26 
FOREST AND STREAM. 
[July 9, 1904. 
•HAN TOURIST 
The Is-pit-si Cavalry. 
When the American Fur Company wound up its affairs 
in 1865 and retired from business, many of the firm's old 
employes engaged in the Indian trade for themselves, or 
became wolfers and beaver trappers. Fort Benton was 
their headquarters. Each spring from far away St. Louis 
came, a flotilla of steamboats loaded with goods, and later 
departed down stream, still more heavily loaded with 
bales of buffalo robes and furs. All through the long, hot 
summer the traders and wolfers loafed about the town, 
gambling, drinking, and dancing — those so inclined — the 
more staid ones simply idling away the time and impa- 
tiently counting the days until cold weather should again 
bring out the prime dark fur of the buffalo, the beaver, 
and the wolf. And when that time came, out they scat- 
tered over the broad plains, some with bull or mule trains, 
some with just a wagonload of goods drawn by four 
horses ; others with one or two good saddle horses and a 
few pack animals. Out into the basin of the Judith, west- 
ward along the foot of the Rockies, north to the Marios 
and its tributaries, or east to the Bear's Paw and Little 
Rockies or the valley of Milk River, they followed the 
Indians and the vast herds of buffalo, to trade for robes 
or to poison wolves and trap beavers. 
It was a hazardous life they led. The traders handled 
mainly "fire-water," and many a one lost his life at the 
hands of the warriors whom he had crazed with the 
potent spirits. The wolfers and trappers, by ones and 
twos making the round of their baits and traps, and 
always extremely cautious, were frequently ambushed or 
cut off from camp by some, war party of a hostile tribe, 
and their bones soon bleached in the bright prairie sun. 
Yet the rewards were so great that they unhesitatingly 
took the risk ; better a short life with plenty of money, 
they reasoned, than a long life of drudgery and penury. 
It was in 1871 that a new enemy appeared in the field — 
an enemy whom the traders learned to' dread far more 
than they did a whole camp of drink-crazed Indians. 
This was one Charles Hardin, a recently appointed United 
States Deputy Marshal, and the first one they had ever 
met or heard of who could not be bribed to allow them to 
carry on their unlawful business. North of Fort Benton 
to the as yet undetermined boundary of Canada, eastward 
for hundreds of miles, the very heart of the game coun- 
try, was Indian land, and the Government had decreed 
that anyone who sold liquor to an Indian or was found 
with it in his possession in the Indian country, should have 
his property confiscated, and be fined and imprisoned. 
And this new marshal meant to enforce the law! Of 
course they could have killed and thus got rid of him ; 
but rough as these men were, used to scenes of blood and 
quick to< anger, all and each of them were above the 
taking of a white man's life except in defense of -jtheir 
own.. In other words, they had an unwritten code of 
honor and morals— the frontiersman's code — which they 
respected and religiously followed. It was not wrong to 
sell Indians liquor, although the Government prohibited 
it; but it was wrong to cheat at cards, to lie, to steal an- 
other man's woman, and above all, to take the life of a 
fellow white man except in strict self-defense. 
Healy & Hamilton — the same John Healy who was 
afterwards the sheriff of Chouteau county, Montana, for 
so many terms, and the man who has since carved out an 
immense fortune in Alaskan transportation, trade, and 
mining — this firm was the first to hit upon a plan whereby 
they could circumvent the obnoxious marshal. They 
went over into Canada and built a trading post at the 
junction of the St. Mary's and Belly rivers, which they 
later named Fort Whoop-up, as they had an immense 
trade, sold great quantities of liquor to the Indians, and 
"generally whooped things up." True, there was always 
the risk of the marshal catching their northbound liquor- 
laden teams before they could get safely into- Canada; 
but then, one had to run some chances in any business. 
One by one the other traders followed this firm's lead, 
and located in what is now the southern part of the Ter- 
ritory of Alberta, Canada.. Kipp & Thomas built Fort 
Kipp, at the junction of the Belly and Old Man's rivers, 
and Fort Standoff up the Belly River some thirty miles. 
T. C. Power & Bro. also built a post near Fort Kipp, 
which was managed by a man named Williams. Up on 
High River, near the foot of the Rockies, were several 
traders and a number of wolfers and trappers. 
For a time trade could not have been better, but along 
in the fall of 1873 the outlook for a good winter's busi- 
ness was net encouraging. There seemed to be as many 
buffalo as ever, and plenty of other game and fur, but the 
Indians — the Blackfeet, Bloods and Sir-cis — had become 
so badly dissipated that they no longer hunted with their 
old time vigor and enthusiasm. Having fewer and fewer 
robes to trade, but an ever-increasing and unquenchable 
thirst, they had been selling their horses for liquor until 
some lodges had parted with their last animal. Becom- 
ing quite desperate, some of the wilder element of the 
camps had murdered several wolfers and trappers and 
plundered their outfits. Something had to be done; a 
meeting was held by the High River men and an organ- 
ization formed to suppress the sale of repeating rifles — .66 
model Winchesters — to< the Indians. A well-known firm 
of traders — I. G. Baker & Co. — recommended this policy, 
and were the first to sign an agreement pledging them- 
selves to observe the restriction decided upon under 
penalty of the confiscation of their goods. Other traders- 
in that vicinity also signed the paper, and then it was 
brought down to the Belly and Kooteny River country by 
a deputation of wolfers for the signatures of the remain- 
ing traders. Old Harry Taylor — peace to his ashes — was 
the leader of the crowd. He was better known as "Kah- 
moos" — The Thief — a name the Blackfeet had given him. 
When the agreement was presented at Whoop-up, 
Healy read it and then handed it back to the deputation. 
"I shall not sign it," he said quietly. "I am here to trade, 
and have a large stock of Henry rifles on hand which I 
shall dispose of to any who want them, Indians or 
white." 
"Johnny," said Taylor, "don't be hasty; this is no jok- 
ing matter. At our meeting up- on High River it was de- 
cided that any trader who refused to sign this paper 
should have his goods confiscated." 
Healy smiled, and there were several present who knew 
what that smile meant. He always smiled grimly when 
his_ ire was aroused, albeit the steely glint in his eyes 
belied the smile. 
"Kah-moos," he replied, "when your Is-pit-si cavalry 
are quite ready, come down and try your confiscation 
plan ; we'll be here to receive you." 
And thus it was that the organization got its name : 
Is-pit-si — e-tuk-tai in Blackfoot — is High River. Healy 
had dubbed them the "High" cavalry. 
Kipp & Thomas, John Weatherwax, and Power & 
Bros.' trader, Williams, signed the agreement, but the 
cavalry returned home without the signature of Healy 
& Hamilton. 
One day a number of Blood Indians came into the 
Power's post to trade. The women were laden with 
bundles of well tanned prime head and tail buffalo robes, 
which they unslung from their backs and unrolled with 
sighs of relief ; ten or twelve robes were a heavy burden. 
Among other things, three of the Indians wished to pur- 
chase each a Henry carbine and two hundred rounds of 
cartridges. Williams was in despair. He dared not sell 
them, and the thought of losing thirty-six fine robes — a 
clear profit of something like $175 — was almost unbear- 
able. "Well, well," he cried, walking back and forth and 
ruffling his hair. "Tell them," he finally said to- his inter- 
preter, "that I can't sell them any rifles or cartridges — 
that none of the traders will do so — so they had better 
buy something else — whiskey, blankets, grub, anything 
but guns." 
"Very well," one of the Indians replied, when the 
trader's decision had been made known to them. "If you 
will not sell us the guns, we will not trade for anything. 
It is not far down to the next post (Healy & Hamilton's), 
where we can buy what we want." 
John Forgey — "Long" John, one of Williams' em- 
ployes — thought he saw a way to save the trade. "I didn't 
sign the agreement," he said to' Williams, "so- the Is-pit-si 
cavalry can't harm me. Charge my account with the guns 
and cartridges, and I'll trade for the robes, and later you 
can give me credit for the amount." 
That seemed to Williams an easy way out of the 
dilemma ; so the Indians got the guns, purchased besides 
some liquor and a lot of goods, and returned home well 
satisfied. 
In less than a week, however, Williams was visited by 
another deputation from High River. "We hear," said 
Kah-moos, "that you have broken your agreement — that 
you have sold three Henry guns and some cartridges to 
the Bloods. How is it?" 
"You are mistaken," Williams replied. "I have not 
sold a rifle, nor cartridges, either, to anyone since you 
were last here." 
"But the Bloods have three new guns, which they say 
the purchased from you. How do you account for that?" 
Before Williams could answer, Long John produced the 
ledger, opened at his account : "You will see," he said, 
pointing to the particular item, "that I am charged with 
three carbines and six hundred cartridges. Well, I sold 
them to the Bloods. I was not included in your agree- 
ment ; I did not sign it, and I had a right to do so." _ 
The members of the cavalry drew a little apart and dis- 
cussed the case, and finally informed Williams that they 
considered him responsible for the actions of his em- 
ploye. "Therefore," the leader concluded, "we contend 
that you have forfeited your goods. We will be down 
again to-morrow evening with our wagons and haul them 
away. In the meantime, be sure you don't cache any- 
thing; if you do, you may expect pretty rough treatment." 
Williams was fairly distracted. After the cavalry rode 
away, he walked up and down the trade room, wringing 
his hands and bemoaning the fate which had enticed him 
into such a wild country and among such lawless men. . 
"I have never liked the business," he said to Long John, 
and I cannot stand it another hour. You may consider 
yourself in full charge here, for I am going- to saddle my 
horse and start for Fort Benton at once." 
Forgey refused to assume the responsibility, and sug- 
gested that if Williams really intended to leave, he had 
better try to get Healy to take charge until the firm could 
send someone out from Fort Benton. Williams agreed to 
this, and losing no time in saddling his horse, he started 
at once for Fort Benton, via Whoop-up, where he suc- 
ceeded in getting Healy to take charge of the post. The 
firm dealt largely with T. C. Power & Bro., and Healy 
felt under obligations to help them out of a tight place. 
Moreover, Healy was longing for a chance to meet the 
men who seemed to be running the country regardless of 
law or justice. He tried first, however, to induce Wil- 
liams to return to his post, pointing out that it was the 
height of cowardice for a man to so abandon the im- 
portant position his employers had given him. Williams 
would not listen to arguments nor reason, and suddenly 
realizing that he would likely be waylaid by a war party 
on the trail south, begged to be allowed to remain at 
Whoop-up until he could join some outfit going in. 
"No, sir," Healy replied. "You either return to your 
place or you hit the trail out of here in five minutes. 
This post shelters no cowards." 
So Williams went on south, and, to every one's sur- 
prise, he arrived safely at Fort Benton, not even seeing 
an Indian on the way. From Benton he took passage in 
a mackinaw for the "States," and never returned; the 
frontier was not the place for such as he. 
Long John and the interpreter passed a restless evening 
and night, but early the next morning Healy drove up to 
the post and in his wagon was one of the Whoop-up guns 
— a mounted six-pounder brass cannon. There were a 
number of employes at Fort Whoop-up, but not one of 
them had accompanied him. Long John wondered what 
was to be the plan of defense, but he asked no questions 
as he helped unhitch the team and unload the cannon. 
On each side of the trade room was a store room, one 
of which was still empty, as the winter's trade had but just 
commenced. Along the back wall of the empty one Healy 
and John built a bench, full length of the room, and this 
was the only article of furniture in it; one or two empty 
boxes, and anything else that would answer for a seat 
were taken out. The cannon was then heavily charged 
with a sackful of trade balls on top of the well rammed 
powder, and run in behind the high counter, and a hole 
of the proper size and height was cut in the partition, 
which allowed the gun to- be trained so as to command 
the length of the bench. The hole was then covered with 
an old coat, carelessly hung over it. 
"Sacre !" the interpreter exclaimed. "But it ees ze 
beautiful scheme; wiz one shot ze Is-pet-se cavalree will 
be potted, an' as ze dam Pied Noirs say, 'ak' ahk-si im- 
mot-stan' — eet will one gran' clean up be." 
Long John was a youth in those days — a mere boy 
fresh from a peaceful Nebraska farm, and his eyes fairly 
bulged when he comprehended Healy's plan. "Mr. Healy, 
are you going to get those men to sit on that bench and 
then shoot that sackful of balls into 'em?" he asked. 
"I am," Healy replied, "unless I can argue them out of 
attempting to loot this place. After I get them into the 
room and seated on the bench you are going to- stand by 
the cannon, and if you hear me say, or begin to say, this 
sentence — 'Gentlemen, since you will not listen to reason, 
you must take the consequences' — if you hear me begin 
that, you are to pull the string I have attached to the 
fusee, and fire the cannon. Do> you savey?" 
"Yes, sir," John- replied, "I savey, and I'll sure pull the 
string. These here Is-pit-si cavalry are nothing but a 
gang of robbers, and they ought to> be blown up." 
"Right you are, boy; they're robbers, all right; yet, to 
do them justice, we must concede that they believe — 
really believe — they are doing the best thing they can to 
insure their safety." 
About four o'clock the crowd arrived — twenty of them 
• — some on horseback, some driving four-horse teams. It 
was easy to' to see that they were surprised and some- 
what taken aback to find Healy in charge of the place, 
and to learn that Williams had left the country. It was 
a raw, cloudy day, and Healy invited them into the empty 
room, where a bright fire was burning in the open chim- 
ney-place. 
"Well, boys," said he, "even if we do differ about some 
things, there is no reason why we should not have a little 
drink together, is there?" and he brought out a keg and 
a cup, which were passed around. One by one each man 
poured out what liquor he wanted, solemnly said, "How !" 
and swallowed it. And gradually, one by one, after warm- 
ing before the fire-place, they naturally sauntered across 
the room and sat down on the long bench. 
Then Healy began to' talk, walking up and down before 
them, stopping now and then to emphasize a point in his 
argument. His main contention was that the very firm 
which had proposed the restriction in trading firearms 
and cartridges were taking robes and furs for them right 
along and giving the Indians orders on their southern 
post for the weapons, and that if an Indian really wanted 
a gun or cartridges, he did not mind a two hundred mile 
ride after them. Then he appealed to their pride. "You 
are all old-timers," he said. "You have roamed these 
western plains for years, and beat the Indians at their 
own game when they were as bad, and worse, than they 
are now, when more and better armed war parties were 
abroad. And are you going to have it said of you at this 
late day that you dared not go out to wolf and trap until 
you had bulldozed the traders and' stopped the sale of 
arms to the Indians? 
"And if you should succeed in enforcing this restric- 
tion out here, and confiscate the goods in this post, what 
would your friends in Fort Benton think of you? Would 
you have any friends left there? Not one of you but has 
some time or other gone to the owners of these goods and 
purchased what you wanted from them on credit ; many 
pf you to-day owe the firm for your winter's outfit; they 
