The Life & Adventures of James P. Beckwourth
Mountaineer, Scout, Pioneer, & Chief of the Crow Nation of Indians.
Written from his own Dictation by T. D. Bonner. New York: Harper & Brothers, Publishers, Franklin Square. 1856.
CHAPTER 7
Arrival of General Ashley and Party.—His Relation of their Sufferings after leaving the Rendezvous.—Their Excursion to Salt Lake.—Fall in with a Fur Company before unknown to the Mountaineers.—His final Fortune, and return to St. Louis.
SITTING in camp one beautiful summer morning — for the month of June is always lovely in northern latitudes — an Indian lass stepped up to me, and wished me to kill a deer or an antelope, and bring her the brains, wherewith to dress a deer-skin, offering me, in compensation, a handsome pair of moccasins. Thinking to save two dollars by a few minutes' exertion, I took my rifle and alone left camp. After traveling two miles, I obtained sight of a fine antelope, which had also seen me, and kept himself at a respectful distance. In following him up to get a fair shot, I at length found myself about ten miles from camp, with small prospect of getting either brains or moccasins.
While among the wild sage, still trying to approach the antelope, I observed a horse and rider coming in my direction. Feeling satisfied that the rider was an Indian, I at once made up my mind to run no farther after the antelope, but to shoot him, and take his brains to the squaw, as she would know no difference. I therefore concealed myself in the sage until he should come within range of my rifle. Becoming impatient, at length, at his tardy approach, I raised my head to take a look, when, to my utter astonishment, I saw General Ashley in the act of mounting his horse at a few paces' distance. He had stopped to adjust something belonging to his saddle, and to this trifling circumstance he was indebted for his life. On seeing who it was, I became so excited at the narrow escape he had made, that my rifle fell from my hand. If I had shot him, it being well known in camp that I was not entirely reconciled to him, I should, most undoubtedly, have been charged with his murder. I told the general of the narrow escape he had just made. He was surprised at my mistaking him for an Indian, and inquired if I did not know that they never traveled singly.
I then inquired after his health, and the success he had met with, and then related to him our own losses and success generally. He inquired where the camp was. I told him it was close at hand. In conducting the general thither, he pronounced my "close at hand" rather distant.
Arrived at camp, the general related their adventures in descending the Green River over the rapids, through the Suck and cañon, in the following narrative:
"We had a very dangerous passage down the river, and suffered more than I ever wish to see men suffer again. You are aware that we took but little provision with us, not expecting that the cañon extended so far. In passing over the rapids, where we lost two boats and three guns, we made use of ropes in letting down our boats over the most dangerous places. Our provisions soon gave out. We found plenty of beaver in the cañon for some miles, and, expecting to find them in as great plenty all the way, we saved none of their carcasses, which constituted our food. As we proceeded, however, they became more and more scarce, until there were none to be seen, and we were entirely out of provisions. To retrace the river was impossible, and to ascend the perpendicular cliffs, which hemmed us in on either side, was equally impossible. Our only alternative was to go ahead.
"After passing six days without tasting food, the men were weak and disheartened. I listened to all their murmurings and heart-rending complaints. They often spoke of home and friends, declaring they would never see them more. Some spoke of wives and children whom they dearly loved, and who must shortly become widows and orphans. They had toiled, they said, through every difficulty; had risked their lives among wild beasts and hostile Indians in the wilderness, all which they were willing to undergo; but who could bear up against actual starvation?
"I encouraged them all in my power, telling them that I bore an equal part in their sufferings; that I, too, was toiling for those I loved, and whom I yet hoped to see again; that we should all endeavor to keep up our courage, and not add to our misfortunes by giving way to despondency.
"Another night was passed amid the barren rocks. The next morning, the fearful proposition was made by some of the party for the company to cast lots, to see which should be sacrificed to afford food for the others, without which they must inevitably perish. My feelings at such a proposition can not be described. I begged of them to wait one day more, and make all the way they could meanwhile. By doing so, I said, we must come to a break in the cañon, where we could escape. They consented, and, moving down the river as fast as the current would carry us, to our inexpressible joy, we found a break, and a camp of trappers therein.
"All now rejoiced that they had not carried their fearful proposition into effect. We had fallen into good hands, and slowly recruited ourselves with the party, which was under the charge of one Provo, a man with whom I was well acquainted. By his advice, we left the river and proceeded in a northwesterly direction. Provo was well provided with provisions and horses, and he supplied us with both. We remained with his party until we arrived at the Great Salt Lake. Here I fell in with a large company of trappers, composed of Canadians and Iroquois Indians, under the command of Peter Ogden, in the service of the Northwest Fur Company. With this party I made a very good bargain, as you will see when they arrive at our camp, having purchased all their peltry on very reasonable terms."
The general concluded his narrative, and was congratulated by all present on his safe arrival. We were all rejoiced to hear that, during an absence of six or seven weeks, he had not lost a man.
We then proceeded to uncache our goods, which we had buried at the "Suck," and prepared to move up the river to a point where the Canadians and Indians had engaged to meet him with their peltry. The general appointed me captain of a party to meet the Canadians, and escort them to the rendezvous which he had proposed to them, while he and some few others remained to bring up the goods, consisting of flour, sugar, coffee, blankets, tobacco, whisky, and all other articles necessary for that region.
There were at this time assembled at our camp about two hundred men, besides many women and children — for many of the Frenchmen were accompanied with a squaw. I took with me eighty men, with their women, children, and effects, leaving for the general a strong guard of one hundred and twenty men, to escort the goods up the river.
Two days after we had started, being about a mile from the river, we stopped to dress a buffalo. While resting, a party of four hundred Indians passed at full speed between us and the river, driving a large number of horses. We mounted with all haste and started after them, but not in time to recapture the whole of the horses, which they had just stolen, or, rather, forced from the general in the presence of his men.
We fired on the Indians, and, after a smart skirmish, in which I received an arrow in the left arm, we recaptured twenty-seven of the animals, the Indians running off the remainder, amounting to seventy or eighty head; a severe loss, for we needed them to carry our peltry. We found three dead Indians on the field, whom we scalped, leaving them for the wolves to feed on. I ordered a camp to be formed wherein to leave the women and children, with a guard, and then, mustering all the horses, we took the return track to the camp, fearing that the party had been surprised and perhaps all massacred. On the road we met a party which the general had dispatched to us, he having similar apprehensions in regard to us. They informed us that the Indians had broken in upon them in broad daylight, unawares, and stampeded one hundred head of horses; that two of their men were wounded, of whom Sublet (since well known to the Western people) was one. It seems he was with the horses at the time the Indians rushed in upon them; he fired at one, but missed him; then clubbing his piece, he struck the Indian, nearly knocking him off his horse. The Indian rallied again and fired at Sublet, wounding him slightly. Both the wounded men were doing well.
Arrived at the camp, we related our exploit to the general. He was overjoyed to hear that we had recaptured so many horses without the loss of a single man. This was my first engagement with Indians in the capacity of officer; and never did Generals Scott or Taylor feel more exultation at their most signal triumph than did I in this trifling affair, where a score or so of horses were captured at the expense of myself and two of my men receiving slight wounds.
We all moved on together, feeling ourselves a match for a thousand Indians, should they dare to assail us. On arriving at the rendezvous, we found the main body of the Salt Lake party already there with the whole of their effects. The general would open none of his goods, except tobacco, until all had arrived, as he wished to make an equal distribution; for goods were then very scarce in the mountains, and hard to obtain.
When all had come in, he opened his goods, and there was a general jubilee among all at the rendezvous. We constituted quite a little town, numbering at least eight hundred souls, of whom one half were women and children. There were some among us who had not seen any groceries, such as coffee, sugar, &c., for several months. The whisky went off as freely as water, even at the exorbitant price he sold it for. All kinds of sports were indulged in with a heartiness that would astonish more civilized societies. The general transacted a very profitable trade with our Salt Lake friends. He purchased all their beaver, of which they had collected a large quantity, so that, with his purchases and those of our own collection, he had now one hundred and ninety-one packs, all in excellent order, and worth $1000 per pack in St. Louis.
There lay the general's fortune in one immense pile, collected at the expense of severe toil, privation, suffering, peril, and, in some cases, loss of life. It was supposed the general was indebted in the mountains and elsewhere to the amount of $75,000. The skins he had purchased of the Northwest Company and free trappers had cost him comparatively little; if he should meet with no misfortune on his way to St. Louis, he would receive enough to pay all his debts, and have an ample fortune besides.
In about a week the general was ready to start for home. The packs were all arranged; our Salt Lake friends offered him the loan of all the horses he wanted, and engaged to escort him to the head of Wind River, one of the branches of the Yellow Stone. The number selected to return with the general was twenty men, including my humble self; thirty men were to accompany us as a guard, and to return the horses we had borrowed.
The night previous to our departure, I and my boy Baptiste were sleeping among the packs, as were also some of the other men, when the sentinel came to me to tell me that he had seen something which he believed to be Indians. I arose, and satisfied myself that he was correct. I sent a man to acquaint the general, at the same time waking the boy and two men near me. We noiselessly raised ourselves, took as good aim as possible, and, at a signal from me, all four fired. We saw two men run. By this time the whole camp was aroused; the general asked me what I had fired at. I told him I believed an Indian.
"Very good," said he; "whenever you see an Indian about the camp at night, you do right to shoot him."
Our whole force was on guard from that time till the morning, when we discovered two dead Indians lying where we had directed our aim in the night. We knew they had been killed by our guns, for the other two men fired with shot-guns loaded with buck-shot. One had been killed with a ball through the arm and body; the other was shot through the head. We at first supposed that the two Indians belonged to the Black Feet, but we subsequently found they were Crows. One of them wore a fine pair of buckskin leg-gins, which I took from him and put on myself.
We started with an escort of fifty men, following the Wind River down to the Yellow Stone, where we built our boats to descend the river. On the sixth day after leaving camp, while we were packing our effects for an early start, the alarm of "Indians!" was given, and, on looking out, we saw an immense body of them, well mounted, charging directly down upon our camp. Every man seized his rifle, and prepared for the living tornado. The general gave orders for no man to fire until he did. By this time the Indians were within half pistol shot. Greenwood (one of our party) pronounced them Crows, and called out several times not to shoot. We kept our eyes upon our general; he pulled trigger, but his gun missed fire, and our camp was immediately filled with their warriors. Most fortunate was it for us that the general's gun did miss fire, for they numbered over a thousand warriors, and not a man of us would have escaped to see the Yellow Stone.
Greenwood, who knew the Crows, acted as interpreter between our general and the Indian chief, whose name was Ap-sar-o-ka Bet-set-sa, Sparrow - Hawk Chief.
After making numerous inquiries about our success in hunting, the chief inquired through the interpreter where we were from.
"From Green River," was the reply. "You killed two Black Feet there?" "Yes."
"Where are their scalps? My people wish to dance."
"Don't show them!" cried Greenwood to us. Turning to the Indian: "We did not take their scalps."
"Ugh! that is strange."
During this colloquy I had buried my scalp in the sand, and concealed my leggins, knowing they had belonged to a Crow. The chief gave orders to his warriors to move on, many of them keeping with us on our road to their camp, which was but a short distance off.
Soon after reaching there, an Indian woman issued from a lodge and approached the chief. She was covered with blood, and, crying in the most piteous tones, addressed the chief: "These are the men that killed my son on Green River, and will you not avenge his death?"
She was almost naked, and, according to their custom when a near relative is slain, had inflicted wounds all over her body in token of her deep mourning.
The chief, turning to the general, then said,
"The two men that were killed in your camp were not Black Feet, but my own warriors; they were good horse-thieves, and brave men. One of them was a son of this woman, and she is crying for his loss. Give her something to make her cease her cries, for it angers me to see her grief."
The general cheerfully made her a present of what things he had at hand, to the value of about fifty dollars.
"Now," said the chief to the woman, "go to your lodge and cease your crying." She went away seemingly satisfied.
During the day two other Indians came to the encampment, and, displaying each a wound, said, "See here what you white people have done to us; you shot us; white people shoot good in the dark."
These were the two whom we had seen run away after our night-discharge on the Green River. They had been wounded by the other two men's shot-guns, but their wounds were not serious. They said that their intention had been to steal our horses, but our eyes were too sharp for them. The general distributed some farther presents among these two men. Happening to look among their numerous horses, we recognized some that had been stolen from us at the time the general was sick, previous to our discovery of the Green River.
The general said to the chief, "I believe I see some of my horses among yours."
"Yes, we stole them from you."
"What did you steal my horses for?"
"I was tired with walking. I had been to fight the Black Feet, and, coming back, would have called at your camp; you would have given me tobacco, but that would not carry me. When we stole them they were very poor; they are now fat. We have plenty of horses; you can take all that belong to you."
The chief then gave orders for them to deliver up all the horses taken from our camp. They brought in eighty-eight — all in excellent condition — and delivered them up to the general, who was overjoyed at their recovery, for he had never expected to see his horses again.
On our issuing from their camp, many of the Indians bore us company for two days, until we came to a pass in the mountains called Bad Pass, where we encamped. Several of the party being out with their guns searching for game, a man by the name of Baptiste — not the boy — having a portion of a buffalo on his horse, came across a small stream flowing near the trail, when he halted to get a drink. While stooping to drink, a grizzly bear sprang upon him, and lacerated him in a shocking manner. Passing that way, I came across his dismounted horse, and, following his tracks down to the river, discovered the poor fellow with his head completely flayed, and several dangerous wounds in various parts of his body. I quickly gave the alarm, and procured assistance to carry him to the camp. Soon after reaching the camp we heard a great rush of horses, and, looking in the direction of the noise, perceived a party of our half-breeds charging directly toward our camp, and driving before them an other bear of enormous size. All the camp scattered and took to trees. I was standing by the wounded man at the time, and became so terrified that I hardly knew whether I was standing on the ground or was in a tree. I kept my eye on the bear, not supposing that he would enter our camp; but he held his course directly for me. I withdrew to look for a tree, but for some reason did not climb. Every man was calling to me, "To a tree, Jim! to a tree!" but by this time the bear was in camp, and the horsemen at his heels. On his seeing the wounded man lying there all covered with blood, he made a partial halt. I profited by the incident, and put a ball directly into his heart, killing his bearship instantly. The general fired at the same moment, his ball also taking good effect.
The next day we went through Bad Pass, carrying our wounded companion on a litter, who, notwithstanding his dreadful wounds, recovered. On arriving at the "Big Horn," as it is called there, we set about preparing boats, which, after five days, were ready for launching. There were fur-trappers with us, who, having made a boat for themselves, went on in advance, intending to trap along down until we should overtake them. They accordingly started. When we went down we found their boat and traps, which had been broken, but no remains of the trappers. By the appearance of the ground, it was evident that the Indians had surprised and murdered them, and afterward removed their bodies. Nothing else of consequence occurred during our run down the Big Horn and Yellow Stone to the junction of the latter with the Missouri, thus running a distance of eight hundred miles in our boats.
In effecting a landing at the junction of these two rivers we unfortunately sunk one of our boats, on board of which were thirty packs of beaver-skins, and away they went, floating down the current as rapidly as though they had been live beavers. All was noise and confusion in a minute, the general, in a perfect ferment, shouting to us to save packs. All the swimmers plunged in after them, and every pack was saved. The noise we made attracted a strong body of U. S. troops down to the river, who were encamped near the place, and officers, privates, and musicians lined the shore. They were under the command of General Atkinson, then negotiating a treaty with the Indians of that region on behalf of the government. General Atkinson and our general happened to be old acquaintances, and when we had made every thing snug and secure, we all went into camp, and freely indulged in festivities. Hurrah for the Mountains!" rung through the camp again and again.
The next morning we carried all our effects from the boats to the encampment, and our hunters went out in search of game. Not a day passed but we brought in great quanties of buffalo, venison, mountain-sheep, etc. Of the latter, we caught some very young ones alive, one of which I presented to Lieutenant (now General) Harney, which circumstance, I have no doubt, he still bears in mind.
After a stay of about a week, General Atkinson furnished us a boat of sufficient size to carry all our effects, and, breaking up the encampment, afforded us the pleasure of the company of all the troops under his command — we, gentlemen mountaineers, traveling as passengers. At our camping places we very willingly supplied the party with game.
At one of our encampments an amusing accident occurred. We were out hunting buffalo, and had succeeded in wounding a bull, who, furious with his wound, made, with the speed of lightning, directly for the camp, leaving a cloud of dust in his track. The troops, perceiving his approach, scattered in all directions as though an avalanche was bursting upon them. On went the buffalo, overturning tents, baggage, and guns — leaping every impediment that arrested his course; then, turning, he plunged into the river and gained the opposite prairie, leaving more than a hundred soldiers seared half to death at his visitation. They certainly discharged their pieces at him, but, for all the injury they inflicted, he will probably live to a good old age.
Previous to our arrival at Fort Clarke we met with another serious misadventure. The boat containing all our general's effects, running on a snag, immediately sunk. Again all our packs were afloat, and General Atkinson, witnessing the accident, ordered every man overboard to save the peltry, himself setting the example. In an instant, mountaineers, United States officers and soldiers plunged in to the rescue. Fortunately it was shoal water, not more than waist high, and all was speedily saved.
General Atkinson related a difficulty he had had with the Crow nation in the course of a treaty with them at Fort Clarke, on his way up the river. The Crows, in a battle with the Black Feet, had taken a half-breed woman and child, whom they had captured on the Columbia River some time previously. General Atkinson ordered them to liberate the captives, which they refused to do, saying that they had taken them from their enemies, the Black Feet, and that they clearly belonged to them. The general persisted in his demand, and the Indians refused to comply, even offering to fight about the matter. The general declined fighting that day, but desired them to come on the morrow and he would be prepared.
The next day the Indian force presented themselves for the onset, they bringing a host of warriors. One of the chiefs visited the military camp for a "talk." He had an interview with Major O'Fallen, who ordered him to give up the captives or prepare to fight. The chief boastingly replied, through Rose, the interpreter, that the major's party was not a match for the Crows; that he would whip his whole army. On this, the major, who was a passionate man, drew his pistol and snapped it at the chief's breast. It missed fire, and he then struck the Indian a violent blow on the head with the weapon, inflicting a severe gash. The chief made no resistance, but remained sullen. When this occurrence reached the ears of the Indian warriors, they became perfectly infuriated, and prepared for an instant attack. General Atkinson pacified them through Rose, who was one of the best interpreters ever known in the whole Indian country. During the hubbub, the Indians spiked the general's guns with wooden spikes, and stuffed them with grass.
Their principal chief, "Long Hair," then visited the camp, and addressed the general:
"White Chief, the Crows have never yet shed the blood of the white people; they have always treated them like brothers. You have now shed the first blood; my people are angry, and we must fight."
The general replied, "Chief, I was told by my friend, the great Red-haired Chief, that the Crows were a good people; that they were our friends. We did not come to fight the Crows; we came as their friends."
"The Red-haired Chief!" exclaimed Long Hair, in astonishment ; "are you his people?"
"Yes," replied the general.
"The Red-haired Chief is a great chief, and when he hears that you have shed the blood of a Crow, he will be angry, and punish you for it. Go home," he added, "and tell the Red-haired Chief that you have shed the blood of a Crow, and, though our people were angry, we did not kill his people. Tell him that you saw Long Hair, the Crow chief, to whom he gave the red plume many winters ago."
Long Hair and Rose then went out and harangued the warriors, who immediately withdrew, and soon the woman and child were brought into camp. The general made them a present of a great number of guns, and ammunition in abundance, at which they were highly delighted.
The reader who has perused "Lewis and Clarke's Travels" will please to understand that the "Red-haired Chief" spoken of above was none other than Mr. Clarke, whom the Crows almost worshiped while he was among them, and who yet hold his name in the highest veneration. He was considered by them to be a great "medicine man," and they supposed him lord over the whole white race.
The loss of the boat being supplied, and all to rights again, we continued our course down the Missouri, still in company with the troops, until we reached Fort Look-out, where we encamped for the night. There was a trading-post at this fort, belonging to the American Fur Company, in charge of Major Pitcher. The major made General Ashley present of a large grizzly bear for a plaything, and a pretty plaything we found him before we were done with him. He was made fast with a chain to the cargo-box on deck, and seemed to think himself captain; at any rate, he was more imperious in his orders than a commodore on a foreign station. He would suffer no one on deck, and seemed literally to apply the poet's words to himself,
"I am monarch of all I survey,
My right there is none to dispute."
We continued our course down the river, encamping on shore every night. We had a jovial time of it, telling stories, cracking jokes, and frequently making free with Uncle Sam's "O be joyful," of which there was great plenty for the supply of rations to the troops. The soldiers listened with astonishment to the wild adventures of the mountaineers, and would, in turn, engage our attention with recitals of their own experience.
At length we arrived at Council Bluffs, where we remained three days, feeling ourselves almost at home. We of course had a good time at the Bluffs, and the three days passed in continual festivities.
Providing ourselves with a good boat, we bade adieu to the troops, who stayed behind at the Bluffs, and continued our descent of the river. The current of the Missouri is swift, but to our impatient minds a locomotive would have seemed too tardy in removing us from the scenes of hardship and privation we had just gone through to the homes of our friends, our sweethearts, our wives and little ones.
Those who reside in maritime places, and have witnessed the hardy tars step ashore in their native land, can form an adequate idea of the happy return of the mountaineers from their wanderings on the Plains to St. Louis, which is their great sea-port; or, if a pun is admissible, I may perhaps say see-port; for there we see our old friends, there we see our fun and merriment, and there we sometimes "see sights."
Arrived at St. Charles, twenty miles above St.Louis, the general dispatched a courier to his friends, Messrs. Warndorf and Tracy, to inform them of his great success, and that he would be in with his cargo the next day about noon.
When we came in sight of the city we were saluted by a piece of artillery, which continued its discharges until we landed at the market-place. There were not less than a thousand persons present, who hailed our landing with shouts which deafened our ears. Those who had parents, brothers and sisters, wives or sweethearts, met them at the landing; and such a rushing, crowding, pulling, hauling, weeping, and laughing I had never before witnessed. Every one had learned our approach by the courier.
My father, who had moved to St. Louis, was in the crowd, and was overjoyed to see me. He had lost a part of his property by being surety for other men, and I could see that age had left its traces upon him during the little time that I had been absent.
Our cargo was soon landed and stored, the men receiving information that they would be paid off that afternoon at the store of Messrs. Warndorf and Tracy. We accordingly repaired thither in a body to receive our pay. The full amount was counted out in silver to each man, except three, namely, La Roche, Pellow, and myself. To us the general gave twenty-five dollars each, telling us he would see us there again. I immediately thought of my difficulty with him in the mountains, and concluded that the remainder of my pay was to be withheld on that account. We took our twenty-five dollars each, and went away, asking no farther questions, though we took no trouble to conceal our thoughts. Before we left the counting-room, the general told us to repair to any hotel we chose, and have whatever we liked to call for until the next morning, and he would pay the bill.
Accordingly, we all repaired to Le Barras's hotel, and had a glorious time of it. The house was thronged with our friends besides, who all felt themselves included in the general's hospitality. General Ashley called on us the next morning, and, perceiving that we had "run all night," told us to keep on another day at his expense, adding that, if we wished to indulge in a ride, he would pay for carriages. We profited by his hint, and did not fail to take into our party a good share of lasses and mountaineers.
The next morning the general again visited us, and, seeing we were pretty sober, paid the bill (not a trifling matter), and desired us to call on him at the store at ten o'clock. We went as appointed, not knowing yet how he would treat us. When we were assembled, he paid us our wages in full, made us a present of three hundred dollars each, and desired us to purchase a first-rate suit of clothes each at his expense.
"I give you this extra," he said, "for your faithful services to me in the mountains; for your watchfulness over my property and interest while there; for your kindness in caring for me while sick and helpless, carrying me when unable to walk, and not leaving me to perish in the camp alone."
I forgot to mention the disembarkation of Grizzly at the proper time, but will do so here. After the peltry was all landed and stored, the bear still occupied his station. Hundreds were yet gazing at him, many of whom had never seen one of the kind before. The general said to me, "James, how, under the sun, are we to get that animal off the boat?" I, having a few glasses of "artificial courage" to back me, felt exceedingly valorous, and thought myself able to throw a mill-stone across the Mississippi. Accordingly, I volunteered to bring him ashore. I procured a light stick, walked straight up to the bear, and, speaking very sharp to him (as he had to us all the way down the river), deliberately unfastened his chain. He looked me in the eyes for a moment, and, giving a low whine, drooped his head. I led him off the boat along a staging prepared for the purpose, the crowd instantly falling back to a respectful distance. Landing him without accident, the general wished me to lead him to the residence of Major Biddle, distant a quarter of a mile from the landing. Courageous as ever, I led him on, though some of the time he would lead his leader, Bruin often looking round at the crowd that was following up at a prudent distance behind. I arrived safe at the residence, and made Grizzly fast to an apple-tree that stood there. I had scarcely got to the length of his chain, when he made a furious spring at me; the chain, very fortunately, was a strong one, and held him fast.
I then called at the major's house, and, delivering our general's compliments to him, informed him he had sent a pet for his acceptance. He inquired what kind of a pet, and, taking him to the tree where I had made fast the bear, I showed the huge beast to him. The major almost quaked with fear. While we stood looking at him, a small pig happened to pass near the bear, when Grizzly dealt him such a blow with his paw that he left him not a whole bone in his body, and piggy fell dead out of the bear's reach.
The major then invited me in, and, setting out some of his best, I drank his health according to the custom of those days, and left to rejoin my companions.
