Rensselaer Republican, Volume 12, Number 18, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 16 January 1880 — THE WHITE MARE. [ARTICLE]

THE WHITE MARE.

Ik the vallev, about six miles above ne forks of t&e Teton River in northern Montana, is the Blackfoot Indian Agency. A high stockade of split logs standing on end, deeply sunk in the earth,, incloses about two acres of ground. Heavy gates, opening outward, sway harshly on great iron hinges. They keep the Indians out o' nights. A well of water is in the center of the inclosure. Low log buildings, covered with earth, are scattered along the stockade. A couple of sandhill cranes stood expectantly at the well waiting patiently for a thirsty man to draw water. A white-tailed" deer, with a broad blue ribbon on her neck, walked daintily around. Her cool, black muzzle, studded with drops of dew, brilliant in the slanting rays of the rising son, was slyly thrust into my hand, giving me a slight shock of surprise. By the stables stood a cowmoose, standing so awkwardly with crooked legs and humped back and the pendulous lip which Mark Twain calls “ the Hapsburg,” that very ugliness excited my pity. A moose cal?— her -miniatnre in ugliness stood stupidly at her side.- Standing at the well, facing the grand Rocky Mountain range, I drew a bucket ’of water. Drinking deeply, repulsing the while the advances of the female crane with my moccasined foot, I got the reward of all men who reject the advances of the tender sex. and was soon engaged in repelling a furiops attack on me bv tho long-legged twain. The attack was fierce. Their long, hard bills clashed viciously as they scornfully scolded me, and I was on the point of beating a disgraceful retreat when I heard “Ho, Frank! come have a mouthful of whiskyT’ Recognizing the voice, I gladly left the cranes in undisputed possession of the waterbucket, and walked across the parade to the store of the Fifr Company. Bidding Burr “Good morning,” I declined the whisky on grounds unnecessary to state.; yet the barrel had a yellow head, and —anti—well, I knew the tap. I sat and talked to Burr, who was in charge of this extensive store, and before breakfast • he went over it with me. A carious stock. Everything you could not find in an Eastern country store was here. As we walked he explained the business to me. Alluring? Not at all. He, looking at his watch said: “We have yet time before breakfast to look at my mare.” The sudden change in the expression of the voice, the softening of the eyes, as this hard Indian trader spoke of his horse, excited my curiosity,’ and I went with him. He took me to a low loc stable, the chinks carefully mudded, the open shutter and door well made and carefully fitted,.so as to exclude the buffalo gnats in season. A few short heavy chains, stretching from post to post, kept the horse in and the other animals out. With breast .pushing against the topmost chain, with her handsome broad head thrust out and alert ears cocked forward, stood a snoww hite mare. She was looking at the moose with a surprised expression on her face, as much as to say: “Well, you have not grown handsomer during the night.” Burr whistled, and with a joyful neigh the mare turned her head toward him and bade him welcome. The greetihg between man and animal was almost tender. The mare rubbed her nose gently against his breast, and the man stood softly stroking her delicate neck. Unlocking the chains, they dropped. Bure walked toward the well. The mare, with dainty steps, arched and flecking tail, followed behind him, or, caressingly advancing to his side, rubbed her body against *lns, as though the mere contact with the man were grateful 4*> her. His arm, it seemed to me, instinctively lifted and dropped across her neck. Ine two walked on together, unconscions of rar incongruity. A bucket of water stood at the well. The highbred creature smelt of it, and, detecting my previous presence, disdainfully refused to drink after me. Empty in nr the bucket, Burr drew another, and of this the mare drank slowly, her white face gradually sinking into the shallow vessel. All across the parade, on the return to the stable, the love scene was re-enacted. As they passed me, the mare showed her aversion to a stranger, by laying back her ears and thrusting out. her white-toothed muzzle towaro me in a vicious manner, causing me to step hastily back. They pass into the darkness ,of the stable. Bure comes oat with 4 backet, puts up the topmost chain, and goes after barley. The mare, with outstretched head, looks after him with kind eyes. Again she saw me, and with tkide-openeu mouth reached around the post to pay me the attentions of her dislike. Returning to the stable with a full bucket of baney, Bure passed in. , I heard him pour the grain into the feed box; I heard him speak to the mare as his “dear girl,” and I heard him—kiss her!

A singular gentleness had come over this hard man, steeled to human suffering and . woe, whose business it was to impoverish Indians, to destroy their morals, to brutify them with the devil alcohol. He sat at the breakfast-table, silently thinking, with his antelope steaks and trout untested before him. etching the softened face, I wondered what was the story. So I asked: “Burr, why do you love that white mare?” He looked kindly at me, and, with a sad smile, replied: “To-night after the men are in bed, I will tell you the story.” Then, briskly: “Frank, this is not business. Eat, my boy, then clear out. You will find some fool hens

ill the big willow thicket about five miles below here. I saw them the other day. Sboof some. To-night we will here ft feast, and I will open my two last bottles of sherry, and we wifi talk.” His face hardened. The cold, deadly look returned to the gray eyes, and our breakfast was soon finished. Shouldering my rifle, I stepped out of the stockade and slowly walked down the valley. On the distant killsides antelope graced; down the valley before me I could see a few deer running for cover to the willows by the stream. Now and then a grouse rose before me and flew rapidly away. Resisting all temptation to shoot at anything, 1 walked steadily on. Climbing a hill. I sat on a red rock and musingly gazed at the vast plains to the northeast, at the foothills of the range, and at the rugged r»cky range beyond. I love the Rocky Mountains and never tire of their face. I wasted hours in looking and thinking of the many tales I had heard of the range. When the sun was high above me i started for the willows. There I neatly shot the heads off of six grouse. Then jointing a light trout-pole, I whipped the clear pools of the south fork of the Teton, and was soon rewarded by a string of fine halfpound trout. Then came the pleasant walk back through the 000 l dry air and over the crispy grass of the north. What a luxury life was in the valley of the Teton! I turned my spoils over to the smiling Indian woman who acted as cook for Burr. The rest of the day I spent on horseback, running antelope with a number of half-blood Indians. At eight o’clock supper was served and eaten. The sherry was brought out, and I scattered on the table a handful, my last, of Rosa Conchas, that had never paid duty, and as we sat smoking Bure told me this story: “In the fall of 18681 thought it might be profitable to start a trading-post in the i ellowstone Valley. Learning from the Blackfeet that the Sioux were camped on the south side of the river, I determined to ride over and see what arrangements I could make with them. I crossed the Belt Mountains, and, riding down the valley, was soon at their camp, I on the horth side of the river, they on the south. I sat on my horse and hailed the camp. No answer. I could see plenty of Indians walking about, and again I hailed. No answer. I shouted myself hoarse, and the only notice taken of me was by an old buck, who walked to the river bank, looked at me, made an insulting gesture, and slowlv walked off. I went there to trade, and, having got angry at the treatment, though I well knew that 1 ought to leave, the valley at once, I, like a fool, resolved to cross the stream and brave the danger. So I forded and rode into the camp. I spoke to no one; no one spoke to me. The sullen braves turned their backs on me as I rode up the street. The young girls looked curiously at me. Riding slowly along, I cooled rapidly. I saw that I was not wanted, and I at last fully realized that I was in danger. I did not dare to ride to the south, out of the camp, nor did I have courage enough to attempt to recross the river.

“ Before me stood a great tent made of buffalo skins. It was the largest I had ever seen. I halted, dismounted, and stood silently at my horse's head. No one noticed me. Indians went past me, apparently not seeing me. At last a young woman came and stood before me. Looking right into my eyes she said: ‘ What do you want?’ I .looked her coldly in the face and made no reply. Smiling, she asked: * What brings you here?’ Steadily I gazed into her eyes and was voiceless. She left me and departed into the great lodge. Soon an Indian warrior in full paint, with bow and strung arrow in his hands, came to me. Speaking Blackfoot, he said: * Why are you in this camp?' To him I replied: ‘*l wish to trade with you.’ More men camel They took my horse, and seizing hold of my arm they led me into the great lodge. Here I was seated and a council was held- I sat and listened to them talk of what was best to do with so presumptuous a white man. Some were in favor of trading. The large majority of the Indians were in favor of torturing me. It was soon decided that I should be tortured; and they sat and disenssed the many methods. After a two days’ talk it was decided to burn me. I was in a strange condition mentally. I would listen to a plan of torture, as though it were some other man they were talking about; and I would comment to myself on that Jilan as giving the chap but little chance or his life. But when the dusky brave, who talked Blackfoot, told me that 1 was to die by fire the next day* I understood perfectly that I was the man they had been talking about, and I replied: ‘I know it!’ Clustering around me they asked me if I had understood all the talk. ‘Yes; I had.’ ‘Then why not answer the maiden, when she spoke to you? 1 4 1 came, not to talk to squaws, but to trade with men.’ No use; I could do nothing by soft' talk, and having played my hand, resigned myself to my fate. “ 1 noticed that the girl who had first spoken to me in front of the tent was watching me. She would quickly glance at me and then drop her eyes on the buckskin shirt she was embroidering with Crow hair. Several times I noticed this, and once I replied with a smile. The lodge emptied. All were gone except the girl. She quicklv came to my side, apparently to refold some buffalo robes, and in a whisper said: ‘You are to die to-mor-row. To-night I will have the best horse in the camp saddled and standing on the outside of the lodge. I will have the tent cat from the outside. You jump through, mounl and ride for your life. You may escape. You will burn if you stay.’ Then, with a smile: ‘ The mare is mine. She is the fastest animal in the Valley of the Yellowstone. I give her to yon.’ She left me and quickly resumed her work. As she wove the hair of many Crow scalplocks into the shirt, I sat looking thankfully at her. She never looked at me agjiin. As I saw a chance for my life, my heart beat so loudlv that I thought it would be heard. I calmed my face and waited. I ate fairly of supper. I smoked a pipe. All were very kind and attentive to me. Night was passing away, and still the Indians lingered, looking at the man they were to burn on the morrow. I leaned back against the tent to rest myself, when I felt a hand gently pushing me forward. Sitting whistling, I felt the ooint of a knife come through and strike my neck. I did not flinch; I could feel the blood trickle down my back; I could feel the knife carefully drawn down until it hit the ground. Still whistling, I waited, *my heart thumping, my blood on fire—waited a minute to give whoever cut the tent time to escape. Then, quieting my heart and nerves for an” instant, I gathered myself and turned backward through the opening. Instantly jumping to my feet, I vaulted into the saddle that was on the back of a white horse that stood there, and, in the midst of veils, of rifle shots, of a pack of howling dogs, we rushed out of the camp. It seemed to me as though a thousand horsemen were in pursuit of me instantly. We galloped up the river to a bend I had seen. Dashing in, we forded it under a fire that made the water boil around us, and were out of water and on the level land to the north of the river before any of the Sioux were half way across. Striking the trail to the Bozeman Pass, I took it, and, knowing it, pushed boldly on, and, though hotly pursued, my horse outlasted theirs, and I escaped. I never drew rein until I dismounted to the wast of the Pass. The

girl saved me. With any other home I should have been recaptured and burned. I hare not got the girt The lore I hare for her the mare has instead. I returned to my post, and made no trade in the Yellowstone that year. “Again. Last winter the snow was on the ground in January, and lor three days I had been hunting dr running antelope. The sun was very bright and my eyes hurt me. I saw specks floating about. Little chains with small links were constantly before me. My eyes burned smartly when I returned to the agency* Daily while hunting I had seen the low black clouds in the north that indicate the formation or marshaling of the winds of the frozen north. Daily the south wind swept them beyond the northern horizon; but the next morning found them looming portentously in the northern sky. On my return to the agency I found a runner had just got in from Belly River, in British America, with important news for me. It was necessary that I should go up at once. I started the next morning. My eyes hurt dreadfully.

“I always go to the Belly River when the snow is ou the ground, by the way of the Sweet Grass Hills, and there I camp one night. One side of the hills is always bare of snow, and there is a spring of good water on the northern side of the central hill. A strong south wind was blowing when I started, but by noon I saw the clouds to the north suddenly rise up. I knew that the marshaling of the north winds was completed! and they were eager for the assault on the soft south wind. On came the black cloud. The south wind still blew fiercely, but it could not stem the assault from the arctic region. Birds flew south before the storm, antelope and deer were running for shelter. I had reached my camping ground, and stood looking far off to the north, seeing the landmarks disappear one by one as the head of the ‘ blizzard ’ reached them and shrouded them in its icy breath. A calm. Then, with a mighty rush and a loud noise, the head of the ‘ blizzard ’ swept past me. The air was filled with particles of ice that cut through almost horizontally, and seemed as if thev would never fall. Colder, even colder, grew the wind, and denser the air as the ice particles thickened. I sought shelter in the rooks. Buckling the clothing on the mare I turned her loose, knowing that she would not leave me. Then I lay down on my blankets, and, wrapping my beaver cloak around me, I tried to sleep. I began thinking, and could not sleep. The buffalo had not come south that winter; and the wolves were gaunt and hungry. As they follow a horseman over the plains in the summer, so they do in the winter, only more of them—and those great, gaunt famine-breeders, the gray and black ones, go in largely increased numbers. I had had a pack of them at my heels all day, and now they cropped up in my thoughts. “Finally I slept. When I awoke it was dark. Holding up my naked hand, I felt the icy sweat of the * blizzard’ strike sharply against it. The roar of the wind still continued. I could not go to sleep again, and I lay waiting for dawn. I waited, it seemed to me, for hours, when I suddenly felt my mare paw my breast. I spoke kindly to her, saying she hail made a mistake. Soon she pawed me again, and I arose to find that all was dark, that I could'not see the white mare. Alarmed, I struck a match under my cloak and looked down to see the blaze. I saw nothing, but the match burned my fingers. With a desolating despondency I realized the fact that the glare of the snow encountered for the past few days had made me snow-blind; that I that I was fifty miles from the nearest honse, and unable to see; that a furious storm was raging. “Stupid, almost wild with horror, I thought I could hear the snuffing of the wolves, and the soft patter of their feet below the wild shriek of the arctic winds. I was simply benumbed with terror. With my eyesight in full power I should have thought the situation dangerous. As it was, I considered it hopeless. The mare recalled me to myself by rubbing her cold muzzle against my face. She saw, that something was wrong with me; but what she could not comprehend. I resolved to saddle her, to feed her, and, after she ate, to mount and let her take her own course. So I fed her the remaining measure of barley and waited for her to eat. Then I saddled up, and, without bridling, mounted, and wrapping my cloak around «me sat steadily in the saddle, awaiting the fnsky action of the highstrung animaL She stood trembling until I told her to go. Then I felt her turn until the ice drops struck obliquely on my right side and back, and she rapidly walked off. Not a motion or movement did she make to discompose my seat.. Wrapped in my cloak, with hood drawn over my face, warm and encouraged with hope, I patiently sat the horse. I could now hear the snarling of the wolves, and my only fear was that they, rendered desperate by hunger, might attack the mare. I dismissed the thought, would not think of it. If they did attack us, we were lost; if they did not, I thought we were safe. All day the ‘ blizzard’ raged and tore icily around and on us. The mare walked rapidly or cantered slowly on. It appeared to me that we had been traveling for days, for weeks, even, when the mare stopped and neighed loudly. Reaching forward I felt the rough stockade. Dismounting, I felt the hinges of the gate. Loudly I called. Then I took my rifle from the saddle and rapidly I handled cartridges into it. At last a sleepy voice from the inside called, ‘ Who is there?’ I answered ‘ Burr—and I am dead snow-blind. Come to me.’ They came, and I was saved—saved for the second time by the white mare. Do you wonder that I, not having the Sioux maiden, love her mere?” 1 sat by the bright fire with my feet high on a stool, and did not answer—simply sat and smoked, and thought of the girl, of the man, of the mare. Leaving me thinking, Bure went to sleep in his chair with a softened face.— Frank WUkeson , in N. Y. Sun.