Chapter 3 THE BLACKFOOT AGENCY

THE next morning they were early on their way, and by noon reached the home of a Canadian Frenchman, formerly in the service of the American Fur Company, but now living on his little ranch on the Teton with his Indian wife and a numerous brood of half-breed children.

From here they kept on up-stream, until just before night they came to another ranch, on the Pend d'Oreille coulée, where lived a man whom Hugh and Joe both addressed as Froggy, also married to an Indian woman.

Just before dark Jack was greatly interested in seeing a procession of five pin-tailed ducks walking solemnly from a little slough to the house. When they reached it the woman drove them into a little coop built of short logs, and closing the door, fastened it with a pin.

"Where did you get your ducks, Froggy?" asked Joe.

"Oh," answered Froggy, "I found a nest out on the prairie at the edge of the slough and watched it until the young ones hatched and then got them and brought them in and raised them. I did have nine, but the coyotes and foxes got away with all but these five. Now I've got 'em trained so that they come up every night, and I shut them up in the house where they'll be safe."

Shortly after they had started next morning Jack asked Hugh some questions about Froggy. It appeared that he had come into the country twelve or fifteen years before and had worked first as a laborer and afterward as a clerk for small individual traders.

"They say," put in Joe, "that he has killed two or three men for their money."

"Yes," said Hugh, "I heard something about that, but nobody that ever talked to me about it really seemed to know anything."

"No," said Joe, "I reckon they never could prove anything against him. Twice men who were traveling through the country and were supposed to have money disappeared on this road and nobody ever knew what became of them. Each time Froggy said that they stopped at his house over night and then started on in the morning, but they never were seen again."

"Well," said Hugh, "we don't know anything about that."

"Hugh," said Jack, "I've been a good deal in the Western country and I'm not a pilgrim any longer, but isn't something going to happen to Froggy some of these days?"

"Why, yes, son," said Hugh, "I reckon some day that somebody will up and kill Froggy, and then the country will be better off; but it isn't your funeral nor yet mine, and we don't want to mix up with things that don't concern us at all."

"No, Hugh, of course, you're right, but it does seem as if the world and the territory would be better off if Froggy did not live here."

"Maybe, maybe," said Hugh, "but, as I say, it isn't your business nor yet mine."

That night they camped on Dupuyer Creek, and Hugh and Joe said that to-morrow they would be at the agency.

"Well," said Jack, "I'll be glad to get there. It's queer, isn't it, the number of times I've been up here and camped with these Piegans that I've never seen their agency, the place which is really their home?"

"Well," said Hugh, "it really has not been their home very long, only since the buffalo gave out. Before that they only came in once in a while, but not long before they saw the last of the buffalo the Government sent out troops to bring them in and tell them that they must stay at the agency.

"That's one reason, I reckon, that they starved, as Joe was telling us the other night. If it hadn't been that the troops kept them there, I believe they'd all have gone up north into Canada and have tried to make the two other tribes, the Blackfeet and the Bloods, give them help. I don't know what help they could have given them, because those people up there must be just as poor as these down here. They all depended on the buffalo and they had nothing else. None of them have any idea of farming, and of course none of them have any cattle."

"But, Hugh," said Jack, "what are they going to do now? The buffalo won't come back; how are they going to live?"

"Why," said Hugh, "the only way they can live is for the Government to support them, to send them out beef and flour and bacon. They've got to be fed until they learn to do something for themselves, either to raise crops or raise cattle, or get jobs as hands on the steamboats or as hands for the ranchmen; but, of course, there are not enough ranchmen in the country to hire even a small part of the able-bodied men among the Piegans."

"Well," said Jack, "they have a pretty melancholy outlook, haven't they?"

"They have, it's true," Hugh answered. "At the same time," he went on, "some of those men are pretty industrious and have a pretty good idea of work, if they only knew how, but as yet they don't know anything. Joe says though-you heard him the other night-that they were trying to learn to farm, but this country up here is so cold that I don't think they can ever do anything with crops. There are a few warm spots where crops might ripen, but they are very few."

About noon the next day they drove down into the valley of a little stream running from the west, and Joe stopped his horses so that they might drink.

"Well, friend," he said to Jack, "when we cross this creek we shall be on the reservation. The Indians have their camps and their cabins up and down this stream, and from here on, wherever there is a creek, there we will see the Indians camped. It is only about eight miles from here to the Agency."

Most of the way was uphill, however, and it was well on in the afternoon before the road passed over the high bluff, and at a distance they saw the agency buildings. These looked gray and inconspicuous, set down in the midst of a wide flat, through which flowed a stream bordered by willows, with a few tall cottonwood trees. As they drew nearer, the buildings seemed to Jack to increase in size, and presently they stopped at the little one-story trading post, a hundred yards below the Agency, that now looked like rather an imposing edifice. From here Jack could see only the stockade, about sixteen feet in height and built of cottonwood logs, which concealed all the Agency buildings behind its walls.

At the store they were warmly welcomed by Joe Bruce and his assistant, Mr. McGonigle. Bruce was, and long had been, one of the characters of the upper Missouri country. He was then only about thirty-six years old, smooth-shaven, keen-eyed, thin and wiry. Hugh had often spoken to Jack about him and Jack looked at him with great interest. He was the son of James Bruce, who was an important figure in the fur trade of the Upper Missouri and long in charge of Fort Union at the junction of the Missouri and Yellowstone Rivers, and later of Fort McKenzie and Fort Brulé, not far from where Fort Benton was built later.

Bruce's mother was a Mandan, and, as Jack learned a little later, lived with her son at the Piegan agency.

Mr. McGonigle was a Georgian, an old Confederate soldier who had come West "with the left wing of Price's army," as the saying used to be in Montana. Of the great number of Southerners that came into Montana in 1862 and '63 it was said in joke that when Price's army was defeated in Missouri in the early part of the war, the left wing got separated from the others and started westward, and never stopped until it reached the Rocky Mountains. Mr. McGonigle had spent some years as a prospector, but after having made and lost several small fortunes, at last became a trader's clerk, which he had now been for many years.

After a brief chat with Joe Bruce, arrangements were made to spread their beds for a night or two in one of his empty buildings, and to live at his mess until they started on their way again. Joe, whose people were camped on another creek further to the northward, was to remain at the Agency for two or three days, and then the whole party would start for St. Mary's Lakes.

While Hugh was talking with Bruce, Jack chatted for a while with Mr. McGonigle, but he was anxious to go up to the Agency and to get inside that gray barrier of logs behind which were hidden many interesting people and things.

Presently Hugh filled his pipe, and after lighting it, rose and said, "Well, son, let's go on up to the Agency and see the agent, and look around and see if we can meet any of our friends."

"All right, Hugh, come on," said Jack, and they set out.

They soon reached the stockade and entered the wide plank gate, which was still in good condition and bore signs of being frequently used. On either side of the gate there were small log buildings, each with a small window, which looked as if they had been built there for purposes of defense; probably, however, they were built only in imitation of the store and warehouse buildings that formerly flanked the gates of all old fur-trading posts. Once within the stockade, they could see the quarters for the employees, a warehouse, a schoolhouse in which were gathered ten or fifteen children, and some other buildings; while in the center of the stockade stood the house occupied by the agent.

In this house they found Major Allen, who welcomed them cordially, and in response to inquiries by Hugh told them something of the terrible conditions that he had found when he had reached there a year or more before and had first met his starving people. He talked with much feeling about their sufferings and the heroic way in which they had borne them, and while he said nothing in definite terms about his predecessor, what his words suggested made Jack's blood boil with indignation. Major Allen asked Hugh and the boys to stay at the Agency as long as they liked, and said that he would like to have them see the Indians at work.

When Hugh and Jack went up to the Agency the next morning they saw in the field just below the stockade a number of Indians standing about a team of horses, and as they drew nearer they could see that Major Allen was giving instructions in the art of plowing to some of the people. When they reached the group, they were busy for some time shaking hands with old friends, whom they had known under far different circumstances, but after the first salutations all turned to watch the work.

A half breed was driving the team hitched to a plow, and the agent was trying to teach the Indians to hold the plow so as to turn a straight furrow. It was new and not easy work for the red men. The handles of the plow jerked from side to side, the point either coming out of the ground or plunging so deeply into it that the man holding the handles was in danger of being thrown forward on his head. Then Major Allen would take the plow and holding it steadily would cut a smooth furrow of even depth.

Old White Calf, the chief, was anxious to learn plowing. He took hold of the handles and, although at first the plow wobbled from side to side and more than once one of the handles struck him viciously in the ribs, he cut a fair furrow for six or eight feet. Then, however, the point ran deep into the ground, and the old man was thrown forward and nearly fell down. Meanwhile, the Indians who were looking on were making jocular remarks and poking fun at the man who happened to be plowing, but he-after he had performed his small stint-had his revenge by making fun of the next victim.

After he had watched them for a little while and enjoyed the fun, Jack had a chance to look on a scene picturesque and beautiful. The wide valley stretched before him with bluffs rising in terraces one after another, the bright green of the willows and cottonwoods marking the course of the stream; to the west the mountains with their clear-cut outlines sharply defined against the blue sky; the gray stockade stood near at hand, and farther off the conical white lodges of the Piegans up and down the creek, with here and there a low log cabin. Outside the fence Indians passed to and fro, some of them on foot, others on horseback, and their bright-colored blankets, beaded belts and knife sheaths gave life and color to the picture.

For some time the work went on, and then the Major asked Hugh and Jack to come up to his house, where they talked over the Indians and the new problems which they had to face.

"It's interesting work looking after these people, but it's discouraging, too," said Major Allen. "The Indians are willing to work, but they haven't any idea how to perform the tasks we set them, so that their efforts are ineffective, and they easily become discouraged. They have never been used to handling horses hitched to wagons, and they don't know at all what horses can do. They hitch these little riding ponies of theirs to a big wagon and then pile it up with much more of a load than the horses can haul, and whip up the team, which strains and tugs along for a short distance, but presently gives out, and the wagon has to be unloaded or else another pair or two of horses must be attached to it.

"The Indians are as willing as can be and they are not afraid of work, but they don't like to keep at it for a long time. They are absolutely ignorant of all farming matters and it will take them some time to learn. Last summer some of them planted little gardens, but they treated them as children would. For example, they often dug up their potatoes to see how fast they were growing, and as soon as they grew large enough to eat they tried to sell them, although if they had left them in the ground they would have continued to grow for a month longer. Now that the Indians have teams and are beginning to learn something about how to use them, they drive up to the mountains and cut wood and haul it down, either to sell or to use themselves in winter. Some of them have built good log cabins in which they pass the winter, but of course in summer they prefer to live in their lodges."

"Well, Major," said Hugh, "you can hardly expect these Indians, who all their lives have been chasing buffalo, to take hold of work at once."

"No," said the Major, "that can't be expected, and I don't look for it. I am very well satisfied with the way they have taken hold. They're willing and they seem honest."

"Yes, I think so," said Hugh, "and from what I can hear they've had such a hard time that I think they're really in earnest in their wish to learn how to work."

"Their loyalty," said the Major, "is one of the things that has struck me the most. The policemen are absolutely faithful. When I enlist them, I make them take an oath, explaining that everybody who serves the Government has to be sworn in, and that they must do as all the other public servants. They take an oath which I like, though perhaps not a very ceremonial one; still they take it as if they meant it, and I believe they do. Have you ever heard them make this oath, Mr. Johnson?"

"No," said Hugh, "I don't reckon I have. I would like to hear it, and so would son here. What is it?"

"When they are sworn," said Major Allen, "they lift up the right hand and, stretching it toward the sky, say, 'The sun is good,' and then, 'The earth is good,' and bending down they touch the ground with the hand; and as they stand up again they say, 'I will obey the orders of my chief, that I may live long with my family.'

"Now these policemen get only eight dollars a month; they're likely to be called on at any time to ride any distance; they have to furnish their own horses, and yet they never, so far as I have heard, complain. They're a good lot of people, and I ask for nothing better than to stay here and work with them, but I hope that I shall never have as bad a time as I had when they were starving during the first two or three months that I was here."

"Yes," said Jack, "that must have been a terrible time."

As they were walking down to the trader's store, Jack, who had been much impressed by Major Allen's talk about the Indians, said to Hugh, "Now, Hugh, what do you think will become of these Indians? Of course, the buffalo never can come back, so hunting days must be nearly over. How are the people to support themselves, or are they to be looked after in future by the Government?"

"Why, son," said Hugh, "I guess that question is puzzling, and it's going to puzzle a lot of smarter men than you and I will ever be. It's a sure thing that these Indians can never make a living in this country by farming. They might make a living by cattle if they had any, or had any means of getting them, but of course the Indians have no money and no means of earning any money to buy cattle with. They certainly can't hire out to work, because there is no one in this country that will hire them and pay wages. If they had cattle and would take care of them they might do well, because this is one of the finest grazing ranges in the world, but you know very well that if the Government were to give each one of these Indians a cow to-morrow, a week hence very few of them would still have his cow. They would kill them and eat them, and then sit around and hope that the Government would give them another. They have got to have a lot of instruction before they will look out for the future."

"Well," said Jack, "you can't blame them. In the past when they wanted food they went out and killed something, and they can't be expected to understand that things are changing."

"No," said Hugh, "I don't expect it of them, but if they don't come to understand it very soon they will have to suffer again just what they suffered two years ago."

"Well," said Jack, "it's mighty hard lines; it's heartbreaking to think of."

"So it is," said Hugh. "I feel mighty badly whenever I think of it, but I reckon it's the law. I expect the white people had to go through an awful lot of suffering before they got to the point where 'most every man realized that he had to work hard for a living, and I reckon if you look around back where you live you'll find that there are a good many people in those big cities there that don't realize this yet."

"Yes," said Jack, "I suppose there are, but these Indians are so kindly and generous and hospitable that I feel a personal sympathy for each one of them that, of course, I don't feel for the inefficient people back East."

"Well," said Hugh, "that's natural, of course. You know these people and you don't know the others."

Soon after they got back to the trader's store dinner was ready, and after dinner they lounged about the store talking with Bruce.