#title Mountainman
#subtitle The Unparalleled Opportunities Afforded The First Free Traders and Trappers to Penetrate the Massive Openings of the Rocky Mountain Region, to View Children of the Wilderness in Their Primitive Moods. Jim Bridger was Typical Mountainman
#author Dan R. Conway
#source The Montana Free Lance (Glendive, Montana), February 11, 1927. <[[https://mthspublic.newspapers.com/article/the-jordan-times/208766276/][mthspublic.newspapers.com]]>
#date February 11, 1927
#topics mountain men, half-finished error correcting,
#lang en
#pubdate 2026-10-21T23:50:26.646Z
“The shadow crawls up canyon walls; the
rim rocks flush to pink
A sleepy night hawk lurches up among
the pines to soar,
And we can hear a thirsty deer tiptoeing
down to drink
Among the glimmering birches on the
hazy canyon floor.
Sister, sister, it seems a glaring pity—
Somewhere there Is a city, and one time
there was a war.
—Copyrighted by Badger Clark. From “In the Hills” one of a collection of poems entitled “Sun and Saddle Leather.”
IT was back in the summer of 1885, and young Charlie Russell and Teddy Blue were riding across the range of the Judith Basin, exploring the plains and buttes as they traversed and passed them. At a point along the old Indian trail which they followed, lay heaped and bleached, an ancient pile of buffalo bones. As was usually the custom with these two, they thereupon fell to reflection upon the history which might lay concealed beneath these relics of a forgotten past. They pictured, in their minds, a band of Indians and a buffalo run many, many years before, and it was Teddy Blue who solemnly voiced the thought harbored in both of these young minds: “Charlie,” he said, “I wish I had been a Sioux Indian 100 years ago.”
I happen to know that, today, this same Teddy Blue, (perhaps the most typical of the surviving children of the cattle era), now a man well advanced in years, still cherishes this appreciation of the habits and privileges of the primitive native; and, this is just where Teddy Blue and I have a great deal in common. For, I wish with all my heart that I had been either a Piegan Indian or a typical mountainman 100 years or more ago.
*** Into the Rockies’ Fastnesses
Whenever it is my good fortune to penetrate the massive openings of the great Rocky Mountains, whose towering pines stand like sentinels, and I become completely lost to the outside world, I cannot but envy the Piegan war or hunting party as they broke first trails through these majestic forests eons ago, or the mountainman as he topped the rise, there to survey these primitive defiles. What a glorious privilege was the free trapper’s-, in the days when each trail brought something new; when every trek along the game runs, when one’s eyes and senses were preternaturally active, was a new revelation. The children of the wild could then be seen in all their moods and they revealed themselves as they really were.
*** The Mountainman
In my mind, I love to picture the mountain canyon unmarred by civilization’s hand, where nature is most beautiful and wonderful and prodigal; where all is covered by a foliage so dense that the sun’s rays fail to penetrate the darkened recesses of shaded nooks; where the limbs of age-old trees are robed with moss of a greenish-gray hue.
*** Children of the Wild
This grizzled mountainman, attired in tattered buckskins and home-made moccasins enters cautiously along the bank of his newly discovered beaver stream, and. though separated far from human companionship, he is not alone. Here and there about him, the soft love-notes of the birds .wooing their mates, and the chitter-chatter of the “camp-robber” commingle with the “hoo-hoo” of the cat owl. Then, the shrill cry of the eagle, the “caws” of the crows, and the whirr of the ruffed grouse, add to the echoes which multiply, sink away, rise again, and finally fade into utter and awesome silence.
Yonder, in a small park, silent as the shadows, he sees a family of deer, grazing along over the carpet of green. Suddenly, as though rising from some subterranean depths or as a death knell sounded from a not-far-distant ravine, the baneful sound of the female cougar calling her mate to the “kill”, chills the blood of the traveler and strikes terror to the heart of the doe as she hurries her fawns to cover of a bordering thicket. But the mountainman noiselessly, cautiously wends his way slowly up stream, mindful only of the possibility of a grizzly’s presence, sets his traps at beaver ponds, and then retraces his steps back to camp.
Yes. I wish I had been a mountainman one hundred years or more ago.
*** The Great Trapper Band
Had it been your favored lot to have passed by the site of the present city of Great Falls one day late in April about eighty-seven years ago, there would have met your eyes a sight that would have thrilled them. Around a number of fires, a band of white trappers, numbering about eighty, having just “struck camp”, were whiling away the time, cooking, smoking, cleaning their guns or mending their buckskin garments. Grizzled men these, in tattered buckskins, with long hair and unkempt beards and bronzed skin. Their travels in quest of adventure (and furs) had carried them far from the haunts of civilization, and their varied experiences on plains and in mountains had hardened them to any emergency.
*** The Leader of Mountainmen
And, had you stopped to drink in this curious panorama, you would presently have seen riding into the midst of this primitive group, the leader of the band of free trappers. Mounted on a white Nez Perce pony, tall, erect, with brown hair flowing beneath a black felt hat, and with keen, straight-forward countenance, Jim Bridger was all of a leader among mountainmen.
In passing, you could have heard in clear tones, the hurried and stern warning:
“Do ’ee hyar now, boys, thar’s sign about? Do ‘ee hyar now? This nigger sees sign ahead—he does. An’ we’ll be afoot afore long of we don’t keep our eye skinned —we will. Injuns is all about, they are— an’ Blackfoot at that. Come on. boyp. They can’t catch us nappin’. Wagh!”
Then, If you could have peered, as did these men, out over a little rise and up the valley of Sun river, you would have seen a great string of lodges scattered along the fringe of cottonwood trees as far as eye could reach.
*** A Skirmish With the Piegans
As you watched this trapper camp, you would have observed quiet preparation. The hardy mountainmen stealthily bring in all their horses, and hobble and stake them close to the river’s bank. Then, each trapper, returning to his post, unrolls his blankets in such a manner that all form a circle around the animals, each man piling his furs, his saddle and packs as a sort of breastwork. Night falls, and double guards are put on while the remainder “turn in”. And, at midnight, the sentries change, with Bridger, himself, taking a turn.
You, too, rest beneath your blankets, with the sky’s canopy of starry blue for a a roof. Just at daybreak you are startled. The air is filled with the yells and high-pitched war songs of 400 hideously painted Piegans, as they spread out after crossing the Missouri’s ford, and come at the white intruders from all sides.
Above the din, in stentorian tones,, Bridger’s warning rings forth:
“Don’t get excited, boys. Hold your fire, an’ be sure you get ’em when you fire.
The battle rages. At first you feel grave concern about your own safety, for the Piegans are trained in their primitive warfare, and they fight well. But, finally, with but two trappers killed, the Indians are repulsed with heavy loss.
*** Lifts Another Scalp
As the redmen hasten their flight towards the river, there silhouetted against a sky reddened by the morning’s sun, sits the typical mountainman. Bridger has turned to take a last shot a a fleeing warrior. At this moment, if you had listened closely you could have heard the phrases of remonstrance the hardy leader directed to his gun-shy Nez Perce pony:
“Do ’ee hyar now, you darned critter/ Can’t you keep quiet your old fleece, now? Isn’t this old coon putting about to save ’ee from the darned Injuns now, do ee hyar?”
His never-failing aim takes its usual toll despite the wary mount; and, jumping down from his saddle, Jim Bridger saunters over and lifts-another scalp—one more trophy of remembrance of another victory over the one tribe of redmen in whom he could place no trust and by whom he was not trusted.
Jim Bridger was the typical mountainman.
* * *
*** St. Louis In 1822
It has often been spoken of by historians as the greatest primary fur market the world has ever known. Located on the western bank of the Mississippi, at a point not far south of where the waters of that great river are swelled by the now of the Missouri, and founded long before Louisiana was ceded to the United States by the Spaniards it became the nucleus of one of America’s foremost cities. St. Louis in 1822 was a bustling late metropolis of approximately 7,000 souls. At that time, the town was in the hey-day of its existence as the center of America’s mammoth fur industry. It was also civilization’s outpost, the point where West met East.
There was then, perhaps, no other part of the American continent where humanity could be seen In so varied, curious and-unusual phases—where the spirit of the untamed frontier was so typical. There were the merchants, the fur buyers, the outfitters, the French-Canadian voyageurs, the rough Indian traders, as well as the many different types of adventurers and hangers-on always to found where civilization met the primitive. Added to all these were the Indiana themselves, who. with squaws and papooses, arrayed in the full regalia of savage attire,-gave added color to an already romantic atmosphere. Down along the waterfront, daily there arrived and departed the rude keel boats hailing from and heading for the “Pays d on Haut where abounded the beaver, the buffalo, mink, otter, martin and other animals, so much sought after, because of the rich clothes they wore; and where the hordes of Indians’ were always ready to trade their valuable peltries for the worthless trinkets offered .them.
*** Young Jim Bridger
Mingling with this varied populace, a brown-haired youth, with .keen, gray eyes, tall, erect, square-shouldered, the picture of energy made his way from place to place, tensely interested in the scenes that were being enacted before him.
Until but a few weeks previous to this time, this lad had been a blacksmith s apprentice: but the youthful lust of adventure had guided him to this great outpost.
It was the fur depots, the waterfront and the traders’ stores which most attracted this young man; for, it was lit these places that he saw the men who so much appealed to his adventurous mind. Young “Jim” Bridger, then 18 years of age, had hailed from his native city of Richmond, Va., lured west by the insistent call of the frontier. Here, in St. Louis, he had watched these frontiersmen—the free trappers and traders—clad in their greasy, worn garments of buckskin and buffalo hide. Their tales of thrilling adventure had stirred in bis heart an overwhelming desire to see the enchanted land which they described.
*** Leaves for the “Pays d’En Hoot
So, on this March morning in 1822, when there appeared in the local newspaper, an advertisement calling for 100 men to form an expedition to travel under Ashley and Henry to the “Up Country”, or “Pays d’en Haut” as the French called it, “Jim Bridger was ripe for the opportunity to go up the Missouri to the Rocky Mountains.
Thus it was, that this young man, who was destined to ultimately become the most picturesque character of the Rocky Mountain section’s free trapper and free trader era, made bis first eventful and hazardous trip up the Missouri river to the mouth of the Yellowstone, and on up other river valleys to the Rocky Mountain region. Before this expedition ended, young Bridger had displayed qualities which marked him as a natural leader in the wilderness. Cool-headed. daring and resourceful far beyond bis years, his ability and good Judgment won for him the respect of his employers and hie companions.
*** He Knew No Fear
In person, “Jim’ Bridger was tall. slender, erect and energetic. He had a quiet, agreeable manner, hut was somewhat reserved. and expressed himself only after he had weighed ills words well. He had keen, gray eyes and a level glance. His hair was brown and long, and he looked the typical western mountain man. His courage and poise were unfailing in the faro of the greatest hardships and dangers.
*** A Born Topographer
This youth took naturally his place among a group of men who had before them great possibilities as explorers and pathfinders. He became a wonderful guide and a horn topographer. The whole West, and all the passes and labyrinths of the Rocky Mountains were mapped out in his mind. He had such a sense of locality and direction that he used to say he “could smell bis way where he could not see it.”
“With a buffalo skin and a piece of charcoal.” says Captain Gunnison who once employed Bridger as a guide, “be will map out any part of this immense region and delineate streams and mountains and other circular valleys, called ‘boles’ with a wonderful accuracy.”
*** Was With Bonneville
Scores of prominent government and private expeditions employed him as a guide and chief scout, running through a period of fifty years. It was Bridger who piloted Captain Bonneville on the expedition which was immortalized by Washington Irving. As late as 1868, General Sheridan consulted Bridger about bis plan of making winter campaigns against hostile Indians. The old scout came out once more from Kansas, where be was living, to consult with the renowned general, and gave him the benefit of his advice, knowledge and experience.
*** Opened Up ••Bridger’s Trull”
It was Jim Bridger who, in the sixties, opened up a wagon road which became known as “Bridger’s Trail’, leading from a point on the Oregon Trail, near Independence Rock, Wyoming, through central and northern Wyoming and southern Montana, in the Gallatin valley, Mon tana Territory, thereby shortening the distance from Omaha to the Montana mining camps.
In the early fifties, while he and a companion were seeking to explore the river valleys of the western slope of the Rockies, Bridger set out alone, and. in an effort to locate the western seas, because the first white man to set foot upon the shores of the Great Salt Lake. Utah.
Setting out from one of his established camps in what is now southern Montana, this same mountain man, while exploring new beaver streams, was the first white man to explore the wonders of the now famous Yellowstone National park. So marvelous were the tales he told of the awe-Inspiring things he viewed on this trip, that the people at first refused to believe bis stories.
*** His Shoshone Wife
Bridger’s habitual expression was mild and bls manner was mild and kind. He was respected and trusted by both white men and red. He held the confidence of the Indians because be always treated them with Justice. His wife, (the only one of which there Is any definite knowledeg), was an Indian of the Shoshone tribe.
This wife of Bridger is worth telling about. Bridger had been captured by some Indians, for a fist fight with one of the band after a truce. Being then a young man, be was a good looking chap. Au Indian maiden liked him. She slipped into his tent the night of the capture, and cut his thongs, thus freeing him. Jim made his escape under cover of night, and that summer, he found this Indian girl and married her. He never had any other wife. At least there is no absolute proof that be ever had any other.
In General Dodge’s “Biographic Sketch of James Bridger, in which he deplores the fact that no writer has coni pH cd. a complete history of Bridger, and bis mountain companions and the remarkable and stirring events of their time, be tells of Bridger’s matrimonial affairs. General Dodge claims that Bridger was married three times: that his first wife was the daughter of a Flatbead chief. This wife died in ISM. According to the biographer, the second wife was a Ute who died in 1849; and the third wife a Snake (Shoshone) woman.
Owing to the fact that very little of definite facts are known of the man’s early life on the plains, except as banded down by the Journals of explorers and traders, there is no absolute proof that Bridger ever had more than one wife.
*** Character of the Mun
Historians and others have wade much ado about the character of the man, as to whether or not he was a drunkard. Some writers have pictured him as the embodiment of license. Il matters not If be did or did not drink. Regardless of these things. It remains that be was one of the nation’s greatest explorers and he performed Invaluable service on the old frontier. One of his neighbors who lived but a short distance from Bridger during the last 18 years of his life, says:
”We never knew him to drink. We had three saloons here, and all the drink a train could carry. The Indians were paid off here and that brought in liquor by the cistern full. Jim would hang round, and once in a while he would take a nip. But that was all. He played poker mostly—and I know, myself, be played a good game.”
*** Built Fort Bridger
From 1833 to 1840, Bridger conducted trapping parties In the Interest of the American Fur company through the country west of the Big Horn river, reaching to the Snake, and had many fights with and hairbreadth escapes from the hostile Blackfeet.
in IMO, he was associated with Benito Vasquez in charge of an extensive outfit which they conducted in person until IMO, when Bridger and Vasquenz built Fort Bridger.
Fort Bridger was located 1,070 miles west of the Missouri river by wagon road and 886 miles by railroad. Bridger selected this site on account of it being on the overland emigrant route and the Mormon rtall whether by the North or South Platte routes, as both came together near or at Fort Bridger.
*** Buys Farm at Little Santa Fe
About 1850 Bridger took his Shoshone wife and together they went to Little Santa Fe, Mo, where be bought a little farm where he maintained hins residence until the time of his death. His, however, [TEXT OBSCURED] he would leave the farm and travel west to pilot expeditions during the summer months or to follow the trade of trapper and hunter.
It was in the spring of 1802 that the government called him from his little home back to the plains to guide the military in the Indian campaigns. He worked with the troops from Fort Laramie and took part In many encounters He remained on the plans until late in 1870 when be moved back to the Little Santa Fe farm.
In the closing paragraphs of bis biography of Bridger, General Dodge describes the characteristics of the man as follows:
“I found Bridger a very companionable man. In person he was over six feet talk spare, straight as an arrow, agile, raw-boned and of powerful frame, eyes gray, hair brown and abundant In old age expression mild, and manners agreeable. He was hospitable and generous, and was always trusted and respected. He possessed in a high degree of confidence of the Indians.
“He was one of the most noted hunters and trappers on the plains. Naturally shrewd, and possessing keen faculties of observation, he carefully studied the habits of all animals, especially the beaver, and profiting from the knowledge obtained from the Indians, with whom he chiefly associated, and with whom he became a great favorite, he soon became one of the most export hunters and trappers In the mountains.
“... Eager to gratify his curiosity, and with a natural fondness for mountain scenery, he traversed the country in every direction, sometimes accompanied by aa Indian but oftener alone. He familiarized himself with every mountain peak, every dee pgorgp, every hill and every landmark In the country. Having arrived on the banks of some before undiscovered stream, and finding signs of his favorite game, he would Immediately proceed to his trapse and then take bis gun and wander over the hills and up the canyon In quest of meat
“While engaged In this thorough system of trapping, no object of Interest escaped bls scrutiny, and when once known it wan ever after remembered. He could describe with minutest accuracy places that perhaps he had visited but once, and that many years before, and he could travel in almost a direct line from one point to another In the greatest distances, with certainty of always making his goal.
“He adopted the habits of the Indiana conformed to their customs, became Imbued with their superstitions, and at length excelled them In strategy.”
*** A Great Story Teller
Bridger was by nature a great story teller, but when be described the wonders of Yellowstone park which he visited in 1M4. none believed him. Today this tale has been proved a real one. Bridger bore the record of being the champion Bar of the old frontier. Nevertheless ne was reported and trusted .Bridger felt keenly the suspicions cast upon his truth and honesty, and was often disgusted and angered at the talk about “old Jim Bridger and his Iles.” In retaliation, be followed the custom of mountain men by stuffing his listeners with the most preposterous stories he could imagine.
Once at Virginia City. Montana Territory, accosted by a group of “pilgrims” who heard of his fame, proceeded to question the old man. whereupon he told the following harrowing tale:
*** The Petrified Forest
“Once years ago, I and my partner were trapping near the bad lands of the Missouri, a few miles below Benton, when we found we bad no meat. Shouldering our rifles, we started out after deer, and soon were on the edge of the bad lands. A fine buck started out of the brush and ran toward a petrified forest of the kind that is often found in the queer bad lands formations. My partner and I both shot, and the deer bounded forward. As the animal leaped over a fallen tree, he suddenly stopped, suspended six feet in the air with nothing to support him. We advanced to Inspect our meat, and were surprised to find that the buck had been turned from flesh to stone in a twinkling and was hanging In mid air in a mysterious fashion.”
One of the party thereupon asked Bridger If the law of gravitation would not have prevented the deer from hanging In the air that wav. “Gravitation be damned,’ replied Bridger, with evident disgust, “that was petrified, too.”
Bridger was then asked If he had seen any other animals petrified. He replied that he had seen a great many deer, antelope and bear petrified in the badlands zone. In fact, he said that he and his partner, while sleeping in the petrified zone, felt themselves turning to stone and got out Just In time to survive.
So, as a matter of fact, Bridger did ten some fantastic yarns. But. when he did so. there was a good deal of basis for It. if bis listeners had sufficient wit and sense to look for the meat.
*** Was a Trusted Scout
The testimony of scores of prominent military commanders and civilians can be produced to show that James Bridger was always to be trusted and believed as a guide, scout, trader and all-round pioneer. His idle tales were only told to idle people in idle hours. At heart he was as truthful as. he was skilful and brave. He never betrayed any man and was never untrue to any trust, public or private.
Those who knew the man and who saw him in the early sixties, as he neared the end of his frontier career, say that as -a rule, he was a silent, close-mouthed fellow. When closely questioned, he would tell some outrageously Improbable story, that would he greeted with hilarious laughter by the men around the campfire, and make the person asking the question the butt of the occasion. Unfortunately, he was little given to the relation of his adventures and exploits, and he seldom mentioned such important events as the Benneville expedition, in which he played so important part. , Bridger was born at Richmond, Va., in 1884 and he died in Washington county, Missouri in 1881. His death was a sad one. In bis old age, he lost his eyesight, and thereafter ,he sat day by day dreaming his frontier life over and over again as the sands of life ran low. Finally ,at the age of 77. he passed away, and few today know that his grave Is located in one of Kansas City’s most fashionable cemeteries. His remains were at first entered in an unmarked plot near Martin City, Kans., but the removal was made at the request and expense of General Dodge many years later.
And, the monument that General Dodge erected in Washington Cemetery at Kansas City, and the official records state that ‘Pike and Fremont and Livingston and Stanley and even Cecil Rhodes did not accomplish such wonderful discovery work as dial this man “Jim” Bridger.
What matters it then if Bridger had one or six wives, or if he drank or was sober?
Yes. I wish I had been a mountainman, one hundred years or more ago.
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[[d-r-dan-r-conway-mountainman-3.jpg][Dan R. Conway]]
[[d-r-dan-r-conway-mountainman-1.jpg][THE MOUNTAIN MAN— This is Artist Paxton’s conception of the French-Canadian Free Trapper of the type who blazed first trails in and through the fastnesses of the Hooky Mountain Region. Thin is typical of the free trapper attire—the fringed buckskin garments; the homemade moccasins, and the wolfskin cap.]]
[[d-r-dan-r-conway-mountainman-2.jpg][What a glorious privilege was the free trapper’s, to enter and view the mountain canyon unmarred by civilization’s hand, where nature wag most beautiful and wonderful and prodigal, where the children of the wild lived out all their moods.]]