In the tumult of this unequal combat young Caspar was seen surrounded by savages. His spirited steed, seemingly conscious of defeat and panic-stricken by the hideous din of Indian yells and war-whoops, became unmanageable, both horse and rider fell fighting, precisely where the gravestone stands. The greater number of his men were already slaughtered. The bridge held by the infantry afforded retreat for a few men. And thus ran the story into many other details.

The day after the fight a detachment of cavalry crossed the bridge and recovered the body of the brave hero. An effort was made by the Indians to cut off these riders, but our men succeeded in reaching the guarded bridge. The next day the beleagured garrison saw the little train, the arrival of which was antic.i.p.ated, coming over a distant hill from the west. Suddenly and within full view of the fort, Red Cloud and about five hundred warriors made a dash upon them. Three of the soldiers escaped by swimming the river but the remaining men fought bravely until the last man fell. A messenger had previously been dispatched from the fort to General Connor to send a.s.sistance at once. Several companies of the 6th Michigan cavalry responded, making forced marches. The Indians had withdrawn before the arrival of these reinforcements. The bitter war continued, however, until the winter set in, when, through the vacillating policy of the War Department, General Connor was withdrawn from Wyoming.

Before we separated from the officers at the post they advised us that it would be imprudent for us to leave Caspar except with a strong party.

The regular order was still in force providing for the minimum number of armed men that would be permitted to go out from a post. Accordingly we settled down in our camp and remained four days, awaiting the arrival of reinforcements. There were very few travelers on that road.

During our sojourn in that valley the experience of one particular night led us to comprehend at least one of the reasons why the Indians so earnestly desired to retain undisturbed possession of this territory.

Their wealth was the wild game, but the only means by which we could learn the extent of this wealth was for each wild beast living along that range to come out from its lair and speak so as to be easily heard and counted. An opportunity for an approximate enumeration was offered by a festive gathering of those wild inhabitants of the hills. It occurred on the second night at Caspar. Paul had been standing guard until midnight. At about that hour he quietly awakened me and asked me to come outside the tent. Taking my rifle, which as usual was lying at my side, I stepped out into the bright moonlight. "I wished you to hear this wonderful concert," said Paul in explanation. My ears instantly caught the mult.i.tude of wild, weird sounds that came from far and near and from every point of the compa.s.s. Although those voices were legion, yet, since the greater number of them came from miles away, they were so softened by distance that they did not jar upon the ear. It was a wonderfully still, calm night; hardly a zephyr stirred the air; and distance both to the eye and ear seemed to be eliminated. The moon shone from the cloudless Wyoming sky with extraordinary brilliancy and apparent nearness. The outlines of the well-wooded Caspar range were sharply defined against the blue expanse beyond. Their dark shadows by contrast emphasized the undulations of the intervening valley and the glittering waters of the river that flowed through it, all of which were flooded by the soft, resplendent moonlight. Was it that big, bright moon that had brought out the myriad denizens of the hills to howl their wild refrains?

Paul and I stood for a time spellbound as this vision, seemingly unreal, came to our eyes. To our ears a chorus of unblended sounds came down from the mountain from points far removed one from another, as if here and there a concourse of wild beasts had by prearrangement a.s.sembled in various places to engage in a nocturnal carousal. Every creature native to the hills, that had a voice, seemed to take some part in the orgies; and though dissonant, yet those wild voices of the night were in harmony with the rugged setting of the gorges from which they came, and were wonderfully fascinating. The mountain lions entered into the convivialities with tremendous earnestness. Their vicious screams at times were intense and fierce as if the animals were in deadly strife, but when their fervent notes softened down to a low, attenuated, sympathetic purring we recognized in them a marked similarity to the midnight duets of their congener, the domestic cat. It was not the mountains alone that furnished the stage for this midnight serenade to the moon. From other quarters came other yelpings and roars and growls impossible to cla.s.sify. The wolves in the valley near-by howled ceaseless responses in this remarkable antiphonal chorus. Coyotes without number joined in the _Saturnalia_ of nocturnal revelry, and barked incessantly from every direction; while the bloodhounds at the distant fort bayed deep-toned warning of their guardianship. Even the bull frogs from the pool near the river bank, serene in their watery home, peacefully croaked in plaintive monotone. These numberless, inarticulate voices, so varied in quality, were evidence that along that range there was a remarkable abundance of wild animal life, which in the daytime lurked unseen in unfrequented places; but these sounds did not reveal the presence of the hosts of antelope, elk, deer, and other timid animals with which the country also abounded.

The situation was so interesting and fascinating that I finally aroused Ben and Fred, and together we wandered down toward the river and up its bank, listening to the concert as we proceeded. Observing upon a little bluff a man's form with a rifle upon his shoulder silhouetted against the clear sky beyond we called "h.e.l.lo" as a friendly announcement, a.s.suming that he also was on guard. He responded with a similar salutation and invited us to come up. He proved to be the father of the young ladies with whom we had returned from the "cut off," who had now camped with his party some distance beyond. We will refer to him as Mr.

Warne, a name similar to his true name. We asked him if he was standing guard. "Yes," he replied, "it is a beautiful night, and as we cannot travel tomorrow I decided to give one of our men a rest. The girls are down below on the rocks. I brought them out to hear the music from the hills. They are sitting there wrapped in blankets." Sure enough, there they were, quite out of sight. As we approached, one of the young ladies lifted a rifle into view and with a laugh demanded the pa.s.s word. Fred responded immediately, "Peach pie," for he was addressing the young lady who had sent the pie with her compliments when we were on the Montana road. The pa.s.s word was accepted as satisfactory. The girls remarked that they were not out ordinarily at that unseemly hour, but they had been invited by their father to listen to the animals. As each fresh squall came from the mountain lions over the river, a subdued exclamation of some sort, generally bordering on both admiration and apprehension, came from their lips. While there, our attention was attracted by two or three long-legged wolves that skulked near-by within easy rifle range--but a shot at that hour would bring out the camp, and wolf meat was not a desirable diet. Not wishing to protract our midnight call we said "Good-morning" and sauntered back toward our tents, being confident with regard to the concert, that we had listened to the star artists from over the river.

During the following day no travelers arrived to make up the regulation number and enable us to proceed. On the following night, there being some change in the weather, Ben, Fred, and I occupied one mattress in Ben's tent, and all were soon asleep. Some time in the night I became half conscious of two or three claps of thunder and the roaring of a terrific fall of rain upon the roof of the tent, which came in as a mist through the canvas. Lying near the edge of the mattress upon which we had for that night crowded ourselves, I accidentally put my hand outside the blanket and into a running stream of water which was flowing into the tent. Conscious that trouble was ahead of us I took up my rifle, which had been lying at my side, and stepped out and into the water, to find that the tent was being rapidly flooded. I spoke to the Deacon through the darkness. He promptly responded and informed me that he had just discovered the flood and was rolling his mattress into a bundle upon a small box. "Boys, wake up!" we shouted, for Ben and Fred were as yet wholly unconscious of the impending deluge. "What do you want?" said Ben sleepily, but before I had time to explain he shouted, "I'm all afloat, get out of here, Fred, quick!" Fred responded with alacrity, for the water was rising and had begun to come through the mattress. We soon found ourselves camped in a newly-formed pond. Our previous experience had taught us that tents should not be pitched in a depression, but the ground was so dry when we camped and the sky had been cloudless for so long a time, that we were careless. The lesson now was better learned.

We protected our rifles and other valuable articles as thoroughly as possible and waded out from the pond, through the rain, to our wagons to await the coming of the morning. The sun rose in a fairly clear sky, although showers seemed to be lingering up in the mountains. On the following day Pete negotiated with the post sutler for some supplies, on the basis of 15 cents per pound for corn and 40 cents for bacon, which were regarded as reasonable prices. The day, however, was devoted chiefly to drying out blankets and clothing and to long trips in search of fuel, which in the valley was exceedingly scarce. A call at the Warne camp resulted in the information that the campers there had suffered but little from the severe storm, as their tents were on higher ground, although they reported the pelting of the rain as being terrific and having a sound like hail. Toward noon of the fourth day Kreighton's freight train of forty wagons with mules arrived from the east, having succeeded after great hardships in crossing the Platte. After noon we all joined the caravan and threaded our way westward along very rough roads up and down many steep hills until we reached the vicinity of Red b.u.t.tes, eleven miles beyond Fort Caspar, where we camped for the night.

We had bid goodbye to our interesting Caspar Camp ground and to the Platte River, which for 500 miles had been almost constantly near us.

For this stream every traveler on these plains must be thankful, stretching as it does through arid wastes. Without it we should have found it difficult to exist. Since that day the tributaries of the turbulent Platte have been diverted to irrigation purposes, leaving it at times little else than an extinct river.

After supper Ben, Fred and I strolled out on foot for a closer inspection of the Red b.u.t.tes, which are so named because of their deep red coloring. They are similar in character to those in the Garden of the G.o.ds in Colorado, though more extensive. The summits like those of many of the bluffs in the clay lands, are level and apparently dest.i.tute of vegetation. The sides are nearly perpendicular, and as they offered no temptation for a climb, we turned our footsteps toward the camp. The sun had just sunk below the horizon, and a big, bright moon was already on duty, to give promise of a glorious night. Overtaking a grizzled old man who had evidently been traveling in the protection of the big train, we accosted him, as was the free and easy custom in the West. He answered us cheerily and congratulated us on having finally fallen in with the train, as he was confident that no other outfit would soon be moving westward over that road.

"Are you a freighter?" we asked.

"No," he replied, "and yet I may say that I have done considerable traveling through this country with trains that carried freight. I have a ranch west of here."

"Have you had much trouble with the Indians?" we naturally asked.

"They have been keeping us pretty busy the last two years. Did you hear about Hugh Kuykendall's train?" he continued. "Yes," was the reply, "we separated from it on Friday, the 13th of this month. Is there anything new concerning it?"

"Yes," he replied, "it was attacked by the Sioux, and at last reports the train was surrounded by about seven hundred Indians, and the men were trying to hold them off and will put up a stiff fight. A herder who was on the outside rode in and reported the situation at Horse Shoe Creek, and a few troops were sent forward to a.s.sist, and that is the latest. Remember, boys, that you are in the Indian country, and you should keep pretty close to your base."

"Have you been in this country long?" we asked.

"Yes, several years. As a boy I was with Descoteaux, the trapper, who in 1842 was with Colonel John C. Fremont and with him made the ascent of Fremont Peak."

Pursuing this line of conversation as we were approaching our camp we asked the trapper's name. "I am known as Tom Soon, but the two words together sound so like Thompson that I am often known by that name." On reaching the camp we presented Tom to the Warnes.

CHAPTER XVIII

A NIGHT AT RED b.u.t.tES

It was a clear and beautiful moonlit night. The towering cliffs of Red b.u.t.tes cast their shadows to the westward, but in every other direction not a tree nor shrub large enough to shade a Jack rabbit was visible.

Mr. Warne had received the old trapper very cordially, and in a few moments they were sitting side by side upon a portable wagon seat placed upon the ground and were engaged in conversation, while the young ladies half reclined near them upon some bundles and blankets. There being an innate propensity in persons with active social instincts to enliven the embers of a languishing fire when friends gather round it, Ben and Fred piled wild sage brush upon the glowing coals, and soon the cheerful flames blazed welcome to all the boys (except Paul, who was on guard) and lighted up the faces of the campers as they drew nigh to the circle.

The old deacon was called from his tent, for though dignified and circ.u.mspect, as all good deacons are supposed to be, he was not averse to a.s.sociation with younger, and more convivial companions. A post of honor was a.s.signed him upon an empty soap box, near the host.

Big Pete was there, and after approaching the radiance sidewise with one arm before his face to shield it from the fierce glow of the fire, with the other hand he pulled from the burning heap a long twig, the end of which was a live coal; and drawing back to a safe position solemnly lighted his pipe; then slowly doubling himself together like a jack-knife, he sank to a soft and safe anchorage upon a bag of horse feed. Dan and his boon companion, Noah, floated in later and gradually adjusted themselves to the uneven surface of the least rugged boulders that were near at hand. Dan had traveled rather extensively for those days, and had made a trip to Pike's Peak in search of gold; in fact he was something of an adventurer, a good scholar, and a man well informed on general topics. His father had been a physician and was an early Wisconsin pioneer.

"What do you think of the situation out here, Mr. Soon?" said Dan to the old trapper.

"I believe that there is trouble ahead," was the reply. "The Government agents have not been square with the Indians and the Indians know it.

The Indians will do as they agree until the whites go back on their promises, or do mean things to them; and they have done it. Why, there is that Captain of Russell and Major's train who brags that he has killed more than a hundred Indians, and that he will shoot an Indian at sight every good chance he gets, and now comes this treaty at Laramie that every one knows is a fraud. These Indians up here are dead sure to fight for their hunting grounds."

"I think Mr. Soon is right," said Dan. "We have been talking nearly every day about these Indian troubles, and people forget that an Indian has a sense of honor and will stand by an agreement as faithfully as the average white man will. There are some qualities in Indian character not generally understood, which are as interesting as their savagery and show how they regard a contract."

Dan then pointed to a young fellow who was stretched out upon the ground near the fire and said, "Now the parents of that chap there and my parents were close neighbors in Wisconsin 'way back in the thirties.

Being older than he is, I remember an incident which all the few who were there were familiar with. These pioneers all lived in log cabins.

This young fellow's father, on one occasion, was endeavoring to conduct some negotiations with a band of Winnebago Indians, who were a.s.sembled in front of his cabin. The settlers had learned a few words used by that tribe, but not enough to enable them to converse intelligently, and so the bargain was not concluded. In a thoughtless moment, and with a view to amuse his young wife, who stood near the open door, he addressed the Chief, and directing his attention to his own spouse, asked if he would swap squaws. The proposition was received with an approving nod and a significant grunt, which was regarded by the father as proof that the Winnebago chief comprehended the humorous point of the proposition, and understood that the white man's talk often means the opposite from what his words imply. The Indians departed and all went well until the following day, when the young wife, casting a glance from the door, observed the chief approaching with his band. At his side was his squaw.

It required but a moment for the mother to comprehend the situation. The father was not at home, but she instantly slammed the door, pulled in the latch string (used then in all our doors) and seizing that young fellow, then only two or three months old, slid out of a back window and struck across the country for the cabin of a neighbor. When the father came home, the house was vacant and no wife was in hearing to answer to his many shouts. After a while he rounded up his wife at the neighbor's house where she was hiding. The father, on learning what had occurred, said he didn't propose to joke any more with the Indians."

"I know all about that affair," continued Dan, "and it shows that when an Indian makes a trade, whether it is of wives or the occupation of lands, he expects to carry it out, and if the other fellows don't do it, of course it's the beginning of trouble and the end of confidence. They know nothing about d.i.c.kering and double-meaning phrases."

We soon gave the old trapper an opportunity to relate some incidents in his life in the West, which had been full of interesting experiences. He told of the important part the fur traders and trappers had played in Wyoming and the far West; of their exposures and perils, and how they had been the earliest explorers, giving names to the streams and many of the mountains. "But," he added, "this frontier life has not all consisted of Indian fighting and hunting," and with this statement he knocked the ashes from his pipe upon the heel of his boot, and from a huge pouch of tobacco, slowly refilled it as if to give time for his suggestions to find a response. It was evident that something was coming into his mind that he was about ready to impart. Miss Margaret immediately said that she was glad to hear of something in western life besides fighting, and that with such glorious nights as she had seen in Wyoming, she believed that now and then something should occur that is not mixed up with bloodshed.

"Well, Miss," said Tom, after taking a long pull from his pipe, "your friend has told you about Indian agreements, and the trading of wives.

I'll tell you one story that I know all about. Among the old trappers and traders of early days, there were many young Frenchmen. I think they made more money out of the business than all the rest of the traders put together. There was one fine young fellow, whose name was Jules La Chance. He was working for the old American Fur Company for quite a while up north of here in the country of the Crow Indians. Now the Crows had 'most always been on pretty good terms with us fellows, and in fact with all the whites, but they were always in trouble with the Sioux. The Crow women were more attractive than the women of most of the other tribes. They knew how to tan skins very finely, so that they would be very soft and white, and the Crow girls were able to dress themselves very attractively. The hair of all the Crow Indians was long, and the women parted it carefully. Many of the trappers and traders had been married to Indian girls, and Jules finally ran across the daughter of one of the Crow chiefs whose name was Oo-je-an-a-he-ah, who he believed would suit him pretty well as a wife. He could speak Crow a little, as well as Sioux, so he told her that he liked her pretty well, whereupon she said that she liked him pretty well, and that was about all that happened that day--but it meant very much to an Indian girl.

"The next day Jules started off eastward on some work that he had to do in the Sioux territory, where some of the trappers and traders of his Company were engaged. The Indians there, however, at that time were making considerable trouble for the four or five white men. One of the traders concluding that a little whiskey, of which the Indians are fond, would help to soften the feeling between them, gave a few warriors who had come into their camp as much of the stuff as they wanted for present use. In a short time they had become pretty full and very noisy, but finally quieted down. It was well into the night when Jules, who sat near the door of the lodge, felt a touch upon his shoulder. Quickly turning his head he observed a Sioux girl fifteen or sixteen years of age, whom he had previously seen in the near-by Indian village, and who had heard him speak in her native tongue. She now beckoned him to come to her, and informed him that the Sioux had already planned to take their property and possibly their lives; that she had come directly from near a lodge in the village where she had overheard some warriors discussing the plans, which also involved a raid into the country of the Crows where the trappers had their headquarters. She said the ponies belonging to Jules and his party had already been taken, and asked Jules to follow her. All this was condensed in a few whispered words. Jules re-entered their camp where the Indians were quietly resting. One or two of them, who were apparently somewhat conscious of what was happening, were again permitted free access to the whiskey. Jules, quietly and un.o.bservedly, slipped some guns to the outside from under the tent, and soon was able to signal his companions to meet him outside. He handed them their guns, and then whispered to them to follow him and not speak.

"He found the girl standing erect in the darkness exactly where he had left her. Taking Jules by the hand, she led him with swift footsteps toward the river which, running northward, empties itself into the great Missouri. The entire party followed silently. Not a word was spoken until the river bank was reached. Then, to the surprise of all, the girl addressed them in very fair English, and told them that her father when living was a fur trader with M. G. Sublette of the Rocky Mountain Fur Company and her mother was a daughter of a Chief of the Minnecongoux band of Sioux. She said that her father had always been friendly with the Sioux, but was killed in a raid of that tribe by an accidental shot.

"'You have no horses now,' she said, 'as they have already been taken by my people, but here is a boat that will carry you down the stream nearer to your home camp, and I wish you to escape quickly, and I hope when the trouble is over to see you again.'

"One of the traders ventured to strike a light that they might get a better glimpse of their benefactress, and more than one of them recognized the dress and features of the Indian girl as one who had attracted their attention on the preceding day in the village. The Indian tastes of the girl had found expression in an abundance of beads and a fine deerskin dress, but the long black hair hung in two braids at her back. Her complexion was rather fair, and the mouth was more delicately formed than is usual with the full-blooded Indians. Her name in the tribe, she said was Oo-jan-ge (Light).

"There was no time to be lost. Jules had upon his little finger a plain gold ring, which he removed and slipped upon a finger of the Indian girl, saying to her, 'Keep that to remember me, but take care of yourself and don't get into trouble for what you have done.' The girl at once started on a swift pace toward the village, and was soon lost from sight in the darkness.

"The situation was simple. Their horses had been captured since the sun had set and the girl had surely shown Jules' party the way of escape, for here was a boat quite like a large tub made of skins and lying on the sh.o.r.e. It was sufficiently large to float them. There were also rude paddles, which were all that was necessary to steer the craft down the stream. The men were soon afloat, and when the morning dawned they were more than thirty miles farther down stream. They pulled upon the western bank at a point which had been previously visited by two of the party. There they succeeded in killing an antelope, parts of which they managed to cook without any regular cooking utensils.

"The first thought calling for action, that had arisen in the mind of Jules, was to proceed at once to the head Chief of the Crows and convey to him information concerning the impending raid of the Sioux. By the morning of the following day the trappers were at the Crow village.

To whom could Jules more properly convey the tidings than to Oo-je-an-a-he-ah, to whom he frankly told the story of his recent adventure? In less than an hour several hundred Crow Indians in detached bodies were skulking to the eastward and surely enough on the following morning met the advancing Sioux who, being completely surprised, met with disastrous defeat, the survivors falling back across the river after heavy loss.

"The Crows returned to camp with numerous scalps, but none of the warriors except the Chief knew from what source came the information that led to the victory. Jules, however, was at once a hero in the lodge of the Chief. A dog dinner was served for him, which was regarded as the n.o.blest banquet that could be set before an honored guest.

Oo-je-an-a-he-ah was gratified that one upon whom she looked as her _fiance_ should be in such high favor with her distinguished father.

"Jules went to his camp some miles distant, toward the border lands, and reflected on what had occurred. He well knew that his life and that of his companions, and possibly all their property, had been saved through the self-sacrifice of a young Indian girl, the granddaughter of a Chief.

The morning came and it happened that one Paul Des Jardines, who, with a small escort was crossing from the Missouri River westward, observed a solitary Indian girl standing near their pathway. She was slender and had delicate features, with complexion not so dark as is common with most of the tribes, and decidedly like that of the Mandan tribe.

Attracted by the strange appearance, Paul addressed the girl in broken French with the question 'Are you a Sioux?' To the surprise of his party she replied, also in broken French, in the affirmative. With careful diplomacy she sought to ascertain if those rough voyagers were really friendly and trustworthy. Becoming satisfied that it would be safe to tell her story, she related how, through her effort to save some white traders, who were camped near the village, her father's band had met with a serious reverse, and she was suspected by her people of disloyalty, which was the cause of a disaster to the Sioux. She now felt compelled to flee for her own safety.

"'Do you know who the men were that you were trying to save?'

"'No,' she replied, 'except that one of them was named Jules.' And in an innocent manner she added, 'He gave me this ring. If I could find him I know he would protect me until I could make peace with my tribe, for he knows that my father was a French trader.

"'I, too, am French,' said Paul, 'and we will take you to where Jules is in the Crow country. I know him, as we came up the Missouri from St.

Louis the same time.' So Oo-jan-ge, who was hungry and weary, received food and a pony to ride, and started with Paul's party to the land of the Crows, the enemy of her own people.