's ehart we made one hundred miles that day, and tied up our boat for the night.
October 4th, we reached Omaha, Nebraska, at three o'clock p. m. Aeross the river stands Council Bluffs, Iowa. These two rival cities are about twenty miles above the mouth of the Platte River, which enters the Missouri from the west, and by the river eight hundred and thirty miles above St. Louis. Omaha then had 12,000 inhabitants. The Union Paeifie Railroad was then completed to some four hundred and fifty miles west of Omaha.
October 5th, about noon, we passed Nebraska City, a place of considerable importanee about seven hundred and twenty miles above St. Louis. We were counting the miles now, and the Only Chanee was under full head of steam night and day.
October 6th, at two p. m., we reached the eity of St. Joseph, Missouri, usually known as St. Jo., a large place said to contain some 23,000 people, located on the left bank of the Missouri River about six hundred miles above St. Louis. The country bordering the river between Council Bluffs and St. Jo was quite thickly settled, the timber along the river being mainly elm, ash and cottonwood.
October 8th, we passed Jefferson, the capital eity of Mis- souri, and about half-past three o'eloek in the afternoon of October 11th we reached St. Louis, the end of our boat ride on the waters of the Missouri, the longest river in North America. Continuing to the mouth of the Mississippi, the Missouri ean perhaps be counted the longest river in the world.
Forty-seven days from the time the writer had shouldered his personal effects in Big Indian Guleh, we boarded a train of ears in St. Louis with our tickets routed for home.
No bridge erossed the Mississippi at that time, but our ears were run on a large ferry steamer that carried us safely across to the solid ground of the state of Illinois. Passing through Springfield, where sleeps our martyred President, we sped on toward Chicago, and continued our journey by rail
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until the Green Mountains were sighted in the east, and the joy-bells were set ringing in our hearts. We were soon to greet the loved ones at home once more, October 15th, 1867, with a new conception of the magnitude of this wonderful country, of which we Eastern people form so small a part.
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