A NEW HOME

Colonel Boone welcomed by the Spanish Authorities. ­Boone’s Narrative to Audubon. ­The Midnight Attack. ­Pursuit of the Savages. ­Sickness in the Wilderness. ­Honesty of Colonel Boone. ­Payment of his Debts. ­Loss of all his Property.

At the time when Colonel Boone crossed the Mississippi and entered Missouri, the Spanish Government, then in possession of that territory, being anxious to promote the settlement of the country, gave a very cordial welcome to all emigrants.  The fame of Colonel Boone, as one of the most bold and valuable of pioneers, had preceded him.  The Lieutenant Governor under the Spanish crown, who resided at St. Louis, received him with marked attention, and gave him the assurance that ample portions of land should be given to him and his family.

Colonel Boone took up his residence, with his son, in what is called the Femme Osage district.  The Spanish authorities appointed him Commandant of the district, which was an office of both civil and military power.  His commission was dated July 11th, 1800.  Remote as was this region from the Atlantic States, bold adventurers, lured by the prospect of obtaining large tracts of land, were rapidly pouring in.  Instead of collecting together, they scattered wildly over the vast domain.  Don Charles, the Spanish governor, gave Colonel Boone eight thousand acres of land on the north side of the Missouri river.  By the law of the province he was bound to build upon some part of this land a house within the year, and also to obtain a confirmation of the grant from the representative of the Spanish crown, then residing in New Orleans.  Both of these precautions the simple-minded man neglected to adopt.  To visit New Orleans required a journey through the wilderness of more than a thousand miles.  Though he might float down the stream in his boat he would be exposed continually to attacks from the Indians on its banks, and when ready to return he could not surmount the rapid current of the river in his boat, but would be compelled to traverse the winding banks, often through almost impenetrable forests and morasses.  His duties as syndic or justice of the peace also occupied much of his time, and the Lieutenant Governor at St. Louis agreed to dispense with his residence upon his lands.  In addition to this, Colonel Boone had no doubt that the country would soon come under the power of the United States, and he could not believe the United States Government would disturb his title.

Soon after Boone’s emigration to Missouri, the Emperor Napoleon, by treaty with Spain, obtained possession of the whole of the vast region west of the Mississippi and Missouri, then known as Louisiana, and the region was transferred to France.  It is a curious fact in the history of Boone passing through such wonderful adventures, that he had been a subject of George II., George III., a citizen of the United States, of the temporary nationality of Transylvania, an adopted son and citizen of the Shawanese tribe of Indians, a subject of Charles IV. of Spain, and now he found himself a subject of the first Napoleon, whose empire was then filling the world with its renown.

Not long after this, the Emperor sold the country, as we have recorded, to the United States, saying with that prophetic wisdom which characterised this extraordinary man, “I have now given England a rival upon the seas.”  The fulfilment of this prophecy has since then been every hour in process of development.

Colonel Boone seems to have been very happy in his new home.  He still enjoyed his favorite pursuit of hunting, for the forests around him were filled with game and with animals whose rich furs were every year becoming more valuable.  The distinguished naturalist, J. J. Audubon, visited him in his solitary retreat, and spent a night with him.  In his Ornithological Biography he gives the following narrative which he received from Boone, that evening as they sat at the cabin fire.  We give the story in the words of the narrator: 

“Daniel Boone, or as he was usually called in the Western country, Colonel Boone, happened to spend a night with me under the same roof, more than twenty years ago.  We had returned from a shooting excursion, in the course of which his extraordinary skill in the management of the rifle had been fully displayed.  On retiring to the room appropriated to that remarkable individual and myself for the night, I felt anxious to know more of his exploits and adventures than I did, and accordingly took the liberty of proposing numerous questions to him.

“The stature and general appearance of this wanderer of the western forests approached the gigantic.  His chest was broad and prominent, his muscular powers displayed themselves in every limb; his countenance gave indication of his great courage, enterprise and perseverance; and when he spoke the very motion of his lips brought the impression that whatever he uttered could not be otherwise than strictly true.  I undressed while he merely took off his hunting shirt and arranged a few folds of blankets on the floor, choosing rather to lie there, as he observed, than on the softest bed.  When we had both disposed of ourselves each after his own fashion, he related to me the following account of his powers of memory, which I lay before your kind reader in his own words, hoping that the simplicity of his style may prove interesting to you: 

“‘I was once,’ said he, ’on a hunting expedition on the banks of the Green River, when the lower parts of Kentucky were still in the hands of nature, and none but the sons of the soil were looked upon as its lawful proprietors.  We Virginians had for some time been waging a war of intrusion upon them, and I among the rest rambled through the woods in pursuit of their race, as I now would follow the tracks of any ravenous animal.  The Indians outwitted me one dark night, and I was as unexpectedly as suddenly made a prisoner by them.

“’The trick had been managed with great skill; for no sooner had I extinguished the fire of my camp, and laid me down to rest in full security, as I thought, than I felt seized by an undistinguishable number of hands, and was immediately pinioned as if about to be led to the scaffold for execution.  To have attempted to be refractory would have proved useless and dangerous to my life, and I suffered myself to be removed from my camp to theirs, a few miles distant, without uttering a word of complaint.  You are aware, I daresay, that to act in this manner was the best policy, as you understand that by so doing, I proved to the Indians at once that I was born and bred as fearless of death as any of themselves.

“’When we reached the camp great rejoicings were exhibited.  Two squaws and a few papooses appeared particularly delighted at the sight of me, and I was assured by every unequivocal gesture and word that on the morrow the mortal enemy of the red skins would cease to live.  I never opened my lips, but was busy contriving some scheme which might enable me to give the rascals a slip before dawn.  The women immediately fell a searching about my hunting shirt for whatever they might think valuable, and fortunately for me soon found my flask filled with strong whiskey.

“’A terrific grin was exhibited on their murderous countenances, while my heart throbbed with joy at the anticipation of their intoxication.  The crew began immediately to beat their bellies and sing, as they passed the bottle from mouth to mouth.  How often did I wish the flask ten times its size and filled with aquafortis!  I observed that the squaws drank more freely than the warriors, and again my spirits were about to be depressed when the report of a gun was heard at a distance.  The Indians all jumped on their feet.  The singing and drinking were both brought to a stand, and I saw with inexpressible joy the men walk off to some distance and talk to the squaws.  I knew that they were consulting about me, and I foresaw that in a few moments the warriors would go to discover the cause of the gun having been fired so near their camp.  I expected that the squaws would be left to guard me.  Well, sir, it was just so.  They returned, the men took up their guns and walked away.  The squaws sat down again and in less than five minutes had my bottle up to their dirty mouths, gurgling down their throats the remains of the whiskey.

“’With pleasure did I see them becoming more and more drunk, until the liquor took such hold of them that it was quite impossible for these women to be of any service.  They tumbled down, rolled about and began to snore, when I, having no other chance of freeing myself from the cords that fastened me, rolled over and over towards the fire, and after a short time burned them asunder.  I rose on my feet, snatched up my rifle, and for once in my life spared that of Indians.  I now recollected how desirous I once or twice felt to lay open the skulls of the wretches with my tomahawk.  But when I again thought upon killing beings unprepared and unable to defend themselves, it looked like murder without need, and I gave up the idea.

“’But, sir, I felt determined to mark the spot, and walking to a thrifty ash sapling, I cut out of it three large chips and ran off.  I soon reached the river, soon crossed it, and threw myself into the cane-brakes, imitating the tracks of an Indian with my feet, so that no chance might be left for those from whom I had escaped to overtake me.

“’It is now nearly twenty years since this happened, and more than five since I left the whites’ settlement, which I might never probably have visited again, had I not been called upon as a witness in a law suit which was pending in Kentucky, and which I really believe would never have been settled had I not come forward and established the beginning of a certain boundary line.  The story is this, sir: 

“’Mr. ­ moved from Old Virginia into Kentucky, and having a large tract granted to him in the new State, laid claim to a certain parcel of land adjoining Green River, and, as chance would have it, took for one of his corners the very ash tree on which I had made my mark, beginning, as it is expressed in the deed, ’At an ash marked by three distinct notches of the tomahawk of a white man.’

“’The tree had grown much, and the bark had covered the marks.  But somehow or other Mr. ­ had heard from some one all that I have already said to you, and thinking that I might remember the spot alluded to in the deed, but which was no longer discoverable, wrote for me to come and try at least to find the place or the tree.  His letter mentioned that all my expenses should be paid; and not caring much about once more going back to Kentucky, I started and met Mr. .  After some conversation, the affair with the Indians came to my recollection.  I considered for a while, and began to think that, after all, I could find the very spot, as well as the tree, if it were yet standing.

“Mr. ­ and I mounted our horses and off we went to the Green River bottoms.  After some difficulty ­for you must be aware, sir, that great changes have taken place in those woods ­I found at last the spot where I had crossed the river, and waiting for the moon to rise, made for the course in which I thought the ash trees grew.  On approaching the place I felt as if the Indians were there still, and as if I were still a prisoner among them.  Mr. ­ and I camped near what I conceived the spot, and waited until the return of day.

“’At the rising of the sun I was on foot, and after a good deal of musing thought that an ash tree, then in sight, must be the very one on which I had made my mark.  I felt as if there could be no doubt about it, and mentioned my thought to Mr. .

“‘Well, Colonel Boone,’ said he, ’if you think so I hope that it may prove true, but we must have some witnesses.  Do you stay hereabouts and I will go and bring some of the settlers whom I know.’

“’I agreed.  Mr. ­ trotted off, and I, to pass the time, rambled about to see if a deer was still living in the land.  But ah! sir, what a wonderful difference thirty years makes in a country!  Why, at the time when I was caught by the Indians, you would not have walked out in any direction more than a mile without shooting a buck or a bear.  There were then thousands of buffaloes on the hills in Kentucky.  The land looked as if it never would become poor; and to hunt in those days was a pleasure indeed.  But when I was left to myself on the banks of Green River, I daresay for the last time in my life, a few signs only of the deer were seen, and as to a deer itself I saw none.

“’Mr. ­ returned, accompanied by three gentlemen.  They looked upon me as if I had been Washington himself, and walked to the ash tree, which I now called my own, as if in quest of a long lost treasure.  I took an axe from one of them and cut a few chips off the bark.  Still no signs were to be seen.  So I cut again until I thought it time to be cautious, and I scraped and worked away with my butcher knife until I did come to where my tomahawk had left an impression on the wood.  We now went regularly to work and scraped at the tree with care until three hacks, as plain as any three notches ever were, could be seen.  Mr. ­ and the other gentlemen were astonished, and I must allow that I was as much surprised as pleased myself.  I made affidavit of this remarkable occurrence in presence of these gentlemen.  Mr. ­ gained his cause.  I left Green River for ever, and came to where we are now; and, sir, I wish you a good night.”

The life of this wonderful man was filled with similar adventures, many of which can now never be recalled.  The following narrative will give the reader an idea of the scenes which were continually occurring in those bloody conflicts between the white settlers and the Indians: 

“A widow was residing in a lonely log cabin, remote from any settlers, in what is now Bourbon County, Kentucky.  Her lonely hut consisted of but two rooms.  One, the aged widow occupied herself, with two sons and a widowed daughter with an infant child; the other was tenanted by her three unmarried daughters, the oldest of whom was twenty years of age.

“It was eleven o’clock at night, and the members of the industrious family in their lonely habitation had retired, with the exception of one of the daughters and one of the sons who was keeping her company.  Some indications of danger had alarmed the young man, though he kept his fears to himself.

“The cry apparently of owls in an adjoining forest was heard, answering each other in rather an unusual way.  The horses in the enclosure by the side of the house, who seemed to have an instinct informing them of the approach of the Indians, seemed much excited and galloped around snorting with terror.  Soon steps were heard in the yard, and immediately several loud knocks were made at the door, with some one enquiring, in good English, ‘Who keeps this house?’ The young man very imprudently was just unbarring the door when the mother sprang from the bed, exclaiming that they were Indians.

“The whole family was immediately aroused, and the young men seized their guns.  The Indians now threw off all disguise, and began to thunder at the door, endeavoring to break it down.  Through a loop hole prepared for such an emergency, a rifle shot, discharged at the savages, compelled a precipitate retreat.  Soon, however, they cautiously returned, and attacking the other end of the cabin, where they found a point not exposed to the fire from within, they succeeded at length in breaking through, and entered the room occupied by the three girls.  One of them they seized and bound.  Her sister made desperate resistance, and stabbed one of the Indians to the heart with a large knife which she was using at the loom.  They immediately tomahawked her and she fell dead upon the floor.  The little girl in the gloom of midnight they had overlooked.  The poor little thing ran out of the door, and might have escaped had she not, in her terror, lost all self-control, and ran round the house wringing her hands and crying bitterly.

“The brothers, agonized by the cries of their little sister, were just about opening the door to rush out to her rescue, when their more prudent mother declared that the child must be abandoned to its fate, that any attempt to save her would not only be unavailing, but would ensure the certain destruction of them all.  Just then the child uttered a most frantic scream.  They heard the dull sound as of a tomahawk falling upon the brain.  There were a few convulsive moans, and all again was silent.  It was but too evident to all what these sounds signified.

“Presently the crackling of flames was heard, and through the port holes could be seen the glare of the rising conflagration, while the shouts of the savages grew more exultant.  They had set fire to the end of the building occupied by the daughters.  The logs were dry as tinder, and the devouring element was soon enveloping the whole building in its fatal embrace.  To remain in the cabin was certain death, in its most appalling form.  In rushing out there was a bare possibility that some might escape.  There was no time for reflection.  The hot stifling flames and smothering smoke were rolling in upon them, when they opened the door and rushed out into the outer air, endeavoring as soon as possible to reach the gloom of the forest.

“The old lady, aided by her eldest son, ran in one direction towards a fence, while the other daughter, with her infant in her arms, accompanied by the younger of the brothers, ran in another direction.  The fire was blazing so fiercely as to shed all around the light of day.  The old lady had just reached the fence when several rifle balls pierced her body and she fell dead.  Her son almost miraculously escaped, and leaping the fence plunged into the forest and disappeared.  The other party was pursued by the Indians, with loud yells.  Throwing down their guns which they had discharged, the savages rushed upon the young man and his sister with their gleaming tomahawks.  Gallantly the brother defended his sister; firing upon the savages as they came rushing on, and then assailing them with the butt of his musket which he wielded with the fury of despair.  He fought with such herculean strength as to draw the attention of all the savages upon himself, and thus gave his sister an opportunity of escaping.  He soon however fell beneath their tomahawks, and was in the morning found scalped and mangled in the most shocking manner.”

Of this family of eight persons two only escaped from this awful scene of midnight massacre.  The neighborhood was immediately aroused.  The second daughter was carried off a captive by the savages.  The fate of the poor girl awakened the deepest sympathy, and by daylight thirty men were assembled on horseback, under the command of Col.  Edwards, to pursue the Indians.  Fortunately a light snow had fallen during the night.  Thus it was impossible for the savages to conceal their trail, and they were followed on the full gallop.  The wretches knew full well that they would not be allowed to retire unmolested.  They fled with the utmost precipitation, seeking to gain the mountainous region which bordered upon the Licking River.

A hound accompanied the pursuing party.  The sagacious animal was very eager in the chase.  As the trail became fresh, and the scent indicated that the foe was nearly overtaken, the hound rushing forward, began to bay very loudly.  This gave the Indians the alarm.  Finding the strength of their captive failing, so that she could no longer continue the rapid flight, they struck their tomahawks into her brain, and left her bleeding and dying upon the snow.  Her friends soon came up and found her in the convulsions of death.  Her brother sprang from his horse and tried in vain to stop the effusion of blood.  She seemed to recognize him, gave him her hand, uttered a few inarticulate words, and died.

The pursuit was then continued with new ardor, and in about twenty minutes the avenging white men came within sight of the savages.  With considerable military sagacity, the Indians had taken position upon a steep and narrow ridge, and seemed desirous of magnifying their numbers in the eyes of their pursuers by running from tree to tree and making the forest resound with their hideous yells.  The pursuers were, however, too well acquainted with Indian warfare to be deceived by this childish artifice.  They dismounted, tied their horses, and endeavored to surround the enemy, so as to cut off his retreat.  But the cunning Indians, leaving two of their number behind to delay the pursuit by deceiving the white men into the conviction that they all were there, fled to the mountains.  One of this heroic rear-guard ­for remaining under the circumstances was the almost certain surrender of themselves to death ­was instantly shot.  The other, badly wounded, was tracked for a long distance by his blood upon the snow.  At length his trail was lost in a running stream.  Night came, a dismal night of rain, long and dark.  In the morning the snow had melted, every trace of the retreat of the enemy was obliterated, and the further pursuit of the foe was relinquished.

Colonel Boone, deprived of his property by the unrelenting processes of pitiless law, had left Kentucky impoverished and in debt.  His rifle was almost the only property he took with him beyond the Mississippi.  The rich acres which had been assigned to him there were then of but little more value than so many acres of the sky.  Though he was so far away from his creditors that it was almost impossible that they should ever annoy him, still the honest-hearted man was oppressed by the consciousness of his debts, and was very anxious to pay them.  The forests were full of game, many of the animals furnishing very valuable furs.  He took his rifle, some pack-horses, and, accompanied by a single black servant boy, repaired to the banks of the Osage River to spend the winter in hunting.  Here he was taken dangerously sick, and was apprehensive that he should die.  We know not what were his religious thoughts upon this occasion, but his calmness in view of death, taken in connection with his blameless, conscientious, and reflective life, and with the fact that subsequently he became an openly avowed disciple of Jesus, indicate that then he found peace in view of pardoned sin through faith in the atonement of Jesus Christ.  He pointed out to the black boy the place where, should he die, he wished to be buried.  He gave very minute directions in reference to his burial and the disposal of his rifle, blankets, and peltry.  Mr. Peck in the following language describes this interesting incident in the life of the pioneer: 

“On another occasion he took pack-horses and went to the country on the Osage river, taking for a camp-keeper a negro boy about twelve or fourteen years of age.  Soon after preparing his camp and laying in his supplies for the winter, he was taken sick and lay a long time in camp.  The horses were hobbled out on the range.  After a period of stormy weather, there came a pleasant and delightful day, and Boone felt able to walk out.  With his staff ­for he was quite feeble ­he took the boy to the summit of a small eminence and marked out the ground in shape and size of a grave, and then gave the following directions.

“He instructed the boy, in case of his death, to wash and lay his body straight, wrapped up in one of the cleanest blankets.  He was then to construct a kind of shovel, and with that instrument and the hatchet to dig a grave exactly as he had marked it out.  He was then to drag the body to the place and put it in the grave, which he was directed to cover up, putting posts at the head and foot.  Poles were to be placed around and above the surface, the trees to be marked so that the place could be easily found by his friends; the horses were to be caught, the blankets and skins gathered up, with some special instructions about the old rifle, and various messages to his family.  All these directions were given, as the boy afterwards declared, with entire calmness, and as if he were giving instructions about ordinary business.  He soon recovered, broke up his camp, and returned homeward without the usual signs of a winter’s hunt.”

One writer says Colonel Boone went on a trapping excursion up the Grand River.  This stream rises in the southern part of Iowa, and flows in a southerly course into the Missouri.  He was entirely alone.  Paddling his canoe up the lonely banks of the Missouri, he entered the Grand River, and established his camp in a silent sheltered cove, where an experienced hunter would with difficulty find it.

Here he first laid in his supply of venison, turkeys, and bear’s meat, and then commenced his trapping operation, where no sound of his rifle would disturb the beavers and no smell of gunpowder would excite their alarm.  Every morning he took the circuit of his traps, visiting them all in turn.  Much to his alarm, he one morning encountered a large encampment of Indians in his vicinity, engaged in hunting.  He immediately retreated to his camp and secreted himself.  Fortunately for him, quite a deep snow fell that night, which covered his traps.  But this same snow prevented him from leaving his camp, lest his footprints should be discovered.  For twenty days he continued thus secreted, occasionally, at midnight, venturing to cook a little food, when there was no danger that the smoke of his fire would reveal his retreat.  At length the enemy departed, and he was released from his long imprisonment.  He subsequently stated that never in his life had he felt so much anxiety for so long a period, lest the Indians should discover his traps and search out his camp.

It seems that the object of Colonel Boone in these long hunting excursions was to obtain furs that he might pay the debts which he still owed in Kentucky.  A man of less tender conscience would no longer have troubled himself about them.  He was far removed from any importunity on the part of his creditors, or from any annoyance through the law.  Still his debts caused him much solicitude, and he could not rest in peace until they were fully paid.

After two or three seasons of this energetic hunting, Colonel Boone succeeded in obtaining a sufficient quantity of furs to enable him, by their sale, to pay all his debts.  With this object in view, he set out on his long journey of several hundred miles, through an almost trackless wilderness, to Kentucky.  He saw every creditor and paid every dollar.  Upon his return, Colonel Boone had just one half dollar in his pocket.  But he said triumphantly to his friends who eagerly gathered around him: 

“Now I am ready and willing to die.  I am relieved from a burden which has long oppressed me.  I have paid all my debts, and no one will say when I am gone, ‘Boone was a dishonest man.’  I am perfectly willing to die.”

In the year 1803, the territory west of the Mississippi came into the possession of the United States.  The whole region, embracing what is now Missouri, was then called the territory of Louisiana.  Soon after this a commission was appointed, consisting of three able and impartial men, to investigate the validity of the claims to land granted by the action of the Spanish Government.  Again poor Boone was caught in the meshes of the law.  It was found that he had not occupied the land which had been granted him, that he had not gone to New Orleans to perfect his title, and that his claim was utterly worthless.

“Poor Boone!  Seventy-four years old, and the second grasp you have made upon the West has been powerless.  You have risked life, and lost the life next dearest your own for the West.  In all its fearful forms, death has looked you in the face, and you have moved on to conquer the soil which you did but conquer, that it might be denied to you.  You have been the architect of the prosperity of others, but your own crumbles each time as you are about to occupy it.  When he lost his farm in Boonesborough, he did not linger around in complainings, but went quietly away, returning only to fulfil the obligations he had incurred.  And now this last decision came, even at old age, to leave Daniel Boone, the Pioneer of the West, unable to give a title deed to a solitary acre."

The fur trade was at this time very lucrative.  Many who were engaged in it accumulated large fortunes.  It was in this traffic that John Jacob Astor laid the foundations of his immense wealth.  A guide of Major Long stated that he purchased of an Indian one hundred and twenty beaver skins for two blankets, two gallons of rum, and a pocket mirror.  The skins he took to Montreal, where he sold them for over four hundred dollars.

In the employment of the fur companies the trappers are of two kinds, called the “hired hand,” and the “free trapper.”  The former is employed by the month, receiving regular wages, and bringing in all the furs which he can obtain.  Be they more or less, he receives his stipulated monthly wages.  The free trapper is supplied by the company with traps and certain other conveniences with which he plunges into the forest on his own hook, engaging however to sell to the company, at a stipulated price, whatever furs he may secure.

The outfit of the trapper as he penetrated the vast and trackless region of gloomy forests, treeless prairies, and solitary rivers, spreading everywhere around him, generally consisted of two or three horses, one for the saddle and the others for packs containing his equipment of traps, ammunition, blankets, cooking utensils, etc., in preparation for passing lonely months in the far away solitudes.  He would endeavor to find, if possible, a region which neither the white man nor the Indian had ever visited.

The dress of the hunter consisted of a strong shirt of well-dressed and pliant buckskin, ornamented with long fringes.  The vanity of dress, if it may be so called, followed him into regions where no eye but his own could see its beauties.  His pantaloons were also made of buckskin decorated with variously-colored porcupine quills and with long fringes down the outside of the leg.  Moccasins, often quite gorgeously embroidered, fitted closely to his feet.  A very flexible hat or cap covered his head, generally of felt, obtained from some Indian trader.  There was suspended over his left shoulder, so as to hang beneath his right arm, a powder horn and bullet pouch.  In the latter he carried balls, flints, steel, and various odds and ends.  A long heavy rifle he bore upon his shoulder.

A belt of buckskin buckled tightly around the waist, held a large butcher knife in a sheath of stout buffalo hide, and also a buckskin case containing a whet-stone.  A small hatchet or tomahawk was also attached to this belt.  Thus rigged and in a new dress the hunter of good proportions presented a very picturesque aspect.  With no little pride he exhibited himself at the trading posts, where not only the squaws and the children, but veteran hunters and Indian braves contemplated his person with admiration.

Thus provided the hunter, more frequently alone but sometimes accompanied by two or three others, set out for the mountain streams, as early in the spring as the melting ice would enable him to commence operations against the beaver.

Arrived on his hunting ground he carefully ascends some creek or stream, examining the banks with practiced eye to discern any sign of the presence of beaver or of any other animal whose fur would prove valuable.  If a cotton-wood tree lies prostrate he examines it to see if it has been cut down by the sharp tooth of the beaver; and if so whether it has been cut down for food or to furnish material for damming a stream.  If the track of a beaver is seen in the mud, he follows the track until he finds a good place to set his steel trap in the run of the animal, hiding it under water and carefully attaching it by a chain to a bush or tree, or to some picket driven into the bank.  A float strip is also made fast to the trap, so that should the beaver chance to break away with the trap, this float upon the surface, at the end of a cord a few feet long, would point out the position of the trap.

“When a ‘lodge’ is discovered the trap is set at the edge of the dam, at the point where the animal passes from deep to shoal water.  Early in the morning the hunter always mounts his mule and examines the traps.  The captured animals are skinned, and the tails, which are a great dainty, carefully packed into camp.  The skin is then stretched over a hoop or frame-work of osier twigs and is allowed to dry, the flesh and fatty substance being carefully scraped off.  When dry it is folded into a square sheet, the fur turned inward, and the bundle, containing from about ten to twenty skins, lightly pressed and corded, is ready for transportation.

“During the hunt, regardless of Indian vicinity, the fearless trapper wanders far and near in search of ‘sign.’  His nerves must ever be in a state of tension and his mind ever present at his call.  His eagle eye sweeps around the country, and in an instant detects any foreign appearance.  A turned leaf, a blade of grass pressed down, the uneasiness of wild animals, the flight of birds, are all paragraphs to him written in nature’s legible hand and plainest language.  All the wits of the subtle savage are called into play to gain an advantage over the wily woodsman; but with the instinct of the primitive man, the white hunter has the advantage of a civilised mind, and thus provided seldom fails to outwit, under equal advantages, the cunning savage.

“Sometimes the Indian following on his trail, watches him set his traps on a shrub-belted stream, and passing up the bed, like Bruce of old, so that he may leave no track, he lies in wait in the bushes until the hunter comes to examine.  Then waiting until he approaches his ambush within a few feet, whiz flies the home-drawn arrow, never failing at such close quarters to bring the victim to the ground.  For one white scalp, however, that dangles in the smoke of an Indian lodge, a dozen black ones at the end of the hunt ornament the camp-fire of the rendezvous.

“At a certain time when the hunt is over, or they have loaded their pack animals, the trappers proceed to their rendezvous, the locality of which has been previously agreed upon; and here the traders and agents of the fur companies await them, with such assortments of goods as their hardy customers may require, including generally a fair supply of alcohol.  The trappers drop in singly and in small bands, bringing their packs of beaver to this mountain market, not unfrequently to the value of a thousand dollars each, the produce of one hunt.  The dissipation of the rendezvous, however, soon turns the trapper’s pocket inside out.  The goods brought by the traders, although of the most inferior quality, are sold at enormous prices.  Coffee twenty and thirty shillings a pint cup, which is the usual measure; tobacco fetches ten and fifteen shillings a plug; alcohol from twenty to fifty shillings a pint; gunpowder sixteen shillings a pint cup, and all other articles at proportionately exhorbitant prices.

“The rendezvous is one continued scene of drunkenness, gambling, brawling and fighting, so long as the money and credit of the trappers last.  Seated Indian fashion around the fires, with a blanket spread before them, groups are seen with their ‘decks’ of cards playing at ‘euchre,’ ‘poker,’ and ‘seven-up,’ the regular mountain games.  The stakes are beaver, which is here current coin; and when the fur is gone, their horses, mules, rifles and shirts, hunting packs and breeches are staked.  Daring gamblers make the rounds of the camp, challenging each other to play for the highest stake ­his horse, his squaw if he have one, and as once happened his scalp.  A trapper often squanders the produce of his hunt, amounting to hundreds of dollars, in a couple of hours; and supplied on credit with another equipment, leaves the rendezvous for another expedition which has the same result, time after time, although one tolerably successful hunt would enable him to return to the settlements and civilised life with an ample sum to purchase and stock a farm, and enjoy himself in ease and comfort for the remainder of his days.

“These annual gatherings are often the scene of bloody duels, for over their cups and cards no men are more quarrelsome than your mountaineers.  Rifles at twenty paces settle all differences, and as may be imagined, the fall of one or other of the combatants is certain, or, as sometimes happens, both fall at the same fire."