By request the above letter was written for publication in this book. Mr. Sutherlin has been a resident of Meagher county ever since June, 1865, and has contributed much to the upbuilding of the county and the state. He was elected and served two terms as sheriff, also filled the office of county clerk and recorder one term, and was ex-officio probate judge during the same time.

He was elected in 1886 to the office of territorial councilman, and served two sessions. A number of the laws remaining on the statute books of Montana were originated and passed through his efforts. He was chairman of the committee on agriculture of the State World’s Fair Board and erected and had charge of Montana’s agricultural exhibit at the World’s Fair at Chicago in 1893. He was the commissioner for this state and had full charge of the state’s exhibit at the Trans-Mississippi Exposition at Omaha in 1898. He was one of the founders of the Rocky Mountain Husbandman, November, 1875. His brother, R. N. Sutherlin, was and still is associated with him in its publication. Mr. Sutherlin is one of the best authorities on agriculture in the Northwest.

Robert Vaughn.

Great Falls, Mont., Jan. 7, 1900.

MY FIRST BUFFALO HUNT.

I do not think that there is anything more exciting, combined with fun and enjoyment to a man, than a buffalo hunt, or, as some call it, a chase, especially the first. I well remember my first experience along that line. It was on the lake’s flat, between Sun river and Fort Benton. John Argue and James Armstrong were with me. We could see for several days buffaloes in the coulees on the Muddy. The weather had been cold and snowing for some time. The first clear day we mounted our horses and prepared for a chase.

After we arrived on top of Frozen Hill we could see that the Lake flat and the region beyond was entirely covered with buffaloes. It was a sight to behold. Without exaggeration there were a quarter of a million buffaloes in sight; the main herd covered eight miles by three miles, and they were so numerous that they ate every spear of grass as they went. We rode slowly until we got near the herd, for they were quietly feeding. Soon we could see that the outside ones discovered us, and we made the charge with guns in hand. I had a dragoon revolver, the kind that the cavalry used the time of the war. I was riding a very fine horse. Soon we commenced shooting. It was not long before every buffalo was on the move. And now the fun began. Tens of thousands of these ponderous animals were running at a furious pace; the earth trembled, and the clicking of their hoofs could be heard for miles away. By this time my horse had me in the midst of the herd, for he could run like a racer, and I had two big buffaloes badly crippled and they fell to the rear. Now I had gone all of two miles and fired a dozen shots, with buffaloes in front of me and buffaloes behind me and buffaloes on each side of me; in fact I could see nothing but buffaloes. It takes some practice to load a gun while on horseback and on full speed. However, I was doing this with considerable accuracy. Now I had my old dragoon loaded the third time, and I took after a fat young cow. The chase began to tell on my horse for it was as much as he could do to keep up with this particular buffalo. Soon I had two bullets in her and one more in my gun; I was determined to make a sure shot with it. I now could see that the pace of the buffalo was slower. I spurred my horse and with a spurt he was at her side. As quick as lightening the buffalo whirled around and caught my foot with her crooked horn and came very near throwing me out of the saddle and as near goring the horse. This warned me to be more cautious. The buffalo started in another direction, but very slowly. I followed it; finally it stopped and turned, looking directly at me. I was fifty yards off. I took a deliberate aim at it and down she came. I shot it directly between the eyes. This cow buffalo netted nearly nine hundred pounds and it was as fine meat as I ever tasted. I was now in the center of the buffalo herd and all running like mad and going in one direction; the clouds of fine snow and dust making it very dangerous for a man, being liable to be run over by the buffaloes. At this juncture I had to stand in one place, hat in hand, yelling at the top of my voice to keep them from running over me and my horse. Once a big bull, coming on a terrific speed directly towards me, was in ten feet before he saw me, but made a dodge and at the same time gave a snort and passed me, brushing his shaggy coat against my buckskin suit. It was not long before the big rush had gone by and I had had my first buffalo hunt. A few miles west of me some Indians were chasing another herd. On my way back I found the first two buffaloes that I crippled; one was dead and the other could not get up. Armstrong and Argue had good luck. Next day we went back and brought home a wagon load of as good meat as anyone could wish.

The buffaloes are the most watchful animals that I ever saw. At the least disturbance in the herd they are all at once on the watch as if they had some way of telegraphing to each other; and their scent is remarkably keen. When getting away from the hunter they all run one way and invariably go north. They have remarkable lung power; it takes more than an ordinary horse to keep up with the average buffalo for a mile, and, if not in a mile, good bye horse, for about this time the buffalo begins to warm up and is getting ready for a race. This was in the winter of 1872.

Robert Vaughn.

Jan. 23, 1898.

TOM CAMPBELL RUNNING THE GAUNTLET.

All of the old-timers of Northern Montana remember Tom Campbell (now dead). He was always jolly and a good fellow in general. Tom told me of what happened to him one time when out in the hills and alone. At the time referred to he was employed at one of the trading posts down the Missouri river. One day he was sent to get a deer for meat at the post. When he was about six miles from the camp he came in contact with four Indians. They at once captured him and wanted to know what business he had to hunt in their country. One Indian leveled his gun at Tom’s head, while another one took his horse and gun from him. One of the Indians had seen Tom before at the trading store. This Indian told his comrade, who was threatening to shoot, to lay down his gun. And the four then held a kind of council to consider and decide what to do with their captive. Tom understood their language and overheard what they were saying. One wanted to tie him to a tree and all take a shot at him; another one wanted to scalp him first and then kill him; the other two were undecided. Finally, one of them, a strapping big fellow, said that he knew this man and that he did not want to kill him, but that he would take away everything he had and then let him go. Tom said that this Indian had a great deal of influence over the others. After having considerable talk about the matter with the other three, he turned to Tom and said: “I want that coat.” “You can have it,” said Tom. Again the Indian said: “I want that vest and shirt.” “All right,” said Tom. “And I want them pants and shoes you have on,” said the lordly red man. “You can have them, too,” said Tom. Tom was speedily divested of all his clothing. The Indian who made the demand had a rawhide lariat in his hand, and, with it, gave Tom a whack across the shoulders and a kick where his coat-tail used to be, and told him to go home. Tom, naked and barefooted, made a bee line towards the post. After he had gone a certain distance the Indians began shooting at him, and at the same time running after him, but, as Tom was in good condition and stripped for a foot race, he outran them; though the bullets whistled about him, he got home without being hit.

Tom said that it took him but a few minutes to cover the distance, and that when he arrived his feet were bleeding terribly.

About two years afterwards, on Front street, in Fort Benton, Campbell met the Indian who struck and kicked him and divested him of all his clothing. He seized the Indian by the arm and demanded that he should come with him. The Indian appeared greatly frightened and asked Tom what he was going to do with him. “Come with me and ask no questions,” said Tom. The Indian obeyed, and in a few minutes they were in I. G. Baker’s store. “Now,” said Tom, “I want you to pick out the best shirt and the best pair of blankets in this store and I will pay for them.” The Indian was greatly surprised at this and it was evident that it was the first time in his life that he ever was whipped with a golden rule, for all this time he thought that Tom was taking him to some place to receive punishment, or that he was going to be killed for what he and his companions had done to Tom when out hunting two years before. Tom said to the Indian: “You stole my clothing, you struck me, and the kick you gave me was a hard one, but all that, I owe you my life and I am glad to have the opportunity to return you this compliment.” The Indian was much pleased and promised Tom his friendship as long as he lived. This Indian was prominent in his tribe, and this “golden rule” act of Tom Campbell’s was made known to every Indian in that tribe, and not a hair of his head they allowed to be injured. And from that time he was always treated with the greatest kindness, and many trophies he received as a token of friendship from those Indians.

Mr. Campbell was well educated. For a long time he was in the employment of the American Fur company, and always occupied a post of trust. At the time I had the above conversation he was doing a prosperous business for himself.

Robert Vaughn.

April 7, 1899.

EDWARD A. LEWIS’ EARLY DAYS IN MONTANA.

Having been acquainted with Mr. Edward A. Lewis, who lives on a thousand-acre farm in the foot hills near St. Peter’s Mission, twenty-five miles southwest from this place, and, knowing that he is one of the earliest settlers in Northern Montana, one day last week I took a drive and had a very interesting interview with him in regard to his early days in the West. In the year 1869 he was married to a daughter of a Piegan war chief named Meek-i-appy (Heavy Shield). Father Imoda officiated. Mrs. Lewis had been baptized in the Christian faith previous to her marriage. She is an intelligent woman and speaks fair English; she is a splendid housekeeper, and, above all, a true wife and loving mother. They have three daughters who are well educated; the oldest is married to Mr. John Taber, a well-to-do farmer and stock raiser. When I arrived at the house Mr. Lewis, with his hired man, was in a field near by stacking grain. I asked him how many crops he had harvested off that field; he said: “This is the twenty-ninth crop.” I should judge that forty bushels to the acre would be a fair estimate of the present one.

This beautiful mountain home is but a natural park, of a horseshoe shape, surrounded by high hills crowned with perpendicular cliffs to the height of several hundred feet, with here and there a low divide beyond which nothing is visible but the blue sky. One of the hills east of the house is called Skull mountain. When Mrs. Lewis’ mother was a young woman, the Flatheads and Piegans had a fight in the little valley below, in which the Flatheads came out victorious. Eight of the Piegans fled to the top of this mountain, and there fortified themselves by building breastworks with stones and pitch pine logs. They held the fort for one day and a night, but the Flatheads greatly outnumbered them, and they were overpowered and killed; not one escaped. Many years afterwards Mr. Lewis and Mr. Morgan, his neighbor, found the skull of one of those Indians and brought it home. From this “Skull Mountain” received its name. The little fort was standing until a few years, when some school children tore it down, and now nothing remains but the ruins.

Mr. Lewis, calling my attention to a clump of pine near the summit of Skull Mountain, said: “There is where there is a bed of oyster shells that are as perfect as those on the seashore.” Pointing his hand at another high hill, he said: “And there is where there is another bed of the same kind of shells.” On entering the house, and after I had asked him a few questions in regard to his early adventures in the West, Mr. Lewis said: “It was always my desire to go West. When but eighteen years of age, at St. Louis, Missouri, I hired to the American Fur company to go and work at Fort Benton on the upper Missouri river. I left St. Louis the eighth day of May, 1857, on the steamboat “Star of the West.” I arrived at Fort Benton the twenty-second day of September of the same year. The boat was loaded with goods to pay the Indians their annuities for the treaty they had made with Governor Stevens in behalf of the government for the right of way for a wagon road through their country. The American Fur company had taken the contract to deliver the Indian goods. The boat came as far as about five miles below the place now called Culberson on the Great Northern railroad. There the goods were taken off the steamer and some of them were issued to the Indians at that place. We had brought with us from St. Louis enough lumber to build two Mackinaw boats, and we whipsawed dry cottonwood logs into enough lumber to build the third one. With these boats we took the balance of the goods up to Fort Benton. We had to tow them all the way. There were seventeen men to the boat; sometimes we had to cross the river on account of the high banks and other obstacles. It was hard work, besides sometimes we were in the water up to our waists. It took us sixty-five days to come to Fort Benton from the place where the steamboat landed. In the fall of the same year I, with others, was sent to Fort Union with Mackinaw boats loaded with furs. For several years all the robes and furs belonging to the company were taken from Fort Benton to Fort Union in this way. The distance overland between the two places is three hundred and seventy-four miles, but much greater by the river route. When on these trips we often had to travel at night for the purpose of passing the many hostile Indian camps that were along the river. Notwithstanding all our precautions, many times we had narrow escapes from being robbed and killed by those Indians. Immediately after arriving from the trip referred to, I returned to Fort Benton overland in company with Bill Atkinson, a Frenchman named Rinober, and Henry Bosdwike, who, for several years afterwards, was an interpreter for the government. In 1877 he was killed in the Gibbon fight with the Nez Perces Indians at Big Hole. We had in our charge two carts that were loaded with Indian goods and were drawn by oxen, two to a cart. Then it was difficult to get enough goods to Fort Benton to supply the Indian trade. In the following spring I was sent down the river to Fort Union on the same kind of a trip. When we got there the agent wanted volunteers to take a dispatch boat to Omaha. Mr. Armel, Bill Fatherland and myself took the job. We went down the Missouri in a small cottonwood boat twelve feet long. For our provisions we had nothing but dried buffalo meat. We were happy and contented until we got to a Mandan Indian village; there we were informed that the Sioux chief, “Bighead,” who was a bitter enemy of the whites, was in camp with five hundred lodges on the bank of the Missouri river near the mouth of Cannonball river. This was gloomy news to us, for we knew that Chief Bighead was one of the worst Indians on the river. However, there was nothing for us to do but take the chance and to pass the village in the dead of the night. We glided along, stopping now and then to look for Indian signs in the sand on the shores. After coming near Grand Prairie we decided to cache our boat in the willows day times, and from there on run at night. One evening after an hour of hard rowing, we came where we could see the reflections in the sky from the fires in the Sioux camp, as from a good-sized town lighted by electricity nowadays. As we were getting near the village we stopped for a short time to lay our plans. It was decided that we would wait until the Indians were asleep, and then let the boat drift close to the high, steep bank next to the Indian’s camp, for it would not do to use the oars for fear of making a noise. As we floated close to the bank, we could hear the Indians talking to each other. After we got past, one of the guards discovered us and gave the alarm, but as the lay of the land and the thick brush along the bank of the river were in our favor, and the way we worked the oars and made the little craft fly, we were soon out of danger. We hid ourselves and the boat in the willows on an island the next day, and the day after in a similar place, but after that we traveled day and night until we got to Omaha. There the company’s agent paid our fare to St. Louis, and soon afterwards we returned back to the mountains.

It was in the year 1858 an agency was established in the Sun River valley where now Mr. H. B. Strong’s ranch is. Here is where the annuity of Governor Stevens’ treaty was issued to the Blackfeet Indians. Major Vaughn was agent to issue the goods.

In December, 1859, the company sent nine of us to the Highwood mountains, about twenty miles from Fort Benton to cut logs to make lumber to build Mackinaw boats, for the fur trade was doubling every winter, consequently a great many more boats were required to take the goods, consisting of fur robes and pelts, to Fort Union. After being in camp a few days we had everything running smoothly. Phil Barnes and I drove the ox teams. Some of the men were new hands who had come from St. Louis that summer and could not speak a word of Indian and did not understand their sign talk. One day when Barnes and I were about half a mile from camp we could hear from behind us the clatter of horses and the cracking of whips; on looking back we discovered thirty Crow Indians coming as fast as their horses could carry them, and were coming right towards us, all having their bows strung and their hands full of arrows, and as they approached us, they rent the air with their Indian yells. One pressed an arrow against Barnes’ breast and demanded where our camp was; we told them and pointed in that direction. Twenty-seven of them left at once for our camp; the other three stayed to pilot us the same way the others went. The Indians soon could tell who the new men were and they stripped some of them, and then used the ramrods of their guns on them. They made us cook for the whole gang, and when night came they put us all together and stood guard over us all night, and until the evening of the next day, when one Indian named Red Bear, and who was the chief, told Barnes and I to get the oxen and go to Benton after more goods; and that they were going to take all we had, and he further said: “We have got all the horses your people had.”

Barnes and I took an ox team, as Chief Red Bear had told us, and left for Fort Benton on that evening. We traveled all night, and when we arrived at Fort Benton, we were told that the night previous the Indians had stolen two hundred and fifty head of the company’s horses. At the time they were holding us as prisoners the others of the party were stealing the horses that were on Pablow Island, near Fort Benton.

It was Chief Red Bear and his gang that robbed and plundered the James Stuart party on the Yellowstone four years later.

In 1860 Major Blake, with a detachment of troops, came up the Missouri river to Fort Benton and was bound to Fort Colville in the then Territory of Washington. Blake and his troops came on the steamboat named “Chippewa,” and this was the first time a steamboat ever landed at Fort Benton. The same year Captain John Mullan was building a wagon road from Walla Walla to Fort Benton, which was afterwards known as the Mullan road. Major Blake, when on his way up the river, was very anxious to know the whereabouts of Captain Mullan, who was then somewhere west of the main range of the Rocky mountains. Malcolm Clarke, who had been in St. Louis attending to some business concerning the American Fur company, was on the same boat. When at Fort Union Clark volunteered to take a message overland to Fort Benton and from there forward it to Captain Mullan, saying that he would get to Fort Benton several days ahead of the steamer.

Clark mounted one of Major Blake’s government mules and arrived at Fort Benton six days from the time he left Fort Union and five days ahead of the “Chippewa.” From Fort Benton I was sent with the message to Captain Mullan, whom I met on the Hell Gate river. I traveled on the old Indian trail up the Prickly Pear canyon and crossed the main divide where now the Northern Pacific Railway crosses.

At the mouth of the Deer Lodge river I met a Flathead Indian who could talk a little English. I asked him where those soldiers were. He told me that they were a little ways down the river and on the other side. It was in the month of June, the snow was melting off the mountains, and the streams were very high.

The Indian came with me to show where Mullan was, and we followed down the banks of the Hell Gate river for a few miles until we came opposite where Captain Mullan’s camp was. I told the Indian that I had a letter for Mullan and he said he would swim the river and take it to him. I gave the Indian the letter and he swam the swift current of that great river with the letter between his teeth and landed, after going down the stream nearly a mile. I was then a good swimmer, but I would not undertake to swim that river then for any consideration. Mullan, after reading the letter, wrote one to Major Blake, which I delivered on my return to Fort Benton, where I met Blake. It took me seven days and a half to make the trip. At the Benton Lake I met Captain W. H. Reynolds’ United States engineer corps expedition, which was in camp there at the time. They had been viewing the Missouri Falls.

In the summer of 1861 the same steamer (Chippewa), when loaded with goods for the company, blew up somewhere near Fort Union, when on her trip up to Fort Benton. Mr. Sam Ford, who now lives at the city of Great Falls, was on the boat at the time of the accident. The cargo was lost, consequently they had to get another supply from Fort Union. The goods had to be hauled overland to Fort Benton. I, with others, was sent to bring the goods. We left Fort Union with several wagons and carts drawn by oxen and horses. Mr. Andrew Dawson, who was connected with the company, had charge of the outfit. One morning, when we were traveling, a war party of Crows came to us. They at once demanded some goods. Mr. Dawson gave them all, a small gift, but, for all that, they kept troubling us by trying to stop our teams and they would get on the back of the horses that were pulling the wagons and climb on the wagon tongues and ride the wheel oxen. In this way they kept following and tormenting us. Sometimes they would go away, but only to return, and no doubt they intended to rob us when the first night came. One time they surrounded and stopped us and demanded more goods; some of them attempting to get into the wagons. Again Mr. Dawson gave them several blankets, a box of tobacco, a box of hardtack crackers, and other small trinkets; this satisfied them then, but it was not long before they came again and acted meaner than ever. One Indian, while trying to get on the wagon tongue, was kicked by the wheel ox and he fell, the wagon wheel going over and killing him. The other Indians carried him away and we went on for several miles unmolested. But soon there came a large band of the savage devils, with nothing on in the way of clothing except a breech clout; they had their hands full of arrows and their bows strung ready to send an arrow on a moment’s signal, and, in an angry manner, forbade us to go any further or there would be trouble, and with violent threats demanded pay for the killing of their man. Mr. Dawson reasoned with them, saying that it was the Indian’s own fault that he was killed, but this would not satisfy them; they were bound to have goods and plenty of them, or scalps. Just then a Gros Ventres chief, with about fifty warriors, arrived, and, no doubt, was the cause of saving us from being massacred by the savage Crows. At this time a large camp of Gros Ventres was at Wolfe Point, about twenty-five miles up the river. Through some source they were informed that the Crows were interfering with our wagon train and came to see about it. It appears that about twelve months previous the Gros Ventres and Crows had made peace with each other, and, at this time, they were on friendly terms. It was but a few minutes after the arrival of the Gros Ventres that their chief, whose name was “Sitting Woman,” called the Crows and whites together and had a council. Addressing the Crows, he said: “The Crows and the Gros Ventres have made peace with each other. That is good. The Crows and Gros Ventres smoke together. That is good. The Crows and Gros Ventres make presents to each other. That is good. The Crows and Gros Ventres trade horses with one another, and that is good. But these white men are our white men; the goods that are in their wagons are goods that they are bringing to trade with us. If you are going to fight these white men you must fight us.” Not a word was spoken by the Crows, and they left in small groups of three or four at a time, badly disappointed and without a cent’s worth of goods. The Gros Ventres escorted our train the balance of the day and camped with us that night, and traveled with us until we reached their camp the next day at Wolfe Point. And, after that, the whole camp came with us for over one hundred miles up the valley of the Milk river. Mr. Dawson paid them well for their kindness by giving them goods.

Between Milk river and Fort Benton we met many of the Piegans, Bloods and Blackfeet Indians; many of them followed us to Fort Benton, for they were anxious to trade with us. From this time on the Indian trade increased very rapidly, and new steamers were built to operate on the upper Missouri, consequently the company established several trading posts at different points, and more employes were sent from St. Louis.

I well remember when the steamer “Gray Eagle” made her first trip with my friend John Largent on board, who now lives at the town of Sun River. He, too, left St. Louis after having hired to the American Fur company to work at Fort Benton. At this time I was in charge of several men repairing the outside wall of the fort, which was built with sun-dried bricks, or “adobes.” One day Largent was on top of the wall laying brick; suddenly he came down, saying that someone was shooting at him. I asked him if he was not mistaken; he said he was not, but that he would go and try it again. He was not there but a few seconds before he came down again saying that a bullet whistled by his head. As I was anxious to have the wall finished that day, I went up myself, but I was not there more than a minute before a rifle shot struck the brick that was in my hand, and I also came down on the double quick. Some Indians were doing the shooting from under the bank of the river, about two hundred yards off. In 1864 I went to the mines. In 1865 I formed a partnership with Malcolm Clark and obtained a charter to build a toll-wagon road through the Prickly Pear canyon, which charter we afterwards sold to James King and W. C. Gillette.

In 1868 I located this place where I now live, and where I intend to stay the balance of my life.

Mr. Lewis told me of many adventures he had during the time he was in the employ of the American Fur company, of which I have made no mention. Fort Benton at one time was the greatest fur trading point in the Northwest, but, as the whites came and settled the country, the buffaloes and all fur-bearing animals disappeared like chaff before a hurricane, and now the fur trade at Fort Benton amounts to but a trifle.

Robert Vaughn.

Sept. 12, 1899.

A BRAVE PIEGAN WAR CHIEF.

At the time of my visit to the home of Mr. Edward A. Lewis, an account of which is given in the foregoing letter, Mr. Lewis asked his wife, who was at the time busy with her house work, to come to the room in which we were sitting and tell me of the fight that occurred between the Piegans and a party of Pend d’Oreilles Indians in 1868, and in which her father was engaged. She said that the Piegans were in camp on the Teton river, about eight miles above where now stands the town of Choteau, when the Pend d’Oreilles came and made a sudden attack on the Piegans and stole several of their horses. A desperate fight followed, both parties using guns, bows and arrows, and war clubs; many were killed on both sides. She said that her father was struck with a war club by a Pend d’Oreille; thinking he was dead, the Pend d’Oreille in a hurry undertook to take the rings her father had on three of his fingers. Failing to slip the rings off, he jerked a large bowie knife out of a scabbard and chopped off the fingers. During all this time her father was unconscious, and it was after the fingers were cut off that he came to his senses. Many of the Indians believed that the cutting of the fingers was the cause of his coming to life again. The women dressed his wounds and the next day the plucky war chief, Meek-i-appy, with a party of his warriors, followed the Pend d’Oreilles and the following night recaptured the horses and returned home without firing a gun or a shot from a bow.

Meek-i-appy has been dead for several years. I knew him well. He was known among the whites as Cut-Hand, but I was never aware how it came about that he lost his fingers until this narrative was told by his daughter. She told me of another instance in which her father was one of the principal actors. This time—I relate the story as it was told to me—the Crows had been stealing some of the Piegan horses. Determined to play even, a war party of Piegans, of which Mrs. Lewis’ father was the chief, prepared themselves to go to the Crow country. Each warrior was equipped with all that was necessary for a horse-stealing expedition. Those who did not have guns had perfect bows, and their quivers were filled with well-pointed arrows, and the chief had with him his medicine bag, which was a weasel skin stuffed with some herbs and the bark of a certain tree; to this medicine bag two small bells were attached; it was carried on the breast and tied to a string of beads worn around the neck. It was sometime after entering the Crow country before they could locate an enemy. Finally a camp of about ten lodges was discovered in a small valley between high hills in the Little Snowy mountains, the slopes of which were covered with pine. The Piegans worked their way cautiously through the woods until within a short distance of the Crow camp and there lay hidden the balance of the day, making their plans to get away with the horses that were grazing near the tepees. When night came they again began approaching nearer and nearer the camp of the Crows. After getting to the proper distance, which was about three hundred yards from the tepees, they halted and waited until they were satisfied that all the Crows were asleep. The Crows had their horses close to their tepees and many of them were picketed. The chief was to do the stealing and mount all of his warriors with the stolen horses, for he was considered the bravest and most expert performer in the party. The chief placed his warriors behind a small grove of willows that were thick with underbrush. Then he tied several long strings of rawhide together; this he attached to a bush in the center of the grove and on the same bush he hung his medicine pouch; then he stretched the rawhide, which was about sixty yards long, to the extreme edge of the grove and most remote from the Crow camp. Now everything was ready, and the time for the fray had arrived. The warriors stood behind the bushes to receive the stolen horses, and the chief sneaked towards the horses with the lariats in his hands. The first haul that was made he brought three horses, and repeated this until he had a horse for each of his warriors, who mounted and drove away the balance of the herd. Not satisfied with all the horses, Meek-i-appy determined to steal the Crow chief’s medicine pouch (to steal the medicine pouch from the chief of the enemy is considered the bravest act a warrior can perform). Knowing the chief’s tepee, and knowing that, according to Indian custom, all chiefs hang their medicine pouches above their heads before going to sleep, again the Piegan leader crawled slowly but surely toward the tepee of the head man of the Crow camp and stole his way inside. The Crow chief was sound asleep. When retiring only a few hours before, and when wrapping himself in his gorgeous robes, he never thought or dreamed that there was an enemy anywhere near. The Piegan reached out his hand and took the trophy that hung on a tripoon and near the sleeping chief’s head; he placed it under his belt and was quietly retreating when he stumbled and fell as he was getting out at the door of the lodge. This waked the Crow and he gave the signal war whoop, “enemy in the camp.” All the Crow warriors were out in an instant and came very near capturing the Piegan, but he got into the brush, where he had placed his medicine pouch, only by a scratch. In a few minutes the willow grove was surrounded by the Crows and they all began shooting into the brush. It may be well to state here that an Indian never follows an enemy into a thick brush, especially in the night time.

The Piegan by this time had hold of the rawhide string; he gave it a few jerks and the bells that were attached to the medicine pouch rang. This drew the attention of the Crows that way, and thinking that the Piegan must be there, they all began shooting in the direction of the bells, and the more they shot the oftener the bells would ring. The firing was so rapid and the flashing of the old flint-lock guns was so blinding to the Crows that the Piegan killed three of them. They could not tell the direction the shots came from, still, after they ceased firing, the Piegan, who was at the other end of the string, would occasionally ring the bells. Finally all the Crows stood together near the brush, and opposite to where the bells were ringing, and asked several questions as to who was ringing the bells. One asked in a loud voice: “Are you a man or are you a ghost?” In reply the bells rang three times. Finally the Crows, who are a very superstitious people as a tribe, went away convinced that they had killed the Piegan, and that his ghost was ringing the bells. And Meek-i-appy came out of the willows without harm, and, with the medicine bag, which proved to be good medicine, also with that of the Crow chief which was a bad medicine to its first possessor. Soon the Piegan war chief was with his warriors, who were waiting for him in a coulee that was not far off. He was mounted on the best horse and the one the Crow chief was riding the day before. After a ride of over one hundred miles in one day and a night, Meek-i-appy and his warriors arrived home safe with all their spoils.

The warrior who displayed the greatest strength, good generalship and bravery, was elected or appointed by the head chief to the honor of war chief. On account of the prudence, bravery and good generalship Meek-i-appy had always displayed, he was elected war chief and was such at the time of his death, which was about 1878.

ROBERT VAUGHN.

Sept. 22, 1899.

BLOODY BATTLES AND TRAGEDIES IN THE SUN RIVER VALLEY.

The first printed records of the Sun river we find in the travels of Lewis and Clark, who, on June 14, 1805, viewed the lower part of this fertile valley, from the bluffs near the upper falls of the Missouri river. And Captain Lewis, on his way back from the Pacific slope, came down the Medicine river valley and praised its beauty and the purity of the waters in its streams.

The Sun river was then termed by the Indians the Medicine river. The valley is sixty-five miles long. Its course is nearly east and west, extending from the Missouri river to the base of the Rocky mountains, while the river itself is twice that many miles, extending far into the mountains. On the south side the bench and tablelands, that are carpeted with luxurious grasses, extend for many miles; while on the north the same kind of landscape reaches to the British possessions, a distance of nearly 150 miles. The few old Indians that are now living admit that the Rosebud and the Sun river regions have always been their favorite hunting grounds; where game of all kinds was plentiful, summer and winter alike. And today the same ranges are the most favored by the herdsmen to graze their flocks and herds of domestic animals. It was no wonder that the Indians fought desperately before giving up this, “their favorite hunting grounds.”

The first thirty years of the last half century the Sun river, Teton and Marias valleys were a great field for trappers and traders belonging to the various fur trading companies, who, to a certain extent, like our traveling men now-a-days, were soliciting trade for their respective companies; consequently, many Indians would collect at the same locality, bringing with them skins of different kinds, buffalo robes, and other trinkets; these articles they exchanged for Indian goods from the traders. These valleys had always been the home of the Blackfeet nation, of which the Piegan tribe was one of the most powerful.

The beautiful and fertile valley of the Sun river has been the scene of many tragedies and bloody battles between Indians of different tribes. On account of the shallow ford on the Missouri river, on the east, giving the Crows easy access to the lower end of the valley, and the Cadotte and Priest passes, in the main range of the Rockies on the west, through which the Flatheads, Pend d’Oreilles and other warlike tribes of the Pacific slope entered the upper end, the Blackfeet tribes were always prepared for war.

The following story was written by Father De Smet, the great Indian missionary, and who, I think, was the first to preach christianity in what is now the state of Montana. Besides showing his success as a missionary, it also shows the warlike character of the Blackfeet. Father De Smet says:

“In 1840 I visited the Blackfeet Indians, who, though they are a very warlike tribe, received me with a kind welcome. On this occasion I gave them a crucifix, merely explaining to them who Christ is, and how He died on the cross for them, to bring them to heaven with Himself. Again I paid them a visit in 1855, when I was still more warmly received and welcomed; in fact, with every mark of affection. This greatly surprised me, and I was going to ask the cause of it, when I was invited to a council of all the warriors of the tribe. I went and soon found myself in the presence of their great men, and of the chieftain himself, who wore on his breast the crucifix I had given him years before. When I was seated, you may guess my surprise and delight when he began his harangue to me by begging me to send them black-gowns to teach them the way to heaven. ‘Black-gown,’ said he, ‘we know that what you teach us is true;’ and when I asked what had brought this conviction to their minds, he told the following fact: ‘Three snows ago, Black-gown,’ said he, ‘I and my warriors, thirty in all, went on the warpath against the Crow Indians, our enemies, and we entered their territory. We knew that the moment we entered their land we were beset with dangers, and therefore we took every precaution to prevent our track being discovered. Besides, when we camped for the night we built up a kind of fortress of dead wood to protect us, in case of a surprise, from their shots and arrows. Spite of all our care, the Crow Indians discovered our trail, and during the dead of night surrounded us with a body very much larger than ours, and then raised their wild warcry. We who were within the enclosure, giving ourselves up for lost, began to sing our death song, when I bethought myself of the crucifix which you, Black-gown, gave me, and of the words you said. I saw there was no hope but in it. Then I addressed my fellow warriors, and I said to them: ‘Trust in Him who died on the cross for us!’ and taking the crucifix I held it aloft in my hands and prayed to the Great Spirit to save us. I then kissed the crucifix and placed it on my head, and rubbed it over my arms and breast, and gave it to my companions. They all did the same. I took the crucifix in my hand and held it before me and told them all to follow. I burst through the palisade, right in the midst of the enemy, followed by all. Shots and arrows flew about us in every direction, yet, Black-gown, owing to the power of Him whom we invoked, we passed through unscathed, not even one of us being hurt. From that moment we all longed to see the black-gown again.’”

Some time in the early fifties a bloody and desperate battle was fought between the Blackfeet and Crows which decimated both tribes, nearly half of the braves on each side being killed. Some of the fortifications that were built by the Crows then are still visible.

An account of this bloody encounter was given by Little Plume, a Piegan chief, to three old frontiersmen of the Sun river valley, James Gibson, Judge Burcher and S. M. Carson, who at the time was on the staff of the Sun River Sun, and in which paper the story was published December 25, 1884.

The chief says: “When I was a boy and had not yet gained a name for myself in the annals of war, I was a witness to one of the hardest fought battles ever waged in this valley. The chief of the Piegans and a small party of his followers were encamped on the river near the mountains, when one morning a deputation of Crows came in, praying that a council be made, saying that they were tired of war and wished to make a treaty that would insure peace between them for all time to come. To the council the chief readily consented, and stated that on the morrow everything would be in readiness to receive the Crow chief, as their head men were not so far away but that they could be summoned by that time. When the morrow came, the Crows and Piegans feasted together for the first, and, as it proved to be, for the last time. The council had proceeded without even so much as a sign of hostility in the past, and as to the course to be pursued in the future, it was to be one that would make the Crows and Blackfeet as one nation. Everything had progressed to the satisfaction of all. The council had adjourned to give place to feasting and dancing during the night, and to give time so that Skoon-a-taps-e-guan, a medicine man who had not arrived, might be present at the final agreement. The feasting had been one round of pleasure from the first, and much good will had been shown by both parties. Still the feast went on and “The Strong Man” had not arrived. A few more stragglers from the Crow camp farther down the valley now and then dropped in.

“With the assistance of a dog, the prying eyes of a Piegan woman found among a bundle of moccasins that had been hidden in the snow a fresh scalp, which, on closer inspection, proved to be that of a Piegan. Fearing to cry out, lest they should but give the signal for a general massacre, they quietly informed their chief of what they had found, and the chief as wisely said nothing, but after a little he quietly went out from the lodge, and, to his astonishment, he saw dangling from the neck of a Crow the identical burning glass (sun glass) with which the ‘Strong Man’ was wont to light his pipe. He knew then that Skoon-a-taps-e-guan would never give his consent to a treaty of peace with the Crows. Going back to the council, he told the Crows that it would be impossible for him or his people to sign the treaty of peace until the “Strong Man” had given his consent, and further, that until such consent was given they would be considered enemies. Having thus delivered himself, he walked out, being followed by several of the leading men of both tribes, who inquired his reason for thus breaking up the council. His only answer was to the Crows, whom he told to go to their camp and prepare for war. The council having been thus suddenly broken up by the Piegan chief, it was deemed by the Crows necessary to put as great a distance between the two camps as possible. They therefore hastily moved their camp down to the breaks, some fifteen miles above where the village of Sun River now stands. Here they threw up fortifications and prepared to meet the Piegans if pursued. The Piegans, on the other hand, sent runners to the different camps, informing them of the murder of their medicine man and of the turn affairs had taken. By the time night came on the peaceful camp was broken by the hurrying tramp of over a thousand war horses, each carrying upon his back the sworn enemy of the Crows. The particulars of the murder of Skoon-a-taps-e-guan had been learned by several of the outside camps about the same time the chief discovered it. It seemed that the “Strong Man” had received the summons and had immediately set forth, accompanied by his assistant, and when within a few miles of their destination they were suddenly attacked from behind whilst in the act of lighting their pipes. The “Strong Man” received his death wound from the first blow, but his companion was only stunned, from which he recovered in time to see the murderous Crows hastily making off with the scalp of his leader dangling from the saddle bow of a young brave. Knowing that to stir or show any signs of life would be to bring sudden death, he lay quiet for a long time, not even daring to raise his hand to his aching head, from which the scalp had just been torn. After lying in this position for a considerable time, he raised himself to a sitting posture, from which he cautiously took in the situation, and seeing no signs of the Crows, he immediately made off as fast as his legs could carry him. Having arrived at the camp from which he and his companion had so hopefully started in the morning, he told of the tragedy in as few words as possible, and then fell exhausted on the floor of the lodge. Runners were immediately sent to all the outlying camps, informing them of what had happened, and ordering them to at once repair to the camp of their chief. So rapidly does news travel in an Indian country, that before darkness came on, several hundred warriors were with their chief, as before stated.