402 
FOREST AND STREAM. 
[May 24, 1902. 
suddenly came upon a grizzly bear that had lain down in 
the sand. Before he could set his trigger or even turn to 
fly, the bear seized him by the throat and lifted him off 
the ground, then flinging him down the ferocious animal 
tore off a mouthful of his flesh and turned and gave it 
to her cubs, which were near by. Glass now endeavored 
to escape, but the bear, followed by her cubs, pounced 
upon him again. She seized him by the shoulder and 
inflicted dangerous wounds in his hands and arms. His 
companion had by this time come up and was making 
war upon the cubs, but one of them drove him into the 
river, where, standing waist deep in the water, he killed 
his pursuer with a shot from his rifle. The main body 
now arrived, having heard cries for succor, and after 
several shots from close at hand, slew the bear as she 
was standing over the prostrate body of her victim. 
"Although still alive, the condition of the unfortunate 
hunter seemed well nigh hopeless. His whole body was in 
a mangled condition, He was utterly unable to stand and 
was suffering excruciating torment. There was no surg- 
ical aid to be had, and it was impossible to move him. 
Delay of the party might bring disaster upon all, yet it was 
repugnant to the feelings of the men to leave the sufferer 
alone. In this predicament Major Henry succeeded, by 
offer of a reward, in inducing two men to remain with 
Glass until he should expire, or until he should so far 
recover as to bear removal to some of the trading houses 
in that country. These men remained with Glass .five 
days, when, despairing of his recovery, and at the same 
time seeing no prospect of immediate death, they cruelly 
abandoned him, taking with them his rifle and all his ac- 
coutrements, so that he was left without means of de- 
fense, subsistence or shelter. The faithless wretches then 
set out on the trail for their employer, and when they 
overtook him, reported that Glass had died of his wounds 
and that they had buried him in the best manner possible. 
They produced his effects in confirmation, and their story 
was readily accepted. 1 g 
"But Glass was. not dead, and although the dread mes-. 
senger had hovered for many days so near, yet the 
stricken sufferer would not receive him, but persistently 
motioned him away. When Glass realized the treachery 
of his companions, far from despairing on account of it, 
he felt a new determination to live, if for nothing else 
than to search out his base betrayers and call them to 
account. There was a spring near by, and hither Glass 
drew himself. Over it hung a few bushes with wild 
cherries, and near by were some buffalo berries that he 
could reach. Here he remained day after day, gradually 
nursing back his strength, until he felt that he could un- 
dertake to leave his lonesome and unhappy camping 
ground. He resolved to strike otit for Fort Kiowa, a post 
on the Missouri River a hundred miles away. It required 
magnificent fortitude to set out on a journey like that, 
still unable to stand, and with hardry strength to drag one 
limb after the other; with no provisions nor means of 
securing any, and in a hostile country where he was at 
the absolute mercy of the most worthless renegade that 
might cross his path. But the deep purpose of revenge 
held him up, and a stroke of fortune came to his rescue. 
"He happened one day upon a spot where a pack of 
wolves had surrounded a buffalo calf and were harrying it 
to death. Glass lay low until the calf was dead, when he 
appeared upon the scene, put the wolves to flight, and took 
possession of the calf. Without knife or fire, it was not 
an easy thing to turn to account his good fortune, but 
hunger is not fastidious, and Glass most likely took counsel 
of the wolves as to ways and means of devouring what he 
required. Taking what he could with him, he pursued his 
way, with inconceivable hardship and distress, and at last 
reached Fort Kiowa" (which was just above the mouth 
of White River). 
Colter was another one of the heroes who has a chapter 
in this section of the book. He had been across the 
mountains with Lewis and Clark, had remained behind 
them to hunt and trap, and had been the first man to see 
the wonderland of what is now the Yellowstone Park. 
He it was who, captured by Blackfeet, was made to run 
for his life on the Jefferson River, who killed one of his 
Indian pursuers with his own lance,, and who finally, 
hiding among the driftwood in the river, escaped his 
enemies, and at last reached a post on the Yellowstone. 
The Fifth Part of the work treats of the country and its 
inhabitants. It gives a general description of the plains 
and mountains where the fur trade was carried on, tells 
of its geography and topography, gives the origin of many 
names, tells of the mountains, the forests, the grasses and 
other plants, of the mammals, especially those which had 
a bearing on the fur trade,, either from the value of their 
hides, or because they were useful for food. Incidentally, 
also, he speaks of some of the fishes, and of the rattle- 
snake. Several chapters are devoted also to the native 
inhabitants of the plains, and the statements with regard 
to them are usually drawn from the most authoritative 
sources. 
In the Appendix to the volume are given a number of 
extremely interesting documents and journals which have 
never before been publisher). One of these is the copy of 
a letter from Pierre Menard to Pierre Chouteau. An- 
other one from Manuel Lisa to General Clark. Various 
notes on the Astorian expedition, and a great many mis- 
cellaneous data which relate to the fur trade, and list of 
trading posts in the country west of St. Louis during the 
period from 1807 to 1843, extracts from a daily journal 
kept at Fort Tecumseh — Fort Pierre in 1832 — and the 
journal of the steamboat voyage from St. Louis to Fort 
Union and return. 
In connection with the list of trading posts must be 
mention the intensely interesting map which accompanies 
the work. It was drawn by Mr. Paul Burgoldt, and 
shows the main features of the fur trading country, 
the location of various Indian tribes, the trading posts, the 
routes of travel, and many other interesting points. There 
is perhaps no single feature of the work that will so well 
repay study by the old-timer, or the man interested in 
Western history, as this map, which might fairly be called 
a chronological introduction to the settlement of the 
Western country. 
Enough has been said to give some idea of the value 
and interest of Captain Chittenden's volume. It is not 
too much to say that it is one of the most important con- 
tributions to the history of the United States that has been 
made in recent years. 
— $ — 
Floating on the Missouri*— XII. 
Some time during the night Sah-ne-to awoke me and 
declared in shrill whispers that she had heard a bear 
prowling around the tent. We listened for further proof 
of his presence. There was a thick mat of crisp, new- 
fallen leaves on the little island, and presently we heard 
them crackling under the tread of some large animal. I 
arose and went to the doorway of the tent with my rifle, 
and stood for some time trying to get a glimpse of the 
night wanderer in the darkness. Around and about, now 
to one side and now the other side of the island, it 
prowled along with slow, soft tread, crushing and shuffling 
the dead leaves, occasionally breaking a small dry twig. I 
was satisfied that it was not a deer, for the sound of their 
sharp hoofs was long since familiar to my ear. Finally 
the animal left the timber, and I heard it wading through 
the shallow slough which at this part of the dry island 
separated us from the main shore, and then all was quiet. 
I lit a cigarette and smoked it, waiting, and shivering 
in the cold air, to hear its footsteps again, and hearing 
nothing, finally returned to bed and slept soundly until 
morning. Not so Sah-ne-to; hour after hour she lay 
listening for, and dreading the return of the animal, and 
at daylight again awakened me, and we had our break- 
'fast. As soon as the meal was over I crossed the river 
in the boat, Sah-ne-to accompanying me, and took my 
previous position to watch the big grizzly's cache. The 
sun came up, several hours passed, but he did not appear, 
and we went back to camp. Perhaps he had killed, or 
found another deer, or more likely, in some way we had 
alarmed him. 
After washing the dishes and getting camp in present- 
able shape, we started across the bottom and up the 
breaks, which are in this vicinity exceedingly rough. 
Crossing the bar between the island and the main shore, 
we passed close to the slough and found the tracks of 
the disturber of our rest; and sure enough it had been a 
bear. There were its tracks plain and sharp in the wet 
sand, and they were grizzly tracks of good size. "Ah !" 
said Sah-ne-to, "now do you believe me? You declared 
that what we heard was merely the hopping of a rabbit 
upon the dead leaves, but I knew all the time that you 
were only saying that to quiet my fears." 
' It was perhaps a mile and a half up to the foot of the 
sandstone cliffs and buttes forming the rim of the valley. 
On our way up we saw several mule deer, and, arrived 
at the base of a high broken cliff, we discovered a nice 
bunch of bighorn feeding along its crest. We found a 
place, a game trail worn along the side of a rocky slope, 
which enabled us to ascend to the top. The sheep had 
disappeared, and we went on further, ascending a little 
butte, from the summit of which we obtained a magnifi- 
cent view of that weird and wonderful bad land country. 
Hundreds of buttes were in sight, pyramidal, flat-topped, 
trunk-shaped, some of them showing only the bare earth, 
others grass grown, some fairly well timbered; and 
stretching away toward the Yellowstone were the tim- 
bered gashes and the rough breaks of Paradise, or Little 
Snow Creek, which enters the Missouri five miles below 
the Round Butte. I have been unable to learn when or 
why this little stream received its peculiar names. Un- 
doubtedly it was once a paradise for the red hunter, its 
willow-margined banks, its little grassy flats and its rough 
timbered breaks teeming with game — the buffalo, the 
elk, the deer, antelope and mountain sheep. The buffalo 
and elk have now disappeared, of course, but of the 
others goodly numbers still drink of its alkaline water. 
The day was pleasant, a clear sky and a warm west 
wind, and we sat on the top of the butte several hours 
taking in the wonderfully grand and weird scenery. 
"Oh 1" said Sah-ne-to, at last, "why could it not have 
lasted? Why did the white people rob us of our happy 
life? Why could we not have always lived the life for 
which Old Man created us? We had the buffalo, which 
were not only food, but clothing and shelter; and we 
wandered at will over hundreds of miles of these plains 
and mountains. And now, the game is nearly gone, the 
buffalo have all disappeared, and my people will shortly 
share their fate. Year by year, hemmed in upon a reserva- 
tion, living upon scanty food which the Great Father 
furnishes them, they are passing rapidly away." 
"Yes, Sah-ne-to," I said, "your words are true. The 
whites have deprived your people of their free and happy 
life. Yet, had they never come to this country, we would 
never have met." 
"Ai, that also is true; my heart is divided. I love my 
people with a part of it, but the greater part is yours. 
You have been good and kind to me always. Oh ! but the 
pitifulness of it all, Last winter, you remember, we went 
to Great Falls by the narrow-track railway, and we 
crossed the Bear River at Fort Conrad. You remember 
how it used to. be when we lived there so many years 
ago, the happy children playing upon the ice, spinning their 
tops and sliding upon it, and the men and women cross- 
ing back and forth? And last winter, when I saw the 
frozen, desolate stream, I remembered those days and 
mourned. They are gone, the most of those happy people; 
few are left, and they sit in sadness and want, awaiting 
the end. Soon the last one of them will be gone, and 
the name of my people will be but a memory. Alas! 
Alas!" 
We finally started for camp, the dinner hour beginning 
to assert itself. We saw more mountain sheep, more 
deer, and a band of antelope going down to the river for 
wafer ; but we had plenty of meat, and I forebore to shoot 
at any of -them. 
In the evening, after a satisfying meal, I again crossed 
.the river and watched a while for the big grizzly to ap- 
pear at his cache. But he did not come. At sunset the 
deer stole out of the thick timber and fed along its edge. 
Some of them within easy rifle shot, but they were not 
what I sought, and I went home in the gathering dark- 
ness without having fired a shot. 
We had a slight lunch, and prepared to retire at 9 
o'clock. About that time the wind changed, and a bitterly 
cold blast swept into the valley from the north. Sah-ne-to 
said that the Cold Maker had arrived. 
And she was right ; when we arose in the morning the 
river was full of floating ice cakes, and the shore was 
lined by a broad fringe of it. All hope of finding the 
big grizzly, or other of his kin, was given up. We were 
certain that winter had come, and that our only chance 
to get to the mouth of Milk River and the railroad was to 
start at once. After a hurried breakfast we struck camp, 
loaded the Good Shield, and pushed out into the stream. 
The water was fairly swift, and we soon ran by the mouth 
of Paradise Creek. The timbered bottom at its confluence 
with the river is several miles long, and shelters many a 
deer. As we went on under sail and oar, crushing 
through the ice cakes, the bottoms became wider and more 
heavily timbered. After an eight-mile struggle we passed 
Hell Creek, so named, as an old friend told me, "because 
a man always has a hell of a time to cross it horseback, 
owing to its cut banks and treacherous bottom." From 
there a further run of four miles took us to Featherland 
Island, and the mouth of Wolf Creek, which comes in 
from the north. The island was named after old Bill 
Featherland, an employe of the American Fur Company. 
He wintered upon it in the season of 1859-60, and killed, 
poisoned and trapped 1,500 wolves, to say nothing of 
coyotes and kit foxes. From all accounts, Featherland 
was a gruff, quick-tempered man, who never failed to 
say just what he thought. Once at Fort Union he was in 
the carpenter shop at work when a steamboat arrived 
having on board some Jesuit priests. One of these, wan- 
dering around, entered the place and said, in his broken 
English, "Company shop ? Company shop ?" 
"Yes," Bill replied, "company shop." 
After a little another priest came in and asked the 
same question. 
"Yes," Bill replied, turning angrily upon him, "Com- 
pany shop. How many times do you want me to tell you 
so? Git out of here." 
The priest ran out as fast as his long robe would allow 
him to, crying, "Bad man. Bad man. Help ! Help !" 
On we went, as fast as we could push through the con- 
gealing cakes of mush ice, which scraped and cut the bow 
of the Good Shield like a knife. Down past Anna Island, 
past Flirt Creek and Willow. Island, and then we turned 
northward into Red Cloud Bend. The_ north wind was 
sharp, the current swift, and an appalling sea was run- 
ning. I lowered the sail and took the oars. Sah-ne-to 
crouched in the stern, covering her eyes with her hands, 
trembling with fright, but making no complaint except to 
once say, "Surely the water spirits will now claim us for 
their own." 
I will admit that I was also scared; the skiff plunged 
into wave after wave, taking water every time, and there 
were, it seemed, a thousand snags to be avoided. At last, 
however, we reached the northern end of the bend, under 
the shelter of a high cut bank, and ran into still water. 
Sah-ne-to vowed a gift to the sun for our preservation. 
This bend is where the Red Cloud, that best of river 
boats, sunk in 1884. The stream is full of sawyers, and 
during such a gale as we had experienced the boat, heavily 
loaded and headed up stream, was pierced by one, sinking 
in a few moments, fortunately without loss of life. The 
shifting sands have long since covered her, no part of her 
remaining in sight. 
Passing the bend, the wind again favored us, and we 
sailed along at a good clip in spite of the ice. We passed, 
three miles below the bend, the bottom where we had 
conducted a branch trading post_ in days gone by, but I 
did not stop to review the familiar place. And then we 
sailed by the mouth of the Little Dry Fork, and an hour 
later camped for the night on the shore of Flopping Bill's 
Bottom, named after that murderous leader of the gang 
which has previously been mentioned in these papers. The 
shore was covered with deer tracks, and as we went into 
the brush to select a place for the tent, we saw several 
waving tails vanishing through the willows. 
The wind went down at dusk, but the night was cold, 
and there was more ice drifting down in the morning than 
on the previous day. It is a mystery to me how we made 
the thirty-eight miles to the mouth of Milk River that 
day, but we did so, landing at the mouth of the sluggish 
stream at dusk, within sight and sound of the trains of 
the Great Northern Railway. In the morning I hired an 
Indian boy to take us out to the station, and we reluctantly 
parted with the Good Shield, which had been to us such 
a staunch and serviceable cra»ft. We gave it to the boy 
who took us out to the station. 
And thus ended the most pleasant of the many trips 
Sah-ne-to and I have taken, and we vowed to repeat it 
another year, 
Appekunny, 
