 Frontier Fighters! Epic narratives of those fearless wanderers and adventurers who first broke the trails of the Old West. Among these heroic explorers and pathfinders, the great figure of Jedediah Strong Smith is one of the most prominent of the frontier giants in their conquest of the western America wilderness. With his rifle in one hand and his precious Bible in the other, Jedediah Smith brought youth, courage and faith into the mighty struggle for an empire. May 20th, 1823, St. Louis, Missouri. Listen to this advertisement in the Missouri Republican Fitzpatrick. You too, sublet. I'm all ears, man. Where did I take this cotton out of my ears? I've got the misery in my head. Go ahead. The subscriber wishes to engage 50 young men of intelligence and courage to follow the Missouri River to its source. There to be employed for one, two or three years. Signed, William Henry Ashley. I saw the same writing last year. Yeah, wonder what this Ashley once done on the Upper Missouri. Fur-trapping, I reckon beaver for dude's hat. I have old boys we call on, Mr. Ashley, in a body. Anyone know where he lives? I do, Smith, in a big mansion. I answered his last year's writing, but I got there too late. I have an idea. You'll have better luck this time. You lead Fitzpatrick to the Ashley mansion and then the Upper Missouri. Thomas Fitzpatrick, William L. Sublet, James Climon and Jedediah Strong Smith joined Ashley's fur-traders. On June 2nd, 1823, near the present boundary between North and South Dakota. What tribe are we fighting, Fitzpatrick? A rickery, Captain Anthony. Smith! Oh, Smith! Yes, here I am, sir. I was tending the wounded. Are there many wounded? Killed? Our losses are very heavy. We treat men in good order. Toes that embankment. You're safe here in this depression. Sublet, how are we fixed for Grubb? Not for 60 days on half-rational. If the Indians don't attack again... I don't think they'll attack. Not right now, anyway. Meantime, I want to volunteer. Volunteer! Andrew Henry, one of my last year's expeditionaries up on the Yellowstone. I want to volunteer to bring him and his mountain men here to help pull us out of this pick. Let me go, sir. But, Smith, you're one of my youngest men. You lack experience. You lack seasoning. Well, I may lack experience and seasoning, but I never saw the engineer. I couldn't outwit, outfight, and outrun, too. You'll go to Fort Atkinson, too, for troops. Double mission, double hazards. And I'll go alone, with my rifle and my Bible. I could even go without my rifle, but my Bible, it goes where I go. Suffering from hardships and privations, Smith got through to Fort Atkinson, thence to Andrew Henry's log fort on the Yellowstone, and became famous among frontiersmen as the man who carried the word to Henry. In 1826, Smith, with 15 men, plunged into the then unknown wilderness and south of Great Salt Lake. Eventually, the party reached the Colorado River, which Smith attempted to cross on a raft. Look, Captain Smith, along the shore, engines! Yes, I see them. Must be a couple of hundred. They look peaceful enough. No weepers, no bows and errors. Don't let that fool you. When the engines look peaceful, be on your guard. Every man quiet and load his rifle. Now men, at the first sign of danger, fire! They've hit Thomas Bergen, Captain. There's an arrow between his shoulders. Now give him all you got, boys! All you've got! When the Smith's band of 15 were killed, and all of the party's horses stolen, Smith walked the long road to Monterey to beg assistance for his wounded men. At the San Jose, California mission, Smith was seized by the military and thrown into a guardhouse cell. He was without food for three days. Then... Honorable High Military Court of His Excellency, the Governor of California, Jose Maria de Chandia, is open. To the dire, strong Smith, Americano, to the bar of Mexico's sublime justice. Prisoners, you are charged with invading the California province with an armed party contrary to Mexican laws. How do you please? I refuse to plead. I deny the jurisdiction of this court. I want to see the governor himself. In pretty circumstance, an Americano violates Mexican laws and please lack of jurisdiction. I am far from home, senor. But let me warn you. If any harm befalls me or any of my men, you personally will answer not only to the American government, but to God, our guide and protector. Smith was not convicted, but still clutching his Bible, he was marched to Monterey and again thrust into prison. Exhausted from lack of food, Smith was taken before the governor. In your case, Americano Smith, I have only two alternatives. Only two? I'd say only one. Set me free. I said two. I can send you to Mexico City on horseback for trial or put you aboard the next ship to leave Monterey. I think I will... And just a minute, Your Excellency. Oh, Capitan Cooper. I was just about to order the prisoner, Smith, aboard your vessel for transport to Mexico. Now, look here, Your Excellency. Will you take my bond for Smith's banishment from Mexico and set him free? My might for, let her say, $30,000 in gold. And here's two gold pieces, Smith for a belt, a new outfit and the best meal in all Monterey. Tragedy after tragedy struck Smith's party as a journey toward the distant north. In the Oregon country where the Hudson Bay Company was supreme, the Indians became more and more hostile. July 14th, 1828. Ten days from the nearest white settlement on the Willamette, Smith's group was attacked by a large band of fighting Indians. Only three men, one of them Smith, survived the battle. A week later, at Fort Vancouver, headquarters of Dr. John McLaughlin, chief factor of the Hudson Bay Company. Here today is strong, Smith. Here, I've been expecting you. Sit here, don't run. You look like a ghost. Dr. McLaughlin, I'm sure you're a kindly God-fearing man. Well, thank you, Smith, but come what's on your mind. These Indians have murdered all but two of my brave Americans. I believe, well, shall I say, inspired by your employers? Lush, manual dust! Then why the minute we set foot in the Oregon country must we fight, fight, fight day after day for our lives? In your last skirmish, what beside your men did you lose? Horses, mules and furs, valued at $3,200. Here's the inventory. Well, and here's gold to that amount as a token of Hudson Bay's integrity. Now, will you come to Kirk with me? Today is the Sabbath, and I never miss Kirk on the Sabbath. Neither do I, except when I'm in the wilderness, hiding your Indians. Well, you can believe it or not, Smith. So long as my name's John McLaughlin, and so long as I'm stationed here as Chief Packard at the Hudson Bay Company, you know your men will air be molested again. Because of Dr. McLaughlin's kindness, Smith resolved never again to trap in territory claimed by the Hudson Bay Company. Leaving the upper Missouri, Smith, the company by Thomas Fitzpatrick, attempted the journey to Santa Fe. Then, on a branch of the Cimarron... Captain Smith, I can fly a mountain, fat beaver, flight Indians, but I'll be danged if I can go along without water. I never knew this country to be so dry. Look, even the sand lizards got their mouths open, and when a lizard tans like a dog, it's dry. Make camp here, Fitzpatrick, and rest. What are you going to do? I'll ride up this dry river better ways. Here's water further on, I'm sure. Well, best look out for the Indians. They say the Arapahoos are out for some new scalps to decorate their lodge poles. There ain't an engine worth the name in 50 miles. But if I meet any, I'll bring back their scalps to make you a win for your old age. Ha ha ha ha! Pale faces have driven off our meat. Yes, Red Fox, the Arapahoos starve, while the pale faces slaughter our buffalo and grow fat on the land they have stolen from us. One path we must follow, though our race becomes extinct. There are many paths, O Red Fox, but which? The war path, until the land runs red with the blood of the pale faces. Look, below, a pale face, alone, is pony drinks of our water defiling it. Assemble your warriors. No need. They too have seen the pale face and are ready. Attack them and scatter the pale face to the four sacred winds of the Arapahoos. Go. Slain by the Arapahoos, Jedediah's strong smith's body was never found, nor a single page of his tattered Bible. Thus one of the West's greatest heroes perished, without even a small stone to mark his last resting place. Another glorious chapter in the splendid journeys of the frontier fighters, who outwitted, outfought, and had sometimes outran the many enemies who tried to block their paths to that beckoning goal of burnished splendor, the Western Sun.