The first savage that advanced
received the contents of the rifle in his breast, and fell dead
upon the spot; but before Vanderburgh could draw a pistol, a blow
from a tomahawk laid him prostrate, and he was dispatched by
repeated wounds.
Such was the fate of Major Henry Vanderburgh, one of the best and
worthiest leaders of the American Fur Company, who by his manly
bearing and dauntless courage is said to have made himself
universally popular among the bold-hearted rovers of the
wilderness.
Those of the little band who escaped fled in consternation to the
camp, and spread direful reports of the force and ferocity of the
enemy. The party, being without a head, were in complete
confusion and dismay, and made a precipitate retreat, without
attempting to recover the remains of their butchered leader. They
made no halt until they reached the encampment of the Pends
Oreilles, or Hanging-ears, where they offered a reward for the
recovery of the body, but without success; it never could be
found.
In the meantime Fitzpatrick and Bridger, of the Rocky Mountain
Company, fared but little better than their rivals. In their
eagerness to mislead them they betrayed themselves into danger,
and got into a region infested with the Blackfeet. They soon
found that foes were on the watch for them; but they were
experienced in Indian warfare, and not to be surprised at night,
nor drawn into an ambush in the daytime. As the evening advanced,
the horses were all brought in and picketed, and a guard was
stationed round the camp. At the earliest streak of day one of
the leaders would mount his horse, and gallop off full speed for
about half a mile; then look round for Indian trails, to
ascertain whether there had been any lurkers round the camp;
returning slowly, he would reconnoitre every ravine and thicket
where there might be an ambush. This done, he would gallop off in
an opposite direction and repeat the same scrutiny. Finding all
things safe, the horses would be turned loose to graze, but
always under the eye of a guard.
A caution equally vigilant was observed in the march, on
approaching any defile or place where an enemy might lie in wait;
and scouts were always kept in the advance, or along the ridges
and rising grounds on the flanks.
At length, one day, a large band of Blackfeet appeared in the
open field, but in the vicinity of rocks and cliffs. They kept at
a wary distance, but made friendly signs. The trappers replied in
the same way, but likewise kept aloof. A small party of Indians
now advanced, bearing the pipe of peace; they were met by an
equal number of white men, and they formed a group midway between
the two bands, where the pipe was circulated from hand to hand,
and smoked with all due ceremony. An instance of natural
affection took place at this pacific meeting. Among the free
trappers in the Rocky Mountain band was a spirited young Mexican
named Loretto, who, in the course of his wanderings, had ransomed
a beautiful Blackfoot girl from a band of Crows by whom she had
been captured. He made her his wife, after the Indian style, and
she had followed his fortunes ever since, with the most devoted
affection.
Among the Blackfeet warriors who advanced with the calumet of
peace she recognized a brother. Leaving her infant with Loretto
she rushed forward and threw herself upon her brother's neck, who
clasped his long-lost sister to his heart with a warmth of
affection but little compatible with the reputed stoicism of the
savage.
While this scene was taking place, Bridger left the main body of
trappers and rode slowly toward the group of smokers, with his
rifle resting across the pommel of his saddle. The chief of the
Blackfeet stepped forward to meet him. From some unfortunate
feeling of distrust Bridger cocked his rifle just as the chief
was extending his hand in friendship. The quick ear of the savage
caught the click of the lock; in a twinkling he grasped the
barrel, forced the muzzle downward, and the contents were
discharged into the earth at his feet. His next movement was to
wrest the weapon from the hand of Bridger and fell him with it to
the earth. He might have found this no easy task had not the
unfortunate leader received two arrows in his back during the
struggle.
The chief now sprang into the vacant saddle and galloped off to
his band. A wild hurry-skurry scene ensued; each party took to
the banks, the rocks and trees, to gain favorable positions, and
an irregular firing was kept up on either side, without much
effect. The Indian girl had been hurried off by her people at the
outbreak of the affray. She would have returned, through the
dangers of the fight, to her husband and her child, but was
prevented by her brother. The young Mexican saw her struggles and
her agony, and heard her piercing cries. With a generous impulse
he caught up the child in his arms, rushed forward, regardless of
Indian shaft or rifle, and placed it in safety upon her bosom.
Even the savage heart of the Blackfoot chief was reached by this
noble deed. He pronounced Loretto a madman for his temerity, but
bade him depart in peace. The young Mexican hesitated; he urged
to have his wife restored to him, but her brother interfered, and
the countenance of the chief grew dark. The girl, he said,
belonged to his tribe-she must remain with her people. Loretto
would still have lingered, but his wife implored him to depart,
lest his life should be endangered.
