Transcriber’s Note:
Obvious typographic errors have been corrected.
DEAD SHOT;
OR,
THE WHITE VULTURE.
A ROMANCE OF THE YELLOWSTONE.
BY ALBERT W. AIKEN.
NEW YORK:
BEADLE AND ADAMS, PUBLISHERS,
98 WILLIAM STREET.
Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1874, by
BEADLE AND ADAMS,
In the office of the Librarian of Congress, at Washington.
(P. N. No. 2.)
THE
WHITE VULTURE
CHAPTER I. FORT BENT AND THE WAGON-TRAIN.
It was at the close of a bright May afternoon; the last rays ofthe sinking sun shone down gayly upon the broad prairie, throughwhich, like a great yellow serpent, rolled the turbid waters of theYellowstone river—a river that took its rise at the base of theRocky Mountains and then flowed eastward, until it poured its currentinto the great Missouri. Just at the junction of the Yellowstone andthe Powder rivers, the sun’s rays shone down upon the whitewashedwalls of Fort Bent, a frontier post, located at the confluence ofthe two rivers, to guard the wagon-trail to Montana. The advance ofcivilization has now caused the fort to be removed, but at the timeat which we write it was the last halting-place for the wagon-trainsbound for any of the small settlements nestled here and there upon thegolden-streaked rocks of Montana. After leaving Fort Bent, the trailrun by the banks of the Yellowstone, two hundred miles or so, thenturned abruptly north toward the Rocky Mountains. This was called thesouthern trail. The northern route was by the bank of the Missouri.
Fort Bent was garrisoned by a single company of United States troops—ahundred men or so. Under the shelter of the fort, a few trading-houseshad sprung up, designed to supply the wants of the emigrants in powder,ball, blankets, or any of the little articles necessary for a journeyof three hundred miles through the wilderness. For, as we have said,after leaving Fort Bent, the way led through the fertile valley of theYellowstone, a valley abounding in rich grasses, the little clumps oftimber that fringed the river being filled with game, the stream itselfwell stocked with fish—a country that[Pg 10] only needed the strong rightarm of civilization to bloom and blossom like a fruitful garden.
The wagon-trail through this lovely country was not without itsdangers. Near Fort Bent, the fierce Mandan tribe of Indians flourished;their hunting-grounds stretching from the Big Horn river to the littleMissouri. Sometimes, too, wandering bands of the Sioux, the ruthlessmarauders of the Missouri, extended their forays as far as the Powderriver. Deadly foes were they of the Mandan tribe.
And then, after following the wagon-trail along the bank of theYellowstone, passing where the Big Horn river emptied its waters,swollen always by the melting snows of the Rocky Mountains, into thefirst named stream, we enter upon the dominion of the Crow nation,the Indian kings of the north-west—the tribe whose warrior