April 6, 2017
Volume 47 - No. 14
Compiled by lyle e davis
Editor’s Note: Another in the series of journal stories by James P. Beckwourth and chronicled by an itinerant (and verbose) judge, by T. D. Bonner: First Trip to New Mexico.—Return to the Indians with Goods.—Success in Trade.—Enter into Business in St. Fernandez.—Get Married.—Return to the Indians.—The fortunate Speculation.—Proceed to California with Goods.
I had now accumulated a considerable sum of money, and thought I might as well put it to some use for my own profit, as risk my life in the service of others, while they derived the lion's share from my industry. It was now about three years since I had left St. Louis on my present excursion, and I began to weary of the monotony of my life. I was within five days' journey of New Mexico, and I determined upon going to take a look at the northern portion of this unbounded territory. I had but one man with me, named Charles Towne, when I started upon my new exploration. On our road thither we passed near to a Utah village, and two or three of their warriors presented themselves before us to hold a parley, while the chief sat down on a log close by. They said, as we reined in our horses for a moment, "You make our paths bad by coming into our country; you will go back and tell the Cheyennes and Arrap-a-hos where we are; they will then come and kill us, and steal our horses. Come here! our chief wants to see you."
This was spoken in tolerably good Spanish. "Come on," said I, addressing my companion; "let us not be annoyed by these trifling Indians;" and I urged my horse against the Indian spokesman, knocking him into the dirt. He arose, exclaiming, "Wugh! Shawnee!" We then rode on without further molestation, they evidently mistaking me for a Shawnee. They had robbed several white men, and, after beating them savagely, had liberated them. I had no manner of fear of them, for I knew them to be great cowards; with one hundred and fifty good Crow warriors I would have chased a thousand of them. We passed on into St. Fernandez, and found quite a number of American traders there, established in business, and supplying both mountaineers and Indians with goods. Here I encountered an old acquaintance, named Lee, with whom I entered into partnership. We purchased one hundred gallons of alcohol, and a stock of fancy articles, to return to the Indian country, and trade for robes and other peltry. We visited the Cheyennes on the South Fork of the Platte. We passed Bent's fort on our way thither. He hailed us, and inquired where we were going. I informed him that we were on our way to the Cheyenne village. He begged me not to go, as I valued my safety. It was only the day previous, he said, that he had traded with them, and bought eighteen horses from their vil-
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lage. They came the next morning and took them forcibly back, and threatened him with their guns if he said a word against their proceedings. I replied to him that I anticipated no danger, and left him to pass on to their village.
The Indians were delighted at my arrival. I had heard that the whooping-cough was very prevalent among the children, and, as we happened to have several bushels of corn, and beans, and a large quantity of dried pumpkins, we could not have come at a more opportune moment. I told the Indians, in answer to their welcome, that I had come back to see them because I had heard their children were all sick. I called attention to my stock of vegetable esculents, as being best adapted for food for their children, and the best calculated to restore them to health. "Besides," I added, "I have brought a little whisky along, to put good life into your hearts." They were then in their sobered feelings, which will return to them after their
Obituaries Memorials Area Services Page 12
carousals, and which present so dangerous a time to the trader. Their horses were all away, their robes were gone, and they had nothing to show in return for them. Their children were sick and dying, their wives mourning and half distracted, and they could obtain nothing at the fort to alleviate their sufferings. I could understand the whole corollary of incidents. Like their intemperate white brethren, who will occasionally review matters after a prolonged spree, and who will see the effects of their dissipation in their desolate homes, their heart-broken wives, and their ragged and starving children, what are their feelings at such a contemplation? Unquestionably hostility against the cause of this destitution, whether they recognize it in themselves, the willing instruments, or the liquor that infatuated them, or the dealer that supplied it to them. The Indians seem to have one circle of reasoning, and invariably vent their spleen upon the trader. It was this reactionary feeling that had led the Indians to recover, by force of arms, the horses they had parted with previously. I
Moving on West . . . Continued on Page 2
knew better how to manage them.
I deposited my goods at Old Bark's lodge, who felt highly honored with the trust. The villagers collected round, and a dispute arose among them whether the whisky should be broached or not. Porcupine Bear objected, and Bob-tailed Horse, his brother-in-law, strongly advocated my opening the kegs. This led to a warm altercation between the two warriors, until the disputed question was to be decided by the arbitrament of battle. They both left the lodge to prepare for the combat, and returned in a few minutes fully armed and equipped. Porcupine Bear argued his cause in the following strain: "Cheyennes, look at me, and listen well to my words. I am now about to fight my brother; I shall fight him, and shall kill him if I can. In doing this, I do not fight my brother, but I fight the greatest enemy of my people. "Once we were a great and powerful nation: our hearts were proud, and our arms were