Powerful Blackfeet.....

(Cont. from last week)

A Horse Stealing Expedition

After being admitted as a warrior, Many Tail Feathers participated in many battles of varying importance and in all of which skill and cunning played a most important part. In telling of his past life, this old chief proves very interesting. He states his most narrow escape from death was in a foray with the Cheyenne Indians. Leaving the Piegan camp on Two Medicine river, it being in the fall of the year, and the time when the leaves were beginning to turn, Many Tail Feathers, accompanied by six other warriors, following the Marias river, soon reached the place commonly known as Goosebill. Thence they cut across the plains to the Missouri, and camped at an old Indian camping ground, near some springs.

The party was now in the danger zone and it was necessary to keep a sharp lookout at all times for signs of other Indians, who would be very apt to be enemies as all of the Piegans had been left in camp on the Two Medicine. Traveling very carefully they soon reached a place known among the Indians as Owl Mountains. They camped on one of the creeks near here, and the following morning saw an Indian camp on a neighboring stream. Carefully approaching the strange camp, they soon determined these to be Cheyennes, and immediately plans were started looking to the stealing of the Cheyenne horses that night. Returning to their own camp, a guard was posted and preparations made for the contemplated raid.

Approaching the Cheyenne camp that night, they were successful in stealing some of the Cheyenne horses without arousing the suspicions of the owners, who no doubt were out on the same sort of an expedition. After securing the horses they wanted, and after all of the party had returned to their appointed meeting place, the start for home on Two Medicine was made. All were in a joyful mood and rode hard, as they realized that as soon as the horses were missed the Cheyennes would at once take up the trail and start in pursuit. And, that is just what did happen.

Fight with the Cheyennes

About noon a party of mounted warriors were plainly visible on the trail. The country was somewhat open at the point where the pursuers were first detected, and the chase soon resolved itself into a run for the brush along a creek a few miles distant. The Piegans were soon overtaken, and in the excitement, Many Tail Feathers’ brother, Coat, had trouble with the stolen horse which he was riding. The horse began to buck and plunge, throwing the rider. In relating this incident, Many Tail Feathers stated, “I would not leave my brother but remained with him, and had a hard time getting him on my horse behind me, the Cheyennes shooting at us all the time with guns and arrows. No sooner had he got on my horse than the Cheyennes surrounded us. We expected to be killed at any minute, and started to sing our war songs and prepare to die as warriors like us should die. Just as I got my brother across my horse with me and we were preparing for another run to the brush, we heard a shot, and looking back, saw Little Dog get off his horse, he later being killed. In the meantime, my brother fell from behind me, and leaving our horses, all ran for the brush.

Reaching this ambush, we found two of our party, and the Cheyennes coming along began chasing the four of us, and we began to give fight. There being but two guns in our entire party, and only about a dozen rounds of ammunition, we soon ran out of cartridges. As the brush was very thick, it was impossible to use our bows and arrows, so the fight developed into a rock throwing contest.

We tried to save our arrows, and soon stopped even throwing rocks at our enemies, for we had had all the fight we wanted. Our purpose and desire was to escape, if possible. We lost two men in the running fight, Little Dog and Takes Gun on Top. One of our number managed to escape and, traveling alone, reached the Piegan camp about the same time we did. We wounded some of the Cheyennes, and just before I got chased in to the brush, I got in a lucky shot and killed their chief, but as the fight was hot, I had no opportunity to get his scalp. Of the seven men who were in this party, I am now the only living member.

Many Tail Feathers, who is one of the very few surviving Blackfeet warriors who actually took part in the fights of the early days, has many an exciting story to unfold of adventure on the plains and in the mountains of Montana. He is now more than 85 years old. During the winter months he makes his home with is daughter in Browning, and for pastime smokes the white man’s tobacco and tells stories of the past. In the summer, he is quite apt to be at Glacier Park, extending the hand of welcome to the eastern tourists. Print this post