The Hardin tribune-herald. [volume] (Hardin, Mont.) 1925-1973, 1935-06-21
(By FISK G. ELLIS)
ON TWO ON

UN TWO PARTS-PARI ONE)
"Tell me about going to the agency
when I was little," I pleaded, leaning
against mothers knee one lonely,
les. What q saga the story Of that
journey was to my youthful mind. To
me its men and women we're heroic
adventures of the first water. No
matter how many times retold, I
never tired of hearing it again and
was continually begging mother or
n Of my brothers to recount its
tales.
Although SO years have passed since
I last heard it told my interest has
not waned. In truth, it is still 50 great
that now I am gathering the fragments
left after SO years of forgetting and
Stringing them, like varicolored beads
of different sizes, on a thread of imagi-
nation into a retold tale of what a
handful of pioneers once did n frontier
days to carry on"
1t was a risky venture, as I see it
now, to attempt a midWinter wagon
journey with women and children from
Helena to the Teton and the old Black
feet Indian agency near the site of the
present town of Choteau. However, it
was not only attempted but actually
quick dash such as the a~utomobiliSt
would make today but a matter Of
fortitude and slow, patient toll. Its
participants trusted not to speed to
get through before a storm struck, as
we would do now, but to their ability
to endure and survive if a blizzard did
strike. and SO fought their way through
weather and over roads that would
bring disaster under modern modes of
travel.
Less than six months old at the time,
I took no part in the activities of the
journey except in a sort OF musical
way. I was simply along, a care. a
hindrance and an annoyance. To hear
my immediate family tell it / n after
years, I was a sort Of miniature siren
going strong most of the time. For con-
Venience in telling this story, I shall
call myself the Siren.
The antecedents from which this
story grew were dealings between the
Blackfeet Indians and the whites.
been fighters for generations back. Be-
set from the east by the Sioux, from
the south by the Crows, they had re-
PEELED these raiders of their hunting
grounds valiantly for many years. In
deed, it appears they were as often the
attackers as the attacked and stole as
many horses from the Sioux and the
them and, withal, took their fair share
of ScalpS.
The truth is that horse stealing was
made a sort of inter-tribal sport from
which all tribes derived as much zest
as did our ancestors from their tourna-
ments and, probably, with no more IA
talities. Between buffalo hunting and
the weaklings of the Blackfeet were
quickly eliminated and only a body Of
hardy, vicious warriors remained.
It had been a bitter resistance waged
by the Blackfeet against the invasion
of their domain by the white IA Ever
since the time Of Lewis and Clark they
had been tmbued with q special fond
for white scalps. They were will
ing that white traders should build
trading posts on their frontiers, where
they might exchange furs and robes
for guns, blankets, knives and ammuni-
ton, but demanded that the whites
leave unmolested their buffalo and
selves the special privilege of scalping
any white man caught far enough away
from the stockades.
The white men, then as today, re-
garded themselves as beings Of special
privilege and insisted on killing buf-
faloes and trapping beavers wherever
they chose. Many a nan lost his scalp
garded it right for them to kill the In
dams buffaloes, but as depredations
and atrocities any retaliatory acts on
the part of the Indians. The whites
~encroached, the Indians defended and
retaliated. Such was the situation up
to 1870.
The killing OF Malcolm Clark in
August of 1869 brought a crisis. White
settlers in outlying localities seemed
no longer safe. Emphatic representa-
lions were made to authorities at
Washington. At last orders arrived at
Fort Shaw, military headquarters for
Montana, to subdue the Blackfeet.
Baker marched. A Blackfeet village
was encamped on the Marias. At day
light the troops were in position un-
suspected by the sleeping Indians. IN
ground, bucks, squaws, and papooses,
old and young, fell. It is called the
battle of the Marias. The fight on the
Little Big Horn is called the Custer
massacre" It is all in how you look
AMM.