To arms!"
The alarm was passed from camp to camp. It was a common cause.
Every one turned out with horse and rifle. The Nez Perces and
Flatheads joined. As fast as horseman could arm and mount he
galloped off; the valley was soon alive with white men and red
men scouring at full speed.
Sublette ordered his men to keep to the camp, being recruits from
St. Louis, and unused to Indian warfare. He and his friend
Campbell prepared for action. Throwing off their coats, rolling
up their sleeves, and arming themselves with pistols and rifles,
they mounted their horses and dashed forward among the first. As
they rode along, they made their wills in soldier-like style;
each stating how his effects should be disposed of in case of his
death, and appointing the other his executor.
The Blackfeet warriors had supposed the brigade of Milton
Sublette all the foes they had to deal with, and were astonished
to behold the whole valley suddenly swarming with horsemen,
galloping to the field of action. They withdrew into their fort,
which was completely hid from sight in the dark and tangled wood.
Most of their women and children had retreated to the mountains.
The trappers now sallied forth and approached the swamp, firing
into the thickets at random; the Blackfeet had a better sight at
their adversaries, who were in the open field, and a half-breed
was wounded in the shoulder.
When Captain Sublette arrived, he urged to penetrate the swamp
and storm the fort, but all hung back in awe of the dismal
horrors of the place, and the danger of attacking such
desperadoes in their savage den. The very Indian allies, though
accustomed to bushfighting, regarded it as almost impenetrable,
and full of frightful danger. Sublette was not to be turned from
his purpose, but offered to lead the way into the swamp. Campbell
stepped forward to accompany him. Before entering the perilous
wood, Sublette took his brothers aside, and told them that in
case he fell, Campbell, who knew his will, was to be his
executor. This done, he grasped his rifle and pushed into the
thickets, followed by Campbell. Sinclair, the partisan from
Arkansas, was at the edge of the wood with his brother and a few
of his men. Excited by the gallant example of the two friends, he
pressed forward to share their dangers.
The swamp was produced by the labors of the beaver, which, by
damming up a stream, had inundated a portion of the valley. The
place was all overgrown with woods and thickets, so closely
matted and entangled that it was impossible to see ten paces
ahead, and the three associates in peril had to crawl along, one
after another, making their way by putting the branches and vines
aside; but doing it with caution, lest they should attract the
eye of some lurking marksman. They took the lead by turns, each
advancing about twenty yards at a time, and now and then
hallooing to their men to follow.
