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FOREST AND STREAM. 
[Aug. 189?. 
SHEEP AND SNOWSHOES.— VII. 
A Winter Hunt on the Summit of the Rockies. 
About midnight on Ihe night of the 15th a furious storm 
began, severe enough to waken even the sound sleepers of 
the lodge. Nothing was to be done, however, but to grum- 
ble and turn over under the blankets. In the morning, 
when I awoke and looked out of the hole in the top of my 
blankets, I observed the floor of the lodge to be occupied by 
a series of long, snowy mounds, under each of which some 
man was reclining. At the place where Schultz had gone 
to bed there was a long heap of snow. This now broke 
apart, as an unshaven face peered out of the blankets. 
Schultz was not one to grumble openly, so he made no 
comment, but reached out to the pan of dishes which stood 
near bis bed, and taking up a tin cup, began methodically 
to bail the snow out of the blankets about his neck. Billy 
Jackson and his rheumatism made a long and silent cocoon 
under the flap of his sleeping-bag, and O to ko-mi had 
nothing to offer by way of conversation. My own bed was 
covered a foot deep at tJie foot, where the snow had drifted 
utider the lodge lining. It was not cold under the snow, 
though of course we had to carefully shake the blankets 
clean of it before we built a fire. 
All the morning the wind roared and sobbed and whined 
and tore at the lodge cover, and the snow sifted continually 
under and through and above the lodge lining. Shep, poor 
dog, was much put out to find a resting-place, for wherever 
he turned he found nothing warmer than a snowdrift in the 
lodge. He finally selected Billy as the best natured man in 
the outfit, and thenceforth divided blankets with him. The 
lodge groaned and flapped and threatened to blow away, and 
the kettle on the cross-pole above the fire danced a witches' 
dance as the pole bent and sprung back under the wind. As 
we sat on the edge of our beds and hugged the fire, our 
backs needed to be protected by heavy coat or blanket 
against the cutting blasts which crept in at the back of the 
lodge. The sifting of the snow annoyed us, so we dug out 
our bags and guns and pulled down the lodge light all 
around, so the snow could not get in. Then we saw it was 
a case of snow or smoke, for when we cut off the draft the 
smoke refused to rise above the top of the lodge against the 
sweeping wind. We wept in what patience we could mus- 
ter, and reviled Pah-kuk-kus, Ai so pom-stan, and all other 
evil spirits of the mountains. There was little comfort in 
either alternaiive, for to sit all day in a bitter smoke is not 
pleasant, neither is it comfortable to sit in a wind of un- 
known velocity when the thermometer is playing hide and 
seek with the bottom of the bulb. It was a bitterly cold 
time. We stood it as best we might, lying flat down on the 
floor of the lodge and rolling up in our blankets. Poor 
Schullz, who was making effort to cook something for his 
large and hungry family, had the worst of it. Once in a 
while a specially severe gust would blow open the door-flap 
and send a stream of smoke all around him, at which he 
would drop the frying-pan. roU over on his bed, and groan 
in the most heartfelt manner. 
Evidently there was no hunting that day, for when one of 
us ventured out into the storm it was impossible to see 
further than the edge of the woods, the mountains being 
quite invisible. The whole world was swallowed up in the 
shifting, swirling sheet of cutting white. It was the bliz- 
zard of the mountains, and it made an experience not soon 
to be forgotten. 
On an occasion of this kind, we had one unfailing source 
of occupation and entertainment. We called such days our 
"no-hunting days," and forthwith bade Billy forget his 
rheumatism and fall to story-telling. The weather was very 
bad for Billy, and at times we had to call a bait in the 
story, while we rubbed Billy well with liniment before he 
could go on; but nearly always after such a grooming he 
was able to resume, although he declared that our rubbing 
was worse than the rheumatism. We really blistered him 
in great shape, so that he peeled beautifully; but there is no 
telling how many stories we should have lost if we had not 
blistered Billy. He got so that at the first indication of the 
approaching liniment bottle he wouM begin to talk fast and 
very eloquently, telling all the stories he knew. 
Stories of Indian Fortitude. 
Here are some of the stories Billy told us about the old 
times, much abbreviated iu print, and robbed of their ac- 
companiment of the flapping lodge and the roaring wind 
and Billy's rheumatic groans, to say nothing of everybody's 
objurgations at Shep, and the common and unanimous re- 
, proof of the smoke waves which flooded us continuously. 
''You talk about brave men," said Billy, "but if ability to 
Stand pain is any showing of sand, I reckon the Indians 
were brave enough in their w^y. It never seemed to worry 
an Indian any if he had to suffer or even to die. I remem- 
ber once I saw the execution of a Cree Indian, up at Ft. 
Edmonton. That was in 1879 or '78, I forget which. This 
Indian was arrested for murder, or something of that sort, 
and was sentenced to be hung. He looked out the window, 
- and saw them building the scaffold for his hanging, the first 
thing of the kind he had ever seen or heard about; and 
when they told him what it was for, he laughed fit to split 
his sides about it. He said it was a funny thing these white 
men would go to much trouble to kill a solitary Indian, 
when it could be done so much quicker and easier in other 
ways. He died in the belief that it was a good joke on the 
white men. 
"Now they are going to have a little hanging this very 
day, March 15, up at Ft. McLeod. This Is the day Char- 
coal the Blood is to b3 executed. He was guilty of murder, 
and was free for some time, although the Indian police were 
after bim. He said he would not be taken without a fight, 
so it was thought well to be careful. He never would have 
been taken without killing some one, if he had not been 
captured by his own family. He went to his brother's 
house, and his own brothers kept a lookout on him, and 
finally, taking him unawares, sprang on him, bound bim, 
and then surrendered him to the authorities. That shows 
you how the Indian sense of justice works. They didn't 
think Charcoal was doing right not to surrender and be 
tried. 
"You remember the magazine article printed a few years 
ago, that described the death of two Crow young men, who 
were demanded by the otflcers as prisoners, to be tried for 
murder? These young men said they would not surrender 
and be tried, but they would come out and be killed like 
aaea, without trial. It was therefore agreed, that at a cer- 
tain hour of a certain day, tbe chiefs were to give ihem up. 
They were to ride out of the Indian camp, and to charge on 
the line of soldiers, getting as close up as they could in their 
last warlike charge. And so it happened. At the very 
hour, these two boys cime out on horseback, each fully 
armed and painted up, and they both came on a-running. 
They were killed close up to the firing line, and according 
to their creed they died like men. Maybe they were not so 
far wrong on the manhood basis, either. 
"I have read about the Indian executions among the 
Creeks and Cherokees, in the Indian Nations. They tell me 
that when a man is condemned to die there, he is released 
without any bail or guard, and allowed to go home and get 
his things put in order for his long absence. He goes home, 
gets his crop taken care of, sets his affairs in order the best 
he can, bids his wife or wives good-bye, and promptly on 
the appointed day he shows up for the execution. It is said 
that no case has ever been known where an Indian ever 
failed to keep his date with death. When he has come to 
town the Sheriff meets him, and after there has been a talk, 
and good bye all around, the man stands up, the Sheriff 
pulls a bead on him with his six-shooter, there is one shot 
and the affair is done. No Indian has ever been known to 
weaken at his death in this way, which, according to his 
notion, is what is to be, and not to be worried over. 
"In 187B there was a little scrimmage going on between 
some of our Blackfeet and the Crees, up near the old fort 
which Joe Kipp christened Fort Whoop-up. There was 
one Cree who was behind a rock, and who fought there for 
some time before he was cornered. He had no belter gun 
than one of the old Hudson Bay f uques, but as the Black- 
feet closed in he killed a warrior with it all right. He was 
then surrounded, and his gun taken away from him. He 
laughed in the faces of the Blackfeet who took him. A 
Blackfoot warrior pulled up one arm of the Cree, and taking 
out his knife, deliberately unjointed the right arm of the 
Cree at the shoulder. The Cree still laughed in defiance, 
and if he felt any pain no Blackfoot there could see it. 
Angered at his defiance, the Blackfeet cut off his other arm 
in the same way, and they went away and left him sitting 
on his rock, still laughing at them, and telling them that 
they could not hurt him. Of course he was bound to die; 
but I leave it to you if he didn't die game." 
Billy Jackson's Capture by the Cheyennes. 
As I have earlier mentioned, Billy Jackson was a scout 
from the time he was 16 years of age. He was with several 
generals, besides being with himself a good deal. He was 
with Terry six months, with Custer two years, and with 
Miles three years. We asked him to give us a little touch 
of his own life now and then, for we knew that this long 
and good-natured fellow had a lot of things up his sleeve in 
actual experience. Schultz said we ought to have Billy tell 
how he was once captured by the Indians. What Billy told 
us, as nearly as I can remember it, was about thus: 
"It was in 1879 and in the month of March," said he. "I 
was under Gen. Miles then, and I had been out four months 
hunting with the rest of the boys for the Cheyennes, who had 
broken out from the reservation on the Indian Nations, 
where they had been transplanted, and who had fought their 
way far to the north in their attempt to get back to their old 
hunting grounds. They were known to be somewhere north 
of the Black Hills, for it had been easy enough to trace them 
as far as the last railroad, since of course at every railroad 
they would be reported. But just where they were was a 
question, for you see this is a mighty big country out here, 
or anyhow it was before the railroads and telegraph lines 
came in. 
"I had come back from one trip, to the settlements at 
Glendive for more supplies, and from Glendive I took two 
other scouts, Indians, a man named Fleury and another, and 
we started across the Yellowstone River on the ice. It was 
cold, and the river was not yet free of ice, but was pilled full 
of it in great gorges. We didn't have time to wait for the 
ice to move, and we had no other way to get over; sol 
started across on the ice. We lost one of our mules with its 
pack through the ice here, but I would not turn back to re- 
place that; 60 we kept on down toward the south as far and 
as fast as we cpuld travel. 
"Finally we got as far into the south of the Yellowstone 
as the Hole-in-the-Rock Creek, some fifty miles north of the 
Belle Fourche. Here I knew there were "Indians near around 
us, for we had their sign plain. One day my Indians wanted 
to build a fire, but I told them not to do it, but that we 
would eat our grub raw rather than risk a fire, for we didn't 
know how soon the smoke might be seen. But they thought 
it was all right, so they set her a- going. Meanwhile I rode 
up on a little knoll above camp to take a look around, and I 
hadn't been up there long before I saw a rim of fire start off 
down the prairie. The camp-fire had got away, and the boys 
could not stop her. This was a pretty how to do for scouts, 
but we couldn't help it. I called to Fleury to make a run 
for it, and started to get over the hills; but 1 hadn't ridden 
over 400yds. when I ran bang into four Indians, who pulled 
up and signed for me to surrender, I didn't have my gun 
where I could get at it soon enough, and the upshot of it was 
surrender or get shot, so I surrendered. These Indians were 
waiting for me just over the top of a little ridge. I made the 
best of it, and seeing that we were all going to be taken, I 
at once pretended to be friendly; and I just turned around 
in my saddle-and called to Fleury and ttie other fellow to 
come on, as here were some of our friends! Fleury was a 
Sioux half-breed, and at that time I was wearing my hair 
long and was looking pretty woolly; and as it happened 
I could speak a little Sioux, I concluded 1 would make a 
bluff at being a Sioux too. So I told them la fluent Sioux 
talk that we were glad to see them all; that we were looking 
foe them all the time, and that we had been pretty lonesome 
all alone out in the prairie until we had found them. 
"Of course the Cheyennes couldn't understand my Sioux 
talk, but they couldn't tell what I was driving at; so they 
took us all to their camp, where I found that it was really 
Little Wolf's band of escaped Cheyennes that w.e had found, 
only we hadn't found them just the way I had counted on. 
There was a Sioux woman in their camp, as it happened, 
which was a pretty good thing for me, I may say. 1 talked 
mighty nice to that woman, and she did the interpreting for 
me into Cheyenne. 
"Little Wolf asked me where the soldiers were. He 
knew mighty well that the soldiers were after him, and that 
he was going to hav6 a run for it, but he was no wiser than 
the general of our troops about the whereabouts of the 
enemy. It was too big a country, and of course we were not 
following a trail, but trying to pick up a trail by crossing it 
somewhere out in the hundreds of miles of open and rough 
country. That is what scouting used to mean. Old Little 
Wolf asked rae mighty hard and particular, three different 
times, where were the soldiers. 'Tell me the truth,' he said, 
through the Sioux woman. And three times I replied to 
him that not for the world would I seek for one moment to 
deceive a nice old man like him, but that really I didn't 
know anything about the soldiers any more than he did; 
that I hated soldiers, and would like to go to war against 
them; that my companions and myself were just out hunting 
in that country, and wanted very much to be taken into the 
band with these Cheyennes and go on north with them. 
"Old Little Wolf appeared to be puzzled, I did lie to him 
so earnestly and beautifully. You see, a fellow can lie 
mighty fast and hard when his life is upon it, so I suppose I 
did it scientifically. Anyhow, he concluded not to kill us, 
but told us to sleep with the camp that night. They took 
away our arms and horses, and put Fleury and the other man 
in a lodge by themselves, right in the middle of the camp, 
while I was kept in Little Wolf's lodge as a guest worth 
watching. I thought I might as well sleep, so I did, till 
along toward morning I heard a racket. I knew what was 
up as well as though they had told me. Fleury and the 
other fellow had escaped. I was left alone with the enemy. 
They cut a slit in their lodge, got to their horses, and moved 
their freight aflyin'. 
"When I heard of their escane I thought it was all up with 
me sure, and it wasn't long before Litlle_ Wolf was after me, 
mad as a wet hen. 'You've been lying to me all along,' he 
said. 'These men have gone to tell the solders. You are 
no Sioux at all. I will have you killed ' 
"'Oh, come now, old man,' 1 said to him, 'don't get all 
stirred up over this.' (All the time my own hair was creeping, 
though I didn't dare show a sign of scare, as you may sup- 
pose.) 'Come now,' I said, 'you're away off about this So 
far from this making me out a liar, it only proves that I have 
told you the truth. I told you these boys were dead scared 
of your folks ail along, your men have talked so rough to 
them. They are not Cheyennes, and they don't know your 
people, and they can't tell a really great and good chief at 
sight, the way 1 can. They're afraid to go on north with 
you any further, for fear some of your foolish young men 
will slip an arrow into them; so they have lit out. They are 
men of no sand at all, and 1 wouldn't pay any attention to 
them if I were you.' 
"Well, I must have been an inspired confidence man; for, 
anyway, I acted so blame cool and indifferent about it that 
Little Wolf hesitated again, and again said he guessed he 
wouldn't kill me. I think he was getting a little nervous 
about then, and didn't want to kill "any more men than he 
could help, lest it should count too heavily against him in case 
he should get rounded up any time soon. At any rate he 
set me free in camp, and told me that I could go along with 
them, though I could not leave the party 
"It happened that some of the young men were going out 
antelope hunting that next day, and I asked if I mightn't go 
out and have a little hunt with the boys myself. Little Wolf 
said he didn't care, but that I'd better keep pretty close in to 
camp or some of the foolish young men might shoot me, as a 
good many of them had expressed an earnest wish to do that. 
I told him they were only fooling — that I wasn't afraid of 
my friends. 'But see here, old man,' I said, 'you'd better let 
me have my own horse, for this cayuse you've given me is 
no good on earth. I don't want to get laughed at if I go 
hunting with these young men. Give me my own horse and 
my rifle and some cartridges, and I'll go out and help kill 
some meat. I'm a little of a hunter myself, as I'll go on to 
show you if you give me a chance.' 
"Well, that old fool, Little Wolf, was silly enough to let 
me have my horse and gun again, though he only allowed 
me to have six cartridges. SoT. went on out with the; hunt- 
ing party, and before long we got into some antelope. I shot 
and crippled one antelope, and I set on out after it, shooting 
, at it once or twice to keep up appearances, but bting mighty 
careful not to hit it, for that crippled antelope was bttter 
for me than a dozen dead ones. I crowded the antelope on 
off up into a sort of coulee, the other hunters being all pretty 
busy off in other directions. I kept on running it, and 
shouting and shooting, till I only had one more shot left. 
- The antelope was then a little way off from the others. I 
' knew my horse was a good one, and that he was grain fed 
, and able to outstay their ponies. So. when I got as good a 
start as I could, I dug into him and went off a-flying, hitting 
the ground in the high places, and all the Cheyennes after 
me very cordially. They weren't lucky enough to hit;me or 
to catch rne, and I kept right on across the country all day 
and as far into that night as my horse could stand up. Then 
I took off the saddle and let him feed a little I went all 
that day and all that night, all the next day and all the nest 
night. I made a big elbow, some ninety miles in all, from 
toward the head of Powder River over on to O'Fallon's 
Creek, and at 9 o'clock in the morning of my next day, I 
saw a column of soldiers on the march and knew in a min- 
ute what was up. Fleury had got to the troops and the col- 
umn was out after Little Wolf. I had still my last cartridge, 
and I had had nothing to eat since I left the Indians at the 
antelope hunt. I ate a slight lunch when I got up with the i 
troops. 
"We crowded on after the Cheyennes, and in less than 
sixty miles we overtook them and surrounded them. Little 
Wolf surrendered to the troops, and when he saw me he was ■ 
the maddest man I ever laid my eyes on. He was ready to , 
do all sorts of things to me. But I explained to him how it 
had been, and told him that I had to do it, and that if he ' 
had been in my place he ought to have done the same things < 
as it was the only thing to prevent my being killed at once, i 
I told him I was sorrf for him, but that he would have been 
caught anyway, so he ought not to feel hard toward me. 
And blamed if I didn't confidence him again, so that after 
awhile he said that he guessed I was right, and that I was . 
justified as a warrior in doing what 1 had done! 
"This band of Indians had left the Indian Nations the 
summer before this, 1878, and they had fought their way 
north in the long campaign, which was at the time well , 
known, clear across Kansas and Nebraska and up to where 
we caught them. That was something of a masterly retreat, 
when you come to think about that, since they had all the | 
U. S. army after them for several months. In the sandhills ' 
of Nebraska, Dull Knife, the head chief, with his band was 
captured. 'This was in 1878. The Indians so captured rose 
on their guards and killed a number of the soldiers and lost 
a great many killed in return. Little Wolf told us of that, 
and he said that they had had theu hardest fighting wherever 
they crossed the railroads, as the troops could be massed 
there to meet them, I suppose." 
The Suicide of the Cheyennes. 
"Of course, when a band of Indians travels across country 
this way, they don't go like so many soldiers, in a close mass, 
but more or less scattered out. I say that we took Little 
I 
