Chapter VIII: Preface (8)

I did not wait to hear her reply. I said I wanted to be at the crossing before the Benton coach arrived and I put on my hat and walked out. Half a mile further I met two school girls, a big and a bigger one, and they looked as if they were very cold. I said very politely: “Young ladies, I will lend you this shawl; and you can return it to Mr. Steell’s store whenever convenient.”

“Humph!” replied the biggest girl, “I wouldn’t be found dead in the woods with that shawl on.”

“I wouldn’t either,” said I, and I went on. Soon I was at Mr. H.’s house, which is near the road, and as I had an invitation from the hotelkeeper to attend a ball on the 22d, I thought I would call and ask Miss Annie to go to the ball with me. I met the old gentleman at the corner of the house.

“Good evening, Mr. H.,” said I.

“Good evening, Mr. S.,” said he.

“Is Miss Annie at home?”

“Yes, I believe she is, sir.”

“Is she engaged?”

“Is it engaged, ye say, sir? Faith, an’ I can’t tell ye, sir, but she kissed Mr. Maguire last evening as if she had not seen the loikes ov him, an’ it’s engaged I believed they are, sir.”

Just then there was a man going by on the road, and I said that I wanted to speak to him, and I ran through the gate, but I did not want to speak to anyone at that moment.

I came on, and at the bridge I noticed a sign, “Whoop Up.” I could not imagine what it meant. Thinking it was a menagerie, I entered. A man with a bloody nose met me at the door, and another stood in the opposite corner with a black eye, and both were panting as if exhausted.

“Who owns this place,” I asked the man with the bloody nose.

“A man in Fort Benton owns it, but if you want to know who runs it, just wait a few minutes until we have one more round to decide the question.”

But I left in about as much of a hurry as ever. I crossed the bridge, tied my horse to the hitching post back of the store, and went up the street. It was growing dark and I was getting discouraged. Passing a saloon, I heard some loud voices. One man was saying that modern spiritualism was a humbug, while another argued that it was the greatest wonder of the age. At one end of the counter there was cheese, crackers, herring, etc. Seeing all the fellows helping themselves, I came to the conclusion that it was a free lunch. I commenced eating, and kept on until I almost made out my supper, when the barkeeper walked up to me, saying:

“See here, stranger; those eating here are expected to take a drink.”

“I eat for my health; I always take a drink after I eat,” I said.

A while afterwards, as the barkeeper leaned on the counter, I said: “Now I will take a drink.”

“What will you have, sir,” said he.

“Water,” said I.

I saw him reach for something, and as I passed through the door--bang came a chair at my heels. I ran for my horse (a beautiful chestnut, with long mane and tail), but alas! he was not to be found. Where I had hitched mine there was a bob-tailed horse, surrounded by a band of starving cattle. I hurried to the other side of the store, looking for my nag, expecting every minute to see the barkeeper after me with a shotgun. I jumped over two or three poor cows. The second time I came in front of the bob-tailed horse, and, to my surprise, discovered that it was mine. The starving cattle had eaten his tail, and as I came upon my venerable steed they were chewing the saddle, of which nothing was left but the tree and a few buckles. I mounted the remains and left the town.

STRANGER.
Sun River, Mont., Feb. 18, 1880.

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The River Press has been published ever since, and is one of the brightest newspapers in the state; its subscription list is now a thousand fold larger than it was then. Great changes have taken place in the Sun river valley since “Stranger” made that trip. A few have left for other parts; many are still on the old camping ground that was then almost a barren desert, but now highly cultivated and decorated with trees and shrubs as beautiful as many of the eastern homes. The old freighter, the man at the gate, the good mother at the milk ranch and one of the school girls, and my old friend, Mr. H., have left what was then a new settlement, and have crossed the great divide and settled in the “New Jerusalem,” where all good people go and live forever.

ROBERT VAUGHN.
May 20, 1899.

WARREN C. GILLETTE’S EARLY EXPERIENCES IN MONTANA.

“Graig, Montana, April 16, 1900.

“Robert Vaughn, Esq., Great Falls, Montana.

“Dear Sir: Your kind letter asking me to give you some account of what I saw and did in the early days of Montana is at hand. I accede to your request with no little diffidence, but trust it will answer your purpose.

“I was living in New York City in the spring of 1862, when I received a letter from James King of Galena, Illinois, stating that a number of our friends had gone to Salmon river mines, Washington territory, by steamboat from St. Louis to Fort Benton, and thence overland to the diggings. He asked me if I would be willing to join him and go by the next boat, which would leave about the 1st of July. I immediately replied that I would be glad to go, and would meet him in St. Louis in time to make arrangements for the trip.

On my arrival in St. Louis, we proceeded to buy a span of mules, wagon and provisions enough to last us a year. We did not get away until about the 12th of July. Joseph La Barge was the captain until we arrived at St. Joseph, where we met the boat Emile, returning from Fort Benton, where his brother, John La Barge, took his place. We learned from the passengers who came from up the river that mines had been discovered near Cottonwood, which is now called Deer Lodge, in this state, and on account of this news we added to our stock more miners’ supplies. At Sioux City La Barge, Harkness & Co., who owned our boat, the ‘Shreveport’ (and the Emile), had purchased horses to be taken on the boat, to be used in freighting goods to their destination, should they be unable to reach that point by water. These horses were to be loaded at Yankton, that was several miles up the river. Captain La Barge kindly gave me permission to put my mules with them and to help drive the animals from Sioux City to that place.

In making this trip we crossed the Vermillion river, and I was then deeply impressed with its beauty and the great fertility of its valley. At Yankton we put the stock on board the steamer. The man who helped me to drive the horses was a French half-breed by the name of Juneau, a thorough frontiersman. At Fort Pierre we tied up for several hours. Major Vaughn was one of the passengers. He was formerly an Indian agent under President Buchanan, and had with him his Indian wife and child. Her relatives lived in the vicinity of Fort Pierre. It appears that the major had purchased at St. Joseph for his wife an elegant silk gown, brocaded with satin figures. She went on shore for a visit with her relatives, and with them went on a berrying expedition attired in this gown. When she returned this garment was a sight to behold, and the major, using language more forcible than polite, declared that hereafter she should be clad only in the regulation Indian blanket.

“It being rather late in the season of navigation, we made slow progress, with frequent delays on sand bars and frequent stops for wood, at which times passengers readily assisted the roustabouts in gathering and loading; nevertheless, I remember that we enjoyed the trip. A day or two before we reached the mouth of the Yellowstone, we came upon an immense herd of buffalo. They approached the river from our right in one vast army, reaching as far as we could see, and going out on the other side after swimming across. Our boat pressed through this living mass, which quickly closed behind us. The passengers shot down into this huddling herd until the river was red with blood. Three were secured and landed on board by the crew. We had some Indians on board, who, when the buffaloes were being dressed for the boat’s use, procuring the offal, emptied the grass from the first stomach and ate the warm, raw tripe with evident relish.

“Nothing of more than ordinary interest occurred until after we passed Fort Union, near the mouth of the Yellowstone river, for up to this time we had seen only friendly Indians, but now the captain said we were in the Sioux country, and a stricter watch was kept when we tied to the bank at night. One morning, before we had left the bank, we were aroused by the cry of Indians. They were seen in a bend in the river a couple of miles below. The captain had a barricade of boxes made upon the shore and sent a runner up the river to a camp of friendly Indians for assistance. The Sioux made signals by flashing the sunlight from their little mirrors from the opposite cliffs. When the friendly Indians came, they were mounted on slick ponies; the men had on their war paint and war bonnets, and after a harangue from the chiefs dashed off to where the hostile Indians had been seen. It was a fine sight, and looked much like war, but in two or three hours they returned without any scalps, after driving the Sioux into the hills. In recognition of their valor, the captain gave them a great feast, consisting of hard bread, coffee and sugar, with buffalo meat ad libitum.

“We were unable to proceed above this place but a few miles, for the water seemed to lessen every day. Finally the captain gave orders to pull ashore where there was an old stockade fort, and we were put ashore. Here the cargo was discharged and moved to the abandoned stockade. As soon as the captain ascertained that we could proceed no further by water, he dispatched an Indian runner to Fort Benton with an order for teams to help transport the Shreveport’s cargo and passengers. Some of the passengers returned with him, having had enough of upper Missouri life. We met many Mackinaw boats coming down from Fort Benton, carrying from three to five men each. These men had come from the Pacific coast, and they told us of the rich diggings there, and also of the prospecting on the Prickly Pear (now American bar, in Montana), which made us anxious to get along; so, after remaining at the old stockade about a week, we got Mr. Picotte, in whose charge the captain had left the passengers and cargo, to take what teams we had and move on up the river, and not wait for the outfit from Fort Benton. One time after several days’ travel we made a camp near the mouth of Milk river, in a very level country, and nearby there was the largest aggregation of Indian lodges I had ever seen. There were several thousand Indians of different tribes. I remember the names of three only--Crows, Gros Ventres and Assiniboines. I have forgotten what the object of this great council was. Femmisee (Sitting Woman), who was the head chief of the Gros Ventres, was there. He was very friendly to us. Here we had our first actual trouble. Some Indians came into our camp and tried to take our guns away from us and acted in an ugly manner. It appeared that the Indians were divided as to whether we should be permitted to go any further through their country or not. The chief, Femmisee, said that we could go through, but was opposed by the younger Indians. That evening our party took a vote as to whether we should move on next day or turn back. A majority voting to return, in the morning we headed for the old stockade, but after we had gone only a short distance several warriors rode up to our leading team and with drawn guns and arrows strung compelled us to turn again in the direction of Fort Benton.

“Mr. Picotte informed us afterwards that the Indians also had a council, and it had been decided that we were to go through, and that Chief Femmisee, in enforcing his authority, had shot and wounded one of the opposition. Mr. Picotte made many presents to the head men, and from this time on we had no more trouble, though we met many Indians. There were fifteen white men in our party and several half-breeds. We took turns standing guard at night, making two watches--one from dark till midnight, the other from midnight till morning. After several days’ of travel, we met the company’s teams from Fort Benton on their way to the stockade; they were in charge of Robert Lemon. We reached Fort Benton without other important incident and made our headquarters at what was then styled Fort La Barge; an aggregation of log houses situated about three fourths of a mile above the old Fort Benton, which was occupied by the American Fur Company, and about a quarter of a mile above Fort Campbell, whose only occupants were Malcolm Clark and family. A day or two after our arrival we awoke one morning to the sound of alarm, and saw a war party of Indians circling about in the bluffs to the west. At Fort La Barge all was excitement, a cannon was brought and preparations for defense quickly made. This post was unfortified, while Fort Campbell and Fort Benton had walls of adobe with bastions and heavy gates. Clark sent up for someone to come to Fort Campbell to help him to hold the fort, and I was deputized for that duty; I got my gun and marched down. The heavy gate was opened and Mr. Clark welcomed me to his little garrison. The Indians, for most of the day, could be seen among the bluffs, but finally a parley was secured, presents were given and the war was over. Christopher L. Payne, who was one of our party and had some goods to go over the mountains, bought some ponies and broke them to harness and we waited a few days for him, as we wished to go together. During this time we heard that good diggings had been found on the Big Prickly Pear, and we left for that point, following the Capt. J. L. Fisk trail, whose expedition had preceded us about a month. Near the last of October we arrived at where now is located Montana City, or East Helena. Here we found several families who had come through with the Fisk expedition, among whom was E. M. Dunphy. We made arrangements with Dunphy to go to Benton with four wagons with oxen for our goods and bring them to the Prickly Pear camp where we expected to winter. I preceded him on horseback, and, on reaching Fort Benton, learned that no tidings of Lemon’s train had been received. I kept on down the river and fortunately met him below the mouth of the Marias river after one day’s travel from Fort Benton. Mr. Lemon reported that after leaving Milk river he encountered a party of Indians who demanded whisky and were very troublesome, cutting his harness and making threats of murdering the whole outfit. To escape them he took the heroic measure of rolling out a barrel of whisky and setting it on end; he knocked in the head and they were soon all dead drunk. While they were in this condition he pulled out his train, and, pushing on night and day, he saw them no more.

“Dunphy’s wagon being loaded, we started back, leading behind one of the wagons a little black mare. This mare had been purchased of a half breed at the Fort by Mr. Tingley (the father of R. S. and Clark Tingley), and he wanted me to take her to the camp on the Prickly Pear. Reaching Sun river, we found four lodges of Blackfeet. Here was stationed a government farmer who was teaching the Blackfeet Indians how to cultivate the soil. His name was Vail, and he had an interpreter who informed me that the chief of the Blackfeet camp said that the mare which I was leading belonged to his squaw and he wanted me to give her up. I told him it was not my mare; that it had been intrusted to me, and I could not do it. The Indian said that so far as he was concerned he did not care, but that it was a pet of his wife’s; that she was crying and nothing but the mare would console her. I finally settled the matter by his giving me another horse, and I turned over the animal and one plug of tobacco. In the meantime the wagons had gone on and I followed an hour or two later on horseback, leading the new horse. About twelve miles beyond Sun river, as I was riding slowly up a rocky hill, I heard a sound and, looking back, I saw an Indian on horseback within twenty feet of me and he was warning me of some danger; so I hurried on, and overtaking the wagons, I informed the men of the incident, and when we went into camp, which was opposite the Bird Tail mountain, we deemed it wise to place the wagons in a square, and, putting the horses inside, we slept on our guns that night, but had no trouble. The next night we camped on the Dearborn river. The days since leaving Fort Benton had been beautiful, and when we retired to our blankets that evening the weather was mild, but in the morning we awoke to find ourselves covered with a foot of snow and the Dearborn river frozen over. We laid there two days and nights, and on the third day traveled to Wolf Creek, about seventeen miles, when we found that the snow had all disappeared. The next day we passed over the hill in Prickly Pear canyon, where there was the grave of a young man named Lyon, who had accidentally shot himself but a few weeks before. He was buried where he died and a rough headboard gave an account of his death. This point was called then and is still known as Lyon’s Hill. The third day from Wolf Creek at Three-Mile creek, which is three miles south of Silver City, we met Mr. King, accompanied by ‘Gold Tom.’ It appears that the camp on the Prickly Pear had been broken up and nearly all had moved out to go to Gold Creek and Bannock; so Mr. King had come to tell us to keep our wagons moving and to go over the Mullan Pass. About the last of November we rolled into Deer Lodge. Here we stored our goods in one end of a building owned by A. Fall. In the meantime we purchased an unfinished building owned by C. A. Broadwater, who was living there then. It was there I first saw Kohn Kohrs. He had come to Cottonwood to buy some cattle of John Grant to be butchered in Bannock. For want of funds he was unable to buy more than three head, while now his herds are counted by thousands. Also Captain Nick Wall came up from Gold Creek on his way to the states. He had with him Thomas Levatta, a mountaineer whom he had hired as a guide, and was going by the way of Bannock and Salt Lake. Mr. King was induced to join him and I was left to sell our goods and send the dust down the river the coming spring. As trade was dull in Cottonwood, I hired Dunphy to haul my goods to Bannock and put me up a cabin. It took about a week to make the trip, going over the mountains and down the Big Hole river. The weather was clear, but cold, with no snow except upon the divide. We reached Bannock about the twentieth of December. At Bannock I saw a rustling mining camp, with many saloons and gambling houses. Goods commanded astonishing prices.

I here met the Minnesota contingent, some mining, others keeping boarding houses, and all seeming to prosper. It took but a short time to dispose of the major part of the goods at a sound profit in gold dust. Knowing that I could obtain goods at Fort Benton, which I could pack over the mountains, and sell at Bannock at a good profit, I left my place in charge of Warren Whitcher and started about the middle of February, 1863, on horseback, with James Gourley, for Fort Benton. The distance from Bannock to Fort Benton is about three hundred miles, and we made the trip in eight days. Major Dawson was the manager of the American Fur Company at Fort Benton and Matthew Carroll and George Steell were his head men and did the trading. This company had a large herd of horses which were kept up the Missouri river about fifty miles. They bought many of these horses very cheap, for when a man got ready to go down the river it was the company’s price or nothing. I bought fifteen of these horses at from thirty to forty dollars each, and enough of such goods as were in demand in Bannock to load them. A good horse would carry easily two hundred pounds. I hired a cook, for his board and passage, and returned to Bannock without accident. Tobacco, for which I paid $2.50 per pound, sold for $10 and $12. Seven by nine window glass brought one dollar per pane; other articles in proportion. The venture having proved so profitable I was soon on my way back to Fort Benton. Henry Plummer gave me a letter for Miss O’Brien, who was the sister of the wife of I. A. Vail, the government farmer who lived at the crossing of the Sun river, so that when the pack train reached the river my men camped across from his house, and I went over to deliver the letter, and on invitation I remained all night at the farm. In the morning one of my men came over and told me that all of the horses had been stolen, which proved to be true. And Mr. Vail had only one horse left. It was a sore-backed sorrel that had been left in the corral over night, which I bought for thirty dollars, and started for Fort Benton, sixty miles away, to buy more horses in order to move my packs. After traveling twelve miles I left the river and took a trail up the hill, now known as Frozen Hill, and in a little hollow, I took off the saddle and picketed the horse that had been all night without food. I laid down, intending to rest about an hour. As I was very tired I went to sleep. I could not tell how long I had slept when an Indian aroused me, and, as I looked back down the road, I saw quite a large party of Indians coming up the trail. I hurried to my horse, quickly put on the saddle and rode on. The Indians left the trail on the top of the hill and bore off to the northwest to my great relief. I did not get into Benton until after daylight. There they told me that, from my description, the Indians I met were Little Dog, a Blackfoot chief, and his band, and that Little Dog was a friend to the white men. I told Major Dawson my trouble and that I wanted to buy some horses; he gave me a good horse to ride and sent me with “Buffalo Bill,” whose name was William Keyser, to the horse herd. We forded the Missouri river where the city of Great Falls is now located, then went over the hill to where Mr. Paris Gibson’s stock farm is situated, and found the horses there in charge of the herders. After the round up of the band I selected the horses I wanted and drove them up to where my packs were, crossing the Missouri where we forded it the day before. My men had recovered some of the stolen horses that had given out and were abandoned. The Indians who stole the horses were Shoshones or Snakes and had followed me from Bannock. They had killed one man near Square Butte who was employed by Mr. Vail as a hunter, and his widow, a Blackfoot squaw, had cut off one of her fingers as an evidence of sorrow and was bewailing his death in loud cries, sitting with other women on the side of a hill. Taking another start, I got to Fort Benton, bought more goods, and returned to Bannock. While I was in Bannock this time occurred the shooting of Jack Cleveland by Henry Plummer. He was shot in a saloon which was opposite my place. I heard the shots, and going to the door I saw Plummer come out of the place with a pistol in his hand and walk with a friend down the street. I immediately went across to the saloon and saw Cleveland lying on the floor with a bullet hole in his cheek and surrounded by a string of men. He would raise himself on his elbow and mutter some words and then fall back. Some one in the crowd asked him if he had any friends. He said, ‘Old Jack has no friends,’ when one of the crowd replied: ‘Yes, you have; you bet your life.’ He was shortly removed to a butcher shop, which was near by, and he lingered for a day or so and died. Plummer was tried and acquitted, as it was proven that Cleveland had said that ‘Plummer was his meat.’ There were frequent rumors of robberies by road agents, and among trusted friends men would be pointed out as belonging to such organizations, and that Henry Plummer was their leader. James Gourley once informed me that he had good reason to know that I was once followed, when on a trip to Fort Benton to buy goods, by three of Plummer’s band who intended to rob me in the Sun river country, but that they were delayed on account of losing their horses and did not reach that place until I was well on my way to Benton.

“The weather during the whole winter and spring had been wonderfully fine, with only one or two snow storms. On my last trip to Benton that spring I carried considerable dust and some mail; letters coming from the states by the way of Walla Walla often costing from one to two dollars each. When Oliver’s express was started, letters from Salt Lake cost one dollar each and newspapers fifty cents. The gold dust I carried was not all my own. I put the purses (buckskin) in an old carpet bag which was put on top of the pack on the back of one of the pack horses and securely lashed it. We proceeded along without any trouble until one morning at a camp on Willow Creek, near what is now known as Mitchell’s Station, the horse carrying the dust became fractious and tried to buck off his pack. The dust, being so heavy, burst through the lining of the carpet bag and scattered the sacks of gold. After some little search we found all the purses, and, taking care that such an occurrence should not happen again, I finally landed the treasure safely in the American Fur Company’s safe. Owing to the light snows in the mountains the Missouri river was low and the steamer Shreveport, which carried the goods that Mr. King had purchased in the East, did not reach Fort Benton, and had to unload her freight at Cow Island, where she arrived about the last of June, 1863. Captain Nick Wall, of I. I. Roe & Co. of St. Louis, also had merchandise on this boat. Cow Island was inaccessible to wagons on account of the high bluffs without the construction of a road. So after waiting some time for La Barge to get the freight up to Benton we made a contract with Wall to haul his goods to Virginia City in Alder Gulch (a newly discovered mining camp) for thirty cents per pound. We did not get this freight through to its destination until the middle of November, hauling our own goods at the same time. This proved to be a wonderful camp. The times were good. It was only a question of how much you should ask for what you had to sell, for gold dust was plentiful. The next spring, 1864, I opened a new road to go to Fort Benton by the way of the Jefferson river, White Tail Deer, Boulder and Big Prickly Pear. Heretofore wagons had to cross the main divide twice. C. A. Broadwater was the wagon master. I had about twenty-five teams and hired a hunter who kept the train supplied with game, which was principally antelope and deer. It took about a month to make a passable road for freight teams. In the fall of that year, 1864, gold was discovered in Last Chance gulch, and the goods which we shipped the next spring, 1865, were taken to Helena and Last Chance gulch. We put up a store house here, and the coming spring, 1866, we bought of Malcolm Clark and Edward A. Lewis their charter for a toll road through the Little Prickly Pear canyon. This road was finished in time for the travel from Fort Benton that season. Owing to the high price of labor and the rocky character of the canyon this road cost about forty thousand dollars, but as tolls were high also, it took only about two years to get it back. The charter of this road expired in 1875, and it now belongs to Lewis and Clark county. In the summer of 1865 I sold to Mr. Copeland for I. I. Roe & Co. two freight trains of twenty-four wagons each and two hundred head of oxen. That year Copeland had much freight put off near the mouth of Milk river on account of low water. This was the commencement of the Diamond R. Freight Company. Cattle in those days varied much in price. Then ox teams brought freight all the way from Leavenworth, Kan., and St. Joseph, Mo., and the cattle lean, and with tender feet, would be often sold for thirty or forty dollars per yoke. A few months of rest and feeding on the native grasses, and they would treble in value. As far as possible merchants held their dust until the spring of the year and sent it down the river in preference to having it go by stage coach by the way of Salt Lake. I remember (I think it was in 1865) of leaving Helena with $8,000 in dust to take to Fort Benton. I carried it in canteens on the horn of my saddle. When I got to the Dearborn crossing, I found among others camped there for the noon, Malcolm Clark. He was traveling with a light spring wagon and he kindly consented to carry my canteens and lighten my load as the gold alone weighed over forty pounds. He said he wanted to give his horses rest and would not start till late in the afternoon. I saddled up and went on and had gone about eighteen miles when I saw some person ahead coming toward me, driving a packed mule. He was going as fast as possible, whipping the mule continually. When we met I saw it was a man by the name of Coppick, whom I had known in Virginia City. He was much excited and told me that a runner (Joseph Kipp) had come to Sun River in the night, and that he had been sent from Fort Benton to warn all travelers that there had been an uprising of the Indians, and that they had killed ten men on the Marias river and were murdering all the white people they could find. Coppick said he would rather take chances with the road agents than the Indians, and that he would go back to the states by the way of Salt Lake. I tried to persuade him to turn and go on to Sun river with me, that it was only twelve miles away, and as there were several outfits camped there, would stand the Indians off. He said he had on his mule about thirty thousand dollars in dust, and he believed it would be safer to go the other way. I went on to the crossing of Sun river, but kept a sharp lookout for the redskins all the while. I found there quite a large party of freighters who by arranging their wagons, were prepared for any surprise the Indians might make. During the night who should come into camp but Coppick. It appears that Mr. Clark had persuaded him to put his gold into his wagon, and that, as they would travel at night, they could get through safely. We lay at this place all the next day and at night started for Fort Benton, getting there in the morning. We found that the story was true; that Barris, Angevine and eight others, who had been camped at the mouth of the Marias, were waylaid and all killed.

“Up river freights that had been from ten to eighteen cents per pound came down in a few years to three, and wagon freights from Benton to Helena from six cents to one cent. Business conditions changed as gold and greenbacks were approaching an equality in value, and goods purchased in the East were sometimes sold at a loss. I virtually went out of merchandise in 1869.

“When I commenced this narrative I did not think it would be so long, and to draw it to a close, I will skip the years until 1877, in which year I first engaged in sheep raising with Gov. B. F. Potts and D. H. Weston as partners. This was the year of the Nez Perces war, in which Chief Joseph was captured by General Miles in the Bear Paw mountains. We located on the Dearborn river, about three miles above the present bridge, in August, 1877. The following year, as the shearing time approached, I was going up to one of the sheep camps with some supplies tied behind me on the saddle for the herder. When I was about four miles from the home camp I saw two horsemen coming over a hill. At first I thought they were cowboys, but as they came nearer I could see the red blankets; then I knew they were Indians. As they approached one rode opposite me and said, ‘How,’ to which I replied, ‘How.’ The other stopped his horse about forty or fifty feet away and dismounted, coming towards me. I thought maybe he wanted tobacco or matches. The Indian who remained on his horse had his gun across the saddle in front of him, the other had laid his gun down, and as soon as he came to the side of my horse he put his hand under my right foot and I landed on the other side of my horse. I had no coat on, therefore they could see I was not armed. He then took off my saddle, which was a new one, and put it on his horse. As I stood holding my horse by the bridle he came up to me and suddenly grabbed my watch chain with his right hand, jerking the watch from the vest pocket, but the chain hung to its fastening at the buttonhole. As the watch was of great value, being a Jurgensen, and a stop watch for timing horses, and the chain of heavy gold, I would not let it go, so I grasped his wrist with my left hand making him let go and shoved him back. He then drew his gun, a short Henry rifle and threw in a cartridge with the lever and aimed it at me; by that time I had concluded that I did not want the watch, and as I made motions to give it up, he lowered the muzzle of his gun and received the watch and chain. He then mounted his horse and rode away to the south, carrying the watch and chain in his hand. When this Indian drew his gun the one on the horse spoke something quickly which sounded to me as if he had said, ‘Don’t shoot.’ The one that robbed me was a tall and fine-looking man, twenty-five years old, I should judge, his face was painted and he wore brass rings in his hair. The other was older, shorter and not so good looking. I took the old saddle, put it on my horse with the provision that had not been disturbed and went on to the camp. I found that these Indians had been there before me and had taken a gun, some cartridges and food. I learned afterwards that they were a part of Chief Joseph’s band who had escaped from General Miles and had been in the British possessions all winter and were at that time trying to get back across the mountains to their old home. A few days after two of my neighbors were killed on the Dearborn river by this same tribe, Cottle and Wareham. They are buried at the Dearborn Crossing, where Carson also reposes who was previously killed by Indians.

“I had considerable trouble to keep herders in those days, and I then decided that the growing of sheep was a great industry in Montana, only for the Indians.

“WARREN C. GILLETTE.”

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Mr. W. C. Gillette is a native of the State of New York, having been born there in 1832. He has always been an active and useful citizen. He was a member of the Montana Territorial Legislature three terms--once in the council--and was a member of the Constitutional convention in 1889. Mr. Gillette now resides in the Dearborn valley, in Lewis and Clark county, where he owns one of the largest and best stock ranches in Montana. He has a large herd of cattle and several thousand sheep. He is considered to be one of the wealthiest men in the state and one of the most honorable in his dealings with his fellow men.

ROBERT VAUGHN.
May 21, 1900.

A MEAL IN THE INDIAN CAMP.

One of the Diamond R. Company’s men had been down about the falls of the Missouri river looking for some oxen that had strayed away. He came up the valley to my house. He told me that there were six Indian tepees a little ways above the mouth of Sun river and that there were five horses that he thought belonged to me not far from the tepees. He gave a description of them and I could see that they were my horses. I mounted my saddle pony, which I always had at home, and went to the place where the horses had been seen, but I could not find them. I went to the Indian camp (now Sun River Park belonging to the city of Great Falls). A fine old Indian came and met me. I told him that I was looking for horses, describing them and making my brand, the letter V, with my finger in the dust on the ground. He said that he had seen them and that they had galloped away over the hill, at the same time making signs and pointing his hand in the direction the horses had gone. I thanked him; then he asked me to come to his tepee. I went with him, and when we got to the camp he called on a young Indian to come and take my horses to good grass. He took me to his own tepee and brought from his wardrobe a very fine buffalo robe, spread it upon the ground and asked me to sit on the robe. I accepted the invitation. Then he filled his pipe with dried red willow bark (kin-ni-ki-nic) and after lighting and smoking it, long enough to get the pipe going in full blast, he handed it to me. Although I never indulged in smoking a weed of any kind, at this time, to please the old fellow, I passed the pipe around with him half a dozen times, and, of course, I had to take a whiff every time he did; after that I asked to be excused, telling him that my heart was good and that I knew his heart was good also. In the meantime he had told his wife to give me some victuals (much-a-muck). She took about one dozen grains of coffee and put it in a piece of buckskin and pounded it between two stones and made me some coffee; she brought it to me in a tin cup, and also some dried antelope meat. No one could be treated with more respect by an Indian than I was by them. Bringing the best robe, and presenting the pipe of peace, as this Indian did, is one of the most courteous acts an Indian can do for a man. When I told him that I was going to leave and go over the hill to get the horses, he ordered the young Indian to bring my horse. I gave the old fellow fifty cents in silver and he was much pleased, and I am sure I was, for I was treated royally. I found the horses on the other side of the hill where the Indian told me they had gone. This was in the summer of 1873.

ROBERT VAUGHN.
Jan. 21, 1898.

THE FIRST SETTLEMENT OF WHAT IS NOW MONTANA.

No doubt it will be of interest to many, especially us Montanans, to know the history of the first settlement of this state and which was made in the western portion in 1841. Knowing that Hon. Frank H. Woody of Missoula is one of the old pioneers and among the oldest residents of the city of Missoula, I wrote asking him to give me a brief history of western Montana. In reply he sent me a carefully prepared paper written by himself some two years since, giving a very complete early history of that part of this state, also a letter containing valuable information on the same subject and giving me permission to make use of so much of his writings as I desired. No one is better qualified to give such a sketch than Judge Woody, for he has been a resident of what is now Montana for over forty-four years. The following are extracts from Judge Woody’s letters:

“All that portion of the state of Montana bounded on the north by the British possessions, on the east by the main range of the Rocky mountains, on the south and southwest by the Bitter Root mountains, and on the west by the one hundred and sixteenth degree of longitude, at one time constituted a portion of the vast domain of the great Northwest, known as Oregon Territory. When and by what means the government of the United States obtained possession of the great Territory of Oregon are facts not generally known. Oregon was for a great number of years claimed by the United States and Great Britain, and was held in joint occupation by citizens of both nations. Great Britain claimed by the right of discovery, and the United States by the right of discovery and by virtue of the French cession of the Territory of Louisiana of April 3, 1803, and the treaty of limits with Spain of Feb. 22, 1829, and also by right of actual occupation of soil for a great number of years. The ‘Oregon Question’ engrossed the attention of congress and came near resulting in a war between the United States and Great Britain, but the matter was amicably adjusted by the treaty of June 15, 1846, by which the forty-ninth parallel of latitude was established as a boundary line between the two nations, and the United States became the sole and undisputed owner of all that portion of Oregon lying south of that line.

“Oregon was organized as a territory by act of congress, passed in August, 1848, and included within its limits all that portion of Montana lying on the west side of the Rocky mountains.

“By act of congress approved March 2, 1853, the Territory of Oregon was divided, and this portion of it became a part of Washington Territory. The first legislature of Washington Territory created the county of Clarke, named in honor of Captain Clarke, of the Lewis and Clarke expedition. Clarke county extended from a point on the Columbia river, below Fort Vancouver, to the summit of the Rocky mountains, a distance of some six hundred miles. This portion of the present State of Montana was then a portion of Clarke county, and was then for the first time included within the limits of a county.

“Clarke county was afterwards divided, and the county of Skamania created, and we became a portion of the last named county. The legislature then divided Skamania and created Walla Walla county, and then we became a portion of Walla Walla county, with our county seat located on the land claim of Lloyd Brooks, on the Walla Walla river, in the present State of Washington. Walla Walla county was afterwards divided and we became a part of Spokane county, with the county seat located at Fort Colville. We remained a part of Spokane county until December 14, 1860, when the legislature of Washington Territory divided the county of Spokane and created the county of Missoula, with the county seat at or near the trading post of Worden & Co., Hell’s Gate Ronde.

“The county of Missoula, as first established, embraced all those portions of the present counties of Missoula and Deer Lodge, lying on the west side of the main range of the Rocky mountains. Missoula county remained a portion of Washington Territory until Idaho Territory was organized on the 3d of March, 1863, when it became a portion of that territory.

“The first legislature of Idaho created Missoula county, and located the county seat at Wordensville. On the 26th day of May, 1864, congress created Montana Territory, and the first legislature, which met at Bannock, created, on the 2d day of February, 1865, the county of Missoula, and located the county seat at Hell’s Gate. From the foregoing it will be seen that Missoula county has at different times comprised a portion of four territories and five counties.

“Probably the first white men who visited this portion of Montana were Lewis and Clarke, who, with their party, sometime during the summer of 1805, entered the Bitter Root valley from the south, through a pass known at the present time as the Big Hole mountain, a small valley near the head of Bitter Root river, where the party of Lewis and Clarke first met and gave the name of Flatheads to the tribe of Indians now known by that name.

“A number of years since the writer was well acquainted with Moise, the second chief of the Flatheads, who was a boy at the time Lewis and Clarke passed through the Bitter Root valley and well remembered the event and many circumstances connected therewith, the party being the first white men ever seen by these Indians. Moise was a warm and devoted friend of the whites from the time of his first meeting with them up to the time of his death, which occurred about 1887.

“Western Montana has been occupied from time immemorial by three different tribes of Indians, to-wit: The Salish--called by Lewis and Clarke the Flatheads, and by which name they are generally known--the Kelespelmns, now exclusively known by the French name of Pend d’Oreilles, and the Kootenais. These tribes speak dialects slightly different, and most probably constituted at a remote date one tribe or nation. They have a tradition that they came from the far north, but this tradition is exceedingly vague and indefinite.

“From the time of Lewis and Clarke’s expedition up to about the year 1835 to 1836, we have no definite knowledge of what transpired in this portion of Montana. At a very early date a number of Canadian voyagers and Iroquois Indians from Canada visited this country, and sometime between 1820 and 1835 the employes of the Hudson’s Bay company visited it for the purpose of trading with the Indians and extending the power of dominion of that gigantic company, but these early adventurers left us no available data from which to write their travels and adventures.

“About the year 1835 to 1836 the Flathead Indians, who inhabited the Bitter Root valley, had gathered some little knowledge of the Christian religion from the Canadian voyagers and Iroquois Indians, who visited the country for the purpose of trapping and trading for furs. The Flatheads were anxious to gain further knowledge and sent to St. Louis, Missouri, for a priest, or as they called him a ‘Black Gown.’ Three different parties of Indians were sent in as many different years. Of the first party sent but little that is definite is known, except that none reached St. Louis. The second party, on their downward trip, were all killed by Indians--probably Blackfeet--near Fort Hall. The third party started in the spring of 1839, and in the summer of that year two of the party reached St. Louis. Of the two who successfully accomplished the journey, one was named Ignace Iroquois and he died at or near the St. Ignatius Mission, in Missoula county, sometime during the winter of 1875-76. The other was the father of a Flathead named Francoise Saxa of Bitter Root valley. The superior of the Jesuit establishment at St. Louis promised to send them a priest in the following spring. Ignace remained in St. Louis all winter and came up with the father in the spring. The other Indian came back the same fall to tell the news. In the spring of 1840 Father De Smet and Ignace came across the plains and found a camp of Flatheads and Nez Perces near the Three Tetons, near the eastern line of the present state of Idaho. The father baptized a few Indians and came with the Flatheads to the Gallatin valley, near the place where Gallatin City now stands, and, finding that he could do little without aid, returned to St. Louis for assistance. In the spring of 1841 Father De Smet returned, coming by the way of Fort Hall. He brought with him two other fathers--Point and Mengarine--and several lay brothers, among whom were Brothers W. Classens and Joseph Specht, who are eminently entitled to the appellation of ‘oldest inhabitants,’ having been residents here for more than a third of a century. The party brought with them wagons and carts, horses, mules and oxen, and came by the way of the Deer Lodge valley and down the Hell’s Gate canyon. These were the first wagons and oxen brought to Montana. In the fall of that year the first settlement was made in the Bitter Root valley by the establishment of St. Mary’s mission on the tract of land upon which Fort Owen is now situated. During the fall and winter of the same year dwelling houses, shops and a chapel were built, and nearly all the Flatheads and some Nez Perces and Pend d’Oreilles were baptized.

“Probably the first farming attempted in our state was in the spring of 1842, by the fathers at the mission. This year they raised their first crop of wheat and potatoes. The same year the first cows were brought from the Hudson Bay company’s post at Fort Colville on the Columbia river. About this time or a little later the fathers also erected a saw and grist mills--the burrs for the latter being brought from Belgium.”

Those same mill stones, which are fifteen inches in diameter, with other relics of this early settlement, are now in the archives of the museum at St. Ignatius mission.