m.a, 81 j 1881, J 



FOREST AND STREAM. 



4 



467 



Trading with the Indians had practically stopped. 

 Only a few old fripiidlies came in now with tincertain 

 or gloomy news. Of course the horse herd was a matter 

 of anxious attention. Every one brought up his horses 

 if they were within reach, and the band was herded on 

 the flat in sight of the post and partly fed with, hay be- 

 cause the feed on the flat liad been almost consumed by 

 the mule trains of the freighters. 



Some people, however, had left their horses at outly- 

 ing ranches, and in these cases it was usually thought 

 best to view their probable loss with philosophy. Matt 

 Carroll, however, had a friend who owned two fine driv- 

 ing horses which were running on .Jones's ranch, about 

 fifteen miles below Fort Benton, on the right bank of 

 the river. This friend not only wanted his team, but he 

 wanted it badly, for he had to drive to Helena in great 

 haste, and these horses vi^ere about the only ones he could 

 rely on for his intended journey. 



Carroll had tried se\'eral times to get men to go for the 

 horses, but in vain. It was thought, to be sure, that the 

 (i ros Ventres were north of the Missouri, but the slightest 

 chance of captm-e was an unpleasant risk. Finally Car- 

 roll happened to remember Jim, so he proposed to give 

 Jim $50 to ride down and bring the animals up. As Jim 

 was well mounted he could get down in two hours easily, 

 and ought to be able to come back with the team in three 

 hours more— so that starting after l)reakfast he could be 

 in time for dinner at the post. Jim thought the matter 

 over for a moment, and then lured by the chance of getting 

 some cash, which had of late been a kind of property tha t 

 he greatly lacked, he agreed to go. The arrangement 

 was made in the afternoon. Jim, counting as present his 

 future earnings, started in on the credit of his contract, 

 and for the first half of the night sought that experience 

 ■of life and manners which is found in the barrooms and 

 -card rooms of the frontier. About midnight he de- 

 iiermined to go home, when he suddenly remembered that 

 his turn for patrol duty fell in the morning watch ; so he 

 •decided that it was not worth while to go to bed, nnd 

 tpimply dozed in a chair by the barroom stove until called 

 I'or duty. 



After breakfast Jim saddled his horse, took his rifle and 

 set out. This horse was the identical Blackfoot pony got 

 from Lone Wolf, and from the retrospective value of 

 f 200 which Jim set upon the animal, its memory was 

 clearly precious. Jim forded the river at the first riffle 

 below the post, where in very dry times there was hardly 

 6in. of water, and then turned eastward, but not even 

 the chill of the winter morning could enliven his faculties 

 dulled by his long vigil, and perhaps somewhat stupefied 

 bv the reaction fi'om his evening's jollity. Jim nodded. 

 His horse sympathized with his humor and jogged easily 

 along. He was going at only half his intended speed, but 

 the thought did not trouble his sleepy mind. 



As the road pitched into a steep ravine the horse sidled 

 down with an even more deliberate gait. He reached 

 the bottom and Jim waked to find himself wrenched 

 from the saddle, his gun torn from him, his horse cap- 

 tured and half a dozen painted braves around him. Li 

 an instant a knife was at his thi-oat, and his d-ays were 

 like to have then ended but a mild-mannered old gentle- 

 man who accompanied the war party prevented the mur- 

 der and said that the prisoner must be straightway led 

 before the council. The jprisoner accordingly was stripped 

 of his coat, trousers and other clothes down to his drawers 

 and undershirt (though his moccasins were left as a 

 favor) and he was made to follow the horses tip to the 

 .assembly of warriors on the mesa above. 



Fortunately for Jim the same mild-mannered old chief 

 who had already saved his life continued to take an active 

 interest in its preservation, perhaps by force of habit, 

 perhaps on the ground of some relationship by blood or 

 adoption. The party assembled were clearly bent on 

 war. There was no baggage to be seen. No squaws. 

 The ponies were without saddles, prepared for rapid 

 work. The men had nothing with them but their arms 

 and, by reason of the cold, their blankets muffled warmly 

 but shapeleesly around them, and every face carried 

 broad daubs of red paint, which added to the dull ferocity 

 of the expression. 



"My son," said Jim's old friend as they approached, 

 "many questions will be asked you. You must a^nswer 

 these questions. Then you will be protected. I have 

 slept in the same lodge with you. you have given me 

 buffalo meat and coffee, but you must answer the ques- 

 tions. The young men are angry. Their hearts are very 

 high. They want horses and scalps." 



The warriors who were squatted around on the ground 

 as Jim's captors came up did not move otherwise than to 

 cast a grim look on the new comer, but when the pris- 

 oner's character was explained fu'st one and then another 

 would put a question to the shivering wretch. 



How many men were there at the post? Jim made a 

 fgenerous estimate. How were they armed! Did they 

 keep good watch? How many horses were there? Where 

 wei-e they herded? All this had to be answered with ap- 

 proximate truth. And indeed the truth should have 

 made the Indians cautious, but they had gone too far to 

 abandon their project now, and merely got information 

 to shape their attack. When the examina.tion was over 

 there was a well-supported suggestion that it would be 

 wise to take a preliminary scalp for good luck. Jim's old 

 friend, however, stuck to his defense, and it was decided 

 to send the prisoner off to the river and swim him over 

 to keep him from giving the alarm. Two of the young 

 bucks that had eff'ected the capture were detailed for this 

 service. 



Jim was tied to the tail of the horse of one man while 

 the other rode behind to see the fun. The trail was steep 

 and stony. Jim's moccasins, already soaked, were of 

 little pi'otection now, and his thin underclothes were torn 

 by every shrub they passed. The horses were put at a 

 fast lope. If J im stumbled he would be dragged to death , 

 and the grinning savage in front lashed indiscriminately 

 at his horse and his prisoner, sure to torture his captive 

 wherever the blows fell. In a time, short in minutes but 

 long in anxious peril, the party reached the river. Jim's 

 hand was untied, and the Indians, taking their guns care- 

 fully, signed to Jim to jumpin. 



It needed no second hint. Before th e sign was fin- 

 ished he had dived into the surging current and was 

 speeding down the rushing stream unc'er water. He 

 rose almost safe from any shot, but to dc ible assurance 

 he kept on going rapidly down until he reached a shal- 

 low far below. Then he waded to the northern shore 

 iind sat down under the low cut-bank to get his breath 

 and think, 



Until now he had been under a fearful tension. The 



shock of the surprise, the hideous prospect of torture amd 

 death had deprived him of immediate feeling. He shiv- 

 ered, but he didn't know it. His feet were torn and 

 mangled by his run and his body bruised and bleeding 

 from the V)ranches on the trail and the whip of the In- 

 dian, but at the time he had no thought for rhat. Now, 

 as he sat chilled by the ic,y river, half frozen by the 

 winter wind, bleeding, sore, and at last, for the moment 

 safe, he broke down and cried with the convulsive sob- 

 bing of utter pain and prostration. 



At last he climbed the cut-bank and found himself on 

 the site of an old cabin, and rummaging around some- 

 what aimlessly, his eye fell on an old-fashioned cap and 

 ball Colts revolver lost in the rubbish. It was quite 

 worthless, but it-was something, and , Jim grasped ic for 

 want of a better weapon and began slowly to crawl and 

 totter back toward the post, slinking and hiding like a 

 coyote. It was getting along in the afternoon, and the 

 west wind seemed to bring faint sounds of yelling and 

 firing that were not cheerful for a defenseless and freez- 

 ing man, so he chnse a retired den and waited, keeping 

 alive as best he could until after sunset. Then there was 

 no choice — he must get to shelcer or perish. He now 

 struck out with what speed he could, At 8 o'clock he 

 had reached that lofty bluff called the Croquant du Nez. 

 On the river side it was almost perpendicular, and he 

 kept along there, thinking that he would thus be safe on 

 one side anyhow. 



The wind had now risen to a very gale and it brought 

 to him the .sound of voices, but whether of whites or 

 savagss he could not tell. He fell flat on his face and 

 waited. The sounds came nearer. Soon he could dis- 

 tinguish forms against the night sky. About 50yds. away 

 the group stopped and consulted. Jim's first notion was 

 that the men were Indians, and be was about to drop over 

 the bluft' and take his chance of being killed by the fall; 

 then a sudden gust brought him some words in English. 

 They were men from the post and their language boded 

 no good to a stray savage. 



The same gale that carrii d the Avords of the whites to 

 .Jim made it useless for him to try to call to them. Yet 

 he must do something, for their peering glances had made 

 out his body and they were going to fire on the chance. 



With a shout, perhaps not wholly inaudible, of "don't 

 fire! don't fire!" Jim jumped up and, holding both hands 

 above his head to show at least that he was harmless, he 

 ruphed forward and fell in the midst of a reserve party 

 that had come to seek him. 



For the Gros Ventre raid had failed to do anything more 

 than capture a lot of horses and the scalp of one defense- 

 less unfortunate, at the expense of two warriors who fell 

 before the rifles of the whites, but, as has been seen, 

 among the animals lost was Jim McLane's horse, who now 

 disappears from history. H. G. Dulog. 



CANOE RECOLLECTIONS. 



MY first introduction to a canoe, by personal contact, 

 occurred in my ninth year at the mouth of the 

 Eiver Raisin, in Michigan. I had been vainly trying to 

 capture some rock bass on the banks of the river when I 

 chanced to see an old Indian in his canoe, whom I 

 beckoned to my side and asked him to ferry me over to 

 a charming little island where I thought my chances for 

 sport would be improved. The good red man complied 

 with my request, swept his craft across the water like 

 magic and volunteered to await my pleasure; and having 

 caught a fine lot of fish I was duly landed upon the main 

 shore again, deeply in love with the dugout canoe and as 

 happy as a king. To have a canoe of my own soon be- 

 came the leading hope of my life, and it was not long 

 before I was gratified, through the kindness of my 

 father, and a nice little Pottowattome affair soon became 

 the leading topic of conversation in the family. In the 

 immediate vicinity of my home, on the southern side of 

 the Raisin, stood two beautiful little islands, all covered 

 with trees, bushes and vines, and the tiny harbor which 

 they formed became the resting place of my canoe; and 

 after I had safely circumnavigated the two islands anum- 

 ber of times I was prepared for further explorations, 

 which I duly accomplished— not only on the Raisin but 

 also on many other waters of the United States. 



It was in a birch canoe that I visited the headwaters of 

 the Mississippi River in 1845, when my companions were 

 Chippewa Indians, and whose characteristics it was my 

 privilege to study and admire, and whose so-called sav- 

 age methods never causea me as much fear as the hoot- 

 ing of an owl over my head, as I counted the stars while 

 lying under my blankets in the shadow Of the trees. It 

 was from the same tiny craft that I watched the ripples 

 which were inlaying wit h each other in the center of a 

 marshy pond Itefore parting company, some of them turn- 

 ing to the west to find the waters of Sandy Lake and 

 thence to pass down the Mississippi River to be lo.^t in 

 the Gulf of Mexico, while the others, finding a passage 

 down the St. Louis River, were to cross the basins of the 

 great lakes Superior, Huron, Erie and Ontario, until they 

 reached the Gulf of St. Lawrence. 



It was in a canoe, moreover, that I first visited the 

 desolate sand hill where now stands the city of Duluth, 

 and obtained my first view of Lake Saperior. From that 

 point to the Apostle Islands I paddled along the southern 

 shore of the gi-eat lake, catching trout at the mouths of 

 various streams, j)icking up agates all along the shore 

 and afterward forming an acquaintance with the Porcu- 

 pine Mountains, Copper Harbor and the Sault Ste. Marie. 

 And I may add that next to the pleasure of meeting the 

 Poet Bryant at the Sault I enjoyed a canoe race over the 

 rough waters and captured many a noble trout, with a 

 Chippewa chief for my companion. 



My first view of the St. Lawrence was obtained at the 

 Thousand Islands, when I rambled among them in a 

 Frenchman's canoe, now sketching the picturesque rocks 

 and evergreen caves of verdure, and anon joining in 

 battle with muskalonge. At a later date I caught black 

 bass in the waters of the Ottowa with the late Harrison 

 Stephens, the noble man and millionaire angler of the 

 Dominion. It was from a birch canoe that I first 

 gazed ujjon the stupendous cliff's of the Saguenay 

 River, and while touching their sides with my paddle, 

 was informed by my Canadian comrade that the water 

 under our shallop wag not less than 600ft. deep. 



Long before the Restigouche, the Nepisiquit and the 

 Mirimichi rivers had become generally known as favorite 

 haunts of the salmon, 1 navigated their waters in birch 

 canoes. I once made a canoe trip with my wife and 



a sister along the Matapedia and St. John, rivers, and 

 subsequently visited the Hermit of Aroostook in hie cabin 

 on that river, nor can I ever allude to the bark canoe 

 without recalling the superb wilderness scenery of the 

 Upper Penobscot and Kennebec, and the magestic form 

 of Katahdin, as it looks down upon Moosehead Lake in its 

 marvelous beauty and loveliness. 



While the dugout or solid canoes of the Southern States 

 c-annot, on the score of beauty, be ciympared with the 

 birch-bark canoes of the North , they are undoubtedly 

 much safer, and associated with a world or beauty. Those 

 of the upper Tennesee may boast of a mountain land of 

 surpassing beauty, and of a rare and interesting history; 

 while those of Florida have it in their power to pilot the 

 way along the sleeping streams, where the live-oak forests, 

 matchless springs and lakelets, broad lagoons and fairy- 

 like islands are forever competing with each other to win 

 the alTeotions of the alien sportsmen and travelers. And 

 then, if we pass down the Alabama and Patcagoolah 

 rivers and reach the lower Mississippi and its southern 

 tributaries, we shall find that while the steamboats now 

 monopolize the business of those regions, the sportsmen 

 and lovers of matchless scenery must depend for their 

 choicest pleasures upon the canoes of those romantic 

 waters. 



As there is hardly a river in the LTnited States that has 

 not, in earlier and later times, been navigated by the 

 dugout or birch bark canoe, the very mention of the 

 craft naturally recalls the wealth of our country in its 

 flowing waters. The total number of parent streams 

 within the Union and on its borders is said to be 346, while 

 their tributaries make a total of 5,000. And to the 

 streams here mentioned may be added 1,817 full grown 

 lakes, making a grand total of nearly 8,000 waterways, 

 with which the American canoe has hitherto been iden- 

 tified. 



Turning now to the important part which the canoe has 

 taken in the history of our country, we cannot but be 

 surprised at its success. Lewis and Clark depended upon 

 it when they opened a pathway of empire over the Rocky 

 Mountains to the Pacific Ocean. And so was it when 

 Cass and Schoolcraft discovered the sourcess of the Missis- 

 sippi River; and also when Henry, Carver, McKenzie, 

 Jaques, Hennepin, and such explorers as Champlain, La, 

 Salle and La Honton first made the world acquainted 

 with the wonders of Canada and the region of the Great 

 Lakes. 



It was to their birch canoes that the Hudson's Bay and 

 American Fur companies were indebted for their great 

 and long continued prosperity, and without the birchen 

 waif how futile would have been the zeal of the French 

 missionaries in their labors among the aborigines of 

 Canada and the United States. It was in a birch canoe 

 that Daniel Bacon coasted the lonely shores of Lake 

 Huron when leading the noble and self-denying life of a 

 Protestant missionary among the Indians, whereby he set 

 an example which ought to bring a blush to the faces of 

 a large ma jority of the modern preachers of the land. 

 Except for the canoe the world would this day be without 

 the possession of that marvelous volume of American 

 adventures from the pen of Charlevoix. Another man 

 who in later years was greatly assisted by the canoe in 

 his explorations was the artist Catlin, and he it was who 

 pronounced the buch canoe the most beautiful craft in 

 the world. But perhaps the most imposing picture that 

 was ever produced by the birch canoe and its cousins the 

 piroque and batteau was that connected with the passage 

 of Abercrombie's army through Lake George, when seven- 

 teen thousand men crossed over to Ticonderoga in their 

 romantic fleet, only to be defeated in their war-like ex- 

 pectations. 



Aside from their beauty and fairy-like movements, the 

 American canoes are noted for the skill with which they 

 are managed in running down the rough waters of our 

 river!--, or in bounding over the billows of the sea. 



The skill which the Indian and French voyagers always 

 manifested in the management of their cauoes has seemed 

 to me a marvel and a mystery ; and while the birch canoe 

 has won the palm in gliding and leaping down the rapids 

 of the North and West, the tiny fishing craft, with its 

 covering of skin, has performed wonders along the 

 northern coasts of the Atlantic and Pacific Oceans. 



As boy and man, I remember only two occasions when 

 my life was endangered in connection with a canoe. The 

 first was in a shallow bay of western Lake Erie, when I 

 attempted to haul into my canoe a mammoth catfish 

 which I had hooked with a hand-line, and the weight of 

 which exceeded that of myself and canoe combined, I 

 secured my fish, but measured that part of the lake with 

 my legs and arms, and duly reached the shore in safety. 



The second adventure that I would mention occuiTed 

 in the valley of the Restigouche, Although accompanied 

 by my wife and a sister, I had planned a canoe trip on 

 the Matapedia. Two canoes, with four Indians and 

 three passengers, made up the cavalcade. After crossing 

 the Restigouche and entering the tributary, we made two 

 discoveries, first, that there was a roaring freshet coming 

 down the sti-eam, and secondly, that all the Indians were 

 in a state of intoxication, whereupon I ordered an im- 

 mediate landing, and in less than two hours we were all 

 safe under the roof of Athol House, the place of our de- 

 parture. We remained there one day, and then started 

 for the St. Lawrence over the Metis portage by the usual 

 route in an ox cart, over the hills and through the woods, 

 and I owe it to the Matapedia to declare that, while 

 joined by the canoemen in preventing me from passing 

 up its beautiful waters as I desired, it was my privilege 

 to capture near its source a 361bs. salmon, as a kind of 

 return for my disappointment, Charles Lanman, 



POSSUMS UP A TREE. 



Editor Forest and Sftream: 



1 never saw a wild possum in my lite, and miglity few of any 

 kind anywhert*, but I can settle tha.t dispute about '"pr'ssuuis up a 

 tree," by quoting from no less an autbority than ''Uucle Gabfa 

 Tucker," who in one of liis most celebrated musings says: 



"De bantam chicken's mighty fond of roostin' purty high, 

 An' de turkey buzzard sails above de eagle in de sky; 

 Day ketches little minners in de middle ob de sea. 

 An' de smalles' kin' o' possum up de bigges' kin' o' tree," 



E. E. T. 



It Will be Kept There. 



Auburn Four Corners, Pa., Deo. 8.— Forest and Stream Pub 

 Co.: Inclosed And ten dollars ($10) to advance my subscription to 

 the Forest and Stream for three years. I intend to read it as 

 long as you keep it up to its present standard. G. W. Bunnell 



