IT was a clear and beautiful moonlit night. The towering cliffs of Red Buttes cast their shadows to the westward, but in every other direction not a tree nor shrub large enough to shade a Jack rabbit was visible.

Mr. Warne had received the old trapper very cordially, and in a few moments they were sitting side by side upon a portable wagon seat placed upon the ground and were engaged in conversation, while the young ladies half reclined near them upon some bundles and blankets. There being an innate propensity in persons with active social instincts to enliven the embers of a languishing fire when friends gather round it, Ben and Fred piled wild sage brush upon the glowing coals, and soon the cheerful flames blazed welcome to all the boys (except Paul, who was on guard) and lighted up the faces of the campers as they drew nigh to the circle. The old deacon was called from his tent, for though dignified and circumspect, as all good deacons are supposed to be, he was not averse to association with younger, and more convivial companions. A post of honor was assigned him upon an empty soap box, near the host.

Big Pete was there, and after approaching the radiance sidewise with one arm before his face to shield it from the fierce glow of the fire, with the other hand he pulled from the burning heap a long twig, the end of which was a live coal; and drawing back to a safe position solemnly lighted his pipe; then slowly doubling himself together like a jack-knife, he sank to a soft and safe anchorage upon a bag of horse feed. Dan and his boon companion, Noah, floated in later and gradually adjusted themselves to the uneven surface of the least rugged boulders that were near at hand. Dan had traveled rather extensively for those days, and had made a trip to Pike's Peak in search of gold; in fact he was something of an adventurer, a good scholar, and a man well informed on general topics. His father had been a physician and was an early Wisconsin pioneer.

"What do you think of the situation out here, Mr. Soon?" said Dan to the old trapper.

"I believe that there is trouble ahead," was the reply. "The Government agents have not been square with the Indians and the Indians know it. The Indians will do as they agree until the whites go back on their promises, or do mean things to them; and they have done it. Why, there is that Captain of Russell and Major's train who brags that he has killed more than a hundred Indians, and that he will shoot an Indian at sight every good chance he gets, and now comes this treaty at Laramie that every one knows is a fraud. These Indians up here are dead sure to fight for their hunting grounds."

"I think Mr. Soon is right," said Dan. "We have been talking nearly every day about these Indian troubles, and people forget that an Indian has a sense of honor and will stand by an agreement as faithfully as the average white man will. There are some qualities in Indian character not generally understood, which are as interesting as their savagery and show how they regard a contract." Dan then pointed to a young fellow who was stretched out upon the ground near the fire and said, "Now the parents of that chap there and my parents were close neighbors in Wisconsin 'way back in the thirties. Being older than he is, I remember an incident which all the few who were there were familiar with. These pioneers all lived in log cabins. This young fellow's father, on one occasion, was endeavoring to conduct some negotiations with a band of Winnebago Indians, who were assembled in front of his cabin. The settlers had learned a few words used by that tribe, but not enough to enable them to converse intelligently, and so the bargain was not concluded. In a thoughtless moment, and with a view to amuse his young wife, who stood near the open door, he addressed the Chief, and directing his attention to his own spouse, asked if he would swap squaws. The proposition was received with an approving nod and a significant grunt, which was regarded by the father as proof that the Winnebago chief comprehended the humorous point of the proposition, and understood that the white man's talk often means the opposite from what his words imply. The Indians departed and all went well until the following day, when the young wife, casting a glance from the door, observed the chief approaching with his band. At his side was his squaw. It required but a moment for the mother to comprehend the situation. The father was not at home, but she instantly slammed the door, pulled in the latch string (used then in all our doors) and seizing that young fellow, then only two or three months old, slid out of a back window and struck across the country for the cabin of a neighbor. When the father came home, the house was vacant and no wife was in hearing to answer to his many shouts. After a while he rounded up his wife at the neighbor's house where she was hiding. The father, on learning what had occurred, said he didn't propose to joke any more with the Indians."

"I know all about that affair," continued Dan, "and it shows that when an Indian makes a trade, whether it is of wives or the occupation of lands, he expects to carry it out, and if the other fellows don't do it, of course it's the beginning of trouble and the end of confidence. They know nothing about dickering and double-meaning phrases."

We soon gave the old trapper an opportunity to relate some incidents in his life in the West, which had been full of interesting experiences. He told of the important part the fur traders and trappers had played in Wyoming and the far West; of their exposures and perils, and how they had been the earliest explorers, giving names to the streams and many of the mountains. "But," he added, "this frontier life has not all consisted of Indian fighting and hunting," and with this statement he knocked the ashes from his pipe upon the heel of his boot, and from a huge pouch of tobacco, slowly refilled it as if to give time for his suggestions to find a response. It was evident that something was coming into his mind that he was about ready to impart. Miss Margaret immediately said that she was glad to hear of something in western life besides fighting, and that with such glorious nights as she had seen in Wyoming, she believed that now and then something should occur that is not mixed up with bloodshed.

"Well, Miss," said Tom, after taking a long pull from his pipe, "your friend has told you about Indian agreements, and the trading of wives. I'll tell you one story that I know all about. Among the old trappers and traders of early days, there were many young Frenchmen. I think they made more money out of the business than all the rest of the traders put together. There was one fine young fellow, whose name was Jules La Chance. He was working for the old American Fur Company for quite a while up north of here in the country of the Crow Indians. Now the Crows had 'most always been on pretty good terms with us fellows, and in fact with all the whites, but they were always in trouble with the Sioux. The Crow women were more attractive than the women of most of the other tribes. They knew how to tan skins very finely, so that they would be very soft and white, and the Crow girls were able to dress themselves very attractively. The hair of all the Crow Indians was long, and the women parted it carefully. Many of the trappers and traders had been married to Indian girls, and Jules finally ran across the daughter of one of the Crow chiefs whose name was Oo-je-an-a-he-ah, who he believed would suit him pretty well as a wife. He could speak Crow a little, as well as Sioux, so he told her that he liked her pretty well, whereupon she said that she liked him pretty well, and that was about all that happened that day—but it meant very much to an Indian girl.

"The next day Jules started off eastward on some work that he had to do in the Sioux territory, where some of the trappers and traders of his Company were engaged. The Indians there, however, at that time were making considerable trouble for the four or five white men. One of the traders concluding that a little whiskey, of which the Indians are fond, would help to soften the feeling between them, gave a few warriors who had come into their camp as much of the stuff as they wanted for present use. In a short time they had become pretty full and very noisy, but finally quieted down. It was well into the night when Jules, who sat near the door of the lodge, felt a touch upon his shoulder. Quickly turning his head he observed a Sioux girl fifteen or sixteen years of age, whom he had previously seen in the near-by Indian village, and who had heard him speak in her native tongue. She now beckoned him to come to her, and informed him that the Sioux had already planned to take their property and possibly their lives; that she had come directly from near a lodge in the village where she had overheard some warriors discussing the plans, which also involved a raid into the country of the Crows where the trappers had their headquarters. She said the ponies belonging to Jules and his party had already been taken, and asked Jules to follow her. All this was condensed in a few whispered words. Jules re-entered their camp where the Indians were quietly resting. One or two of them, who were apparently somewhat conscious of what was happening, were again permitted free access to the whiskey. Jules, quietly and unobservedly, slipped some guns to the outside from under the tent, and soon was able to signal his companions to meet him outside. He handed them their guns, and then whispered to them to follow him and not speak.

"He found the girl standing erect in the darkness exactly where he had left her. Taking Jules by the hand, she led him with swift footsteps toward the river which, running northward, empties itself into the great Missouri. The entire party followed silently. Not a word was spoken until the river bank was reached. Then, to the surprise of all, the girl addressed them in very fair English, and told them that her father when living was a fur trader with M. G. Sublette of the Rocky Mountain Fur Company and her mother was a daughter of a Chief of the Minnecongoux band of Sioux. She said that her father had always been friendly with the Sioux, but was killed in a raid of that tribe by an accidental shot.

"'You have no horses now,' she said, 'as they have already been taken by my people, but here is a boat that will carry you down the stream nearer to your home camp, and I wish you to escape quickly, and I hope when the trouble is over to see you again.'

"One of the traders ventured to strike a light that they might get a better glimpse of their benefactress, and more than one of them recognized the dress and features of the Indian girl as one who had attracted their attention on the preceding day in the village. The Indian tastes of the girl had found expression in an abundance of beads and a fine deerskin dress, but the long black hair hung in two braids at her back. Her complexion was rather fair, and the mouth was more delicately formed than is usual with the full-blooded Indians. Her name in the tribe, she said was Oo-jan-ge (Light).

"There was no time to be lost. Jules had upon his little finger a plain gold ring, which he removed and slipped upon a finger of the Indian girl, saying to her, 'Keep that to remember me, but take care of yourself and don't get into trouble for what you have done.' The girl at once started on a swift pace toward the village, and was soon lost from sight in the darkness.

"The situation was simple. Their horses had been captured since the sun had set and the girl had surely shown Jules' party the way of escape, for here was a boat quite like a large tub made of skins and lying on the shore. It was sufficiently large to float them. There were also rude paddles, which were all that was necessary to steer the craft down the stream. The men were soon afloat, and when the morning dawned they were more than thirty miles farther down stream. They pulled upon the western bank at a point which had been previously visited by two of the party. There they succeeded in killing an antelope, parts of which they managed to cook without any regular cooking utensils.

"The first thought calling for action, that had arisen in the mind of Jules, was to proceed at once to the head Chief of the Crows and convey to him information concerning the impending raid of the Sioux. By the morning of the following day the trappers were at the Crow village. To whom could Jules more properly convey the tidings than to Oo-je-an-a-he-ah, to whom he frankly told the story of his recent adventure? In less than an hour several hundred Crow Indians in detached bodies were skulking to the eastward and surely enough on the following morning met the advancing Sioux who, being completely surprised, met with disastrous defeat, the survivors falling back across the river after heavy loss.

"The Crows returned to camp with numerous scalps, but none of the warriors except the Chief knew from what source came the information that led to the victory. Jules, however, was at once a hero in the lodge of the Chief. A dog dinner was served for him, which was regarded as the noblest banquet that could be set before an honored guest. Oo-je-an-a-he-ah was gratified that one upon whom she looked as her fiancÉ should be in such high favor with her distinguished father.

"Jules went to his camp some miles distant, toward the border lands, and reflected on what had occurred. He well knew that his life and that of his companions, and possibly all their property, had been saved through the self-sacrifice of a young Indian girl, the granddaughter of a Chief. The morning came and it happened that one Paul Des Jardines, who, with a small escort was crossing from the Missouri River westward, observed a solitary Indian girl standing near their pathway. She was slender and had delicate features, with complexion not so dark as is common with most of the tribes, and decidedly like that of the Mandan tribe. Attracted by the strange appearance, Paul addressed the girl in broken French with the question 'Are you a Sioux?' To the surprise of his party she replied, also in broken French, in the affirmative. With careful diplomacy she sought to ascertain if those rough voyagers were really friendly and trustworthy. Becoming satisfied that it would be safe to tell her story, she related how, through her effort to save some white traders, who were camped near the village, her father's band had met with a serious reverse, and she was suspected by her people of disloyalty, which was the cause of a disaster to the Sioux. She now felt compelled to flee for her own safety.

"'Do you know who the men were that you were trying to save?'

"'No,' she replied, 'except that one of them was named Jules.' And in an innocent manner she added, 'He gave me this ring. If I could find him I know he would protect me until I could make peace with my tribe, for he knows that my father was a French trader.

"'I, too, am French,' said Paul, 'and we will take you to where Jules is in the Crow country. I know him, as we came up the Missouri from St. Louis the same time.' So Oo-jan-ge, who was hungry and weary, received food and a pony to ride, and started with Paul's party to the land of the Crows, the enemy of her own people.

"In the meantime Oo-je-an-a-he-ah and Jules had talked together of their future, and the Chief had given his royal sanction to their alliance. On the second evening after Jules' arrival at his camp, a broad-shouldered, heavily-moustached man entered the camp, and called for Jules La Chance. 'He is up at the Crow village,' was the reply.

"'Will you send for him to come here at once, and say to him that Paul Des Jardines desires to see him on an important matter of business?'

"'Well, I'll go for him myself,' said the man, 'but Jules is on rather an important mission himself. We think that he is arranging to take the daughter of the Chief of the Crows, and Father DeSmet, the Jesuit missionary, is in the village, and Jules having been brought up a Catholic, you know what that means.'

"'Then rush—it is the more important that you bring him here at once.'

"In an hour Paul and Jules were sitting on a rock near their camp, and Paul told of the very young Indian girl, the finest looking one he had ever seen, who had been compelled to fly to the hills because of her having saved Jules and his party, an act which also caused a defeat of the Sioux, because of information which he (Jules) must have given to the Crows.

"'Well,' said Jules, 'that girl, Oo-jan-ge, is the finest I ever saw, but the fact is, I am in a devil of a fix. This girl here whom I wish to marry is a jewel, the finest in the tribe, and I almost fixed the matter up to marry her before I saw Oo-jan-ge. Father DeSmet is in the village and Oo-je-an-a-he-ah has a notion that she would like to give him something to do that is not common in the tribe, a Catholic wedding. My mother was a Catholic, but I am little or nothing in those matters.'

"'Well,' said Paul, 'Oo-jan-ge is now right over here at my camp. As we were traveling through the Sioux country she put herself under our protection until she could see you. She feels that she is regarded as a traitor by her tribe, and is a voluntary exile and I am going to see that justice is done for her.'"

Tom Soon had proceeded thus far in his story, when he paused to relight his pipe, but before scratching the match he looked directly toward the Warne girls and said, with an air of great seriousness, "Now young ladies, understanding that both of these Indian girls loved Jules La Chance, and that he was as much attracted to one as to the other, what should he do?" The discussion in reply would have given Tom time to have lighted a dozen pipes. Jules was pledged to the Crow girl, and that was a sacred contract said one. Well enough, said another, he gave Oo-jan-ge his ring, and if she had not sacrificed herself probably Jules might not have lived to marry either girl. "Well, tell us quickly how he did finally solve the problem," asked another. "Easiest thing in the world," replied Tom,—"if you only know how. He married both of the girls, of course. There was no other square way of doing the business. Of course, Father DeSmet was not in it, but the thing was all fixed up in good shape. Jules was a square man and wouldn't do a mean trick. You have heard the old adage, 'When in Rome do as the Romans do,' so when among the Indians, do as the Indians do.

"Hongs-kay-de, the son of a well-known Puncah Chief, and who also became 'The great Chief,' as his name indicates, married four girls in one day. They were the daughters of as many leading men of his tribe, the ages of each being between twelve and fifteen years. Hongs-kay-de himself was only eighteen. Of course, he distinguished himself in this act, but his bravery made him the hero of his tribe. The fathers of the four brides were present as parties to the transaction. Later Mr. Chouteau of St. Louis, the fur trader, and Major Sanford, the agent for the Upper Missouri Indians—in the thirties, with Catlin the artist, all were guests at the home of the young chief and saw all the brides, who were reported to be very happy. The event is a matter of history. The Indian girls usually mature and marry young. Among the warring tribes so many men are killed in battle that some means must be adopted to give all the girls a square deal for a home. It is, therefore, common for the chiefs of many of the tribes to have more than one wife. A few of the ranchmen have two Indian wives. I have told you of the incident that you may know more of western life, as it sometimes is where there is no law to regulate these matters, but I must now say good-night." And Tom was off toward his camp. Having no confirmation of the story of Jules' wedding I am unable to vouch for its historic accuracy.

In the morning we made an early start. We were informed that from Red Buttes a road laid out by J. M. Bozeman in 1863 branched off, running through the country of the Crow Indians to the Missouri River in Montana. Bozeman City received its name in honor of that pioneer. In the year preceding that of our visit, this so-called "cut-off" was the scene of several serious Indian skirmishes, in which General Sully figured conspicuously. In one of the engagements he reported having killed about six hundred Sioux Indians. Our course, however, took us along the old Oregon trail toward South Pass. Crossing a barren valley of alkaline deserts, we reached the soda lake, which is indicated on the charts of the old explorers. There were two double teams there from the Bear River Valley, the wagons of which were being loaded with the saleratus, which they stated was pure. Such employment seemed rather hazardous in view of the existing Indian troubles. On former trips, they had received thirty-five cents per pound for their loads. Professor W. H. Reed of the University of Wyoming states to me that the soils in this part of Wyoming are mostly clay and contain soda deposited in ancient times, in the mesozoic age. The clays are exceedingly rich in alkaline salts or the salts of sodium. The melting snows and rains penetrate these soils, dissolving the soda, and it is washed into the sinks. The waters evaporate leaving the soda as a salt in the bed of the lakes. Professor Reed, who has thoroughly prospected these lakes, reports having found over 12 feet in depth of solid crystals. It glistened in the sunlight as if it might be free from foreign matter.

Four miles farther on we crossed the Sweetwater River and camped. Near this point is Independence Rock, a conspicuous, though not a lofty, granite dome, which has long been a landmark on that trail. It is mentioned in the chronicles of the first Mormon emigrants, who camped there June 21, 1847, at which time the names of some persons were found painted upon one of its cliffs. So far as I can learn, both from written and oral accounts, it is not now known who gave the Rock its name. Mention of it by its present name is made in Fremont's reports of his explorations, also in the reports of the Reverend Samuel Parker, who visited it in 1835. Again, in 1836, Parker, with his bride, and the Reverend Marcus Whitman and his bride, paused here on their remarkable wedding tour, which has become historic. These two young brides appear to be the first white women that ever crossed the Continent. Independence Rock, therefore, seems to have been a halting place for all travelers on the Oregon trail, and was known as such before that pathway received a name.