"I don't propose goin' anywhare. I only want to git outen this country.

She's a holy terror an' I stood it jest as long as I could. All thets left of my farm is on this ere boat an' I don't reckon its goin' to cost me much trouble to take care of it an' locate anywhare outside of this country. This ere cantankerous river has done me up, done me up brown, straanger."

"It is a curious sort of river."

"Cur'ous! Wall, I should snicker, Cur'ous ain't no name for it. I think G.o.d Almighty built her all right enough, but I don't think He's made up His mind whar to locate her yit. She's running wild, straanger; she's runnin' wild."

He leaned back against a worn mattress with a melancholy sigh and his boat dropped astern.

The next day was dark and gloomy and Paul felt an unaccountable falling of spirits. The atmosphere was oppressive and he could not overcome a premonition of evil that effected him all day. About the middle of the afternoon, he was startled by a peculiar noise above him. Black, heavy clouds hung low on the prairie lands. An ominous roar caused him to look up stream and he beheld a funnel shaped cloud driving to the eastward across the river. In less than half an hour, another one bore down from the b.u.t.tes and swept across with a terrible roar, about one mile below.

While congratulating himself on having been sandwiched between these fearful whirlwinds and thus escaping them, he was horrified to see another bearing directly on him from the west. He made all possible speed to reach the willows on the windward sh.o.r.e; but before he could grasp them, the outer circle of the cyclone struck him and he was enveloped in a whirling ma.s.s of buffalo gra.s.s, twigs and dust. He grasped the Baby close to his sides fearing to be separated and the next moment felt himself lifted with a great volume of water and borne away as if he was of no more weight than a feather. When he recovered from the shock, he found himself stuck in the mud on the opposite sh.o.r.e. It was some minutes before he recovered sufficiently to proceed on the journey, fortunately uninjured.

Paul was favored with fairly good weather after the cyclone and in a few days ran into Bismarck, where he was welcomed and entertained on board the Northern Pacific transfer boat, by Captain Wolfolk. He was joined there by the correspondent of the New York Herald, Mr. James Creelman, who was sent out by that paper to accompany him the rest of the way and write up the Indian country.

After a brief rest at Bismarck, Boyton continued his course down the muddy river followed by Mr. Creelman in a canvas canoe. Contrary to his usual custom, he did not start until afternoon, in deference to friends in the town, and they had not proceeded many miles until night came on and camp was struck on a muddy bar. They were under way at sunrise next morning, and all day the river ran through a lonely country. Ranges of b.u.t.tes stretched away from the banks until they were lost in the distance and from every gully, purling streams flashed their clear waters into the yellow of the river. The banks were blushing with the glory of autumn and vines hung among the trees like curtains of the richest pattern. Game was utterly fearless until frightened away from the water's edge by a blast from the bugle or a shot. A bar was utilized for a camp that night and at ten o'clock next morning, the white tepees of an Indian village were seen, and piles of wood along the river indicated the approach to some settlement. On rounding a great bend, Fort Yates and the Standing Rock Agency were sighted. Paul was warmly received by the officers of the Fort and entertained in the most hospitable manner. Among the notorious Indian chiefs whom Boyton met at Standing Rock, were Rain-in-the-Face, Gaul, Low Dog, Long Soldier, the young chief Flying-By and others.

On the morning of October 5th, they resumed the journey, the banks being crowded with soldiers and Indians to see them start. After pa.s.sing an Indian village a few miles below Fort Yates, the country through which the river twisted and turned, again a.s.sumed a lonely aspect. Mile after mile was pa.s.sed without the faintest sign of civilization. Sand bars divided the river into five or six different channels and it required careful paddling to avoid the countless snags which stuck out of the water, sullen and threatening. The sh.o.r.es were strewn with driftwood,--logs that had floated from far up the river; red willow and cottonwood trees that had been gnawed from their roots by beavers; horns and bones of wild animals and the countless ingredients of drift piles were heaped on all sides. Amid all this desolation the Big Muddy flowed, making fresh ruins at every turn. That night camp was pitched on the bank and a wild goose was the leading feature on the supper bill of fare. The next day proved another lonesome one. Not a single habitation on the rusty hills that rose on either side and hid the fertile country beyond. Toward evening a ranch was sighted and they landed to test the hospitality of its proprietor, who proved to be a squaw man, the name applied to white men who marry Indian women. The travelers were cautiously received and finally invited to remain over night, on condition that they furnished their own provisions.

Several comely half breed children sat around the room while supper was being prepared by a good-looking Indian squaw. Noting the inquiring looks of Boyton and his companion, the rancher said:

"Yes, them's my children and that's my wife. She cost me a tidy bit, too. I gave up a durned good horse fur that squaw."

"How long have you been married to her?" inquired Paul.

"Wall, I ain't been married very long to this 'un. I had another almighty good lookin' one, that I lived with some years; but she got tired workin' an' run away to the tribe. This un's a good cook an a hard worker."

Supper was announced by the woman, who spoke to her husband in the Indian tongue, as she had not acquired English. The travelers and the master of the ranch sat at a small table, while the woman and the children retreated to a dark corner near the fire, where they ate.

"Will not your wife eat with us?" politely inquired Boyton.

"Eat with us!" exclaimed the rancher in breathless astonishment, "I shud say not. Do you think I'd eat with a durned Indian?"

After breakfast next morning, the travelers again took to the river, the squaw man extending an invitation to drop in on him again if they ever chanced up that way. As they pa.s.sed below the mouth of Grand river, the scenery began to change. Instead of gra.s.sy b.u.t.tes, the prairies were crowned with clay hills, riven as though by volcanic action and the river flowed under huge cliffs of a peculiar slate color. Wild vines twined their tendrils over sh.o.r.es ancient and fossilized, that were trod by tribes whose camp fires had burned out before Columbus ever dreamed of the new world. About four miles below Grand river, on a bluish cliff that shot out in the water almost at right angles, they landed and found many beautiful specimens of petrifaction--fish retaining their prismatic beauty of exterior. The mother of pear-like sh.e.l.ls of the extinct anomite lay about as though the place had once been the bed of a mighty ocean. The sh.o.r.e was covered with agates and looked gray and instead of mud sucks, there were pebbly beaches for some distance. Sometimes a bank that had been eaten away by the water, would exhibit strata of clay and soil so variegated in color that they resembled vast cameos.

At many places the soil was rich and black for six or seven feet deep, showing its wonderful agricultural properties, while here and there the alkali deposits seemed like frost work. The storms had eaten some of the ma.s.sive cliffs into forms of castles and there were galleries of arches and columns sculptured by the rain, stretching for miles on either side. At nightfall the scene was ghostly and imagination easily peopled the dark galleries with strange images.

At midnight the sky began to threaten rain. Paul sounded the bugle again and again in hope of reaching the ears of some hospitable rancher; but only the musical echoes were returned, until he was about to land and camp on the sh.o.r.e when he was hailed by a voice which proved to belong to another squaw man and the weary travelers slept on the floor of his house until morning. The ranchman had several grown up half breed sons who could not speak a word of English. One of them had just returned from a hunt on which he had slaughtered two-hundred buffalos, taking their hides and leaving their carca.s.ses to fester on the plains.

The start next day was the beginning of a long and tiresome run to Fort Bennett. During the afternoon, several geese and ducks were shot and a number of deer were seen in the timber points. When the sun went down, the country was lit up by remarkably beautiful hues, which died away as the moon rose clear and bright, and when it shone high above, the spectacle was magnificent. In some bends of the river the voyagers seemed completely landlocked and allowed the current to carry them safely through the quagmires and sand bars. They floated among a number of white swans and the whole flock flew upward with shrill cries, startling the cranes that stalked in the shadows and sending clouds of cackling geese and ducks whirling up from every gloomy nook and ravine.

Toward morning a heavy head wind sprang up that was very trying and just as dawn was approaching they entered a bend which was twenty-five miles in length, while the distance across by land, was but four miles.

By hard pulling Fort Bennett was reached at four o'clock in the afternoon and Paul and Creelman were conveyed to the house of Major Love, the Indian agent, in an army ambulance after twenty-eight hours of incessant pulling. They determined to rest next day and were shown everything of interest at the Cheyenne Agency, where there were over two-thousand Indians. The principle chief was Little-no-Heart and among the others were Rattling Rib, White Swan, The Charger and Four Bears.

These men were all peaceably disposed and belonged to the tribes that farm and raise stock on the reservation. They were driven about two miles from the fort to a tree in which a number of Indians, according to the custom of their tribe, had been buried. It was a goodly sized elm that had grown straight out of the ground to a height of twenty five feet, at which point the trunk forked into a dozen gnarled and twisted limbs, the peculiar black bark of which, gave them an unnatural appearance. Everywhere among the yellow leaves were perched heaps of decaying garments and bones. In some places, storms had torn away the gaudy funeral paraphernalia and whole skeletons were exposed. All the implements which the dead are supposed to need in the Happy Hunting Grounds, were placed at the side of the corpse and in one branch there was a trunk belonging to the skeleton just underneath it. So many Indians had been placed in the branches of this ancient elm, that it was said to have had a more vigorous growth than any other tree in its neighborhood in consequence of the fertilization afforded by the bodies.

Since the establishment of the agency, however, the Indians have not been permitted to keep up this disgusting practice.

There was an Indian school on the reservation, which was also visited.

The officials have a hard time of it to get the children to attend the school. The older ones are opposed to educating the youngsters and do not want them to learn to speak English. Some of the boys who were able to speak it fluently were ashamed to do so. They are apt pupils and can comprehend ideas with wonderful accuracy; the Government hopes that time will remove their prejudices and so they will become more civilized.

The journey was resumed next day at noon, pulling against a head wind; but their long rest gave them strength to contend with it, and the storm died out with the setting sun. Some of the b.u.t.tes below Fort Sully are shaped wonderfully like pyramids; walls and cones loomed up against the sky and one could easily imagine himself on the Nile floating past the sphinxes and temples of Egypt. Occasionally the voyagers would be startled by the splash of a gigantic catfish as it leaped out of the water, and the loons driven southward by the approaching winter, filled the air with their melancholy cries. Shortly after midnight a gale sprang up which quickly churned the water into heavy waves and before daylight a regular hurricane was blowing. Acres of fine sand eddied and swirled about in the air, making it impossible to see more than a yard or two ahead and almost suffocating them. By daylight the fury of the storm was so great that the voyagers laid down on the bank to take a much needed rest. When they started again, they found the town of Pierre only one mile below where they had camped.

A halt was made at Pierre for a brief rest, the travelers stopping at a comfortable little hotel. Paul had no more than arranged himself to enjoy his pipe before sleeping, than he was called on by the editor, a bustling, little man who was warmly enthusiastic on the resources of the country about Pierre. He flitted into the room, introducing himself in a breezy manner, and immediately produced a bottle from his hip pocket and two gla.s.ses from the recesses of his coat tails; they were a recent purchase for the straw had not yet been removed from them. His astonishment at Paul's refusal to drink was so great that it quieted him for a moment; but he soon broke forth again on the resources of the country, depositing divers samples of what appeared to be black mud on the table, which he called gumbo.

After a restful sleep, Paul and Creelman visited some of the sights of the town, among which was the grave of "Arkansaw." He was a desperado whose crimes were said to throw the exploits of Rocky Mountain ruffians into the shade. Something over one year before, "Arkansaw," who was then living at Fort Pierre, expressed a determination to visit Pierre, on the other side of the river and "clean out the town." With this philanthropic purpose in view, he crossed the river one bitter cold night on the ice; but found a party of gentlemen, called vigilantes, awaiting him and while he was loading in some liquid courage at the princ.i.p.al bar of the place, some one called him to the door and he was shot full of holes. They buried him next day and the funeral was a very enthusiastic affair. One of the chief executioners, who was also princ.i.p.al mourner at the burial, made the following characteristic speech which was heartily endorsed by the citizens present:

"Arkansaw was a good feller, boys, and no mistake. He on'y got off his bearin's w'en ther idee struck him thet he cud clean out this ere town.

But he were clear game. Three cheers fur the corpse."

The cheers were given with a will and another vigilante cried:

"A tiger fur Arkansaw."

With that the hero was lowered into the grave which is one of the sights of the town.

It was freezing cold the following day when Boyton and Creelman resumed the voyage, and Paul knew the rest of the journey would be a race against the winter which was now following close. He paddled between gumbo hills all afternoon. These black ma.s.ses are composed of a sticky substance which becomes quite slippery in wet weather. Not a blade of gra.s.s will grow upon them except here and there where the natural soil rises to the surface. Ducks and other wild fowl cowered in the niches or wherever they could gain a foot hold under the banks, to escape the keen wind. The sky was overcast and not a ray of sunshine appeared except a momentary gleam during a slight rain storm which occurred late in the day. Shortly afterward, the river narrowed considerably and they were forced to paddle through a field of snags close to the west sh.o.r.e. The presence of the snags was explained by the hundreds of beaver slides which were worn in the muddy slopes, showing that that industrious little animal was far from extinct as commonly reported. The banks were hived with beaver holes and several trappers were encountered who made a business of catching them.

Night came on cold and cheerless and at midnight they entered the greatest bend of the Missouri. Two steamboats were sighted aground on a sand bar. Paul sounded a salute on the bugle, but received no answer.

Later on the eastern sky was lighted up with a dull glare which soon brightened into a blaze and they could see a long line of flame and smoke racing across the prairie before a stiff breeze. At the mouth of Medicine river, the air was literally clouded with feathered game, hurrying into warmer lat.i.tudes from the frosty air of Montana and Dakota. At nine o'clock in the morning a landing was effected at the elbow of the great bend and breakfast made from choice bits of two ducks, shot just before. About noon they entered a great curving stretch of river, completely walled in on one side with hills, which resembled a vast causeway or an arched cathedral. The rain had worn a wondrous fretwork upon their sides and ribs of blue clay lent this effect to the whole.

As Paul and Creelman had paddled all night without stopping, the approach of the second night found them weary and numb with cold. There were no signs of the Crow Creek Agency and they began to fear that the settlement had been pa.s.sed in the darkness. At midnight such a gale sprang up that they were compelled to land on the east sh.o.r.e under the shelter of a high cliff. A fire of driftwood was built and supper cooked. Next morning the sun was melting the ice on the hillsides and the frost had converted the wild grapes that hung above them into cl.u.s.ters of pearls. But the beauty of the scene faded into nothingness when they found they had withstood the cold of the night, while the Crow Creek Agency was just on the other side of the river. The journey was resumed in silence and a few miles below, a glimpse of the Stars and Stripes was caught through an opening between two hills as they neared Fort Hale, where they were heartily welcomed by the officers and were soon resting in snug quarters. They remained at Fort Hale over Sunday.

Monday broke clear and there was not a ripple on the surface of the Big Muddy. By this time, Mr. Creelman had returned to his appet.i.te. At the start he could not think of drinking coffee made from the dirty river water and his stomach turned at the thought of eating blue bacon fried in a pan that was open to receive any little thing that might chance to drop in. He was now so hardened that he could eat a piece of duck washed in the thick water, or would s.n.a.t.c.h a piece of bacon off of the mud and swallow it with considerable relish.

Early in the afternoon they reached the little town of Chamberlain and the entire population was out on the bank to see the voyagers pa.s.s. An hour later, the Lower Brule Agency came in sight. Doctor Bergen, of Fort Hale, and one of the agency officials accompanied them for a few miles in a canoe, relieving the weary monotony by their pleasant conversation, while they also gave valuable information regarding several dangerous points below. Before reaching White river, Boyton frightened an Indian who was fishing from a bar out of his wits. He darted away leaving his catch and tackle and they had fresh fish for supper that night. While eating, a skiff containing two Indians approached and when within a few feet of the bank, asked Paul in good English, if he had any whisky to sell. He drove them away by threatening to sink their boat with a hatchet which he picked up from the deck of the Baby. This incident showed that there were still whisky smugglers plying their trade among the Indians. A short distance below they heard wild lamentations issuing from a clump of trees near the bank and saw the Indians were waking the corpse of a deceased friend. The mourner was attempting to sing; but the rhythm was so rude and incongruous, that it was really a series of howls. At the end of each stanza, the air was rent by a burst of war whoops that were calculated to make one's blood run cold. The weird chanting could be heard on the still night air miles below and the voyagers were convinced that there are many things more cheerful than an Indian wake. The night pa.s.sed without incident and after breakfast next morning, Paul had to spend some time in fixing one or two weakening places in his dress.