^82 
FOREST AND STREAM. 
[April ii, 1903. 
— « — 
A Perilous Ride — L 
A Story of Indian Days. 
Tt was the 12th day of February, 1877— a cold raw 
day. _ The snow was ahnost all gone from the valley, ex- 
cept in spots and drifts. It was the most cheerles.=; season 
of the year, and what little business there was in Boze- 
man was at a standstill. We Avere over 500 miles from^a 
railroad ; the mail was carried in coaches and by pack ani- 
mals; the principal business came from the Indian trade, 
and furnishing supplies by the United States Govern- 
ment to the various tribes then in Montana. Indians, 
with the white hunters and trappers and gold prospectors, 
who were roaming over the country in every direction, 
were the only inhabitants of eastern Montana at this time. 
The war with the Sioux and other Indian tribes was at 
its height. 
Fort Ellis, three miles from Bozeman, was garrisoned 
Vvith both cavalry and infantry. At the mouth of Tongue 
River, General iMiles, with a large force, was in camp at 
what was called the Tongue Ruer Cantonment. Com- 
munications between Gen. Brisbin at Fort Ellis and Gen. 
Miles were carried by scouts, both white and red, as the 
Crow Indians were sometimes employed. At this particu- 
lar time the Indians wefe so bad and numerous between 
■Brisbin and IMiles, a distance of nearly 400 miles, that it 
was difficult to find anyone to carry dispatches, $300 being 
offered for the long and perilous trip. 
I found myself this cold, raw, cheerless day in Boze- 
ir.an, pos.sessed of mule, a saddle pony, a fine 13-pound 
old reliable Sharps rifle, a fine gold watch, and a pack 
outfit. Except lor 1-hese articles I was completely 
"busted." I had never been to Tongue River, or down 
the Yellowstone for more than 150 miles, but had a good 
idea of the country, having traded with the Crow Indians 
several years before at the Crow Indian Agency, eight 
miles beyond where the town of Livingston now stands. 
My wife had died about a year before. I had lost my 
business and sent my little daughter, four years old, back 
to the States to my parents, and was ready for anything 
out of the ordinary. 
I was born and raised in the mountains of Kentucky, 
and wa-s, as the saying goes, a born mountaineer. Two of 
my aunts had married grandsons of old Daniel Boone of 
Kentucky. I got the western fever when quite young, 
after meeting Kit Carson and Col. A. G. Boone in Wash- 
ington city in 1S66 with a delegation of Indians, and 
would have gone back with them but for my father, who 
v/as at that time a member of Congress from Kentucky, 
and would not consent to my doing so: I returned to 
Kentucky, married, and the following year f.ound me on 
the road to the headwaters of the Yellowstone, which 
place I reached in September, 1869, as trader for the 
Crow Indians, which position I held for quite a time, 
leaving my wife and baby in Bozeman, at tliat time a 
small frontier town. 
Under present circumstances I was ripe and ready for 
anything in the Indian and hunting line, and volunteered 
to carry the dispatch from Brisbm to Miles. 
I pawned my watch for $100, as I did not care to take 
it on the trip, and with the money .got a fine Winchester 
rifle, with plenty of ammunition for both my guns, -Al 
the clothing and bedding I needed, had my .anirajils sharp 
shod, taking an extra set of shoes and a shoeing outfit 
with me; secured a fine field glass at Ft. Ellis from Capt. 
Ball, placed my dispatch in a monej' belt wrapped in oil 
cloth, my tobacco, pipe and matches in my canteenas, and 
was ready for the "Cantonment." 
I left Bozeman about 8 o'clock on the morning of the 
14th of February, passed through Rocky Canyon and , 
over the divide to Trail Creek, arriving, late in the even- 
ing, at the lower end of Trail Creek on the Yellowstone ' 
Bottom at the cabin of an old hunter, a friend of mine, 
by the name of Trout. You may rest assured that I was 
more than welcome, and after my pony and mule were 
cared for, I was soon at a veritalale feast of cold boiled 
elk, a hot corn dodger, a large raw onion, and n good 
quart cup of No. i coffee that can only be made from the 
fine soft waters of the Rocky Mountain streams. What 
more could a Kentucky mountain man wish for? T 
enjoyed the meal only as a hungry man can, and after 
listening to the hunting and trapping adventures of my 
friend until quite late, we rolled up in our blankets and 
were soon in the land of dreams. 
Early next morning, after a fine breakfast of broiled 
antelope and some mountain flap-jacks and good coffee, 
I was in the saddle again, reaching the YelloAvstone about 
noon. I traveled until near sundown, when I unexpected- 
ly came to a dugout in the bank of the river, where Dave 
Roberts was trapping and poisoning wolves. Flere I re- 
mained all night, and received the same hearty welcome 
of the night before. I cut a few small cottomvood tree^ 
for feed for my mule and pony; the bark of the young 
Cottonwood being equal, if not superior, to hay. and oats. 
I did not leave my friend until about 4 o'clock in the 
evening of the next day, as I had quite a long stretch of 
country to pass over with no timber or snow and wished to 
make that ride during the night. I was now in the Indian 
country, and had to keep a good lookout, and as much as 
possible shun patches of snow— to hide my trail — and 
sleep during the day, as the Indians seldom move at night. 
Of course I was in some danger of running on a camp 
of sleeping Indians, unless my mule should give the 
alarm. I depended on this, for if thereever was an ani- 
mal that hated and feared an Indian it was that mule. 
She could smell one, with the wind, a good mile, and half 
that distance against the wind ; so I had very little fear 
of being surprised. 
I traveled about 25 or 30 miles before daylight, made 
camp deep in the timber near the bank of the river. 
I tied my mule and pony in a thick patch of willows ; with 
my butcher-knife shaved some young cottonwood trees 
for them, ate a cold snack of elk and bread, rolled up 
m my blankets and was soon asleep, depending entirely 
on my mule for warning of any danger that might come. 
I awoke late in the afternoon, feeling much refreshed and 
= wanting a cup of coffee very much, but I was afraid to 
piake a fire in daylight, as the smoke could be seen so far. 
lagt I r?meniber?d having seen a piece of candle iii my 
canteenas. I fished it out and then, for the first time in 
my life, began to make a cup of coffee over the flame of <». 
dandle. It was a long, tedious job, but in time I was re- 
v/arded by seeing the water hot, and pretty soon I had as 
nice a cup of coffee as one could wish under the circum- 
stances. 
About 7 o'clock in the evening my nmie began to give 
unmistakable signs of Indians. She kept her ears pricked, 
looking down the river. I saw that the anim.als were 
securely tied, and crept slowly down the river bank to the 
lower end of the timber. By this time it was quite dark, 
but I could see quite a distance on the prairie. I distinctly 
heard Indians singing and coming nearer— straight to- 
ward me. I waited a moment to be sure they were com- 
ing my way, and heard them strike the ice of the river 
about 200 yards below the point where I was lying. I 
crept down the river bank a little fu.rther and in the-twi- 
[ight could see them crossing on the ice — about twenty 
Indians and 150 or more horses. I soon made up my 
mind what was up. It was a small war party of Sioux 
on a horse-stealing expedition against the Crows. I 
waited until all had crossed and passed out ox hearing; 
£uid knowing that the Crows would be after them at day- 
light. I concluded to put as much distance between us as 
possible before that time. The Crows were on friendly 
terms with the WJiites, but I did not care to run across 
Ihem so far away from the settlenients. 
I traveled all night and having made thirty or more 
mile.s before daylight, I camped in the thick timber, again 
shaving more cottonwood bark for the animals i<nd fast- 
ing myself. I slept until noon, and being very hungry 
I determined to make a quick fire, get everything ready, 
make coffee and bread, fry some meat and move along, 
as there was plenty of timber on both sides of the river. 
1 got ready plenty of shavings and some nice dry wood, 
mixed a little flour in the small sack I had — salt and yeast 
powders having been mixed before starting — secured a 
ciry cottonwood stick, got it good and hot, rolled my 
dough into a long snake-like piece, wrapped it around the 
hot stick and set it up before the fire, whicli I now 
started, with my meat and coffee all on at the same time. 
It burned nicely, and there was scarcely any smoke, as 
the twigs were so dry. I soon had a fine meal, which I 
, found afterward could be had on meat alone when the 
?ppetite_ is there. It was now about two o'clock, with 
every sign of a storm coming on — cold and raw, with 
stray flakes of snow beginning to fall. 
I made another start, following the river bank as much 
as I could. By 6 o'clock it was snowing fait and every- 
thing promised a good fall. About thirty miles further 
would take me to where two men named Moore — -"Old 
Pike" as he was generally called — and Zed Daniels, who, 
I had heard, Avere trapping beaver, had a dugout about 
ten feet from the river. By keeping close to the river I 
could not miss it, and I determined to make the camp 
before sleeping again, as the now fast falling snoAV would 
cover my trail almost as fast as made. Just at dark I 
made camp at the mouth of a dry coulee that ran into the 
river, thickly surrounded by cottonwood and willows, the 
AvilloAvs on the banks above meeting and forming a com- 
plete roof, preventing the snow from entering at all. It 
A/as dry as a powder house and sheltered from the wind. 
In fact, after my mule and pony were securely tied in the 
upper end of the coulee, about twenty feet from the mouth, 
and the saddles and pack outfit taken off, it Avas as com- 
fortable a camp as anyone could Avish, and Avould have 
been a regular paradise for one of my temperament in 
times of peace. I really felt as if I could remain in this 
beautiful, quiet place for a whole month. Anyone might 
be Avithin six feet of me and never discoA^er my hiding place. 
I took my little hunting hatchet and cut the ice near 
the mouth of the coulee, and after long chopping Avas re- 
Avarded by getting through the ice and seeing the Avater 
creeping up in my spring. It was a treat. I watered my 
mule and pony, cut them plenty of bark, made a good fire, 
which could not be seen any more than if it had been in a 
house, and cooked and ate until I could eat no more. I 
felt so comfortable after eating as I sat there smoking and 
thinking of the loved ones down in old Kentucky, that, 
before I knew it, I was almost asleep. I jumped to my 
feet, re-filled my pipe, saddled my mule and pony, and 
Avith many regrets mounted and rode out of my cozy- 
quarters to face the storm that Avas noAv raging in earnest. 
I must make the camp before daylight and leave no trail 
behind me. As good luck would haA^e it, I could follow 
an old game trail near the river that answered every, 
purpose of a road. I kept up a steady trot until I thought 
I must surelj' be in the neighborhood of the camp -I Avas 
looking for, and began to go a little more sloAvli' for fear 
1 might pass it, for it Avas quite dark. 1 had the rope 
a-cund the horn of my saddle leading my mule. Avhen, 
for some reason she suddenly stopped and would not move 
h.r, inch. I loosened my gun and began to look around 
as well as possible in the darkness. The next instaiit 
the most unearthly sound I ever heard in all my life broke 
the awful stillness. I fell from my saddie as if struck 
by lightning, and it was a good moment before I could 
realize what had happened. My mule had simply stopped 
and brayed like a jackass. It seemed to me as if it could 
be heard for five miles. She had scented the horses be- 
longing to Moore and Daniels, and knoAving they Avere 
not Indians, had given vent to her joy Avith that awful 
sound. 
After looking around a few minutes I discovered 
sparks of fire seemingly coming out of the ground, and 
knew it Avas the dugout. I gave a long, low Avhistle and 
was soon answered. "Old Pike" Moore, a famous beaA'cr 
I rapper of the Yellowstone, came out and called: "Who's 
there?" I answered, "Coon Tail." 
"By the jumping Moses, Billy, come in; ain't you near 
froze? Plow do you do? What are you doing doAvn 
here? All alone? Well, by jiminy, you can just thank 
this storm for your being here in place of your hair be- 
ing at some Indian Avar dance, for before this snoAV they 
were getting thicker than mosquitos, and that is all that 
saved you. They are lying in camp such Aveather as this. 
Got any cartridges ? Yes ; Avhat kind ?" 
"Sharps .45-90's and Winchester." 
"Bully," says Pike. "We were running 1oa\'." 
"Well, I've got about a thousand," I said, and Pike was 
happy. 
By this time the mule and pony were unsaddled and 
tied in a sheltered spot covered by willows, and Avith 
j)knty of cottonwQQd to eat, Never in my Uie did ^ 
out look so good and feel so comfortable and safe. It 
Avas only one log high, but they v/ere inunense cotton- 
woods, at least three feet in diameter, with as large a one 
in center on top, the room being dug out like ?. cellar. 
Avith port holes all around betAveen the ground and the 
log. Three men were here — Moore, Daniels, and a man 
named LoAvery. The four of us, Avell amied and pro- 
visioned in this dugout, could have stood off the whole 
Sioux tribe— at least that is the way Ave felt, and the way 
you feel is the way you are. I Avas tired, hungry and 
sleepy, and after a good warm breakfast and a good 
smoke, I turned in for a good day's sleep. I did not 
Avake until late in the evening, feeling entirely rested, 
but the storm still raging and the snow quite deep. I had 
left no tracks behind, consequently felt quite safe and 
concluded to stop here until the storm Avas over, keeping 
a good look out that no one passed me with another dis- 
patch. As long as I was in the lead, I Avas ail right, and 
the boys had plenty of grub. I spent the time helping th-; 
bciys skin beaver, Avhich they were catchir»g fast. The 
storm over, the sun came out warm and the snoAV was 
fast disappearing. I Avould soon be on the move again. 
One evening, after I had been in camp about a week, 
I concluded to take a little stroll alone. The timber belt 
at this place Avas quite large, on the north side of the 
river being over a mile wide and several miles long, Avith 
a good game trail about the middle. I took the trail, car- 
rying my Winchester and three belts of cattridges, one 
OA'er each shoulder and one around the waist. With my 
glasses, hunting knife and pipe I was rigged to perfec- 
fion. I must have gone about two miles from camp Avhen 
I emerged from the upper end of the timber belt, and was 
just in the act of stepping out of the brush when I dis- 
covered eight Indians coming straight for the point Avhere 
T was standing, and only about 100 yards off, all on the 
dead run. I knew they had not seen me as yet, and 
ouicker than telling it, I was off, back doAvn the trail I 
had come, as fast as my legs could carry me. I had not 
fione very far Avhen, stopping a moment, I heard them 
coming. As there were only eight and they had not seen 
me, I did not feel so badly scared, but had very little time 
to think. 
There Avas a large cottonwood tree standing near the 
trail and another fallen one that had lodged just in front 
of it and Avas thickly surrounded by willoAvs. In a 
moment I was under one and behind the other, and had 
no sooner got there than swish, swish, SAvish, I could 
hear their leggins rubbing against the willov.s until eight 
had passed. I could not tell whether they were Sioux or 
Crews, as they passed so quickly and I Avas so completely 
hidden that I could not see. After they haa passed, I 
got out and folloAved as fast as possible. I had not gone 
far when I concluded I had better fire my gun three 
Imies in quick succession, being the signal chat Indians 
Avere coming. I was then about a mile from camp, and 
the boys, hearing my shots, Avould be on the lookout and 
xA'oiild give me some signal pretty soon. I Avaited for a 
time and hearing nothing left the trail and made for the 
river, which I reached in a fcAV minutes and. under the 
tanks made my Avay toward camp. When I heard a shrill 
whistle I answered, and Daniels shouted that all was 
light When I reached camp there were the eight In- 
dians ; they Avere CroAvs and all old friends of mine ; AA'-ere 
cn a horse-stealing trip against the Sioux. They re- 
mained two or three days making medicine. 
The snow now being nearly all gone, I concluded to 
move on. Lowery had made up his mind to go on to the 
Csntonment, so I would now have company the remain- 
der of the way. 
We Avere noAV in the most dangerous portion of the 
Indian country. On Pryor Creek, about tAventy miles 
further doAvn the river, were two men trapping, or sup- 
posed to be, but just Avhere on the creek we did not know, 
but Ave hoped to strike them. 
We bade Moore and Daniels good-by, and with some 
bread, a little salt, coffee and tobacco, started for the Can- 
tonment on the sixth day of March. As Ave had plenty of 
timber, Ave concluded to travel during the day for the 
jjresent, and at night when we got out of timber. In the 
j-fternoon it clouded up, got colder and had the appear- 
ance of another storm, and pretty soon the snow began 
to fall and by seven o'clock, Avhen Ave reached the mouth 
of Pryor Creek, the snow Avas falling fast and already 
r.bout two inches deep. We went up the creek probably 
a mile and not seeing any signs of Hubble ;.nd Cox, Ave 
concluded to camp. 
We had just got our horses snugly cached in the head 
of a quaking asp hollow, when we Avere startled by a 
Avhole volley of rifle shots, at least fifty having been 
fired, and apparently about half a mile above us. Pretty 
scon bang, bang, Avent two rifles. In a fcAV minutes an- 
other roll of rifles, followed by the bang, bang of the tAVO 
rifles again. It told the tale as plainly as if we could 
see it. the Indians had attacked the camp of Cox and 
Hubble. We must get there and yet there quick. Almost 
before we could move came another roll of rifles foUoAved 
by the bang of one lone gun. There ! one of the boys is 
killed. A fcAv minutes more, and Avhile Ave were on our 
Avay to the rescue, came another roll of rifles, followed by 
no response. We stopped, heard the Indians yelling, and 
Ave kncAV the battle was OA^er. We retraced our steps, as 
it Avas noAV getting quite dark and snoAving so fast you 
could only see a fcAV feet We concluded to wait until 
morning and then go up the creek and find the camp and 
bodies of the tAvo men, Avho we Avere satisfied were killed. 
We left the horses and took our bedding near the bank of 
the creek, making our bed on the snoAv. The bank Avas 
quite steep doAvn to ice, and Avould make a fine place to 
fight from, in case we had to. In the most lonely place 
oi:e could Avell imagine among some rose brier bushes, we 
made our bed and crawled in, with our clothes on and 
cartridge belts and rifles by our sides and Avith a wagon 
sheet over us. We Avere soon covered by a Avhite quilt 
of snow, and to find us one Avould have been obliged co 
walk right on top of us. It was some time; before I went 
to sleep. As I lay there I was thinking of an old, old 
man named Jackson, whom I had known in Kentucky 
Avhen a boy only six or seven years old, and how I en- 
joyed to hear him tell, as I sat upon his knee, tales of the 
early settling of Kentucky, and give accounts of Indians 
and hunting which I then supposed Avas Avay back in old 
times and gone never to be again; and here I Avas, 
twenty-five years afterAvard, in more of an Indian country 
and amopg wQ.rs? Indians apd b?tt?r armed th^n either he 
