“It is in the main an exceedingly fine grazing country, of great salubrity of climate, much arable land of good quality, with abundant cottonwood on the streams, and many localities abound in pine of the finest quality. A portion of the country is scantily watered, but not seriously to affect its capabilities as a grazing country, or to interfere with emigration. At the base of the mountains, throughout nearly the whole length of the Blackfoot country, the soil is good, in many places exceedingly rich, and the grasses abundant and of the finest quality. At the heads of Milk and Marias rivers, and at the heads of all the southern tributaries of the south branch of the Saskatchewan, between latitudes 48° 30´ and 49°, there are abundant forests of pine, large tracts of arable land, and lakes well stocked with fish. On the Highwood alone, there are at least fifteen thousand acres of arable land.
“So far from this country not being able to supply the wants of even a limited emigration, an emigration could not possibly take place which would exhaust its capabilities.
“The quantities of buffalo which these plains subsist, not to take into account the vast herds of elk, deer, bighorn, antelope, and other game, will alone carry conviction that the territory inhabited by the Blackfeet is a good grazing country.
“The Blackfeet live almost exclusively on the buffalo. They number above ten thousand souls. They make twenty thousand robes a year. They require nearly twenty thousand skins for their renewal of lodges annually and other purposes. All these are the skins of cows. For several months they live entirely on bulls, and many bulls are killed at all seasons of the year. Making the proper allowance for animals that die of disease, are killed by wolves, or other causes, and for the known improvidence of Indians, it is believed that one hundred and fifty thousand buffalo of three years old and upward are required each year to subsist, clothe, and house these Indians. This number must be added each year to the herds of grown animals to prevent a decrease. Estimating that three quarters of the cows bear young, and that one half of these come to maturity, eight hundred thousand buffalo of and above three years, and one million and a half buffalo of all ages must be roaming on these plains to enable the Indians to live. Yet, on a large portion of this region the grass is hardly touched from one year’s end to another.
“The whole of the Gros Ventres and nearly three fourths of the Piegans, Bloods, and Blackfeet winter on the Milk, Marias, and Teton, finding subsistence for their animals in the bottoms, and food from the buffalo which frequent the groves of cottonwood.
“They are called savages, yet their four tribes have lived together many years on terms of amity, making war only on the neighboring tribes. The chiefs, who promised the undersigned two years’ since to use their influence to prevent their people from warring on the neighboring tribes, have been true to their word, and have in some cases incurred the displeasure of their wild young men for their persistency. These chiefs, and all the Blackfoot chiefs, have sent word to their hereditary enemies, the Flatheads, the Nez Perces, and the Crows: ‘Come to the council without fear. Your persons and your horses shall be under our protection, and if a horse be taken by some of our wild young men, his place shall at once be made good.’ The undersigned looks forward to no disturbance at the council, for he believes the Blackfeet will keep their word.
“The Blackfeet have expressed a strong desire for farms, schools, mills, and shops. They are quick to learn, have a great curiosity to handle tools and implements, and are excellent herders of animals. The women are proverbially industrious, many of them expert in the use of the needle, and persons of both sexes seem to fall readily into the ways of the whites.”
By his careful preparation for two years, and masterly handling of them, Governor Stevens brought and kept these various tribes of Indians within easy distance of Fort Benton, all ready and anxious for the council, and in the most friendly and favorable state of feeling, during the whole month of August and half of September, fully six weeks. Had the goods arrived at any time during this waiting period, not less than 12,000 Indians would have attended the council, comprising 10,000 Blackfeet, 1100 Nez Perces, 700 Flatheads and Pend Oreilles, and 400 Snakes, the western Indians numbering 2200. But it now became impossible for the latter to remain longer on the Muscle Shell and Judith, for lack of game. The buffalo had disappeared. The grass was drying up. No day could yet be fixed for the council in the uncertainty of the arrival of the boats. On September 8 the Nez Perce camp of one hundred and three lodges, in charge of agent Tappan, was obliged to start southward for the Yellowstone, hoping to find buffalo. Tappan wrote that, unless the council was held within three weeks, not twelve Nez Perces would be able to attend it. Eagle-from-the-Light and other chiefs, with several lodges, joined the Flathead camp in order not to miss the council. But on September 10 agent Adams reported that the Flatheads might in twelve or fourteen days be obliged, also, to go to the Yellowstone for food. The Snake camp also moved to the same region for the same cause. In compliance with his instructions, Adams made a trip to the Yellowstone in search of the Crows, and descended it to a point below the Big Horn River, where he met Tappan with some Nez Perces on the same quest. But these Indians could not be found. It was reported that, in consequence of the measles having broken out among them and many having died, they had scattered, a part going down the river and part taking to the mountains.
To prevent, if possible, the failure of the whole council undertaking, now imminent, the governor dispatched Packmaster Higgins with a few picked men to visit both camps, and notify them that October 3, or a few days later, was fixed for holding the council, and directing them to move to the vicinity of Fort Benton, and to find camps on the Shantier and Highwood creeks. Mr. Tappan was also instructed to secure, if possible, the attendance of the principal Crow chiefs.
On the fourth day out Higgins met Adams and Tappan returning to Fort Benton, despairing of the council, but the former hastened back to the Flatheads with the new orders, while Tappan joined Higgins, and, with Craig, Delaware Jim, and the voyageur Legare, pushed across the country and struck the Nez Perce camp high up on the Yellowstone. Although none of the party had ever passed over this part of the country before, Delaware Jim was so thoroughly conversant with the Yellowstone country and the upper Missouri, and certain mountain heights flanking the route, that he actually guided them on an air-line, and struck the looked-for camp without making a detour of a mile on the course, and that, too, traveling fifty miles a day.
As the result of this prompt and decided action, Adams reached Fort Benton October 3, and reported that Victor’s whole camp would soon be on the Judith, and that Victor himself, leaving his camp there, would come with his chiefs and principal men to Fort Benton to attend the council. On the 5th Higgins and Tappan arrived, and at noon next day a large delegation of Nez Perce chiefs, under charge of Craig, also came in, but did not bring the large numbers in their camp, for fear they could not find sufficient game to feed them. Tappan was unable to learn anything of the Crows except the report already mentioned. The Snakes, too, had gone beyond reach, and could not be summoned. In the mean time the northern bands of the Blackfeet, in accordance with the programme arranged by Mr. Doty, had been moving down, and were now all on the Teton and Marias rivers. The Gros Ventres were on Milk River. Low Horn’s and Little Gray Head’s bands of the Piegans were on the Honkee. Alexander, the Pend Oreille chief’s camp, was established on the Highwood. The buffalo were in great numbers between the Marias and Milk, and herds of them were coming within twenty miles of Fort Benton. “The arrival of the Nez Perces,” says the governor, “brought all the Indians within the direct purview of the commission, and the most remote camps, those of the Flatheads and Gros Ventres, could be reached in a single day.” These two camps were some seventy-five miles distant each, in different directions, and the area within which the Indians were now brought was little less than the State of Massachusetts, not counting the large Nez Perce camp on the Yellowstone.
Even yet the boats had not reached the Judith, could not reach it probably before the 8th, thirty-seven days from the Muscle Shell, instead of twenty as promised. It would require twenty-five days longer to drag them up the river another hundred miles to Fort Benton. The Blackfeet and the western Indians had now been freely mingling together for several days, and it was important that their present favorable disposition should be availed of. Accordingly Governor Stevens proposed to hold the council on the mouth of the Judith, and upon his urgency and arguments it was so decided on the evening of the 5th, the day the Nez Perce chiefs arrived, and the 13th was fixed as the time. The necessary measures to assemble the Indians at that point were devolved upon the governor as usual, and also to notify the boats to stop and unload there. By the 7th all the camps were notified, the Flatheads being already on the appointed ground, and most of the chiefs conferred with the governor in person, who, during these days, held a constant levee in his camp at the fort. The northern camps, however, were unwilling to move seventy miles farther than they expected, with their large supplies of meat recently taken, and it was decided that the chiefs, with a portion of their people, should attend, leaving the main camps undisturbed.
The governor relates the following incident:—
“My son Hazard, thirteen years of age, had accompanied me from Olympia to the waters of the Missouri. Like all youths of that age, he was always ready for the saddle, and had spent some days with one of my hunting parties on the Judith, where he had become well acquainted with the Gros Ventres. When we determined to change the council from Fort Benton to the mouth of the Judith, I undertook the duty of seeing the necessary messages sent to the various bands and tribes, and to bring them all to the mouth of the Judith at the proper moment. These Indians were scattered from Milk River, near Hammell’s Houses, along the Marias, along the Teton, to a considerable distance south of the Missouri, the Flatheads being on the Judith, and the Pend Oreilles on Smith’s Fork of the Missouri, with two bands of the Blackfeet lying somewhat intermediate, but in the vicinity of the Girdle Mountain. I succeeded in securing the services of a fit and reliable man for each one of these bands and tribes, except the Gros Ventres, camped on Milk River. There were several men, who had considerable experience among Indians and in voyageuring, who desired to go, but I had not confidence in them, and accordingly, at ten o’clock on Sunday morning, I started my little son as a messenger to the Gros Ventres. Accompanied by the interpreter, Legare, he made that Gros Ventre camp before dark, a distance of seventy-five miles, and gave his message the same evening to the chiefs, and without changing horses they were in the saddle early in the morning, and reached my camp at half past three o’clock. Thus a youth of thirteen traveled one hundred and fifty measured miles from ten o’clock of one day to half past three o’clock in the afternoon of the next. The Gros Ventres made their marches exactly as I had desired, and reached the new council ground at the mouth of the Judith the very morning which had been appointed.
“I doubt whether such an express service as we were obliged to employ at Fort Benton to keep the Indians in hand was ever employed in this country with the same means. Many of our animals, which had done service all the way from the Dalles, traveled at express rates more than a thousand miles before we started on our return from Fort Benton. Many of our mules traveled from seven to eight hundred miles with packs in going to the boats for provisions and to the hunting grounds for meat; and yet, after our treaty was concluded and we were ready to move home, we were able to make very good rates with these same animals, although the season was so late as November.”
To realize the remarkable extent and efficiency of this express service, bear in mind Doty’s trip to Bow River, three hundred miles north of Fort Benton; Tappan’s and Adams’s and Higgins’s to the Yellowstone, two hundred miles southeast; and the expresses down the river to the boats, one hundred and fifty miles; not to speak of Pearson’s trip to Olympia, one thousand miles. It was as though one in New York, without telegraphs, railroads, or mails, had to regulate by pony express the movements of bands of Indians at Boston, Portland, Montreal, Buffalo, and Washington.
After spending four days in conferences with the chiefs, explaining the reasons for changing the council ground, etc., the governor broke camp on the 10th, and on the next day, Thursday, reached the point where the boats were unloading, a mile below the mouth of the Judith, selected and prepared the council ground, and received and assigned to their camps the Indians as they arrived. His colleague descended the river in a skiff, and did not arrive until the following Saturday. By Monday all the Indians had assembled, and numbered thirty-five hundred.
On Tuesday Governor Stevens formally opened the council. The Indians, as usual on such occasions, “reposed on the bosom of their mother,” that is, sat on the ground in semicircular rows, twenty-six principal chiefs in the first row, lesser chiefs in succeeding rows, and the rank and file in the rear. The governor administered the oath to the interpreters to translate truly, having first inquired of the Indians if they were satisfied with them and received an affirmative reply.
Governor Stevens said:—
“My children, my heart is glad to-day. I see Indians east of the mountains and Indians west of the mountains sitting here as friends, Bloods, Blackfeet, Piegans, Gros Ventres, and Nez Perces, Koo-te-nays, Pend Oreilles, Flatheads; and we have the Cree chief sitting down here from the north and east, and Snakes farther from the west. There is peace now between you all here present. We want peace also with absent tribes, with the Crees and Assiniboines, with the Snakes, and, yes, even with the Crows. You have all sent your message to the Crows, telling them you would meet them in friendship here. The Crows were far, and could not be present, but we expect you to promise to be friends with the Crows.
“It was Low Horn who, two years since, said to me, ‘Peace with the Flatheads and Nez Perces.’ The Little Dog, Little Gray Head, and all the Blackfoot chiefs said, ‘Peace with them; come and meet us in council,’ and here they are. Here you see them face to face. I met them the same year. I told them your words. They said, ‘Peace also with the Blackfeet.’ And the Great Father has said, ‘Peace with the Crees and Assiniboines, the Crows, and all neighboring tribes.’
“I shall say nothing about peace with the white man. No white man enters a Blackfoot or a western Indian’s lodge without being treated to the very best. Peace already prevails. We trust such will continue to be the case forever. We have been traveling over your whole country, both to the east and west of the mountains, in small parties, ranging away north to Bow River, and south to the Yellowstone. We have kept no guard. We have not tied up our horses. All has been safe. Therefore I say peace has been, is now, and will continue, between these Indians and the white man.”
The treaty was then read to them, after which the governor went over its provisions, explaining them, etc.
The council lasted three days. The best feeling prevailed, all the chiefs making earnest and sincere speeches in favor of peace, contrasting the advantages of hunting in safety and trading between the tribes with the continual losses of their young braves and the steady decline in numbers from perpetual war, although some of them expressed doubts as to restraining the ambitious young warriors. Only one passing shadow was cast over the assemblage, and that but for a moment. The treaty made all the country south of the Missouri a common hunting ground for all the tribes, while the country north of the river was to be reserved to the Blackfeet for hunting purposes, although open to the western Indians for trading and visiting. To this restriction Alexander, the Pend Oreille chief, demurred. Said he:—
“A long time ago this country belonged to our ancestors, and the Blackfeet lived far north. We Indians were all well pleased when we came together here in friendship. Now you point us out a little piece of land to hunt our game in. When we were enemies I always crossed over there, and why should I not now when we are friends? Now I have two hearts about it. What is the reason? Which of these chiefs [pointing to the Blackfeet] says we are not to go there? Which is the one?”
The Little Dog, a Piegan chief: “It is I, and not because we have anything against you. We are friendly, but the north Blackfeet might make a quarrel if you hunted near them. Do not put yourself in their way.”
On Alexander’s insisting, the Little Dog said:—
“Since he speaks so much of it, we will give him liberty to come out in the north.”
Alexander’s contention will be better understood by considering the fact that his country, on the Flathead River and Clark’s Fork, lies directly opposite the region of the upper Marias, and that by going directly east across the mountains through the Marias Pass he could reach buffalo in a short trip, while the journey to the plains south of the Missouri was a much longer one.
On the last day the commissioners and the chiefs and headmen of all the tribes present signed the treaty amid the greatest satisfaction and good feeling. During the next three days, October 18–20, the presents were distributed, and coats and medals were presented to the chiefs, with speeches by the commissioners, exhorting them to keep their promises to their Great Father, and control their young braves. The several tribes fraternized most amicably throughout all these proceedings, particularly the Flatheads and Gros Ventres,—who had hunted together and exchanged friendly visits for many weeks on the Muscle Shell,—the Nez Perces and Piegans, and the Bloods and Pend Oreilles. Though the Crows were not present, the Indians pledged themselves not to war upon them, nor upon any of the neighboring tribes. The officers of this council were: Isaac I. Stevens and Alfred Cumming, commissioners; James Doty, secretary; Thomas Adams and A.J. Vaughan, reporters. The interpreters were: James Bird, A. Culbertson, and M. Roche, for the Blackfeet; Benjamin Kiser, G. Sohon, for the Flatheads; William Craig, Delaware Jim, for the Nez Perces.
The treaty was much more than a treaty of peace as far as the Blackfeet were concerned, for it gave them schools, farms, agricultural implements, etc., and an agent, and annuities of $35,000 for ten years, of which $15,000 was devoted to educating them in agriculture and to teaching the children. At the last moment the governor induced Cumming to agree to a clause empowering the President and Senate to increase the annuities $15,000 more, if the amount fixed in the treaty was deemed insufficient. It contained the usual provision prohibiting intoxicating liquor. The extensive region between the Missouri and Yellowstone was made the common hunting ground of all the tribes. All agreed to maintain peace with each other, including those tribes that were unable to be present, the Crows, Crees, Assiniboines, and Snakes. The treaty was made obligatory on the Indians from their signing it, and on the United States from its ratification, which occurred the next spring, and it was duly proclaimed by the President on April 25, 1856.
The tribes actually parties to this treaty numbered, by the commissioners’ calculation, Blackfeet, 11,500; Nez Perces, 2500; Flathead nation, 2000; total 16,000. Nearly all of their chiefs and principal men attended the council and signed the treaty.
The peace made at this council was observed with gratifying fidelity in the main. The Blackfeet ceased their incessant and bloody raids, and met their former enemies on friendly terms upon the common hunting grounds. Within a few years, in 1862–63, large white settlements sprang up on the headwaters of the Missouri, but they were spared the horrors and sufferings of Indian warfare with so powerful a tribe largely in consequence of this treaty. The council, which Governor Stevens planned and carried out with such foresight, sagacity, and indefatigable exertions during two years, bore fruit at last in the perpetual peace he hoped for and predicted. Few treaties with Indians have been so well observed by them as this by the “bloodthirsty” Blackfeet. They took no part in the great Sioux wars, nor in the outbreak of Joseph. They were afterwards gathered together on a large reservation, including the country about the Sun River, where the governor proposed to establish their farms.
The council ground was a wide, level plain covered with a noble grove of huge cottonwoods. It was on the left bank of the Missouri, nearly opposite but below the mouth of the Judith. This stream was also bordered by broad bottoms, which were covered with large sage-brush, and fairly swarming with deer. The governor’s camp was pitched under the lofty cottonwoods, and lower down was the camp of the crew of men who had dragged the boats up the river. They were a hundred strong, mostly Germans, having many fine voices among them, and were fond of spending the evenings in singing. The effect of their grand choruses, pealing forth over the river and resounding among the lofty trees, was magnificent. In the governor’s camp an unusually large Indian lodge—a great cone of poles covered with dressed and smoke-stained buffalo skins—was erected and used as an office tent, where the records were copied and smaller conferences held. Every night between eleven and twelve, when the work of the day was concluded, the governor would call in the gentlemen of the party, a few chiefs, and some of the interpreters, and have a real Homeric feast of buffalo ribs, flapjacks with melted sugar, and hot coffee. Whole sides of ribs would be brought in, smoking-hot from the fire, and passed around, and each guest would cut off a rib for himself with his hunting knife, and sit there holding the huge dainty, three feet long, and tearing off thejuicy and delicious meat with teeth and knife, principally the former. No description can convey an idea of the hearty zest and relish and enjoyment, or the keen appetites, with which they met at these hospitable repasts, and recounted the varied adventures and experiences of their recent trips, or listened as Craig, Delaware Jim, or Ben Kiser related some thrilling tale of trapper days, or desperate fight with Indian or grizzly bear.
The other commissioner did not grace these reunions with his presence. Chafing at the constraint put upon him, and the secondary part which he could not help taking, despite all his pretensions, he kept his quarters on one of the boats, and relieved his mind by refusing to recommend the allowance of the governor’s accounts for the extra expenses necessarily incurred by the two months’ delay, the result of his own inefficiency; refused to allow Mr. Doty more than five dollars a day for his services as secretary, which pitiful stipend he took pains to call “wages;” and among other grievances complained that Governor Stevens had insinuated that he, Cumming, had shown a disposition to repudiate his own acts done in commission,—all this gravely set forth in official communications addressed to the Secretary, and made part of the record. This was too much for the governor’s patience, and he replied:—
“The undersigned has made no such intimation. On the contrary, in his communications to the commission he has demonstrated that Commissioner Cumming had repudiated his own act, and used every exertion to usurp the rights and powers of the commission, and reduce the undersigned to the position of a subordinate. Fortunately for the dignity of the commission and the success of the treaty, this attempt was most successfully resisted, and Commissioner Cumming was compelled to surrender his claims. Commissioner Stevens has no grievance for which he asks redress from the Department of the Interior. He has protected his own rights here.”
In the joint report forwarding the treaty, prepared like all the official papers by Governor Stevens, he states the disagreements between the commissioners on nearly every point, and adds:—
“So utterly at variance have been their views that it has only been with great difficulty that a concert of action has been effected at all.”
The governor’s last official communication to the secretary of the commission fitly expressed his indignation at the action of the department in naming Cumming first on the commission:—
“The undersigned solemnly protests against the instructions of the Commissioner of Indian Affairs placing the name of Commissioner Cumming first on the commission, and he appeals from said instructions to the President of the United States.
“The undersigned was, in his opinion, entitled to be placed first, and for the following reasons:—
“1. He originated the Blackfoot council, prepared the Indians on both sides of the mountains for it, and, for all practical purposes, has been the superintendent of all these tribes since he explored the country in 1853. He has appointed special agents for the Blackfeet, distributed goods and provisions among them, and in other ways has by authority of the Interior Department had the administrative charge of these tribes.
“2. He was the senior officer by date of priority of commission.
“3. He was better fitted, by experience and adaptation to the duties, to take a prominent part in the negotiations, and he fearlessly refers to the official record to show that the success of the treaty is mainly due to his previous labors, his forecast in bringing the necessary force to the theatre of the principal operations, and to the vigilance, energy, and force of character which he has exhibited throughout, and that thus was redressed the wrong which otherwise would have been done to the public service, and injury to the reputation and services of the undersigned, by placing his name second on the commission.”
James Bird Delaware Jim
Colonel Alfred Cumming
William Craig Alexander Culbertson
COMMISSIONER CUMMING AND INTERPRETERS
With this parting shot the governor bade a heartfelt farewell to the pretentious incapable, who had so nearly wrecked the council, and added so much to his labors and perplexities. Cumming started down the river on one of the boats on the 23d.
Having made a good riddance of his troublesome colleague, and seen the Indians depart their several ways with much hand-shaking and many expressions of goodwill and satisfaction, the governor and his little party packed up and started on the 24th, and reached Fort Benton the following day. Two days were spent here preparing for the long return journey across the mountains; for the animals were well worn by the hard express service of the summer, and it was necessary to lighten loads as much as possible. On October 28 the homeward start was made; the party moved over to and up the Teton, continued up that stream the 29th, and went into camp thirty-five miles from the fort.
Supper was just over, and the men were gathering around the camp-fires, for the evening was frosty, when a lone horseman was discerned in the twilight slowly making his way over the plains towards the camp, and soon Pearson rode in, or rather staggered in, for his horse was utterly exhausted, and tottered as it walked. The eager men crowded around, and helped the wiry expressman from the saddle and supported him to a seat, for he was unable to stand, and his emaciated, wild, and haggard appearance bore witness to the hardships he had undergone. He delivered his dispatches, and, after being revived with food and warmth, was able to make his report, and surely one more fraught with astonishment and consternation for that little party on the lonely plains, a thousand miles from home, could not be imagined.
The great tribes of the upper Columbia country, the Cuyuses, Yakimas, Walla Wallas, Umatillas, Palouses, and all the Oregon bands down to the Dalles, the very ones who had signed the treaties at the Walla Walla council and professed such friendship, had all broken out in open war. They had swept the upper country clean of whites, killing all the settlers and miners found there, and murdered agent Bolon under circumstances of peculiar atrocity. Major Haller, sent into the Yakima country with a hundred regulars and a howitzer, had been defeated and forced to retreat by Kam-i-ah-kan’s warriors, with the loss of a third of his force and his cannon. The Indians west of the Cascades had also risen simultaneously, and laid waste the settlements on Puget Sound and in Oregon, showing that a widespread conspiracy prevailed. The Spokanes and Cœur d’Alenes were hostile, or soon would become hostile under the spur and taunts of the young Cuyuse and Yakima warriors sent among them to stir them up, and even some of the Nez Perces were disaffected. A thousand well-armed and brave hostile warriors under Kam-i-ah-kan, Pu-pu-mox-mox, Young Chief, and Five Crows were gathered in the Walla Walla valley, waiting to “wipe out” the party on its return; squads of young braves were visiting the Nez Perces, Spokanes, and Cœur d’Alenes, vaunting their victories, displaying fresh gory scalps, and using every effort to cajole or force them into hostility to the whites.
The daring expressman’s story of how he ran the gauntlet of the hostile tribes with the dispatches and information upon which depended the lives of the party heightened the impression made by his wretched appearance and doleful tidings. He left the Dalles on his return trip, fresh and well mounted, and, riding all day and night, reached Billy McKay’s ranch on the Umatilla River at daylight, and stopped to get breakfast. The place was deserted. After eating he lassoed a fine powerful horse among a large band grazing near by, and after a hard struggle managed to saddle, bridle, and mount it. The steed was wild, and started off jumping stiff-legged. As Pearson rode from under the trees surrounding the house into the road, he saw a party of Indians racing down the hill into the valley, evidently on his trail, and heard their yells as they caught sight of him,—“Whup si-ah si-ah-poo! Whup si-ah!” “Kill the white man! Kill the white!”—and redoubled their speed in pursuit. His new mount proved of speed and bottom, and under whip and spur gave over his jumping for swift running. As he climbed the hill leading out of the valley on to the high plains and looked back, he again saw the red devils and heard their yells; and for mile after mile, from the top of every ridge and roll of the plains crossed by the trail, he would look back and see his pursuers, or the dust rising under the hoofs of their horses. But they could not lessen the distance between them; gradually they fell behind farther and farther, and at length were lost to sight. Pearson pushed his horse on all day as rapidly as it could stand without breaking down, and, when night fell, turned off the trail at right angles for several miles, then struck a course parallel to it, traveled all night, crossed the Walla Walla River and valley above the usual ford and crossings, and, having found a secluded depression in the plains beyond, stopped to rest and let his horse feed a couple of hours. Pushing on without further adventure, and exchanging his worn-out steed for a fresh one at Red Wolf’s ground, he reached Lapwai the next day. Here he obtained a day’s rest.
Thus refreshed, and securing fresh horses and a young Nez Perce brave as guide, he started across the Bitter Root Mountains by the direct Nez Perce trail, the shortest but also the most rugged and elevated route, and at dark made camp high up in the mountains. That night a furious snowstorm set in. A tree fell and crushed his Indian companion. Pearson dragged his insensible body from beneath the tree, and said to himself, “Now the Nez Perces, too, will break out. They never will believe this buck’s death was accidental. They will deem me his murderer, and always hunt my scalp after this.” But to his great joy the young Indian came to his senses, and proved not to be seriously hurt. The storm raged three days; several feet of snow fell, too deep for horses to travel. When it ceased, Pearson sent the Indian back with the horses, and, packing his dispatches, blankets, and some dried meat on his back, continued across on snowshoes, which he had made during the storm, cutting the bows with his knife, and unraveling his lariat for the webs. The trail was hidden under the snow, but he guided his course largely by the marks of packs against the trees made by Indians who had crossed in winter. Struggling on in this manner for four days, he emerged upon the Bitter Root valley near Fort Owen, almost dead with fatigue and privation. Stopping only a few hours for rest, and procuring a good horse and equipments from the ever friendly Flatheads, he again took the saddle, and on the third day staggered into the governor’s camp on the Teton.
The dispatches fully corroborated Pearson’s information. Among them were letters from Acting-Governor Mason, Colonel Simmons, Major Tilton, and others, warning the governor on no account to attempt to return home by the direct route across the mountains, and urging him to descend the Missouri and return by way of the Isthmus. He was assured that there were scarcely any troops in the country, that it was impossible to succor him, and equally impossible for him to get through so many hostile Indians, and that his only way of safety lay down the Missouri River.
Governor Stevens’s decision was instant and unwavering. It was to force his way back to his Territory by the direct route through all opposition and obstacles. He fully appreciated the perils and difficulties of the attempt, but his determination was unalterably fixed sternly to confront them all, and by a bold, decided course and rapid movements to force a passage through the hostile country and hostile savages.
Doty was sent back to the fort the next morning for additional arms and ammunition. At noon the following day, October 31, leaving orders for Doty to follow with the train on his return from the fort, the governor, with Delaware Jim and Hugh Robie, his only companions, started for the Bitter Root valley, and reached Fort Owen in four and a half days, a distance of two hundred and thirty miles. Says the governor of this trip:—
“The first night we camped on Sun River, having made a distance of some twenty-nine miles from about noon to sundown. On the 1st of November we were in the saddle at early dawn, pushed towards Cadotte’s Pass, between the Crown Butte and Rattlers, passed by the Bird Tail Rock, crossed the Dearborn, and went into camp four miles before reaching the divide, at a point which was the camp of Lieutenant Grover and Mr. Robie in their winter trip of 1854. This evening a snow came on about an hour before sundown, or we should have crossed the divide that night. The weather in the morning was clear and beautiful, but as we had no tent, we built up a large fire in order to dry ourselves, and got breakfast before leaving camp, and at half past eight we were on the road. There were some six or seven inches of snow on the ground, but the weather was extremely mild, and the snow was rapidly passing away. I went up the divide on the ravine north of the usual trail, and was able to find a very good route for our animals. There was little or no snow on the western slope of the divide; continuing down the Blackfoot valley five and one half miles, the snow was only an inch or two deep, and entirely passed away before we reached Lander’s Fork. We halted on Lander’s Fork for a few minutes to rest our animals; then, moving very rapidly through the Belly prairie and cañon, we came out on the large prairie of the Blackfoot at a little after dark, camping where I had camped with Lieutenant Donelson in 1853. The next day we were in the saddle early, and, moving over this prairie at a very rapid rate, ate breakfast at a point some eighteen miles from our morning’s camp, and made our evening camp within about ten miles of the Hell Gate crossing to Fort Owen. The next day we reached Fort Owen, meeting at the crossing some Indians, by whom I was able to communicate with Dr. Lansdale. On our way to Fort Owen we met a Nez Perce delegation on their way home, and made arrangements to meet them at the crossing of Hell Gate, in order to confer about difficulties ahead. After waiting a day at Fort Owen, I moved down to and established my camp at Hell Gate, to await the arrival of Mr. Doty. Just before reaching the Dearborn River, Delaware Jim shot a deer, but on going up to it they were surprised to find a well-grown fawn lying dead beside it, killed by the same ballet as it stood beside and concealed by its mother.”
Many of the Flatheads came with Dr. Lansdale in response to the governor’s summons to confer with him at this camp, and the conference with them and also with the Nez Perce chiefs was most satisfactory. In response to the governor’s request to the latter that some of their number would accompany him, the whole delegation, fourteen in number, offered to do so, and declared their willingness to share any danger that might be encountered, and accordingly joined the party. Says the governor:—
“I was here able to gain no additional information of the condition of the Indian tribes between the Cascade Mountains and the Bitter Root, but the reports were that all were in arms except the Nez Perces, a large portion of whom were said to be disaffected, and some of them even hostile. I now purchased every good mule and horse I could get in this valley, for it was my determination to have my whole command in a position so that they could move rapidly and act promptly. The question was, What should be our route home? It was important, it seemed to me, to our success that we should be able to cross the mountains and throw ourselves into the nearest tribes without their having the slightest notice of our coming. I felt a strong assurance that, if I could bring this about, I could handle enough tribes, and conciliate the friendship of enough Indians, to be sufficiently strong to defy the rest. There would certainly be no difficulty from the snow down Clark’s Fork; but it was known that the upper and lower Pend Oreille Indians were along the road, and no party could travel over it without its approach being communicated to the Indians; whereas Indian report had it that the Cœur d’Alene Pass was blocked up with snow at this season of the year, and I felt satisfied that they would not expect us on this route, and therefore I determined to move over it. It was the shorter route of the two; it was a route where I wished to make additional examinations; it was a route which enabled me to creep up, as it were, to the first Indian tribe, and then, moving rapidly, to jump upon them without their having time for preparation. I knew that Kam-i-ah-kan and Pu-pu-mox-mox had sent a body of warriors to cut off my party, and that we had to guard against falling into an ambush; but an Indian has not patience to wait many days for such a purpose, and I thought, looking to all these things, that the line of safety was to move over the Cœur d’Alene Pass.”
Mr. Doty arrived with the train on the 11th. At the camp on the Teton occurred the only death that befell the party during the expedition, that of H. Palmer, who died of a lingering and incurable malady, and was laid at rest on the lonely prairie by his warm-hearted and sorrowing companions. Three days more were spent after the arrival of the train in making necessary arrangementswith Dr. Lansdale, who was placed in charge of the Flatheads as their agent, with Mr. Owen and the missionaries.
Keeping his decision as to the route to himself, the governor allowed the report to become current that he would pursue the way by Pend Oreille Lake, and this was universally believed, because both Indians and mountain men pronounced the Cœur d’Alene impassable from snow so late in the season. Still further to throw any hostile spies or runners, who might be lurking about, off the scent, and prevent their carrying word ahead of him, the governor, on the first day’s march, November 14, on reaching the forks, where the trails divided, took that by the Lake route, moved down it two miles, and went into camp.
At earliest daylight the next morning the train was on the march, retraced its steps to the forks, and struck rapidly down the Cœur d’Alene trail a long distance, camping at the governor’s camp ground of October 7, 8, two years before. Pushing on by forced marches, the Bitter Root River was crossed on the ice November 17, and the summit of the mountains on the 20th, where, for lack of grass, the half-famished animals had to be tied to trees all night. The snow was from three to six feet deep for a long distance, and would have proved a serious obstacle, had not a large party of Cœur d’Alene Indians crossed a fortnight before and beaten down a passable trail; but ten dead horses lying stiff and stark within a distance of eight miles showed how severely their animals had suffered in the passage.
On this trip the governor adopted the plan of starting at daylight, moving rapidly for the day’s march, and encamping early in the afternoon, thinking thus to give the animals the best opportunities for finding grass, now dry and scanty, but their only feed. The precision and rapidity with which the train packed up, started, and moved was astonishing. An hour before daylight the cooks were up and preparing breakfast; half an hour later the mules were driven up and the pack-saddles placed upon them, and the riding animals were also saddled; then breakfast, taking about twenty minutes; then the governor, watch in hand, would give the command to load, and in five minutes from the word every mule would be packed and the train moving out. The governor took great pride in this feat every morning, and the men entered into the spirit of it, strove to outdo themselves at every camp, and made the gain of half a minute in packing and starting the subject of talk and congratulation. The mules, by their perverse and vexatious conduct, arising from their invincible repugnance to water and cold, gave rise to many comical and diverting incidents. Dreading the icy water, they would hold back from plunging into the fords, and would seek a dryer way by going out on the skirt or points of ice which fringed the streams, only to have it give way and drop them into deeper water. They were continually getting off the narrow, beaten path in the snow, and floundering helpless in the fleecy material, and then half a dozen sturdy packers would unsling the packs, seize the unlucky mule by tail and ears, neck-rope and saddle, and haul him back on the trail by main strength.
The party reached good grass the day after crossing the divide, and rested another day to allow the exhausted animals to fill up and recuperate. On the 23d a long march was made, and the party encamped twenty-six miles from the Cœur d’Alene Mission. From the appearance of everything around, the governor was satisfied that no Indian spies had yet observed his march. He deemed it impracticable to move the train to the mission in one day without breaking down the animals, yet he counted on taking the Indians there by surprise, thus giving them no opportunity to waylay his party if they were hostile, and relying upon his sudden and unexpected appearance to retrieve their wavering friendship, if they were not too far committed to hostility. At daylight the next morning, with Craig, Pearson, and the four Nez Perce chiefs, Looking Glass, Spotted Eagle, Three Feathers, and Captain John, the governor pushed on, leaving directions for the train to follow and come in next day. The evening sun was just sinking behind the mountains when the seven well-armed horsemen dashed up in front of the Cœur d’Alene village, rifles in hand and presented ready to fire, and in peremptory tones demanded of the astonished Indians, as they poured out of their lodges, “Are you friends or enemies? Do you want peace or war?” The governor’s orders, impressed upon his followers, were, that at the first hostile act or word they were to fire upon the Indians, disabling as many of them as possible, and then to fall back upon and occupy the solidly built church on the knoll overlooking the village, and hold this stronghold against all attacks until the main party should arrive the next day.
The Cœur d’Alenes, thus taken by surprise, in response to this formidable summons declared that they were friends and preferred peace, and gathered around with apparently friendly greetings. In fact, however, as became more apparent at the council next day, “they were much excited, on a balance for peace or war, and a chance word might turn them either way,” as says the official journal. Some of their young men had joined the hostiles; and the rumor was current that the son of the chief, Stellam, had recently been slain by the whites. The chiefs and elders were inclined to be friendly, and wished to avoid war. On the way to the village the governor charged the four Nez Perce chiefs:—