Chapter 31 Autobiography of James P Beckwourth Moving West 1856

 

 James Pierson Beckwourth (1798-1866)

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 31

Invitation to visit the Outlaws.—Interview with "the Elk that Calls."—Profitable Trade with the Outlaws.—Return to the Post.—Great Alarm among the Traders.—Five Horses killed at the Fort.—Flight from the Siouxs.—Safe arrival at the Fort.—Trade with the Arrapa-hos.—Attacked by a Cheyenne Warrior.—Peace restored.

WHILE in the midst of my occupations, a messenger was dispatched to me by the chief of a Cheyenne village, at that time encamped about twenty miles distant, with an invitation to visit them and trade there. This village was composed of outlaws from all the surrounding tribes, who were expelled from their various communities for sundry infractions of their rude criminal code; they had acquired a hard name for their cruelties and excesses, and many white traders were known to have been killed among them. The chief's name was Mo-he-nes-to (the Elk that Calls), and he was a terror to all white people in that region. The village numbered three hundred lodges, and could bring from twelve to fifteen hundred warriors into the field — the best fighters of the nation. We called it the City of Refuge.

The messenger arrived at my post, and inquired for the Crow.

"I am the Crow," I answered.

"The great chief, Mo-he-nes-to, wants the Crow to come to his lodge."

"What does he want with me?"

"He wants to trade much."

"What does he want to trade?"

"He wants much whisky, much beads, much scarlet, much kettles," and he enumerated a list of articles.

"Have your people any robes by them?"

"Wugh! they have so much robes that they can not move with them."

"Any horses?"

"Great many-good Crow horses."

"Well," said I, "I will go straightway, and you must show me the way."

"Who will go to the village of the Elk that Calls?'' I asked; "I want two men."

Peterson and another volunteered to accompany me; but by this time the matter in hand had reached Sublet's ears, and he came forward and said,

"You are not going to the village of the Outlaws, Beckwourth?"

"Yes," I replied, "I am."

"Don't you know that they kill whites there?"

"Yes, I know that they have killed them."

"Well, I object to your going."

"Captain Sublet," I said, "I have promised the Indian that I will go, and go I must. There has been no trader there for a long time, and they are a rich prize."

He saw that I was resolved, and, having given me the control of affairs, he withdrew his objection and said no more.

I accordingly prepared for the journey. Ordering the horses, I packed up my goods, together with twenty gallons of whisky, and issued forth on the way to uncertain destruction, and bearing with me the means of destruction certain.

The Indian conducted me to the chief's lodge. I dismounted, my two men following my example. The chief came to us, and passed the usual compliments. He desired me to take off my packs, at which request I immediately remounted my horse.

"What is the matter?" inquired the chief.

"When I send for my friends to come and see me," I said, "I never ask them to unpack their horses or to guard them, but I have it done for them."

"You are right, my friend," said he; "it shall be done. Get off your horse, and come into my lodge."

I dismounted again, and was about to follow him. My men, who did not understand our conversation, arrested my path to inquire what was in the wind. I bade them keep quiet, as all was amicable, and then entered the lodge. We held a long conversation together, during which the chief made many inquiries of a similar nature to those addressed me at the first village. In recounting our achievements, I found that I had stolen his horses, and that he had made reprisals upon the Crows, so that we were about even in the horse trade.

At length he wished me to broach the whisky. "No," said I, "my friend, I will not open the whisky until you send for your women to come with their robes, and they have bought what goods they want first. They work hard, and dress all your robes; they deserve to trade first. They wish to buy many fine things to wear, so that your warriors may love them. When they have traded all they wish, then I will open my whisky, and the men can get drunk. But if the men get drunk first, your women will be afraid of them, and they will take all the robes, and the women will get nothing."

"Your words are true, my friend," said the chief; our women shall trade before the men get drunk; they dress all our robes: it shall be according to your words."

Accordingly, he sent for all the women who had robes and wished to sell, to come and trade with the Crow. They were not long in obeying the summons. Forward they came, some with one robe and some with two. Two was the most that any of them had, as the men had reserved the most to purchase whisky. The trading was expeditiously effected; we did not have to take down and open all our goods, and then sell a skein of thread, and be informed by our customer that she would look elsewhere first, and perhaps call again, which is the practice of many young ladies, especially where there is an attractive shopman. We could hardly hand out things fast enough.

We served all the women to their entire satisfaction, and closed out our stock of dry-goods. We then proceeded to the whisky. Before opening the kegs, I laid down my rules to the chief. I told him that his people might spree as long as they chose, but that they must not obstruct my business, or interfere with me. As the liquor was served out to them, they must carry it out of the lodge, and not stay to be in my way and give me trouble. This was readily assented to, and the sales began.

Whisky will have the same effect every where, and if a man will traffic in the "cursed stuff," he must submit to his share of the mischief he creates. My understanding with the chief was productive of no effect. He came into the lodge, saying, "I have killed an Indian;" I looked, and saw that his battle-axe was dripping with blood. Yells and tumult increased outside; the chief was again making his way toward the lodge, protected by a host of friends, while behind him, and striving to get at him, was an infuriated throng, fighting and yelling like devils. My store in an instant was filled to overflowing with opposing parties, composed of outlaws from a dozen tribes. I sprang to secure my gun; and my companions, mistaking my movement, supposed I had started to run, and they broke out at the back of the lodge, and did not stop until they reached our post on the Platte.

Battle-axes and knives fairly rung through the lodge during the continuance of the fight; but it was over in a few minutes, and they withdrew to the place outside, and renewed it to greater advantage. At the restoration of peace, some ghastly wounds were shown to me, but, singular to say, none of the belligerents were killed.

Mo-he-nes-to, after a short interval, returned, without having received a single scratch, and said all was quiet again, and they wanted more whisky. The women wished to get some also, he informed me. I knew that, if the women were going to join in, I must have another supply, and I told the chief I had not enough left to get the women drunk.

"Send for more, then," said he. "Our women are buried up and smothered with robes, and will buy very much."

I soon found a volunteer to run to the post to carry an order to Sublet to send me twenty gallons more of whisky.

My assistants, after making their hasty exit from the back of the chief's lodge, reported at the post the state of affairs at the village of the Outlaws at the time they left. Guns were being fired, they said, and, beyond all doubt, Beckwourth was killed. No one dared to go and ascertain the result. Sublet was in great trouble. "I did my utmost to prevent his going," he consoled himself by saying, "but he went in opposition to all orders and advice; so, if he is killed, the responsibility does not rest upon me."

By-and-by my messenger arrived with the order for more whisky. Sublet took the letter and read it. "Ho !" said he, " Jim is not dead yet. He has sent for more fire-water. Who will take it to him?" Four men volunteered for the errand, and arrived with it next day. The Indians took their horses away from them, and they became alarmed; but when they shortly after saw me up to my neck in buffalo robes, their fear subsided. These two kegs went off as actively as the preceding, and the robes fairly poured in. The whole village moved on toward the post, singing, dancing, and drinking, and, when I had approached within five miles, I had to send for two kegs more.

In short, the sixty gallons of fire-water realized to the company over eleven hundred robes and eighteen horses, worth in St. Louis six thousand dollars.

This trading whisky for Indian property is one of the most infernal practices ever entered into by man. Let the reader sit down and figure up the profits on a forty-gallon cask of alcohol, and he will be thunderstruck, or rather whisky struck. When disposed of, four gallons of water are added to each gallon of alcohol. In two hundred gallons there are sixteen hundred pints, for each one of which the trader gets a buffalo robe worth five dollars! The Indian women toil many long weeks to dress these sixteen hundred robes. The white trader gets them all for worse than nothing, for the poor Indian mother hides herself and her children in the forests until the effect of the poison passes away from the husbands, fathers, and brothers, who love them when they have no whisky, and abuse and kill them when they have. Six thousand dollars for sixty gallons of alcohol! Is it a wonder that, with such profits in prospect, men get rich who are engaged in the fur trade? or is it a miracle that the poor buffalo are becoming gradually exterminated, being killed with so little remorse that their very hides, among the Indians themselves, are known by the appellation of a pint of whisky?

The chief made me a gratuity of forty robes. On two subsequent visits I paid him on his invitation, he made me further presents, until he had presented me with one hundred and eighty-five robes without receiving any equivalent. The extent of his "royal munificence" seriously alarmed Sublet. It was just this same profuse spirit, he said, that had bred disputes with other traders, often resulting in their losing their lives. It is as well a savage custom as civilized, to expect a commensurate return for any favors bestowed, and an Indian is so punctilious in the observance of this etiquette, that he will part with his last horse and his last blanket rather than receive a favor without requital.

Mo-he-nes-to, without intending it, was rather troublesome on this point. When he became sober after these drunken carousals, he would begin to reflect seriously on things. He would find his robes all gone; his women's labor — for it would take months of toil in dressing and ornamenting these robes — thrown unprofitably away; his people had nothing to show for their late pile of wealth, and their wants would remain unsupplied. They would have no guns or ammunition to fight the Crows, who were always well supplied, and their whole year's earnings were squandered. These reflections would naturally make him discontended and irritable, and he would betake himself to the post for reparation.

"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 any thing more any where 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 any thing 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 any thing 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 miles, 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 some one 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 staid 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 30 Autobiography of James P Beckwourth Moving West 1856

 

 James Pierson Beckwourth (1798-1866)

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 30

Departure for the Mountains.—Severe Sickness on the Way.—Arrival at Bent's Fort.—Arrival at Sublet's Fort.—Interview with the Cheyennes.—Difficulty with a Sioux Warrior.—His Death.—Successful Trade opened with various Tribes.—Incidents.

I STAID but five days in St. Louis, which time I devoted to a hasty visit among my friends. I entered into service with Messrs. Sublet and Vasques to return to the mountains and trade with any tribes I might find on the head-waters of the Platte and Arkansas rivers. This country embraces the hunting-grounds of the Cheyennes, the Arrap-a-hos, the Sioux, and the I-a-tans.

All preliminaries being arranged, which are of no interest to the reader, I bade my friends once more adieu; and, stepping on board a steam-boat bound up the Missouri, we were soon breasting its broad and turbid current. We spent the Fourth on board, amid much noise, revelry, and drunken patriotism. We were landed in safety at Independence, where we received our wagons, cattle, etc., with which to convey the immense stock of goods I had brought through the Indian country. We were very successful in escaping accident in our progress over the plains, until we reached the ridge which passes between the Arkansas and Platte rivers. While ascending this ridge, accompanied with Mr. Vasques, I was sun-struck. We were at that time twenty miles from water; I was burning with thirst, the heat was intolerable, and hostile Indians were before us. After incredible suffering we reached the river bank, and crossed the stream to an island, where I lay me down to die. All our medicines were in the wagons, and two days' journey in our rear. My fatigue and suffering had thrown me into a fever; I became delirious, and grew rapidly worse. I requested my companion to return to the wagons and procure me some medicine; but he refused to leave me, lest I might die in his absence.

I said to him, "If you stay by me I shall certainly die, for you can not relieve me; but if you go, and nature holds out till you return, there is some chance of my gaining relief. Go," I added, "and hasten your return."

He left me at my entreaties, but filled all our vessels with water before he started. I speedily fell asleep, and I know not how long I remained unconscious. When I at length awoke, I drank an inordinate quantity, which caused me to perspire copiously; this relieved me, and my recovery commenced from that moment, although I still suffered from a severe headache. The third day of my friend's absence I could walk about a little, and the fourth day, at noon, I kept a good lookout in the direction I expected succor. Suddenly I saw a head appear, and another, and then another, until four showed themselves. They are Indians, I said to myself; but if there are only four, I stand a passable chance with them, so let them come on. I saw they had discovered me, so I arose and showed myself. With joyous shouts they flew toward me. It was my companion, with three others, who had come either to bury me or to assist me to the wagons. Their joy on beholding me so miraculously restored was unbounded, while my delight at seeing them was almost as great. We remained on the island that night, and the following morning started for the wagons, which we found in two days.

In going for assistance, my friend had a narrow escape. He came suddenly upon a party of Pawnees, and one made a rush for his horse. He discharged his rifle hastily, and missed his mark. He then had to trust to his horse's heels; but, as he was jaded, he did not make very good speed. The Indians were on foot, and gave close chase, but, when they saw his rifle reloaded, they fell back to a wider distance, and plied him with arrows until he was out of reach.

I was placed in a wagon, and attended on as far as our circumstances would admit, until I recovered my accustomed health. We staid one night at Burt's Fort, on the Arkansas, and then moved on to our destination on the South Fork of the Platte. Here we erected suitable buildings within the fort for our proposed trading, and, among others, a barn, which we proceeded to fill with hay for the coming winter.

While staying at the fort, a man inquired of Sublet his reason for bringing up such a rascally fellow as I, to prompt the Indians into rising and massacring all the whites.

"Murray," said Sublet — for that was the man's name — "it is unsafe for you to express such sentiments in relation to Beckwourth; should they reach his ears, he would surely make you rue it. I have heard these foul aspersions upon his character before, and I am in a position to know that they are all unfounded. Had I the least suspicion of his integrity, I should be the last man to take him in my employ."

This conversation was reported to me at some distance from the fort, where Murray was perfectly safe. But these foul reports annoyed me exceedingly. They were like stabs in the dark, for no one ever accused me to my face of such misdeeds.

After having placed things to rights, we were dining together within the fort, when Mr. Sublet rose and said,

"Traders and clerks, you have come here to the mountains to work for me, and I expect every man to do his best. If I am prospered, I will do well by all of you. I desire a regular system established in my business out here, that my interests may be placed upon a secure footing. I am now going to deliver the key of my entire stock of goods to one man among you, in whom I have implicit confidence, and whose long experience and intimate acquaintance with the Indian character pre-eminently entitle him to the trust. This man will have full command of the fort, and full charge of its affairs. I wish you to receive him as a representative of myself, and, whatever orders you receive from him, obey them cheerfully and to the very letter."

All present promised ready acquiescence to the wishes of our chief.

He then delivered the key to me, saying, "Beckwourth, I place this trust in your keeping, believing you to be as morally worthy of the confidence I repose in you, as you are practically qualified to advance my interests. I abandon my affairs to your keeping. Do your best, and I shall be satisfied."

I was so entirely unprepared for this distinguished mark of confidence, that for a moment I was unable to reply. After a momentary irresolution, I said, "Mr. Sublet, you have other men present who are better able to discharge this trust. I thank you for the flattering reference, but I beg to be excused from assuming the responsibility."

"I engaged you," he answered, "to serve me in this capacity, and I wish you to accept the charge."

"In that case," I said, "I will do my best to promote your interest."

Shortly after, he called me apart, and said, "Beckwourth, I am deeply in debt. I have been losing for a long time. If you can replace me in one year, you shall be substantially rewarded, and I shall feel sincerely grateful for your service."

"How much do you owe?" I inquired.

"Over seventeen thousand dollars."

"Well," said I, "if the men co-operate with me, and carry out my instructions, I feel confident of working you straight."

I forthwith set about establishing sub-posts in various places, with the Siouxs, Arrap-a-hos, I-a-tans, and Cheyennes, and selected the best men at hand to attend them. I placed one at the mouth of Crow Creek, which I called my post, but left a man in charge of it, as I was at present fully occupied in traveling from one post to another."

We had not, as yet, found any customers; but, as we were in the Cheyenne country, I knew some of that nation could not be very far off. I sent three different messengers in search of them to invite them to trade, but they all returned without having discovered the whereabouts of the Indians. Tired of these failures, I took a man with me, and started in the direction of the Laramie mountain. While ascending the mount, I cast my eyes in the direction of a valley, and discovered buffalo running in small groups, which was sufficient evidence that they had been chased recently by Indians. We went no farther, but encamped there, and at nightfall we saw fires. The next morning a dense smoke hung like a cloud over the village of the Cheyennes; we ate a hasty meal, and started to pay them a visit.

As we approached the village we saw William Bent, an interpreter, entering before us. He visited the chief's lodge; we followed him in, and seated ourselves near him. He looked aghast, and addressed me: "My God! Beckwourth, how dare you come among the Cheyennes? Don't you know that they will kill you if they discover you?"

I replied that I thought not.

He had come on the same errand as ourselves, namely, to induce a portion of the village to remove to the Platte, as buffalo were abundant in that region. After a conversation was held between Bent and a chief, the latter inquired of Bent who we were. He informed him that we were Left Hand's (Sublet's) men.

"What do they want here?" he asked.

"They come for the same purpose that I have," Bent answered, "to have you move on to the Platte."

Bent then inquired of me what account I wished to give of myself, as he would interpret for me; but, preferring to interpret for myself, I asked if there was a Crow among them that I could speak to. At the word "Crow" they all started, and every eye was riveted upon me.

One stepped forward, and said, "I am a Crow."

"You a Crow?"

"Yes."

"How long have you been away from them?"

"Twenty winters."

Bent was in the greatest perplexity. "You are not surely going to tell them who you are, Jim? If you do, you'll cost your friends nothing for your funeral."

This apprehension on the part of Bent proved to me that, although he had lived long among the Indians, he had still much to learn of their real character. I therefore requested him to quiet his fears and bide the result.

Turning to the Crow, I then said, "Tell the Cheyennes that I have fought them many winters, that I have killed so many of their people that I am buried with their scalps; I have taken a host of their women and children prisoners; I have ridden their horses until their backs were sore; I have eaten their fat buffalo until I was full; I have eaten their cherries, and the other fruits of their land, until I could eat no more. I have killed a great Crow chief, and am obliged to run away, or be killed by them. I have come to the Cheyennes, who are the bravest people in the mountains, as I do not wish to be killed by any of the inferior tribes. I have come here to be killed by the Cheyennes, cut up, and thrown out for their dogs to eat, so that they may say that they have killed a great Crow chief."

He interpreted this unreserved declaration faithfully to the chief, and I observed Bent ready to fall from his seat at what he deemed my foolhardy audacity.

"You are certainly bereft of your senses," he remarked; "the Indians will make sausage-meat of you."

Old Bark, the patriarch of the Cheyennes, rose and said: "Warrior, we have seen you before; we know you; we knew you when you came in; now we know you well. We know you are a great brave. You say you have killed many of our warriors; we know you do not lie. We like a great brave, and we will not kill you; you shall live."

I answered, "If you will not kill me, I will live with you; if you become poor, like some of the other tribes; and you need warriors to help you against your enemies, my arm is strong, and perhaps I will assist you to overcome them; but I will not at this time give you my word that I will do so. If you do not kill me, I am going to trade with you for many moons. I will trade with you fairly; I will not cheat you, as some of the traders have cheated you. I have a great many goods over on the Platte, such as you want, more than would fill many of your lodges. They are new, and look well. But, mind you, you must trade fairly with me. I have heard that you sometimes treat your traders badly; that you take away their goods, and whip them, and make them run out of your country to save their lives. Your people must never serve me in that manner; they must pay me for all they get; and if any one strikes me, I shall kill him, and thereby show you that I am brave. If any one should strike me, and I should not kill him, you would call me a woman, and say I was no brave."

They then asked me, through the Crow interpreter, if I was in such and such a battle between their nation and the Crows, all of which questions I answered truthfully.

"Do you remember that in such a battle we lost such a brave?" describing him.

"Yes."

"Who killed him?"

"I did." Or, if I did not kill him, I would tell them the name of the Crow who did.

"Did he fight well?"

"Yes, he fought well."

"He died like a brave man, then!" they would ejaculate.

"Were you in such a battle?" asked another.

"Yes."

"Did you see such a warrior fall?"

"Yes."

"Did he fight strong like a brave?"

"No, he did not fight well."

"Ugh! he was no brave; he deserved to be killed."

In battle every warrior has his personal device painted on his shield, chosen according to his fancy. My "armorial bearing" was a crescent, with a green bird between the horns, and a star on each side the field. I described my novel device, and there was a great movement among them, for most of them distinctly recollected that shield, and I saw myself rising in their estimation. Their brave hearts rejoiced to have a true warrior before them, for they esteemed me as brave as themselves.

One of their great chiefs, named the Bob-tailed Horse, arose, and asked me if I remembered the battle on Pole Creek. I replied that I did.

"You killed me there," he said, "but I did not die;" and he pointed out two scars upon his chest, just below the lower rib, where the balls from my gun entered, and which must have killed any body but an Indian.

"Where did I hit you?" he asked.

"Ugh!" said I; "you missed me."

Old Bark then said, "Warrior, you killed me once too: look here;" and he withdrew the hair from his right temple, and I saw that his cheek had been badly torn, and his ear was entirely missing. "But," he added, "I did not die. You fought bravely that day."

Had I gone among the Pawnees, the Siouxs, or many other tribes, and held this talk, I should have been hewn to pieces in a moment; but the Cheyennes were great braves themselves, and admired the quality in others, the Crows being their only equals.

While I sat talking thus, one of my men entered the village bearing two ten-gallon kegs of whisky. He requested me to take one and sell it out, while he went to the other end of the village, where the Siouxs were encamped, to sell the other. I had hitherto always opposed the sale of liquor to the Indians, and, during my chieftainship of the Crows, not one drop had ever been brought into the village; but now I was restrained by no such moral obligation. I was a mere trader, hazarding my life among the savages to make money for my employers. The sale of liquor is one of the most profitable branches of a trader's business, and, since the appetite for the vile potion had already been created, my personal influence in the matter was very slight. I was no lawgiver; I was no longer in a position to prohibit the introduction of the white man's fire-water; if I had refused to sell it to the Indians, plenty more traders would have furnished it to them; and my conscientious scruples would benefit the Indians none, and would deprive my embarrassed employer of a very considerable source of profit.

Running these things hurriedly over in my own mind, I took the proffered keg, and dealt it all out within two hours. Certainly the rate of profit was high enough; if a man wants a good price for the sale of his soul to his satanic majesty, let him engage in the liquor business among the nations of the Rocky Mountains. Our liquor was a choice article. One pint of alcohol, costing, I suppose, six cents, was manufactured into five times the quantity of whisky, and this was retailed to our insatiate customers at the rate of one pint for each buffalo robe. If the robe was an extra fine one, I might possibly open my heart, and give two pints. But I felt no particular inducement to liberality in my dealings, for I thought the greatest kindness I could show my customers was to withhold the commodity entirely.

Before I had got through with my keg I had a row with an Indian, which cost him his life on the spot. While I was busy in attending the tap, a tall Sioux warrior came into my establishment, already the worse for liquor, which he had obtained elsewhere. He made some formidable strides round and near me, and then inquired for the Crow. I was pointed out to him, and, pot valiant, he swaggered up to me.

"You are a Crow?" he exclaimed.

"Yes."

"You are a great Crow brave?"

"Yes."

"You have killed a host of Siouxs?"

"No; I have killed a host of Cheyennes, but I have only killed fourteen Siouxs with my own hand."

"Look at me," said he, with drunken gasconade; "my arm is strong; I am the greatest brave in the Sioux nation. Now come out, and I will kill you."

"No," I said, "I did not come here to be killed or to kill; I came here to trade. I could kill you as easily as I could kill a squaw, but you know that you have a host of warriors here, while I am alone. They would kill me after I had killed you. But if I should come in sight of your village with twenty of my Crow warriors, you would all run and leave your lodges, women, and children. Go away; I want nothing to do with you. Your tongue is strong, but you are no brave."

I had told the Cheyennes but a few moments previously that I had been among all the nations in the country, and that it had ever been my invariable rule, when struck by a Red Man, to kill him. I was determined to prove the truth of my declaration in this instance. I had my battle-axe hanging from my wrist, and I was ready at a moment's warning. The Sioux continued his abuse of me in his own tongue, which I paid no attention to, for I supposed that, like his white brethren, he might utter a great deal of provocation in his cups, and straightway repent it when he became sober.

Finally, he became so importunate that I saw it was time to take an active part. I said, "You want to kill me, eh?" I would fight with you, only I know I should be killed by the Siouxs afterward, and I should have you for my waiter in the spirit land. I would rather kill a good brave, if I kill any."

This was a very opprobrious speech, for it is their faith that when an Indian is slain who has previously slain a foe, the first-killed warrior becomes waiter in the spirit land to the one who had laid him low. In deed, it was more than he could endure. He jerked off the cloth that was fastened round his hips, and struck me in the face with it. I grasped my battle-axe, but the blow I aimed was arrested by a lodge pole, which impended over his head, and saved him from immediate death. The lodge pole was nearly severed with the blow. I raised my arm again, but it was restrained by the Cheyennes, who had been sitting round with their heads declined during the Sioux's previous abuse.

The Sioux chief, Bull Bear, was standing near, and was acquainted with the whole particulars of the difficulty. He advanced, and chopped his warrior down, and hacked him to pieces after he fell.

"Ugh!" grunted he, as coolly as possible, "you ought to have been killed long ago, you bad Indian!"

This demonstration on my part had a good effect. The Indians examined the cut inflicted by the edge of my axe on the lodge pole, and declared mine a strong arm. They saw I was in earnest, and would do what I had threatened, and, except in one single instance, I had no farther trouble.

Influenced by my persuasions, two hundred lodges of the Cheyennes started for the Platte, Bent and myself accompanying them. On our way thither we met one of my wagons, loaded with goods, on its way to the North Fork of the Platte. There was a forty-gallon cask of whisky among its contents, and, as the Indians insisted on having it opened, I brought it out of the wagon, and broached it. Bent begged me not to touch it, but to wait till we reached the fort. I was there for the purpose of making money, and when a chance offered, it was my duty to make the most of it. On that, he left me, and went to the fort. I commenced dealing it out, and, before it was half gone, I had realized sixteen horses and over two hundred robes.

While I was busy in my traffic, the Indians brought in four trappers whom they had chanced to pick up. The poor fellows appeared half frightened to death, not knowing what their fate would be. I addressed them in English. "How are you, boys? Where are you bound?"

"These Indians must decide that," they replied. Are they good Indians?"

"Yes," I replied. "They will not harm you." They informed me that they were returning from the mountains with twelve packs of beaver, and, while encamped one night, the Crows had stolen their horses. They had cached their peltry, and now wanted to buy more horses to carry it to some fort.

I made a bargain with them for their beaver, and, taking some horses, went with them myself to their late encampment, for I could not trust them alone for fear they would take their skins to some other post. We disinterred the peltry, and with it reached the fort without accident. The trappers staid with us two or three weeks, and then, purchasing their outfit and horses, they again started for the mountains.

We had a prosperous fall and winter trade, and accumulated more peltry than our wagons could transport, and we had to build boats to convey it to St. Louis. At the settlement of accounts, it was found that we had cleared sufficient to pay Mr. Sublet's debts, and enough over to buy a handsome stock of goods for the next season's trade.

I spent the summer at the fort, while Sublet and Fitzpatrick went on with the peltry to St. Louis. I had but little to do, as the Indians had removed to their summer retreats, and I spent my time very agreeably with the few men remaining behind, in hunting buffalo for our own use. About the last of August our goods arrived, and we set ourselves to work again at business. I put up at the North Fork of the Platte, and had a busy fall and winter trade, making many very profitable bargains for the company. The Cheyennes thought me the best trader that ever visited them, and would not allow any other company to traffic with their villages. This sorely vexed my rival traders, and once or twice I had my life attempted in consequence. When others came to ask permission to open a trading-post, the Cheyennes would say, "No; we do all our trading with the Crow. He will not cheat us. His whisky is strong."

When I found I had obtained the confidence of the nation, I told the Cheyennes that if they allowed other traders to come in I should leave them, and they would be cheated by those who sold poor whisky, that would not make them merry half so soon as mine. This may be considered selfish; but I knew that our company was keenly competed with by three or four rival companies, and that the same representations that I used to keep the trade in my hands were freely urged by others to attract it from me. There was also a farther inducement for the Cheyennes to do their business with me, which was founded upon their respect for me as a great brave, who had killed a number of their countrymen. Whether there was diplomatic finesse enough in their minds to reflect that, while I was harmlessly engaged with them, I could not be fighting in the bands of their enemies, and adding to my present number of scalps, I can not pretend to say.

Chapter 29 Autobiography of James P Beckwourth Moving West 1856

 

 James Pierson Beckwourth (1798-1866)

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 29

Return to St. Louis.—Interview with General Gaines.—The Muleteers' Company.—Departure for Florida.—Wreck of the "Maid of New York."—Arrival at Fort Brooke.-Tampa Bay.—Bearer of Dispatches to General Jessup.—Battle of O-ke-cho-be.—Anecdotes and Incidents.

I HAD speedy passage to St. Louis, and arrived there after an absence of five months. I mentioned that I had left some business unsettled at the time of my sudden leave. This was none other than an affair matrimonial; but on my return I had some misunderstanding with my fair dulcinea, and the courtship dropped through.

At this time the Florida war was unfinished. General Gaines was in St. Louis for the purpose of raising a company of men familiar with Indian habits. Mr. Sublet had spoken to him about me, and had recommended me as being particularly well acquainted with Indian life. The general sent a request that I would call upon him at his quarters. I went accordingly, and was introduced by Sublet.

The general inquired of me how I would like to go to Florida to fight the Indians. I replied that I had seen so much of Indian warfare during the last sixteen years that I was about tired of it, and did not want to engage in it again, at least for the present. He remarked that there was a good opportunity there for renown. He wished, he said, to raise a company which would go down as muleteers; that their duties would be light, and so on through the stereotyped benefits peculiar to a soldier's life.

Sublet recommended me to engage. Florida, he said, was a delightful country, and I should find a wide difference between the cold region of the Rocky Mountains and the genial and salubrious South.

The general then inquired if I could not raise a company of mountain-boys to go with me. I replied that I thought I could, or that, at any rate, I would make the effort.

The trapping business was unusually dull at that time, and there were plenty of unoccupied men in the city ready to engage in any enterprise. I went among my acquaintance, and soon collected a company of sixty-four men. I went and reported my success to the general. He wished to see the men. I brought them all forward, and had their names enrolled. I was appointed captain of the company, with three lieutenants elected from the men.

On the ninth day of my stay in St. Louis, we went on board a steamer going down stream, and were quickly, on our way to the Seminole country. We had a delightful journey to New Orleans, where we were detained five days in waiting for a vessel to transport us to the fields of "renown." While waiting in New Orleans I fell in with several old acquaintances, who gave me an elegant parting dinner. I then sported the commission of captain in the service of Uncle Sam. Our vessel, the Maid of New York, Captain Carr, being at length ready for sea, my soldiers, with their horses, were taken on board, and we set sail for Tampa Bay. I now, for the first time in my life, saw salt water, and the sickness it produced in me led me to curse General Gaines, and the trappings of war to boot. Our vessel stranded on a reef, and there she remained snug enough, all efforts to dislodge her proving fruitless. There was one small island in sight to leeward; in every other direction there was nothing visible but the heaving ocean. Wreckers, who seemed to rise from the sea-foam, flocked instantly around us, and were received by our captain with a ready volley of nautical compliment. The vessel had settled deeply into a bed of sand and rock; the water was rapidly gaining in her hold, and my commission, together with my gallant companions in arms, seemed, at that moment, to have a slim chance of ever serving our respected uncle in the "fields of renown." I ascended the rigging to take a survey of the country. Many a time an elevated prospect had delivered me from difficulties, if dissimilar, yet not less imminent, than those that now menaced me. Still I felt that, could those ratlines I was now ascending be transformed into the back of my Indian war-steed, this ocean be replaced with a prairie, and that distant speck which they called an island be transmuted into a buffalo, I would give my chance of a major-generalship in purchase of the change; for the sensations of hunger I began to feel were uncomfortably acute, and I saw no immediate prospect of alleviating the pain. Suddenly I saw a long line of black smoke, which I thought must be from a prairie fire. I reported my discovery to the captain, and he hoisted our colors at half-mast, to signal for assistance. A small steamer came in sight, and made toward us, and finally ranged up under our stern. She took off all my men except myself and twelve others. I wrote to the commandant at Tampa Bay to inform him of our situation, and asking him for immediate assistance. After twelve days' stay on the reef, two small brigs came out to us, and received on board ourselves, with our horses and forage, conveying us to Tampa Bay, where they cast anchor. Major Bryant sent for me to his quarters, and I forthwith presented myself before him.

This officer gave me a very cordial welcome, congratulating the service on having an experienced mountaineer, and saying several other very complimentary things. At length he said, "Captain Beckwourth, I wish to open a communication between this port and the head-quarters of Colonel Jessup, distant about one hundred miles. I have received no dispatches from there, although nine couriers have been dispatched by Colonel Taylor."

I replied, "Sir, I have no knowledge of the country; I know nothing of its roads or trails, the situation of its posts, nor do I so much as know the position of Colonel Jessup's command. To attempt to convey dispatches while so little prepared to keep out of harm's way, I very much fear, would be to again disappoint the service in the delivery of its messages, and to afford the Seminoles an additional scalp to those they have already taken."

He pooh-poohed my objections. "A man," said Major Bryant, "who has fought the Indians in the Rocky Mountains the number of years that you have, will find no difficulty here in Florida."

"Well," I assented, "furnish me with the bearings of the country, and direct me to the colonel's camp, and I will do my best to reach there."

Accordingly, the major furnished me with all the necessary instructions, and I started alone on my errand.

It was my acquired habit never to travel along any beaten path or open trail, but rather to give such road a wide berth, and take the chances of the open country. I observed my invariable custom on this occasion, merely keeping in view the bearings of the position I was steering for. I started from Major Bryant's post about sunrise, and reached the colonel's head-quarters at nightfall the following day. I passed through the camp without seeing it; but the sound of a bugle falling on my ear, I tacked about, and finally alighted upon it.

As I rode up I was hailed by a sentinel,

"Who come dere?"

"An express."

"Vat you vant in dish camp?"

"I wish to see Colonel Jessup. Call the officer of the guard."

"Vat for you come from dat way vere ish de Schimynoles?"

"Call your officer of the guard," said I, impatiently. The officer of the guard at length appeared.

"What are you here again for?" he inquired of me. "I wish to see the commanding officer," I replied. "Yes, you are always wishing to see the commanding officer," he said; "but he will not be troubled with you much longer; he will soon commence hanging you all."

"I demand to be shown to the commanding officer, sir," I reiterated.

"Who are you, then?"

"I am a bearer of dispatches."

"Give them to me."

"I was not instructed to give them to you. I shall not do it, sir."

"I believe you came from the Seminoles; you came from that direction."

"You believe wrong, sir. Will you show me to Colonel Jessup, or will you not?"

This very cautious officer of the guard then went to the marquee of the colonel, and addressed him: "Here is another of those Seminoles, sir, who says he has dispatches for you. What shall I do with him?"

The colonel came out, and eyed me scrutinizingly. "Have you brought dispatches for me?" he inquired. "I have, sir."

"From where?"

"From Tampa Bay, sir."

"He came from the Seminoles, colonel," interposed the officer of the guard.

"You are mistaken again, sir," I said, giving him the look of a Crow in the midst of a battle; for I was not yet hireling enough not to feel aggravated at being called by implication a liar.

"Let me see your dispatches," said the colonel.

I hnded him the documents; he took them, and passed into his tent.

This did not suit me. I resolved to return instantly. I had not been treated with common civility; no inquiries had been made about my appetite; I was not even invited to alight from my horse. I had neither eaten nor slept since I left Tampa Bay. I was on the point of turning my horse's head, secretly resolving that these were the last dispatches I would bear in that direction, when the colonel called,

"Captain Beckwourth, alight! alight, sir, and come into my quarters. Orderly, have Captain Beckwourth's horse taken immediate care of. You must be hungry, captain."

"What I need most now is sleep," I said; "let me have a little repose, and then I shall feel refreshed, and will not refuse to sit down to a meal."

The colonel bowed assent, and, raising a canvas door, pointed out to me a place for repose, at the same time promising me I should not be disturbed. When I awoke, I presented myself, and was regaled with a good substantial supper. This recruited me, and I was again fit for service.

The colonel made many inquiries of my past service. Major Bryant had made very favorable mention of me in his dispatches, which seemed to have inspired quite an interest in the colonel's mind. He asked me if I was a native of Florida, where I had spent my early days, and my reason for entering the army. I answered all his questions as briefly as possible, mentioning that I had been tempted among the Seminoles by the promise held out by General Gaines of my gaining "renown." The colonel thought my company of mountaineers a valuable acquisition to the service, and he made no doubt we should achieve great credit in ferreting out the hiding-places of the Indians.

He soon had his papers ready; they were delivered to me, and I departed. On the way I stopped at a fort, the name of which I forget, and took a fresh horse. I finally arrived at the Bay without seeing an Indian.

I staid with my company for two or three weeks at Fort Brooke, during which time we were engaged in breaking-in mules. We were then placed under the command of Colonel Taylor, afterward General, and President of the United States, whose force was composed of United States troops and volunteers, some of the latter being from Missouri. The colonel advanced southward with sixteen hundred men, erecting, as we advanced, a fort at the interval of every twenty-five miles.

On the morning of Christmas-day (1837) our camp was beleaguered by a large force of Indians, and Colonel Taylor ordered an advance upon them. The spot was thickly grown with trees, and numbers of our assailants were concealed among the branches; as our line advanced, therefore, many were singled out by the enemy, and we lost fearfully in killed and wounded. The yelling was the most deafening I ever heard, for there were many negroes among the enemy, and their yells drowned those of the Red Men. I soon found we had a different enemy from the Black Feet to fight, and different ground to fight on. The country lost several valuable lives through this slight brush with the Indians. The gallant Colonel Gentry, of the Missouri volunteers, was shot through the head; Colonel Thompson, and several other officers, were also among the slain. The enemy had made an excellent choice of ground, and could see our troops while remaining concealed themselves.

I placed myself behind a tree, and Captain Morgan, of the Missouri Spies, was similarly sheltered close by. We were surrounded with Indians, and one was watching, on the opposite side of the tree that protected me, for a chance to get my scalp. A Missourian picked off a fine fat negro who had ensconced himself in a live oak tree. As he fell to the ground it shook beneath him: the fruit was ripe, but unfit for food.

Seeing the men dropping around, Major Price ordered a retreat. The order was instantly countermanded by Colonel Davenport, who, by so doing, saved many lives.

Colonel Foster had taken a very exposed position on the bough of a tree, where he was visible to all. He ordered his men to lie low and load their muskets; he waited till he saw a favorable opportunity, and then shouted, "Fire, boys, and pour it into the red and black rascals!"

A charge with bayonets was finally ordered, and the Indians, not relishing the look of the sharp steel, retreated; however, not before they had seized a sergeant-major and a private from our line, and scalped them alive.

This was the battle of O-ke-cho-be, which lasted four hours. We lost over a hundred in killed and wounded; the enemy left nine Indians and a negro dead upon the field. Sam Jones, the half-breed, was only eight miles distant, with a force of a thousand warriors; most providentially he had been dissuaded by the negroes from advancing, who assured him that the whites would not fight on Christmas-day.

It was reported that Colonel Taylor was uncontrollably angry during the battle, and that his aids and other officers had to hold him by main force to prevent him from rushing among the enemy, and meeting certain death. I do not know what truth there was in this, for I saw nothing of it, nor, indeed, did I see the colonel during the whole of the four hours' fighting.

On the conclusion of the action Colonel Taylor wished to send dispatches to Tampa Bay. He requested Captain Lomax to take his company and go with them. The captain refused, for the reason that he and his men would infallibly be massacred. The colonel remarked then, "Since you are all afraid, I will go myself." He sent for me, and demanded if I could raise a sufficient number of brave men among my mountaineers to carry dispatches to the Bay.

I answered, certainly, if I could have his favorite horse, which was the fleetest one in the whole army, and such excellent bottom that he was as fresh after a journey as before. I considered that, if I had to run the gauntlet through a host of Seminoles and infuriated negroes, the best horse was none too good, and was, indeed, my only means of salvation.

When ready to start, I applied for the dispatches.

"Where are your men?" asked the colonel.

"My men are in their quarters, colonel," I said. "I am going to carry those dispatches by myself."

"They must go through," he remarked, "and I want them to go well guarded."

"I am not going to fight, colonel," I replied, "I am going to run; and one man will make less noise than twenty. If I am not killed the dispatches shall arrive safe; my life is certainly worth as much to me as the charge I am intrusted with, and for personal safety I prefer going alone."

In our progress out the troops had cut their way through several hummocks, and had thrown the bushes up on both sides. I had to pass through some of these lanes. It was night when I started, and as I was riding through one of these excavations at a good pace, I heard a sudden noise in the brush. I saw myself in a trap, and my hair bristled up with affright. I was greatly relieved, however, by the speedy discovery that it was only a deer I had scared, and which was scampering away at its utmost speed. I continued on, resting a short time at each fort, until I arrived in sight of Fort Brooke. As soon as I arrived within hailing distance, I shouted "Victory! victory !" which brought out officers and men, impatient to hear the news. I could not see that O-ke-cho-be was much of a victory: indeed, I shrewdly suspected that the enemy had the advantage; but it was called a victory by the soldiers, and they were the best qualified to decide.

On my return, I found Colonel Taylor, soon after the battle, had retrograded to Fort Bassinger. We lay at that fort a long while; spies were vigilantly on the look-out, but nothing very encouraging was reported. I and my company of mountaineers did not encamp with the other troops, but took up our quarters at a considerable distance from the main guard. We were quite tired of inactivity, and wanted to go somewhere or do something. Being quartered by ourselves, we were not subjected to the restrictions and military regulations of the camp; we had our own jollifications, and indulged in some little comforts which the camp did not enjoy. We always would have a large fire when there was need for it, for it destroyed the millions of musquitoes and other vermin that annoyed us; and, as some of our company were always about, the Indians never molested us.

There was a large hummock about four miles distant from the fort which the Indians infested in great numbers, but, as they could not be dislodged without great loss, our colonel was constrained to content himself with closely watching them. One day I proposed to my men to take a stroll, and they fell with great alacrity into the proposition. We passed down to the interdicted hummock, where we shot two deer, and found quite an assortment of stock. We drove them all to the camp before us, to the great admiration of the officers and men present. We had captured quite a drove of hogs, several head of cattle, and a good sprinkling of Seminole ponies. We saw no Indians at the hummock, though certainly we did not search very diligently for them.

During our stay at the fort, the communication between that post and Charlotte's Harbor was closed, and one messenger had been killed. The quartermaster inquired of me if I would undertake the trip. I told him I would; and set one hundred dollars as the price of the undertaking, which he thought quite reasonable. I started with the dispatches, and proceeded at an easy gallop, my eye glancing in every direction, as had been my wont for many years. In casting a look about two gun-shots ahead, I felt sure that I saw some feathers showing themselves just above the palmettos, and exactly in the direction that I was bending my steps. I rode a short distance farther, and my suspicion was confirmed. I immediately stopped my horse and dismounted, as though for the purpose of adjusting my saddle, but in reality to watch my supposed foes. In a minute or two several heads appeared, looking in my direction, and withdrew again in an instant. Immediately the heads declined behind the grass, I sprang upon my horse, and reined him out of the road, taking a wide circuit round them, which I knew would carry me out of danger. I then looked after them, and tantalized them with my gestures in every manner possible, motioning them to come and see me; but they seemed to be aware that their legs were not long enough to reach me, so they digested their disappointment, and troubled me no farther. I arrived safe at the Harbor that same day, delivered my dispatches, and was back at the fort the following night.

We now experienced a heavy rain, which deluged the entire country, and prevented any farther operations against the Indians. The colonel ordered a retreat to Tampa Bay, and, as there was no danger of molestation on the way, many of the officers obtained liberty to gallop on in advance of the army. Colonel Bryant rode a very valuable black charger, acknowledged to be the best horse in camp. After traveling on a while, the colonel said, "I have a notion to ride on and get in to-day, as my presence is required; you can get in to-morrow at your leisure." A number said, If you can get in to-day, we can, and finally the whole party proposed starting off together.

We at length came to a swampy place in the road, which spread over five miles, and in many places took our horses off their feet. This place forded, there was then a narrow stream, and after that it was all dry land. Having passed the swamp and the stream, and got fairly on to dry land again, I took the saddle off my mule, which example all followed, and, with the assistance o£ a brother officer, wrung the saddle-blanket as dry as possible, and then spread it out fairly in the sun to dry. In the mean while, the horses helped themselves to a good feed of grass, and we all partook of a hearty lunch likewise.

Thus refreshed, we saddled up and proceeded again. After a few miles travel we discovered the rear of Bryant's party, who were toiling slowly along, and goring their animals' flanks in the vain endeavor to urge them into speed. We passed them with a hearty cheer. We journeyed on until within three miles of the fort, where there was a short bend in the road, and a foot-trail across, which saved about a hundred yards. "Now, gentlemen," said I, "let us raise a gallop, and pass every body on the road." The work was at once accomplished, some of my men deriding those left be hind on account of their miserable progress. We then all struck into a gallop, and soon reached the fort, and several of our company found time to get quite intoxicated before the quarter-master arrived. He, however, soon recovered his equanimity of temper, and begged a solution of the mystery how we could come in with our animals fresh, while his and his companions' horses were jaded to death. He was referred by all to the captain of the mountaineers.

I said, "A horse, colonel, is only flesh and blood, and his system requires greater care than that of almost any other animal. We beat your powerful steed with inferior animals by affording them a short rest, with a mouthful or two of grass on the road, and by wringing our blankets after we had passed the water."

Now we had another long interval of inactivity, and I began to grow tired of Florida, with its inaccessible hummocks. It seemed to me to be a country dear even at the price of the powder that would be required to blow the Indians out of it, and certainly a poor field to work in for renown. My company and I, its commander, had nothing to do except to carry an occasional dispatch, and I wanted excitement of some kind — I was indifferent of what nature, even if it was no better than borrowing horses of the Black Feet. The Seminoles had no horses worth stealing, or I should certainly have exercised my talents for the benefit of the United States.

The last dispatches that I carried in Florida I bore from Fort Dade to Fort Brooke. In accomplishing this, I traveled with my customary caution, avoiding the trail as much as possible. In a part where I anticipated no danger, I took the trail, and fell asleep on my horse, for I had ridden four days and nights without rest, except what I had snatched upon horseback. Suddenly my horse sprang aside, instantly awaking me. I found I had been sleeping too long, for I had passed the turning-point, and was now near a hummock. To return would cost me several miles travel. My horse's ears informed me there was something in motion near by. I pondered my position, and ultimately resolved to take the chances and go ahead. The road through the hummock was just wide enough to admit the army wagons to pass. I bid my horse go, and he sprung forward with tremendous bounds. He had not reached through this dark and dangerous pass when I saw the flash of several guns, and the balls whizzed harmlessly past me. I discharged my pistols at the lair of my foes, and traveled on in safety to the fort.

I grew tired of this, and informed Colonel Bryant that I wished to resign my task. "Why?" said he; "every body who undertakes it gets killed, while you never see any Indians. What are we to do?"

When in camp, I had frequently seen men come running in half dead with alarm, saying that they had seen Indians, or had been fired upon by Indians. I remarked that they were always ridiculed by the officers; even the privates disbelieved them. Seeing this, I determined to say nothing about my adventure; for, if they had received my assertion with incredulity, it might have led to an unpleasant scene in the wigwam.

I was determined to return to the "home of the free and the land of the brave," for I felt that the mountains and the prairies of the Great West, although less attended with renown, at least would afford me more of the substantial comforts of life, and suit my peculiar taste better than the service of Uncle Sam in Florida.

The commander of the fort, after reading the dispatch, indorsed on it, "Beckwourth fired on by a party of Indians when near this post." He then returned it to me, and I rode on to Fort Brooke.

Colonel Bryant, having read the dispatch, said, "Ah, Beckwourth, you have been fired on, I see! why did you not tell us so on your arrival?"

I informed him of my reasons, as before stated.

He smiled. "Your word would have been believed by us all," he said; "it is these stupid foreigners that we discredit, who do not know an Indian from a stump; they have deceived us too often for us to put further faith in them."

A Seminole came into the fort a few days subsequent to this, to give himself up, his arm being broken. When questioned about it, he said that a white man had broken it in such a hummock, on such a night. I then knew that my pistols, which I fired at random, had done the mischief.

Alligator, the Seminole Chief, shortly after came in, and informed Colonel Taylor that he and his tribe had concluded to remove to their new home, and requested the colonel to send down wagons to transport their women and children.

"I have fought you a long time," said the Red Man, "but I can not beat you. If I kill ten of your warriors, you send a hundred to replace them; I am now ready to go, and save the rest of my people."

"Yes," the colonel answered, "your talk is good. You can now go to your new home, and be happy. There is a man (pointing to me) who is a great chief of a great nation; you will, for aught I know, be neighbor to his people; he and his people will teach you to hunt the buffalo, and I hope you will be good friends."

While I was with the army a tragedy occurred, which I have never seen in any public print, and I deem it of sufficient interest to make mention of it here. A young private, of very respectable connexions, had been tried for some offense, and sentenced to receive a flogging, which was carried unmercifully into effect. After he had recovered, the surgeon bade him go and report himself fit for duty.

"I will go," said he, "but it will be my last duty."

Accordingly, he fixed his bayonet and repaired to the officers' quarters, where he found the captain and first lieutenant of his company. He advanced upon them, and saying, "You have disgraced me with an inhuman flogging — die!" he shot the captain dead, and plunged his bayonet through the body of the lieutenant, also killing him on the spot.

He straightway gave himself up, was tried by court-martial, and sentenced to be shot. The execution of the sentence was withheld by Colonel Taylor, who had forwarded the particulars of the trial to the department at Washington, and was waiting the result of official investigation. The case was found worthy of executive interference; a pardon was signed by the President and sent on, and the young man was liberated from confinement.

Such inhuman treatment as this poor young soldier received at the hands of his officers has resulted, I have no shadow of doubt, in the death of many an officer on the battle-field.

I remember, at the battle of O-ke-cho-be, a young lieutenant riding up to Colonel Foster, and saying, "Colonel, I have been shot at twice, and not by the enemy either."

"It was by no friend, I will swear," said the colonel; "you can leave the field, and learn to treat your men well in future."

This I witnessed myself; but whether the young "buckskin" profited by the sharp cut of the colonel I am unable to say.

There was a Tennesseean in camp, a great foot-racer, who was incessantly boasting about his wonderful pedestrian powers. He had a valuable horse, which he offered to stake against any person in the camp for a race of sixty yards. As he was considered a "great leg" by all, no one ventured to take up his offer.

I offered myself as a competitor, but all sought to dissuade me. "Don't run against him," said they; "that fellow will outrun Lucifer himself. He has beat every man who has run against him in Florida."

However, I staked a hundred dollars against his horse, and entered the lists. We started together; but, as I did not see my antagonist either ahead of me or by my side, I looked around, and saw him coming-up. I went out a good distance ahead of him, and did not exert myself either.

The enemy having submitted to the government, there was nothing more for us to do, and I asked for a furlough to return to St. Louis. I and my company were enlisted for a year; ten months of this time had been served, and I obtained a furlough for the remaining two months. We embarked for New Orleans, Colonel Gates and his regiment taking passage in the same ship. Arriving at my place of destination in safety, I staid but one night in the "Crescent City," and then took the steamer to St. Louis, where we had a good time while steaming up, and I was very well satisfied to jump ashore once again at my old home. My company all returned but two, one of whom died in New Orleans, the other was killed by the Seminoles after I left.

Chapter 28 Autobiography of James P Beckwourth Moving West 1856

 

 James Pierson Beckwourth (1798-1866)

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 28

Disagreeable Rencounters in St. Louis.óMessenger arrives from Fort Cass.óImminent Peril of the Whites from the Infuriated Crows.óThe Cause.óImmediate Return.óIncidents of my Arrival.óPine Leaf substituted for Eliza.óLast Battle with the Black Feet.óFinal Adieu to the Crows.

IT now comes in the order of relation to describe two or three unpleasant rencounters I had with various parties in St. Louis, growing out of the misunderstanding (already related) between the Crows and Mr. Fitzpatrick's party. I had already heard reports in the mountains detrimental to my character for my supposed action in the matter, but I had never paid much attention to them. Friends had cautioned me that there were large sums of money offered for my life, and that several men had even undertaken to earn the rewards. I could not credit such friendly intimations; still I thought, on the principle that there is never smoke but there is fire, that it would be as well to keep myself a little on my guard.

I had recovered from my sickness, and I spent much of my time about town. My friends repeatedly inquired of me if I had seen Fitzpatrick. Wondering how so much interest could attach to my meeting with that man, I asked one day what reason there was for making the inquiry. My friend answered, "I don't wish you to adduce me as authority; but there are strong threats of taking your life for an alleged robbery of Fitzpatrick by the Crow nation, in which you were deeply concerned."

I saw now what to prepare for, although I still inclined to doubt that any man, possessed of ordinary perceptions, could charge me with an offense of which I was so manifestly innocent. True, I had met Fitzpatrick several times, and, instead of his former cordial salutation, it was with difficulty he addressed a civil word to me.

Shortly after this conversation with my friend I went to the St. Louis Theatre. Between the pieces I had stepped to the saloon to obtain some refreshments, and I saw Fitzpatrick enter, with four other not very respectable citizens. They advanced directly toward me. Fitzpatrick then pointed me out to them, saying, "There's the Crow."

"Then," said the others, "we are Black Feet, and let us have his scalp."

They immediately drew their knives and rushed on me.

I then thought of my friend's salutary counsel to be on my guard, but I had no weapon about me. With the agility of a cat I sprung over the counter, and commenced passing tumblers faster than they had been in the habit of receiving them. I had felled one or two of my assailants, and I saw I was in for a serious disturbance.

A friend (and he is still living in St. Louis, wealthy and influential) stepped behind the bar, and, slapping me on the shoulder, said, "Look out, Beckwourth, you will hurt some of your friends."

I replied that my friends did not appear to be very numerous just then.

"You have friends present," he added; and, passing an enormous bowie-knife into my hand, stepped out again.

Now I was all right, and felt myself a match for the five ruffians. My practice with the battle-axe, in a case where the quickness of thought required a corresponding rapidity of action, then came into play.

I made a sortie from my position on to the open floor, and challenged the five bullies to come on; at the same time (which, in my excited state, was natural enough) calling them by the hardest names.

My mind was fully made up to kill them if they had only come at me; my arm was nervous; and my friends, who knew me at that time, can tell whether I was quick-motioned or not. I had been in situations where I had to ply my battle-axe with rapidity and precision to redeem my own skull. I was still in full possession of my belligerent powers, and I had the feeling of justice to sustain me.

I stood at bay, with my huge bowie-knife drawn, momentarily hesitating whether to give the Crow war-hoop or not, when Sheriff Buzby laid hands on me, and requested me to be quiet. Although boiling with rage, I respected the officer's presence, and the assassins marched off to the body of the theatre. I followed them to the door, and defied them to descend to the street with me; but the sheriff becoming angry, and threatening me with the calaboose, I straightway left the theatre.

I stood upon the steps, and a friend coming up, I borrowed a well-loaded pistol of him, and moved slowly away, thinking that five men would surely never allow themselves to be cowed by one man. Shortly after, I perceived the whole party approaching, and, stepping back on the side-walk in front of a high wall, I waited their coming up. On they came, swaggering along, assuming the appearance of intoxication, and talking with drunken incoherency.

When they had approached near enough to suit me, I ordered them to halt, and cross over to the other side of the street.

"Who are you?" inquired one of them.

"I am he whom you are after, Jim Beckwourth; and if you advance one step farther, I will blow the tops of your heads off."

"You are drunk, ar'n't you?" said one of the party. "No, I am not drunk," I replied; "I never drink any thing to make a dog of me like yourselves."

I stood during this short colloquy in the middle of the side-walk, with my pistol ready cocked in one hand and my huge bowie-knife in the other; one step forward would have been fatal to any one of them.

"Oh, he's drunk," said one; "let's cross over to the other side." And all five actually did pass over, which, if any of them is still living and has any regard for truth, he must admit to this day.

I then proceeded home. My sister had been informed of the rencounter, and on my return home I found her frightened almost to death; for Forsyth (one of the party) had long been the terror of St. Louis, having badly maimed many men, and the information that he was after me led her to the conclusion that I would surely be killed.

A few days after I met two of the party (Forsyth and Kinney), when Forsyth accosted me, "Your name is Beckwourth, I believe?"

I answered, "That is my name."

"I understand that you have been circulating the report that I attempted to assassinate you?"

"I have told that you and your gang have been endeavoring to murder me," I replied, "and I repeat it here."

"I will teach you to repeat such tales about me," he said, fiercely, and drew his knife, which he called his Arkansas tooth-pick, from his pocket.

The knife I had provided myself with against any emergency was too large to carry about me conveniently, so I carried it at my back, having the handle within reach of my finger and thumb. Seeing his motion, I whipped it out in a second.

"Now," said I, "you miserable ruffian, draw your knife and come on! I will not leave a piece of you big enough to choke a dog."

"Come," interposed Kinney, "let us not make blackguards of ourselves; let us be going." And they actually did pass on without drawing a weapon.

I was much pleased that this happened in a public part of the city, and in open day; for the bully, whom it was believed the law could not humble, was visibly cowed, and in the presence of a large concourse of men. I had no more trouble from the party afterward.

In connection with this affair, it is but justice to myself to mention that, when Captain Sublet, Fitzpatrick, and myself happened to meet in the office of Mr. Chouteau, Captain Sublet interrogated Fitzpatrick upon the cause of his hostility toward me, and represented to him at length the open absurdity of his trumping up a charge of robbery of his party in the mountains against me.

Being thus pressed, Fitzpatrick used the following words: "I never believed the truth of the charge myself; but when I am in the company of sundry persons, they try to persuade me into the belief of it, in order to raise trouble. I repeat, it is not my belief at this present moment, and I will not be persuaded into believing it again." Then turning to me, he said, "Beckwourth, I have done you a great injustice by ever harboring such a thought. I acknowledge it freely, and I ask your forgiveness for the same. Let us be as we formerly were, friends, and think no more about it."

Friends we therefore mutually pledged ourselves, and friends we have since remained up to this day. While in town I called on General Ashley, but he happened to be away from home. I was about leaving the house, when a melodious voice invited me in to await the general's return.

"My husband will soon be back," the lady said, "and will be, doubtless, pleased to see you."

I turned, and really thought I was looking on an angel's face. She moved toward me with such grace, and uttered such dulcet and harmonious sounds, that I was riveted to the spot. It was the first time I had seen the lady of General Ashley.

I accepted her invitation, and was shown into a neat little parlor, the lady taking a seat at the window to act as my entertainer until the return of the general.

"If I mistake not," she said "you are a mountaineer?"

I put on all the airs possible, and replied, "Yes, madam, I was with General Ashley when he first went to the mountains."

Her grace and affability so charmed me that I could not fix my ideas upon all the remarks she addressed to me. I was conscious I was not showing myself off to advantage, and she kept me saying "Yes, madam" and "No, madam," without any correct understanding of the appropriateness, until she espied the general approaching.

"Here comes the general," the lady said; "I knew he would not be long away."

Shortly the general entered the lodge, and fixed his eye upon me in an instant, at the same time whipping his pantaloons playfully with his riding-whip.

Rising from a better chair than the whole Crow nation possessed, I said, without ceremony, "How do you do, general?"

"Gracious heavens! is this you, Beckwourth?" and he seized my hand with the grip of a vice, and nearly shook off my scalp, while his lady laughed heartily at the rough salutation of two old mountaineers.

"My dear," said the general, "let me introduce you to Mr. Beckwourth, of whom you have heard me so often make mention. This is the man that saved my life on three different occasions in the Rocky Mountains; had it not been for our visitor, you would not have been Mrs. Ashley at this moment. But you look sickly, James; what is the matter?"

I replied, "I had been confined to my bed since my arrival in St. Louis."

We had a long conversation about the mountains and my residence with the Crow nation. I was very hospitably entertained by my former commander and his amiable lady, and when I left, the promise was extorted from me to make repeated calls upon them so long as I remained in the city.

About the latter end of March a courier arrived from Fort Cass, bringing tidings of a most alarming character. He had come alone through all that vast extent of Indian territory without being molested. It seemed as though a special providence had shielded him.

He found me in the theatre, and gave me a hasty rehearsal of the business. It seems that a party of trappers, who had heard of my departure for St. Louis, having fallen in with a number of Crows, had practiced upon them in regard to me.

"Your great chief is gone to the white nation," said the trapper spokesman.

"Yes, he has gone to see his friend, the great white chief."

"And you will never see him again."

"Yes, he will come back in the season of green grass."

"No, the great white chief has killed him."

"Killed him!"

"Yes."

"What had he done that he should kill him?"

He was angry because he left the whites and came to live with the Indians ó because he fought for them."

It is the greatest wonder in the world that every one of the trapper party did not lose their scalps on the spot. If the Indians had had any prominent leader among them, they infallibly would have been all killed, and have paid the penalty of their mischievous lying. Unfortunately for the Crows, they believe all the words of a white man, thinking that his tongue is always straight. These trappers, by their idle invention, had jeopardized the lives of all the white men in the mountains.

The Indians said no more, but dashed off to the village, and carried the news of my death.

"How do you know that he is dead?" they inquired.

"Because the whites told us so, and their tongues are not forked. The great white chief was angry because he staid with our people, and he killed him."

A council was immediately held to decide upon measures of vengeance. It was determined to proceed to the fort and kill every white man there, and divide all the goods, guns, and ammunition among themselves; then to send out parties in every direction, and make a general massacre of every white man. Innumerable fingers were cut off, and hair without measure, in mourning for me; a costly sacrifice was then made to the Great Spirit, and the nation next set about carrying out their plans of vengeance.

The village moved toward the fort. Many were opposed to being too hasty, but all agreed that their decisions should be acted upon. The night before the village reached the fort, four women ran on in advance of the village to acquaint Mr. Tulleck of the sanguinary intention of the Crows. Every precaution was taken to withstand them ó every gun was loaded. The village arrived, and, contrary to all precedent, the gates of the fort were closed.

The savages were infuriated. The whites had heard of the death of the Medicine Calf, and had closed the gates to prevent the anticipated vengeance. The inmates of the fort were in imminent peril; horror was visible on their countenances. They might hold their position for a while, but an investment by from ten to fifteen thousand savages must reduce it eventually. Tulleck was seated on the fort in great perplexity. Many of the veteran Crow warriors were pacing to and fro outside the inclosure. Yellow Belly was provisional head chief during my absence. Tulleck called him to him.

He rode up and inquired, "What is the matter? Why are your gates shut against us?"

"I had a dream last night," replied Tulleck, and my medicine told me I had to fight my own people to-day." "Yes, your bird told you truth; he did not lie. Your chief has killed the Medicine Calf, and we are going to kill you all."

"But the Medicine Calf is not dead; he will certainly come back again."

"Yes, he is dead. The whites told us so, and they never lie. You need not try to escape by saying he is not dead, for we will not believe your words. You can not escape us; you can neither dig into the ground, nor fly into the air; if you attempt to run, I will put five thousand warriors upon your trail, and follow you to the white chief: even there you shall not escape us. We have loved the whites, but we now hate them, and we are all angry. You have but little meat in the fort, and I know it; when that is gone, you die."

My son, "little Jim," was standing near the fort, and Mr. Tulleck called him to him. The child's answer was, "Away! you smell bloody!"

Mr. Tulleck, however, induced him to approach, and said, "Black Panther, I have always loved your father, and you, and all the warriors. Have I ever told you a lie?"

"No."

"They have told you that your father is dead, but they have lied; he lives, and will come back to you. The white chief has not killed him. My words are true. Do you believe your friend, and the friend of your father?"

"Yes. I love my father; he is a great chief. When he is here, I feel happy ó I feel strong; but if he is dead, I shall never feel happy any more. My mother has cried four suns for him, and tells me I shall see him no more, which makes me cry."

"Your father shall come back, my son, if you will listen to what I now say to you."

"I will listen."

"Go, then, and ask Yellow Belly to grant me time to send for your father to the country of the white men, and if he be not here by the time the cherries shall have turned red, I will then lay down my head, and you may cut it off, and the warriors may kill us all, for we will not fight against them. Go and tell the chief that he must grant what I have told you for your sake, and if he does not listen to you, you will never see your father any more. Go!"

The child accordingly went to Yellow Belly, and begged him to grant one request. The chief, supposing that he was about to request permission to kill a particular man at the fort, said, "Certainly, my son; any request you make shall be granted. Speak! what is it?"

The child then informed Yellow Belly what the Crane had said ó that he would have his father back by the time the cherries turned red, or that he would suffer his head to be cut off, and deliver up his whites to the Crows, and would not fight.

"It shall be so, my son," Yellow Belly assented; "go and tell the Crane to send for your father, for not a warrior shall follow the trail of the white runner, or even look upon it. If he does as he says, the whites shall all live; if he fails, they shall all die. Now go and harangue the people, and tell all the warriors that the Crane is going to send for your father, and the warrior who follows the runner's trail shall die. Yellow Belly has said it."

He mounted a horse, and did as the chief had directed.

Joseph Pappen volunteered to deliver the message to me: it was encountering a fearful hazard. His inducement was a bonus of one thousand dollars.

The morning following the receipt of this intelligence I saw Mr. Chouteau, who was in receipt of a letter from Mr. Tulleck by the same messenger. He was in great uneasiness of mind. There was over one hundred thousand dollars' worth of goods in the fort, and he urged me to start without delay. The distance from St. Louis was estimated at two thousand seven hundred and fifty miles, and the safety of the men rendered the greatest expedition necessary. Any sum I might ask would be willingly paid me.

"Go!" said he; "engage as many men as you wish; purchase all the horses you require: we will pay the bills." He also furnished me with instructions to all the agents on the way to provide me with whatever I inquired for. The price I demanded for my services was five thousand dollars, which was, without scruple, allowed me. I hired two men to accompany me (Pappen being one), to whom I gave fifteen hundred and one thousand dollars respectively.

Our horses being procured, and every necessary supplied us, away we started upon our journey, which occupied us fifty-three days, as the traveling was bad. Our last resting-place was Fort Clarke. Thence we struck directly across through a hostile Indian country, arriving in safety within hailing distance of the fort before the cherries were ripe, although they were very near it.

I rested on a gentle rise of ground to contemplate the mass of people I saw before me. There they lay, in their absorbing devotedness to their absent chief; day and night, for long months, they had staid by that wooden inclosure, watching for my return, or to take fearful vengeance upon their prey. They had loved the whites, but those whites had now killed their chief because he had returned to his own people to fight for his kindred and nation ó the chief who had loved them much, and made them rich and strong. They were now feared by their enemies, and respected by all; their prairies were covered with thousands of horses, and their lodges were full of the wealth derived from the whites. For this the white chief had killed him, and a war of extermination was denounced against them. The fort and its inmates were within their grasp; if the Crane would redeem his pledge and produce their missing chief, all were well; but if the appointed time passed by, and he were not forthcoming, it was fearful to contemplate the vengeance they would inflict.

When I thought of those contemptible wretches, who, merely to wanton with the faith that the artless savages reposed in them, could fabricate a lie, and arouse all this impending danger, I felt that a death at the stake would not transcend their deserts.

I put my horse into speed, and rode in among the Indians. I made the usual salutation on arriving before them, and, riding through their ranks sullenly,

I repeated two or three times, "I am angry!" Every eye was turned on me, but not a warrior stirred; the women seized their children and ran into lodges. The Medicine Calf had arrived, but he was angry.

I advanced to the strong and well-secured gate of the fort, and struck it a heavy blow with my battle-axe. "Halloo, boys!" I shouted; "open your gate, and admit a friend."

"Jim Beckwourth! By heavens, Jim Beckwourth!" was repeated from tongue to tongue. The gates flew open upon their massive hinges, and, as I rode through, I said, "Leave the gates open, boys; there is no longer danger."

I exchanged but a few words with Mr. Tulleck, as I had a difficult business before me. The people I had to mollify were subject to strange caprices, and I had not resolved what policy to adopt toward them.

I went and sat down sullenly, hanging my head so low that my chin rested upon my breast: this was a token of my great displeasure. The braves came round me slowly. My wives all formed themselves in a circular line, and marched round me, each one pausing as she passed to place her hand on the back of my neck.

The brave old Yellow Belly was the first one to speak, and what he said was to the purpose.

"What is the matter with our chief?" he inquired; "who has angered the Medicine Calf?"

"Did I not tell you," I said, "that I left you in charge of the Crane and these other whites during my absence? And what do I behold on my return?"

"Yes, I told you I would take care of the Crane and these other whites while you were gone, and I have done so. My warriors have killed buffalo for them to eat, and our women have brought them wood and water for their use, and they are all alive. Look! Yonder is the Crane; and his white people are all with him ó are they dead?"

"No; but you intended to kill them."

"Yes; but listen: if you had not returned before the cherries turned red, we should have killed them all, and every other white man besides that we could have found in the Am-ma-ha-bas (Rocky Mountains). Now hear what I have to say:

"Suppose I am now going to war, or I am going to die. I come to you and say, 'My friend, I am going to die yonder; I want you to be a kind friend to my children, and protect them after I depart for the land of the Great Spirit.' I go out and die. My wives come to you with their fingers cut off, their hair gone, and the warm blood pouring from their bodies. They are crying mournfully, and your heart pities them. Among the children is a son in whom you behold the image of your friend who is no more. The mother of that child you know to be good and virtuous. You have seen her triumphant entry into the medicine lodge, where you have beheld so many cut to pieces in attempting the same. You say, Here is the virtuous wife of my friend; she is beloved and respected by the whole nation. She asks you to revenge her loss ó the loss that has deprived her of her husband and the child of its father. In such a case, what would you do?' Speak!"

"I should certainly take my warriors," I replied, "and go and avenge your loss."

"That is just what I was going to do for your relatives, friends, and nation. Now punish me if I have done wrong."

I had nothing to say in answer, and my head again fell ó the spell was not yet broken. The Crow Belt, an old and crafty brave, whispered to a young warrior, who rose in silence, and immediately left the fort.

Mrs. Tulleck shortly presented herself, and commenced tantalizing the Crows.

"What are your warriors waiting for, who have been thirsting so many suns to kill the whites? You have been brave for a long while; where is all your bravery now? The gates are set wide open, and only three have joined the few whites whom you thirsted to kill; why don't you begin? What are you afraid of?"

She continued in this aggravating strain, the warriors hearing it all, although they did not appear to notice her. The woman's voice was agreeably relieved by tones uttered outside the gate, which at that moment fell upon my ear, and which I readily recognized as the voice of Pine Leaf. She was haranguing her warriors in an animated manner, and delivering what, in civilized life, would be called her valedictory address.

"Warriors!" she said, " I am now about to make a great sacrifice for my people. For many winters I have been on the war-path with you; I shall tread that path no more; you have now to fight the enemy without me. When I laid down my needle and my beads, and took up the battle-axe and the lance, my arm was weak; but few winters had passed over my head. My brother had been killed by the enemy, and was gone to the hunting-ground of the Great Spirit. I saw him in my dreams. He would beckon for his sister to come to him. It was my heart's desire to go to him, but I wished first to become a warrior, that I might avenge his death upon his foes before I went away.

"I said I would kill one hundred foes before I married any living man. I have more than kept my word, as our great chief and medicine men can tell you. As my arm increased in strength, the enemy learned to fear me. I have accomplished the task I set before me; henceforward I leave the war-paths of my people; I have fought my last battle, and hurled my last lance; I am a warrior no more.

"To-day the Medicine Calf has returned. He has returned angry at the follies of his people, and they fear that he will again leave them. They believe that he loves me, and that my devotion to him will attach him to the nation. I therefore bestow myself upon him; perhaps he will be contented with me, and will leave us no more. Warriors, farewell!"

She then entered the fort, and said, "Sparrowhawks, one who has followed you for many winters is about to leave your war-path forever. When have you seen Bar-chee-am-pe shrink from the charge? You have seen her lance red with the blood of the enemy more than ten times ten. You know what her vow was, and you know she has kept her word. Many of you have tried to make her break her word, which you knew she had passed to the Great Spirit when she lost her brother. But you found that, though a woman, she had the heart of a warrior.

"Do not turn your heads, but listen. You have seen that a woman can keep her word. During the many winters that I have followed you faithfully in the war-path, you have refused to let me into the war-path secret, although you tell it to striplings on their second excursion. It was unfair that I could not know it; that I must be sent away with the women and children, when the secret was made known to those one battle braves. If you had seen fit to tell it to me, it would have been secret until my death. But let it go; I care no farther for it.

"I am about to sacrifice what I have always chosen to preserve ó my liberty. The back of my steed has been my lodge and my home. On his back, armed with my lance and battle-axe, I knew no fear. The medicine chief, when fighting by my side, has displayed a noble courage and a lofty spirit, and he won from my heart, what no other warrior has ever won, the promise to marry him when my vow was fulfilled. He has done much for our people; he has fought their enemies, and spilled his blood for them. When I shall become his wife, I shall be fond and faithful to him. My heart feels pure before the Great Spirit and the sun. When I shall be no more on the war-path, obey the voice of the Medicine Calf, and you will grow stronger and stronger; we shall continue a great and a happy people, and he will leave us no more. I have done."

She then approached me, every eye being intently fixed upon her. She placed her hand under my chin, and lifted my head forcibly up. "Look at me," she said; "I know that your heart is crying for the follies of the people. But let it cry no more. I know you have ridden day and night to keep us from evil. You have made us strong, and your desire is to preserve us strong. Now stay at home with us; you will not be obliged to go to war more than twice in twelve moons. And now, my friend, I am yours after you have so long been seeking me. I believe you love me, for you have often told me you did, and I believe you have not a forked tongue. Our lodge shall be a happy one; and when you depart to the happy hunting-ground, I will be already there to welcome you. This day I become your wife ó Bar-chee-am-pe is a warrior no more."

This relieved me of my melancholy. I shook the braves by the hand all round, and narrated much of my recent adventures to them. When I came to my danger in the A-rick-a-ra country, they were almost boiling with wrath, and asked my permission to go and exterminate them.

Pine Leaf left the fort with my sisters to go and dress for the short marriage ceremony. She had so long worn the war costume that female apparel seemed hardly to become her; she returned so transformed in appearance that the beholder could scarcely recognize her for the same person.

When I visited her lodge in the evening I found her dressed like a queen, with a lodge full of her own and my relatives to witness the nuptials. She was naturally a pensive, deep-thinking girl; her mind seemed absorbed in some other object than worldly matters. It might be that her continual remembrance of her brother's early fall had tinged her mind with melancholy, or it might be constitutional to her; but for an Indian girl she had more of that winning grace, more of those feminine blandishments ó in short, she approached nearer to our ideal of a woman than her savage birth and breed would seem to render possible.

This was my last marriage in the Crow nation. Pine Leaf, the pride and admiration of her people, was no longer the dauntless and victorious warrior, the avenger of the fall of her brother. She retired from the field of her glory, and became the affectionate wife of the Medicine Calf.

The difficulty being now entirely removed, we quitted our encampment, and went on a hunting excursion. We were away but a few days, and then returned to the fort. One morning it was discovered a large drove of horses was missing. A party was dispatched along the trail, which conducted them precisely the same route they took before. I raised a party, and again struck across the Mussel Shell, and, finding I was before the fugitives, I secreted my warriors as before. We had waited but a few moments, when I saw the enemy emerge from the pines, not more than a mile distant. Pine Leaf and my little wife were with me. My new bride, as she saw the enemy approach, lost all recollection of her new character; her eye assumed its former martial fire, and, had she had her former war equipments, beyond all doubt she would have joined in the dash upon the foe.

The pursued, which was a party of Black Feet, were hard pressed by their pursuers in the rear, but very shortly they were harder pushed in the van. When within proper distance, I gave the word Hoo-ki-hi (charge), and every Black Foot instantly perished. So sudden was our attack, they had not time to fire a gun. I struck down one man, and, looking round for another to ride at, I found they were all dead. The pursuers did not arrive in time to participate in the fight. We took thirty-eight scalps, and recovered one thousand horses, with which we returned to the fort. This was my last battle in the Crow nation; the scalp I relieved the Black Foot of was the last I ever took for them. Before my sudden recall from St. Louis I had entered into negotiations which I now felt I would like to complete. I had informed the Crows, after my marriage with Pine Leaf, that I must return to the country of the whites, as they had called me away before I had had time to finish my business. When the boats were ready to go down stream I stepped on board, and proceeded as far as Fort Union. Previous to departing, I informed the Crows that I should be back in four seasons, as I at that time supposed I should. I told them to credit no reports of my death, for they were all false; the whites would never kill me. Pine Leaf inquired if I would certainly come back. I assured her that, if life was preserved to me, I would. I had been married but five weeks when I left, and I have never seen her since.

I was disappointed in my expectation of entering into a satisfactory engagement to the agent of the company, so I kept on to St. Louis. In good truth, I was tired of savage life under any aspect. I knew that, if I remained with them, it would be war and carnage to the end of the chapter, and my mind sickened at the repetition of such scenes. Savage life admits of no repose to the man who desires to retain the character of a great brave; there is no retiring upon your laurels. I could have become a pipe-man, but I did not like to descend to that; and, farther, I could not reconcile myself to a life of inactivity. Pine Leaf and my little wife would have excited their powers of pleasing to procure me happiness; but I felt I was not doing justice to myself to relapse irretrievably into barbarism.

It certainly grieved me to leave a people who reposed so much trust in me, and with whom I had been associated so long; and, indeed, could I have made an engagement with the American Fur Company, as I had hoped to do, I should have redeemed my promise to the Crows, and possibly have finished my days with them. But, being mistaken in my calculations, I was led on to scenes wilder and still more various, yet dignified with the name of greater utility, because associated with the interests of civilization.as led on to scenes wilder and still more various, yet dignified with the name of greater utility, because associated with the interests of civilization.