Rendezvous at Wind River -- Campaign of Montero and his brigade in the Crow country --Wars between the Crows and Blackfeet -- Death of Arapooish Blackfeet lurkers -- Sagacity ofthe horse -- Dependence of the hunter on his horse -- Return to the settlements.
ON the 22d of June Captain Bonneville raised his camp, and moved to the forks of WindRiver; the
appointed place of rendezvous. In a few days he was joined there by the brigade of Montero,which
had been sent, in the preceding year, to beat up the Crow country, and afterward proceed to theArkansas. Montero had followed the early part of his instructions; after trapping upon some ofthe
upper streams, he proceeded to Powder River. Here he fell in with the Crow villages or bands,who
treated him with unusual kindness, and prevailed upon him to take up his winter quarters amongthem.
The Crows at that time were struggling almost for existence with their old enemies, theBlackfeet;
who, in the past year, had picked off the flower of their warriors in various engagements, andamong
the rest, Arapooish, the friend of the white men. That sagacious and magnanimous chief hadbeheld,
with grief, the ravages which war was making in his tribe, and that it was declining in force, andmust eventually be destroyed unless some signal blow could be struck to retrieve its fortunes. Ina
pitched battle of the two tribes, he made a speech to his warriors, urging them to set everything athazard in one furious charge; which done, he led the way into the thickest of the foe. He wassoon
separated from his men, and fell covered with wounds, but his self-devotion was not in vain. TheBlackfeet were defeated; and from that time the Crows plucked up fresh heart, and werefrequently
successful.
Montero had not been long encamped among them, when he discovered that the Blackfeetwere
hovering about the neighborhood. One day the hunters came galloping into the camp, andproclaimed that a band of the enemy was at hand. The Crows flew to arms, leaped on theirhorses,
and dashed out in squadrons in pursuit. They overtook the retreating enemy in the midst of aplain.
A desperate fight ensued. The Crows had the advantage of numbers, and of fighting onhorseback.
The greater part of the Blackfeet were slain; the remnant took shelter in a close thicket ofwillows,
where the horse could not enter; whence they plied their bows vigorously.
The Crows drew off out of bow-shot, and endeavored, by taunts and bravadoes, to draw thewarriors
Out of their retreat. A few of the best mounted among them rode apart from the rest. One of theirnumber then advanced alone, with that martial air and equestrian grace for which the tribe isnoted.
When within an arrow's flight of the thicket, he loosened his rein, urged his horse to full speed,threw
his body on the opposite side, so as to hang by one leg, and present no mark to the foe; in thisway
he swept along in front of the thicket, launching his arrows from under the neck of his steed.
Then
regaining his seat in the saddle, he wheeled round and returned whooping and scoffing to hiscompanions, who received him with yells of applause.
Another and another horseman repeated this exploit; but the Blackfeet were not to betaunted out of
their safe shelter. The victors feared to drive desperate men to extremities, so they forbore toattempt
the thicket. Toward night they gave over the attack, and returned all-glorious with the scalps ofthe
slain. Then came on the usual feasts and triumphs, the scalp-dance of warriors round the ghastlytrophies, and all the other fierce revelry of barbarous warfare. When the braves had finished withthe
scalps, they were, as usual, given up to the women and children, and made the objects of newparades and dances. They were then treasured up as invaluable trophies and decorations by thebraves who had won them.
It is worthy of note, that the scalp of a white man, either through policy or fear, is treatedwith more
charity than that of an Indian. The warrior who won it is entitled to his triumph if he demands it.
In
such case, the war party alone dance round the scalp. It is then taken down, and the shaggedfrontlet
of a buffalo substituted in its place, and abandoned to the triumph and insults of the million.
To avoid being involved in these guerillas, as well as to escape from the extremely socialintercourse
of the Crows, which began to be oppressive, Montero moved to the distance of several milesfrom
their camps, and there formed a winter cantonment of huts. He now maintained a vigilant watchat
night. Their horses, which were turned loose to graze during the day, under heedful eyes, werebrought in at night, and shut up in strong pens, built of large logs of cotton-wood. The snows,during
a portion of the winter, were so deep that the poor animals could find but little sustenance. Hereand
there a tuft of grass would peer above the snow; but they were in general driven to browse thetwigs
and tender branches of the trees. When they were turned out in the morning, the first moments offreedom from the confinement of the pen were spent in frisking and gambolling. This done, theywent soberly and sadly to work, to glean their scanty subsistence for the day. In the meantime themen stripped the bark of the cotton-wood tree for the evening fodder. As the poor horses wouldreturn toward night, with sluggish and dispirited air, the moment they saw their ownersapproaching
them with blankets filled with cotton-wood bark, their whole demeanor underwent a change. Auniversal neighing and capering took place; they would rush forward, smell to the blankets, pawthe
earth, snort, whinny and prance round with head and tail erect, until the blankets were opened,and
the welcome provender spread before them. These evidences of intelligence and gladness werefrequently recounted by the trappers as proving the sagacity of the animal.
These veteran rovers of the mountains look upon their horses as in some respects gifted withalmost
