Volume 45 - No. 48
compiled by lyle e davis
Editor’s Note: As promised, we presend 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: Victory over the Cheyennes. —Treachery of the Snake Indians. —Loss of six Crow Warriors. —Victory over the Snakes and Utahs. —A Mountaineer killed. — Trouble in the Wigwam. —I am disgraced. —Great Sacrifice of my Father's
The Paper - 760.747.7119
website:www.thecommunitypaper.com
email: thepaper@cox.net
November 26, 2015
Property. —Three Whippings for violating Crow Morals. — Great Battle with the Re-ka-ras.
FOUR days after our return, our chief, still smarting at the sacrifice he had made for the salvation of his people, burned for revenge. He selected a body of over two hundred warriors, and started forthwith in search of the enemy.
The night following his departure, I also raised two hundred men, and started in a contrary direction. We proceeded on until we came to Laramie Forks, where Fort Laramie has since been built, and were in sight of a Cheyenne village. While we were surveying the village, eleven of their men, laden with meat, came up and encamped within a few hundred yards of where we were. We immediately threw ourselves flat upon the ground, resolved to wait until the coming of night, in order to make secure work of our attack on them, and prevent any of their number escaping to alarm the village. At a late hour we silently approached their camp
when they were all sound asleep; a dozen guns were discharged at them in a moment, and we rushed in with our battle-axes to complete the work. We took their scalps, and were soon on the retreat, bearing away all the meat we needed, besides nineteen horses, and the slain warriors' equipments. We returned to the village, and washed off the mourningpaint, making the whole village ring with our dancing and rejoicing. The additional name of Ar-rae-dish (the Bloody Arm) was conferred upon me.
The old chief came in three days subsequently, bringing fourteen scalps and equipments, without having lost a single man. Many of my readers will doubtless wonder how a man who had been reared in civilized life could ever participate in such scenes of carnage and rapine. I have already related that I was brought up where similar outrages were committed upon the defenseless inhabitants of the new settlements. Impressed with the recol-
Journey West Continued on Page 2
lection of these early scenes, I hardly ever struck down an Indian but my mind reverted to the mangled bodies of my childish play-fellows, which I discovered on my way to the mill, barbarously murdered by the savages. In after years I have experienced the natural ferocity of the savage, who thirsts for the blood of the white man for no other purpose than to gratify the vindictive spirit that animates him. I have seen the paths of the trappers dyed with their blood, drawn from their hearts by the ambushed savage, who never knew mercy, but remorsely butchered all who came in his way. Such is Indian nature. When I fought with the Crow nation, I fought in their behalf against the most relentless enemies of the white man. If I chose to become an Indian while living among them, it concerned no person but myself; and by doing so, I saved more life and property for the white man than a whole regiment of United States regulars could have done in the same time. Before I close this narrative, I shall take the liberty to express