Browning chief. [volume] (Browning, Mont.) 1941-1953, 1941-11-21

souri, with a band of free trappers,
and then slipped away to recover his
cache If no one would join him, then
he would ride the river alone.
1t required a few days to make a
bull boat by shaping willow basket
about four feet across, covering it
with buffalo hides, well creased and
smoked after they were stretched over
the Willows Smith believed he could
make 100 miles a day down the river,
travelling at night to avoid the In
dams. With his fur packs bound to
the gunwales, his craft was light
enough to hide in the brush in the
daytime. II it grounded, all he had
to do was step out and shove 1t back
to deep water.
John Smith loved the mountains
and their changing moods. He liked
the open life and the rugged noun
tain men, He thrilled to excitement
and the tang Of danger. But from
now on he would take tribute instead
of giving it. So, showing his new craft
out upon the river, he launched him
self upon the road to fortune.
But John had one weakness. He
was subject to violent attacks of neu-
ralgia He had drifted down the Mis-
souri, and portrayed over the country
around the Great falls and was sail
ing freely along one night when his
boat struck a snag and turned over.
John came up wet and shivering. He
saved his boat and his pelts, and,
afraid to make a fire, he crawled I'M
der wet blanket in the brush.
Had Raging Toothache
Before daylight he had a raging
toothache. He was too miserable to
care about Indians so he showed his
bull boat into the current and started
drifting, seeking shelter huddled in
the bottom of the boat. He floated
all day and another night, and at
an island to see on the far bank
trading post-probably old Fort Nc
KenZie.
At the landing he grabbed a pack
of beaver and hustled up to pound
the gate. The commotion brought
yawning clerk who stopped short at
sight of a lone stranger He grinned
when he spotted Smiths swollen jaw.
And for that Smith didn't like him.
Come on. open up! want some
pain killer he demanded.
So! A poacher in company territory,
Ell? The clerk grinned maliciously.
He made no move to open the gate.
Smith repeated his demand.
Its too early" retorted the clerk.
Then, trot out your pain killer.
I've got pelts. I want to trade" Smith
wheedled, nursing his sore jaw.
The clerk turned back into the fort
and soon returned leisurely with a
bottle of laudanum, which he dangled
tantalizingly just beyond Smiths
reach.
Demanded All Furs
You'll have to bring more pelts
than that" he told Smith. You'll
have to bring us all your furs. We
only trade with men who deal with
us alone"
But only want little pain killer"
walled Smith.
Il can't give you part of the bottle.
The 'bushwa' wouldn't like it. And I
can't let you have any at all unless
we get all your trade"
Smith brought up the rest Of his
furs, knowing he was being robbed.
He had to have that pain killer, but
he was going to try to get something
like what his furs were worth. The
clerk argued a while, dangling the
pain killer before Smiths eyes. Then
he brought out some trinkets, and
Smith finally agreed, cursing. to the
trade forced upon him.
Looking past Smith to the river,
the clerk saw a party of Blackfeet,
and magnanimously added a gallon
of liquor to the pile. AS Smith gath
cred up the trinkets the clerk tried
again to take back the laudanum, but
Smith, with his gun ready. grabbed