THE OLD SANTA FE TRAIL, COLONEL HENRY INMAN [well read books .txt] 📗

Have A Horse

To Witness The Novel Sight.  He Immediately Ordered a Mexican Groom

To Procure One; But I Did Not See The Peculiar Smile That Lighted up

His Face, As He Whispered something To The Man Which I Did Not Catch.

Presently The Groom Returned leading a Magnificent Gray, Which I

Mounted, Maxwell Suggesting That I Should Ride Down To The Large

Field And Wait There Until The Herd Arrived.  I Entered the Great

Corral, Patting My Horse On The Neck Now And Then, To Make Him

Familiar With My Touch, And Attempted to Converse With Some Of The

Chiefs, Who Were Dressed in their Best, Painted as If For The

War-Path, Gaily Bedecked with Feathers And Armed with Rifles And

Gaudily Appointed bows And Arrows; But I Did Not Succeed very Well

In Drawing Them From Their Normal Reticence.  The Squaws, A Hundred

Of Them, Were Sitting On The Ground, Their Knives In hand Ready For

The Labour Which Is The Fate Of Their Sex In all Savage Tribes,

While Their Lords' Portion Of The Impending Business Was To End With

The More Manly Efforts Of The Chase.

 

 

 

Suddenly A Great Cloud Of Dust Rose On The Trail From The Mountains,

And On Came The Maddened animals, Fairly Shaking The Earth With

Their Mighty Tread.  As Soon As The Gate Was Closed behind Them,

And Uttering a Characteristic Yell That Was Blood-Curdling In its

Ferocity, The Indians Charged upon The Now Doubly Frightened herd,

And Commenced to Discharge Their Rifles, Regardless Of The Presence

Of Any One But Themselves.  My Horse Became Paralyzed for An Instant

And Stood Poised on His Hind Legs, Like The Steed represented in

That Old Lithographic Print Of Napoleon Crossing The Alps; Then Taking

The Bit In his Teeth, He Rushed aimlessly Into The Midst Of The

Flying Herd, While The Bullets From The Guns Of The Excited savages

Rained around My Head.  I Had Always Boasted of My Equestrian

Accomplishments--I Was Never Thrown But Once In my Life, And That Was

Years Afterward--But In this Instance It Taxed all My Powers To Keep

My Seat.  In less Than Twenty Minutes The Last Beef Had Fallen; And

The Warriors, Inflated with The Pride Of Their Achievement, Rode

Silently Out Of The Field, Leaving The Squaws To Cut Up And Carry

Away The Meat To Their Lodges, More Than Three Miles Distant, Which

They Soon Accomplished, To The Last Quivering Morsel.

 

 

 

As I Rode Leisurely Back To The House, I Saw Maxwell And Kit Standing

On The Broad Porch, Their Sides Actually Shaking With Laughter At

My Discomfiture, They Having Been Watching Me From The Very Moment

The Herd Entered the Corral.  It Appeared that The Horse Maxwell

Ordered the Groom To Bring Me Was A Recent Importation From St. Louis,

Had Never Before Seen An Indian, And Was As Unused to The Prairies

And Mountains As A Street-Car Mule.  Kit Said That My Mount Reminded

Him Of One That His Antagonist In a Duel Rode A Great Many Years Ago

When He Was Young.  If The Animal Had Not Been Such "A Fourth-Of-July"

Brute, His Opponent Would In all Probability Have Finished him, As He

Was A Splendid Shot; But Kit Fortunately Escaped, The Bullet Merely

Grazing Him Under The Ear, Leaving a Scar Which He Then Showed me.

 

 

 

One Night Kit Carson, Maxwell, And I Were Up In the Raton Mountains

Above The Old Trail, And Having Lingered too Long, Were Caught Above

The Clouds Against Our Will, Darkness Having Overtaken Us Before We

Were Ready To Descend Into The Valley.  It Was Dangerous To Undertake

The Trip Over Such A Precipitous And Rocky Trail, So We Were Compelled

To Make The Best Of Our Situation.  It Was Awfully Cold, And As We

Had Brought No Blankets, We Dared not Go To Sleep For Fear Our Fire

Might Go Out, And We Should Freeze.  We Therefore Determined to Make

A Night Of It By Telling Yarns, Smoking Our Pipes, And Walking around

At Times.  After Sitting awhile, Maxwell Pointed toward The Spanish

Peaks, Whose Snow-White Tops Cast A Diffused light In the Heavens

Above Them, And Remarked that In the Deep Canyon Which Separates Them,

He Had Had One Of The "Closest Calls" Of His Life, Willingly Complying

When I Asked him To Tell Us The Story.

 

 

 

"It Was In 1847.  I Came Down From Taos With A Party To Go To The

Cimarron Crossing Of The Santa Fe Trail To Pick Up A Large Herd Of

Horses For The United states Quartermaster'S Department.  We Succeeded

In Gathering about A Hundred and Started back With Them, Letting

Them Graze Slowly Along, As We Were In no Hurry.  When We Arrived

At The Foot-Hills North Of Bent'S Fort, We Came Suddenly Upon The

Trail Of A Large War-Band Of Utes, None Of Whom We Saw, But From

Subsequent Developments The Savages Must Have Discovered us Days

Before We Reached the Mountains.  I Knew We Were Not Strong Enough

To Cope With The Whole Ute Nation, And Concluded the Best Thing For

Us To Do Under The Ticklish Circumstances Was To Make A Detour,

And Put Them Off Our Trail.  So We Turned abruptly Down The Arkansas,

Intending To Try And Get To Taos In that Direction, More Than One

Hundred and Fifty Miles Around.  It Appeared afterward That The

Indians Had Been Following Us All The Way.  When We Found This Out,

Some Of The Men Believed they Were Another Party, And Not The Same

Whose Trail We Came Upon When We Turned down The River, But I Always

Insisted they Were.  When We Arrived within A Few Days' Drive Of Taos,

We Were Ambushed in one Of The Narrow Passes Of The Range, And Had

The Bloodiest Fight With The Utes On Record.  There Were Thirteen

Of Us, All Told, And Two Little Children Whom We Were Escorting To

Their Friends At Taos, Having Received them At The Cimarron Crossing.

 

 

 

"While We Were Quietly Taking Our Breakfast One Morning, And Getting

Ready To Pull Out For The Day'S March, Perfectly Unsuspicious Of The

Proximity Of Any Indians, They Dashed in upon Us, And In less Than

A Minute Stampeded all Our Stock--Loose Animals As Well As Those We

Were Riding.  While Part Of The Savages Were Employed in running Off

The Animals, Fifty Of Their Most Noted warriors, Splendidly Mounted

And Horribly Painted, Rushed into The Camp, Around The Fire Of Which

The Men And The Little Children Were Peacefully Sitting, And,

Discharging Their Guns As They Rode Up, Killed one Man And Wounded

Another.

 

 

 

"Terribly Surprised as We Were, It Did Not Turn The Heads Of The Old

Mountaineers, And I Immediately Told Them To Make A Break For A Clump

Of Timber Near By, And That We Would Fight Them As Long As One Of Us

Could Stand Up.  There We Fought And Fought Against Fearful Odds,

Until All Were Wounded except Two.  The Little Children Were Captured

At The Beginning Of The Trouble And Carried off At Once.  After A

While The Savages Got Tired of The Hard Work, And, As Is Frequently

The Case, Went Away Of Their Own Free Will; But They Left Us In a

Terrible Plight.  All Were Sore, Stiff, And Weak From Their Many Wounds;

On Foot, And Without Any Food Or Ammunition To Procure Game With,

Having Exhausted our Supply In the Awfully Unequal Battle; Besides,

We Were Miles From Home, With Every Prospect Of Starving To Death.

 

 

 

"We Could Not Remain Where We Were, So As Soon As Darkness Came On,

We Started out To Walk To Some Settlement.  We Dared not Show

Ourselves By Daylight, And All Through The Long Hours When The Sun

Was Up, We Were Obliged to Hide In the Brush And Ravines Until Night

Overtook Us Again, And We Could Start On Our Painful March.

 

 

 

"We Had Absolutely Nothing To Eat, And Our Wounds Began To Fester,

So That We Could Hardly Move At All.  We Should Undoubtedly Have

Perished, If, On The Third Day, A Band Of Friendly Indians Of Another

Tribe Had Not Gone To Taos And Reported the Fight To The Commanding

Officer Of The Troops There.  These Indians Had Heard Of Our Trouble

With The Utes, And Knowing How Strong They Were, And Our Weakness,

Surmised our Condition, And So Hastened to Convey The Bad News.

 

 

 

"A Company Of Dragoons Was Immediately Sent To Our Rescue, Under The

Guidance Of Dick Wooton, Who Was And Has Ever Been A Warm Personal

Friend Of Mine.  They Came Upon Us About Forty Miles From Taos, And

Never Were We More Surprised; We Had Become So Starved and Emaciated

That We Had Abandoned all Hope Of Escaping What Seemed to Be Our

Inevitable Fate.

 

 

 

"When The Troops Found Us, We Had Only A Few Rags, Our Clothes Having

Been Completely Stripped from Our Bodies While Struggling Through

The Heavy Underbrush On Our Trail, And We Were So Far Exhausted that

We Could Not Stand On Our Feet.  One More Day, And We Would Have Been

Laid Out.

 

 

 

"The Little Children Were, Fortunately, Saved from The Horror Of

That Terrible March After The Fight, As The Indians Carried them To

Their Winter Camp, Where, If Not Absolutely Happy, They Were Under

Shelter And Fed; Escaping The Starvation Which Would Certainly Have

Been Their Fate If They Had Remained with Us.  They Were Eventually

Ransomed for A Cash Payment By The Government, And Altogether Had Not

Been Very Harshly Treated."

 

Chapter XIX (Bent'S Forts)

The Famous Bent Brothers, William, George, Robert, And Charles, Were

French-Canadian Hunters And Trappers, And Had Been Employed almost

From Boyhood, In the Early Days Of The Border, By The American Fur

Company In the Mountains Of The Northwest.

 

 

 

In 1826, Almost Immediately After The Transference Of The Fur Trade

To The Valley Of The Arkansas, When The Commerce Of The Prairies

Was Fairly Initiated, The Three Bents And Ceran St. Vrain, Also A

French-Canadian And Trapper, Settled on The Upper Arkansas, Where

They Erected a Stockade.  It Was, Of Course, A Rude Affair, Formed of

Long Stakes Or Pickets Driven Into The Ground, After The Mexican

Style Known As Jacal.  The Sides Were Then Ceiled and Roofed, And

It Served its Purpose Of A Trading-Post.  This Primitive Fort Was

Situated on The Left Or North Bank Of The River, About Halfway Between

Pueblo And Canyon City, Those Beautiful Mountain Towns Of To-Day.

 

 

 

Two Years Afterward, In 1828, The Proprietors Of The Primitive

Stockade In the Remote Wilderness Found It Necessary To Move Closer

To The Great Hunting-Grounds Lower Down The Valley.  There, About

Twelve Miles Northeast Of The Now Thriving Town Of Las Animas,

The Bents Commenced the Construction Of A Relatively Large And More

Imposing-Looking Structure Than The First.  The Principal Material

Used in the New Building, Or Rather In its Walls, Was Adobe, Or

Sun-Dried brick, So Common Even To-Day In new Mexican Architecture.

Four Years Elapsed before The New Fort Was Completed, During Which

Period Its Owners, Like Other Trappers, Lived in tents Or Teepees

Fashioned of Buffalo-Skins, After The Manner Of The Indians.

 

 

 

When At Last The New Station Was Completed, It Was Named fort William,

In Honour Of Colonel William Bent, Who Was The Leader Of The Family

And The Most Active Trader Among The Four Partners In the Concern.

The Colonel Frequently Made Long Trips To The Remote Villages Of The

Arapahoes, Cheyennes, Kiowas, And Comanches, Which Were Situated far

To The South And East, On The Canadian River And Its Large Tributaries.

His Miscellaneous Assortment Of Merchandise He Transported upon

Pack-Mules To The Indian Rendezvous, Bringing Back To The Fort The

Valuable Furs He Had Exchanged for The Goods So Eagerly Coveted by

The Savages.  It Was While On One Of His Trading Expeditions To The

Cheyenne Nation That The Colonel Married a Young Squaw Of That Tribe,

The Daughter Of The Principal Chief.

 

 

 

William Bent For His Day And Time Was An Exceptionally Good Man.

His Integrity, His Truthfulness On All Occasions, And His Remarkable

Courage Endeared him To The Red and White Man Alike, And Fort William

Prospered wonderfully Under His Careful And Just Management.  Both

His Brothers And St. Vrain Had Taken Up Their Residence In