The Hardin tribune-herald. [volume] (Hardin, Mont.) 1925-1973, 1936-12-18

which, to us, seem tensely dramatic.
He has witnessed the hanging of men
for horse thieving. He has seen men
shot in fights. He himself was once
wounded by an Indian bullet, and once
he was captured and held prisoner
in a Grow camp. He has served the west
in many capacities, meanwhile making
his living by hunting, fishing, cutting
wood for river boats, driving stage
coach, freighting for the Mormons. He
was a roustabout on river boats, load
ing and unloading provisions for the
soldiers at Fort Lincoln before the Gus
ter massacre. In the spring of 1874,
while the E. H. Durphy was chugging
it's way up to Fort Lincoln, John was
second cook, and then, for a few days,
first cook.
Cook With An Officers Men
He was about 10 years old. There was
a big crowd of passengers on the boat,
he says, soldiers, civilians and EASTERN
ers on their way to. Fort Lincoln where
the Seventh was stationed. John had
coffee to the officers, and he didn't
particularly fancy his job, for all the
while the further western plains seemed
calling to him and he was itching for
a real mans job. And so, by the time
they reached Fort Lincoln, he had
managed to stir up a quarrel with the
pastry cook. He admits he got sassy"
and pouted in the cabin for a day. The
captain put him off the boat, explain
work as cooks.
On the boat there had been a barber
named Foster who had excited John
with the notion that big money could
be made by fishing and selling the
catch to river boats. Foster equipped
John with fishing tackle and the boy
went alone up above Bismarck. But this
first venture into the realms of high
finance proved. disastrous, for those
We're the days when enmity between
Indians and the whites flared quickly
lines when an Indian bullet Whined
from behind q butte. It clipped his ear
and wounded him, although not so
seriously that he could not run. And
run he.4did, cas fast as his young legs
could carry. him, giving no thought to
fishing tackle; The hooks purchased
by Foster may, John says. still be dang
ling somewhere in the Missouri for all
ne knows. When he reached Bismarck
he was broke, glad to get a job clean
ing stables for his board, sleeping in
the hay. He was discouraged. but never
did he quite abandon the hope of some
day: getting out onto Montana plains.
That spring and summer he hoed po-
tatoes. helped drive mules on the prai-
RE, worked on the old May Lowrie
under Captain Brithwaite who, John
recalls, could swear like a streak of blue
lightning;
Into Montana At Last .
Eventually Johns chance came. In
the spring Of 1875 he shipped as roust-
about or the Josephine, loaded with
flour. headed for Fort Benton and Car
rol. In his memory those days are
marked by. grueling hard work. At
Spread Eagle the Josephine got stuck
on a sandbar and the cargo had to be
unloaded, carried across the river and
then reloaded. BY the time the boat
REACHED Carroll, John was sick. The
mate put him off and the boy, then
19 years old, went up into the Rockies
alone, hunting, selling hides at Fort
Benton. It was then he met Warfield
who was running stage coach lines be-
tween Carol and Helena and needing
q young driver not afraid of hard work
or loneliness or Indians. John assured
Warfield" earnestly that he wasn't