The Life and Adventures of James P. Beckwourth/Chapter 28
CHAPTER XXVIII.
Disagreeable Rencounters in St. Louis—Messenger arrives from Fort Cass—Imminent Peril of the Whites from the infuriated Crows—The Cause—Immediate Return—Incidents of my Arrival—Pine Leaf substituted for Eliza—Last Battle with the Black Feet—Final Adieu to the Crows.
It now comes in the order of relation to describe two or three unpleasant rencounters I had with various parties in St. Louis, growing out of the misunderstanding (already related) between the Crows and Mr. Fitzpatrick's party. I had already heard reports in the mountains detrimental to my character for my supposed action in the matter, but I had never paid much attention to them. Friends had cautioned me that there were large sums of money offered for my life, and that several men had even undertaken to earn the rewards. I could not credit such friendly intimations; still I thought, on the principle that there is never smoke but there is fire, that it would be as well to keep myself a little on my guard.
I had recovered from my sickness, and I spent much of my time about town. My friends repeatedly inquired of me if I had seen Fitzpatrick. Wondering how so much interest could attach to my meeting with that man, I asked one day what reason there was for making the inquiry. My friend answered, "I don't wish you to adduce me as authority; but there are strong threats of taking your life for an alleged robbery of Fitzpatrick by the Crow nation, in which you were deeply concerned."
I saw now what to prepare for, although I still inclined to doubt that any man, possessed of ordinary perceptions, could charge me with an offence of which I was so manifestly innocent. True, I had met Fitzpatrick several times, and, instead of his former cordial salutation it was with difficulty he addressed a civil word to me.
Shortly after this conversation with my friend I went to the St. Louis Theatre. Between the pieces I had stepped to the saloon to obtain some refreshments, and I saw Fitzpatrick enter, with four other not very respectable citizens. They advanced directly toward me. Fitzpatrick then pointed me out to them, saying, "There's the Crow."
"Then," said the others, "we are Black Feet, and let us have his scalp."
They immediately drew their knives and rushed on me.
I then thought of my friend's salutary counsel to be on my guard, but I had no weapon about me. With the agility of a cat I sprung over the counter, and commenced passing tumblors faster than they had been in the habit of receiving them. I had felled one or two of my assailants, and I saw I was in for a serious disturbance.
A friend (and he is still living in St. Louis, wealthy and influential) stepped behind the bar, and, slapping me on the shoulder, said, "Look out, Beckwourth, you will hurt some of your friends."
I replied that my friends did not appear to be very numerous just then.
"You have friends present," he added; and, passing an enormous bowie-knife into my hand, stepped out again.
Now I was all right, and felt myself a match for the five ruffians. My practice with the battle-axe, in a case where the quickness of thought required a corresponding rapidity of action, then came into play.
I made a sortie from my position on to the open floor, and challenged the five bullies to come on; at the same time (which, in my excited state, was natural enough) calling them by the hardest names.
My mind was fully made up to kill them if they had only come at me; my arm was nervous; and my friends, who knew me at that time, can tell whether I was quick-motioned or not. I had been in situations where I had to ply my battle-axe with rapidity and precision to redeem my own skull. I was still in full possession of my belligerent powers, and I had the feeling of justice to sustain me.
I stood at bay, with my huge bowie-knife drawn, momentarily hesitating whether to give the Crow war-whoop or not, when Sheriff Buzby laid hands on me, and requested me to be quiet. Although boiling with rage, I respected the officer's presence, and the assassins marched off to the body of the theatre. I followed them to the door, and defied them to descend to the street with me; but the sheriff becoming angry, and threatening me with the calaboose, I straightway left the theatre.
I stood upon the steps, and a friend coming up, I borrowed a well-loaded pistol of him, and moved slowly away, thinking that five men would surely never allow themselves to be cowed by one man. Shortly after, I perceived the whole party approaching, and, stepping back on the side-walk in front of a high wall, I waited their coming up. On they came, swaggering along, assuming the appearance of intoxication, and talking with drunken incoherency.
When they had approached near enough to suit me, I ordered them to halt, and cross over to the other side of the street.
"Who are you?" inquired one of them.
"I am he whom you are after, Jim Beckwourth; and if you advance one step farther, I will blow the tops of your heads off."
"You are drunk, ar'n't you?" said one of the party.
"No, I am not drunk," I replied; "I never drink anything to make a dog of me like yourselves."
I stood during this short colloquy in the middle of the sidewalk, with my pistol ready cocked in one hand and my huge bowie-knife in the other; one step forward would have been fatal to any one of them.
"Oh, he's drunk," said one; "let's cross over to the other side." And all five actually did pass over, which, if any of them is still living and has any regard for truth, he must admit to this day.
I then proceeded home. My sister had been informed of the rencounter, and on my return home I found her frightened almost to death; for Forsyth (one of the party) had long been the terror of St. Louis, having badly maimed many men, and the information that he was after me led her to the conclusion that I would surely be killed.
A few days after I met two of the party (Forsyth and Kinney), when Forsyth accosted me, "Your name is Beckwourth, I believe?"
I answered, "That is my name."
"I understand that you have been circulating the report that I attempted to assassinate you?"
"I have told that you and your gang have been endeavouring to murder me," I replied, "and I repeat it here."
"I will teach you to repeat such tales about me," he said, fiercely, and drew his knife, which he called his Arkansas tooth-pick, from his pocket.
The knife I had provided myself with against any emergency was too large to carry about me conveniently, so I carried it at my back, having the handle within reach of my finger and thumb. Seeing his motion, I whipped it out in a second.
"Now," said I, "you miserable ruffian, draw your knife and come on! I will not leave a piece of you big enough to choke a dog."
"Come," interposed Kinney, "let us not make blackguards of ourselves; let us be going." And they actually did pass on without drawing a weapon.
I was much pleased that this happened in a public part of the city, and in open day; for the bully, whom it was believed the law could not humble, was visibly cowed, and in the presence of a large concourse of men. I had no more trouble from the party afterward.
In connection with this affair, it is but justice to myself to mention that, when Captain Sublet, Fitzpatrick, and myself happened to meet in the office of Mr. Chouteau, Captain Sublet interrogated Fitzpatrick upon the cause of his hostility toward me, and represented to him at length the open absurdity of his trumping up a charge of robbery of his party in the mountains against me.
Being thus pressed, Fitzpatrick used the following words: "I never believed the truth of the charge myself; but when I am in the company of sundry persons, they try to persuade me into the belief of it, in order to raise trouble. I repeat, it is not my belief at this present moment, and I will not be persuaded into believing it again." Then turning to me, he said, "Beckwourth, I have done you a great injustice by ever harbouring such a thought. I acknowledge it freely, and I ask your forgiveness for the same. Let us be as we formerly were, friends, and think no more about it."
Friends we therefore mutually pledged ourselves, and friends we have since remained up to this day.
While in town I called on General Ashley, but he happened to be away from home. I was about leaving the house, when a melodious voice invited me in to await the general's return.
"My husband will soon be back," the lady said, "and will be, doubtless, pleased to see you."
I turned, and really thought I was looking on an angel's face. She moved toward me with such grace, and uttered such dulcet and harmonious sounds, that I was riveted to the spot. It was the first time I had seen the lady of General Ashley.
I accepted her invitation, and was shown into a neat little parlour, the lady taking a seat at the window to act as my entertainer until the return of the general.
"If I mistake not," she said, "you are a mountaineer?"
I put on all the airs possible, and replied, "Yes, madam, I was with General Ashley when he first went to the mountains."
Her grace and affability so charmed me that I could not fix my ideas upon all the remarks she addressed to me. I was conscious I was not showing myself off to advantage, and she kept me saying "Yes, madam" and "No, madam," without any correct understanding of the appropriateness, until she espied the general approaching.
"Here come's the general," the lady said; "I knew he would not be long away."
Shortly the general entered the lodge, and fixed his eye upon me in an instant, at the same time whipping his pantaloons playfully with his riding-whip.
Rising from a better chair than the whole Crow nation possessed, I said, without ceremony, "How do you do, general?"
"Gracious heavens! is this you, Beckwourth?" and he seized my hand with the grip of a vice, and nearly shook off my scalp, while his lady laughed heartily at the rough salutation of two old mountaineers.
"My dear," said the general, "let me introduce you to Mr. Beckwourth, of whom you have heard me so often make mention. This is the man that saved my life on three different occasions in the Rocky Mountains; had it not been for our visitor, you would not have been Mrs. Ashley at this moment. But you look sickly, James; what is the matter?"
I replied, "I had been confined to my bed since my arrival in St. Louis."
We had a long conversation about the mountains and my residence with the Crow nation. I was very hospitably entertained by my former commander and his amiable lady, and when I left, the promise was extorted from me to make repeated calls upon them so long as I remained in the city.
About the latter end of March a courier arrived from Fort Cass, bringing tidings of a most alarming character. He had come alone through all that vast extent of Indian territory without being molested. It seemed as though a special providence had shielded him.
He found me in the theatre, and gave me a hasty rehearsal of the business. It seems that a party of trappers, who had heard of my departure to St. Louis, having fallen in with a number of Crows, had practiced upon them in regard to me.
"Your great chief is gone to the white nation," said the trapper spokesman.
"Yes, he has gone to see his friend, the great white chief."
"And you will never see him again."
"Yes, he will come back in the season of green grass."
"No, the great white chief has killed him."
"Killed him!"
"Yes!"
"What had he done that he should kill him?" "He was angry because he left the whites and came to live with the Indians—because he fought for them."
It is the greatest wonder in the world that every one of the trapper party did not lose their scalps on the spot. If the Indians had had any prominent leader among them, they infallibly would have been all killed, and have paid the penalty of their mischievous lying. Unfortunately for the Crows, they believe all the words of a white man, thinking that his tongue is always straight. These trappers, by their idle invention, had jeopardized the lives of all the white men in the mountains.
The Indians said no more, but dashed off to the village, and carried the news of my death.
"How do you know that he is dead?" they inquired.
"Because the whites told us so, and their tongues are not forked. The great white chief was angry because he stayed with our people and he killed him."
A council was immediately held to decide upon measures of vengeance. It was decided to proceed to the fort and kill every white man there, and divide all the goods, guns, and ammunition among themselves; then to send out parties in every direction, and make a general massacre of every white man. Innumerable fingers were cut off, and hair without measure, in mourning for me; a costly sacrifice was then made to the Great Spirit, and the nation next set about carrying out their plans of vengeance.
The village moved towards the fort. Many were opposed to being too hasty, but all agreed that their decisions should be acted upon. The night before the village reached the fort, four women ran on in advance of the village to acquaint Mr. Tulleck of the sanguinary intention of the Crows. Every precaution was taken to withstand them—every gun was loaded. The village arrived, and, contrary to all precedent, the gates of the fort were closed.
The savages were infuriated. The whites had heard of the death of the Medicine Calf, and had closed the gates to prevent the anticipated vengeance. The inmates of the fort were in imminent peril; horror was visible on their countenances. They might hold their position for a while, but an investment by from ten to fifteen thousand savages must reduce it eventually. Tulleck was seated on the fort in great perplexity. Many of the veteran Crow warriors were pacing to and fro outside the inclosure. Yellow Belly was provisional head chief during my absence. Tulleck called him to him.
He rode up and inquired, "What is the matter? Why are your gates shut against us?"
"I had a dream last night," replied Tulleck, "and my medicine told me I had to fight my own people to-day."
"Yes, your bird told you truth; he did not lie. Your chief has killed the Medicine Calf, and we are going to kill you all."
"But the Medicine Calf is not dead; he will certainly come back again."
"Yes, he is dead. The whites told us so, and they never lie. You need not try to escape by saying he is not dead, for we will not believe your words. You cannot escape us; you can neither dig into the ground, nor fly into the air; if you attempt to run, I will put five thousand warriors upon your trail, and follow you to the white chief; even there you shall not escape us. We have loved the whites, but we now hate them, and we are all angry. You have but little meat in the fort, and I know it; when that is gone, you die."
My son, "little Jim," was standing near the fort, and Mr. Tulleck called him to him. The child's answer was, "Away! you smell bloody!"
Mr. Tulleck, however, induced him to approach and said, "Black Panther, I have always loved your father, and you, and all the warriors. Have I ever told you a lie?"
"No."
"They have told you that your father is dead, but they have lied; he lives, and will come back to you. The white chief has not killed him. My words are true. Do you believe your friend, and the friend of your father?"
"Yes. I love my father; he is a great chief. When he is here, I feel happy—I feel strong; but if he is dead, I shall never feel happy any more. My mother has cried four suns for him, and tells me I shall see him no more, which makes me cry."
"Your father shall come back, my son, if you will listen to what I now say to you."
"I will listen."
"Go, then, and ask Yellow Belly to grant me time to send for your father to the country of the white men; and if he be not here by the time the cherries shall have turned red; I will then lay down my head, and you may cut it off, and the warriors may kill us all, for we will not fight against them. Go and tell the chief that he must grant what I have told you for your sake, and if he does not listen to you, you will never see your father any more. Go!"
The child accordingly went to Yellow Belly, and begged him to grant one request. The chief, supposing that he was about to request permission to kill a particular man at the fort, said, "Certainly, my son; any request you make shall be granted. Speak! what is it?"
The child then informed Yellow Belly what the Crane had said—that he would have his father back by the time the cherries turned red, or that he would suffer his head to be cut off, and deliver up his whites to the Crows, and would not fight.
"It shall be so, my son," Yellow Belly assented; "go and tell the Crane to send for your father, for not a warrior shall follow the trail of the white runner, or even look upon it. If he does as he says, the whites shall all live; if he fails, they shall all die. Now go and harangue the people, and tell all the warriors that the Crane is going to send for your father, and the warrior who follows the runner's trail shall die. Yellow Belly has said it."
He mounted a horse, and did as the chief had directed.
Joseph Pappen volunteered to deliver the message to me; it was encountering a fearful hazard. His inducement was a bonus of one thousand dollars.
The morning following the receipt of this intelligence I saw Mr. Chouteau, who was in receipt of a letter from Mr. Tulleck by the same messenger. He was in great uneasiness of mind. There was over one hundred thousand dollars' worth of goods in the fort, and he urged me to start without delay. The distance from St. Louis was estimated at two thousand seven hundred and fifty miles, and the safety of the men rendered the greatest expedition necessary. Any sum I might ask would be willingly paid me.
"Go!" said he; "engage as many men as you wish; purchase all the horses you require: we will pay the bills." He also furnished me with instructions to all the agents on the way to provide me with whatever I inquired for. The price I demanded for my services was five thousand dollars, which was, without scruple, allowed me. I hired two men to accompany me (Pappen being one), to whom I gave fifteen hundred and one thousand dollars respectively.
Our horses being procured, and every necessary supplied us, away we started upon our journey, which occupied us fifty-three days, as the travelling was bad. Our last resting-place was Fort Clarke. Thence we struck directly across through a hostile Indian country, arriving in safety within hailing distance of the fort before the cherries were ripe, although they were very near it.
I rested on a gentle rise of ground to contemplate the mass of people I saw before me. There they lay, in their absorbing devotedness to their absent chief; day and night, for long months, they had stayed by that wooden enclosure, watching for my return, or to take fearful vengeance upon their prey. They had loved the whites, but those whites had now killed their chief because he had returned to his own people to fight for his kindred and nation—the chief who had loved them much, and made them rich and strong. They were now feared by their enemies, and respected by all; their prairies were covered with thousands of horses, and their lodges were full of the wealth derived from the whites. For this the white chief had killed him, and a war of extermination was denounced against them. The fort and its inmates were within their grasp; if the Crane would redeem his pledge and produce their missing chief, all were well; but if the appointed time passed by, and he were not forthcoming, it was fearful to contemplate the vengeance they would inflict.
When I thought of those contemptible wretches, who, merely to wanton with the faith that the artless savages reposed in them, could fabricate a lie, and arouse all this impending danger, I felt that a death at the stake would not transcend their deserts.
I put my horse into speed, and rode in among the Indians. I made the usual salutation on arriving before them, and, riding through their ranks sullenly, I repeated two or three times, "I am angry!" Every eye was turned on me, but not a warrior stirred: the women seized their children and ran into lodges. The Medicine Calf had arrived, but he was angry.
I advanced to the strong and well-secured gate of the fort, and struck it a heavy blow with my battle-axe. "Halloo, boys!" I shouted; "open your gate, and admit a friend."
"Jim Beckwourth! By heavens, Jim Beckwourth!" was repeated from tongue to tongue. The gates flew open upon their massive hinges, and, as I rode through, I said, "Leave the gates open, boys; there is no longer danger."
I exchanged but a few words with Mr. Tulleck, as I had a difficult business before me. The people I had to mollify were subject to strange caprices, and I had not resolved what policy to adopt toward them.
I went and sat down sullenly, hanging my head so low that my chin rested upon my breast: this was a token of my great displeasure. The braves came round me slowly. My wives all formed themselves in a circular line, and marched round me, each one pausing as she passed to place her hand on the back of my neck.
The brave old Yellow Belly was the first one to speak, and what he said was to the purpose.
"What is the matter with our chief?" he inquired; "who has angered the Medicine Calf?"
"Did I not tell you," I said, "that I left you in charge of the Crane and these other whites during my absence? And what do I behold on my return?"
"Yes, I told you I would take care of the Crane and these other whites while you were gone, and I have done so. My warriors have killed buffalo for them to eat, and our women have brought them wood and water for their use, and they are all alive. Look! Yonder is the Crane; and his white people are all with him—are they dead?"
Grandson of Stu-mick-o-Sucks. Boy of Six.
(Blackfoot. "No; but you intended to kill them."
"Yes; but listen: if you had not returned before the cherries tuned red, we should have killed them all, and every other white man besides that we could have found in the Am-ma-ha-bas (Rocky Mountains). Now hear what I have to say:
"Suppose I am now going to war, or I am going to die. I come to you and say, 'My friend, I am going to die yonder; I want you to be a kind friend to my children, and protect them after I depart for the land of the Great Spirit.' I go out and die. My wives come to you with their fingers cut off, their hair gone, and the warm blood pouring from their bodies, They are crying mournfully, and your heart pities them. Among the children is a son in whom you behold the image of your friend who is no more. The mother of that child you know to be good and virtuous. You have seen her triumphant entry into the medicine lodge, where you have beheld so many cut to pieces in attempting the same. You say, Here is the virtuous wife of my friend; she is beloved and respected by the whole nation. She asks you to revenge her loss—the loss that has deprived her of her husband and the child of its father. In such a case, what would you do? Speak!"
"I should certainly take my warriors," I replied, "and go and avenge your loss."
"That is just what I was going to do for your relatives, friends, and nation. Now punish me if I have done wrong."
I had nothing to say in answer, and my head again fell—the spell was not yet broken. The Crow Belt, an old and crafty brave, whispered to a young warrior, who rose in silence, and immediately left the fort.
Mrs. Tulleck shortly presented herself, and commenced tantalizing the Crows.
"What are your warriors waiting for, who have been thirsting so many suns to kill the whites? You have been brave for a long while; where is all your bravery now? The gates are set wide open, and only three have joined the few whites whom you thirsted to kill; why don’t you begin? What are you afraid of?"
She continued in this aggravating strain, the warriors hearing it all, although they did not appear to notice her. The woman's voice was agreeably relieved by tones uttered outside the gate, which at that moment fell upon my ear, and which I readily recognized as the voice of Pine Leaf. She was haranguing her warriors in an animated manner, and delivering what, in civilized life, would be called her valedictory address.
"Warriors!" she said, "I am now about to make a great sacrifice for my people. For many winters I have been on the war-path with you; I shall tread that path no more; you have now to fight the enemy without me. When I laid down my needle and my beads, and took up the battle-axe and the lance, my arm was weak; but few winters had passed over my head. My brother had been killed by the enemy, and was gone to the hunting-ground of the Great Spirit. I saw him in my dreams. He would beckon for his sister to come to him. It was my heart's desire to go to him, but I wished first to become a warrior, that I might avenge his death upon his foes before I went away.
"I said I would kill one hundred foes before I married any living man. I have more than kept my word, as our great chief and medicine men can tell you. As my arm increased in strength, the enemy learned to fear me. I have accomplished the task I set before me; henceforward I leave the war-paths of my people; I have fought my last battle, and hurled my last lance; I am a warrior no more.
"To-day the Medicine Calf has returned. He has returned angry at the follies of his people, and they fear that he will again leave them. They believe that he loves me, and that my devotion to him will attach him to the nation. I therefore bestow myself upon him; perhaps he will be contented with me, and will leave us no more. Warriors, farewell!"
She then entered the fort, and said, "Sparrowhawks, one who has followed you for many winters is about to leave your war-path forever. When have you seen Bar-chee-am-pe shrink from the charge? You have seen her lance red with the blood of the enemy more than ten times ten. You know what her vow was, and you know she has kept her word. Many of you have tried to make her break her word, which you knew she had passed to the Great Spirit when she lost her brother. But you found that, though a woman, she had the heart of a warrior.
"Do not turn your heads, but listen. You have seen that a woman can keep her word. During the many winters that I have followed you faithfully in the war-path, you have refused to let me into the war-path secret, although you tell it to striplings on their second excursion. It was unfair that I could not know it; that I must be sent away with the women and children, when the secret was made known to those one-battle braves. If you had seen fit to tell it to me, it would have been secret until my death. But let it go; I care no farther for it.
"I am about to sacrifice what I have always chosen to preserve—my liberty. The back of my steed has been my lodge and my home. On his back, armed with my lance and battle-axe, I knew no fear. The medicine chief, when fighting by my side, has displayed a noble courage and a lofty spirit, and he won from my heart, what no other warrior has ever won, the promise to marry him when my vow was fulfilled. He has done much for our people; he has fought their enemies, and spilled his blood for them. When I shall become his wife, I shall be fond and faithful to him. My heart feels pure before the Great Spirit and the sun. When I shall be no more on the war-path, obey the voice of the Medicine Calf, and you will grow stronger and stronger; we shall continue a great and a happy people, and he will leave us no more. I have done."
She then approached me, every eye being intently fixed upon her. She placed her hand under my chin, and lifted my head forcibly up. "Look at me," she said; "I know that your heart is crying for the follies of the people. But let it cry no more. I know you have ridden day and night to keep us from evil. You have made us strong, and your desire is to preserve us strong. Now stay at home with us; you will not be obliged to go to war more than twice in twelve moons. And now, my friend, I am yours after you have so long been seeking me. I believe you love me, for you have often told me you did, and I believe you have not a forked tongue. Our lodge shall be a happy one; and when you depart to the happy hunting-ground, I will be already there to welcome you. This day I become your wife—Bar-chee-am-pe is a warrior no more."
This relieved me of my melancholy. I shook the braves by the hand all round, and narrated much of my recent adventures to them. When I came to my danger in the A-rick-a-ra country, they were almost boiling with wrath, and asked my permission to go and exterminate them.
Pine Leaf left the fort with my sisters to go and dress for the short marriage ceremony. She had so long worn the war costume that female apparel seemed hardly to become her; she returned so transformed in appearance that the beholder could scarcely recognize her for the same person.
When I visited her lodge in the evening I found her dressed like a queen, with a lodge full of her own and my relatives to witness the nuptials. She was naturally a pensive, deep-thinking girl; her mind seemed absorbed in some other object than worldly matters. It might be that her continual remembrance of her brother's early fall had tinged her mind with melancholy, or it might be constitutional to her; but for an Indian girl she had more of that winning grace, more of those feminine blandishments—in short, she approached nearer to our ideal of a woman than her savage birth and breed would seem to render possible.
This was my last marriage in the Crow nation. Pine Leaf, the pride and admiration of her people, was no longer the dauntless and victorious warrior, the avenger of the fall of her brother. She retired from the field of her glory, and became the affectionate wife of the Medicine Calf.
The difficulty being now entirely removed, we quitted our encampment, and went on a hunting excursion. We were away but a few days and then returned to the fort. One morning it was discovered a large drove of horses was missing. A party was despatched along the trail, which conducted them precisely the same route they took before. I raised a party, and again struck across the Mussel Shell, and, finding I was before the fugitives, I secreted my warriors as before. We had waited but a few moments, when I saw the enemy emerge from the pines, not more than a mile distant. Pine Leaf and my little wife were with me. My new bride, as she saw the enemy approach, lost all recollection of her new character; her eye assumed its former martial fire, and, had she had her former war equipments, beyond all doubt she would have joined in the dash upon the foe.
The pursued, which was a party of Black Feet, were hard pressed by their pursuers in the rear, but very shortly they were harder pushed in the van. When within proper distance, I gave the word Hoo-ki-hi (charge), and every Black Foot instantly perished. So sudden was our attack, they had not time to fire a gun. I struck down one man, and, looking round for another to ride at, I found they were all dead. The pursuers did not arrive in time to participate in the fight. We took thirty-eight scalps, and recovered one thousand horses, with which we returned to the fort. This was my last battle in the Crow nation; the scalp I relieved the Black Foot of was the last I ever took for them.
Before my sudden recall from St. Louis I had entered into negotiations which I now felt I would like to complete. I had informed the Crows, after my marriage with Pine Leaf, that I must return to the country of the whites, as they had called me away before I had had time to finish my business. When the boats were ready to go down stream I stepped on board, and proceeded as far as Fort Union. Previous to departing, I informed the Crows that I should be back in four seasons, as I at that time supposed I should. I told them to credit no reports of my death, for they were all false; the whites would never kill me. Pine Leaf inquired if I would certainly come back. I assured her that, if life was preserved to me, I would. I had been married but five weeks when I left, and I have never seen her since.
I was disappointed in my expectation of entering into a satisfactory engagement to the agent of the company, so I kept on to St. Louis. In good truth, I was tired of savage life under any aspect. I knew that, if I remained with them, it would be war and carnage to the end of the chapter, and my mind sickened at the repetition of such scenes. Savage life admits of no repose to the man who desires to retain the character of a great brave; there is no retiring upon your laurels. I could have become a pipe-man, but I did not like to descend to that; and, farther, I could not reconcile myself to a life of inactivity. Pine Leaf and my little wife would have excited their powers of pleasing to procure me happiness; but I felt I was not doing justice to myself to relapse irretrievably into barbarism.
It certainly grieved me to leave a people who reposed so much trust in me, and with whom I had been associated so long; and, indeed, could I have made an engagement with the American Fur Company, as I had hoped to do, I should have redeemed my promise to the Crows, and possibly have finished my days with them. But, being mistaken in my calculations, I was led on to scenes wilder and still more various, yet dignified with the name of greater utility, because associated with the interests of civilization.