THE AMERICAN SPORTSMAN'S JOURNAL. 



ns, Four Dollars a Year. I 

 Ten Cents a Copy. < 



NEW YORK, THURSDAY, JANUARY 24, 1878- 



( Volume 9.— No. 25- 

 INo. Ill Fulton St., N.T. 



CATASTROPHISM. 



TO PBOMSSOB 0. C. MARSH, BY A N0N-UNIF0RMITARIAN. 



"DRE&K, break, break, 

 - 1 -* At tUe cold gray stones, O. 0.! 

 And I would that my tongue could ntter 

 The thoughts that arise in me. 



0, well for the five-toed horse 

 That his boaes are at rest in the clay,! 



O, well for the ungulate brute 

 That he roams o'er the prairie to-day 1 



Thy rocks bear their record of life, 



Evolved from Time's earliest dawn ; 

 But oh for the view of a vanished form, 



And the link that is missing and gone ! 



Break, break, break, 

 At thy fossils and stones, O. C! 

 But the gentle charm of Uniform Law 

 Can never quite satisfy me. 



—San Franciaco Bulletin, 



For Forest and Stream and Rod and Gun. 



fagzging on tJ\e ]§p#tr <gjte$wrl 



Bi Ernest Ingeesolx,. 

 NO ILL 



EMBARKATION AT POET BENTON — SKETOH OF THIS NAVIGATION 

 — "SPAEBING " A SAND-BAK — A SCRAMBLE FOE BEEAKFAST — 

 8CENEET AND INDIAN LEGENDS — THE PI0TUBE8QUE DESOLA- 

 TION OF THE BAD-LANDS. 



NOW let the imaginative reader conceive us to have picked 

 our way at sunrise down amoDg the redoubts of freight 

 on the bank of the river, walked the treacherous gang-plank 

 and climbed to the hurricane deck of the Benton — a good and 

 comfortable steamboat, stern-wheeled, 395 tons burthen, Capt. 

 McGarry— and that we are headed down stream, with the his- 

 toric town just out of sight around the bend, and the leads- 

 man calling lustily the decreasing depth as we approach the 

 dreaded Shonkin bar. Moreover, let him fancy himself great- 

 ly entertained by something a certain person is instructing 

 him upon, namely, steamboat navigation on the Missouri. 



It was not until 1811 that the waves of the Mississippi 

 were parted by a steamer's prow, but long after this novelty 

 had ceased, the upper Missouri was shunned as utterly im- 

 practicable for steamboats, so that as late as 1830 we find the 

 American Fur Company clinging to its keel-boats, and drag- 

 ging its goods by human labor the long and toilsome distance 

 from St. Louis to the mouth of the Yellowstone. But in that 

 year it was determined to try a steamboat on the Upper Mis- 

 souri. It was supposed that unusual strength and solidity 

 were essential to encounter successfully the dense array of 

 snags and bars, and in 1831 a new side-wheel boat named 

 <( Yellowstone" was specially built. This boat succeeded in 

 reaching Fort Pierre the first season, and Fort Union the 

 next, but was found to be of improper build, and was soon 

 replaced by the " Assinibojne," which was far more succes- 

 ful. That she might produce a more startling impression 

 upon the minds of the Indians, she was provided with an ap- 

 paratus through which the steam could escape with a terrific 

 and unearthly din, and at her bow was a large carved figure 

 representing an Assiniboine warrior. One of her passengers 

 on the first trip was Mr. Catlin, the painter and student of 

 aboriginal life. The following winter this boat was frozen in 

 above Fort Union, and the next season burned by accident. 

 The American Fur Company subsequently owned a consider- 

 able number of steamboats, and every year saw one or more 

 ascend to the mouth of the Yellowstone. Several attempts 

 were made to push yet higher up the river, but with indiffer- 

 ent success, until in 18G0 the light-draft steamboat Chippewa 

 ascended quite to Fort Benton. To the Choteaus, father and 

 Bon, is due the credit of this achievement. 



Meanwhile we &r§ droppping down the river, and Shonkin 

 bar has been passed with small difficulty. This is August 

 17th, and the last boat of the season, hence we have grounds 

 for fear of getting aground. The Missouri depends wholly 

 On the melting of snow. Its highest stage ia therefore in 

 June, when the summer has begun seriously to be felt in the 

 mountains and tablelands. After this, as less and less snow 

 is left to be melted, the flood decreases, and in September and 



October the river is very low. The latest departure from 

 Fort Benton on record is August 27th, and we esteem our- 

 selves fortunate in getting a boat at this date. 



When a boat fails to pass a bar after proper trials— finds 

 herself well aground— she resorts to "sparring." At each 

 side of the extreme prow, on the lowest deck, and therefore 

 almost at the 'surface of the water, stand two stout masts 

 about 40 feet high, inclining slightly forward and firmly stayed. 

 To each of these is suspended, by strong tackle at the top, a spar 

 of equal length and heaviness with the mast, so arranged that 

 its lower end, which is shod with an iron spike, can be dropped 

 into the water on either side of the bow. Now when a sand- 

 bar is under the keel, and refuses to yield, the spars are dropped 

 and the iron point sinks firniiy into the sand. Then the tackle 

 is put upon the capstain, the donkey-engine puffs and pants 

 as though it was doing it all by a personal exertion of human 

 strength, the tackle winds up in a vain attempt to force the 

 spars down into the sand, which of course results in lifting 

 the steamboat up and dragging it forward to the extent of the 

 length of the spars, which now lie prone alongside ready to be 

 readjusted and pulled against the second time if necessary. 

 It is just as though you had put your hands on a fence and 

 leaped through them. 



From the contemplation of this feat in navigation we re- 

 turned to breakfast at the ringing of the bell. Entering the 

 cabin I found it occupied by a long table for passengers, and 

 a small table for the officers. The ladies on board— of whom 

 there were a score or more, mainly wives of Montana mer- 

 chants going East to spend the winter— had been seated before 

 the bell was rung, else they would have had small chance I 

 fear ; for the seats were not half as many as the passengers, 

 and there was a grand scramble for the first table. I could 

 enjoy it since, though '.he courtesy of Mr. Barr, clerk of the 

 boat, I had been given a permanent chair at the officers' table. 

 The breakfast was a good one- far better than ordinary Montana 

 hotel fare in point of both material and cooking, and after a 

 day or two the scramble ceased by an amicable arrangement, 

 so that the three substantial meals were thoroughly enjoyable 

 every day. The Missouri flows through a hungry latitude. 

 Men must eat, and are quick to discharge the duty. 



While we ate this first breakfast the deck-hands took on a 

 lot of silver bullion which had been brought down from Fort 

 Benton in wagons, since it was too heavy to trust to the boat 

 to carry over Shonkin bar, and the great red " schooners of 

 the plains" were bivouacked on the bank, beside each one a lit- 

 tle fire, where groups of teamsters in picturesque roughness of 

 attire sat eating their breakfasts. On the way up the boat left a 

 quantity of heavy freight here, and this the wagons will carry 

 up to the fort this afternoon. 



The bluffs here are about a mile apart and perhaps 200 feet 

 high. They are of clay, light colored, black at the base and 

 much gullied by water. Between these the river winds 

 about, the bends being taken up by grass or willow clothed 

 flats, with occasional islands densely overgrown by willows 

 and large cotton wood trees (Populus), looking very green in 

 contrast to the universal gray, yellow and brown. Twenty-five 

 miles below Fort Benton a widening of the bottoms, broad 

 islands of sand, and a long line of trees under the abrupt 

 northern shore, indicated the delta of the Marias, a large 

 tributary from the Northwest. On these bluffs a trading-post 

 was built as early as 1831, by James Kipp, an American Fur 

 Company's agent, whose name is perpetuated in some rapids 

 below, and whose son led the famous Baker Massacre against 

 the Piegans. The river is a limpid stream, flowing over a 

 pebbly bed, the bottoms being lined with a heavy growth of 

 trees and bushes. A little way up this stream occurred a 

 most sanguinary conflict between Gros Ventre and Crow 

 Indians in 1849. Twenty-two Crow3 were concealed in a 

 hollow for the purpose of stealing horses from the Gros 

 Ventres' camp, consisting of two hundred lodges. Being dis- 

 covered, the Gros Ventres surrounded them ana threw up 

 dust in the air, which was carried by a strong wind in the 

 faces of the Crows, blinding them, when the Gros Ventres 

 rushed upon them and killed the whole number without losing 

 a man. Among the Crows was a Gros Ventre who had been 

 taken prisoner in early life. He begged for his life, told who 

 he was, but against him, very properly, they executed I heir 

 wrath, telling him he had no business to come on such an errand 

 against his own people. The Crows fought bravely j one of 

 their number, with knife in hand, jumped down a hill some 



sixty feet, but was despatched before he could do any injury. 

 None were left to carry home the news. . 



This point passed, the right bank of the river continued 

 high, the bluffs throwing strong shadows; but the left (north- 

 ern) shore became sloping and grassy, permiting glimpses out 

 upon the plains, which were devoid of much interest except 

 when groups of antelopes would raise their pretty lyre-crowned 

 heads to gaze at us from the top of some ridge, or scamper 

 nimbly away as we came round a bend. The sun was very 

 hot, and the passengers soon abandoned the deck to arrange 

 their diminutive staterooms, sleep, read or attend to some o£ 

 the seventeen babies that formed our musical corps, making 

 the boat resemble at times an Indian village lamenting the 

 death of its chief. 



Toward noon Bear's Paw came in sight off to the north, 

 between us and Milk Kiver, a range of sharp pointed granite 

 hills, with pine forests -on top that look like tossing waves. 

 The road from Minnesota to Oregon passes along their further 

 slopes, where the aspect of the range is said to be stern and 

 wild. The home of the Gros Ventres, once a very powerful 

 nation, but now decimated through continual warring, Bear's 

 Paw has been the scene of much Indian fighting ; and even 

 as I write comes the news of the Nez Perce Chief Joseph's 

 defeat at the hands of General Miles in this very spot. Very 

 lately gold has been found there, and emigration must soon 

 possess itself of the woods and valleys. Ceyond are the 

 Sweet Grass Hills, with their fragrant herbage, the resort of 

 the Blackfeet, who aver that Providence created these hills 

 especially for this tribe to use as lookouts for buffalo. 



Where the river passes through these hills the poor quality 

 of coal underlying all this vicinity crops out in the bluff and 

 has been mined to a small extent. Some day it will no doubt 

 prove highly valuable for the use of steamboats. On a prairie 

 bottom just below you notice a little ruined stockade over- 

 grown with weeds and bushes. A year ago a "whisky 

 trader " was killed there in a quarrel with a young Gros Ven- 

 tre about a squaw. Such events are the prime cause of many 

 an Indian war. The whisky traders are the curse of the 

 Northwest— they are unlicensed peddlers of literal fire-water, 

 who sneak about eluding the revenue officers and frontier 

 troops as long as they are able. The almost invariable result 

 of their illicit trade is violent death at the hands of some 

 drunken savage. 



The next sign of humanity was presented by Eagle Creek 

 City, which consisted of two small log-houses,, joined to. 

 gether by a continuous roof. We landed the citizens, to wit 

 one man, who will stay here all winter cutting wood for the 

 steamers ; a dog, a cow, a wall-eyed horse and some provis- 

 ions. It was near here that a well-known old trapper, Louis 

 V. Mercure, drowned himself in a moment of dejection, and 

 his lone grave is marked by four mossy posts. This is sixty- 

 five miles from Fort Benton, and we have fairly entered the 

 Bad Lands, by far the most picturesque portion of the whole 

 river scenery. 



In place of the yellowish and bluish cliffs, whose square 

 fronts and crowning slopes of sere-grass had already grown 

 monotonous, there now appeared on the northern bank a con- 

 tinuous array of lofty bluffs deeply eroded, and devoid of 

 vegetation ; while on the southern bank such bluffs were in- 

 terspersed by open spots and grassy knolls. The earth of 

 these steep and rugged bank was nearly as white as lime, except 

 where protrusions of igneous rock made a black and desolate 

 blot upon the already cheerless landscape. The bluffs rose to 

 a height of several hundreds of feet by successsive ledges, and 

 here and there some tower of lava, tougher than the sand- 

 stone through which it had been thrust, would stand as a 

 a ruined monument of the decay of the general level. But 

 even the lava dikes, being porous and seamed by lines of 

 cleavage, crumble under the strokes of Time and Weather, 

 but cnunble unequally, leaving unexpected and fantastic 

 images— freaks of those merry carvers, Frost and Water — 

 to stir the fancy of the beholder. At one point the river flows 

 between two high promontories of lava that stand opposite 

 like gate posts, rising a hundred feet perpendicularly from the 

 water's edge. Such ruined dikes strike across the hills in 

 every direction, standing from 10 to 100 feet above the sur- 

 face, and dividing the region into great irregular fields as 

 though with stone fences laid by Cyclopean laborers. Here 

 and there these workmen of Vulcan have erected the dwellings, 

 fortifications and public edifices of their ancient town. You 



