Volume 46 - No. 05
compiled by lyle e davis
Editor’s Note: As promised, we present another in a series of journal entries dictated by James P. Beckwourth, an adventurer, explorer, scout, hunter, trapper, pioneer, emigrant and, for a time, Indian Chief of the Crows.
The narrative is almost amusing in that hardy pioneers did not really talk in such elegant terms. Clearly, T. D. Bonner, who writes this biography, has exercised considerable ‘poetic license’ in describing the adventures in such elegant prose. Here, then, more in the continuing saga describing the trek out West by James P. Beckwourth: Departure from the Fort.—Arrival of Fitzpatrick and Party at the Crow Village.—Hair-breadth Escape from a Massacre.—Rescue and Restoration of Property to the Owners.—Departure of the Party.— My Return to the Fort.—Escape from Black Feet.—Defeat of the Crows.
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February 04, 2016
WHILE staying at our camp on the Big Horn, a messenger arrived with the intelligence that Thomas Fitzpatrick was back upon the mountain, and that he wished me to visit him without loss of time. My affairs were in such a position that I could not possibly leave, but I sent my father and two of my best warriors to escort him into the village. The next morning they returned with Fitzpatrick and party, to the number of thirty-five men, and over two hundred horses. They encamped a short distance out. I visited the camp, and was received with a cordial welcome. I was introduced to a Captain Stuart, an English officer, who had figured conspicuously, as I was informed, under the Iron Duke, and was now traveling the Far West in pursuit of adventure; also to a Dr. Harrison, a son of the hero of Tippecanoe, and to a Mr. Brotherton, with several other gentlemen, who were all taking a pleasure excursion.
While sitting in their quarters, I observed some of the Crows looking very wistfully at the horses belonging to our new friends. Knowing that the most incorruptible of Indians have a moral weakness for horses, I ordered some of my faithful Dog Soldiers to watch them. I then invited the gentlemen to the village,
which invitation they readily accepted. The visitors left at an early hour, but Fitzpatrick remained to talk matters over until quite late in the evening. I offered him a bed in my lodge, but he preferred sleeping in his own quarters. Shortly after his arrival, Fitzpatrick incidentally mentioned that the Cheyennes had killed an entire party of Crows (but he omitted all mention of the part his men had taken in the massacre), and that one of his men had been wounded in the affair. He had also a horse that had belonged to one of the fallen heroes, purchased by him of the Cheyennes. Had he acquainted me with this circumstance when he first saw me, the very unpleasant sequel that I am about to relate would have been avoided.
One of the Crow braves was son to a member of the party massacred, and he recognized his late father's horse. This discovery had occasioned the scrutiny which I had remarked early in the evening, but the cause of which I was in utter ignorance. On the retiring of Fitzpatrick I lay down for the night. I had not fallen asleep, when the murdered brave's son entered my lodge, and addressed me: "Medicine Calf, what must we
‘Journey West ...’ Continued on Page 2
do with these white men?"
"What must you do with them?" repeated I, not apprehending his meaning. "Yes, I say so."
"Why, take them into your lodg es and feast them, and give them beds to sleep on, if they wish it."
"No, no, that is not what I mean," he said; "you know these are the white men who killed my father. They have his horse here with them, and a wounded man — wounded in their fight with the Crows." He then left me to go, as I supposed, to his lodge, and I thought no more of the matter. I soon fell asleep, and woke no more till morning. On awaking, I heard a great rush or trampling of horses, and, springing out of bed, I inquired of a squaw what was the matter in the village.
"Why, don't you know the whites are all dead?" she made reply. "The whites are all dead!" repeated I, thunderstruck. I ran out and ordered my war-horse to