The Great Salt Lake Trail. Buffalo Bill
never been West, and were totally unacquainted with its dangerous travel.
Wyeth and his men found themselves completely at a loss when they reached Independence, the then frontier post. None of them except the leader had ever seen an Indian or handled a rifle. They had neither guide nor interpreter, and were totally ignorant of the way to deal with the savages, or provide food for themselves during long marches over barren plains and wild mountains. In this predicament Captain Sublette found them, and in the bigness of his heart kindly took them in tow. Both parties travelled amicably together, and they arrived without accident on the upper branches of the Platte.
Sublette, Campbell, Wyeth, and their parties pursued their march westward unmolested, and arrived in the Green River Valley. While in camp one night on the bank of a small stream, toward morning a band of Indians burst upon them, yelling, whooping, and discharging a flight of arrows. No harm was done, however, excepting the wounding of a mule and the stampeding of several of their horses.
On the 17th of July, a small party of fourteen, led by Milton Sublette, brother of the captain, set out with the intention of proceeding to the southwest. They were accompanied by Sinclair and fifteen free trappers. Wyeth, also, and his New England band of beaver hunters and salmon fishers, now dwindled down to eleven, took this opportunity to prosecute their cruise in the wilderness, accompanied by such experienced pilots.
On the first day they proceeded about eight miles to the southeast, and encamped for the night. On the following morning, just as they were preparing to leave camp, they observed a moving mass pouring down a defile of the mountains. They at first supposed them to be another party of trappers, whose arrival had been daily expected. Wyeth, however, reconnoitred them with a spy-glass, and soon perceived they were Indians. They were divided into two bands, forming, in the whole, about one hundred and fifty persons, men, women, and children. Some were on horseback, fantastically painted and arrayed, with scarlet blankets fluttering in the wind. The greater part, however, were on foot. They had perceived the trappers before they were themselves discovered, and came down yelling and whooping into the plain. On nearer approach, they were ascertained to be Blackfeet.
One of the trappers of Sublette's brigade, a half-breed, named Antoine Godin,[11] now mounted his horse, and rode forth as if to hold a conference. In company with Antoine was a Flathead Indian, whose once powerful tribe had been completely broken down in their wars with the Blackfeet. Both of them, however, cherished the most vengeful hostility against these marauders of the mountains. The Blackfeet came to a halt. One of the chiefs advanced singly and unarmed, bearing the pipe of peace. This overture was certainly pacific; but Antoine and the Flathead were predisposed to hostility, and pretended to consider it a treacherous movement.
“Is your piece charged?” said Antoine to his companion.
“It is.”
“Then cock it and follow me.”
They met the Blackfoot chief half-way. He extended his hand in friendship. Antoine grasped it.
“Fire!” cried he.
The Flathead levelled his piece, and brought the Blackfoot to the ground. Antoine snatched off his scarlet blanket, which was richly ornamented, and galloped away with it as a trophy to the camp, the bullets of the enemy whistling after him. The Indians immediately threw themselves into the edge of a swamp, among willows and cottonwood trees, interwoven with vines. Here they began to fortify themselves, the women digging a trench and throwing up a breastwork of logs and branches, deep hid in the bosom of the wood, while the warriors skirmished at the edge to keep the trappers at bay.
The latter took their station in front, whence they kept up a scattering fire. As to Wyeth, and his little band of “down easters,” they were perfectly astounded by this second specimen of life in the wilderness; the men, being especially unused to bush-fighting and the use of the rifle, were at a loss how to act. Wyeth, however, acted as a skilful commander. He got all the horses into camp and secured them; then, making a breastwork of his packs of goods, he charged his men to remain in the garrison, and not to stir out of their fort. For himself, he mingled with the other leaders, determined to take his share in the conflict.
In the meantime, an express had been sent off to the rendezvous for reënforcements. Captain Sublette and his associate, Campbell, were at their camp when the express came galloping across the plain, waving his cap, and giving the alarm, “Blackfeet! Blackfeet! a fight in the upper part of the valley!—to arms! to arms!”
The alarm was passed from camp to camp. It was a common cause.
Every one turned out with horse and rifle. The Nez Percés and
Flatheads joined. As fast as the trappers could arm and mount
they galloped off; the valley was soon alive with white men and
Indians scouring at full speed.
Sublette ordered his party to keep to the camp, being recruits from St. Louis, and unused to Indian warfare, but he and his friend Campbell prepared for action. Throwing off their coats, rolling up their sleeves, and arming themselves with pistols and rifles, they mounted their horses and dashed forward among the first. As they rode along they made their wills in soldier-like style, each stating how his effects should be disposed of in case of his death, and appointing the other as his executor.
The Blackfeet warriors had supposed that the party of Milton Sublette was all the foe they had to deal with, and were astonished to behold the whole valley suddenly swarming with horsemen, galloping to the field of action. They withdrew into their fort, which was completely hidden from sight in the dark and tangled wood. Most of their women and children had retreated to the mountains. The trappers now sallied out and approached the swamp, firing into the thickets at random. The Blackfeet had a better sight of their adversaries, who were in the open field, and a half-breed was wounded in the shoulder.
When Captain Sublette arrived, he urged the men to penetrate the swamp and storm the fort, but all hung back in awe of the dismal horrors of the place, and the danger of attacking such desperadoes in their savage den. The very Indian allies, though accustomed to bush-fighting, regarded it as almost impenetrable, and full of frightful danger. Sublette was not to be turned from his purpose, but offered to lead the way into the swamp. Campbell stepped forward to accompany him. Before entering the perilous wood, Sublette took his brothers aside, and told them that in case he fell, Campbell, who knew his will, was to be his executor. This done, he grasped his rifle and pushed into the thickets, followed by Campbell. Sinclair, the partisan from Arkansas, was at the edge of the wood with his brother and a few of his men. Excited by the gallant example of the two friends, he pressed forward to share their dangers.
The swamp was produced by the labours of the beaver, which, by damming up the stream, had inundated a portion of the valley. The place was overgrown with woods and thickets, so closely matted and entangled that it was impossible to see ten paces ahead, and the three associates in peril had to crawl along, one after another, making their way by putting the branches and vines aside, but doing it with great caution, lest they should attract the eye of some lurking marksman. They took the lead by turns, each advancing some twenty yards at a time, and now and then hallooing to their men to come on. Some of the latter gradually entered the swamp, and followed a little distance in the rear.
They had now reached a more open part of the wood, and had glimpses of the rude fortress from between the trees. It was a mere breastwork, of logs and branches, with blankets, buffalo-robes, and the leather covers of lodges extended around the top as a screen. The movement of the leaders as they groped their way had been descried by the sharp-sighted enemy. As Sinclair, who was in the advance, was putting some branches aside, he was shot through the body. He fell on the spot. “Take me to my brother,” said he to Campbell. The latter gave him in charge of some of the men, who conveyed him out of the swamp.
Sublette now took the advance. As he was reconnoitring the fort, he perceived an Indian peeping through an aperture. In an instant his rifle was levelled and discharged, and the ball struck the savage in the eye. While he was reloading he called to Campbell, and pointed out the hole to him: “Watch that place, and you will soon have a fair chance for a shot.” Scarce had he uttered the words when