The Trapper’s Christmas

The Trapper's Christmas THE STORY OF TWO CHRISTMAS DAYS, ONE BEFORE AND THE OTHER AFTER THE PIONEERS ARRIVED IN UTAH RY JOSEPH HICKMAN It was the summer of 184— and the annual meeting- of trappers, traders, and Indians was in full swing at the Green river ren- dezvous. Around the trader's cabin had sprung up during the past week a city of smoking tepees and wigwams, the vivacious inhabitants of which, gathered here and there in small groups, carried on their crude traffic in furs, trinkets and whiskey. And' from day to day the commotion grew, until one who beheld the performance afterward described it thus : "What a commingling of hell, earth and bedlam was there! On the soft tinctured mountain air rang in hellish harmony the united sound of whoop- ing savages, baying wolf-dogs, howling half-breeds, cracking rifles and carbines, with the sacre and fichtre of the Frenchman, and the more awful curses of the Englishman. These dying down at intervals there was the milder, but not more exalted, refrain of hiccoughing traders and licentious love makers. All were free to eat, drink, and kill ad libitum, each guarding his own head. Thus there was no end of trafficking, gambling, horse-racing, danc- ing, courting, and fighting."* ''Mountain Sheep," the most powerful Indian chief of the Rockies, was there. With him came many of his tribe bent on securing powder, knives, trinkets, and the deadly "fire-water." Among those who came were many dusky maidens, young and giddy, urged on to mating with white men by their unscrupulous kinsmen, who were sure to receive, on such occasions, a danger- ous quantity of whiskey and many gaudy trinkets. The "Lamb," said to be the chief's own daughter, but showing in her features white characteristics, was there on the occasion we are recording. Her connection with the great chief, together with her quiet de- meanor, so unlike her dusky sisters, soon made her the object of more than one eventful courting. And not until, at least, one trapper had bit the dust did the famous young F carry away *See Bancroft's History of the Northwest.

THE TRAPPER'S CHRISTMAS 103 the prize to his tepee, where her people soon gathered and did not leave until they had eaten and drunk the most of his earnings of many years. But there was nothing unusual in such occurrences. Such events were common features at every rendezvous. Always, there was a favorite squaw, for possession of whom the trappers quar- relled, fought and died. Being no more than a common occur- rence, there is little doubt that this story would never have been told, but for the fact that F and his family later became resi- dents of Utah, where many of their children now live. Among these children are men who have served the state as law-makers, teachers and in other responsible positions. Of their children, the grandchildren of F and the "Lamb," several have been gradu- ated from college, others are merchants and ranchers. Not one, so far as is known, has ever been convicted of any sort of crime. And all are justly proud of the romantic tale of the strange love and adventure of their grandparents. The "Lamb" and F departed from the rendezvous soon after the savage mob fell into the drunken stupor, the joy of which they craved above all other things earthly. As he belonged to the daring class known as "free-trappers," the pair went their own way and soon sought out some promising streams in the Uintahs where they were confident of securing the desired furs during the winter. At a convenient spot they erected a cabin and in it lived unmolested for two years. During this time they saw few other humans, except at the rendezvous, which they attended together. F was now a "squaw-man" and as such was left unmolested by the other trappers. Then, too, a big-eyed, gooing being had come screaming his way into the world and the cottage, and his presence seemed to link the strange mating still stronger. The third winter came, and with it the hard luck and suffer- ing that have made it the subject of chapters in histories of the fur trade. This year one may find recorded under such direful headings as, "The Last of the Rendezvous," "The Disastrous Winter," "Decline of the Fur Trade," and others more woeful. None of the large fur companies made expenses, while here and there a free trapper was fortunate in being located on some well stocked stream. These laid in a good supply of furs during the autumn and' early winter, only to have their cabins raided later and the entire stock carried away by other trappers, who. finding it impossible to catch beaver, had turned to stealing from those who had done so. F was among those to lose their furs in this manner, though, as we shall see, it was years before he knew how it all happened. It was Christmas day of the year that F lost his furs. He and the "Lamb" had planned to go up-stream and bring back

104 IMPROVEMENT ERA the furs which they expected to find in the traps which had been set several days previous. Little Jim, now nearly two years old, must of course go along, Indian fashion, snugly wrapped, bask- eted, and tied securely on the side of his mother's pony. The father, after the usual custom, left as soon as he had made his horse ready, which on this occasion was several hours before the mother and child were ready to follow him. Just as the mother was about to mount, the thieves dashed down the hillside and up the canyon. It seemed that they came from every direction, which undoubtedly they had come. The "Lamb" was knocked senseless and the coveted furs soon packed on the horses, including the one on which the child had been tied and was at the time probably fast asleep. In their haste the thieves did not notice the basket, or it might have been that they thought it a waste of time to stop long enough to untie it. At any rate the child was carried along. Indian blood runs with strength and vigor in male and female alike. Thanks to it, the "Lamb" soon found strength enough to rise, and consciousness enough to know what had happened. Her resolve was quickly made and as quickly she began its execution. II Tired and hungered, yet with cheerful satisfaction, F- came down the slope to his cabin at dusk of that eventful Christ- mas day. Every trap had held some sort of fur among which he numbered that of a silver fox for which he had long sought, not so much for its value as for the fact that the "Lamb" had often wished that she might have one with which to line the outside of the basket in which little Jim was swung from the over- head logs of the cabin. So he was filled with satisfaction. Of course he had missed the "Lamb's" company. He had expected her to overtake him early in the day, for at each trap he must spend considerable time taking out the fur, and reset- ting. But he had seen not a sign of her. Yet he felt no con- cern ; in fact it was with a degree of satisfaction that he recalled this. To him it meant that she had startled some game on the early part of her journey, been successful in bagging it, and re- turned to the cabin to take care of it as was her willing duty. Not once did it occur to him that she might have met with some accident, for well he knew that she could take care of herself in those woods even better than he. Nor did he once allow himself to think that she had not started to follow, for she was ever beside him when opportunity and duty permitted. This condition was due, most likely, to the kindness with which he treated her, and on this kindness he prided himself.

.THE TRAPPER'S CHRISTMAS 105 But as he neared the cabin the usual friendly yelping of the woman's dog did not greet him. This was a boding of evil. With the first concern that he had felt during the entire day he spurred his tired pony to a trot. He drew near the cabin and strained his eyes for the usual light that shone through the ' cracks in the creaking door. Not a glimmer could he detect. He hastily dis- mounted and burst into the room ; even in the darkness he could feel its emptiness. He struck a light and the first blazing of the pine-knot revealed to him the empty, disorderly room. He fell in a lump on the nearest stump that had served as a chair. Then in quick succession there flashed across his mind the stories he had heard of run-away squaws. There was one who had left the house locked and, inside, the young ones, five or six of them. There they had remained several days before the trapper had returned to find them half starved and frozen. Another story, rife in the wilds at the time, was a squaw who had married a well- to-do trapper at the suggestion of her father, with whom she had plotted to murder the white man at the first most favorable op- portunity. And she had carried out her part of the plot, and the other Indians had carried away the dead man's treasures. All these and many others F recalled in a moment, and quickly concluded that his squaw had but acted accordingly. ' To be sure he had known these stories before he had taken the "Lamb" into his cabin. But he had had his own theories of why they had come about. "The poor devils," he would usually say upon hearing such a story, "who would blame them? If a man treats his squaw like a brute he must expect her to act as one. When I take a squaw, I'll treat her white." So he had. And now she had left him. Impulsively he sprang to his feet and rushed outside to his pony. He would follow her and bring back with her his furs, then she would know what it was to be treated like other squaws. Outside the cold canyon breeze struck him briskly in the face and the shock seemed to bring him to his senses. What would be the use of following? She was undoubtedly assisted by her tribes- men and to follow would mean sure death, — long before he would be able to reach striking distance. The moon emerged from the mass of pines on the hillside and with its assistance he was able to discern many strange horse tracks in the snow. This was evi- dence enough, the plot had been premeditated, and the "Lamb" had given the signal that he was away, possibly before he had gone a mile up the canyon that morning. He hobbled the pony and went dumbly back into the cabin. It is hard for us who have been reared in a town to understand the actions of men of F — < — 's type. They had lived, with the savages so long that they had taken on much of savage customs

106 IMPROVEMENT ERA and modes of thought. When a wrong was done them, nothing could occupy their minds until vengeance was had. From the day they received an injury to the day il was avenged, it became their sole business to carry out the plans to obtain their reward in the shape of suffering on the part of the enemy. We civilized men act differently. If the object of our wrath is at hand on the moment we receive knowledge of the wrong, he may suffer by our temporary madness. But after this has passed, we arc content to "let the law take its course." The immediate effects are the strongest on us, often driving us to insanity. The opposite is true of the savage and the woodsman. He utters a few blood-curdling oaths, including one, life-binding, for revenge, and then he begins to coolly plan and premeditate as logically as one of us would do on a piece of business that is to come up the next day. So it was with F , and after the customary cursing he gathered the few remaining odds and ends of furs and witb them constructed a sort of bed in which he was soon sleeping as quietly as if tbe day had ended as it should have done. On tbe morrow be arose and went about his usual duties up and down tbe stream to his traps, and so on from day to day throughout the rest of the winter. In the early spring an agent of the American Fur Company passed by and bought up his supply of furs. There was to be no rendezvous that summer, — so few and poor had been the furs secured by most of the trappers during the past winter. This was bad news to F for he had hoped to secure his revenge at this annual clearing-house of frontier troubles. For at the rendezvous were always many of the "Mountain Sheep's" tribe, on one or more of whom he would wreak his vengeance. It mattered little to him who these might be, for according to Indian ethics any member of a tribe may be made to answer for the wrongs in- flicted by the tribe as a whole or any other member. If there was to be no rendezvous, but one course lay open: he must seek out the tribe and on their own ground satisfy his cravings, though, which was likely, it. should cost him his life. Five hundred miles away was the tribe at that moment, hunt- ing the buffalo along the eastern slopes of the Rockies. Traveling is slow under the conditions of caution and pre- caution that trappers must move. Consequently the summer had passed into early autumn when he had reached his destination. Here was only disappointment for him, for the tribe had gone West by a northern trail, several weeks before, and thus he had passed them. This he learned from some trappers who had de- rided to visit some old haunts that winter, and, on account of the lateness of the season, he was induced to remain with them.

THE TRAPPER'S CHRISTMAS 107 But with the first signs of spring he pressed on to the West on the trail of his foes. This was the summer of 1849, and at Foil Bridger he learned of the great "Mormon" migration which had taken place during the past summer and the summer previous. He learned of the wonderful change these people were working on the Great Salt Lake desert, and was told that they had stated their intention of seeing that all who lived within their jurisdiction should obey the laws of the great United States of America, and that all wanton killing, robbing and other outlawry must cease. But even this news did not for a minute deter him from his course which led him on and on to vengeance. Several days out from the fort he met a band of trappers, members of which told him of the Sheep's tribe being close at hand. But to them he gave not the slightest reason for making the inquiry. His blood flowed in happy anticipation ; at last his reward was about to be realized. Thus gloating on the imagined outcome of his adventure, he sat at the evening's camp-fire with- out uttering a single word, though, one after another, the other trappers told stories of daring encounter and hair-breadth escapes. Far into the night did this recounting continue, yet F sat as still as a statue. At last the subject turned to the goodness and badness of squaw-wives, — were they to be trusted, beaten, or bullied? and other such questions, — dear to the heart and purse of a trapper. Thus the stream of conversation ran into the channel through which rolled the turbulent thoughts of our hero. But so wild and frothy were they that the inflow caused little effect that could be seen on the surface. Beneath, undoubtedly, there was an inperceptible swelling, like is unseen, but known to occur, in the body of a great stream, when a brook empties into it. Many were the facts brought forth on the subject ; some maintaining that females of the red race were even more fickle than those of the white. Others, mostly the young men, fresh from civilized love disappointments, stoutly set forth, that the white maidens were not only the more fickle, but likewise the more cruel and heartless. "Listen," broke in a strong young fellow, bearing the stamp of recent arrival, "tell me where in your book of white heroines you can read of one to equal the story T heard down at Fort Bridger. A young squaw, the wife of a trapper, lost her child. had it stolen from her hut somewhere up in the Uintahs. For two years she has followed its trail leading from her cabin door, where the thieves led off her pony laden with furs they had pilfered, beneath which, half smothered, lay the kid in its basket. For five hundred miles she followed it through these mountains, finally ar-

108 IMPROVEMENT ERA riving at Green river two days behind a train of "Mormons" to wh mii t lie child had been given. Barely stopping for the next train that passed that way she begged permission to walk along- side the oxen until she should reach the city and there find the child. Of course the "Mormons" shared with her their crude comforts, for they believe that the Indians are some of God's own people, and I am inclined to think they are right, on this one < i unit at least." Here was the outlet of the turbulent thoughts of our hero, — as the rolling waters of a large stream become quiet upon flowing into a lake, so his thoughts, for the moment were peaceful, — the circumstances and description fit his lost "Lamb" and her child exactly. Then like the strong wind that often sweeps over the lake's surface, his placid thoughts were rolled into billows by the blind wind of suspicion, telling him that these men were in league with the "Sheep's" tribe, and the story had been told for the purpose of leading him off the trail and away from his revenge which was so close. With the early morning he was on the way to the camp of the "Sheep's" tribe, and by noon he rode boldly down among the tepees. Friends hailed him from this side and that side, but he looked neither to right nor to left until he had reached the tent of the Chief. A brief space of conversation soon convinced him that he was wrong in believing that his squaw had run away at the suggestion and knowledge of her kinsmen. For he knew Indian nature and that they would not hesitate to boast of their thievery now that they had him at their mercy. There was but one hope left, it was the "Lamb" who had gone with the "Mormons." He quickly decided to follow and, should he find her there, he would be ready to forget the loss of his furs in the deep satisfaction he would feel in knowing that by treating her "white" she had remained true to his trust. It would take we?ks of travel and it was already late in November, but he knew every hill and hollow from where he stood to the very shore of the briny lake. He would go at once. Ill Again it was Christmas eve. F stood on the brink of the Great Salt Lake Valley. Since leaving the tribe of the "Mountain Sheep" he had suffered untold hardships and passed through thrilling experiences. Some day, perhaps, some of his grandchildren who have often heard the story of that trip from liis own lips, will tell it in detail, and when that time comes one of the most interesting books on western experiences will be writ- ten. Rut now we leave it to the reader's imagination.

THE TRAPPER'S CHRISTMAS 109 He had stood in the same spot several years before and now he marveled at the change that had been wrought. Smoke was curling from the tops of hundreds of cabins and comfortable cot- tages and there was much in the scene that carried him back to the days of his youth in the hills of New England. Thus he pondered as he rested, for he was yet several hours' walk from the nearest habitation, his pony, long since, having failed in strength to carry his master. He plodded on, and in his mind came the occasional doubting that he would find here the object of his search. Failing to find her, he was sure of one thing; where so many whites lived there was sure to be a public house with a good supply of "strychnine whiskey." This would take him back to the exciting days at the rendezvous and in this condition, surrounded by the hellish mob that he knew in those days, he would drink, fight and happily die. It was fully nine o'clock when he led his tired pony down the broad streets, looking from side to side and listening closely for the familiar sound that would lead him to the public house. And at last he did hear loud and merry laughter issuing from a building of unusual size, evidently a public house. But how different from what he had expected ! He drew near and listened closely. He could detect the voices of children and women, yes, and of strong men. This was not what one would have found at the rendezvous. He stopped before the building. The door stood ajar, inside as a tree decorated, and a Santa Claus taking off the last of the Christmas gifts. Then all became suddenly quiet ; an organ began to play, and then the whole body sang, "Praise God from Whom all Blessings Flow." He uncovered and bowed his head, then stood as one trans- fixed, as the congregation of men. women and children passed out and down the street past him. Something held him to the spot, he afterward said, until most the people had gone by, then he raised his head. A shawled figure leading a little child by the hand stopped by him. A quick frontier greeting which is easier imagined than described passed between them. Then the shawled figure led the boy and the man down the street following the crowd, symbolic so it seems, of the fact that she was to be led by these people and in turn lead him in their footsteps to a righteous life and happiness, such as the pair enjoyed until the day of their death, so say their children who told me the story as T have tried to repeat it. LOGAN, UTAH