An Indian Prank

A prank recalled in the February 15, 1907 Mail is worth retelling, even though it may be considered politically incorrect in this day and age. The event occurred in the Eagle canyon area after the East Fork flows into Middle Fork. The article headline read “PLAYED INDIAN” and then detailed:

 

“The following “Indian” story or rather early day escapade in which some well-known Philipsburg people figure, but which has never been published is contributed by one of the Mail’s subscribers. Along in the summer of 1888 your subscriber made a trip to what is known at present as the George Albert placer diggings on upper Rock Creek. Crossing the stream just above Eagle canyon I passed near by the camp of a sextet of Philipsburg’s old time famous fishermen chaperoned by the well known old timer Frank D. Brown, formerly known as “Sandbar.” In the party were Peter Larson now a prosperous rancher of lower Flint creek valley, James Riley, Ed Nagle, Robert Sutherland and George Hammond. The last four named have long since passed on to more congenial hunting and fishing grounds where the hostile Indian has no terrors.

 

After a brief chat I proceeded on my way and on reaching the diggings found the camp deserted. I concluded the boys, Sterling Price, Harry Mallet and a Missourian whose name I cannot just now recall had gone hunting. I picketed my cayuse and found a shady place to rest and await their return. About three o’clock in the afternoon Price and the Missourian arrived in camp and informed me Mallet had gone to the ‘Burg the evening before and would shortly return.

 

While Price was getting supper Mallet arrived accompanied by a liberal package of Billy Lang’s famous snake bite remedy which although vile tasted good out there away from home and civilization and we all imbibed pretty freely. Mallet spoke of passing the Brown fishing camp and suggested we give them an old-fashioned Indian scare. By that time the whiskey was working nicely and I was in for most any kind of a game…

 

{They set out to a spot that I believe was Riva Ridge in Eagle Canyon.] Arriving there a little early we retired to an inviting place among the cliffs to afford seclusion, as well as a fine view of the fisherman’s camp. The fishermen’s camp was pitched in a pretty, open spot surrounded by willows and the Rock Creek running close by. The bottle was freely passed and as our spirits rose the shades of night began to spread over the canyon. In the fishermen’s camp a bright fire was lighting up the landscape. It was evident that one of the party had fallen in the creek and was drying his pajamas and other wearing apparel at the fire. From the distance it seemed as if a long thin duster was about all the raiment the fellow had on. The moon was just rising when we concluded the time was about ripe and the fun began.

 

We fired a volley and the Missourian let out a few war whoops that would have done credit to any buck Indian that ever lived—In this connection let me tell you this Missourian could yell and then some and war whoops were his long suit. In a moment all was chaos in the fishermen’s camp. I heard “George don’t leave me.” Implying it was Hammond and Brown. Hammond being a foot racer. They headed for the Porter Ranch five miles away. The duster was fanning the breeze behind like a boys kite until they disappeared in the twilight. Our guns saluted and the Missourian bid them god-speed until the war-whoops were re-echoed among the cliffs of Eagle canyon as if the place was infested by a thousand Indians…..

 

Even years after the Indian scare if anyone would happen to express himself in the presence of either Brown or Larson that he did not think there were Indians on Rock Creek at the time he would invariably meet a reply that there were and plenty of them.”

 

The February 22, 1907 Mail carried the following response (that I have edited to shorten) in a letter to the editor about the “Indian Prank”

 

“As I am one of the members of the fishing expedition that was so well written up in your last week’s paper, … The country it happened in was a pretty good Indian one even then. It wasn’t settled up and was rough enough to suit anyone… The persons who were in the “scare” as your writer calls it were George Hammond, Ed Nagle, Frank D. Brown, Peter Larsen and myself. {This would mean the writer was James Riley, who was deceased?}

 

We had Mr. Brown’s light wagon and black team, Mag and Mike. Also his white saddle mare. Hammond had a roan horse of his fathers. He and I rode the saddle horses, the team taking the balance of the outfit… I think it was about the last of August 1884… We came out to fish and hunt chickens and had no gun with us but a little sporting rifle brought by Pete. Hammond had a Colt .45.

 

I would say that before starting out Mr. Brown met Al Porter and told him we were coming out for a week’s hunting and fishing and asked the loan of a rifle…Porter said we could have a couple anytime we wished…. As it turned out, instead of going by Porter’s we took a lower route and entered the valley three miles or more below his place, going still further down to make camp.

 

Now as to the linen duster, it belonged to Hammond. When he left camp it went with him and when he started no one asked him “to wait.” That duster was torn up the back and was generally knocked out before I first saw it…. This night we sat up late and it must have been twelve o’clock when we crawled into bed. There was little moon… I remember that the subject of our talk that night was the killing of Joy, Hayes and Elliott over in McKay gulch a few miles west of us (By the Nez Perce in 1877)… Hammond was in bed with Mr. Brown’s duster and all when the shooting on the opposite side of the creek from our camp commenced. He lit out of bed, grabbed up the lariate [sic], picket pin with it and barebacked hit the hike… He took the .45 with him and lost it before he got to the Porter ranch.

 

These are facts here. The shooting on the hill across the way was all six shooter work. The yells were those of Indians and not white men. Finally the yells died away and all was quiet again. Mr. Brown said the Indians had probably ran down some miners on McKay and caught him where the shooting occurred...( The group then decided to leave Pete and Nagle in the willows and the others would go to Porter’s and return with firearms)..

 

I think it was about one o’clock when he left Porter’s. (Porter fell over Nagle lying in the bushes and they fell in the creek)…The boys felt uneasy and the fact that our fire must have been seen by the Indians did not help matters any. They concluded to put some bedding on the grey mare and return to Porters. (the gun accidently discharged and the mare got loose ).. Nagle told me long after that he never met any one man in his life that had so wide a range of oaths as Mr. Brown did. As for Larsen, what he had to say was in Norwegien… Pete offered Mr. Brown then and there fifty dollars for the mare. He said he would like to kill her on sight..

 

The same day we returned to camp, packed up and went home… ..only one man in this world reckless enough to undertake any such job and that was Sterling Price. But he was brave enough not to do it… This is the true story of that stampede, Mr. Editor.”

 

Who wrote the letter remains a mystery, maybe it was  Larsen or was it Brown?