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Las diagram mas suivants illuatrant la mAthoda. 1 2 3 »x 12 3 4 5,6 ZTbe a^t>enture0 of Captain Sonneville r f>an^c Volume SDftfon Captain Bonneville • By IVashington Irving \ G. P. Putnam's Sons New York and London Zbe f(nicftecbocfier pre00 of N( tic Ai Ti to tui in* Rc lui liai of kit tra ex] f ntro&ucton? floticc^ WHILE engaged in writing an account of the grand enterprise of Astoria, it was my practice to seek all kinds of oral information connected with the supject. Nowhere did I pick up more interesting par- ticulars than at the table of Mr. John Jacob Astor ; who, being the patriarch of the Fur Trade in the United States, was accustomed to have at his board various persons of adven- turous turn, some of whom had been engaged in his own great undertaking ; others, on their own account, had made expeditions to the Rocky Mountains and the waters of the Co- lumbia. Among these personages, one who pecu- liarly took my fancy, was Captain Bonneville, of the United States army ; who, in a rambling kind of enterprise, had strangely ingrafted the trapper and hunter upon the soldier. As his expeditions and adventures will form the lead- UNIVERSITY OF MANITOBA JUNIOR LIBIIARY v! f ntroDucton? I^otice ing theme of the following pages, a few bio- graphical particulars concerning him may not be unacceptable. Captain Bonneville is of French parentage. His father was a worthy old emigrant, who came to this country many years since, and took up his abode in New York. He is repre- sented as a man not much calculated for the sordid struggle of a money-making world, but possessed of a happy temperament, a festivity of imagination, and a simplicity of heart, that made him proof against its rubs and trials. He was an excellent scholar ; well acquainted with lyatin and Greek, and fond of the moaeni classics. His book was his elysium ; once im- mersed in the pages of Voltaire, Corneille, or Racine, or of his favorite English author, Shakespeare, he forgot the world and all its concerns. Often would he be seen in summer weather, seated under one of the trees on the Battery, or the portico of St. Paul's Church in Broadway, his bdld head uncovered, his hat lying by his side, his eyes riveted to the page of his book, and his whole soul so engaged, as to lose all consciousness of the passing/ throng or the passing hour. Captain Bonneville, it will be found, inherited some of his father's bonhomie, and his excitable imagination ; though the latter was some- 1ntro^uctore Notice ▼h what disciplined in early years, by mathemati- cal studies. He was educated at our national Military Academy at West Point, where he acquitted himself very creditably ; thence, he entered the army, in which he has ever since continued. The nature of our military service took him to the frontier, where, for a number of years, he was stationed at various posts in the Far West. Here he was brought into frequent intercourse with Indian traders, mountain trappers, and other pioneers of the wilderness ; and became so excited by their tales of wild scenes and wild adventures, and their accounts of vast and magnificent regions as yet unex- plored, that an expedition to the Rocky Moun- tains became the ardent desire of his heart, and an enterprise to explore untrodden tracts, the leading object of his ambition. By degrees he shaped this vague day-dream into a practical reality. Having made himself acquainted with all the requisites for a trading enterprise beyond the mountaiiis, he determined to undertake it. A leave of absence, and a sanction of his expedition, was obtained from the major-general in chief, on his offering to combine public utility with his private projects, and to collect statistical information for the War Department, concerning the wild countries tlii f ntro^uctors notice and wild tribes he might visit in the course of his journeyings. Nothing now was wanting to the darling project of the captain, but the waj's and means. The expedition would require an outfit of many thousand dollars ; a staggering obstacle to a soldier, whose capital is seldom anything more than his sword. Full of that buoyant hope, however, which belongs to the sanguine temperament, he repaired to New York, the great focus of American enterprise, where there are always funds ready for any scheme, however chimerical or romantic. Here he had the good fortune to meet with a gentleman of high respectability and influence, who had been his associate in boyhood, and who cherished a school-fellow friendship for him. He took a general interest in the scheme of the captain ; introduced him to commercial men of his ac- quaintance, and in a little while an association was formed, and the necessary funds were raised to carry the proposed measure into effect. One of the most eflScient persons in this associ- ation was Mr. Alfred Seton, who, when quite a youth, had accompanied one of the expedi- tions sent out by Mr. Astor to his commercial establishments on the Columbia, and had dis- tinguished himself by his activity and courage at one of the interior posts. Mr. Seton was Introductors notice Ix one of the American youths who were at Astoria at the time of its surrender to the British, and who manifested such grief and indignation ac seeing the flag of their country hauled down. The hope of seeing that flag once more planted on the shores of the Columbia, may have entered into his motives for engaging in the present enterprise. Thus backed and provided, Captain Bonne- ville undertook his expedition into the Far West, and was soon beyond the Rocky Moun- tains. Year after year elapsed without his return. The term of his leave of absence expired, yet no report was made of him at headquarters at Washington. He was con- sidered virtually dead or lost, and his name was stricken from the army list. It was in the autumn of 1835, at the country seat of Mr. John Jacob Astor, at Hellgate, that I first met with Captain Bonneville. He was then just returned from a residence of upwards of three years among the mountains, and was on his way to report himself at headquarters, in the hopes of being reinstated in the service. From all that I could learn, his wanderings in the wilderness, though they had gratified his curiosity and his love of adventure, had not much benefited his fortunes. I,ike Corporal Trim in his campaigns, he had " satisfied the 11 X introductcris Hotfce sentiment," and that was all. In fact, he was too much of the frank, free-hearted soldier, and had inherited too much of his father's tern- perament, to make a scheming trapper, or a thrifty bargainer. There was something in the whole appearance of the captain that pre- possessed me in his favor. He was of the middle size, well made and well set ; and a military frock of foreign cut, that had seen service, gave him a look of compactness. His countenance was frank, open, and engaging; well browned by the sun, and had something of a French expression. He had a pleasant black eye, a high forehead, and while he kept his hat on, the look of a man in the jocund prime of his days ; but the moment his head was uncovered, a bald crown gained him credit for a few more years than he was really enti- tled to. Being extremely curious, at the time, about everything connected with the Far West, I addressed numerous questions to him. They drew from him a number of extremely strik- ing details, which were given with mingled modesty and frankness ; and in a gentleness of manner, and a soft tone of voice, contrast- ing singularly with the wild and often start- ling nature of his themes. It was difficult to conceive the mild, quiet-looking personage f ntro^uctori2 Vloticc xt before you, the actual hero of the stirring scenes related. In the course of three or four months, hap- pening to be at the city of Washington, I again came upon the captain, who was at- tending the slow adj ustment of his affairs with the War Department. I found him quartered with a worthy brother in arms, a major in the army. Here he was writing at a table, covered with maps and papers, in the centre of a large barrack room, fancifully decorated with Indian arms, and trophies, and war dresses, and the skins of various wild animals, and hung round with pictures of Indian games and ceremonies, and scenes of war and hunt- ing. In a word, the captain was beguiling the tediousness of attendance at court, by an at- tempt at authorship ; and was rewriting and extending his travelling notes, and making maps of the regions he had explored. As he sat at the table, in this curious apartment, with his high bald head of somewhat foreign cast, he reminded me of some of those antique pic- tures of authors that I have seen in old Spanish volumes. The result of his labors was a mass of manu- script, which he subsequently put at my dis- posal, to fit it for publication and bring it be- fore the world. I found it full of interesting x:i f ntroDuctor^ l^otice 'li details of life among the mountains, and of the singular castes and races, both white men and red men, among whom he had sojourned. It bore, too, throughout, the impress of his character, his bonhomie^ his kindliness of spirit, and his susceptibility to the grand and beautiful. That manuscript has formed the staple of the following work. I have occasionally in- terwoven facts and details, gathered from various sources, especially from the conversa- tions and journals of some of the captain's contemporaries, who were actors in the scenes he describes. I have also given it a tone and coloring drawn from my own observation, dur- ing an excursion into the Indian country be- yond the bounds of civilization ; as I before observed, however, the work is substantially the narrative of the worthy captain, and many of its most graphic passages are but little varied from his own language. I shall conclude this notice by a dedication which he had made of his manuscript to his hospitable brother in arms, in whose quarters I found him occupied in his literary labors ; it is a dedication which, I believe, possesses the qualities, not always found in complimentary documents of the kind, of being sincere, and being merited. V IntroDuctorc notice XlU JAMES HARVEY HOOK, MAJOR U. 8. A. WHOSE JEAI.OUSY OF ITS HONOR, WHOSE ANXIETY FOR ITS INTERESTS, AND WHOSE SENSIBII.ITY FOR ITS WANTS, HAVE ENDEARED HIM TO THE SERVICE AS ^be SolOiec'0 #deno ; AND WHOSE GENERAI, AMENITY, CONSTANT CHEERFULNESS, DISINTERESTED HOSPI- TAUTY, AND UNWEARIED BENEVO- I,ENCE, ENTITI.E HIM TO THE STII.I. I.OFTIER TITLE OF THE FRIEND OF MAN, THIS WORK IS INSCRIBED, ETC. New Ybrkf 1843. I* ' 'III "Si I. « In- ch > i Ca \ Contents^—part f ♦ Introductory Notice Chap. I.— State of the Fur Trade of the Rocky Mountains — American Enterprises — General Ashley and his Associates — Sublette, a Fam- ous Leader — Yearly Rendezvous among the Mountains — Stratagems and Dangers of the Trade — Bands of Trappers— Indian Banditti — Crows and Blackfeet— Mountaineers — Trad- ers of the Far West — Character and Habits of the Trapper i Chap. II. — Departure from Fort Osage— Modes of Transportation — Pack Horses — Wagons — Walker and Cerr^ ; their Characters — Buoyant Feelings on Launching upon the Prairies — Wild Equipments of the Trappers — Their Gambols and Antics — Difference of Character between the American and French Trappers — Agency of the Kansas — General Clarke — White Plume, the Kansas Chief— Night Scene in a Trader's Camp — Colloquy between White Plume and the Captain — Bee-hunters — Their Expeditions — Their Feuds with the Indians — Bargaining Talent of White Plume . . 15 VOL, 1. XV xv! Content0 I PAOB Chap. III. —Wide Prairies— Vegetable Productions — Tabular Hills — Slabs of Sandstone — Ne- braska or Platte River — Scanty Fare — Buffalo Skulls — Wagons Turned into Boats — Herds of Buffalo — Cliffs Resembling Castles — The Chimney — Scott's Bluffs — Story Connected with Them — The Bighorn or Ahsahta, — Its Nature and Habits — Difference between that and the " Woolly Sheep," or Goat of the Mountains 38 Chap. IV. — An Alarm— Crow Indians — Their Ap- pearance — Mode ot Approach — Their Venge- ful Errand — Their Curiosity — Hostility be- tween the Crows and Black feet — Loving Conduct of the Crows — Laramie's Fork — First Navigation of the Nebraska — Great Elevation of the Country — Rarity of the Atmosphere — Its Effect on the Wood-work of Wagons — Black Hills— Their Wild and Broken Scenery — Indian Dogs — Crow Trophies — Sterile and Dreary Country — Banks of the Sv/eet Water — Buffalo Hunting — Adventure of Tom Cain, the Irish Cook 39 Chap. V. — Magnificent Scenery — Wind River Mountains — Treasury of Waters — A Stray Horse— An Indian Trail — Trout Streams — The Great Green River Valley— An Alarm — A Band of Trappers — Fontenelle, his Infor- < mation — Sufferings of Thirst— Encampment on the Seeds-ke-dee — Strategy of Rival Trad- ers — Forti fication of the Camp — ^The Blackfeet — Banditti of the Mountains — Their Character and Habits . . . . . . • \ 54 Cotitent0 ZVU PAOB Chap. VI. — Sublette and his Band — Robert Campbell — Mr. Wyeth and a Band of" Down- easters " — Yankee Enterprise— Fitzpatrick — His Adventure with the Black feet — A Rendez- vous of Mountaineers — The Battle of Pierre's Hole — An Indian Ambuscade — Sublette's Return 68 Chap. VII.— Retreat of the Black feet— Fonte- nelle's Camp in Danger — Captain Bonneville and the Blackfeet — Free Trappers — Their Character, Habits, Dress, Equipments, Horses — Game Fellows of the Mountains — Their Visit to the Camp — Good Fellowship and Good Cheer — A Carouse — A Swagger, a Brawl, and a Reconciliation . . . . . 89 Chap. VIH.— Plans for the Winter— Salmon River — Abundance of Salmon West of the Moun- tains — New Arrangements— Caches — Cerr^'s Detachment — Movements in Fontenelle's Camp — Departure of the Blackfeet — Their Fortunes — Wind Mountain Streams — Buck- eye, the Delaware Hunter, and the Grizzly Bear — Bones of Murdered Travellers — Visit to Pierre's Hole — ^Traces of the Battle — Nez Perc4 Indians— Arrival at Salmon River • , 98 Chap. IX. — Horses Turned Loose — Preparations for Winter Quarters — Hungry Times — Nez Percys, their Honesty, Piety, Pacific Habits, Religious Ceremonies — Captain Botineville's Conversation with Them — Their Love of Gambling . . , ^. ., ... no xviu Content0 Chap. X.— Blackfeet in the Horse Prairie— Search after the Hunters— Difficulties and Dangers —A Card Party in the Wilderness— The Card Party Interrupted — ** Old Sledge," a Losing Game — Visitors to the Camp— Iroquois Hunt- ers — Hanging-Eared Indians .... PAOB ii8 ill '! Chap. XI. — Rival Trapping Parties — Manceuvriug — A Desperate Game — Vanderburgh and the Blackfeet — Deserted Camp Fires — A Dark Defile — An Indian Ambush — A Fierce Mel^e — Fatal Consequences — Fitzpatrick and Bridger — Trappers' Precautions — Meeting with the Blackfeet — More Fighting — Anecdote of a Young Mexican and an Indian Girl 125 Chap XII.— A Winter Camp in the Wilderness — Medley of Trappers, Hunters, and Indians — Scarcity of Game — New Arrangements in the Camp — Detachments Sent to a Distance — Carelessness of the Indians when Encamped . — Sickness among the Indians — Excellent Character of the Nez Percys — The Captain's Effort as a Pacificator — A Nez Percy's Argu- ment in Favor of War — Robberies by the Blackfeet — Long-Suffering of the Nez Percys — A Hunter's Elysium among the Mountains , — More Robberies — The Captain Preaches up a Crusade — The EflFect upon his Heaiers . 135 Chap. XIII.— Story of Kosato, the Renegade Blackfoot .... . . . .V 152 Content0 x!x Chap. XIV.— The Party Enters the Mountain Gorge — A Wild Fastness among the Hills — Mountain Mutton — Peace and Plenty — ^The Amorous Trapper — A Piebald Wedding — A Free Trapper's Wife— Her Gala Equipments — Christmas in the Wilderness . PAOB 158 Chap. XV. — A Hunt after Hunters — Hungry Times — A Voracious Repast — Wintry Weather— Godin's River — Splendid Winter Scene on the Great Lava Plain of Snake River — Severe Travelling and Tramping in the Snow — MancEuvres of a Solitary Indian Horse- man — Encampment on Snake River— Ban- neck Indians — The Horse Chief — His Charmed Life . . . . . , . 167 Chap. XVI. — Misadventures of Matthieu and His Patty — Return to the Caches at Salmon River — Battle between Nez Percys and Blackfeet — Heroism of a Nez Perc€ Woman— Enrolled among the Braves ...... 181 Chap. XVII. — Opening of the Caches— Detach- ment of Cerr^ and Hodgkiss— Salmon River Mountains — Superstition of an Indian Trap- per — Godin's River— Preparations for Trap- ping — An Alarm — An Interruption — A Rival Band — Phenomena of Snake River Plain — Vast Clefts and Chasms — Ingulfed Streams — Sublime Scenery — A Grand Buffalo Hunt . 191 Chap. XVIII. — Meeting with Hodgkiss— Misfor- tunes of the Nez Percys— Schemes of Kosato, the Renegado— His Foray into the Horse ■ I Content0 PAOB Prairie — Invasion of Blackfeet — Blue John, and his Forlorn Hope — Their Generous Enterprise — Their Fate — Consternation and Despair of the Village — Solemn Obsequies — Attempt at Indian Trade — Hudson's Bay Company's Monopoly — Arrangements for Autumn — Breaking up of an Encampment . 202 Chap. XIX. — Precautions in Dangerous Defiles — ^Trappers' Mode of Defense on a Prairie — A Mysterious Visitor — Arrival in Green River Valley — Adventures of the Detach- ments — The Forlorn Partisan — His Tale of Disasters 216 Chap. XX.— Gathering in Green River Valley— Visitings and Feastings of Leaders — Rough Wassailing among the Trappers — Wild Blades of the Mountains— Indian Belles — Potency of Bright Beads and Red Blankets — Arrival of Supplies — Revelry and Extravagance — Mad Wolves — The Lost Indian .... 226 Chap. XXI. — Schemes of Captain Bonneville— The Great Salt Lake —Expedition to Explore it — Preparations for a Journey to the Bighorn 232 Chap. XXII. — The Crow Country — A Crow Paradise — Habits of the Crows — Anecdotes of Rose, the Renegade White Man — His Fights with the Blackfeet — His Elevation — His Death — Arapooish, the Crow Chief— His Eagle— Adventure of Robert Campbell — Honor among Crows 239 [1 tiii Contente ui PAOS Chap. XXIII.— Departure from Green River Valley — Popo Agie — Its Course— The Rivers into which it Runs— Scenery of the Bluffs — The Great Tar Spring — Volcanic Tracts in the Crow Country —Burning Mountain of Powder River — Sulphur Springs — Hidden Fires— Colter's Hell— Wind River— Carajv bell's Party — Fitzpatrick and his Trappers- Captain Stewart, an Amateur Traveller — Nathaniel Wyeth — Anecdotes of his Expedi- tion to the Far West— Disaster of Campbell's Party— A Union of Bands — The Bad Pass — The Rapids — Departure of Fitzpatrick — Em- barkation of Peltries — Wyeth and his Bull Boat — Adventures of Captain Bonneville in the Bighorn Mountains — Adventures in the Plain— Traces of Indians — Travelling Precau- tions — Dangers of Making a Smoke — ^The Rendezvous 250 Chap. XXIV.— Adventures of the Party of Ten —The Balaamite Mule— A Dead Point— The Mysterious Elks — A Night Attack — A Retreat — Travelling Under an Alarm — A Joyful Meeting — Adventures of the Other Party — A Decoy Elk — Retreat to an Island — A. Savage Dance of Triumph — Arrival at Wind River . 264 Chap. XXV.— Captain Bonneville Sets Out for Green River Valley— Journey up the Popo Agie — Buffaloes — The Staring White Bears — The Smoke — The Warm Springs — Attempt to Traverse the Wind River Mountains — The Great Slope — Mountain Dells and Chasms — xxii Content0 VAQU Crystal Lakes — Ascent of a Snowy Peak — Sublime Prospect — A Panorama — *' Les Dignes de Pitie," or Wild Men of the Moun- tains 272 Chap. XXVI.— A Retrograde Move— Channel of a Mountain Torrent — Alpine Scenery — Cas- cades — Beaver Valleys — Beavers at Work — Their Architectiire — Their Modes of Felling Trees — Mode of Trapping Beaver — Contests of Skill— A Beaver "Up to Trap"— Arrival at the Green River Caches .... Chap. XXVII.— Route Towards Wind River— 284 Dangerous Neighborhood — Alarms and Pre- cautions — A Sham Encampment — Apparition of an Indian Spy — Midnight Move — A Moun- tain Defile— The Wind River Valley— Track- ing a Party — Deserted Camps — Symptoms of Crows — Meeting of Comrades — A Trapper Entrapped — Crow Pleasantry — Crow Spies — A Decampment — Return tc Green River Valley — Meeting with Fitzpatrick's Party — Their Adventures among the Crows — Ortho- dox Crows 294 Chap. XXVIii.— A Region of Natural Curiosities —The Plain of White Clay— Hot Springs— The Beer Spring — Departure to Seek the Free Trappers— Plain of Portneuf— I^ava — Chasms and Gullies — Banneck Indians— Their Hunt of the Buffalo — Hunters' Feast — Trencher Heroes — Bullyi?ig of an Absent Foe — The Damp Comrade - '^he Tudian Spy — Meeting with Hodgkiss— His /idventkres — Poordevil ill: ri; Content0 Indians— Triumph of the Banneck^ feet Policy in War .... xxiii PAOK -Black - 310 Chap. XXIX.— Winter Camp at the Portneuf— Fine Springs — The Banneck Indians — Their Honesty — Captain Bonneville Prepares for an Expedition—Christmas — The American Falls— VM(J Scenery— Fishing Falls— Snake Indi .is--3cci, iry on the Bruneau — View of Volcmi' Country from a Mountain — Powder R< rer — Sboshokoes, or Root Diggers — Their Character, Habits, Habitations, Dogs— Vanity at its Last Shift 324 Contents*— part If ♦ Chap. I. — ^Temperature of the Climate — Root Dig- gers on Horseback — An Indian Guide — Mountain Prospects — The Grand Rond — Diffi- culties on Snake River — A Scramble over the Blue Mountains — Sufferings from Hunger- Prospect of the Immahah Valley — The Ex- hausted Traveller Chap. II. — Progress in the Valley— An Indian Cavalier — The Captain Falls into a Lethargy — A Nez Perc^ Patriarch — Hospitable Treat- ment — The Bald Head — Bargaining — Value of an Old Plaid Cloak— The Family Horse— The Cost of an Indian Present .... PAGB 14 Chap. III.— Nez Perc€ Camp— A Chief with a Hard Name— The Big Hearts of the East— Hospitable Treatment — The Indian Guides — Mysterious Councils — The Loquacious Chief — Indian Tomb — Grand Indian Reception — An Indian Feast — Town Criers — Honesty of the Nez Perces — The Captain's Attempt at Healing 25 Chap. IV. — Scenery of the Way -lee-way — A Subs- titute for Tobacco — Sublime Scenery of Snake VOL. 11. I Contente PAOB River — The Garrulous old Chief and his Cousin — A Nez Perc6 Meeting— A Stolen Skin — The Scapegoat Dog — Mysterious Con- ferences — The Little Chief — His Hospitality — The Captain's Account of the United States — His Healing Skill 39 Chap. V.— Fort Wallah-Wallah— Its Commander — Indians in its Neighborhood — Exertions of Mr. Pambrune for their Improvement — Re- ligion — Code of Laws — Range of the Lower Nez Percds — Camash, and other Roots — Nez Percys Horses — Preparations for Departure — Refusal of Supplies — Departure — A Laggard and Glutton 54 Chap. VI.— The Uninvited Guest— Free and Easy Manners — Salutary Jokes — A Prodigal Son — Exit of the Glutton — A Sudden Change in Fortune — Danger of a Visit to Poor Relations — Plucking of a Prosperous Man — A Vagabond Toilet — A Substitute for the Very Fine Horse — Hard Travelling — The Uninvited Guest and the Patriarchal Colt — A Beggar on Horseback — A Catastrophe — Exit of the Merry Vagabond 63 Chap. VII.— The Difficult Mountain— A Smoke and Consultation — The Captain's Speech — ^An Icy Turnpike — Danger of a False Step — Ar- rival on Snake River — Return to Portneuf— • Meeting of Comrades 75 Chap. VIII. — Departure for the Rendezvous — A . War Party of Blackfeet — A Mock Bustle — Sham Fires at Night — Warlike Precautions — Dangers of a Night Attack — A Panic among Contents Yii PAGE Horses — Cautious March — The Beer Springs — A Mock Carousal— Skirmishing with Buffa- loes — A Buffalo Bait — Arrival at the Ren- dezvous — Meeting of Various Bands . . 84 Chap. IX.— Plan of the Salt Lake Expedition — Great Sandy Deserts — Sufferings from Thirst — Ogden's River — Trails and Smoke, of Lurk- ing Savages — Thefts at Night — A Trapper's Revenge — Alarms of a Guilty Conscience — A Murderous Victory — Californian Mountains — Plains Along the Pacific — Arrival at Mon- terey — Account of the Place and Neighbor- hood — Lower California — Its Extent — The Peninsula — Soil — Climate — Production — Its Settlement by the Jesuits — ^Their Sway over the Indians — Their Expulsion — Ruins of a Missionary Establishment — Sublime Scenery — IJpper California — Missions — Their Power and Policy— Resources of the Country — De- signs of Foreign Nations . . . •92 Chap. X. — Gay Life at Monterey — Mexican Horse- men — A Bold Dragoon — Use of the Lasso — Vaqueros — Noosing a Bear — Fight between a Bull and a Bear — Departure from Monterey — Indian Horse-stealers — Outrages Committed by the Travellers-:-Indignation of Captain Bonneville 107 Chap. XI. — Travellers' Tales — Indian Lurkers — Prognostics of Buckeye — Signs and Portents — The Medicine Wolf— An Alarm — An Am- bush — The Captured Provant — Triumph of Buckeye — Arrival of Supplies — Grand Ca- Vlll Contentd "'^-T liiM: PAOB rouse — Arrangements for the Year — Mr. Wyeth and his New-Levied Band . . .114 Chap. XII. — A Voyage in a Bull-Boat . . 122 Chap. XIII. — Departure of Captain Bonneville for the Columbia — Advance of Wyeth — Ef- forts to Keep the Lead — Hudson's Bay Party — A Junketing — A Delectable Beverage — Honey and Alcohol — High Carousing — The Canadian Bon Vivant — A Cache — A Rapid Move — Wyeth and his Plans — His Travelling Companions — Buffalo Hunting — More Con- viviality — An Interruption .... 149 Chap. XIV.— A Rapid March— A Cloud of Dust — Wild Horsemen — " High Jinks " — Horse- Racing and Rifie-Shooting — The Game of "Hand"— The Fishing Season — Mode of Fishing — Table Lands — Salmon Fishers — ^The Captain's Visit to an Indian Lodge — The In- dian Girl — The Pocket Mirror — Supper — Troubles of an Evil Conscience . . . 159 Chap. XV. — Outfit of a Trapper — Risks to which he is Subjected — Partnership of Trappers — Enmity of Indians — Distant Smoke — A Country on Fire — Gun Creek — Grand Rond — Fine Pastures — Perplexities in a Smoky Country — Conflagration of Forests . . 170 Chap. XVI.— The Skynses— Their Traffic—Hunt- ing — Food — Horses — A Horse-Race — Devo- tional Feelings of the Skynses, Nez Percys, and Flatheads — Prayers — Exhortations — A Preacher on Horseback — Effect of Religion on the Manners of the Tribes — A New Light 179 Contetit0 IX PAOB Chap. XVII. — Scarcity in the Camp — Refusal of Supplies by the Hudson's Bay Company — Conduct of the Indians — A Hungry Retreat — John Day's River — The Blue Mountains — Salmon Fishing on Snake River— Messengers from the Crow Country — Bear River Valley — Immense Migration of Buffalo— Danger of Buffalo Hunting — A Wounded Indian — Kutaw Indians — A "Surround" of Antelopes . . 187 Chap. XVIII.— A Festive Winter — Conversion of the Shoshonies— -Visit of Two Free Trappers— Gayety in the Camp — A Touch of the Tender Passion — The Reclaimed Squaw — An Indian Fine Lady — An Elopement— A Pursuit — Market Value of a Bad Wife 199 Chap. XIX. — Breaking up of Winter Quarters- Move to Green River — A Trapper and his Rifle — An Arrival in Camp— A Free Trapper and his Squaw in Distress— Story of a Black- foot Belle . . . . . i . . 207 Chap. XX. — A Rendezvous at Wind River— Cam- paign of Montero and his Brigade in the Crow Country — Wars between the Crows and Black- feet — Death of Arapooish — Blackfeet Lurkers — Sagacity of the Horse — Dependence of the Hunter on his Horse — Return to the Settle- ments 215 APPENDIX. Mr. Wyeth and the Trade of the Far West . . 229 Wreck of a Japanese Junk on the Northwest Coast 235 X Conteitt0 rAoa Instructions to Captain Bonneville from the Ma* jor-General Commanding the Army of the United States . 236 MISCELLANIES Woi.i'ERT's Roost 241 The Birds op Spring 272 The Creoi^e Vii«i«age 282 MouNTjOY 296 REC0I4;ECTI0NS OP THE AUIAMBRA • • . 366 I THE ADVENTURES OF CAPTAIN BONNEVILLE. Cbapter f « State of the Fur Trade of the Rocky Mountains-^ American Enterprises — General Ashley and his As> sociates — Sublette, a Famous Leader — ^Yearly Ren- dezvous among the Mountains — Stratagems and Dangers of the Trade — Bands of Trappers — ^Indian Banditti— -Crows and Blackfeet — Mountaineers — Traders of the Far West— Character and Habits of the Trapper. IN a recent work we have given an account of the grand enterprise of Mr. John Jacob Astor, to establish an American emporium for the fur trade at the mouth of the Columbia, or Oregon River ; of the failure of that enter- prise through the capture of Astoria by the VOL.1. 11 a J}onncvflIc'0 Bdvcnturcd British, in 1814 ; and of the way in which the control of the trade of the Columbia and its dependencies fell into the hands of the North- west Company. We have stated, likewise, the unfortunate supineness of the American gov- ernment, in neglecting the application of Mr. /. stor for the protection of the American flag, and a small military force, to enable him to reinstate himself in the possession of -Astoria at the return of peace ; when the post was formally given up by the British government, though still occupied by the Northwest Com- pany. By that supineness the sovereignty of the country has been virtually lost to the United States ; and it will cost both governments much trouble and difficulty to settle matters on that just and rightful footing, on which the)' would readily have been placed, had the proposition of Mr. Astor been attended to. We shall now state a few particulars of subsequent events, so as to lead the reader up to the period of which we are about xo treat, and to prepare him for the circumstances of our narrative. In consequence of the apathy and neglect of the American government, Mr. Astor aban- doned all thoughts of regaining Astoria, and made no further attempt to extend his enter- prises beyond the Rocky Mountains ; and the Northwest Company considered themselves fni (Tra^e ot tbc Itocliv Aountains 3 the lords of the country. They did not long enjoy unmolested the sway which they had somewhat surreptitiously attained. A fierce competition ensued between them and their old rivals, the Hudson's Bay Company ; which was carried on at great cost and sacrifice, and occasionally with the loss of life. It ended in the ruin of most of the partners of the North- west Company ; and the merging of the relics of that establishment, in 1 821, in the rival as- sociation. From that time, the Hudson's Bay Company enjoyed a monopoly of the Indian trade from the coast of the Pacific to the Rocky Mountains, and for a considerable ex- tent north and south. They removed their emporium from Astoria to Fort Vancouver, a strong post on the left bank of the Columbia River, about sixty miles from its mouth ; whence they furnished their interior posts, and sent forth their brigades of trappers. The Rocky Mountains formed a vast barrier between them and the United States, and their stern and awful defiles, their rugged valleys, and the great western plains watered by their rivers, remained almost a Urra incognita to the American trapper. The difficulties experienced in 1808, by Mr. Henry of the Missouri Com- pany, the first American who trapped upon the head-waters of the Columbia ; and the fright- ■•>i ill 4 J3onnevfllc'0 Bdventures fill hardships sustained bj' Wilson P. Hunt, Ramsay Crooks, Robert Stuart, and other in- trepid Astorians, in their ill-fated expeditions across the mountains, appeared for a time to check all further enterprise in that direction. The American traders contented themselves with following up the head branches of the Missouri, the Yellowstone, and other rivers and streams on the Atlantic side of the moun- tains, but forebore to attempt those great snow- crowned sierras. One of the first to reviv^e these tramontane expeditions was General Ashley, of Missouri, a man whose courage and achievements in the prosecution of his enterprises, have rendered him famous in the Far West. In conjunction with Mr. Henry, already mentioned, he estab- lished a post on the banks of the Yellowstone River, in 1822, and in the following year pushed a resolute band of trappers across the mountains to the banks of the Green River or Colorado of the West, often known by ^he Indian name of the Seeds-ke-dee Agie.* This attempt was followed up and sustained by others, until in 1825 a footing was secured, and a complete system of trapping organized be- yond the mountains. */. e.f the Prairie Hen River. Agie in the Crow language signifies river. pionecrd o( tbc fur CraDe It is difficult lo do justice to the courage, fortitude, and perseverance of the pioneers of the fur trade, who conducted these early expe- ditions, and first broke their way through a wilderness where everything was calculated to deter and dismay them. They had to traverse the most dreary and desolate mountains, and barren and trackless wastes, uninhabited by man, or occasionally infested by predatory and cruel savages. They knew nothing of the country beyond the verge of their horizon, and had to gather information as they wandered. They beheld volcanic plains stretching around them, and ranges of mountains piled up to the clouds, and glistening with eternal frost ; but knew nothing of their defiles, nor how they were to be penetrated or traversed. They launched themselves in frail canoes on rivers, without knowing whither their swift currents would carry them, or what rocks, and shoals, and rapids they might encounter in their course. They had to be continually on the alert, too, against the mountain tribes, who be- set every defile, laid ambuscades in their path, or attacked them in their night encampments ; so that, of the hardy bands of trappers that first entered into these regions, three fifths are said to have fallen by the hands of savage foes. In this wild and warlike school a number of Xonneville'e Biwentures M leaders have sprung up, originally in the em- ploy, subsequently partners of Ashley ; among these we may mention Smith, Fitzpatrick, Bridger, Robert Campbell, and William Sub- lette ; whose adventures and exploits partake of the wildest spirit of romance. The associa- tion commenced by General Ashley underwent various modifications. That gentleman having acquired sufficient fortune, sold out his interest and retired ; and the leading spirit that suc- ceeded him was Captain William Sublette ; a man worthy of note, as his name has become renowned in frontier story. He is a native of Kentucky, and of game descent ; his maternal g and father, Colonel Wheatley, a companion of Boon, having been one of the pioneers of the West, celebrated in Indian warfare, and killed in one of the contests of the " Bloody Ground." We shall frequently have occasion to speak of this Sublette, and always to the credit of his game qualities. In 1830, the asso- ciation took the name of the Rocky Mountain Fur Company, of which Captain Sublette and Robert Campbell were prominent members. In the meantime, the success of this com- pany attracted the attention and excited the emulation of the American Fur Company, and brought them once more into the field of their ancient enterprise. Mr. Astor, the founder of Dan^erd of tbc Tirade 7 the association, had retired from busy life, and the concerns of the company were ably man- aged by Mr. Ramsay Crooks, of Snake River renown, who still officiated as its president. A competition immediately ensued between the two companies, for the trade with the moun- tain tribes, and the trapping of the head- waters of the Columbia, and the other great tributaries of the Pacific. Beside the regular operations of these formidable rivals, there have been from time to time desultory enterprises, or rather experiments, of minor associations, or of adventurous individuals, besides roving bands of independent trappers, who either hunt for themselves, or engage for a single season, in the service of one or other of the main companies. The consequence is, that the Rocky Moun- tains and the i Iterior regions, from the Russian possessions in the north, down to the Spanish settlements of California, have been traversed and ransacked in every direction by bands of hunters and Indian traders ; so that there is scarcely a mountain pass, or defile, that is not known and threaded in their restless migra- tions, nor a nameless stream that is not haunted by the lonely trapper. The American fur companies keep no estab- lished post beyond the mountains. Everything ■i I 8 JSonneville'0 B^t^enture^ there is regulated by resident partners ; that is to say, partners who reside in the tramontane country, but who move about from place to place, either with Indian tribes, whose traffic they wish to monopolize, or with main bodies of their own men, whom they employ in trad- ing and trapping. In the meantime, they de- tach bands, or ** brigades " as they are termed, of trappers in various directions, assigning to each a portion of country as a hunting, or trapping ground. In the months of June or July, when there is an interval between the hunting seasons, a general rendezvous is held, at some designated place in the mountains, where the affairs of the past year are settled by the resident partners, and the plans for the following year arranged. To this rendezvous repair the various brig- ades of trappers from their widely separated hunting grounds, bringing in the product of their year's campaign. Hither also repair the Indian tribes accustomed to traffic their peltries with the company. Bands of free trappers resort hither also, to sell the furs they have collected; or to engage th?ir services for the next hunting season. To this rendezvous the company sends annu- ally a convoy of su^> lies from its establisment on the Atlantic frontier, under the guidanc.e of some experienced partner or officer. On the arrival of this conv^oy, the resident partner at the rendezvous depends, to set all his next year's machinery in motion. Now as the rival companies keep a vigilant eye upon each other, and are anxious to dis- cover each other's plans and movements, they generally contrive to hold their annual assem- blages at no great distance apart. An eager competition exists also between their respec- tive convoys of supplies, which shall first reach its place of rendezvous. For this purpose, they set off with the first appearance of grass on the Atlantic frontier, and push with all diligence for the mountains. The company that can first open its tempting supplies of coffee, tobacco, ammunition, scarlet cloth, blankets, bright shawls, and glittering trinkets, has the great- est chance to get all the peltries and furs of the Indians and free trappers, and to engage their services for the next season. It is able, also, to fit out and despatch its own trappers the soonest, so as to get the start of its competitors, and to have the first dash into the hunting and trapping grounds. A new species of strategy has sprung out of this hunting and trapping competition. The constant study of the rival bands is to forestall and outwit each other ; to supplant each other ■'■?,---■■" ,7 -itt-H 10 JSonnevillc'd Bdventures M' l;n|i iiijl in the good-will and custom of the Indian tribes ; to cross each other's plans; to mislead each other as to routes ; in a word, next to his own advantage, the study of the Indian trader is the disadvantage of his competitor. The influx of this wandering trade has had its effects on the habits of the mountain tribes. They have found the trapping of the beaver their most profitable species of hunting ; and the traffic with the white man has opened to them sources of luxury of which they previously had no idea. The introduction of fire-arms has rendered them more successful hunters, but at the same time more formidable foes ; some of them, incorrigibly savage and warlike in their nature, have found the expeditions of the fur traders grand objects of profitable ad- venture. To waylay and harass a band of trappers with their pack-horses, when embar- rassed in the rugged defiles of the mountains, has become as favorite an exploit with these Indians as the plunder of a caravan to the Arab of the desert. The Crows and Blackfeet, who were such terrors in the path of the early ad- venturers to Astoria, still continue their preda- tory habits, but seem to have brought them to greater system. Thej'' know the routes and resorts of the trappers ; where to waylay them on their journeys ; where to find them in the ^rbe ** yiSountaineers ** ti 1 Hinting seasons, and where to hover about llieni in winter quarters. The life of a trapper, therefore, is a perpetual state militant, and he must sleep wnth his weapons in his hands. A new order of trappers and traders, also, has grown out of this system of things. In the old times of the great Northwest Com- pany, when the trade in furs was pursued chiefly about the lakes and rivers, the expedi- tions were carried on in batteaux and canoes. The voyageurs or boatmen were the rank and file in the service of the trader, and even the hardy ** men of the north," those great rufflers and game birds, were fain to be paddled from point to point of their migrations. A totally different class has now sprung up ; — the "Mountaineers," the traders and trap- pers that scale the vast mountain chains, and pursue their hazardous vocations amidst their wild recesses. They move from place to place on horseback. The equestrian exercises, there- fore, in which they are engaged, the nature of the countries they traverse, vavSt plains and mountains, pure and exhilarating in atmos- pheric qualities, seem to make them physically and mentally a more lively and mercurial race than the fur traders and trappers of former days, the self- vaunting ** men of the north." A man who bestrides a horse, must be essen- 19 Xonncvillc*B Bdt^entured tially different from a man who cowers in a canoe. We find them, accordingly, hardy, lithe, vigorous, and active ; extravagant in word, in thought, and deed ; heedless of hard- ship ; daring of danger ; prodigal of the pres- ent, and thoughtless of the future. A difference is to be perceived even between these mountain hunters and those of the lower regions along the waters of the Missouri. The latter, generally French Creoles, live comfort- ably in cabins and log-huts, well sheltered from the inclemencies of the seasons. They are within the reach of frequent supplies from the settlements ; their life is comparatively free from danger, and from most of the vicissitudes of the upper wilderness. The consequence is, that they are less hardy, self-dependent, and game-spirited than the mountaineer. If the latter by chance come among them on his way to and from the settlements, he is like a game- cock among the common roosters of the poultry- yard. Accustomed to live in tents, or to bivouac in the open air, he despises the comforts and is impatient of the confinement of the log-house If his meal is not ready in season, he takes his rifle, hies to the forest or prairie, shoots his own game, lights his fire, and cooks his repast. With .lis horse and his rifle, he is independent of the world, and spurns at all its restraints. Cbaractcr of tbe (Trapper 13 The very superintendents at the lower posts will not put him to mess with thecommon men, the hirelings of the establishment, but treat him as something superior. There is, perhaps, no class of men on the face of the earth, says Captain Bonneville, who lead a life of more continued exertion, peril, and excitement, and who are more enamoured of their occupations, than the free trappers of the West. No toil, no danger, no privation can turn the trapper from his pursuit. His pas- sionate excitement at times resembles a mania. In vain maj' the most vigilant and cruel savages beset his path ; in vain may rocks, and preci- pices, and wintry torrents oppose his progress ; but let a single track of beaver meet his eye, and he forgets all dangers and defies all diffi- culties. At times he may be seen with his traps on his shoulder, buffeting his way across rapid streams, amidst floating blocks of ice : at other times, he is to be found with his traps swung on his back clambering the most rug- ged mountains, scaling or descending the most frightful predpices, searching, by routes inac- cessible to the horse, and never before trodden by white man, for springs and lakes unknown to his comrades, and where he may meet with his favorite game. Such is the mountaineer, the hardy trapper of the West ; and such, as rm M XonncviUc*6 B^vcntnxcs IWlit ■ I 1, I- we have slightly sketched it, is the wild, Robin Hood kind of life, with all its strange and motley populace, now existing in full vigor among the Rocky Mountains. Having thus given the reader some idea of the actual state of the fur trade in the interior of our vast continent, and made him acquainted with the wild chivalry of the mountains, we will no longer delay the introduction of Captain Bonneville and his band into this field of their enterprise, but launch them at once upon the perilous plains of the Far West. I Cbaptet f 1« Departure from Fort Osag- — Modes of Transportation — Pack-horses — Wagons — Walker and Cerrd ; their Characters — Buoyant Feelings on Launching upon the Prairies — Wild Equipments of the Trappers— Their Gambols and Antics — Difference of Character Between the American and French Trappers — Agency of the Kansas — General Clarke — Whit* Plume, the Kansas Chief— Night Scene in Trader's Camp — Colloquy between White Plume and the Captain — Bee Hunters — ^Their Expeditions — ^Their Feuds with the Indians — Bargaining Talent of White Plume. IT was on the first of May, 1832, that Captain Bonneville took his departure from the frontier post of Fort Osage, on the Mis- souri. He had enlisted a party of one hundred and ten men, most of whom had been in the Indian country, and some of whom were ex- perienced hunters and trappers. Fort Osage, and other places on the borders of the western wilderness, abound with characters of the kind,. ready for any expedition. « 1$ l6 J8onnevUIe'0 Ti^vcntuxcs The ordinary mode of transportation in these great inland expeditions of the fur traders is on mules and pack-horses ; but Captain Bonneville substituted wagons. Though he was to travel through a trackless wilderness, yet the greater part of his route would lie across open plains, destitute of forests, and where wheel carriages can pass in every direction. The chief difl&- culty occurs in passing the deep ravines cut through the prairies by streams and winter torrents. Here it is often necessary to dig a road down the banks, and to make bridges for the wagons. In transporting his baggage in vehicles of this kind, Captain Bonneville thought he would save the great delay caused every morning by packing the horses, and the labor of unpack- ing in the evening. Fewer horses also would be required, and less risk incurred of their wandering away, or being frightened or carried off by the Indians. The wagons, also, would be more easily defended, and might form a kind of fortification in case of attack in the open prairies. A train of twenty wagons, drawn by oxen, or by four mules or horses each, and laden with merchandise, an?munition, and provisions, were disposed in two columns in the centre of the party, which was equally- divided into a van and a rear-guard. Ap sub- Malltcr an^ Cerr^ 17 leaders or lieutenants in his expedition, Cap- tain Bonneville had made choice of Ar. I. R. Walker and Mr. M. S. Cerrfe. The former was a native of Tennessee, about six feet high, strong built, dark complexioned, brave in spirit, though mild in manners. He had re- sided for many years in Missouri, on the fron- tier ; had been among the earliest adventurers to Santa Fd, where he went to trap beaver, and was taken by the Spaniards. Being liber- ated, he engaged with the Spaniards and Sioux Indians in a war against the Pawnees ; then returned to Missouri, and had acted by turns as sheriff", trader, trapper, until he was enlisted as a leader by Captain Bonneville. Cerre, his other leader, had likewise been in expeditions to Santa F6, in which he had endured much hardship. He was of the mid- dle size, light complexioned, and though but about twenty-five years of age, was considered an experienced Indian trader. It was a great object with Captain Bonneville to get to the mountains before the summer heats and sum- mer flies should render the travelling across the prairies distressing ; and before the annual assemblages of people connected v/ith the fur trade, should have broken up, and dispersed to the hunting grounds. The two rival associations already mentioned, VOL. 1.— a 18 3DoniicvilIc d B^venturc0 the American Fur Compcny and the Rocky Mountain Fur Company, had their several places of rendezvous for the present year at no great distance apart, in Pierre's Hole, a deep valley in the heart of the mountains, and thither Captain Bonneville intended to shape his course. It is not easy to do justice to the exulting feelings of the worthy captain, at finding him- self rX the head of a stout band of hunters, trapiiers, and woodmen ; fairly launched on the broad prairies, with his face to the bound- less West. The tamest inhabitant of cities, the veriest spoiled child of civilization, feels his heart dilate and his pulse beat high, on finding himself en horseback in the glorious wilderness ; what then must be the excitement of one whose imagination had been stimulated by a residence on the froutier, and to whom the wilderness was a region of romance ! His hardy followers partook of his excite- ment. Most of them had already experienced the wild freedom of savage life, and looked forward to a renewal of past scenes of adveti- ture and exploit. Their very appearance and equipment exhibited a piebald mixture, half civilized and half savage. Many of them looked more like Indians than white men, in their garbs and accoutrements, and their very Xauncbtn0 Out on tbc prairkd 19 horses were caparisoned in barbaric style, with fantastic trappings. The outset of a band of adventurers in one of these expeditions is al- ways animated and joyous. Tlie welkin rang with their shouts and yelps, after the manner of the savages ; and with boisterous jokes and light-hearted laughter. As they passed the straggling hamlets and solitary cabins that fringe the skirts of the frontier, they would startle their inmates by Indian yells and war- whoops, or regale them with grotesque feats of horsemanship, well suited to their half-savage appearance. Most of these abodes were in- habited by men who had themseives been in similar expeditions ; they welcomed the trav- ellers, therefore, as brother trappers, treated them with a hunter's hospitality, and cheered them with an honest God speed, at parting. And here we would remark a great differ- ence, in point of character and quality, between the two classes of trappers, the " American ** and " French," as they are called in contradis- tinction. The latter is meant to designate the French Creole of Canada or Louisiana ; the former, the trapper of the old American stock, from Kentucky, Tennessee, and others of the Western States. The French trapper is repre- sented as a lighter, softer, more self-indulgent kind of man. He must have his Indian wife, 2<) JSonneviUc'0 Bdvcnturcd 1 ir M his lodge, and his petty conveniences. He is gay and thoughtless, takes little heed of land- marks, depends upon his leaders and compan- ions to think for the common weal, and, if left to himself, is ei sily perplexed and lost. The American trapper stands by himself, and is peerless for the service of the wilderness. Drop him in the midst of a prairie, or in the heart of the mountains, and he is never at a loss. He notices every landmark ; can retrace his route through the most monotonous plains, or the most perplexed labyrinths of the moun- tains ; no danger nor difficulty can appall him, and he scorns to complain under any privation. In equipping the two kinds of trappers, the Creole and Canadian are apt to prefer the light fusee ; the American always grasps his rifle ; he despises what he calls the ** shot-gun." We give these estimates on the authority of a trader of long experience, and a foreigner by birth. ** I consider one American," said he, "equal to three Canadians in point of sagacity, apt- ness at resources, vself-dependence, and fearless- ness of spirit. In fact, no one can cope with him as a stark tramper of the wilderness. ' ' Beside the two classes of trappers just men- tioned. Captain Bonneville had enlisted several Delaware Indians in his employ, on whose hunting qualifications he placed great reliance. tion done even of supe theci with wate patri prete excel r'l Bdenci? of tbc fcatiead ;rrtbc 31 On the 6th of May the travellers passed the last border habitation, and bade a long farewell to the ease and security of civilization. The buoyant and clamorous spirits with which they had commenced their march, gradually sub- sided as they entered upon its difficulties. They found the prairies saturated with the heavy cold rains, prevalent in certain seasons of the year in this part of the country, the wagon wheels sank deep in the mire, the horses were often to the fetlock, and both steed and rider were completely jaded by the evening of the 1 2th, when they reached the Kansas River ; a fine stream about three hundred yards wide, entering the Missouri from the south. Though fordable in almost every part at the end of summer and during the autumn, yet it was necessary to construct a raft for the transporta- tion of the wagons and effects. All this was done in the course of the fUlowing day, and by evening, the whole party arrived at the agency of the Kansas tribe. This was under the superintendence of General Clarke, brother of the celebrated traveller of the same name, who, with Lewis, made the first expedition down the waters of the Columbia. He was living like a patriarch, surrounded by laborers and inter- preters, all snugly housed, and provided with excellent farms. The functionary next in con- UNIVERSITY OF MANITOBA JUNIOR LIBRARY iH^fcW •'•^rf*"^^ aa XonncvU[c*e BDventured sequence to the agent was the blacksmith, a most important, and, indeed, indispensable per- sonage in a frontier community. The Kansas resemble the Osages in features, dress, and language ; they raise corn and hunt the buf- falo, ranging the Kansas River, and its tribu- tary streams; at the time of the captain's visit, they were at war with the Pawnees of the Nebraska, or Platte River. The mi usual sight of a train of wagons, caused quite a sensation among these savages ; who thronged about the caravan, examining every thing minutely, and asking a thousand questions ; exhibiting a degree of excitability, and a lively curiosity, totally opposite to that apathy with which their race is so often re- proached. The personage who most attracted the cap- tain's attention at this place, was "White Plume," the Kansas chief, and they soon be- came good friends. White Plume (we are pleased with his chivalrous soubriquet) inhabi- ted a large stone house, built for him by order of the American government ; but the estab- lishment had not been carried out in corre- sponding style. It might be palace without, but it was wigwam within : so that, between the stateliness of his mansion, and the squalid- ness of his furniture, the gallant White Plume ASetbod of JEncampfno 23 presented some such whimsical incongruity as we see in the gala equipments of ^ an Indian chief, on a treaty-making embassy at Washing- ton, who has been generously decked out in cocked hat and military coat, in contrast to, his breech-clout and leathern leggings ; being grand officer at top, and ragged Indian at bottom. White Plume was so taken with the courtesy of the captain, and pleased with one or two presents received from him, that he accompa- nied him a day's journey on his march, and passed a night in his camp, on the margin of a small stream. The method of encamping generally observed by the captain, was as fol- lows : The twenty wagons were disposed in a square, at the distance of thirty-three feet from each other. In every interval there was a mess stationed ; and each mess had its fire, where the men cooked, ate, gossiped, and slept. The horses were placed in the centre of the square, with a guard stationed over them at night. The horses were *' side-lined," as it is termed: that is to say, the fore and hind foot on the same side of the animal were tied together, so as to be within eighteen inches of each other. A horse thus fettered is for a time sadly embar- rassed, but soon becomes sufficiently accus- tomed to the restraint to move about slowly. 24 JSpnneviUe'd Bdventuree :''*ii * ni!i It prevents his wandering ; and his being easily carried off at night by lurking Indians. When a horse that is " foot free," is tied to one thus secured, the latter forms, as it were, a pivot, round which the other runs and curvets, in case of alarm. The encampment of which we are speaking, presented a striking scene. The various mess- fires were surrounded by picturesque groups, standing, sitting, and reclining ; some busied in cooking, others in cleaning their weapons : while the frequent laugh told that the rough joke, or merry story was going on. In the middle of the camp, before the principal lodge, sat the two chieftains. Captain Bonneville and White Plume, in soldier-like communion, the captain delighted with the opportunity of meet- ing, on social terms, with one of the red war- riors of the wilderness, the unsophisticated children of nature. The latter was squatted on his buffalo robe, his strong features and red skin glaring in the broad light of a blazing fire, while he recounted astounding tales of the bloody exploits of his tribe and himself, in their wars with the Pawnees ; for there are no soldiers more given to long campaigning stories than Indian "braves." The feuds of White Plume, however, had not been confined to the red men : he had Xce 1)untcr 25 much to say of brushes with bee hunters, a class of offl-iiders for whom he seemed to cher- ish a particular abhorrence. As the species of hunting prosecuted by these worthies is not laid down in any of the ancient books of ven- erie, and is, in fact, peculiar to our western frontier, a word or two on the subject may not be unacceptable to the reader. The bee hunter is generally some settler on the \ erge of the prairie ; a long, lank fellow, of fever and ague complexion, acquired from living on new soil, and in a hut built of green logs. In the a; '*"i"*n, when the harvest is over, these frontier sc= iirs form parties of two or three, and prepare for a bee hunt. Having provided themselves with a wagon, and a num- ber of empty casks, they sally off, armed with their rifles, into the wilderness, directing their course east, west, north, or south, without any regard to the ordinance of the American gov- ernment, which strictly forbids all trespass upon the lands belonging to the Indian tribes. The belts of woodland that traverse the lower prairies, and border the rivers, are peopled by innumerable swarms of wild bees, which make their hives in hollow trees, and fill them with honey tolled from the rich flowers of the prai- ries. The bees, according to popular assertion, are migrating, like the settlers, to the west. 26 Xonncvillc'B lEibvcwtnvee An Indian trader, well experienced in the country, informs us that within ten years that he has passed iu the Far West, the bee has advanced west wan above a hundred miles. It is said on the Missouri, that the wild turkey and the wild bee go up the river together : neither are found in the upper regions. It is but recently that the wild turkey has been killed on the Nebraska, or Platte ; and his travelling competitor, the wild bee, appeared there about the same time. Be all this as it may : the course of our party of bee hunters, is to make a wide circuit through the woody river bottoms, and the patches of forest on the prairies, marking, as they go out, every tree in which they have detected a hive. These marks are generally respected by any other bee hunter that should come upon their traok. When they have marked sufificient to fill all their casks, they turn their faces home- ward, cut down the trees as they proceed, and having loade;d their wagon with honey and wax, return well pleased to the settlements. • Now it so happens that the Indians relish wild honey as highly as do the white men, and are the more delighted with this natural lux- ury from its having, in many i distances, but recently made its appearance in their lands. The consequence is, numberless disputes and trading Halent of Mbftc plume 37 conflicts between them and the bee hunters : and often a party of the latter, returning, laden with rich spoil, from one of their foraj's, are apt to be waylaid by the native lords of the soil ; their honey to be seized, their harness cut to pieces, and themselves left to find their way home the best way they can, happy to escape with no greater personal harm than a sound rib- roasting. Such were the marauders of whose offenses the gallant White Plume made the most bitter complaint. They were chiefly the settlers of the western part of Missouri, who are the most famous bee hunters on the frontier, and who.se favorite hunting ground lies within the lands of the Kansas tribe. According to the account of White Plume, however, matters were pretty fairly balanced between him and the offenders ; he hf \ring as often tviated them to a taste of the bitter, as they had robbed him of the sweets It is but justice to this gallant chief to say, that he gave proofs of having acquired some of the lights of civilization from his proximity to the whites, as was evinced in his knowledge of driving a bargain. He required hard cash in return for some corn with which he supplied the worthy captain, and left the latter at a loss which most to admire, his native chivalry as a brave, or his acquired adroitness as a trader. Il . Cbaptet f f f • fl. ii:i Wide Prairies — Vegetable Productions — Tabular Hills — Slabs of Sandstone — Nebraska or Platte River^ Scanty Fare — Bufifalo SVulls — Wagons Turned into Boats — ^Herds of Buffalo — Clitk Resembling Castles —The Chimney— Scott's Bluffs— Story Connected with them — ^The Bighorn or Ahsahta — ^Its Nature and Habits — ^Difference between that and the "Woolly Sheepi" or Goat of the Mountains. FROM the middle to the end of May, Cap- tain Bonneville pursued a western course over vast, undulating plains, destitute of tree or shrub, rendered miry by occasional rain, and cut up by deep water-courses, where they had to dig roads for their wagons down the soft crumbling banks, and to throw bridgesi across the streams. The weather had attained the summer heat ; the thermometer standing about fifty-seven degrees in the morning, early, but rising to about ninety degrees at noon. The incessant breezes, however, which sweep these vast plains, render the heats endurable. Game * a? (Tabular f)ill0 -9 was scanty, and they had to eke out their scanty fare with wild roots and vegetables, such as the Indian potato, the wild onion, and the prairie tomato, and they met with quan- tities of "red root," from which the hunters make a vu-y palatable beverage. The only human being that crossed their path was a Kansas warrior, returning from some solitary expedition of bravado or revenge, bearing a Pawnee scalp as a trophy. The country gradually rose as they proceeded westward, and their route took them overhis^h ridges, commanding wide and beautiful pi '- pects. The vast plain was studded on the west with innumerable hills of conical shape, such as are seen north of the Arkansas River. These hills have their summits apparently cut oflf about the same elevation, so as to leave flat surfaces at top. It is conjectured by some, that the whole country may originally have been of the altitude of these tabular hills ; but through some process of nature may have sunk to its present level ; these insulated eminences being protected by broad foundations of solid rock. Captain Bonneville mentions another geo- logical phenomenon north of Red River, where the surface of the earth, in considerable tracts ot country, is covered with broad slabs of sand- 30 3BoitneviUe'0 BDvcnturcd stone, haying the form and position of grave- stones, and looking as if they had been forced up by some subterranean agitation. "The resemblance," says he, "which these very remarkable spots have in many places to old church-yards is curious in the extreme. One might almost fancy himself among the tombs of the pre- Adamites." On the 2d of June, they arrived on the main stream of the Nebraska or Platte River ; twenty- five miles below the head of the Great Island. The low banks of this river give it an appear- ance of great width. Captain Bonneville meas- ured it in one place, and found it twenty-two hundred yards from bank to bank. Its depth was from three to six feet, the bottom full of quicksands. The Nebraska is studded with islands covered with that species of poplar called the cotton-wood tree. Keeping up along the course of this river for several days, they were obliged, from the scarcity of game, to put themselves upon short allowance, and, occa- sionally, to kill a steer. They bore their daily labors and privations, however, with great good humor, taking their tone, in all probability, from the buoyant spirit of their leader. ** If the weather was inclement," says the captain, '* we watched the clouds, and hoped for a sight of the blue sky and the merry sun. If food #orlt of fiebrasfia "River SI was scanty, we regaled ourselves with the hope of soon falling in with herds of buffalo, and having nothing to do but slay and eat." We doubt whether the genial captain is not describ- ing the cheeriness of his own breast, which gave a cheery aspect to everything around him. There certainly were evidences, however, that the country was not always equally desti- tute of game. At one place, they observed a field decorated with buffalo skulls, arranged in circles, curves, and other mathematical figures, as if for some mystic rite or ceremony. They were almost innumerable, and seemed to have been a vast hecatomb offered up in thanksgiv- ing to the Great Spirit for some signal success in the chase. On the nth of June, they came to the fork of the Nebraska, where it divides itself into two equal and beautiful streams. One of these branches rises in the west-southwest, near the head-waters of the Arkansas. Up the course of this branch, as Captain Bonneville was well aware, lay the route to the Camanche and Kio- way Indians, and to the northern Mexican set- tlements ; of the other branch he knew nothing. Its sources might lie among wild and inaccessi- ble cliffs, and tumble and foam down rugged defiles and over craggy precipices; but its direction was in the true course, and up this 33 J8oitncviUe*d BDvcnturee stream he determined to prosecute his route to the Rocky Mountains. Finding it impos- sible, from quicksands and other dangerous impediments, to cross the river in this neigh- bo»-hood, he kept up along the south fork for two days, merely seeking a safe fording place. At length he encamped, caused the bodies of the wagons to be dislodged from the wheels, covered with buffalo hides, and besmeared with a compound of tallow and ashes, thus forming rude boats. In these, they ferried their effects across the stream, which was six hundred yards wide, with a swift and strong current. Three men were in each boat, to manage it ; others waded across, pushing the barks before them. Thus all crossed in safety. A march of nine miles took them over high rolling prai- ries to the north fork ; their eyes being regaled with the welcome sight of herds of buffalo at a distance, some careering the plain, others graz- ing and reposing in the natural meadows. Skirting along the north fork for a day or two, excessively annoyed by musquitoes and buffalo gnats, they reached, on the evening of the 17th, a small but beautiful grove, from which issued the confused notes of singing birds, the first they had heard since crossing the boundary of Missouri. After so many days of weary travelling, through a naked, monoto- JDufTalo 'Randc 33 nous, and silent countrj-, it was delightful once 'iiore to hear the song of the bird, and to be- !iold the verdure of the grove. It was a beau- tiful sunset, and a sight of the glowing rays, mantling the tree-tops and rustling branches, gladdened every heart. They pitched theii camp in the grove, kindled their fires, partook merrily of their rude fare, resigned themselves to the sweetest sleep they had enjoyed since their outset upon the prairies. The country now became rugged and broken. High bluffs advanced upon the river, and forced the travellers occasionally to leave its banks and wind their course into the interior. In one of the wild and solitary passes, they were startled by the trail of four or five pedes- trians, whom they supposed to be spies from some predatory camp of either Arickara or Crow Indians. This obliged them to redouble their vigilance at night, and to keep especial watch upon their horses. In these rugged and elevated regions they began to see the black- tailed deer, a species larger than the ordinary kind, and chiefly found in rocky and moun- tainous countries. They had reached also a great buffalo range ; Captain Bonneville as- cended a high bluff, commanding an extensive view of the surrounding plains. As far as his eye could reach, the country seemed absolutely VOL. I.— 3 54 jjonucvUlc'0 Bdventure0 blackened by innumerable herds. No lan- guage, he says, could convey an adequate idea of the vast living mass thus presented to his eye. He remarked that the bulls and cows generally congregated in separate herds. Opposite to the camp at this place was a sin- gular phenomenon, which is among the curi- osities of the country. It is called the Chimney. The lower part is a conical mound, rising out of the naked plain ; from the summit shoots up a shaft or column, about one hundred and twenty feet in height, from which it derives its name. The height of the whole, according to Captain Bonneville, is a hundred and seventy- five yards. It is composed of indurated clay, with alternate layers of red and white sand- stone, and may be seen at the distance of upwards of thirty miles. On the 2ist, they encamped amidst high and beetling cliffs of indurated clay and sandstone, bearing the semblance of towers, castles, churches, and fortified cities. At a distance, it was scarcel)^ possible to persuade one's self that the works of art were not mingled with these "fantastic freaks of nature. They have received the name of Scott's Bluffs, from a melancholy circumstance. A number of years since, a party were descending the upper part of the river in canoes, when their frail barks were ove: rifle able pen< Afte arri\ thei mile: one < take] until suffic ing r cover evide: was tl migh reach hngei cxhai of m< forwa prevei party.! don tense mighl sertedl trail. Scotid J9lutr^ V of overturned and all their powder spoiled. Their rifles being thus rendered useless, they were un- able to procure food by hunting, and had to de- pend upon roots and wild fruits for subsistence. After suffering extremely from hunger, they arrived at Laramie's Fork, a small tributary of the north branch of the Nebraska, about sixty miles above the cliffs just mentioned. Here one of the party, by the name of Scott, was taken ill ; and his companions came to a halt, until he should recover health and strength suffic\ei t to proceed. While they were search- ing round in quest of edible roots, they dis- covered a fresh trail of white men, who had evidently but recently preceded them. What was to be done? By a forced march they might overtake this party, and thus be able to reach the settlements in safety. Should they linger, they might all perish of famine and exhaustion. Scott, however, was incapable of moving ; they were too feeble to aid him forward, and dreaded that such a clog would prevent their coming up with the advance party. They determined, therefore, to aban- don him to his fate. Accordingly, under pre- tense of seeking food, and such simples as might be efficacious in his malady, they de- serted him and hastened forward upon the trail. They succeeded in overtaking the party 36 JSonncvillc'a Bdrcnturee of which they were in quest, but concealed their faithless desertion of Scott ; alleging that he had died of disease. On the ensuing summer, these very individ- uals visiting these parts in company with others, came suddenly upon the bleached bones and grinning skull of a human skeleton, which, by certain signs, they recognized for the re- mains of Scott. This was sixty long miles from the place where they had abandoned him ; and it appeared that the wretched man had crawled that immense distance before death put an end to his miseries. The wild and picturesque bluffs in the neighborhood of his lonely grave have ever since bore his name. Amidst this wild and striking scenery, Cap- tain Bonneville, for the first time, beheld flocks of the ahsahta or bighorn, an animal which frequents these cliffs in great numbers. They accord with the nature of such scenery, and add much to its romantic effect ; bounding like goats from crag to crag, often trooping along the lofty shelves of the mountains, under the guidance of some venerable patriarch, with horns twisted lower than his muzzle, and some- times peering over the edge of a precipice, so high that they appear scarce bigger than crows ; indeed, it seems a pleasure to them to seek the most from Th tain other to th Flath in su the M\ mingl it has a goat slight] beauti color, as the sits a j so pl< three a resei of the musty might that oi be pro( The trary, It m i sheep, \i t['-tk Aountain Sbeep 37 most rugged and frightful situations, doubtless from a feeling of security. This animal is commonly called the moun- tain sheep, and is often confounded with an- other animal, the "woolly sheep," found more to the northward, about the country of the Flatheads. The latter likewise inhabits cliffs in summer, but descends into the valleys in the winter. It has white wool, like a sheep, mingled with a thin growth of long hair ; but it has short legs, a deep belly, and a beard like a goat. Its horns are about five inches long, slightly curved backwards, black as jet, and beautifully polished. Its hoofs are of the same color. This animal is by no means so active as the bighorn ; it does not bound much, but sits a good vdeal upon its haunches. It is not so plentiful either ; rarely more than two or three are seen at a time. Its wool alone gives a resemblance to the sheep ; it is more properly of the goat genus. The flesh is said to have a musty flavor ; some have thought the fleece might be valuable, as it is said to be as fine as that of the goat of Cashmere, but it is not to be procured in sufficient quantities. The ahsahta, argali, or bighorn, on the con- trary, has short hair like a deer, and resembles it in shape, but has the head and horns of a sheep, and its flesh is said to be a delicious :-i ^i-l 38 1BonncviUc*B Bdveiiturcd mutton. The Indians consider it more sweet and delicate than any other kind of venison. It abounds in the Rocky Mountains, from the fiftieth degree of north latitude, quite down to California ; generally in the highest regions capable of vegetation ; sometimes it ventures into the valleys, but on the least alarm, regains its favorite clijBFs and precipices, where it is perilous, if not impossible for the hunter to follow.* * Dimensions of a male of this species, from the nose to the base of the tail, five feet ; length of the tail, four inches ; girth of the body, four feet ; height, three feet eight inches ; the horn, three feet six inches long ; one foot three inches in circumference at base. Cbapter W. An Alarm — Crow Indians — Their Appearance — Mode of Approach — ^Their Vengeful Errand — Their Curi- osity — Hostility between the Crows and Blackfeet — Irving Conduct of the Crows — Laramie's Fork — First Navigation of the Nebraska — Great Elevation of the Country — Rarity of the Atmosphere— Its Ef- fect on the Wood-work of Wagons— -Black Hills — Their Wild and Broken Scenery — Indian Dogs- Crow Trophies— Sterile and Dreary Country — Banks of the Sweet Water — Buffalo Hunting — Ad- venture of Tom Cain, the Irish Cook. WHEN on the march, Captain Bonne- vrlle always sent some of his best hunters in the advance to reconnoi- tre the country, as well as to look out for game. On the 24th of May, as the caravan was slowly journeying up the banks of the Nebraska, the hunters came grlloping back, waving their caps, and giving the alarm cry, Indians ! Indians ! The captain immediately ordered a halt : the 39 40 ' J9oiinevUU'0 Bdventuree hunters now came up and announced that a large war-party of Crow Indians were just above, on the river. The captain knew the character of these savages ; one of the most roving, warlike, crafty, and predatory tribes of the mountains ; horse-stealors of the first order, and easily provoked to acts of sanguinary vio- lence. Orders were accordingly given to pre- pare for action, and every one promptly took the post that had been assigned him, in the general order of the march, in all cases of war- like emergency. Everything being put in battle array, the captain took the lead of his little band, and moved on slowly and warily. In a little while he beheld the Crow warriors emerging from among the bluffs. There were about sixty of them ; fine martial-looking fellows, painted and arrayed for war, and mounted on horses decked out with all kinds of wild trappings. They came prancing along in gallant style, with many wild and dexterous evolutions, for none can surpass them in horsemanship ; and their bright colors, and flaunting and fantastic em- bellishments, glaring and sparkling in the morning sunshine, gave them really a striking appearance. Their mode of approach to one not acquainted with the tactics and ceremonies of this rude for train with ing kind B \)cnQctnl JErranO 41 chivalry of the wilderness, had an air of direct hostility. They came galloping forward in a body, as if about to make a furious charge, but, when close at hand, opened to the right and left, and wheeled in wide circles round the travellers, whooping and yelling like maniacs. This done, their mock fury sank inlo a calm, and the chief, approaching the captain, who had remained warily drawn up, though in- formed of the pacific nature of the manoeuvre, extended to him the hand of friendship. The pipe of peace was smoked, and now all was good fellowship. The Crows were in pursuit of a band of Cheyennes, who had attacked their village in the night, and killed one of their people. They had already been five and twenty days on the track of the marauders, and were deter- mined not to return home until they had sated their revenge. A few days previously, some of their scouts, who were ranging the country at a distance from the main body, had discovered the party of Captain Bonneville. They had dogged it for a time in secret, astonished at the long train of wagons and oxen, and especially struck with the sight of a cow and calf, quietly follow- ing the caravan ; supposing them to be some kind of tame buffalo. Having satisfied their . 1 43 Xonncviiic*6 BDveniuree curiosity, they carried back to their chief intel- ligence of all that they had seen. He had, in consequence, diverged Irom his pursuit of ven- geance to behold the wonders described to him. * * Now that we have met you, ' ' said he to Cap- tain Bonneville, "and have seen these marvels with our own eyes, our hearts are glad." In fact, nothiiig could exceed the curiosity evinced by these people as to the objects before them,, Wagons l23d never been seen by them before, and they examined them with the greatest minuteness ; but the calf was the peculiar object of their admiration. They watched it with intense interest as it licked the hands accustomed to feed it, and were struck with the mild expression of its countenance and its perfect docility. After much sage consultation, they at length determined that it must be the * ' great medi- cine " of the white party, an appellation given by the Indians to anything of supernatural and mysterious power, that is guarded as a talisman. They were completely thrown out in their conjecture, however, by an offer of the white men to exchange the calf for a horse ; their estimation of the great medicine sank in an ihstant, and they declined the bargain. At the request of the Crow chieftain the two parties encamped together, and passed the resi- 1 1 ■':;'■'■ !if- £nmits of tbe Crowe anD JSlacltteet 43 due of the day in company. The captain was well pleased with every opportunity to gain a knowledge of the " unsophisticated sons of nature," who had so long been objects of his poetic speculations ; and indeed this wild, liorse sUialing tribe is one of the most notori- ous of the mountains. The chief, of course, had hif scalps to show and his battles to re- count;. The Blackfoot is the hereditary enemy *■ the Crow, towards whom hostility is like a cherished principle of religion ; for every tribe, besides its casual antagonists, has some endur- ing foe with whom there can be no permanent reconciliation. The Crows and Blackfeet, upon the whole, are enemies worthy of each other, being rogues and ruffians of the first water. As their predatory excursions extend over the same regions, they often come in contact with each other, and these casual conflicts serve to keep their wits awake and their passions alive. The present party of Crows, however, evinced nothing of the invidious character for which they are renowned. During the day and night that they were encamped in company with the travellers, their conduct was friendly in the extreme. They were, in fact, quite irksome in their attentions, and had a caressing man- ner at times quite importunate. It was not *:f 44 JSonneville'0 BDventures 1 M until after separation on the following morn- ing, that the captain and his men ascertained the secret of aU this loving-kindness. In the course of their fraternal caresses, the Crows had contrived to emptj' the pockets of their white brothers ; to abstract the very buttons from their coats, and, above all, to make free with their hunting knives. By equal altitudes of the sun, taken at this last encampment. Captain Bonneville ascer- tained his latitude to be 41** 47' north. The thermometer, at six o'clock in the morning, stood at fifty-nine degrees ; at two o'clock p. M., at ninety-two degrees ; and at six o'clock in the evening, at seventy degrees. The Black Hills, or Mountains, now began to 'be seen at a distance, printing the horizon with their rugged and broken outlines, and threatening to oppose a diflficult barrier in the way of the travellers. On the 26th of May, the travellers encamped at I^aramie's Fork, a clear and beautiful stream, rising in the west-southwest, maintaining an average width of twenty yards, and winding through broad meadows abounding in curr' its and gooseberries, and adorned with groves and clumps of trees. By an observation of Jupiter* s satellites, with a Dolland reflecting telescope, Captain Bonn< 57'w< We obser of wl bell, Comp in ski] been c About post a Willia Ham S becom For been 1 countT ing, b; tion of .vood-^ wheels was n( props travell steppei aridity unfit f( a freslL it is sc BriDit)? ot tbc Btmoepbcrc 45 Bonneville ascertained the longitude to be 102** 57' west of Greenwich. We will here step ahead of our narrative to observe, that about three years after thet'.ne of which we are treating, Mr. Robert Camp- bell, formerly of the Rcx:ky Mountain Fur Company, descended the Platte from this fork, in skin canoes, thus proving, what had always been discredited, that the river was navigable. About the same time, he built p. fort or trading post at Laramie's Fork, which he named Fort William, after his friend and partner, Mr. Wil- liam Sublette. Since that time, the Platte has become a highway for the fur traders. For some days past. Captain Bonneville had been made sensible of the great elevation of country into which he was gradually ascend- ing, by the effect of the dryness and rarefac- tion of the atmosphere upon his wagons. The ,vood-work shrunk ; the paint boxes of the wheels were continually working out, and it was necessary to support the spokes by stout props to prevent their falling asunder. The travellers were now entering one of those great steppes of he Far West, where the prevalent aridity of the atmosphere renders the country unfit for cultivation. In these regions there is a fresh sweet growth of grass in the spring, but it is scanty and short, and parches up in the 46 JSoinicviUe'0 BOveitturcd >i I course of the summer, lo that there is none for the hunters to set fire to in the autumn. It is a common observation, that " above the forks of the Platte the grass doe*; not burn." All attempts at agriculture and gardening in the neighborhood of Fort William have been at- tended with very little success. The grain and vegetables raised there have been scanty in quantity and poor in quality. The great elevation of these plains, and the dryness of the atmosphere, will tend to retain these im- mense regions in a state of pristine wildness. In the course of a day or two more, the trav- ellers entered that wild and broken tract of the Crow country called the Black Hills, and here their journey became toilsome in the extreme. Rugged steeps and deep ravines incessantly obstructed their pro^'ress, so that a great part of the day was spent in the painful toil of dig- ging through banks, filling up ravines, forcing the wagons up the most forbidding ascents, or swinging them with ropes down the face of dangerous precipices. The shoes of their horses were worn out, and their feet injured by the rugged and stony roads. The travel- lers were annoyed also by frequent but brief storms, which would come hurrying over the hills, or through the mountain defiles, rage with great fury for a short time, and then Indian JDo^b 47 . pass off, leaving everything calm and serene again. For several nights the camp had been in- fested by vagabond Indian dogs, prowling about in quest of food. They were about the size of a large pointer ; with ears short and erect, and a long bushy tail — altogether, they bore a striking resemblance to a wolf. These skulking visitors would keep about the pur- lieus of the camp until daylight ; when, on the first stir of life among the sleepers, they would scamper off until they reached some rising ground, where they would take their seats, and keep a sharp and hungry watch upon every movement. The moment the travellers were fairly on the march, and the camp was abandoned, these starveling hangers-on would hasten to the deserted fires to seize upon the half- picked bones, the offals and garbage that lay about ; and, having made a hasty meal, with many a snap and ruarl and growl, would follow leisurely on the trail of the caravan. Many attempts were made to coax or catch them, but in vain. Their quick and suspicious eyes caught the slightest sinister movement, and they turned and scampered off. At length one w^as taken. He was terribly alarmed, and crouched and trembled as if expecting instant death. Soothed, however, by caresses, he be- 48 JSonticv(IIc'0 B^vcnture0 . * jjan after a time to gather confidence and wag his tail, and at length was brought to follow close at the heels of his captors, still, however, darting around furtive and suspicious glances, and evincing a disposition to scamper off upon the least alarm. On the first of July the band of Crow war- riors again crossed their path. They came in vaunting and vain-glorious style ; displaying five Cheyenne scalps, the trophies of their vengeance. They were now bound home wards, to appease the manes of their comrade by these proofs that his death had been re- venged, and intended to have scalp-dances and other triumphant rejoicings. Captain Bonne- ville and his men, however, were by no means disposed to renew their confiding intimacy with these crafty savages, and above all, took care to avoid their pilfering caresses. They re- marked one precaution of the Crows with re- spect to their horses ; to protect their hoofs from the sharp and jagged rocks among which they had to pass, they had covered them with shoes of buffalo hide. The route of the travellers lay generally along the course of the Nebraska or Platte, but occasionally, where steep promontories ad- vanced to the margin of the stream, they were obliged to make inland circuits. One of these powDcr Ittvcr Aountaine 49 took them through a bold and stern country, bordered by a range of low mountains, running east and west. Everything around bore traces of some fearful convulsion of nature in times long past. Hit!ierto the various strata of rock had exhibited a gentle elevation towards the southwest, but here everything appeared to have been subverted, and thrown out of place. In many places there were heavy beds of white sandstone resting upon red. Immense strata of rocks j utted up into ?rags and cliffs ; and sometimes formed perpendicular walls and overhanging precipices. An air of sterility prevailed over these savage wastes. The val- leys were destitute of herbage, and scantily clothed with a stunted species of wormwood, generally known among traders and trappers by the name of sage. From an elevated point of their march through this region, the travel- lers caught a beautiful view of the Powder River Mountains away to the north, stretching along the very verge of the horizon, and seem- ing, from the snow with which they were mantled, to be a chain of small white clouds, connecting sky and earth. Though the thermometer at midday ranged from eighty to ninety, and even sometimes rose to niney-three degrees, yet occasional spots of snow were to be seen on the tops of the low VOL. I. — 4 'J :JJb, 50 3BonneviUe'0 BOventurce mountains, among which the travellers were journeying ; proofs of the great elevation of the whole region. The Nebraska, in its passage through the Black Hills, is confined to a much narrower channel than that through which it flows in the plains below ; but it is deeper and clearer, and rushes with a stronger current. The scenery, also, is more varied and beautiful. Sometimes it glides rapidly but smoothly through a picturesque valley, between wooded banks ; then, forcing its way into the bosom of rugged mountains, it rushes impetuously through narrow defiles, roaring and foaming down rocks and rapids, until it is again soothed to rest in some peaceful valley. On the 1 2th of July, Captain Bonneville abandoned the main stream of the Nebraska, which was continually shouldered by rugged promontories, and making a bend to the south- west, for a couple of days, part of the time over plains of loose sand, encamped on the 14th, on the banks of the Sweet Water, a stream about twenty yards in breadth, and four or five feet deep, flowing between low banks over a sandy soil, and forming oie of the forks or upper branches of the Nebraska. Up this stream they now shaped their course for several successive days, tending generally, Elevation ot tbc Countri? 51 > to the west. The soil was light and sandy ; the country much diversified. Frequently the plains were studded with isolated blocks of rock, sometimes in the shape of a half globe, and from three to four hundred feet high. These singular masses had occasionally a very imposing, and even sublime appearance, rising from the midst of a savage and lonely land- scape. As the travellers continued to advance, they l)ecame more and more sensible of the eleva- tion of the country. The hills around were more generally capped with snow. The men complained of cramps and colics, sore lips and mouths, and violent headaches. The wood- work of the wagons also shrank so much, that it was with difficulty the wheels were kept from falling to pieces. The country bordering upon the river was frequently gashed with deep ravines, or traversed by high bluffs, to avoid which, the travellers were obliged to make wide circuits through the plains. In the course of these, they came upon immense herds of buffalo, which kept scouring off in the van, like a retreating army. Among the motley retainers of the camp was Tom Cain, a raw Irishman, who officiated as cook, whose various blunders and expedients in his novel situation, and in the wild scenes 53 Xonncvi\le*6 Bdventures and wild kind of life into which he had sud- denly been thrown, had made him a kind of butt or droll of the camp. Tom, however, began to discover an ambition superior to his station ; and the conversation of the hunters, and their stories of their exploits, inspired him with a desire to elevate himself to the dignity of their order. The buffalo in such immense droves presented a tempting opportunity for making his first essay. He rode, in the line of march, all prepared for action : his powder- flask and shot-pouch knowingly slung at the pommel of his saddle, to be at hand ; his rifle balanced on his shoulder. While in this plight, a troop of buffalo came trotting by in great alarm. In an instant, Tom sprang from his horse and gave chase on foot. Finding they were leaving him behind, he levelled his rifle and pulled trigger. His shot produced no other effect than to increase the speed of the buffalo, and to frighten, his own horse, who took to his heels, and scampered off with all the ammuni- tion. Tom scampered after him, hallooing with might and main, and the wild horse and wild Irishman soon disappeared among the ravines of the prairie. Captain Bonneville, who was at the head of the line, and had seen the trans- action at a distance, detached a party in pur- suit of Tom. After a long interval they return* thougl looked they h; As < awkwa gers of a prairi hour, t him in At e; were se body, £ course. afterno( est Ton had fou aiid am of merr could n( pense : parentis rest of I 'l|ii| XTom Cain tbe Coo^ 53 returned, leading the frightened horse ; but though they had scoured the country, and looked out and shouted from every height, they had seen nothing of his rider. As Captain Bonneville knew Tom's utter awkwardness and inexperience, and the dan- gers of a bewildered Irishman in the midst of a prairie, he halted and encamped at an early hour, that there might be a regular hunt for him in the morning. At early dawn on the following day scouts were sent off in every direction, while the main body, after breakfast, proceeded slowly on its course. It was not until the middle of the afternoon that the hunters returned, with hon- est Tom mounted behind one of them. They had found him in a complete state of perplexity aiid amazement. His appearance caused shouts of merriment in the camp, — but Tom for once could not join in the mirth raised at his ex- pense : he was completely chapfallen, and ap- parently cured of the hunting mania for the rest of his life. Cbaptet ID* Magfoifiv-eot Scenery — Wind River Mountains — Treas- ury of Waters — A Stray Horse — An Indian Trail — Trout Streams— The Great Green River Valley — An Alarm — A Band of Trappers — Fontenelle, his In- formation — Sufferings of Thirst—Encampment on the Seeds-ke-dee — Strategy of Rival Traders — For- tification of the Camp— The Blackfeet — Banditti of the Mountains — Their Character and Habits. IT was on the 20th of July that Captain Bonneville first came in sight of the grand region of his hopes and anticipations, the Rocky Mountains. He had been making a bend to the south, to avoid some obstacles along the river, and had attained a high, rocky ridge, when a magnificent prospect burst upon his sight. To the west, rof^ the Wind River Mountains, with their blca/'hed and snowy summits towering into the clouds. These stretched far to the north-northwest, until they melted away into what appeared to be faint clouds, but which the experienced eyt» of the 54 veterai ruggec feet of a peril trappei To t immen: peared i orizor anothei Rocky whose of the s Wee thy cai mounta prise th can ima mi ratio River S fountai and me take th( miles their w£ and the The among l chain : Aaontflccnt teeners 55 veteran hunters of the party recogiiized for the rugged mountains of the Yellowstone ; at the feet of which, extended the wild Crow country, a perilous, though profitable region for the trapper. To the southwest, the eye ranged over an immense extent of wilderness, with what ap- peared to be a siiowy vapor resting upon its lorizon. This, however, was pointed out as another branch of the Great Chippewyan, or Rocky chain ; being the Eutaw Mountains, at whose basis the wandering tribes of hunters of the same name pitch their tents. We can imagine the enthusiasm of the wor- thy captain, when he beheld the vast and mountainous scene of his adventurous enter- prise thus suddenly unveiled before him. We can imagine with what feelings of awe and ad- miration he must have contemplated the Wind River Sierra, or bed of mountains ; that great fountain-head, from whose springs, and lakes, and melted snows, some of those mighty rivers take their rise, which wander over hundreds of miles of varied country and clime, and find their way to the opposite waves of the Atlantic and the Pacific. The Wind Piver Mountains are, in fact, among the most remarkable of the whole Rocky chain ; and would appear to be among the S6 Xonncvi\lc*B BDventurcd loftiest. They form, as it were, a great bed of mountains, about eighty miles in length, and from twenty to thirty in breadth ; with rugged peaks, covered with eternal snows, and deep, narrow valleys, full of springs, and brooks, and rock-bound lakes. From this great treasury of waters, issue forth limpid streams, which, augmenting as they descend, become main U'butaries of tl\e Missouri on the one side, and the Columbia on the other ; and give rise to . Seeds-ke-dee Agie, or Green River, the great C ■• orado of the West, that empties its current into the Gulf of California. The Wind River Mountains are notorious in hunters* and trappers' stories : their rugged de- files, and the rough tracts about their neigh- borhood, having been lurking-places for the predatory hordes of the mountains, and scenes of rough encounter with Crows and Blackfeet. It was to the west of these mountains, in the valley of the Seeds-ke-dee Agie, or Green River, that Captain Bonneville intended to make a halt, for the purpose of giving repose to his people and his horses, after their weary journeying; and of collecting information as to his future course. This Green River Valley and its intermediate neighborhood, as we have already observed, formed the main point of rendezvot.s, for the present year, of the rival fur cc civilize Severa remain tliey si place. On t their C( the Sw at a lit their aj be take The sec lookout some da ing in they dis which h borhood ingly ta] more vi^ the cam should b The t: elevation there wa: and the grees. ' to affect B Strai? tyotec S7 fur companies, and the motley populace, civilized and savage, connected with them. Several days of rugged travel, however, yet remained for the captain and his men, before they should encamp in this desired resting- place. On the 2ist of July, as they were pursuing their course through one of the meadows of the Sweet Water, they beheld a horse grazing at a little distance. He showed no alarm at their approach, but suffered himself quietly to be taken, evincing a perfect state of tanieiiess. The scouts of the party were instantly on the lookout for the owners of this animal ; lest some dangerous band of savages might be lurk- ing in the vicinity. After a narrow search, they discovered the trail of an Indian party, which had evidently passed through that neigh- borhood but recently. The horse wa-' accord- ingly taken possession of, as an estray ; but a more vigilant watch than usual was kept round the camps at nights, lest his former owners should be upon the prowl. The travellers had now attained so high an elevation, that on the 23d of July, at daybreak, there was considerable ice in the water-buckets, and the thermometer stood at twenty-two de- grees. The rarity of the atmosphere continued to affect the wood-work of the wagons, and 58 JSonncville'd BbvcWutcb 1 1 :i the wheels were incessantly fallinor to pieces. A remedy was at length devised. The tire of each wheel was taken off ; a band of wood was nailed round the exterior of the felloes, the tire was then made red hot, replaced round the wheel, and suddenly cooled with water. By this means, the whole was bound together with great compactness. The extreme elevation of these great steppes, which range along the feet of the Rocky Moun- tains, takes away from the seeming height of their peaks, which yield to few in the known world in point of altitude above the level of the sea. On the 24th, the travellers took final leave of the Sweet Water, and keeping westwardly, over a low and very rocky ridge, one of the most southern spurs of the Wind River Mountains, they encamped, after a march of seven hours and a half, on the banks of a small clear stream, running to the south, in which they caught a number of fine trout. The sight of these fish was hailed with pleas- ure, as a sign that they had reached the waters which flow into the Pacific ; for it is only on the western streams of the Rocky Mountains that trout are to be taken. The stream on which they had thus encamped, proved, in effect, to be tributary to the Seeds-ke-dee Agie. Orccn 1?lt»cr lllallec 59 or Green River, into which it flowed, at some distance to the south. Captain Bonneville now considered himself as having fairly passed the crest of the Rocky Mountains ; and felt some degree of exultation in being the first individual that had crossed, north of the settled provinces of Mexico, from the waters of the Atlantic to those of the Pa- cific, with wagon**. Mr. William Sublette, the enterprising leader of the Rocky Mountain Fur Company had, two or three years previously, reached the valley of the Wind River, which lies on the northeast of the mountains ; but had proceeded with them no farther. A vast valley now spread itself before the travellers, bounded on one side by the Wind River Mountains, and to the west, by a long range of high hills. This, Captain Bonneville was assured by a veteran hunter l^. his com- pany, was the great valley of the Seeds-ke-dee ; and the same informant would fain have per- suaded him> that a small stream, three feet deep, which lie came to on the 25th, was that river* The captain was convinced, however, that the stream was too insignificant to drain so wide a valley and the adjacent mountains : he encamped, therefore, at an early hour, on its borders, that he might take the whole of the next day to reach the main river ; which he 6o JSontievilIe'0 BOventuree m presumed to flow between him and the distant range of western hills. On the 26th of July, he commenced his march at an early hour, making directly across the valley, towards the hills in the west ; proceed- ing at as brisk a rate as the jaded condition of his horses would permit. About eleven o'clock in the morning, a great cloud of dust was descried in the rear, advancing directly on the trail of the party. The alarm was given ; they all came to a halt, and held a council of war. Some conjectured that the band of Indi- ans, whose trail they had discovered in the neighborhood of the stray horse, had been ly- ing in wait for them, *fi some secret fastness of the mountains ; and were about to attack them on the open plain, vvhere they would have no shelter. Preparations v/ere immediately made for defense ; and a scouting party sent off to reconnoitre. They soon came galloping back, making signals that all was well. The cloud of dust was made by a band of fifty or sixty mounted trappers, belonging to tlif^ American Fur Company, who soon came up, leading their pack-horses. They were headed by Mr. Fontenelle, an exp'^rienced leader, or "parti- san," as a chief of a party is called, in the technical language of the trappers. Mr. Fontenelle informed Captain Bonneville, that h trading rende7j for the the mo by appi in tha upon t just af that th been ob avoid f ther'^foi place tc was dej which \ River, v He hop horseba ling, by bility of his wag imparte( v/ith all Capta cumstan firm an much fa and har #0)itencUc a^^ ble parte 6t that he was on his way from the compatiy's trading post on the Yellowstone, to the yearly rendezvous, with reinforcements and supplies for their hunting and trading parties l^eyond the mountains ; and that he expected to meet, by appointment, with a band of free trapper- in that very neighborhood. He had f^^ upon the trail of Captain Bonneville's pa just after leaving the Nebraska ; and, fina, i^ that they had frightened off all the game, had been obliged to push on, by forced marches, to avoid famine ; both men and horses were, ther'^fore, much travel-worn ; but this was no place to halt ; the plain before them, he said, was destitute of grass and water, neither of which would be met with short of the Green River, which was yet at a considerable distance. He hoped, he added, as his party were all on horseback, to reach the river, with hard travel- ling, by nightfall ; but he doubted the possi- bility of Captain Bonneville's arrival there with his wagons before the day following. Having imparted this information, he pushed forward v/ith all speed. Captain Bonneville followed on as fast as cir- cumstances would permit. The ground was firm and gravelly ; but che horses were too much fatigued to move rapidly. After a long and harassing day's march, without pausing $h Ta ^/ IMAGE EVALUATION TEST TARGET (MT-3) 1.0 L;I28 ■so m ui 1.1 US 2.2 L° 12.0 11.25 HiotographJc Sciences Corporation 23 WIST MAM STRUT WnSTH,N.V. 14510 (71«) 972.4503 62 Xonncvi{\c*B BDventures W for a noontide meal, they were compelled, at nine o'clock at night, to encamp in an open plain, destitute of water or pasturage. On the following morning, the horses were turned loose at the peep of day ; to slake their thirst, if possible, from the dew collected on the sparse grass, here and there spnnging up among dry sand-banks. The soil of a great part of this Green River Valley is a whitish clay, into which the rain cannot penetrate, but which dries and cracks with the sun. In some places it produces a salt weed, and grass along the mar- gins of the streams ; but the wilder expanses of it are desolate and barren. It was not until noon that Captain Bonneville reached the banks of the Seeds-ke-dee, or Colorado of the West ; in the meantime, the sufferings of both men and horses had been excessive, and it was with almost frantic eagerness that t.hey hurried to allay their burning thirst in the limpid cur- rent of the river. Fontenelle and his party had not fared much better ; the chief part had managed to reach the river by nightfall, but were nearly knocked up by the exertion : the horses of others sank under them, and they were obliged to pass the night upon the road. On the following morning, July 27th, Fon- tenelle moved his camp across the river ; while Capts tance meadi thejx and U mouni spirit plain ] The boaste brief, 1 Fontet aged t dians \ by offe the end somew ters, or curely, over tc some n petitor, for the Fonten deavor As time in horses and as StintcQit of tbc fur ^rade 63 Captain Bonneville proceeded some little dis- tance below, where there was a small but fresh meadow, yielding abundant pasturage. Here the poor jaded horses were turned out to graze, and take their rest : the weary journey up the mountains had worn them down in flesh and spirit ; but this last march across the thirsty plain had nearly finished them. The captain had here the first taste of the boasted strategy of the fur trade. During his brief, but social encampment, in company with Fontenelle, that experienced trapper had man- aged to win over a number of Delaware In- dians whom the captain had brought with him, by offering them four hundred dollars each, for the ensuing autumnal hunt. The captain was somewhat astonished when he saw these hun- ters, on whose services he had calculated se- curely, suddenly pack up their traps, and go over to the rival camp. That he might, in some measure, however, be even with his com- petitor, he dispatched two scouts to look out for the band of free trappers who were to meet Fontenelle in this neighborhood, and to en- deavor to bring them to his camp. As it would be necessary to remain some time in this neighborhood, that both men and horses might repose and recruit their strength ; and as it was a region full of danger, Captain 64 XonnevHlc*B Bdventurea .f' ' Bonneville proceeded to fortify his camp with breastworks of logs and pickets. These precautions were, at that time, pecu- liarly necessary, from the bands of Blaclcfeet Indians which were roving about the neighbor- hood. These savages are the most dangerous banditti of the mountains, and the inveterate foe of the trappers. They are Ishmaelites of the first order ; always with weapon in hand, ready for action. The young braver of the tribe, who are destitute of property, go to war for booty ; to gain horses, and acquire the means of setting up a lodge, supporting a family, and entitling themselves to a seat in the public councils. The veteran warriors fight merely for the love of the thing, and the consequence which success gives them among their people. They are capital horsemen, and ^"♦^ generally well mounted on short, stout hors similar to the prairie ponies, to be met with at St. Louis. When on a war party, however, they go on foot, to enable them to skulk through the country with greater sccre':y ; to keep in thick- ets and ravines, and use more adroit subter- fuges and stratagems. Their mode of warfare is entirely by ambush, surprise, and sudden assaults in the night time. If they succeed in causing a panic, they dash forward with a head- JSIaclitreet f nMans 65 long fury : if the enemy is on the alert, and shows no signs of fear, they become wary and deliberate in their movements. Some of them are armed in the primitive style, with bows and arrows ; the greater part have American fusees, made after the fashion of those of the Hudson's Bay Company. These they procure at the trading post of the Ameri- can Fur Company, on Marias River, where they traffic their peltries for arms, ammuni- tion, clothing, and trinkets. They are ex- tremely fond of spirituous liquors and tobacco ; for which nuisances they are ready to ex- change, not merely their guns and horses, but even their wives and daughters. As they are a treacherous race, and have cherished a lurk- ing hostility to the "whites ever since one of their tribe was killed by Mr. I^ewis, the associate of General Clarke, in his exploring expedition across the Rocky Mountains, the American Fur Company is obliged constantly to keep at that post a garrison of sixty or seventy men. Under the general name of Blackfeet, are comprehended several tribes : such as the Sur- cies, the Peagans, the Blood Indians, and the Gros Ventres of the Prairies : who roam about the southern branches of the Yellowstone and Missouri rivers, together with some other tribes further north, \OU, I.— J I - ■ H ■J 66 3SonnevtUe'0 a&vcnti«rc0 I : lu 1^ y The bands infesting the Wind River Moun- tains, and the country adjacent, at the time of which we are treating, were Gros Ventres 0/ the Prairies^ which are not to be confounded with Gros Ventres of the Missouri^ who keep about the lower part of that river, and are friendly to the men. This hostile band keeps about the head- waters of the Missouri, and numbers about nine hundred fighting men. Once in the course of two or three years they abandon their usual abodes, and make a visit to the Arapahoes of the Arkansas. Their route lies either through the Crow country, and the Black Hills, or through the lands of the Nez Percys, Flatheads, Bannacks, and Shoshonies. As they enjoy their favorite state of hostility with all these tribes, their expeditions are prone to be con- ducted in the most lawless and predatory style ; nor do they hesitate to extend their maraudings to any party of white men they meet with ; following their trails ; hovering about their camps; waylaying and dogging the caravans of the free traders, and murdering the solitary trapper. The consequences are, frequent and desperate fights between them and the " moun- taineers," in the wild defiles and fastnesses of the Rocky Mountains. The band in question was, at this time, on asucftteet InDians 67 their way homeward from one of their custom- ary visits to the Arapahoes ; and in the ensuing chapter, we shall treat of some bloody encoun- ters between them and the trappers, which had taken place just before the arrival of Captain Bonneville among the mountains. on w ^ 1 Cbapter M • Sublette and his Band— Robert Cambell— Mr. Wyeth and a Band of'Down-Easters" — ^Yankee Enter- prise — Fitzpatrick — His Adventure with the Black- feet— A Rendezvous of Mountaineers— The Battle of Pierre's Hole — An Indian Ambuscade — SuMette's Return. LEAVING Captain Bonneville and his band ensconced within their fortified camp in the Green River Valley, we shall step back and accompany a party of the Rocky Mountain Fur Company in its progress, with supplies from St. I^ouis, to the annual rendez- vous at Pierre's Hole. This party consisted of sixty men, well mounted, and conducting a line of pack-horses. They were commanded by Captain William Sublette, a partner in the company, and one of the most active, intrepid, and renowned leaders in this half-military kind of service. He was accompanied by his associ- ate in business, and tried companion in danger, Mr. Robert Campbell, one of the pioneers of 68 • the tri mand( greate As route exped tains, easterj who, ^ spirit way ir they ^ had b commj Bostor idea, t be esta nected invests posed, numbc had m thing brave undisi in the ♦In neousli captaii '* 2>own«JEa0ter0 »» 69 the trade beyond the mountains, who had com- manded trapping parties there in times of the greatest peril. As these worthy compeers were on their route to the frontier, they fell in with another expedition, likewise on its way to the moun- tains. This was a party of regular " Down- easters," that is to say, people of New England, who, with the all-penetrating and all-pervading spirit of their race, were now pushing their way into a new field of enterprise, with which they were totally unacquainted. The party had been fitted out, and was maintained and commanded by Mr. Nathaniel J. Wyeth, of Boston.* This gentleman had conceived an idea, that a profitable fishery for salmon might be established on the Columbia River, and con- nected with the fur trade. He had, accordingly, invested capital in goods, calculated, as he sup- posed, for the Indian trade, and had enlisted a number of Eastern men in his employ, \ I^o had never been in the Far West, nor knew any- thing of the wilderness. With these, he was bravely steering his way across the continent, undismaj'ed by danger, difficulty, or distance, in the same way that a New England coaster * In the former editions of this work we have erro- neously given this enterprising individual the title of captain. 'I TO JSonnevfUe'd Bdventure0 ■ ' i < ;•.: '■■If and his neighbors will coolly launch forth on a voyage to the Black Sea, or a whaling cruise to the Pacific. With all their national aptitude at expedient and resource, Wyeth and his men felt them- selves completely at a loss when they reached the frontier, and found that the wilderness re- quired experience and habitudes of which they were totally deficient. Not one of the party, excepting the leader, had ever seen an Indian or handled a rifle ; they were without guide or interpreter, and totally unacquainted with ** wood craft," and the modes of making their way among savage hordes, and subsisting them- selves during long marches over wild moun- tains and barren plains. In this predicament. Captain Sublette found them, in a manner becalmed, or rather run aground, at the little frontier town of Inde- pendence, in Missouri, and kindly took them in tow. The two parties travelled amicably together ; the frontier men of Sublette's party gave their Yankee comrades some lessons in hunting, and some insight into the art and mystery of dealing with the Indians, and they all arrived without accident at the upper branches of the Nebraska or Platte River. In the course of their march, Mr. Fitzpatrick, the partner of the company who was resident at that from tl them, i in com] Sweet ^ one foi horse, ] to mak that he before t Fitzp mounta files. 2 up the < horsem* reconno detachn of frien setting full spe his per upon h other t( tains, a most di himself off, whe again p only es Ar. yitspatrfclt 71 at that time beyond the mountains, came down from the rendezvous at Pierre's Hole to meet them, and hurry them forward. He travelled in company with them until they reached the Sweet Water ; then taking a couple of horses, one for the saddle, and the other as a pack- horse, he started off express for Pierre's Hole, to make arrangements against their arrival, that he might commence his hunting campaign before the rival company. Fitzpatrick was a hardy and experienced mountaineer, and knew all the passes and de- files. As he was pursuing his lonely course up the Green River Valley, he descried several horsemen at a distance, and came to a halt to reconnoitre. He supposed them to be some detachment from the rendezvous, or a party of friendly Indians. They perceived him, and setting up the war-whoop, dashed forward at full speed : he saw at once his mistake and his peril — they were Blackfeet. Springing upon his fleetest horse, and abandoning the other to the enemy, he made for the moun- tains, and succeeded in escaping up one of the most dangerous defiles. Here he concealed himself until he thought the Indians had gone off, when he returned into the valley. He was again pursued, lost his remaining horse, and only escaped by scrambling up among the ■ 11 ^11 I ■ .11 72 JSonnei^ne*0 S^veltturc0 *< s .. cliffs. For several days he remained lurking among rocks and precipices, and almost fam- ished, having but one remaining charge in his rifle, which he kept for self-defense. In the meantime, Sublette and Campbell, with their fellow-traveller, Wyeth, had pursued their march unmolested, and arrived in the Green River Valley, totally unconscious that there was any lurking enemy at hand. They had encamped one night on the banks of a small stream, which came down from the Wind River Mountains, when about midnight, a band of Indians burst upon their camp, with horrible yells and whoops, and a discharge of guns and arrows. Happily no other harm was done than wounding one mule, and caus- ing several horses to break loose from their pickets. The camp was instantly in arms ; but the Indians retreated with j'ells of exulta- tion, carrying off several of the horses, under covert of the night. This was somewhat of a disagreeable fore- taste of mountain life to some of Wyeth' s band, accustomed only to the regular and peaceful life of New England ; nor was it altogether to the taste of Captain Sublette's men, who were chiefly Creoles and townsmen from St. Louis. They continued their march the next morning, keeping scouts ahead and upon their flanks, and ai Pierre'! The reach in He hac been re ness wa fallen ii made tl was a t he made breed I several < starved his ener as to m ing on h difficult; so emac nized. The thirty boundec broken three lo which tent of ( A fine springs, pierre'0 Dole 79 and arrived without further molestation at Pierre's Hole. The first inquiry of Captain Sublette, on reaching the rendezvous, was for Fitzpatrick. He had not arrived, nor had any intelligence been received concerning him. Great uneasi- ness was now entertained, lest he should have fallen into the hands of the Blackfeet, who had made the midnight attack upon the camp. It was a matter of general joy, therefore, when he made his appearance, conducted by two half- breed Iroquois hunters. He had lurked for several days among the mountains, until almost starved ; at length he escaped the vigilance of his enemies in the night, and was so fortunate as to meet the two Iroquois hunters, who, be- ing on horseback, conveyed him without further difficulty to the rendezvous. He arrived there so emaciated that he could scarcely be recog- nized. The valley called Pierre's Hole is about thirty miles in length and fifteen in width, bounded to the west and south by low and broken ridges, and ov^erlooked to the east by three lofty mountains, called the three Tetons, which domineer as landmarks over a vast ex- tent of country. A fine stream, fed by rivulets and mountain springs, pours through the valley towards the 'Mi 74 XonncviU€*B %bvcntuxc6 ■.V : >Ai 1 I 1 1 '']^, north, dividing it into nearly equal parts. The meadows on its borders are broad and extensive, covered with willow and cotton-wood trees, so closely interlocked and matted together, as to be nearly impassable. In this valley was congregated the motley populace connected with the fur trade. Here the two rival companies had their encamp- ments, with their retainers of all kinds ; traders, trappers, hunters, and half-breeds, assembled from all quarters, awaiting their yearly sup- plies, and their orders to start off in new direc- tions. Here, also, the savage tribes connected with the trade, the Nez Percys or Chopunnish Indians, and Flatheads, had pitched their lodgings beside the streams, and with their squaws awaited the distribution of goods and finery. There was, moreover, a band of fifteen free trappers, commanded by a gallant leader from Arkansas, named Sinclair, who held their encampment a little apart from the rest. Such was the wild and heterogeneous assemblage, amounting to several hundred men, civilized and savage, distributed in tents and lodges '.A the several camps. The arrival of Captain vSublette with supplies put the Rocky Mountain Fur Company in full activity. The wares and merchandise were quickly opened, and as quickly disposed of to i s SuMette'0 J9ri0aDe n trappers and Indians ; the usual excitement and revelry took place, after which, all hands began to disperse to their several destinations. On the 17th of July, a small brigade of four- teen trappers, led by Milton Sublette, brother of the captain, set out with the intention of proceeding to the southwest. They were ac- companied by Sinclair and his fifteen free trap- pers ; Wyeth, also, and his New England band of beaver hunters and salmon fishers, now dwindled down to eleven, took this opportunity to prosecute their cruise in the wilderness, accompanied with such experienced pilots. On the first day, they proceeded about eight miles to the southeast, and encamped for the night, still in the valley of Pierre's Hole. On the following morning, just as they were rais- ing their camp, they observed a long line of people pouring down a defile of the mountains. They at first supposed them to be Fontenelle and his party, whose arrival had been daily expected. Wyeth, however, reconnoitered them with a spy-glass, and soon perceived they were Indians. They were divided into two parties, forming, in the whole, about one hundred and fifty persons, men, women, and children. Som*^ were on horseback, fantasti- cally painted and arrayed, with scarlet blankets fluttering in the wind. The greater part, how- Ma :W <8 ■II # Y^> JSonncville'd Bdvcnturce ever, were on foot. They had perceived the trappers before they were themselves dis- covered, and came down yelling and whooping into the plain. On nearer approach, they were ascertained to be Blackfeet. One of the trappers of Sublette's brigade, a half-breed, named Antoine Godin, now mounted his horse, and rode forth as if to hold a conference. He was the son of an Iroquois hunter, who had been cruelly murdered by the Blackfeet at a small stream below the moun- tains, which still bears his name. In company with Antoine rode forth a Flathead Indian, whose once powerful tribe had been completely broken down in their wars with the Blackfeet. Both of them, therefore, cherished the most vengeful hostility against these marauders of the mountains. The Blackfeet came to a halt. One of the chiefs advanced singly and un- armed, bearing the pipe of peace. This over- ture was certainly pacific ; but Antoine and the Flathead were predisposed to hostility, and pretended to consider it a treacherous move- ment. ' ' Is your piece charged ? ' ' said Antoine, to his red companion. "It is." " Then cock it, and follow me.** ^ They met the Blackfoot chief half-way, who exte gras] (< Tl thaE off hi ment the Ci after themj willow vines, the w a brea the be mishe Tht front, As to caster this sc the VL fightii how t skilful camp breast his m< of the Encc ter witb tbe JSIacMeet 77 extended his hand in friendship. Antoine grasped it. ** Fire ! " cried he. The Flathead levelled his piece, and brought the Blackfoot to the ground. Antoine snatched oflf his scarlet blanket, which was richly orna- mented, and galloped off with it as a trophy to the camp, the bullets of the enemy whistling after him. The Indians immediately threw themselves into the edge of a swamp, among willows and cotton-wood trees, interwoven with vines. Here they began to fortify themselves ; the women digging a trench, and throwing up a breastwork of logs and branches, deep hid in the bosom of the wood, while the warriors skir- mished at the edge to keep the trappers at bay. The latter took their station in a ravine in front, whence they kept up a scattering fire. As to Wyeth, and his little band of "Down- easters," they were perfectly astounded by this second specimen of life in the wilderness ; the men, being especially unused to bush- fighting and the use of the rifle, were at a loss how to proceed. Wyeth, however, acted as a skilful commander. He got all his horses into camp and secured them ; then, making a breastwork of his packs of goods, he charged his men to remain in garrison, and not stir out of their fort. For himself, he mingled with * ^\i.^ \ H ■ * ■ i Itl 'i 78 JSonnei?UIc*0 Bdt^enturea the other leaders, determined to take his share in the conflict. In the meantime, an express had been sent off to the rendezvous for reinforcements. Cap- tain Sublette, and his associate, Campbell, were at their camp when the express came galloping across the plain, waving his cap, and giving the alarm : " Blackfeet ! Blackfeet ! a fight in the upper part of the valley ! — to arms ! to arms ! ' ' The alarm was passed from camp to camp. It was a common cause. Every one turned out with horse and rifle. The Nez Perc6s and Flatheads joined. As fast as horsemen could arm and mount they galloped off ; the valley was soon alive with white men and red men scouring at full speed. Sublette ordered his men to keep to the camp, being recruits* from St. Louis, and un- used to Indian warfare. He and his friend Campbell prepared for action. Throwing off their coats, rolling up their sleeves, and arm- ing themselves with pistols and rifles, they mounted their horses and dashed forward among the first. As they rode along, they made their wills in soldier-like style ; each stating how his effects should be disposed of in case of his death, and appointing the other his executor. Th< brigac to def the V horser They complt tangle( dren 1 trappe: swamp the BU saries, breed \ Whe penetra hung b place, i peradoc allies, regarde frightfu from hii into th( to accoi OUS W0( and tol< who kn This do ui'i- 3Btt0b«fi0btfn0 79 The Blackfeet warriors had supposed the brigade of Milton Sublette all the foe they had to deal with, and were astonished to behold the whole valley suddenly swarming with horsemen, galloping to the field of action. They withdrew into their fort, which was completely hid from sight in the dark and tangled wood. Most of their women and chil- dren had retreated to the mountains. The trappers now sallied forth and approached the swamp, firing into the thickets at random ; the Blackfeet had a better sight at their adver- saries, who were in the open field, and a half- breed was wounded in the shoulder. When Captain Sublette arrived, he urged to penetrate the swamp and storm the fort, but all hung back in awe of the dismal horrors of the place, and the danger of attacking such des- peradoes in their savage den. The very Indian allies, though accustomed to bush-fighting, regarded it as almost impenetrable, and full of frightful danger. Sublette was not to be turned from his purpose, but offered to lead the way into the swamp. Campbell stepped forward to accompany him. Before entering the peril- ous wood, Sublette took his brothers aside, and told them that in case he fell, Campbell, who knew his will, was to be his executor. This done, he grasped his rifle and pushed into 80 J8onnevllle'0 Bdvetiturcd ■ 1 ■ .1 » the thickets, followed by Campbell. Sinclair, the partisan from Arkansas, was at the edge of the wood with his brother and a few of his men. Excited by the gallant example of the two friends, he pressed forward to share their dangers. The swamp was produced by the labors of the beaver, which, by damming up a stream, had inundated a portion of the valley. The place was all overgrown with woods and thick- ets, so closely matted and entangled that it was impossible to see ten paces ahead, and the three associates in peril had to crawl along, one after another, making their way by putting the branches and vines aside ; but doing it with caution, lest they should attract the eye of some lurking marksman. They took the lead by turns, each advancing about twenty yards at a time, and now and then hallooing to their men to follow. Some of the latter gradually entered the swamp, and followed a little dis- tance in the rear. They had now reached a more open part of the wood, and had glimpses of the rude fortress from between the trees. It was a mere breast- work, as we have said, of logs and branches, with blankets, buffalo robes, and the leathern covers of lodges, extended round the top as a screen. The movements of the leaders, as they the ; wasi aside on th he to to soi the s\ Sul reconi peepir his ri] ball si was r pointe( place,' fair ch the wo der, ai thougl other ascerta was no faint tl him in thicket wound< A br taineers VOL. attack on tbe 1n^l VOt. I.- . Ml 83 XonncviWB Bdventures ,M? ■■n from the fort. Unluckily, the trappers and their allies, in searching for the fort, had got scattered, so that Wyeth, and a number of Nez Percds, approached the fort on the northwest side, while others did the same on the opposite quarter. A cross-fire thus took place, which occasionally did mischief to friends as well as foes. An Indian was shot down, close to Wyeth, by a ball which, he was convinced, had been sped from the rifle of a trapper on the other side of the fort. The number of whites and their Indian allies, had by this time so much increased by arrivals from the rendezvous, that the Blackfeet were completely overmatched. They kept doggedly in their fort, however, making no offer of sur- render. An occasional firing into the breast- work was kept up during the day. Now and then, one of the Indian allies, in bravado, would rush up to the fort, fire over the ram- parts, tear off a buffalo robe or a scarlet blanket, and return with it in triumph to his comrades. Most of the savage garrison that fell, however, were killed in the first part of the attack. At one time it was resolved to *set fire to the fort ; and the squaws belonging to the allies were employed to collect combustibles. This, however, was abandoned ; the Nez Percys being unwilling to destroy, the robes and blan- kets, they f The taunt the pi Blackl and b when 1 die wit burn I and yc soon h lodges soon b hearts This times By the chief vi lodges ment at one nov rendezv upon th As nigl swamp, wood, turned I i» i Speecb of JSIacfifeet Cbfef 83 kets, and other spoils of the enemy, which they felt sure would fall into their hands. The Indians, when fighting, are prone to taunt and revile each other. During one of the pauses of the battle, the voice of the Blackfeet chief was heard. *'So long," said he, "as we had powder and ball, we fought you in the open field : when those were spent, we retreated here to die with our women and children. You may burn us in our fort ; but, stay by our ashes, and you who are so hungry for fighting, will soon have enough. There are four hundred lodges of our brethren at hand. They will soon be here — their arms are strong — their hearts are big — they will avenge us ! " This speech was translated two or three times by Nez Perc6 and Creole interpreters. By the time it was rendered into English, the chief was made to say, that four hundred lodges of his tribe were attacking the encamp- ment at the other end of the valley. Every one now was for hurrying to the defense of the rendezvous. A party was left to keep watch upon the fort ; the rest galloped off to the camp. As night came on, the trappers drew out of the swamp, and remained about the skirts of the wood. By morning, their companions re- turned from the rendezvous, with the report I ^n - ! ■ J9onnevtlle*d Bdventuree that all was safe. As the day opened, they ventured within the swamp and approached the fort. All was silent. They advanced up to it without opposition. They entered : it had been abandoned in the night, and the Blackfeet had effected their retreat, carrying off their wounded on litters made of branches, leaving bloody traces on the herbage. The bodies of ten Indians were found within the fort : among them the one shot in the eye by Sublette. The Blackfeet afterwards reported that they had lost twenty-six warriors in this battle. Thirty-two horses were likewise found killed ; among them were some of those recently carried off from Sublette's party, in the night ; which showed that these were the very savages that had attacked him. They proved to be an advanced party of the main body of Blackfeet, which had been upon the trail of Sublette's party. Five white men and one half-breed were killed, and several wounded. Seven of the Nez Percys were also killed, and six wounded. They had an old chief, who was reputed as invulnerable. In the course of the action he was hit by a spent ball, and threw up blood; but his skin was unbroken. His people were now fully convinced that he was proof against powder and ball. A striking circumstance is related as having occurr some I were a they b< and fe; surpris the hai they sa Either their a] silent a yell, on pers CO upon tl abandor credited the batt without him. I evta to to believ After Sublette Wyeth's days at of Blac nothing put thei their rou Devotion ot a Squaw 85 occurred the morning after the battle. As some of the trappers and their Indian allies were approaching the fort, through the woods, they beheld an Indian woman, of noble form and features, leaning against a tree. Their surprise at her lingering here alone, to fall into the hands of her enemies, was dispelled, when they saw the corpse of a warrior at her feet. Either she was so lost in grief as not to perceive their approach, or a proud spirit kept her silent and motionless. The Indians set up a yell, on discovering her, and before the trap- pers could interfere, her mangled body fell upon the corpse which she had refused to abandon. We have heard the anecdote dis- credited by one of the leaders who had been in the battle, but the fact may have taken place without his seeing it, and been concealed from him. It is an instance of female devotion, evca to the death, which we are well disposed to believe and to record. After the battle, the brigade of Milton Sublette, together with the free trappers, and Wyeth's New England band, remained some days at the rendezvous, to see if the main body of Blackfeet intended to make an attack ; nothing of the kind occurring, they once'more put themselves in motion, and proceeded on their route towards the southwest. 86 J8onnevtUe'0 BDvcnturcs :: Captain Sublette having distril)iited his sup- plies, had intended to set off on his return to St. Louis, taking with him the peltries col- lected from the trappers and Indians. His wound, however, obliged him to postpone his departure. Several who were to have accom- panied him, became impatient of this delay. Among these was a young Bostonian, Mr. Joseph More, one of the followers of Mr. Wyeth, who had seen enough of mountain life and savage warfare, and was eager to return to 'the abodes of civilization. He and six others, among whom were a Mr. Foy, of Mississippi, Mr. Alfred K. Stephens, of St. Louis, and two grandsons of the celebrated Daniel Boon, set out together, in advance of Sublette's party, thinking they would make their own way through the mountains. It was just fi^-e days after the battle of the swamp, that these seven companions were mak- ing their way through Jackson's Hole, a valley not far from the three Tetons, when, as they were descending a hill, a party of Blackfeet that lay in ambush started up with terrific yells. The horse of the yor.ng Bostoniar. . ;, was in front, wheeled round with ailiight, and threw' his unskilled rider. The young man scrambled up the side of the hill, but, unac- custo.'ed to such wild scenes, lost his presence of jiiii edge < and sl( fled on and St they hi '•ir'' It Fo>' w vcivly afterwa cajup c this ne\ as he c return t As the; laden differei the wa}' of Black frontier them w months woodlan long ca nearly hj in a slit hunting mounted a hill oft V 1 Itcturn to ^t. loufe •7 of mind, and stood, as if paralysed on the edge of a bank, until the Bla< K'feet came up and slew him on the spot. His comrades had fled on the first alarm ; but two of them, hoy and Stephens, seeing his danger, pau d when they had got half-way up the hill, turnc ' back, (lis:r )t'^ted, and hastened to his assistance. Fos' w.'S instantly killed. Stephens was se- vcicly wounded, but escaped, to die five df s afterwards. The survivors returned to the camp of Captain Sublette, bringing tidings of this new disaster. That hardy leader, as soon as he could bear the journey, set out on his return to St. I/^uis, accompanied by Campbell. As they had a number of pack-horses richly laden with peltries to convoy, they chose a different route through the mountains, out of the way, as they hoped, of the lurking bands of Blackfe,et. They succeeded in making the frontier in safety. We remember to have seen them with their band, about two or three months afterwards, passing through a skirt of woodland in the upper part of Missouri. Their long cavalcade stretched in single file for nearly half a mile. Sublette still wore his arm in a sling. The mountaineers in their rude hunting drp«ses» armed with rifles, and roughly mounted, and leading their pack-horses down a hill of the forest, leaked like banditti return- 8S JSonneviKe'd BDt'cnturcx) ing with plunder. On the top of some of the packs were perched several half-breed children, perfect little imps, with wild black eyes glar- ing from among elf locks. These, I was told, were .hildrcn of the trappers : pledges of love from tneir squaw spouses in the wilderness. Retreat ger— < Trapp ments Their Good < a Recc THI ! the vall where t The wl fighting late disa and chil bold anc ture ; bi ings, th< Fontene Green B pers, th< Cbapter IDf f * Retreat of the Blackfeet — Fontenelle*s Camp in Dan- ger — Captain Bonneville and the Blackfeet — Free Trappers — Their Character, Habits, Dress, Equip- ments, Horses — Game Fellows of the Mountains — Their Visit to the Camp— Good Fellowship and Good Cheer — A Carouse — A Swagger, a Brawl, and a Reconciliation. THE Blackfeet warriors, when they effected their midnight retreat from their wild fastness in Pierre's Hole, fell back into the valley of the Seeds-ke-dee, or Green River, where they joined the main body of their band. The whole force amounted to several hundred fighting men, gloomy and exasperated by their late disaster. They had with them their wives and children, which incapacitated them for any bold and extensive enterprise of a warlike na- ture ; but when, in the course of their wander- ings, they came in sight of the encampment of Fontenelle, who had moved some distance up Green River Valley in search of the free trap- pers, they put up tremendous war-cries, and «9 go XonncvilWe Bdventurcd K r advanced fiercely as if to attack it. Second thoughts caused them to moderate their fury. They recollected the severe lesson just received, and could not but remark the strength of Fon- tenelle's position, which had been chosen with great judgment. A forma! talk ensued. The Black feet said nothing of the late battle, of which Fontenelle had as yet received no accounts ; the latter, however, knew the hostile and perfidious na- ture of these savages, and took care to inform them of the encampment of Captain Bonne- ville, that they might know there were more white men in the neighborhood. The conference ended, Fontenelle sent a Delaware Indian of his party to conduct fif- teen of the Black feet to the camp of Captain Bonneville. There were at that time two Crow Indians in the captain's camp, who had re- cently arrived there. They looked with dis- may at this deputation from their implacable enemies, and gave the captain a terrible char- acter of them, assuring him that the best thing he could possibly do, was to put those Black- feet deputies to death on the spot. The cap- tain, however, who had heard nothing of the conflict at Pierre's Hole, declined all compli- ance with this sage counsel. He treated the grim warriors with his usual urbanity. They passc' doubt milita enem bemc to rep Th( had s( pers, them searct thies meani necess enlist have ] weapoi These every the sei ing ai guard ; the cai The class ; little ni tion of come £ they p] free TTrappere 9> passed some little time at the camp, saw, no doubt, that everything was conducted with military skill and vigilance, and that such an enemy was not to be easily surprised, lior to be molested with impunity, and then departed, to report all they had seen to their comrades. The two scouts which Captain Bonneville had sent out to seek for the band of free trap- pers, expected by Fontenelle, and to invite them to his camp, had been successful in their search, and on the 12th of August those wor- thies made their appearance. To explain the meaning of the appellation, free trapper, it is necessary to state the terms on which the men enlist in the service of the fur companies. Some have regular wages, and are furnished with weapons, horses, traps, and other requisites. These are under command, and bound to do every duty required of them connected with the service ; such as hunting, trapping, load- ing and unloading the horses, mounting guard ; and, in short, all the drudgery of the camp. These are the hired trappers. The free trappers are a more independent class ; and in describing them, we shall do little more than transcribe the graphic descrip- tion of them by Captain Bonneville. "They come and go," says he, '* when and where they please ; provide their own horses, arms,. : I k -I ♦M 92 Xonncvillc*B BDventures and other equipments ; trap and trade on their own account, and dispose of their skins and peltries to the highest bidder. Sometimes, in a dangerous hunting ground, they attach them- selves to the camp of some trader for protec- tion. Here they come under some restrictions ; they have to conform to the ordinary rules for trapping, and to submit to such restraints, and to take part in such general duties, as are es- tablished for the good order and safety of the camp. In return for this protection, and for their camp keeping, they are bound to dispose of all the beaver they take, to the trader who commands the camp, at a certain rate per skin ; or, should they prefer seeking a market else- where, they are to make him an allowance, of from thirty to forty dollars for the whole hunt. There is an inferior order, who, either from prudence or poverty, come to these dangerous hunting grounds without horses or accoutre- ments, and are furnished by the traders. These, like the hired trappers, are bound to exert themselves to the utmost in taking beaver, which, without skinning, they render in at the trader's lodge, where a stipulated price for each is placed to their credit. These, though generally included in the generic name of free trappers, have the more specific title of skin trappers. V ri TTrappere' Bquipments 93 The wandering whites who mingle for any length of time with the savages, have invaria- bly a proneness to adopt savage habitudes ; but none more so than the free trappers. It is a matter of vanity and ambition with them to discard everything that may bear the stamp of civilized life, and to adopt tlie manners, habits, dress, gesture, and even walk of the Indian. You cannot pay a free trapper a greater com- pliment, than to persuade him you have mis- taken him for an Indian brave ; and, in truth, the counterfeit is complete. His hair, suffered to attain to a great length, is carefully combed out, and either left to fall carelessly over his shoulders, or plaited neatly and tied up in otter skins, or parti-colored ribbons. A hunting- shirt of ruffled calico of bright dyes, or of ornamented leather, falls to his knees ; below which, curiously fashioned leggins, orna- mented with vStrings, fringes, and a profusion of hawks' bells, reach to a cosily pair of moc- casins of the finest Indian fabric, richly em- broidered with beads. A blanket of scarlet, or some other bright color, hangs from his shoulders, and is girt round his waist with a red sash, in which he bestows his pistols, knife, and the stem of his Indian pipe, preparations for peace or war. His gun is lavishly deco- ated with brass tacks and vermilion, and pro- I i 54 JSonneviIIe'0 BDventurea i I vided with a fringed cover, occasfonally of buckskin, ornamented here and there with a feather. His horse, the noble minister to the pride, pleasure, and profit of the mountaineer, is selected for his speed and spirit, and prancing gait, and holds a place in his estimation second only to himself. He shares largely of his bounty, and of his pride and pomp of trapping. He is caparisoned in the most dashing and fantastic style ; the bridles and crupper are weightily embossed with beads and cockades ; and head, mane, and tail are interwoven with abundance of eagles' plumes, which flutter in the wind. To complete this grotesque equip- ment, the proud animal is bestreaked and bespotted with vermilion, or with white clay, whichever presents the most glaring contrast to his real color. Such is the account given by Captain Bon- neville of these rangers of the wilderness, and their appearance at the camp was strikingly characteristic. They came dashing forward at full speed, firing their fusees, and yelling in Indian style. Their dark sunburnt faces, and long flowing hair, their leggins, flaps, moccasins, and richly-dyed blankets, and their painted horses gaudily caparisoned, gave them so much the air and appearance of Indians, that it was difficult to purstiade one's self that they up in Cap the g2 tains, and oi them, gart s] finest garfon the da it was Thep: trappe: among men u or por cilious ness. the ho among seen, a advent tains. Inth returns delight acquaii lowing \ "ISiM CavaIicr0 of tbe Aountain^ 95 they were white men, and had been brought up in civilized life. Captain Bonneville, who was delighted with the game look of these cavaliers of the moun- tains, welcomed them heartily to his camp, and ordered a free allowance of grog to regale them, which soon put them in the most brag- gart spirit. They pronounced the captain the finest fellow in the world, and his men all bons garfons, jovial lads, and swore they would pass the day with them. They did so ; and a day it was, of boast, swagger, and rodomontade. The prime bullies and braves among the free trappers had each his circle of novices, from among the captain's band ; mere greenhorns, men unused to Indian life ; manguers de lard, or pork eaters, as such new-comers are super- ciliously called by the veterans of the wilder- ness. These he would astonish and delight by the hour, with prodigious tales of his doings among the Indians ; and of the wonders he had seen, and the wonders he had performed, in his adventurous peregrinations among the moun- tains. In the evening, the free trappers drew off, and returned to the camp of Fontenelle, highly delighted with their visit and w\th their new acquaintances, and promising to return the fol- lowing day. They kept their word : day after 1: 90 J3onneviUe'0 adventures day their visits were repeated ; they became " hail fellow well met " with Captain Bonne- ville's men ; treat after treat succeeded, until both parties got most potently convinced, or rather confounded, by liquor. Now came on confusion and uproar. The free trappers were no longer suffered to have all the swagger to themselves. The camp bullies and prime trap- pers of the party began to ruffle up, and to brag, in turn, of their perils and achievements. Each now tried to out-boast and out-talk the other ; a quarrel ensued as a matter of course, and a ,;eneral fight, according to frontier usage. The two factions drew out their forces for a pitched battle. They fell to work and be- labored each other with might and main ; kicks and cuffs and dry blows were as well bestowed as they were well merited, until, having fought to their heart's content, and been drubbed into a familiar acquaintance with each other's prowess and good qualities, they ended the fight by becoming firmer friends than they could have been rendered by a year's peacable companionship. While Captain Bonneville amused himself by observing the habits and characteristics of this singular clads of- men, and indulged them, for the time, in all their vagaries, he profited by the opportunity to collect from them informa- Cbaracter of tbe ZtibcB 97 tion conceminjy the different parts of the coun- try about whi jh they had been accustomed to range ; the characters of the tribes, and, in short, everything important to his enterprise. He also succeeded in securing the services of several to guide and aid him in his peregrina- tions among the mountains, and to trap for him during the ensuing season. Having strength- ened his party with such valuable recruits, he felt in some measure consoled ifor the loss of the Delaware Indians, decoyed from him by Mr. Fontenelle. VOL. 1.- dbapter mil. Plans for the Winter — Salmon River — Abundance of Salmon West of the Mountains — New Arrange- ments — Caches — Genre's Detachment — Movem<'nts in Pontenelle's Camp— Departure of the Black feet — Their Fortunes — Wind Mountain Streams — Buck; eye, the Delaware Hunter, and the Grizzly Bear- Bones of Murdered Travellers — ^Visit to Pierre's Hole — Traces of the Battle — Nez Perc6 Indians— Arrival at Salmon River. THE information derived from the free trap- pers determined Captain Bonneville as to his further movements. He learnt that in the Green River Valley the winters were severe, the snow frequently falling to the depth of several feet ; and that there was no good wintering ground in the neighborhood. The upper part of Salmon River was represented as far more eligible, besides being in an excellent beaver country ; and thither the captain re- solved to bend his course. The Salmon River is one of the upper 98 branc takes group Wind immet the m< salmot tains a vast tt that c( buffalo way in along 1 every v so the lated bl swarm their wi minutes the gre among tribes a derness, mals of periodic man to « The r into the exhaust] 1 Salmon 'River 99 re- branches of the Oregon or Columbia ; and takes its rise from various sources, among a group of mountains to the northwest of the Wind River chain. It owes its name to the immense shoals of salmon which ascend it in the months of September and October. The salmon on the west side of the Rocky Moun- tains are, like the buffalo on the eastern plains, vast migrator>' supplies for the wants of man, that come and go with the seasons. As the buffalo in countless throngs find their certain way in the transient pastuiage on the prairies, along the fresh banks of the rivers, and up every valley and green defile of the mountains, so the salmon, at their allotted seasons, regu- lated by a sublime and all-seeing Providence, swarm in myriads up the great rivers, and find their way up their main branches, and into the minutest tributary streams ; so as to pervade the great arid plains, and to penetrate even among barren mountains. Thus wandering tribes are fed in the desert places of the wil- derness, where there is no herbage for the ani- mals of the chase, and where, but for these periodical supplies, it would be impossible for man to subsist. The rapid currents of the rivers which run into the Pacific render the ascent of them very exhausting to the salmon. When the fish first too JSonncvfllc'd Bdvcnturea niti up the rivfers, they are fat and in fine or- der. The stniggle against impetuous streams and frequent rapids gradually renders them thin and weak, and great numbers are seen floating down the rivers on their backs. As the season advances and the water becomes chilled, they are flung in myriads on the shores, where the wolves and bears assemble to ban- quet on them. Often they rot in such quanti- ties along the river banks, as to taint the atmosphere. They are commonly from two to three feet long. Captain Bonneville now made his arrange- ments for the autumn and the winter. The nature of the country through which he was about to travel rendered it impossible to pro- ceed v/ith wagons. He had more goods and supplies of various kinds, also, than were re- quired for prtsent purposes, or than could be conveniently transported on horseback ; aided, therefore, by a few confidential men, he made caches, or secret pits, during the night, when all the rest of the camp were asleep, and in these deposited the superfluous effects, to- gether with the wagons. All traces of the caches were then carefully obliterated. This is a common expedient with the traders and trappers of the mountains. Having no estab- lished posts and magazines, they make these caches ( they rej expedie of India Man> lame as the mou cavalcac enced ti was to trappers of the C was goo neighbor the Sho! yearly m for peltr traded wi and recr was to Captain quarters * A villc not alwayi wandering of the ino but are a t and shiftin according BcrAiHicmentd tor tbc TIDllntcr lOI caches or deposits at certain points, whither they repair occasionally, for supplies. It is an expedient derived from the wandering tribes of Indians. Many of the horses were still so weak and lame as to be unfit for a long scramble through the mountains. These were collected into one cavalcade, and given in charge to an experi- enced trapper, of the name of Matthieu. He was to proceed westward, with a brigade of trappers, to Bear River ; a stream to the west of the Green River or Colorado, where there was good pasturage for the horses. In this neighborhood it was expected he would meet the Shoshonie villages or bands,* on their yearly migrations, with whom he was to trade for peltries and provisions. After he had traded with these people, finished his trappings, and recruited the strength of the horses, he was to proceed to Salmon River and rejoin Captain Bonneville, who intended to fix his quarters there for the winter. * A village of Indians, in trappers' language, does not always imply a fixed community ; but often a wandering horde or band. The Shoshonies, like most of the mountain tribes, have no settled residences ; but are a nomadic people, dwelling in tents or lodges, and shifting their encampments from place to place, according as fish and game abound. I02 J8onneville'0 BDventurcs :f:. :,^ V > While these arrangements were in progress lu the camp of Captain Bonneville, there was a sudden bustle and stir in the camp of Fonte- nelle. One of the partners of the American Fur Company had arrived, in all haste, from the rendezvous at Pierre's Hole, in quest of the supplies. The competition between the two rival companies was just now at its height, and prosecuted with unusual zeal. The tra- montane concerns of the Rocky Mountain Fur Company were managed by two resident part- ners, Fitzpatrick and Bridger ; those of the American Fur Company, by Vanderburgh and Dripps. The latter were ignorant of the mountain regions, but trusted to make up by vigilance and activity for their want of knowl- edge of the country. Fitzpatrick, an experienced trader and trap- per, knew the evils of competition in the same hunting grounds, and had proposed that the two companies should divide the country, so as to hunt in different directions : this propo- sition being rejected, he had exerted himself to get first into the field. His exertions, as has already been shown, were effectual. The early arrival of Sublette, with supplies, had enabled the various brigades of the Rocky Mounts* ' Company to start off to their respec- tive hunting grounds. Fitzpatrick himself, S>eparture of "Rival Companies 103 with his associate, Bridger, had pushed off with a strong party of trappers, for a prime beaver country to the north-northwest. This had put Vanderburgh upon his mettle. He had hastened on to meet Fontenelle. Find- ing him at his camp in Green River Valley, he immediately furnished himself with the sup- plies ; put himself at the head of the free trap- pers and Dela wares, and set off with all speed, determined to follow hard upon the heels of Fitzpatrick and Bridger. Of the adventures of these parties among the mountains, and the disastrous effects of their competition, we shall have occasion to treat in a future chapter. Fontenelle having now delivered his supplies and accomplished his errand, struck his tent.s and set off on his return to the Yellowstone. Captain Bonneville and his band, therefore, remained alone in the Green River Valley ; and their situation might have been perilous, had the Blackfeet band still lingered in the vicinity. Those marauders, however, had been dismayed at finding so many resolute and well-appointed parties of white men in this neighborhood. They had, therefore, aban- doned this part of the country, passing over the head-waters of the Green River, and bend- ing their course towards the Yellowstone. Misfortune pursued them. Their route lay I04 X0nncvnic*6 B^vcnture0 'vmrni M' «•■! through the country of their deadly enemies, the Crows. In the Wind River Valley, which lies east of the mountains, they were encoun- tered by a powerful war party of that tribe, and completely put to rout. Forty of them were killed, many of their women and children captured, and the scattered fugitives hunted like wild beasts, until they were completely chased out of the Crow country. On the 22d of August Captain Bonneville broke up his camp, and set out on his route for Salmon River. His baggage was arranged in packs, three to a mule, or pack-horse ; one be- ing disposed on each side of the animal, and one on the top ; the three forming a load of from one hundred and eighty to two hundred and twenty pounds. This is the trappers' style of loading their pack-horses ; his men, however, were inexpert at adjusting the packs ; which were prone to get loose and slip off; so that it was necessary to keep a rear-guard to assist in reloading. A few days' experience; however, brought them into proper training. Their march lay up the valley of the Seedb- ke-dee, overlooked to the right by the lofty peaks of the Wind River Mountains. From bright little lakes and fountain-heads of this remarkable bed of mountains, poured forth the tributary streams of the Seeds-ke-dee. Some came ri tumblii clefts a in rapid to thro transpa with wl ing abc beds w( many f quality ( vails for their wa Issuin Captain ] east, acrl rocky deJ and hors ware Ind His name himself o] the grizz] Though c had no he and attacls a rifle, he in full fore tunity ofp this mount Ir- 'Roclti? fountain Streamd lo? ^e; came rushing down gullies and ravines ; others tumbling in crystal cascades from inaccessible clefts and rocks, and others winding their way in rapid and pellucid currents across the valley, to throw themselves into the main river. So transparent were these waters, that the trout with which they abounded could be seen glid- ing about as if in the air ; and their pebbly beds were distinctly visible at the depth of many feet. This beautiful and diaphanous quality of the Rocky Mountain streams, pre- vails for a long time after they have mingled their waters and swollen into important rivers. Issuing from the upper part of the valley. Captain Bonneville continued to the east-north- east, across rough and lofty ridges, and deep rocky defiles, extremely fatiguing both to man and horse. Among his hunters was a Dela- ware Indian who had remained faithful to him. His name was Buckeye. He had often prided himself on his skill and success in coping with the grizzly bear, that terror of the hunters. Though crippled in the left arm, he declared he had no hesitation to close with a wounded bear, and attack him with a sword. If armed with a rifle, he was willing to brave the animal when in full force and fury. He had twice an oppor- tunity of proving his prowess, in the course of this mountain journey, and was each time suc' i\ I? ii • : io6 Xonncviilc*6 BDventures cessful. His mode was to seat himself upon the ground, with his rifle cocked and resting on his lame arm. Thus prepared, he would await the approach of the bear with perfect coolness, nor pull trigger until he was close at hand. In each instance, he laid the monster dead upon the spot. A march of three or four days, through sav- age and lonely scenes, brought Captain Bonne- ville to the fatal defile of Jackson's Hole, where poor More and Foy had been surprised and murdered by the Blackfeet. The feelings of the captain were shocked at beholding the bones of these unfortunate young men bleach- ing among the rocks ; and he caused them to be decently interred. On the 3d of September he arrived on the summit of a mountain which commanded a full view of the eventful valley of Pierre's Hole ; whence he could trace the windings of its stream through green meadows and forests of willow and cotton-wood, and have a pros- pec^, between distant mountains, of the lava plains of Snake River, dimly spread forth like a sleeping ocean below. After enjoying this magnificent prospect, he descended into the valley, and visited the scenes of the late desperate conflict. There were the remains of the rude fortress in the swam with 1 There dezvo Indiai guish( and hi had al demes pristin Tha battle toilsott tains. his pai fering thirst. he reac The toms o: in, but missing mornin custom, lose his tuous folio wir came or depth "Tyr^t f)arOdbfp0 or TIQlintcr ZtavclUng V: M 107 he the here the swamp, shattered by rifle shot, and strewed with the mingled bones of savages and horses. There was the late populous and noisy ren- dezvous, with the traces of trappers* camps and Indian lodges ; but their fires were extin- guished, the motley assemblage of trappers and hunters, white traders and Indian braves, had all dispersed to different points of the wil- derness, and the valley had relapsed into its pristine solitude and silence. That night the captain encamped upon the battle ground ; the next day he resumed his toilsome peregrinations through the moun- tains. For upwards of two weeks he continued his painful march ; both men and horses suf- fering excessively at times from hunger and thirst. At length, on the 19th of September, he reached the upper waters of Salmon River. The weather was cold, and there were, symp- toms of an impending storm. The night set in, but Buckeye, the Delaware Indian, was missing. He had left the party early in the morning, to hunt by himself, according to his custom. Fears were entertained lest he should lose his way and become bewildered in tempes- tuous weather. These fears increased on the following morning, when a violent snowstorm came on, which soon covered the earth to the depth of several inches. Captain Bonneville 'I ! ic8 Xonncv\l{c*6 Vib^entntce '.i^':M imniediately encamped, and sent out scouts in every direction. After some search Buckeye was discovered, quietly seated at a consider- able distance in the rear, waiting the expected approach of the party, not knowing that they had passed, the snow having covered their trail. On the ensuing morning they resumed their march at an early hour, but had not proceeded far when the hunters, who were beating up the country in the advance, came galloping back, making signals to encamp, and crying " Indians ! Indians ! " Captain Bonneville immediately struck into a skirt of wood and- prepared for action. The savages were now seen trooping over the hills in great numbers. One of them left the main body and came forward singly, making signals of peace. He announced them as a band of Nez Percys* or Pierced-nosed Indians, friendly to the whites, whereupon an invitation was returned by Captain Bonneville, for them to come and encamp with him. They halted for a short time to make their toilette, an operation as important with an Indian warrior as with a * We should observe that this tribe is universally called by its French name, which is pronounced by the trappers, Nepercy. There are two main branches of this tribe, the upper Nepercys and +he lower Ne- pciv^ys, as we shall show hereafter. tici perc^0 f tiMand 109 in by les fashionable beauty. This done, they arranged themselves in martial style, the chiefs leading the van, the braves following in a long line, painted and decorated, and topped off with fluttering plumes. In this way they advanced, shouting and singing, firing off their fusees, and clashing their shields. The two parties encamped hard by each other. The Nez Per- ces were on a hunting expedition, but had been almost famished on their march. They had no provisions left but a few dried salmon, yet finding the white men equally in want, they generously offered to share even this meagre pittance, and frequently repeated the offer, with an earnestness that left no doubt of their sincerity. Their generosity won the heart of Captain Bonneville, and produced the most cordial good-will on the part of his men. For two days that the parties remained in com- pany, the most amicable intercourse prevailed, and they parted the best of friends. Captain Bonneville detached a few men, under Mr. Cerr6, an able leader, to accompany the Nez Percys 0:1 their hunting expedition, and to trade with them for meat for the winter's sup- ply. After this, he proceeded down the river about five miles below the forks, when he came to a halt on the 26th of September, to establish his winter quarters. Hi / Cbapterff. Horses Turned Loose— Preparations for Winter Quar- ters — Hung/y Times — Nez Percys, their Honesty, Piety, Pacific Habits, Religious Ceremonies— Cap- tain Bonneville's Conversation with them — Their Love of Gambling. IT was gratifying to Captain Bonneville, after so long and toilsome a course of travel, to relieve his poor jaded horses of the burdens under which they were almost ready to give out, and to behold them rolling upon the grass, and taking a long repose after all their sufferings. Indeed, so exhausted were they, that those employed under the sad- dle were no longer capable of hunting for the daily subsistence of the camp. All hands now set to work to prepare a winr ter cantonment. A temporary fortificadon was thrown up for the protraction of the party ; a secure and comfortable pen, into which the horses could be driven at night; and huts were built for the reception of the merchandise. xzo This tributic remain propert brigade subsist the suo^ Indee provide hood, of the I recently neighbo] though tinually round, to keep i there wa occasions cravings roots, or Rarely c boast of of having this way October, five famil ure recon situation, triv-m^mmr»mi!ivraj^^- Scarcity ot food III This done, Captain Bonneville made a dis- tribution of his forces : twenty men were to remain with him in garrison to protect the property ; the rest were organized into three brigades, and sent oflf in different directions, to subsist themselves in hunting the buffalo, until the snow should become too deep. Indeed, it would have been impossible to provide for the whole party in this neighbor- hood. It was at the extreme western limit of the buffalo range, and these animals had recently been completely hunted out of the neighborhood by the Nez Perces, so that, al- though the hunters of the garrison were con- tinually on the alert, ranging the country' round, they brought in scarce game sufficient to keep famine from the door. Now and then there was a scanty meal of fish or wild fowl, occasionally an antelope ; but frequently the cravings of hunger had to be appeased with roots, or the flesh of wolves and muskrats. Rarely could the inmates of the cantonment boast of having made a full meal, and never of having wherewithal for the morrow. In this way they starved along until the 8th of October, when they were joined by a party of five families of Nez Percys, who in some meas- ure reconciled them to the hardships of their situatioxii by exhibiting a lot still more desU- T 112 J3onneY»Ule'0 BOvcntures i.i i tute. A more forlorn set they had never en- countered : they had not a morsel of meat or fish ; nor anything to subsist on, excepting roots, wild rosebuds, the barks of certain plants, and other vegetable productions ; neither had they any weapon for hunting or defense, ex- cepting an old spear : yet the poor fellows made no murmur nor complaint ; but seemed accus- tomed to their hard fare. If they could not teach the white men their practical stoicism, they at least made them acquainted with the edible properties of roots and wild rosebuds, and furnished them with a supply from their own store. The necessities of the camp at length became so urgent, that Captain Bonne- ville determined to dispatch a party to the Horse Prairie, a plain to the north of his can- tonment, to procure a supply of provisions. When the mea were about to depart, he pro- posed to the Nez Percys that they, or some of them, should join the hunting party. To his surprise, they promptly declined. He inquired the reason for their refusal, seeing that they were in nearly as starving a situation as his own people. They replied that it was a sacred day with them, and the Great Spirit would be angry should they devote it to hunting. They offered, however, to accompany the party if it would delay its departure until the following da> ; b would cecded. A few t> Capta hunt, guns or What dc among t paratory religious Spirit a ; cess ; the their wivi departed, spectators of faith £ benevolen tain Bonn find the w: stained b} man natui which I hj affected te least to ha bosoms wit such pure creatures s comforts o VOL. 1.— 8 iMiril gill Indian praiscrd 113 da> ; but this the pinching clcmatids of hunger would not permit, and the detachment pro- ceeded. A few days afterwards, four of them signified t) Captain Bonneville that they were about to hunt. ''What!" exclaimed he, *' without guns or arrows ; and with only one old spear ? What do you expect to kill?" They smiled among themselves, but made no answer. Pre- paratory to the chase, they performed some religious rites, and offered up to the Great Spirit a few short prayers for safety and sac- cess ; then, having received the blessings of their wives, they leapea upon their horses and departed, leaving the whole party of Christian spectators amazed and rebuked by this lesson of faith and dependence on a supreme and benevolent Being. "Accustomed," adds Cap- tain Bonneville, '* as I had heretofore been, to find the wretched Indian revelling -n blood, and stained by every vice which can degrade hu- man nature, I could scarcely realize the scene which I had witnessed. Wonder at such un- affected tenderness and piety, where it was least to have been sought, contended in all our bosoms with shame and confusion, at receiving such pure and wholesome instructions from creatures so far below us in all the arts and comforts of life." The simple prayers of the VOL. I. — 8 if 114 Xonncvii[c*& BOPcnturee ill poor Indians were not unheard. In the course of four or five days they returned, laden with meat. Captain Bonneville was curious to know how they had attained such success with such scanty means. They gave him to under- stand that they had chased the herds of buffalo at full speed, until they tired them down, when they easily dispatched them with the spear, and made use of the same weapon to flay the carcasses. To carry through their lesson to their Christian friends, the poor savages were as charitable as they had been pious, and generously shared with them the spoils of their hunting ; giving them food enough to last for several days. A further and more intimate intercourse with this tribe gave Captain Bonneville still greater cause to admire their strong devotional feeling. **Simpl5'^to call these people religious," says he, *' would convey but a faint idea of the deep hue of piety and devotion which pervades their whole conduct. Their honesty is immac- ulate, and tlieir purity of purpose, and their observance of the rites of their religion, are most uniform and remarkable. They are, certainly, more like a nation of saints than a horde of savages." In fact, the anti-belligerent policy of this tribe may have sprung from the doctrines of Chris had faith who 1 rude < Romii monia their medle; bath, selves a pole they g. strongl Shakin much I the ini chiefs, their d good d< "Th^ archal, * union there is which a The been sti looked- wilderue this 'Relidioud Ccrcmontal x»5 oi Christian charity, for it would appear thatthty had imbibed some notions of the Christian faith from CathoHc missionaries and traders who had been among them. They even had a rude calendar of the fasts and festivals of the Romish Church, and some traces of its cere- monials. These have become blended with their own wild rites, and present a strange medley, civilized and barbarous. On the Sab- bath, men, women, and children array them- selves in their best style, and assemble round a pole erected at the head of the camp. Here they go through a wild fantastic ceremonial ; strongly resembling the religious dance of the Shaking Quakers ; but from its enthusiasm, much more striking and impressive. During the intervals of the ceremony the principal chiefs, who officiate as priests, instruct them in their duties, aiid exhort them to virtue and good deeds. "There is something antique and patri- archal," observes Captain Bonneville, " in this union of the offices of leader and priest ; as there is in many of their customs and manners, which are all strongly imbued with religion." The worthy captain, indeed, appears to have been strongh^ interested by this gleam of un- looked-for light amidst the darkness of the wilderness. He exerted himself, during his ' ii * ^j •I' Hi Il6 JSonncfille'd 'Bbvcntntes ; J , ; I sojourn among this simple and well-disposed people, to inculcate, as far as he was able, the gentle and humanizing precepts of the Chris- tian faith, and to make them acquainted with the leading points of its history : and it speaks highly foi the purity and benignity of his heart, that he derived unmixed happiness from the task. "Many a time," says he, "was my little lodge thronged, or rather piled with hearers, for they lay on the ground, one leaning over the other, until there was no further room, all listening with greedy ears to the wonders which the Great Spirit had revealed to the white man. No other subject gave them half the satisfaction, or commanded half the atten- tion ; and but few scenes in my life remain so freshly on my memory, or are so pleasurably recalled to my contemplation, as these hours of intercourse with a distant and benighted race in the midst of the desert." The only excesses indulged in by this tem- perate and exemplary people, appear to be gambling and horse-racing. In these they engage with an eagerness that amounts to infatuation. Knots of gamblers wJU assemble before one of their lodge fires, early in the evening, and remain absorbed in the chances and changes of the game until long after dawn of tlu they w in amo greatei gambli poorest I—- ■ ■*• ■-"--■- (3amblind and f)or0C«'Kacin0 i»7 of the following day. As night advances, they wax warmer and warmer. Bets increase in amount, one loss only serves to lead to a greater, until in the course of a single night's gambling, the richest chief may become the poorest varlet in the camp. •:iir I' t I Ml i I i |! ! Cbaptet f ♦ Blackfeet in the Horse Prairie— Search after the Hun- ters — Difficulties and Dangers — A Card Party in the Wilderness— The Card Party Interrupted— "Old Sledge," a Losing Game— Visitors to the Camp- Iroquois Hunters — Hanging-Eared Indians. ON the 1 2th of October, two young Indians of the Nez Perc6 tribe arrived at Cap- tain Bonneville's encampment. They were on their way homeward, but had been obliged to swerve from their ordinar>' route through the mountains, by deep snows. Their new route took them through the Horse Prai- rie. In traversing it, they had been attracted by the distant smoke of a camp-fire, and, on stealing near to reconnoitre, had discovered a war party of Blackfeet. They had several horses with them ; and, as they generally go on foot on warlike excursions, it was concluded that these horses had been captured in the course of their maraudings. xi8 Thisi mind of hunters hood ; a the circi clared th had been Anxio tain Bon: up the CO in vain ; but th(ry where .; time, tae; mouthful buffalo g After ma they fired, to flight, dale, with starving i him to tl him, pluu] layed his i A fire was when the and again, to sleep be: lowing mo] ■M Searcb tor tbc 1>untcr0 119 This intelligence awakened solicitude on the mind of Captain Bonneville, for the party of hunters whom he had sent to that neighbor- hood ; and the Nez Percys, when informed of the circumstance, shook their heads, and de- clared the belief that the horses they had seen had been stolen from that very party. Anxious for information on the subject, Cap- tain Bonneville dispatched two hunters to beat up the country in that direction. They searched in vain ; not a trace of the men could be found ; but tht-y j^ot into a region destitute of game, where i^w were wellnigh famished. At one time, tiiey were three entire days without a mouthful of food ; at length they beheld a buffalo grazing at the foot of a mountain. After manoeuvring so as to get within shot, they fired, but merely wounded him. He took to flight, and they followed him over hill and dale, with the eagerness and perseverance of starving men. A more lucky shot brought him to the ground. Stanfield sprang upon him, plunged his knife into his throat, and al- layed his raging hunger by drinking his blood. A fire was instantly kindled beside the carcass, when the two hunters cooked, and ate again and again, until, perfectly gorged, they sank to sleep before their hunting fire. On the fol- I lowing morning they rose earl> , made another ! i ■i i- -, r ' I 1 20 JSoniieville'^ Bd\^eiiture0 hearty meal, then loading themselves with buf- falo meat, set out on their return to the camp, to report the fruitlessness of their mission. / . length, after six weeks* absence, the hun- ters made their appearance, and were received with joy, proportioned to the anxiety that had been felt on their account. They had hunted with success on the prairie, but, while busy dry- ing buflfalo meat, were joined by a few panic- stricken Flatheads, who informed them that a powerful band of Blackfeet were at hand. The hunters immediately abandoned the dangerous hunting-ground, and accompanied the Flat- heads to their village. Here they found Mr. Cerrd, and the detachment of hunters sent with him to accompany the hunting party of the Nez Percys. After remaining some time at the village, until they supposed the Blackfeet to have left the neighborhood, they set oflf, with some of Mr. Cerr^'s men, ifor the cantonment of Salmon River, where they arrived without accident. They informed Captain Bonneville, however, that, not far from his quarters, they had found a wallet of fresh meat and a cord, which they supposed had been left by some prowling Blackfeet. A few clays afterwards, Mr. Cerr6, with the remainder of his men, likewise ar- rived at the cantonment. Mr. gone, the coi likewij pervad nieuts, the car a little these I lows, t( of care popular as whis the citi€ were su arms, a their fee beheld i ready ir stolen Uj were spe] The lud backed, £ a galling mules, h burly, ar up their in spite ( ihe rest ] mmmmmmmmmamm md ley r6. ar- B CarD partis in tbe MilDerncdd 121 Mr. Walker, one of the subleaders, who had gone, with a band of twenty hunters, to range the country just beyond the Horse Prairie, had. likewise, his share of adventures with the all- pervading Blackfeet. At one of his encamp- ments, the guard stationed to keep watch round the camp grew weary of their duty, and feeling a little too secure, and too much at home on these prairies, retired to a small grove of wil- lows, to amuse themselves with a social game of cards, called ** old sledge," which is as popular among the trampers of the prairies, as whist or ecart6 among the polite circles of the cities. From the midst of their sport, they were suddenly roused by a discharge of fire- arms, and a shrill war-whoop. Starting on their feet, and snatching up their riflts, they beheld in dismay their horses and mujes al- ready in possession of the eneriy, who had stolen upon the camp unperceived, while they were spell-bound by the magic of ** old sledge." The Indians sprang upon the animals bare- backed, ar d endeavored to urge them off under a galling fire, that did some execution. The mules, however, confounded by the hurly- burly, and disliking their new riders, kicked up their heels and dismounted half of them, in spite of their horsemanship. This threw ihe rest into confusion ; they endeavored to i ■ 122 JBonnei?fUe'0 'B^vcntutce ?'i n protect their unhorsed comrades from the furi- ous assaults of the whites ; but, after a scene of "confusion worse confounded," horses and mules v> e abandoned, and the Indians betook themse; . ea to the bushes. Here they quickly- scratched holes in the earth about two feet deep, in which they prostrated themselves, and while thus screened from the shots of the white men, were enabled to make such use of their bows and arrows and fusees as to repulse their assailants, and to effect their retreat. This ad- venture threw a temporary stigma upon the game of * * old sledge. * * In the course of the autumn, four Iroquois hunters, driven by the snow from their hunt- ing grounds, made their appearance at the cantonment. They were kindlj'- welcomed, and during their sojourn made themselves useful in a variety of ways, being excellent trappers and first-rate woodsmen. They were of the remnants of a party of Iroquois hun- ters, that came from Canada into these moun- tain regions many years previously, in the employ of the Hudson's Bay Company. They were led by a brave chieftain, named Pierre, who fell by the hands of the Blackfeet, and gave his name to the fated valley of Pierre's Hole. This branch of the Iroquois tribe has ever since remained among these mountains. at morti lost mai with th in with of his g and ha^ 3f the cc Amon quarters of Pendi chief. 1 blance, ii Percys. lodges, a numbers mer, and the head- of the Snj of Salmo] upon the upon root river the ] lished a ti and the I change foi This tril and peculi religion is that of mo [e V tt)f0it ot f)en&0 OxcillCB 123 at mortal enmity v»^ith the Blackfeet, and have lost many of their prime hunters in their feuds with that ferocious race. Some of them fell in with General Ashley, in the course of one of his gallant excursions into the wilderness, and have continued ever since in the employ Df the company. Among the motley visitors to the winter quarters of Captain Bonneville, was a party of Pends Oreilles (or Hanging-Ears) and their chief. These Indians have a strong resem- blance, in character and customt to the Nez Percys. They amount to about three hundred lodges, and are well armed, and possess great numbers of horses. During the spring, sum- mer, and autumn they hunt the buffalo alwut the head-waters of the Missouri, Henry's Fork of the Snake River, and the northern branches of Salmon River. Their winter quarters are upon the Racine Am^re, where they subsist upon roots and dried buffalo meat. Upon this river the Hudson's Bay Company have estab- lished a trading post, where the Pends Oreilles and the Flatheads bring their peltries to ex- change for arms, clothing, and trinkets. This tribe, like the Nez Percys, evince strong and peculiar feelings of natural piety. Their religion is not a mere superstitious fear, like that of most savages ; they evince abstract no- ■II ; 1 ' 'i I I M h\ V H ti ii 'I ; 1 I;; III tli: ■ l. •m^ 124 J8onnevUle'0 Bdventures tions of morality, a deep reverence for an over- ruling Spirit, and a respect for the rights of their fellow-men. In one respect, their religion partakes of the pacific doctrines of the Quak- ers. They hold that the Great Spirit is dis- pleased with ail nations who wantonly engage in war ; they abstain, therefore, from all ag- gressive hostilities. But though thus unof- fending in their policy, they are called upon continually to wage defensive warfare, espe- cially with the Blackfeet ; with whom, in the course of their hunting expeditions, they come in frequent collision, and have desperate bat- tles. Their conduct as warriors is without fear or reproach, and they can never be driven to abandon their hunting grounds. Like most savages, they are firm believers in dreams, and in the power and efficacy of charms and amulets, or medicines, as they term them. Some of their braves, also, who have had numerous hair-breadth 'scapes, like the old Nez Perc^ chief in the battle of Pierre's Hole, are believed to wear a charmed life, and to be bullet-proof. Of these gifted beings mar- vellous anecdotes are related, which are most potently believed by their fellow-savages, and sometimes almost credited by the white hunters. Rival Ti Game- ) Camp A Fiei and Br the B; Young W after the the Roci panics, w to the nc Fitzpai pany, as ceived tl hoped to ground. the two 1 pany, by *nll Cbaptet n* Rival Trapping Parties — Manceuvrlug — A Desperate Game — ^Vanderburgh and the Blackfeet — Deserted Camp Fires— A Dark Defile — An Indian Ambush — A Fierce Mel6e — Fatal Consequences — Fitzpatrick and Bridger— Trappers* Precautions — Meeting with the Blackfeet — More Fighting — Anecdote of a Young Mexican and an Indian Girl. WHILE Captain Bonneville i. id his men are sojourning among the Nez Per- cys, on Salmon River, we will inquire after the fortunes of those doughty rivals of the Rocky Mountain and American Fur Com- panies, who started off for the trapping grounds to the north-northwest. Fitzpatrick and Bridger, of the former com- pany, as we have already shown, having ••e- ceived their supplies, had taken the lead, and hoped to have the first sweep of the hunting ground. Vanderburgh and Dripps, however, the two resident partners of the opposite com- pany, by extraordinary exertions, were en- "5 i ■ n !i ■ I ; 1 1 1 t i >J \l SI v^ i! 'Ml I m f. ill *" I ■ I I , If6 Xonncviiit'B Vibvcntntee abled soon to pui: themselves upon their traces, and pressed forward with such speed as to overtake them just as they had reached the heart of the beaver country. In fact, be- ing ignorant of the best trapping grounds, it was their object to follow on and profit by the superior knowledge of the other party. Nothing could equal the chagrin of Fitz- patrick and Bridger, at being dogged by their inexperienced rivals ; especially after their offer to divide the country with them. They tried in every way to blind and baffle them, to steal a march upon them, or lead them on a wrorg scent ; but all in vain. Vanderburgh made up, by activity and intelligence, for his ignorance of the country ; was always wary, always on the alert ; discovered every move- ment of his rivals, however secret, and was not to be eluded or misled. Fitzpatrick and his colleague now lost all patience ; since the others persisted in follow- ing them, they determined to give them an unprofitable chase, and to sacrifice the hunting season, rather than share the products with their rivals. They accordingly took up their line of march down the course of the Missouri, keeping the main Blackfo
•ill i "U ■k i i 1 : 1^ ;;l f II It- r. i 1 M Ifliiii Tiii'iii mil m ;: ; ■ ut ',■■'01 ■:ff :! 138 J8onnevUk'0 BDventurea and hasty retreat ; and gave reason to lielieve that the savages were still lurking in the neighborhood. With heedless daring, Vander- burgh put himself upon their trail, to trace them to their place of concealment. It led him over prairies, and through skirts of woodland, until it entered a dark and dangerous ravine. Vanderburgh pushed in, without hesitation, followed by his little band. They soon found themselves in a gloomy dell, between steep banks overhung with trees ; where the pro- found silence was only broken by the tramp of their own horses. Suddenly the horrid war-whoop burst on their ears, mingled with the sharp report of rifles, and a legion of savages sprang from their concealments, yelling,* and shaking their buffalo r:bes to frighten the horses. Vander- burgh's horse fell, mortally wounded by the first discharge. In his fall, he pinned his rider to the ground ; who called in vain upon his men to assist in extricating him. One w^as shot down and scalped a few paces distant ; most of the others were severely wounded, and sought their safety in flight. The savages ap- proached to dispatch the unfortunate leader, as he lay struggling beneath his horse.. He had still his rifle in his hand, and his pistols in his belt. The first savage that advanced m T, id fntc of Aajor Van&erbur0b 139 received the contents of the rifle in his breast, and fell dead upon the spot ; but before Van- derburgh could tlraw a pistol, a blow from a tomahawk laid him prostrate, and he was dis- patched by repeated wounds. Such was the fate of Major Henry Vander- burgh, one of the best and worthiest leaders of the American Fur Company ; whu, by his manly bearing and dauntless courage, is said to have made himself universally j,x)pul r among the bold-hearted rovers of the wilder- ness. Those of the little band who escaped flee in consternation to the camp, and spread direful reports of the force and ferocity of the enemy. The party, being without a head, were in com- plete confusion and dismay, and made a pre- cipitate retreat, without attempting to recover the remains of their butchered leader. They made no halt until they reached the encamp- ment of the Pends Oreilles, or Ha. >?jng-Ears, where they ofifered a reward for the recovery of the body, but without success ; it never could be found. In the meantime Fitzpatnck and Bridger, of the Rocky Mountain Company, fared but little better than their rivals. In their eagerness to mislead them, they had betrayed themselves i»'.to danger, and ^^^^ into a region infested with Vt)U I.- M li 1 1 1 1 \. I W. ■ f \ 130 JSonncvtUc'd BD'vcnturcd the Blackfeet. They soon found that foes were on the watch for them ; but they were experi- enced in Indian warfare, and not to be sur- prised at night, nor drawn into an ambush in the daytime. As the evening advanced, the horses were all brought in and picketed, and a guard was stationed round the camp. At the earliest streak of day one of the leaders would mount his horse, and gallop oflf full speed for about half a mile ; then look round for Indian trails, to ascertain whether there had been any lurkers round the camp ; returning slowly, he would reconnoitre every ravine and thicket where there might be an ambush. This done, he would gallop oflf in an opposite direction and repeat the same scrutiny. Finding all things safe, the horses would be turned loose to graze, but always under the eye of a guard. A caution equally vigilant was observed in the march, on approaching any defile or place where an enemy might He in wait ; and scouts were always kept in the advance, or along the ridges and rising grounds on the flanks. At length, one day, a large band of Black- feet appeared in the open field, but in the vicinity of rocks and cliflfs. They kept at a wary distance, but made friendly signs. The trappers replied in the same way, but likewise kept aloof. A small party of Indians now ad- vanced met by they fc bands, hand t mony. place a trappei spiritec in the < a beaut by whc her his had foil most di Amoi with th brother rushed brother' to his 1 little CO the savj Whih left the towards resting j chief of him. F Xoretto atiD f)fd f tiMan Wiitc 131 V vanced, bearing the pipe of peace ; they were met by an equal number of white men, and they formed a group, midway between the two bands, where the pipe was circulated from hand to hand, and smoked with all due cere- mony. An instance of natural affection took place at this pacific meeting. Among the free trappers in the Rocky Mountain band, was a spirited young Mexican, named Loretto ; who, in the course of his wanderings, had ransomed a beautiful Blackfoot girl from a band of Crows by whom she had been captured. He made her his wife, after the Indian style, and she had followed his fortunes ever since, with the most devoted affection. Among the Blackfeet warriors who advanced with the calumet of peace, she recognized a brother. leaving her infant with Loretto, si: e rushed forward and threw herself upon her brother's neck ; who clasped his long-lost sister to his heart, with a warmth of affection but little compatible with the reputed stoicism of the savage. While this scene was taking place, Bridger left the main body of trappers, and rode slowly towards the group of smokers, with his rifle resting across the pommel of his saddle. The chief of the Blackfeet stepped forward to meet him. From some unfortunate feeling of dis- i >i ? I f ^ t If' 3 •'I s Is * '» » It ■ill :^^if hi 'I (A ,i • VI ' mi !'■ .'J :j f'j ^|1 i32 JSoiincviUc'0 BDventiired trust, Bridget cocked his rifle just as the chief was extending his hand in friendship. Tb*: quick ear of the savage caught the click of the lock ; in a twinkling, he grasped the barrel, forcing the muzzle downward, and the contents were discharged into the earth at his feet. His next movement was to wrest the weapon from the hand of Bridger, and fell him with it to the earth. He might have found this no easy task, had not the unfortunate leader re- ceived two arrows in his back during the struggle. The chief now sprang into the vacant saddle and galloped oflf to his band. A wild hurry- skurry scene ensued ; each party took the banks, the rocks, and trees, to gain favorable positions, and an irregular firing was kept up on either side, without much effect. The Indian girl had been hurried off by her people, at the outbreak of the affray. She would have returned, through the dangers of the fight, to her husband and her child, but was prevented by her brother. The young Mexican saw her struggles and her agony, and heard her pier- cing cries. With a generous impulse, he caught up the child in his arms, rushed for- ward, regardless of Indian shaft or rifle, and placed it in safety upon her bosom. Even the savage heart of the Blackfoot chief was reached by thij madm in pea< urged brothe chief g to his t lyorettc implore endang tance tl The skirmis savages hostiliti both in Hole, th the part the Indi amity. stances 1 sons, dc savage c friendshi way ust the pipe sacred fr of this c on our pj i i Xorctto auD 1)i0 f nOian Wire 133 by this noble deed. He pronounced L,oretto a madman for his temerity, but bade him depart in peace. The young Mexican hesitated : he urged to have his wife restored to him, but her brother interfered, and the countenance of the chief grew dark. The girl, he said, belonged to his tribe — she must remain with her people. L,oretto would still have lingered, but his wife implored him to depart, lest his life should be endangered. It was with the greatest reluc- tance that he returned to his companions. The approach of night put an end to the skirmishing fire of the adverse parties, the savages drew off without renewing their hostilities. We cannot but remark, that both in this affair and in that of Pierre's Hole, the affray commenced by a hostile act on the part of white men, at the moment when the Indian warrior was extending the hand of amity. In neither instance, as far as circum- stances have been stated to us by different per- sons, do we see any reason to suspect the savage chiefs of perfidy in their overtures of friendship. They advanced in the confiding way usual among Indians when they bear the pipe of peace, and consider themselves sacred from attack. If we violate the sanctity of this ceremonial, by any hostile movement on our part, it is we who incur the charge of '< y t 1' 1 in i»^ ' 111 i ! ill ^' m Ht: il \m 'II ■Imi ■ I' (■; 134 J9onneville'0 Bdvcnturcd IV U 1 I, :! faithlessness ; and we doubt not that in both these instances the white men have been con- sidered by the Blackfeet as the aggressors, and have, in consequence, been held up as men not to be trusted. A word to conclude the romantic incident of Loretto and his Indian bride. A few months subsequent to the event just related, the young Mexican settled his accounts with the Rocky Mountain Company, and obtained his discharge. He then left his comrades and set oflf to rejoin his wife and child among her people ; and we understand that, at the time we are writing these pages, he resides at a trading- house established of late by the American Fur Company, in the Blackfoot country, where he acts as an interpreter and has his Indian girl with him. : ; r 1 i *^*' ! i il ll Cbaptcr nt A Winter Camp in the Wilderness — Medley of Trap- pers, Hunters, and Indians — Scarcity of Game — New Arrangements in the Camp — Detachments Sent to a Distance — Carelessness of the Indians when En- camped — Sickness among the Indians — Excellent Character of the Nez Percys— The Captain's Effort as a Pacificator — A Nez Percy's Argument in F.ivor of War — Robberies by the Blackfeet— Long-Suffer- ing of the Nez Percys— a Hunter's Elysium among the Mountains — More Robberies — The Captain Preaches up a Crusade — The Effect upon his Hearers. FOR the greater part of the month of No- vember, Captain Bonneville remained in his temporary post on Salmon River. He was now in the full enjoyment of his wishes; leading a hunter's life in the heart of the wilderness, with all its wild populace around him. Besides his own people, motley in character and costume — Creole, Kentuckian, Indian, half-breed, hired trapper, and free 135 lU li ill ^ 1r I I ill ■? I mi 5i a fij ii I m 1i i'l 1 1 1 I; ill!: ^11; MS, ii m 1..! . :Si !i"i' ■'Jii!t'i;-';;i 136 J8onncviKc'0 Bdvcntures trapper — he was suk'rounded by encanipoiedts of Nez Percys aad Flatheads, with their drovts bf horses covering the hills and piaiijii. It was, he declares, a wild and bustling sc/cn'.:. The hunting parties of white men and red men, continually sallying forth and returning ; the groups at the various encampments, sonut cooking, some working, some amusing them- selves at different games ; the neighing of horse ;. the brayir^g of asses, the resounding strokes of the axe, the sharp report of the rifle, the v hooj*, the halloo, and the frequent burst of laughter, all in the midst of a region suddenly roused fronl perfect silence and lone- liness by this transient hunters' sojourn, realized, he says, the idea of a " populous solitude." The kind and genial character of the cap- tain had, evidently, its influence on the oppo- site races thus fortuitously congregated to- gether. The most perfect harmony prevailed between them. The Indians, he says, were friendly in their dispositions, and honest to the most scrupulous degree, in their intercourse with the white men. It is true they were somewhat importunate in their curiosity, and apt to be continually in the way, examining everything with keen and prying eye, and watching every movement of the white men. All th humor pie by transac poor Ii above i The Hangii ber of t in prop tribes \ Indian Captain horses ( ponies, the seve of them whites climatec mountai Byde ment t The im Indians ing hill pasturaj lurking danger 1 too, begi Indtan Iboraea 137 g id All this, however, was borne with great good- humor by the captain, and through his exam- ple by his men. Indeed, throughout all his transactions, he shows himself the friend of the poor Indians, and his conduct towards them is above all praise. The Nez Percys, the Flatheads, and the Hanging- Ears pride themselves upon the num- ber of their horses, of which they possess more in proportion than any other of the mountain tribes within the buffalo range. Many of the Indian warriors and hunters, encamped around Captain Bonneville, possess from thirty to fcrty horses each. Their horses are stout, well built ponies, of great wind, and capable of enduring the severest hardship and fatigue. The swiftest of them, however, are those obtained from the whites while sufficiently young to become ac- climated and inured to the rough service of the mountains. By degrees the populousness of this encamp- ment began to produce its inconveniences. The immense droves of horses owned by the Indians consumed the herbage of the surround- ing hills ; while, to drive them to any distant pasturage, in a neighborhood abounding with lurking and deadly enemies, would be to en- danger the loss both of man and beast. Game too, began to grow scarce. It was soon hunted iiH •.i I in i (!, ;S I3« Xonncvilic'e SDventitrc0 '■ hii m--i '•I nliMM iUi ■'Hi l I'll i . I - ,<■!>, ■i r ' . rr; aiul frightened out of the viciiiity, and though the Indians made a wide circuit through the mountains in the hope of driving the buffalo towards the cantonment, their expedition was unsuccessful. It was plain that so large a party could not subsist themselves there, nor in any one place, throughout the winter. Captain Bonneville, therefore, altered his whole ar- rangements. He detached fifty men towards the south to winter upon Snake River, and to trap about its waters in the spring, with orders to rejoin him in the month of Jul3% at Horse Creek, in Green River Valley, which he had fixed upon as the general rendezvous of his company for the ensuing year. Of all his late party, he now retained with him merely a small number of free trappers, with whom he intended to sojourn among the Nez Percys and Flatheads, and adopt the In- dian mode of moving with the game and grass. Those bands, in effect, shortly afterwards broke up their encampments and set off for a less beaten neighborhood. Captain Bonneville re- mained behind for a few da} 3, that he might secretly prepare caches^ in which to deposit everything not required for current use. Thus lightened of all superfluous incumbrance, he set off on the 20th of November to rejoin his Indian allies. He found them encamped in a ist me was no less perseeuting. War parties of llie Crows were hovering round us ; our young men had seen their trail. All hearts were roused for action ; my horses were before my lodge. Suddenly the chief came, took them '^o his own pickets, and called them his ovv ''nt could 1 do ? — he was a chief. I dui peak, but my heart was burning. I jc . . .o longer in the council, the hunt, or the war-feast. What had I to do there ? an unhorsed, degraded warrior. I kept by myself, and thought of nothing but these wrongs and outrages. "I was sitting one evening upon a knoll that overlooked the meadow where the horses were pastured. I saw the horses that were once mine grazing among those of the chief. This maddened me, and I sat brooding for a time over the injuries I had suffered, and the cruelties which she I loved had endured for my sake, until my heart swelled and grew sore, and my teeth were clinched. As I looked down upon the meadow, I saw the chief walk- ing among his horses. I fastened my eyes on him as a hawk's ; my blood boiled ; I drew my breath hard. He went among the willows. In an instant I was on my feet : my hand was on my knife — I flew rather than ran— before he was aware, I sprang upon him, and with •\ .%^^^'\- IMAGE EVALUATION TEST TARGET (MT-3) 1.0 -^ 1^ 12.2 I 1.1 l.-^i 2.0 N^ 1 1.25 1 U , ,.6 < 6" ► •i Photographic Sciences Corporation 33 WIST MAIN STRIET WEBSTIR.N.Y. MStO (716) •72-4503 \ iV N> ^^ <8^V "^^ i 1 n ^(i? 156 Xonncvil\c*s B^ventured 'I' two blows laid him dead at my feet. I covered his body with earth, and strewed bushes over the place ; then hastened to her I loved, told her what I had done, and urged her to fly with me. She only answered me with tears. I reminded her of the wrongs I had suffered, and of the blows and stripes she had endured from the deceased ; I had done nothing but an act of justice. I again urged her to fly ; but she only wept the more, and bade me go. My heart was heavy, but my eyes were dry. I folded my arms. ' *Tis well,' said I, * Kosato will go alone to the desert. None will be with him but the wild beasts of the desert. The seekers of blood may follow on his trail. They may come upon him when he sleeps, and jjlut their revenge ; but you will be safe. Kosato will go alone.' ** I turned away. She sprang after me, and strained me in her arms. ' No,' cried she, ' Kosato shall not go alone ! Wherever he goes I will go — he shall never part from me. ' * ' We hastily took in our hands such things as we most needed, and stealing quietly from the village, mounted the first horses we en- countered. Speeding day and night, we soon reached this tribe. They received us with welcome, and we have dwelt with them in peace. They are good and kind : they are , I store ot 1tO0ato 157 honest ; but their hearts are the hearts of women. ' ' Such was the story of Kosato, as ;^elated by him to Captain Bonneville. It is of a kind that often occurs in Indian life ; where love elopements from tribe to tribe are as frequent as among the novel-read heroes and heroines of sentimental civilization, and often give rise to bloody and lasting feuds. 1,1 \l ■ 'i {111 1 ::!! i n m W- m Cbaptct f f ID. The Party Enters the Mountain Gorge — A Wild Fastness among the Hills — Mountain Mutton — Peace and Plenty — ^The Amorous Trapper — ^A Pie- bald Wedding — A Free Trapper's Wife— Her Gala Bqui^ments — Christmas in the Wilderness. ON the 19th of December Captain Bonne- ville and his confederate Indians raised their camp, and entered the narrow gorge made by the north fork of Salmon River. Up this lay the secure and plenteous himting region so temptingly described by the In-^^ns. Since leaving Green River the plait iiad invariably been of loose sand or coarse gravel, and the rocky formation of the laountains of primitive limestone. The rivers, in general, were skirted with willows and bitter cotton- wood trees, and the prairies covered with wormwood. In the hollow breast of the mountains which they were now penetrating, the siUTounding heights were clothed with 158 IMcnti? nnd Sccuriti? i$9 pine ; while the decUvities of the lower hills afforded abundance of bunch grass for the horses. As the Indians had represented, they were now in a natural fastness of the mountains, the ingress and egress of which was by a deep gorge, so narrow, rugged, and difficult, as to prevent secret approach or rapid retreat, and to admit of easy defense. The Blackfeet, therefore, refrained from venturing in after the Nez Percys, awaiting a better chance, when they should once more emerge into the open country. Captain Bonneville soon found that the Indians had not exaggerated the advantages of this region. Besides numerous gangs of elk, large flocks of the ahsahta or bighorn, the mountain sheep, were to be seen bounding among the precipices. These simple animals were easily circumvented and destroyed. A few hunters may surround a flock and kill as many as they please. Numbers were daily brought into camp, and the flesh of those which were young and fat was extolled as superior to the finest mutton. Here, then, there was a cessation from toil, from hunger, and alarm. Past ills and dangers were forgotten. The hunt, the game, the song, the story, the rough though good-humored !V,,fj i I : i ' 11 . 1 '.^ 1 : ; ■ iil; i6o JSonneville'd BOvcnturcd joke, made time pass joyously away, and plenty and security reigned throughout the camp. Idleness and ease, it is said, lead to love, and love to matrimony, in civilized life, and the same process takes place in the wilderness. FiUed with good cheer and mountain mutton, one of the free trappers began to repine at the liolitude of his lodge, and to experience the force of that great law of nature, *' It is not aieet for man to live alone." After a night of grave cogitation, he repaired lo Kowsoter, the Pierced-Nose chief ; and un- folded to him the secret workings of his bosom. ** I want," said he, "a wife. Give me one from among your tribe. Not a young, giddy- pated girl, that will think of nothing but flaunting and finery, but a sober, discreet, hard-working squav; ; one that will share my lot without flinching, however hard it may be ; that can take care of my lodge and be a com- panion and a helpmate to me in the wilder- ness." Kowsoter promised to look around among the females of his tribe, and procure such a one as he desired. Two days were requisite for the search. At the expiration of these, Kowsoter called at his lodge and informed him that he would bring his bride to him in the course of the afternoon. He kept his word. At the appointed time he approached, leading tl ti b B Wrapper TIClc^^fn0 i6i the bride, a comely copper-colored dame, at- tired in her Indian finery. Her father, mother, brothers by the half dozen, and cousins by the score, all followed on to grace the ceremony, and greet the new and important relative. The trapper leceived his new and numer- ous family connection with proper solemnity ; he placed his bride beside him, and, filling the pipe, the great symbol of peace, with his best tobacco, took two or three whiffs, then handed it to the chief, who transferred it to the father of the bride, from whom it was passed on from hand to hand and mouth to mouth of the whole circle of kinsmen round the fire, all maintaining the most profound and becoming silence. After several pipes had been filled and emp- tied 'in this solemn ceremonial, the chief ad- dressed the bride ; detailing at considerable length, the duties of a wife, which, among Indians, are little less onerous than those of the pack-horse ; this done, he turned to her friends, and congratulated them upon the great alliance she had made. They showed a due sense of their good fortune, especially when the nuptial presents came to be distributed among the chiefs and relatives, amounting to about one hundred and eighty dollars. The company soon ipetired, and now the worthy VOL, I— XI. 1 by 1 t I } ! i ■■ ■ J ■'■"}' '.1 '/■'■]: .1: --M .Mil, • i III 1 ' ; . ', s'i;. j.iljl, • i i i ii - ! 1* V j! 'if II :[f;|. • 1 11; i6a X3ouncville'0 BDventuree trapper found, indeed, that he had no green girl to deal with ; for the knowing dame at once assumed the style and dignity of a trapper's wife, taking possession of the lodge as her undisputed empire ; arranging every- thing according to her own taste and habitudes ; and appearing as much at home, and on as easy terms with the trapper, as if they had been man and wife for years. We have already given a picture, of a free trapper and his horse, as furnished by Captain Bonneville ; we shall here subjoin, as a com- panion picture, his description of a free trap- per's wife, that the reader may have a correct idea of the kind of blessing the worthy hunter in question had invoked to solace him in the wilderness. ** The free trapper, while a bachelor, has no greater pet than his horse; but the moment he takes a wife (a sort of brevet rank in matri- mony occasionally bestowed upon some Indian fair one, like the heroes of ancient chivalry, in the open field), he discovers that he has a still more fanciful and capricious anintal on which to lavish his expenses. *' No sooner does an Indian belle experience this promotion, than all her notions at once rise and expand to the dignity of her situation ; and the purse of her lover, and his credit into B free (lrapper'0 TKAife 163 the bargain, are tasked to the utmost to fit her out in becoming style. The wife of a free trapper to be equipped and arrayed like any ordinary and undistinguished squaw ? Perish the grovelling thought 1 In the first place, she must have a horse for her own riding ; but no jaded, sorry, earth-spirited hack ; such as is sometimes assigned by an Indian husband for the transportation of his squaw and her pappooses: the wife of a firee trapper must have the most beautiful animal she can lay her eyes on. And then, as to his decoration : headstall, breast-bands, saddle, and crupper are lavishly embroidered with beads, and hung with thimbles, hawks' bells, and bunches of ribands. From each side of the saddle hangs an esquimoot^ a sort of pocket, in which she bestows the residue of her trinkets and knick- knacks, which cannot be crowded on the dec- oration of her horse or herself. Over this she folds, with great care, a drapery of scarlet and bright-colored calicoes, and now considers the caparison of her steed complete. **As to her own person, she is even sail more extravagant. Her hair, esteemed beau- tiful in proportion to its length, is carefully plaited, gnd made to fall with seeming negli- gence over either breast. Her riding hat is stuck full of parti-colored feathers ; her robe, i64 JDonncvllIc'd adventures i 'i. / '\i M fashioned somewhat after that of the whites, is of red, green, and sometimes gray cloth, but always of the finest texture that can be pro- cured. Her leggins and moccasins are of the most beautiful and expensive workmanship, and fitted neatly to the foot and ankle, which with the Indian women are generally well formed and delicate. Then as to jewelry : in the way of finger-rings, ear-rings, necklaces, and other female glories, nothing within reach of the trapper's means is omitted, that can tend to impress the beholder with an idea of the lady's high estate. To finish the whole, she selects from among her blankets of various dyes, one of some glowing color, and throwing it over her shoulders with a native grace, vaults into the saddle of her gay, prancing steed, and is ready to follow. her mountaineer * to the last gasp with love and loyalty.' " Such is the general picture of the free trap- per's wife, given by Captain Bonneville ; how far it applied in its details to the one in ques- tion does not altogether appear, though it would seem from the outset of her connubial career, that she was ready to avail herself of all the pomp and circumstance of her new con- dition. It is worthy of mention that, wher- ever there are several wives of free trappers in a camp, the keenest rivalry exists between th Cbridtmad in tbc TKlilDcrncdd 26s them, to the sore detriment of their husbands' purses. Their whole time is expended, and their ingenuity tasked by endeavors to eclipse each other in dress and decoration. The jealousies and heart-burnings thus occasioned among these, so styled, children of nature are equally intense with those of the rival leaders of style and fashion in the luxurious abodes of civilized life. The genial festival of Christmas, which throughout all Christendom lights up the fire- side of home with mirth and jollity, followed hard upon the wedding just described. Though far from kindred and friends. Captain Bonne- ville and his handful of free trappers were not disposed to suffer the festival to pass unen- joyed ; they were in a region of good cheer, and were disposed to be joyous ; so it was de- termined to "light up the yule clog," and celebrate a merry Christmas in the heart of the wilderness. On Christmas eve, accordingly, they began their rude fites and rejoicings. In the course of the night the free trappers surrounded the lodge of the Pierce-Nosed chief, and in lieu of Christmas carols, saluted him with 2, feu de joie, Kowsoter received it in a truly Christian spir't, and after a speech, in which he ex- rC6 J9onneviUc'0 B^venturcs in Ml- I I • :,1 i", ir ;i;i I: pressed his high gratification at the honor done him, invited the whole company to a feast on the following day. His invitation was gladly accepted. A Christmas dinner in the wigwam of an Indian chief ! There was novelty in the idea. Not one failed to be pres- ent. The banquet was served up in primitive style : skins of various kinds, nicely dressed for the occasion, were spread upon the ground ; upon these were heaped up abundance of veni- son, elk meat, and mountain mutton ; with various bitter roots, which the Indians use as condiments. After a short prayer, the company all seated themselves cross-legged, in Turkish fashion, to the banquet, which passed off with great hilarity. After which various games of strength and agility, by both white. men and Indians, closed the Christmas festivities. \ 111 Cbapter fit). A Hnnt after Hunters — Hungry Times — A Voracious Repast — Wintry Weather — Godin's River — Splen- did Winter Scene on the Great Lava Plain of Snake River — Severe Travelling and Tramping in the Snow — Manceuvres of a Solitary Indian Horseman — Encampment on Snake River — Banneck Indians —The Horse Chief— His Charmed Life. THE continued absence of Matthieu and his party had, by this time, caused great uneasiness in the mind of Captain Bonne- ville; and, finding there was no dependence to be placed upon the perseverance and cour- age of scouting parties, in so perilous a quest, he determined to set out himself on the search, and to keep on until he should ascertain some- thing of the object of his solicitude. Accordingly, on the 26th Deoember, he left the camp, accompanied by thirteen stark trap- pers and hunters, all well mounted and armed for dangerous enterprise. On the following morning they passed out at the head of the X67 i68 JBonncvillc'd BDventurea l;i \. li'i: !'■: r Hi >;:' ■ ,;!' I!; ■»l I!: mountain gorge, and sallied forth into the open plain. As they confidently expected a brush with the Blackieet, or some other preda- tory horde, they moved with great circum- spection, and kept vigilant watch in their encampments. In the course of another day they left the main branch of Salmon River, and proceeded south towards a pass called John Day's Defile. It was severe and arduous travelling. The plains were swept by keen and bitter blasts of wintry wind ; the ground was generally covered with snow, game was scarce, so that hunger generally prevailed in the camp, while the want of pasturage soon began to manifest itself in the declining vigor of the horses. The party had scarcely encamped on the afternoon of the 28th, when two of the hunt- ers who had sallied forth in quest of game came galloping back in great alarm. While hunting they had perceived a party of sav- ages, evidently manoeuvring to cut them off from the camp ; and nothing had saved them from being entrapped but the speed of their horses. These tidings struck dismay into the camp. Captain Bonneville endeavored to reassure his men by representing the position of their en- campment, and its capability of defense. He faj bi Ibungct in tbc Camp 169 then ordered the horses to be driven in and picketed, and threw up a rough breastwork of fallen trunks of trees, and the vegetable rub- bish of the wilderness. Within this barrier was maintained a vigilant watch throughout the night, which passed av/ay without alarm. At early dawn they scrutinized the surround- ing plain, to discover whether any enemies had been lurking about during the night ; not a foot-print, however, was to be discovered in the coarse gravel with which the plain was covered. Hunger now began to cause more uneasi- ness than the apprehensions of surrounding enemies. After marching a few miles they encamped at the foot of a mountain, in hopes of finding buffalo. It was not until the next day that they discovered a pair of fine bulls on the edge of the plain, among rocks and ravines. Having now been two days and a half without a mouthful of food, they took especial care that these animals should not escape them. While some of the surest marks- men advanced cautiously with their rifles into the rough ground, four of the best mounted horsemen took their stations in the plain, to run the bulls down should they only be maimed. The buffalo were wounded, and set off in I70 Xonncvillc*0 Bdventurc0 Mr 'II! headlong flight. The half- famished horses were too weak to overtake them on the frozen ground, but succeeded in driving them on the ice, where they slipped and fell, and were easi- ly dispatched. The hunters loaded themselves wilh beef for present and future supply, and then returned and encamped at the last night*s fire. Here they passed the remainder of the day, cooking, and eating with a voracity pro- portioned to previous starvation ; forgetting, in the hearty revel of the moment, the certain dangers with which they were environed. The cravings of hunger being satisfied, they now began to debate about their further pro- gress. The men were much disheartened by the hardships they had already endured. In- deed, two who had been in the rear-guard, tak- ing advantage of their position had deserted and returned to the lodges of the Nez Percys. The prospect ahead was enough to stagger the stoutest heart. They were in the drad of winter. As far as the eye could reach, the wild landscape was wrapped in snow ; which was evidently deepening as they advanced. Over this they would have to toil with the icy wind blov'ing in their faces ; their horses might give out through want of pasturage ; and they themselves must expect intervals of horrible famine like that they had already experienced. 'I I! : tntcnee ColD 171 With Capt'i Bonneville, however, perse- verance was G matter of pride ; and having undertaken this enterprise, nothing could turn him back until it was accomplished : though he declares that, had he anticipated the difficul- ties and sufferings which attended it, he should have flinched from the undertaking Onward, therefore, the little band urged their way, keeping along the course of a stream called John Day's Creek. The cold was so intense that they had frequently to dis- mount and travel on foot, lest they should freeze in their saddles. The days, which, at this season, are vshort enough even in the open prairies, were narrowed to a few hours by the high mountains, which allowed the travellers but a brief enjoyment of the cheering rays of the sun. The snow was, generally, at least twenty inches in depth, and in many places much more : those who dismounted had to beat their way with toilsome steps. Eight miles were considered a good day's journey. The horses were almost famished ; for the herbage was covered by the deep snow, so that they had nothing to subsist upon but scanty wisps of the dry bunch grass which peered above the surface, and the small branches and twigs of frozen willows and wormwood. In this way they urged their slow and pain- I! . ! < 11 '■■'I ml It i I' ' IF 272 Xonncvil{c*B BDventurcd ful course to the south down John Day's Creek, until it lost itself in a swamp. Here they en- camped upon the ice among stiffened willows, where they were obliged to beat down and clear away the snow to procure pasturage for their horses. Hence, they toiled on to Godin River ; so called after an Iroquois hunter in the service of Sublette, who was murdered there by the Blackfeet. Many of the features of this remote wilderness are thus named after scenes of vio- lence and bloodshed that occurred to the early pioneers. It was an act of filial vengeance on the part of Godin's son, Antoine, that, as the reader may recollect, brought on the recent battle at Pierre's Hole. From Godin's River, Captain Bonneville and his followers came out upon the plain of the Three Butes ; so called from three singular and isolated hills that rise from the midst. It is a part of the great desert of Snake River, one of the most remarkable tracts beyond the mountains. Could they have experienced a respite from their sufferings and anxieties, the immense landscape spread out before them was calculated to inspire admiration. Winter has its beauties and glories, as well as summer ; and Captain Bonneville had the soul to appre- ciate them. TIQltnter Scencri? 173 Far awaj% says he, over the vast plains, and up the steep sides of the lofty mountains, the snow lay spread in dazzling whiteness : and whenever the sun emerged in the morning above the giant peaks, or burst forth from among clouds in his mid-day course, moun- tain and dell, glazed rock and frosted tree, glowed and sparkled with surpassing lustre. The tall pines seemed sprinkled with a silver dust, and the willows, studded with minute icicles reflecting the prismatic rays, brought to mind the fairy trees conjured up by the caliph's story-teller, to adorn his vale of diamonds. The poor wanderers, however, nearly starved with hunger and cold, were in no mood to en- joy the glories of these brilliant scenes ; though they stamped pictures on their mem- ory which have been recalled with delight in more genial situations. Encamping at the west Bute, they found a place swept by the winds, so that it was bare of snow, and there was abundance of bunch grass. Here the horses were turned loose to graze throughout the night. Though for once they had ample pasturage, yet the keen winds were so intense that, in the morning, a mule was found frozen to death. The trappers gathered round and mourned over him as over a cherished friend. They feared their half- i •■:^ iiii 'f ii ii ' ' ■ ■ ; I ; ■if. '■ t r [ ■■: 1 r r K i ' iSIt :i ^^S I Si •*k-, 174 Xonncvil{c*e BDventurcd famished horses would soon share his fate, for there seemed scarce blood enough left in their veins to withstand the freezing cold. To beat the way farther through the snow with these enfeebled animals seemed next to impossible ; and despondency began to creep over their hearts when, fortunately, they discovered a trail made by some hunting party. Into this they immediately entered, and proceeded with less difficulty. Shortly afterward, a fine buffalo bull came bounding across the snow, and was instantly brought down by the hunters. A fire was soon blazing and crackling, and an ample repast soon cooked, and sooner dis- patched, after which they made some further progress and then encamped. One of the men reached the camp nearly frozen to death ; but good cheer and a blazing fire gradually re- stored life, and put his blood in circulation. Having now a beaten path; they proceeded the next morning with more facility ; indeed the snow decreased in depth as they receded from the mountains, and the temperature be- came more mild. In the course of the day, they discovered a solitary horseman hovering at a distance before them on the plain. They spurred on to overtake him ; but he was better mounted on a fresher steed, and kept at a wary distance, reconnoitring them with evident dis- B 'MtlD t>or0cman 175 trust ; the wild dress of the free trappers, their legg^ns, blanket, and cloth caps garnished with fur and topped off with feathers, even their very elf-locks and weather-bronz >d com- plexions, gave them the look of Indians rather than white men, and made him mistake them for a war party of some hostile tribe. After much manoeuvring, the wild horseman was at length brought to a parley ; but even then he conducted himself with the caution of a knowing prowler of the prairies. Dismount- ing from his horse, and using him as a breast- work, he levelled his gun across his back, and, thus prepared for defense like a wary cruiser upon the high seas, he permitted himself to be approached within speaking distance. He proved to be an Indian of the Banneck tribe, belonging to a band at no great distance. It was some time before he could be persuaded that he was conversing with a party of white men, and induced to lay aside his reserve and join them. He then gave them the interesting intelligence, that there were two companies of white men encamped in the neighborhood. This was cheering news to Captain Bonneville ; who hoped to find in one of them the long-sought party of Matthieu. Pushing forward, therefore, with renovated spirits, he reached Snake River by nightfall, and there fixed his encampment. 176 Xow\cvHlc*B Bdventurc0 • i rM t) ' '*i 1 1 iMt Early the next morning (13th January, 1833), diligent search was made about the neighbor- hood for traces of the reported parties of white men. An encampment was soon discovered, about four miles farther up the river ; in which Captain Bonneville, to his great joy, found two of Matthieu's men, from whom he learnt that the rest of his party would be there in the course of a few days. It was a matter of great pride and self-congratulation to Captain Bon- neville, that he had thus accomplished his dreary and doubtful enterprise ; and he deter- mined to pass some time in this encampment, both to wait the return of Matthieu, and to give needful repose to men and horses. It was, in fact, one of the most eligible and delightful wintering grounds in that whole range of country. The Snake River here wound its devious way between low banks through the great plain of the Three Butes ; and was bordered by wide and fertile meadows. It was studded with islands, which, like the alluvial bottoms, were covered with groves of cotton-wood, thickets of willow, tracts of good lowland grass, and abundance of green rushes. The adjacent plains were so vast in extent, that no single band of Indians could drive the buffalo out of them ; nor was the snow of sufficient depth to give any serious incon- Bncampmcnt on Snade Vivcv 177 venience. Indeed, during the sojourn of Cap- tain Bonneville in this neighborhood, which was in the heart of winter, he found the weather, with the exception of a few cold and stormy days, generally mild and pleasant ; freezing a little at night, but invariably thaw- ing with the morning's sun — resembling the spring weather in the middle parts of the United States. The lofty range of the Three Tetonj, those great landmarks of the Rocky Mountains, rising in the east, and circling away to the north and west of the great plain of Snake River ; and the mountains of Salt Eiver and Portneuf towards the south, catch the earliest falls of snow. Their white robes lengthen as the winter advances, and spread themselves far into the plain, driving the buffalo in herds to the banks of the river in quest of food ; where they are easily slain in great numbers. Such were the palpable advantages of this winter encampment ; added to which, it was secure from the prov/lings and plunderings of any petty band of roving Blackfeet ; the diffi^ culties of retreat rendering it unwise for those crafty depredators to venture an attack, unless with an overpowering force. About ten miles below the encampment lay the Banneck Indians ; numbering about one VOL. I.— la 178 JSonncviIle'0 BOventurcd I :■■ i I hundred and twenty lodges. They are brave and cunning warriors, and deadly foes of the Blackfeet, whom they easily overcome in bat- tles where their forces are equal. They are not vengeful and enterprising in warfare, how- ever ; seldom sending war parties to attack the Blackfeet towns, but contenting themselves with defending their own territories and house. About one third of their warriors are armed with fusees ; the rest with bows and arrows. As soon as the spring opens, they move down the right bank of Snake River, and en- camp at the heads of the Bois^e and Payette. Here their horses wax fat on good pasturage, while the tribe revels in plenty upon the flesh of deer, elk, bear, and beaver. They then de- scend a little farther, and are met by the I/)wer Nez Percys, with whom they trade for horses ; giving in exchange beaver, buffalo, and buffalo robes. Hence they strike upon the tributary streams on the left bank of Snake River, and encamp at the rise of the Portneuf and Black- foot streams, in the buffalo range. Their horses, although of the Nez Percd breed, are inferior to the parent stock, from being ridden at too early an age ; being often bought when but two years old, and immediately put to hard work. They have fewer horses, also, than most of these migratory tribes. Zbc tyovBc Cbict 179 At the time that Captain Bonneville came into the neighborhood of these Indians, they were all in mourning for their chief, sumamed The Horse. This chief was said to possess a charmed life, or rather, to be invulnerable to lead ; no bullet having ever hit him, though he had been in repeated battles, and often shot at by the surest marksmen. He had shown great magnanimity in his intercourse with the white men. One of the great men of his family had been slain in an attack upon a band of trappers passing through the territories of his tribe. Vengeance had been sworn by the Bannecks ; but The Horse interfered, declar- ing himself the friend of white men, and, hav- ing great influence and authority among his people, he compelled them to forego all vin- dictive plans, and to conduct themselves ami- cably whenever they came in contact with the traders. This chief had bravely fallen in resisting an attack made by the Blackfeet upon his tribe, while encamped at the head of the Godin River. His fall in nowise lessened the faith of his people in his charmed life ; for they declared that it was not a bullet which laid him lov/, but a bit of horn which had been shot into him by some Blackfoot marksman ; aware no doubt, of the inefficiency of lead. Since his death, II I I \' i8o J8oniievtUc'0 BDventurc0 there was no one with sufficient influence over the tribe to restrain the wild and predatory propensities of the young men. The conse- quence was, they had become troublesome and dangerous neighbors ; openly friendly, for the sake of traffic, but disposed to commit secret depredations, and to molest any small party that might fall within their reach. I! I =■' i^! IN: 11 " i ' '1 , 'r ■ Cbapter ixn. Misadvet^tures of Matthieu and his Party — Return to itio Caches at Salmon River — Battle between Nez Percys and Blackfeet — Heroism of a Nez I'^rc^ >Voman — Enrolled among the Braves. ON the 3d of February, Matthieu, with the residue of his band, arrived in camp. He had a disastrous story to relate. After parting with Captain Bonneville in Green River Valley, he had proceeded to the westward, keeping to the north of the Eu- taw Mountains, a spur of the great Rocky chain. Here he experienced the most rugged travelling for his horses, and soon discovered that there was but little chance of meeting the Shoshonie bands. He now proceeded along Bear River, a stream much frequented by trap- pers ; intending to shape his course to Salmon River, to rejoin Captain Bonneville. He was misled, however, either through the ignorance or treachery of an Indian guide, and 181 %2 JSonnevlIle'd BDventuree ! it ^ i{: > conducted into a "v\^ild valley, where he lay- encamped during the autumn and the early part of the winter, nearly buried in snow, and almost starved. Early in the season he de- tached five men, with nine horses, to proceed to the neighborhood of Sheep Rock, on Bear River, wh re game was plenty, and there to procure a supply for the camp. They had not proceeded far on their expedition, when their trail was discovered by a party of nine or ten Indians, who immediately commenced a lurk- ing pursuit, dogging them secretly for five or six days. So long as their encampments were well chosen, and a proper watch maintained, the wary savages kept aloof; at length, observ- ing that they were badly encr.mped, in a situa- tion where they might be approached with secrecy, the enemy crept stealthily along under cover of the river bank, preparing to burst suddenly upon their prey. Thfey had not advanced within striking dis- tance, however, before they were discovered by one of the trappers. He immediately, but silently, gave the alarm to his companions. They all sprang upon their horses, and pre- pared to retreat to a safe position. One of the party, however, iiamed Jennings, doubted the correctness of the alarm, and before he mounted his horse, wanted to ascertain the fact. His JCncountcr witb Indians 183 companions urged him to mount, but in vain ; he was incredulous and obstinate. A volley of fire-arms by the savages dispelled his doubts, but so overpowered his nerves that he was unable to get into his saddle. His comrades, seeing his peril and confusion, generously leapt from their horses to protect hira. A shot from a rifle brought him to the earth ; in his agony he called upon the others not to desert him. Two of them, I^e Roy and Ross, after fighting desperately, were captured by the savages ; the remaining two vaulted into their saddles, and saved themselves by headlong flight, being pursued for nearly thirty miles. They got safe back to Matthieu's camp^ where their story in- spired such dread of lurking Indians, that the hunters could not be prevailed upon to under- take another foray in quest of provisions. They remained, therefore, almost starving in their camp ; now and then killing an old or disabled horse for food, while the elk and the mountain sheep roamed unmolested among the surrounding mountains. The disastrous surprisal of this hunting party is cited by Captain Bonneville to show the importance of vigilant watching and judi- cious encampments in the Indian country. Most of this kind of disasters to traders and trappers arise from some careless inattention : iiil !i;l illi f" 184 JSonneville'd Bdvcnturcd to the state of their arms and ammunition, the placing of their horses at night, the position of their camping ground, and the posting of their night watches. The Indian is a vigilant and crafty foe ; by no means given to hare- brained assaults ; he seldom attacks when he finds his foe well prepared and on the alert. Caution is at least as efficacious a protection against him as courage. The Indians who made this attack were at first supposed to be Blackfeet ; until Captain Bonneville found, subsequently, in the camp of the Bannecks, a horse, saddle, and bridle, which he recognized as having belonged to one of the hunters. The Bannecks, however, stoutly denied 'having taken these spoils in fight, and persisted in affirming that the out- rage had been perpetrated by a Blackfoot band. Captain Bonneville remained on Snake River nearly three weeks after the arrival of Matthieu and his party. At length his horses hT-ving recovered strength sufficient for a journey, he prepared to return to the Nez Percys, or rather to visit his caches on Salmon River ; that he might take thence goods and equipments for the opening of the season. Accordingly, leav- ing sixteen men at Snake River, he set out on the 19th of February, with sixteen others, on his journey to the caches. \ f)arD6bipd ot tbe Aarcb 185 x^ording the river, he proceeded to the bor- ders of the deep snow, when he encamped under the lee of immense piles of burnt rock. On the 2ist he was again floundering through the snow, on the great Snake River plain, where it lay to the depth of thirty inches. It was sufficiently incrusted to bear a pedestrian ; but the poor horses broke through the crust, and plunged and strained at every step. So lacer- ated were they by the ice, that it was necessary "to change the front every hundred yards, and put a different one in the advance, to break the way. The open prairies were swept by a piercing and biting wind from the northwest. At night, they had to task their ingenuity to provide shelter and keep from freezing. In the first place, they dug deep holes in the snow, piling it up in ramparts to windward, as a pro- tection against the blast. Beneath these, they spread buffalo skins ; upon which they stretched themselves in full dress, with caps, cloaks, and moccasins, and covered themselves with numerous blankets ; notwithstanding all which, they were often severely pinched with the cold. On the 28th of February, they arrived on the banks of Godin River. This stream emerges from the mountains opposite an eastern branch of the Malade River, running southeast, forms Hi ft:' i;p m 1 !• '1 1 > ■ ' ' ' :< ■ : ■i ^ '■ ii ^ ii ''.'I !■* 1' ■:■: '•'' ii ':\' 1 i 'I 1 86 JBonneville'd BDventurcs a deep and swift current about twenty yards wJde, passing rapidly through a defile to which it gives its name, and then enters the great plain, where, after meandering about forty miles, it is finally lost in the region of the Burnt Rocks. On the banks of this river. Captain Bonne- ville was so fortunate as to come upon a buffalo trail. Following it up, he entered the defile, where he remained encamped for two days, to allow the hunters time to kill and dry a supply of buffalo beef. In this sheltered defile, the weather was moderate, and grass was already sprouting more than an inch in height. There was abundance, too, of the salt weed ; which grows most i^lentiful in clayey and gravelly barrens. It resembles pennyroyal, and derives its name from a partial saltness. It is a nour- ishing food for the horses in the winter, but they reject it the moment the young grass affords sufficient pasttirage. On the 6th of March, having cured sufficient meat, the party resumed their march, and moved on with comparative ease, excepting where they had to make their way through snow-drifts which had been piled up by the wind. On the nth, a small cloud of smoke was observed rising in a deep part of the defile. ■I ! JCIacUfcot Bmbudca^c 187 An encampment was instantly formed, and scouts were sent out to reconnoitre. They re- turned with intelligence that it was a hunting party of Flatheads, returning from the buffalo range laden with meat. Captain Bonneville joined them the next day, and persuaded them to proceed with his party a few miles below, to the -caches, whither he proposed also to invite the Nez Perces, whom he hoped to find some- where in this neighborhood. In fact, on the 13th, he was rejoined by that friendly tribe, v;ho, since he separated from them on Salmon River, had likewise been out to hunt the buffalo, but had continued to be haunted and harassed by their old enemies the Blackfeet, who, as usual, had contrived to carry off many of their horses. In the course of this hunting expedition, a small band of ten lodges separated from the main body, in search of better pasturage for their horses. About the ist of March, the scattered parties of Blackfoot banditti united to the number of three hundred fighting men, and determined upon some signal blow. Pro- ceeding to the former camping ground of the Nez Perc6s, they found the lodges deserted; upon which, they hid themselves among the willows and thickets, watching for some strag- gler, who might g^ide them to the present • * whereabout " of their intended victims. As rV 'i. ii'i^ ! r. Ill' iti! I m 1 ;l I 1 88 Xonncvi\\c*6 B^vcntures fortune would have it, Kosato, the Blackfoot renegade, was the first to pass along, accom- panied by his blood-bought bride. He was on his way from the main body of hunters to the little band of cen lodges. The Blackfeet knew and marked him as he passed ; he was within bow-shot of their ambuscade ; yet, much as they thirsted for his blood, they forbore, to launch a shaft ; sparing him for the moment, that he might lead them to their prey. Sepretly following his trail, they discovered the lodges of the unfortunate Nez Percys, and assailed them with shouts and yellings. The Nez Percys numbered only twenty men, and but nine were armed with fusees. They showed themselves, however, as brave and skilful in war as they had been mild and long-suflfering in peace. Their first care was to dig holes inside of their lodges ; thus ensconced, they fought desperately, laying several of the enemy dead upon the ground ; while they, though some of them were wounded, lost not a single warrior. During the heat of the battle, a woman of the Nez Percys, seeing her warrior badly wounded and unable to fight, seized his bow and arrows, and bravely and successfully de- fended his person, contributing to the safety of the whole party. In another part of the field of action, a Nez Sttacd on tbe Des pcxcie 189 Perc^ had crouched behind the trunk of a fallen tree, and kept up a galling fire from his covert. A Blackfoot seeing this, procured a round log, and placing it before him as he lay prostrate, rolled it forward towards the trunk of the tree behind which his enemy lay crouched. It was a moment of breathless interest : whoever first showed himself would be in danger of a shot. The Nez Perc^ put an end to the suspense. The moment the logs touched, he sprang upon his feet, and discharged the contents of his fusee into the back of his antagonist. By this time, the Blackfeet had got possession of the horses ; several of their warriors lay dead on the field, and the Nez Percys, ensconced in their lodges, seemed resolved to defend them- selves to the last gasp. It so happened that the chief of the Blackfeet party was a renegade from the Nez Percys : unlike Kosato, however, he had no vindictive rage against his native tribe, but was rather disposed, now he had got the booty, to spare all unnecessary effusion of blood. He had a long parley, therefore, with the besieged, and finally drew off his warriors, taking with him seventy horses. It appeared, afterwards, that the bullets of the Blackfeet had been entirely expended in the course of the battle, so that they were obliged to make use of stones as substitutes. ].'i •IM •it 4* I f'l n.(l !' ( 190 Xonncvilic*6 BOt^cuturcd At the outset of the fight, Kosato, the rene- gade, fought with fury rather than valor : ani- mating the others by word as well as deed. A wound in the head from a rifle ball laid him senseless on the earth. There his body re- mained when the battle was over, and the victors were leading off" the horses. His wife hung over him with frantic lamentations. The conquerors paused and urged her to leave the lifeless renegade, and return with them to her kindred. She refused to listen to their solicita- tions, and they passed on. As she sat watch- ing the features of Kosato, and giving way to passionate grief, she thought she perceived him to breathe. She was not mistaken. The ball, which had been nearly spent before it vStruck him, had stunned instead of killing him. By the ministry of his faithful wife, he gradually recovered ; reviving to a redoubled love for her, and hatred of his tribe. As to the female who had so bravely de- fended her husband,. she was elevated by the tribe to a rank far above her sex, and, beside other honorable distinctions, was thenceforward permitted to take a part in the war-dances of the braves ! 'J m Cbaptct f IDf f ♦ opening of the Caches — Detachment of Cerr^ and Hodgkiss — Salmon River Mountains — Superstition of an Indian Trapper — Godin's River — Preparations for Trappings — An Alarm — An Interruption — A Ri- val Band — Phenomena of Snake River Plain — Vast Clefts and Chasms — Ingulfed Streams — Sublime Scenery — A Grand Buffalo Hunt. CAPTAIN BONNEVILLE found his caches perfectly secure, and having secretly opened them, he selected such articles as were necessary to equip the free trap- pers, and to supply the inconsiderable trade with the Indians, after which he closed them again. The free trappers, being newly rigged out and supplied, were in high spirits, and swaggered gayly about the camp. To com- pensate all hands for past sufferings, and to give a cheerful spur to further operations. Cap- tain Bonneville now gave the men what, in frontier phrase, is termed " a regular blow out.** It was a day of uncouth gambols and I i ) t ■:iv §■ M'! ^i » '[^ I9t JSonneviUe'0 BDventures frolics, and rude feasting. The Indians joined in the sports and games, and all was mirth and good fellowship. It was now the middle of March, and Cap- tain Bonneville made preparations to open the spring campaign. He had pitched upon Ma- lade River for his main trapping ground for the season. This is a stream which rises among the great bed of mountains north of the lava plain, and, after a winding course, falls into Snake River. Previous to his departure, the captain dispatched Mr. Cerr^, with a fev; men, to visit the Indian villages and purchase horses ; he furnished his clerk, Mr. Hodgkiss, also with a small stock of goods, to keep up a trade with the Indians during the spring, for such peltries as they might collect, appointing the caches on Salmon River a? thf; point of rendezvous, where they were to rejoin him on the 15th of June following. This done, he set out for Malade River with a band of twenty-eight men, composed of hired and free trappers and Indian hunters, together with eight squaws. Their route lay up along the right fork of Salmon River, as it passes through the deep defile of the mountains. They travelled very slowly, not above five miles a day, for many of the horses were so weak that they faltered and staggered as they In^tan SuperdtUton «^ walked. Pasturage, however, was now grow- ing plentiful. There was abundance of fresh grass, which in some places had attained such height as to wave in the wind. The native flocks of the wilderness, the mountain sheep, as they are called by the trappers, were con- tinually to be seen upon the hills between which they passed, and a good supply of mut- ton was provided by the hunters, as they were advancing towards a region of scarcity. In the course of his journey, Captain Bonne- ville had occasion to remark an instance of the many notions, and almost superstitions, which prevail among the Indians, and among some of the white men, with respect to the sagacity of the beaver. The Indian hunters of his party were in the habit of exploring all the streams along which they passed, in search of "beaver lodges," and occasionally set their traps with some success. One of them, how- ever, though an experienced and skilful trap- per, w^as invariably unsuccessful. Astonished and mortified at such unusual bad luck, he at length conceived the idea, that there was some odor about his person, of w^hich the beaver got scent, and retreated at his approach. He im- mediately set about a thorough purification. Making a rude sweating house on the banks of the river, he would shut himself up until in VOL. I.— 13 '94 JSonneviUc'e Bdventuree i-' " iji I :li a reeking perspiration, and then suddenly emerging, would plunge into the river. A number of these sweatings and plungings hav- ing, as he supposed, rendered his person per- fectly "inodorous," he resumed his trapping with renovated hope. About the beginning of April, they encamped upon Godin's River, where they found the swamp full of * * muskrat houses. ' ' Here, therefore. Captain Bonneville determined to remain a few days and make his first regular attempt at trapping. That his maiden cam- paign might open with spirit, he promised the Indians and free trappers an extra price for every muskrat they should take. All now set to work for the next day's sport. The utmost animation and gayety prevailed throughout the camp. Everything looked auspicious for their spring campaign. The abundance of muskrats in the swamp was but an earnest of the nobler game they were to find when they should reach the Malade River, and have a capital beaver country all to themselves, where they might trap at their leisure without molestation. In the midst of their gayety, a hunter came galloping into the camp, shouting, or rather yelling, " A trail ! a trail ! — lodge poles ! lodge poles!'* IRival (Trappers 195 These were words full of meaning to a trn]>- jxjr's ear. The> iiitimated that there was some ])and in the neighborhood, and probably a hunting party, as they had lodge poles for an encampment. The hunter came up and told his story. He had discovered a fresh trail, in which the traces made by the dragging of lodge poles were distinctly visible. The buf- falo, too, had just been driven out of the nefghborhood, which showed that the hunters had already been on the range. The gayety of the camp was at an end ; all preparations for muskrat trapping were sus- pended, and all hands sallied forth to examine the trail. Their worst fears were soon con- firmed. Infallible signs showed the unknown party in the advance to be white men ; doubt- less, some rival band of trappers ! Here was competition when least expected ; and that, too, by a party already in the advance, who were driving the game before them. Captain Bonneville had now a taste of the sudden transitions to which a trapper's life is subject. The buoyant confidence in an uninterrupted hunt was at an end ; every countenance low- ered with gloom and disappointment. Captain Bonneville immediately dispatched two spies to overtake the rival party, and en- deavor to learn their plans ; in the meantime, 196 XonncvilWe Bdventurea Uji :i he turned his back upon the swamp and its muskrat houses, and followed on at "long camps," which, in trapper's language, is equivalent to long stages. On the 6th of April, he met his spies returning. They had kept on the trail like hounds, until they over- took the party at the south end of Godin's Defile. Here they found them comfortably encamped, twenty-two prime trappers, all well appointed, with excellent horses in capital condition, led by Milton Sublette and an able coadjutor, named Jarvie, and in full march for the Malade hunting ground. This was stunning news. The Malade River was the only trapping ground within reach ; but to have to compete there with veteran trappers, perfectly at home among the moun- tains, and admirably mounted, while they were so poorly provided with horses and trap- pers, and had but one man in their party ac- quainted with the country — it was out of the question ! The only hope that now remained, was that the snow, which still lay deep among the moun- tains of Godin River, and blocked up the usual pass to the Malade country^ might detain the other party, until Captain Bonneville's horses should get once more into good condition in their present ample pasturage. \v Snahe IRivct plain 197 IS The rival parties now encamped together, not out of companionship, but to keep an eye upon each other. Day after day passed by, without any possibility of getting to the Ma- lade country. Sublette and Jarvie endeavored to force their way across the mountain ; but the snows lay so deep as to oblige them to turn back. In the m^^antime, the captain's horses were daily gaining strength, and their hoofs improving, which had been worn and battered by mountain service. The captain, also, was increasing his stock of provisions, so that the delay was all in his favor. To any one who merely contemplates a map of the country, this difficulty of getting from Godin to Malade River will appear inexplica- ble, as the intervening mountains terminate in the great Snake River plain, so that, appar- ently, it would be perfectly easy to proceed round their bases. Here, however, occur some of the striking phenomena of this wild and sublime region. The great lower plain which extends to the feet of these mountains is broken up near their bases into crests and ridges, resembling the surges of the ocean breaking on a /ocky shore. In a line with the mountains, the plain is gashed with numerous and dangerous chasms, from four to ten feet wide, and of great depth. r. I9S J3onneville'0 Bdventuree if; I'i ' 1 ■ 'fl ./; '■% ,:fi ilik 1; ' .lit. Captain Bonneville attempted to sound some of these openings, but without any satisfactory result. A stone dropped into one of them re- verberated against the sides for apparently a very great depth, and, by its sound, indicated the same kind of substance with the surface, as long as the strokes could be heard. The horse, instinctively sagacious in avoiding dan- ger, shrinks back in alarm from the least of these chasms, pricking up his ears, snorting and pawing, until permitted to turn away. We have been told by a person well ac- quainted with the country, that it is some- times necessary to travel fifty and sixty miles, to get round one of these tremendous ravines. Considerable streams, like that of Godin's River, that run with a bold, free current, lose themselves in this plain ; some of them end in swamps, others suddenly disappear, finding, no doubt, subterranean outlets. Opposite to these chasms, Snake River makes tvvo desperate leaps over precipices, at a short distance from each other ; one twenty, the other forty feet in height. The volcanic plain in question forms an area of about sixty miles in diameter, where noth- ing meets the eye but a desolate and awful waste ; where no grass grows nor water runs, and where nothing is to be seen but lava. BScao Xava 199 Ranges of mountains skirt this plain, and, in Captain Bonneville's opinion, were formerly connected, until rent asunder by some convul- sion of nature. Far to the east, the Three Tetons lift their heads sublimely, and dominate this wide sea of lava ; — one of the most striking features of a wilderness where everything seems on a scale of stern and simple grandeur. We look forward with impatience for some able geologist to explore this sublime but almost unknown region. It was not until the 25th of April, that the two parties of trappers broke up their encamp- ments, and undertook to cross over the south- west end of the mountain by a pass explored by their scouts. From various points of the mountain they commanded boundless pros- pects of the lava plain, stretching away in cold and gloomy barrenness as far as the eye could reach. On the evening of the 26th, they reached the plain west of the mountain, watered by the Malade, the Bois6e, and other streams, which comprised the contemplated trapping ground. The country about the Bois^e (or Woody) River, is extolled by Captain Bonneville as the most enchanting he had seen in the Far West ; presenting the mingled grandeur and beauty of mountain and plain ; of bright running i)i 200 Xonncvi\lc*B Bdvcnturee ^ if.' :ll! ,(,. streams and vast grassy meadows waving to the breeze. We shall not follow the captain throughout his trapping campaign, which lasted until the beginning of June ; nor detail all the manoeu- vres of the rival trapping parties, and their various schemes to outwit and out-trap each other. Suffice it to say, that after having visited and camped about various streams with various success, Captain Bonneville set for- ward early in June for the appointed rendezvous at the caches. On the way, he treated his party to a grand buffalo hunt. The scouts had reported numerous herds in a plain beyond an intervening height. There was an immediate halt ; the fleetest horses were forthwith mounted, and the party advanced to the sum- mit of the hill. Hence they beheld the great plain below absolutely swarming with buffalo. Captain Bonneville now appointed the place where he would encamp ; and towards which the hunters were to drive the game. He cautioned the latter to advance slowly, reserv- ing the strength and speed of the horses, until within a moderate distance of the herds. Twenty-two horsemen descended cautiously into the plain, conformably to these directions. " It was a beautiful sight," says the captain, to see the runners, as they are called, advan- «i ■ Brrival at tbe Cacbea 201 cing in column, at a slow trot, until within two hundred and fifty yards of the outskirts of the herd, then dashing on at full speed, until lost in the immense multitude of buffaloes scouring the plain in every direction." All was nov/ tumult and wild confusion. In the meantime. Captain Bonneville and the residue of the party moved on to the appointed camp- ing ground ; thither the most expert runners succeeded in driving numbers of buffalo, which were killed hard by the camp, and the flesh transported thither without difficulty. In a little while the whole camp looked like one great slaughter-house ; the carcasses were skil- fully cut up, great fires were made, scaffolds erected for drying and jerking beef, and an ample provision was made for future subsist- ence. On the I5lh of June, the precise day appointed for the rendezvous, Captain Bonne- ville and his party arrived safely at the caches, Here he was joined by the other detachments of his main party, all in good health and spirits. The caches were again opened, supplies of vari- ous kinds taken out, and a liberal allowance of aqua vita distributed throughout the camp, to celebrate with proper conviviality this merry meeting. 'i 1 Ui' Hi' m ^ i Hi! I' 1 ]1 . - ■A- . i! n li'i If i' I '] Cbaptec flDf f f . Meeting with Hodgkiss— Misfortunes of the Nez Percys — Schemes of Kosato, the Renegado — His Foray into the Horse Prairie — Invasion of Blackfeet — Blue John, and his Forlorn Hope — ^Their Gener- ous Enterprise — ^Their Fate — Consternation and Despair of the Village — Solemn Obsequies — Attempt at Indian Trade — Hudson's Bay Company's Monoply — Arrangements for Autumn— Breaking up of an Encampment HAVING now a pretty strong party, well armed and equipped. Captain Bonne- • ville no longer felt the necessity of fortifying himself in the secret places and fast- nesses of the mountains; but sallied forth boldly into the Snake River plain, in search of his clerk, Hodgkiss, who had remained with the Nez Percys. He found him on the 24th of June, and learnt from him another chapter of misfortunes which had recently befallen that ill-fated race. After the departure of Captain Bonneville, in 202 ltodato'0 Schemes 2C3 March, Kosato, the renegade Black foot, had recovered from the wound received in battle ; and with his strength revived all his deadly hostility to his native tribe. He now resumed his efforts to stir up the Ncz Percys to repri- sals upon their old enemies ; reminding them incessantly of all the outrages and robberies they had recently experienced, and assuring them that such would continue to be their lot, until they proved themselves men by some sig- nal retaliation. The impassioned eloquence of the desperado at length produced an effect ; and a band of braves enlisted under his guidance, to penetrate into the Blackfoot country, harass their vil- lages, carry oflF their horses, and commit all kinds of depredations. Kosato pushed forward on his foray, as far as the Horse Prairie ; where he came upon a strong party of Blackfeet. Without waiting to estimate their force, he attacked them with characteristic fury, and was bravely seconded by his followers. The contest, for a time, was hot and bloody : at length, as is customary with these two tribes, they paused, and held a long parley, or rather a war of words. "What need," said the Blackfoot chief, tauntingly, "have the Nez Percys to leave their homes, and sally forth on war parties, 204 JSonncviUe'0 BDventure0 when thej' have danger enough at their own doors? If you want fighting, return to your villages ; you will have plenty of it there. The Blackfeet warriors hp.ve hitherto made war upon you as children. They are now com- ing as men. A great force is at hand ; they are on their way to your towns, and are de- termined to rub out the very name of the Nez Percys from the mountains. Return, I say, to your towns, and fight there, if you wish to live any longer as a people." Kosato took him at his word ; for he knew the character of his native tribe. Hastening back with his band to the Nez Perc6 village, he told all that he had seen and heard ; and urged the most prompt and strenuous meas- ures for defense. The Nez Percys, however, heard him with their accustomed phlegm : the threat of the Blackfeet had been often made, and fiS often had proved a mere bravado ; such they pronounced it to be at present, and, of course, took no precaution. They Wvre soon convinced that it was no empty menace. In a few days, a band of three hundred Blackfeet warriors appeared upon the hills. All now was consternation in the village. The force of the Nez Percys was too. small to cope with the enemy in open fight ; many of the young men having gone to their JSlue 5obn 205 relatives on the Columbia to procure horses. The sages met in hurned council. What was to be done to ward off a 'ow which threatened annihilation ? In this moment of imminent peril, a Pierced- Nose chief, named Blue John by the whites, offered to approach . secretly with a small but chosen band, through a de- file which led to the encampment of the enemy, and, by a sudden onset, to drive off the horses. Should this blow be successful, the spirit and strength of the invaders would be broken, and the Nez Percys, having horses, would be more than a match for them. Should it fail, the village would not be worse off than at present, when destruction seemed inevitable. Twenty-nine of the choicest warriors in- stantly volunteered to follow Blue John in this hazardous enterprise. They prepared for it with the solemnity and devotion peculiar to the tribe. Blue John consulted his medicine, or talismanic charm, such as every chief keeps in his lodge as a supernatural protection. The oracle assured him that his enterprise would be completely successful, provided no rain should fall before he had passed through the defile; but should it rain, bis band would be utterly cut off. The day was clear and bright ; and Blue John anticipated that the skies would be propitious. ! i 14 *1 i A III llo. I 1 ''fi I Pi hi ifil I! i 206 JSoimct»illc'0 BOvcntured He departed in high spirits with his forlorn hope ; and never did band of braves make a more gallant display— horsemen and horses be- ing decorated and equipped in the fiercest and most glaring style — glittering with arms and ornaments, and fluttering with feathers. The weather continued serene until they reached the defile ; but just as they were enter- ing it, a black cloud rose over the mountain crest, and there was a sudden shower. The warriors turned to their leader as if to read his opinion of this unlucky omen ; but the countenance of Blue John remained unchanged, and they continued to press forward. It was their hope to make their way, undiscovered, to the very vicinity of the Blackfoot camp ; but they had not proceeded far in the defile, when they met a scouting party of the enemy. They attacked and drove them among the hills, and were pursuing the^ with great eagerness, when they heard shouts and yells behind them, and be- held the main body of the Blackfeet advancing. The second chief wavered a little at the sight, and proposed an instant retreat. * * We came to fight!" replied Blue John, ster,nly. Then giving his war-whoop, he sprang forward to the conflict. His braves followed him. They made a headlong charge upon the enemy ; not with the hope of victory, but the determi- B f rtobtful Carnage 207 nation to sell their lives dearly. A frightful carnage rather than a regular battle, succeeded. The forlorn band laid heaps of their enemies dead at their feet, but were overwhelmed with numbers, and pressed into a gorge of the moun- tain, where they continued to fight until they were cut to pieces. One, only, of the thirty survived. He sprang on the horse of a Black- foot warrior whom he had slain, and escaping at full speed, brought home the baleful tidings to his village. Who can paint the horror and desolation of the inhabitants ? The flower of their warriors laid low, and a ferocious enemy at their doors. The air was rent by 'he shrieks and lamenta- tions of the women, who, casting off their ornaments, and tearing their hair, wandered about, frantically bewailing the dead, and pre- dicting destruction to the living. The remain- ing warriors armed themselves for obstinate defense ; but showed, by their gloomy looks and sullen silence, that they considered defense hopeless. To their surprise, the Blackfeet re- frained from pursuing their advantage ; per- haps satisfied with the blood already shed, or disheartened by the loss they had themselves sustained. At any rate, they disappeared from the hills, and it was soon ascertained that they had returned to the Horse Prairie. 3o8 J3onncviUc'0 BOventured III! '■I I!;' The unfortunate Nez Percds now began once more to breathe. A few of their warriors, taking pack-horses, repaired to the defile to bring away the bodies of their slaughtered brethren. They found them mere headless trunks ; and the wounds with which they were covered, showed how bravely they had fought. Their hearts, too, had been torn out and car- ried off; a proof of their signal valor; for in devouring the heart of a foe renowned for bravery, or who has distinguished himself in battle, the Indian victor thinks he appropriates to himself the courage of the deceased. Gathering the mangled bodies of the slain, and strapping them across their pack-horses, the warriors returned, in dismal procession, to the village. The tribe came forth to meet them ; the women with piercing cries and wailings ; the men with downcast countenances, in which gloom and sorrow seemed fixed as if in marble. The mutilated and almost undis- tinguishable bodies were placed in rows upon the ground, in the midst of the assemblage ; and the scene of heart-rending anguish and lamentations that ensued, would have cpn- founded those who insist on Indian stoicism. Such was the disastrous event that had over- whelmed the Nez Perc6 tribe, during the absence of Captain Bonneville; and he was Bttempt at Ztn^c -»09 informed that Kosato, the renegade, who, being stationed in the village, had been prevented from going on the forlorn hope, was again striving to rouse the vindictive feelings of his adopted brethren, and to prompt them to re- venge the slaughter of their devoted braves. During his sojourn on the Snake River plain, Captain Bonneville made one of his first essays at the strategy of the fur trade. There was at this time an assemblage of Nez Perces, Flat- heads, and Cottonois Indians, encamped to- gether upon the plain ; well provided with beaver, which they had collected during the spring. These they were waiting to traffic with a resident trader of the Hudson's Bay Company, who was stationed among them, and with whom they were accustomed to deal. As it happened, the trader was almost entirely destitute of Indian goods ; his spring supply not having yet reached him. Captain Bonne- ville had secret iuielligence that supplies were on their way, and would soon arrive ; he hoped, however, by a prompt move, to antici- pate their arrival, and secure the market to himself. Throwing himself, therefore, among the Indians, he opened his packs of merchan- dise, and displayed the most tempting wares ; bright cloths, and scarlet blankets, and glitter- ing ornaments, and everything gay and gloriou.j VOL. I.— 1/ 'Pi m 0:- ;,*' i i 210 JSonncY^UIe'd BDvcnturcs in the eyes of warrior or squaw ; all, however, wa's in vain. The Hudson's Bay trader was a perfect master of hi» business, thoroughly ac- quainted with the Indians he had to deal with, and held such control over them, that none dared to act openly in opposition to his wishes : nay, more — he came nigh turning the tables upon the captain, and shaking the allegiance of some of his free trappers, by distributing liquors among them. The latter, therefore, was glad to give up a competition, where the war was likely to be carried into his own camp. In fact, the traders of the Hudson's Bay Company have advantages over all competitors ill the trade beyond the Rocky Mountains. That huge monopoly centres within itself not merely its own hereditary and long-established power and influence ; but also those of its ancient rival, but now integral part, the famous Northwest Company. It has thus its races of traders, trappers, hunters, and voyageurSy born and brought up in its service, and inheriting from preceding generations* a knowledge and aptitude in everything connected with Indian life, and Indian traffic. In the process of years, this company has been enabled to spread its ramifications in every direction ; its system of intercourse is founded upon a long and inti- 'f)uD0Oird JSai? Compnnis'd Aonopoli? 211 mate knowledge of the character and necessi- ties of the various tribes ; and of all the fastnesses, defiles, and favorable hunting grounds of the country. Their capital, also, and the manner in which their supplies are distributed at various posts or forwarded by regular caravans, keep their traders well sup- plied, and enable them to furnish their goods to the Indians at a cheap rate. Their men, too, being chiefly drawn from the Canadas, where they enjoy great influence and control, are engaged at the most trifling wages, and sup- ported at little cost ; the provisions which they take with them being little more than Indian corn and grease. They were brought, also, into the most perfect discipline and subordina- tion, especially when their leaders have once got them to their scene of action in the heart of the wilderness. These circumstances combine to give the leaders of the Hudson's Bay Company a de- cided advantage over all the American compa- nies that come within their range ; so that any close competition with them is almost hopeless. Shortly after Captain Bonneville's ineffec- tual attempt to participate in the trade of the associated camp, the supplies of the Hudson's Bay Company arrived ; and the resident trader was enabled to monopolize the market. ^a ais JSonneviUe'd BDventured ^Si^f I 1 p It was now the beginning of July ; in the latter part of which month, Captain Bonne- ville had appointed a rendezvous at Horse Creek, in Green River Valley, with some of the parties which he had detached in the pre- ceding year. He now turned his. thoughts in that direction, and prepared for the journey. The Cottonois were anxious for him to pro- ceed at once to their country ; which, they as- sured him, abounded in beaver. The lands of this tribe lie immediately north of those of the Flatheads, and are open to the inroads of the Blackfeet. It is true, the latter professed to be their allies ; but they had been guilty of so many acts of perfidy, that the Cottonois had, latterly, renounced their hollow friend- ship, and attached themselves to the Flatheads and Nez Percys. These they had accompa- nied in their migrations, rather than remain alone at liome, exposed to the outrages of the Blackfeet. They were now apprehensive that these marauders would range their country during their absence, and destroy the beaver ; this was their reason for urging Captain Bonne- ville to make it his autumnal hunting ground. The latter, however, was not to be tempted ; his engagements required his presence at the rendezvous in Green River Valley, and he had already formed his ulterior plans. . Bn TIlnespecte^ DttSculti? 213 An unexpected difficulty now arose. The free trappers suddenly made a stand, and de- clined to accompany him. It was a long and weary journey ; the route lay through Pierre's Hole, and other mountain passes infested by the Blackfeet, and recently the scenes of san- guinary conflicts. They were not disposed to undertake such unnecessary toils and dangers, when they had good and secure trapping grounds nearer at hand, on the head-waters of the Salmon Piver. A.s these were free and independent fellows, whose will and whim "were apt to be law — who had tL lole wilderness before them, " where to cho^w'^, ' and the trader of a rival company at hand, ready to pay for their services — it was necessary to bend to their wishes. Captain Bonneville fitted them out, therefore, for the hunting ground in question, appointing Mr. Hodgkiss to act as their partisan, or leader, and fixing a rendezvous where he should meet them in the course of the ensuing winter. The brigade consisted of twenty-one free trappers, and four or five hired men as camp-keepers. This was not the exact arrangement of a trap- ping party ; which, when accurately organized, is composed of two thirds trappers, whose duty leads them continually abroad in pursuit of game ; and one third camp-keepers, who cook, m r^ — ; 214 JSoimevillc'd Bdrcntured I' ' ( , I pack, and unpack ; set up the tents, take care of the horses, and do all other duties usually assigned by the Indians to their women. This part of ^he service is apt to be fulfilled by French Creoles irom Canada and the valley of the Mis- sissippi. In the meantime, the associated Indians, having completed their trade and received their supplieJi, were all ready to dispense in various directions. As there was a formidable band of Black- feet just over a mountain to the northeast, byi which Hodgkiss and his free trappers would have to pass ; and as it was known that those sharp-sighted marauders had their scouts out, watching every movement of the encampments, so as to cut off stragglers or weak detachments, Captain Bonneville prevailed upon the Nez Perces to accompany Hodgkiss and his party, until they should be beyond the range of the enemy. The Cottonois and the Pends Oreilles deter- mined to move together at the same time, and to pass close under the mountain infested by the Blackfeet ; while Captain Bonneville, with his party, \vas to strike in an opposite direc- tion to the southeast, bending his course for Pierre's Hole, on his way to Green River. Accordingly, on the 6th of July, all the S>idpcr0fon ot tbe Camps 2IS camps were raised at the same moment, each party taking its separate route. The scene was wild and picturesque ; the long line of traders, trappers, and Indians, with their rugged and fantastic dresses and accoutrements ; their ^'^aried weapons, their innumerable horses, some under the saddle, some burdened with packages, others following in droves ; all stretching in lengthening cavalcades across the vast landscape, and making for dififerent points of the plains and mountains. ' Cbaptcr jfff • Precautions in Dangerous Defiles — ^Trappers* Mode of Defense on a Prairie — A Mysterious Visitor — Arrival in Green River Valley — ^Adventures of the Detachments — The Forlorn Partisan— His Tale of Disasters. AS the route of Captain Bonneville lay through what was considered the most perilous part of this region of dangers, he took all his measures with military skiL, and observed the strictest circumspection. When on the march, a small scouting pprty was thrown in the advance, to reconnoitre the country through which they were to pass. The encampments were selected with great care, and a watch was kept up night and day. The horses were b: ought in and picketed at night, and at daybreak a party was sent out to scour the neighborhood for half a mile round, beat- ing up every grove and thicket that could give shelter to a lurking foe. When all was re- ported safe, the horses were cast loose and ax6 Indian Aode of S>efen0C 217 turned out to graze. Were such precautions generally observed by traders and hunters, we should not so often hear of parties being sur- prised by the Indians. Having stated the military arrangements of the captain, we may here mention a mode of defense on the open prairie, which we have hs-ard from a veteran in the Indian trade. When a party of trappers is on a journey with a convoy of goods or peltries, every man has three pack-horses under his care, each horse laden with three packs. Every man is pro- vided witli a picket with an iron ^ad, a mal- let, and hobbles, or leathern fetters for the horses. The trappers proceed across the prai- rie in a long line ; or sometimes three parallel lines, sufficiently distant from each other to prevent the packs from interfering. At an alarm, when there is no covert at hand, the line wheels so as to bring the front to the i 'ar, . and form a circle. All then dismount, drive their pickets into the ground in the centre, fasten the horses to them, and hobble their forelegs, so that, in case of alarm, they cannot break away. They then unload them, and dispose of their packs as breastworks on the periphery of the circle, each man having nine packs behind which to shelter himself. In this promptly-formed fortress, they await the ii ' V' \,. llr ! ii < ! : frill Hi' ■ li ! 1 i I M 3I8 JSonnevtllc'd BDvcnturcd assault of the enemy, and are enabled to set large bands of Indians at defiance. The first night of his march, Captain Bonne- ville encamped upon Henry's Fork ; an upper branch of Snake River, called after the first American trader that erected a fort beyond the mountains. About an hour after all hands had come to a halt the clatter of hoofs was heard, and a solitary female, of the Nez Perc^ tribe, came galloping up. She was mounted on a mustang, or half-wild horse, which she man- aged by a long rope hitched round the under ^ jaw by way of bridle. Dismounting, she walked silently into the midst of the camp, and there seated herself on the ground, still hold- ing her horse by the long halter. The sudden and lonely apparition of this woman, and her calm, yet resolute demeanor, awakened universal curiosity. The hunters and trappers gathered round, and gazed on her as , something mysterious. She remained silent, but maintained her air of calmness and self-posses- sion. Captain Bonneville approached and in- terrogated her as to the object of her mysterious visit. Her answer was brief but earnest — * * I love the whites — I will go with them. ' ' She was forthwith invited to a lodge, of which she readily took possession, and from that time forward was considered one of the camp. Brrival at 6reen fRivct STQ Inconsequence, very probably, of the military precautions of Captain Bonneville, he conducted his party in safety through this hazardous region. No accident of a disastrous kind oc- curred, excepting the loss of a horse, which, in passing along the giddy edge of the precipice, called the Cornice, a dangerous pass between Jackson's and Pierre's Hole, fell over the brink and was dashed to pieces. On the 13th of July (1833), Captain Bonne- ville arrived at Green River. As he entered the valley, he beheld it strewn in every direc- tion with the carcasses of buffaloes. It was evident that Indians had recently been there, and in great numbers. Alarmed at this sight, he came to a halt, and soon as it was dark, sent out spies to his place of rendezvous on Horse Creek, where he had expected to meet with his detached parties of trappers on the following day. Early in the morning, the spies made their appearance in the camp, and with them came three trappers of one of his bands, from the rendezvous, who told him his people were all there expecting him. As to the slaughter among the buffaloes, it had been made by a friendly band of Shoshonies, who had fallen in with one of his trapping parties, and accompanied them to the rendezvous. Having imparted this intelligence, the three i J ■• q '•n\ m fda 1^ 290 Xom\cvi\\c*B Bdveiituree worthies from the rendezvous broached a small keg of ' ' alcohol, * ' which they had brought with them, to enliven this merry meeting. The liquor went briskly round ; all absent friends were toasted, and the party moved forward to the rendezvous in high spirits. The meeting of associated bands, who have been separated from each other on these hazard- ous enterprises, is always interesting ; each having its tale of perils and adventures to re- late. Such was the case with the various de- tachments of Captain Bonneville's company, thus brought together on Horse Creek. Here was the detachment of fifty men which he had sent from Salmon River, in the preceding month of November, to winter on Snake River. They had met with many crosses and losses in the course of their spring hunt, not so much from the Indians as from white men. They had come in competition with rival trapping parties, particularly one belonging to the Rocky Moun- tain Fur Company ; and they had long stories to relate of their manoeuvres to forestall or dis- tress each other. In fact, in these virulent and sordid competitions, the trappers of each party were more intent upon injuring their rivals, than benefiting themselves ; breaking each other's traps, trampling and tearing to pieces the beaver lodges, and doing everything in (Tales of Btdaeters 921 their power to mar the success of the hunt. We forbear to detail these pitiful contentions. The most lamentable tale of disasters, how- ever, that Captain Bonneville had to hear, was from a partisan, whom he had detached in the preceding year, with twenty men, to hunt through the outskirts of the Crow country, and on the tributary streams of the Yellowstone ; whence he was to proceed and join him in his winter quarters on Salmon River. This parti- san appeared at the rendezvous without his party, and a sorrowful tale of disasters had he to relate. In hunting the Crow country, he fell in with a village of that tribe ; notorious rogues, jockeys, and horse stealers, and errant scamperers of the mountains. These decoyed most of his men to desert, and carry off horses, traps, and accoutrements. When he attempted to retake the deserters, the Crow warriors ruf- fled up to him and declared the deserters were their good friends, had determined to remain among them, and should not be molested. The poor partisan, therefore, was fain to leave his vagabonds among these birds of their own feather, and, being too weak in numbers- to at- tempt the dangerous pass across the mountains to meet Captain Bonneville on Salmon River, he made, with the few that remained faithful to him, for the neighborhood of TuUock's Fort, li %? H E V 223 Xonncvi\lc*B Bdveiiturca on the Yellowstone, under the protection of which he went into winter quarters. He soon found out that the neighborhood of the fort was nearly as bad as the neighborhood of the Crows. His men were continually steal- ing away thither, with whatever beaver skins they could secrete or lay their hands on. These they would exchange with the hangers-on of the fort for whisky, and then revel in drunk- enness and debauchery. The unlucky partisan made another move. Associating with his party a few free trappers, whom he met with in this neighborhood, he started off early in the spring to trap on the head- waters of Powder River. In the course of the journey, his horses were so much jaded in traversing a steep mountain, that he was ir^duced to turn them loose to graze during the night. The place was lonely ; the path was rugged ; there was not the sign of an Indian in the neighborhood ; not a blade of grass that had been turned by a footstep. But who can calculate on security in the midst of an Indian country, where the foe lurks in silence and secrecy, and seems to come and go on the wings of the wind ? The horses had scarce been turned loose, when a couple of Arickara (or Rickaree) warriors entered the camp. They effected a frank and friendly demeanor ; but Brlckara Spica in Camp 223 their appearance and movements awakened the suspicions of some of the veteran trapjKTs, well versed in Indian wiles. Convinced that they were spies sent on some sinister errand, they took them into custody, and set to work to drive in the horses. It was too late — the horses had already gone. In fact, a war party of Arickaras had been hovering on their trail for several days, watching with the paience and perseverance of Indians, for some moment of negligence and fancied security, to nir.ke a successful swoop. The two spies had evidently been sent into the camp to create a diversion, while their confederates carried off the spoil. The unlucky partisan, thus robbed of his horses, turned furiously on his prisoners, or- dered them to be bound hand and foot, and swore to put them to death unless his property were restored. The robbers, who soon found that their spies were in captivity, now made their appearance on horseback, and held a parley. The sight of them, mounted on the very horses they had stolen, set the biood of the mountaineers in a ferment ; but it was useless to attack them, as they would have but to turn their steeds and scamper out of the reach of pedestrians. A negotiation was now attempted. The Arickaras oifered what they considered fair terms ; to barter one horse, or :f ip ]\: > : 'i 1 I Bi St; i :l ii -Uij if! ii: }„: Ii:' 224 Xonncviilc*e B^vcntntee even two horses, for a prisoner. The moun- taineers spurned at their offer, and declared that, unless all the horses were relinquished, the prisoners should be burnt to death. To give force to their threats, a pyre of logs and fagots were heaped up and kindled into a blaze. The parley continued ; the Arickaras released one horse and then another, in earnest of their proposition ; finding, however, that nothing short of the relinquishment of all their spoils , would purchase the lives of the captives, they abandoned them to their fate, moving off with many parting words and lamentable bowlings. The prisoners seeing them depart, and know- ing the horrible fate that awaited them, made a desperate effort to escape. They partially succeeded, but were severely wounded and re- taken ; then dragged to the blazing pyre, and burnt to death in the sight of their retreating comrades. Such are the savage cruelties that white men learn to practise, who mingle in savage life : and such are the acts that lead to terrible recrimination on the part of the Indians. Should we hear of any atrocities committed by the Arickaras upon captive white men, let this signal and recent provocation be borne in mind. Individual cases of the kind dwell in the recol- m^ ^be Tanluchi? partisan 23S lections of whole tribes ; and it is a point of honor and conscience to revenge them. The loss of his horses completed the ruin of the unlucky partisan. It was out of his power to prosecute his hunting, or to maintain his party ; the only thought now was how to get back to civilized life. At the first watercourse, his men built canoes, and committed them- selves to the stream. Some engaged themselves at various trading establishments at which they touched, others got back to the settlements. As to the partisan, he found an opportunity to make his way to the rendezvous at Green River Valley ; which he reached in time to render to Captain Bonneville this forlorn account of his misadventures. VOL. 1.— IS ■t n ,1 : ' ^H m i .•'':■ HI' : i ! i I! Cbaptcr f f • Gathering in Green River Valley — Visitings and Peast- ings of Iveaders — Rough Wassailing among the Trap- pers — ^Wild Blades of the Mountains— Indian Belles — ^Potency of Bright Beads and Red Blankets — Arrival of Supplies — Revelry and Extravagance — Mad Wolves — The Lost Indian. THE Green River Valley was at this time the scene of one of those general gath- erings of traders, trappers, and Indians, that we have already mentioned. The three rival companies, which, for a year past had been endeavoring to out-trade, out-trap, and out-wit each other, were here encamped in close proximity, awaiting their annual sup- plies. About four miles from the rendezvous of Captain Bonneville was that of tie American Fur Company, hard by which, was that also of the Rocky Mountain Fur Company. After the eager rivalry and almost hostility displayed by these companies in their late cam- 226 ■■o..al\c^ 227 paigns, it might be expected that, when thus brought in juxtaposition, they would hold themselves warily and sternly aloof from each other, and should they happen to come in con- tact, brawl and bloodshed would ensue. No such thing ! Never did rival lawyers, after a wrangle at the bar, meet with more social good humor at a circuit dinner. The hunting season over, all past tricks and ma- noeuvres are forgotten, all feuds and bickerings buried in oblivion. From the middle of June to the middle of September, all trapping is suspended ; for the beavers are then shedding their furs, and their skins are of little value. This, then, is the trapper's holiday, when he is all for fun and frolic, and ready for a satur- nalia among the mountains. At the present season, too, all parties were in good humor. The j^ear had been productive. Competition, by threatening to lessen their profits, had quickened their wits, roused their energies, and made them turn every favorable chance to the best advantage ; so that, on as- sembling at their respective places of rendez- vous, each company found itself in possession of a rich stock of peltries. The leaders of the diflferent companies, there- fore, mingled on terms of perfect good fellow- ship ; interchanging visits, and regaling each ii! i 3i m i 228 JSonncvfllc'0 BdvctUures i^-- i i' other in the best style their respective camps afTonled. But the rich treat for the worthv captain was to see the *' chivalry " of the vari- ous encampments, engaged in contests of skill at running, jumping, wrestling, shooting with the rifle, and runi.ing horses. And then their rough hunters' feastings and carousals. They drank together, they sang, they laughed, they whooped ; they tried to outbrag and outlie each other in stories of their adventures and achievements. Here the free trappers were in all their glory ; they considered themselves the " cocks of the walk," and always carried the highest crests. Now and then familiarity was pushed too far, and would effervesce into a brawl, and a " rough and tumble " fight ; but it all ended in cordial reconciliation and maud- lin endearment. The presence of the Shoshonie tribe contri- buted occasionally to cause temporary jealousies and feuds. The Shoshonie beauties became objects of rivalry among some of the amorous mountaineers. Happy was the tiapper who could muster up a red blanket, a string of gay beads, or a paper of precious vermilion, with which to win the smiles of a Shoshonie fair one. , The caravans of supplies arrived at the valley just at this period of gallantry and good fellow- in '1.»! "^cvcU^ and J6itrava0ancc 229 ship. Now commenced a scene of eager com- petition and wild prodigality at the different encampments. Bales were hastily ripped open, and their motley contents poured forth. A mania for purchasing spread itself throughout the several bands — munitions for war, for hunting, for gallantry, were seized upon with e'^ual avidity — rifles, hunting knives, traps, scarlet cloth, red blankets, gairish beads, and glittering trinkets, were bought at any price, and scores run up without any thought how they were ever to be rubbed off. The free trappers, especially, were extravagant in their purchases. For a free mountaineer to pause at a paltry consideration of dollars and cents, in the attainment of any object that might strike his fancy, would stamp him with the mark of the beast in the estimation of his comrades. For a trader to refuse one of these free and flourishing blades a credit, whatever unpaid scores might stare him in the face, would be a flagrant affront scarcely to be forgiven. Now succeeded another outbreak of revelry and extravagance. The trappers were newly fitted out and arrayed, and dashed about with their horses caparisoned in Indian style. The Shoshonie beauties also flaunted about in all the colors of the rainbow. Every freak of :|j i i\ !i; V) I ii. 'lil| 236 Xonnevillc*B BOventured purity and transparency of the atmosphere in this region, allowing objects to be seen, and the report of fire-arms to be heard, at an aston- ishing distance ; and its extreme dryness, causing the wheels of wagons to fall in pieces, as instanced in former passages of this work, are proofs of the great altitude of the Rocky Mountain plains. That a body of salt water should exist at such a height, is cited as a singular phenomenon by Captain Bonneville, though the salt lake of Mexico is not much inferior in elevation.* To have this lake properly explored, and all its secrets revealed, was the grand scheme of the captain for the present year ; and while it was one in which his imagination evidently took a leading part, he believed it would be attended with great profit, from the numerous beaver streams with which the lake must be fringed. This momentous undertaking he confided to his lieutenant, Mr. Walker, in whose experi- ence and ability he had great confidence. He * The lake of Tezcuco, which surrounds the city of Mexico, the largest and lowest of the five lakes on the Mexican plateau, and one of the most impregnated with saline particles, is seven thousand four hundred and sixty-eight feet, or nearly one mile and a half above the level of the sea. M £xplor(n0 parti; 237 instructed him to keep along the shores of the lake, and trap in all the streams on his route ; also to keep a journal, and minutely to record the events of his journey, and every- thing curious or interesting, making maps or charts of his route, and of the surrounding country. No pains nor expense were spared in fitting out the party of forty men, which he was to command. They had complete supplies for a year, and were to meet Captain Bonneville in the ensuing summer, in the valley of Bear River, the largest tributary of the Salt Lake, which was to be his point of general rendez- vous. The next care of Captain Bonneville, was to arrange for the safe transportation of the pel- tries which he had collected, to the Atlantic States. Mr. Robert Campbell, the partner of Sublette, was at this time in the rendezvous of the Rocky Mountain Fur Company, having brought up their supplies. He was about to set off on his return, with the peltries collected during the year, and intended to proceed through the Crow country, to the head of navigation on the Bighorn River, and to de- scend in boats down that river, the Missouri, and the Yellowstone, to St. Louis. Captain Bonneville determined to forward ¥ 1 5 I \ wk m 238 JSonncvillc'6 BOrcnturca his peltries by the same route, under the es- pecial care of Mr. Cerr6. By way of escort, he would accompany Cerr^ to the point of em- barkation, and then make an autumnal hunt in the Crow country ■ fii 1 . Cbapter f ri f . The Crow Country — A Crow Paradise — Habits of the Crows — Anecdotes of Rose, the Renegade White Man — His Fights with the Blackfeet — His Eleva- tion — His Death — Arapooish, the Crow Chief— His Eagle — Adventure of Robert Campbell — Honor among Crows. BEFORE we accompany Captain Bonne- ville into the Crow country, we will impart a few facts about this wild re- gion, and the wild people who inhabit it. We are not aware of the precise boundaries, if there are any, of the country claimed by the Crows ; it appears to extend from the Black Hills to the Rocky Mountains, including a part of their lofty ranges, and embracing many of the plains and valleys watered by the Wind River, the Yellowstone, the Powder River, the Little Missouri, and the Nebraska. The coun- try varies in soil and climate ; there are vast plains of sand and clay, studded with large red sand-hills ; other parts are mountainous 239 III: ■isi •A 240 JSonneville'd BOventured :i: W: and picturesque ; it possesses warm springs, and coal mines, and abounds with game. But let us give the account of the country, as rendered by Arapooish, a Crow chief, to Mr. Robert Campbell, of the Rocky Mountain Fur Company. "The Crow country," said he, " is a good country. The Great Spirit has put it exactly in the right place ; while you are in it you fare well ; whenever you go out of it, which- ever way you travel, you fare worse. " If you go to the south, you have to wander over great barren plains ; the water is warm and bad, and you meet the fever and ague. *' To the north it is cold ; the winters are long and bitter, with no grass ; you cannot keep horses there, but must travel with dogs. What is a country without horses ? ' ' On the Columbia they are poor and dirty, paddle about in canoes, and eat fish. Their teeth are worn out ; they are always taking fish-bones out of their mouths. Fish is poor food. " To the east, they dwell in villages; they live well ; but they drink the muddy water of the Missouri — that is bad. A Crow's dog would not drink such water. " About the forks of the Missouri is a fine country ; good water ; good grass ; plenty of Zbe Creu Countri? 241 buffalo. In summer it is almost as good as the Crow country ; but in winter it is cold ; the grass is gone ; and there is no salt weed for the horses. "The Crow country is exactly in the right place. It has snowy mountains and sunny plains ; all kinds of climates, and good things for every season. When the summer heats scorch the prairies, you can draw up under the mountains, where the air is sweet and cool, the grass fresh, and the bright streams come tumbling out of the snow-banks. There you can hunt the elk, the deer, and the antelope, when their skins are fit fof dressing ; there you will find plenty of white bears and moun- tain sheep. "In the autumn, when j^our horses are fat and strong from the mountain pastures, you can go down into the plains and hunt the buf- falo, or trap beaver on the streams. Aiid when winter comes on, you can take shelter in the woody bottoms along the rivers ; there you will find buffalo meat for yourselves, and cot- ton-wood bark for your horses ; or you may wintef in the Wind River Valley, where there is salt weed in abundance. "The Crow country is exactly in the right place. Everything gjod is to be found there. There is no country like the Crow country." VOL. I.— 16 H I k i 242 XonncvKlc*B BDrenturcd 1 ■J! 1 m t: 1 Such is the eulogium on his country by Arapooish. We have had repeated occasions to speak of the restless and predatory habits of the Crows. They can muster fifteen hundred fighting men ; but their incessant wars with the Blackfeet, aud their vagabond, predatory habits, are gradually wearing them out. In a recent work, we related the circumstance of a white man named Rose, an outlaw, and a designing vagabond, who acted as guide and niterpreter to Mr. Hunt and his party, on their journey across the mountains to Astoria, who came near betraying them into the hands of the Crows, and who remained among the tribe, marrying one of their women, and adopting their congenial habits.* A few anecdotes of the subsequent fortunes of that renegade may not be uninteresting, especially as they are con- nected with the fortunes of the tribe. RovSe was powerful in frame and fearless in spirit ; and soon by his daring deeds took his rank among the first braves of the tribe. He aspired to c(ymmand, and knew it was only to be attiined by desperate exploits. He distin- guished himself in repeated actions v/ith the Blackfeet. On one ///casion, a band of those savages had fortifif-d themselves within a * See Astoria. . tRoec tbe Outlaw 243 breastwork, and could not be harmed. Rose proposed to storm the work. " Who will take the lead? " was the demand. ** I ! " cried he and putting himself at their head, rushed for- ward. The first Blackfoot that opposed him he shot down with his rifle, and, snatching up the war-club of his victim, killed four others within the fort. The victory was complete, and Rose returned to the Crow village covered with giory, and bearing five Blackfoot scalps, to be erected as a trophy before his lodge. From this time, he was known among the Crows by the name of Chp-ku-kaats, or ' ' the man who killed five. * ' He became chief of the village, or rather band, and for a time was the popular idol. His popularity soon awakened envy among the native braves ; he was a stran- ger, an intruder, a white man. A party seceded from his command. Feuds and civil wars suc- ceeded that lasted for two or three years, until Rose, having contrived to set his adopted brethren by the ears, left them, and went down the Missouri in 1823. Here he fell in with one of the earliest tiapping expeditions sent by General Ashley across the mountains. It was conducted by Smith, Fitzpatrick, aiid Sublette. Rose enlisted with them as guide and inter- preter. When he got them among the Crows, he was exceedingly generous with their goods ; St. ■ iM 244 IDonncx^fllc'i^ Bdventtircs making presents to the braves of his adopted tribe, as became a high-minded chief. This, doubtless, helped to revive his popu- larity. In that expedition, Smith and Fitz- patrick were robbed of their horses in Green River Valley ; the place where the robbery took place still bears the name of Honse Creek. We are not informed whether the horses were .stolen through the instigation and management of Rose ; it is not improbable, for such was the perfidy he had intended to practise on a former cjccasion towards Mr. Hunt and his party. The last anecdote we have of Rose is from an Indian trader. When General Atkinson made his military expedition up the Missouri, in 1825, to protect the fur trade, he held a con- ference with the Crow nation, at which Rose figured as Indian dignitary and Crow inter- preter. The military were stationed at some little distance from the scene of the ** big talk " ; w^hile the general and the chiefs were smoking pipes and making speeches, the officers, sup- posing all was friendly, left the troops, and drew near the scene of ceremonial. Some of the more knowing Crows, perceiving this, stole quietly to camp, and, unobserved, contrived to stop the touch-holes of the field-pieces with dirt. Shortly after, a misunderstanding oc- curred in the conference ; some of the Indians, lli^- 1R06C*6 pOUCI? 245 knowing the cannon to be useless, became in- solent. A tumult arose. In the confusion, Colonel O' Fallon snapped a pistol in the lace of a brave, and knocked him down with the butt end. The Crows were all in a fury. A chance-medley fight was on the point of taking place, when Rose, his natural sympathies as a white man suddenlj^ recurring, broke the stock of his fusee over the head of a Crow warrior, and laid so vigorously about him with the bar- rel, that he soon put the whole throng to flight. I^uckily, as no lives had been lost, this sturdy rib-roasting calmed the fury of the Crows, and the tumult ended without serious consequences. What was the ultimate fate of this vagabond hero is not distinct!)^ known. Some report him to have fallen a victim to disease, brought on bv his licentious life ; others assert that he w^as murdered in a feud among the Crows. After all, his residence among thee' savages, and the influence he acquired over them, had, for a time, some beneficial effects. He is said, not merely to have rendered them more formidable to the Blackfeet, but to have opened their eyes to the policy of cultivating the friendship of the white men. After Rose's death, his policy ccntinued to be cultivated, with indifferent success, by Arapooisli, the chief already mentioned, who :M. 3 si 346 JSonneville'd 'B^vcntntce W\ 'I'i I ': : hi'! I Ui.i i . 1 , . Jin had been his great fnond, and whose character he had contributed to develop. This sagacious chief endeavored, on every occasion, to restrain the predatory propensities of his tribe when directed against the white men. " If we keep friends with them," said he, " we have nothing to fear from the Black feet, and can rule the mountains." Arapooish pretended to be a great "medicine man" ; a character among the Indians which is a compound of priest, doc- tor, prophet, and conjuror. He carried about with him a tame eagle, as his " medicine " or familiar. With the white men, he acknowl- edged that this was all charlatanism ; but said it was necessary, to give him weight and influ- ence among his people. Mr. Robert Campbell, from whom we have most of these facts, in the course of one of his trapping expeditions, was quartered in the vil- lage of Arapooish, and a guest in the lodge of the chieftain. He had collected a large quan- tity of furs, and, fearful of being plundered, deposited but a part in the lodge of the chief; the rest he buried in a cac/ie. One night, Ara- pooish came into the lodge with a cloudy brow, and seated himself for a time without saying a word. At length, turning to Campbell, **You have more furs with you," said he, ** than you have brought into my lodge ?" (( It 1 J*- Campbcire B^pe^ture 247 <( << I have," replied Campbell. Where are they?" Campbell knew the uselessness of any pre- varication with an Indian ; and the importance of complete frankness. He described the exact place where he had concealed his peltries. " 'T is well," replied Arapooish ; " you speak straight. It is just as you say. But your cache has been robbed. Go and see how many skins have been taken from it." Campbell examined the cache, and estimated his loss to be about one hundred and fifty beaver skins. Arapooish now summoned a meeting of the village. He bitterly reproached his people for robbing a stranger who had confided to their honor ; and commanded that whoever had taken the skins, should bring them back ; declaring that, as Campbell was his guest and inmate of his lodge, he would not eat nor drink until every skin was restored to him. The meeting broke up, and every one dis- persed. Arapooish now charged Campbell to give neitlier reward nor thanks to any one who should bring in the beaver skins, but to keep count as thej^ were delivered. In a little while, the skins began to make their appearance, « few at a time; they were^ laid down in the lodge, and those who brought -t' \ 4* !rt h ii"i ;SM :H;i !' ifii ii: ^1:fl^ If! 248 JScnncvlUc'a BDrcnturca them departLcl itliout saying a word. The day passed away. Arapooish sat in one cur- lier of his lodge, wrapped up in his robe, scarcely moving a muscle of his countenance. When night arrived, he demanded if all the skins had been brought in. Above a hundred had been given up, and Campbell expressed himself contented. Not so the Crow chieftain. He fasted all that night, nor tasted a drop of water. In the morning, .some more skins were brought in, and continued to come, one and two at a time, throughout the day ; until but a few were wanting to make the number com- plete. Campbell was now anxious to put an end to this ft sting of the old chief, and declared that he wa;i TJerfectly satisfied. Arapooish demanded whiit number of skins were yet wanting. O 5 being told, he whispered to some of his people, who disappeared. After a time the number were brought in, though it was evident they were not any of the skins that had been stolen, but others gleaned in the vil- lage. , ** Is all right now?" demanded Arapooish. " All is right," replied Campbell. * * Good ' Now bring me meat and drink ! ' * When they were alone together, Arapooish had a conversation with his guest. v ''When you come another time among the ■' ?■: fyonot among Crow 249 Crows," said he, "don't hide yoir gotxls; trust to them and they will not wroii^ you. Put your goods in the Icxlge of a chief, and they are sacred ; hide them in a cacAc, and any one who finds them will steal them. My peo- ple have now given up your goods io^ my sake ; but there are some foolish yoin^ en in the village, who may be disposea )uble- some. Don't linger, therefore, L . your horses and be off." Campbell took his advice, and made his way safely out of the Crow country. He has ever since maintained, that the Crows are not so black as they are paint jd. "Trust to their honor," says he, " and you are safe ; trust to their honesty, and they will steal the hair off of your head." Having given these few preliminary particu- lars, we will resume the course of our narrative. IMAGE EVALUATION TEST TARGET (MT-3) 1.0 I.I 11.25 VilM lu ■^ Itt 12.2 £! 1^ 12.0 I LA. 11.6 Photographic Sciences Corporation 23 WEST MAIN STHET WIBSTIR.N.Y. MSSO (71«)t72-4S03 ^\ 4 o V ^^% o^ (J c\ IP m Cbaptcr f f f f f • Departure from Green River Valley — Popo Agie — Its Course — The Rivers into which it Runs — Scenery of the Bluffs— The Great Tar Spring— Volcanic Tracts in the Crow Country — Burning Mountain of Powder River — Sulphur Springs — Hidden Fires — Colter's Hell— Wind River— Campbell's Party— Fitzpatrick and his Trappers — Captain Stewart, an Amateur Traveller — Nathaniel Wyeth— Anecdotes of his Expedition to the Far West — Disaster of Campbell's Party— A Union of Bands—The Bad Pass — ^The Rapids — Departure of Fitzpatrick — Em- barkation of Peltries — ^Wyeth and his Bull Boat — Adventures of Captain Bonneville in the Bighorn Mountains — Adventures in the Plain — Traces of In> dians — Travelling Precautions — Dangers of Making a Smoke — ^The Rendezvous. ON the 25th of July, Captain Bonneville struck his tents, and set out on his route for the Bighorn, at the head of a party of fifty six men, including those who were to embark with Cerrfe. Crossing the Green River Valley, he proceeded along the south point of the Wind River range of mountains, and soon 250 do\ sou pos nor Zbe popo B0fe 251 fell upon the track of Mr. Robert CanipDell s party, which had preceded him by a day. This he pursued, until he perceived that it led down the banks of the Sweet Water to the southeast. As this was different from his pro- posed direction, he left it ; and turning to the northeast, soon came upon the waters of the Popo Agie. This stream takes its rise in the Wind River Mountains. Its name, like most Indian names, is characteristic. Pofio, in the Crow language, signifying head ; and ^^ic, river. It is the head of a long river, extending from the south end of the Wind River Moun- tains in a northeast direction, until it falls into the Yellowstone. Its course is generally through plains, but is twice crossed by chains of mountains ; the first called the Littlehorn, the second, the Bighorn. After it has forced its way through the first chain, it is called the Horn River ; after the second chain, it is called the Bighorn River. Its passage through this last chain is rough and violent; making re- peated falls, and rushing down long and furious rapids, which threatened destruction to the navigator ; though a hardy trapper is said to have shot down them in a canoe. At the foot of these rapids, is the head of navigation ; where it was the intention of the parties to construct boats, and embark. 252 J9onneville'0 SOvcntures I P I'ii ■'ji"! Proceeding down along the Popo Agie, Cap- tain Bonneville came again in full view of the "Bluffs," as they are called, extending from the base of the Wind River Mountains far away to the east, and presenting to the eye a confusion of hills and cliffs of red sandstone, some peaked and angular, some round, some broken into crags and precipices, and piled up in fantastic masses ; but all naked and sterile. There appeared to be no soil favorable to vege- tation, nothing but coarse gravel ; yet, over ail this isolated, barren landscape, were diffused such atmospherical tints and hues, as to blend the whole into harmony and beauty. In this neighborhood, the captain made search for the ** Great Tar Spring," one of the wonders of the mountains ; the medicinal properties of which, he had heard extravagantly lauded by the trappers. After a toilsome search, he found it at the foot of a sand-bluff, a little to the east of the Wi; River Moun- tains ; where it exuded in a small stream of the color and consistenc ' of tar. The men im- mediately hastened to collect a quantity of it to use as an ointment for the galled backs of their horses, and as a balsam for their own pains and aches. From the description given of it, it is evidently the bituminous oil, called petroleum or naphtha, which forms a principal Vlatural CurioeUfea 253 ingredient in the potent medicine called British Oil. It is found in various parts of Europe and Asia, in several of the West India islands, and in some places of the United States. In the State of New York, it is called Seneca Oil, from being found near the Seneca I^ake. The Crow country has other natural curiosi- ties, which are held in superstitious awe by the Indians, and considered great marvels by the trappers. Such is the burning mountain, on Powder River, abounding with anthracite coal. Here the earth is hot and cracked ; in many places emitting smoke and sulphurous vapors, as if covering concealed fires. A volcanic tract of similar character is found on Stinking River, one of the tributaries of the Bighorn, which takes its unhappy name from the odor derived from sulphurous springs and streams. This last-mentioned place was first discovered by Colter, a hunter belonging to Lewis and Clarke's exploring party, who came upon it in the course of his lonely wanderings, and gave such an account of its gloomy terrors, its hid- den fires, smoking pits, noxious streams, and the all-pervading "smell of brimstone," that it received, and has ever since retained among trappers, the name of *' Colter's Hell ! " Resuming his descent along the left bank of the Popo Agie, Captain Bonneville soon reached 254 Xonncviilc'B Ubvcnxwcs iii ' ■ the plains ; where he found several large streams entering from the west. Among these was Wind River, which gives its name to the mountains among which it takes its rise. This is one of the most important streams of the Crow country. The river being much swollen, Captain Bonneville halted at its mouth, and sent out scouts to look for a fording place. While thus encamped, he beheld in the course of the afternoon, a long line of horsemen de- scending the slope of the hills on the opposite side of the Popo Agie. His first idea was, that they were Indians ; he soon discovered, however, that they were white men, and, by the long line of pack-horses, ascertained them to be the convoy of Campbell, which, having descended the Sweet Water, was now on its way to the Horn River. The two parties came together two or three days afterwards, on the 4th of August, after having passed through the gap of the Little- horn Mountain. In company with Campbell's convoy, was a trapping party of the Rocky Mountain Company, headed by Fitzpatrick ; who, after Campbell's embarkation on the Big- horn, was to take charge of all the horses, and proceed on a trapping campaign. There were, moreover, two chance companions in the rival camp. One was Captain Stewart of the Brit- Aeettng witb CanipbcU 255 ish army, a gentleman of noble connections, who was amusing himself by a wandering tour in the Far West ; in the course of which, he had lived in hunter's style ; accompanying various bands of traders, trappers, and Indians ; and manifesting that relish for the wilderness that belongs to men of game and spirit. The other casual inmate of Mr. Campbell's camp was Mr. Nathaniel Wyeth ; the self-same leader of the band of New England salmon fishers, with whom we parted company in the valley of Pierre's Hole, after the battle with the Blackfeet. A few days after that affair, he again set out from the rendezvous in company with Milton Sublette and his brigade of trap- pers. On his march, he visited the battle ground, and penetrated to the deserted fort of the Blackfeet in the midst of the wood. It was a dismal scene. The fort was strewed with the mouldering bodies of the slain ; while vultures soared aloft, or sat brooding on the trees around ; and Indian dogs howled about the place, as if bewailing the death of their masters. Wyeth travelled for a considerable distance to the southwest, in company with Milton Sublette, when they separated ; and the former, with eleven men, the remnant of his band, pushed on for Snake River; kept down the course of that eventful stream ; ^1 1:: M n m 5. / ■ ( !■ . !■ % . :':.( 356 JSonnei^flle'e Bdventuree traversed the Blue Mountains, trapping beaver occasionally by the way, and finally, after hardships of all kinds, arrived, on the 29th of October, at Vancouver, on the Columbia, the main factory of the Hudson's Bay Company. He experienced hospitable treatment at the hands of the agents of that company ; but his men, heartily tired of wandering in the wil- derness, or tempted by other prospects, re- fused, for the most part, to continue any longer in his service. Some set oflf for the Sandwich Islands ; some entered into other employ. Wyeth found, too, that a great part of the goods he had brought with him were unfitted for the Indian trade; in a word, his expedi- tion, undertaken entirely on his own resources, proved a failure. He lost everything invested in it, but his hopes. These were as strong as ever. He took note of everything, therefore, that could be of service to him in the further prosecution of his project ; collected all the information within his reach, and then set off, accompanied by merely two men, on his re- turn journey across the continent. He had got thus far, *' by hook and by crook," a mode in which a New England man can make his way all over the world, and through all kinds of difficulties, and was now bound for Boston, in full confidence of being able to form a com- Sleaater ot Campbeira parti? 257 pany for the salmon fishery and fur trade of the Columbia. The party of Mr. Campbell had met with a disaster in the course of their route from the Sweet Water. Three or four of the men, who were reconnoitring the country in the advance of the main body, were visited one night in their camp, by fifteen or twenty Shoshonies. Considering this tribe as perfectly friendly, they received them in the most cordial and confiding manner. In the course of the night, the man on guard near the horses fell sound asleep ; upon which a Shoshonie shot him in the head, and nearly killed him. The sav- ages then made off with the horses, leaving the rest of the party to find their way to the main body on foot. The rival companies of Captain Bonneville and Mr. Campbell, thus fortuitously brought together, now prosecuted their journey in great good fellowship, forming a joint camp of about a hundred men. The captain, howevei, began to entertain doubts that Fitzpatrick and his trappers, who kept profound silence as to their future movements, intended to hunt the same grounds which he had selected for his autumnal campaign, which lay to the west of the Horn River, on its tributary streams. In the course of his march, therefore, he secretly detached vot. I.— 17 358 JSonneviUe'0 Bdvcnturee h i\i iii' r', -i a small party of trappers, to make their way tn those hunting grounds, while he continued on with the main body ; appointing a rendezvous, at the next full moon, about the 28th of Au- gust, at a place called the Medicine Lodge. On reaching the second chain, called the Big- horn Mountains, where the river forced its im- petuous way through a precipitous defile, with cascades and rapids, the travellers were obliged to leave its banks, and traverse the mountains by a rugged and frightful route, emphatically called the " Bad Pass." Descending the oppo- site side, they again made for the river banks ; and about the middle of August reached the point below the rapids where the river becomes navigable for boats. Here Captain Bonneville detached a second party of trappers, consisting of ten men, to seek and join those whom he had detached while on the route, appointing for them the same rendezvous (at the Medicine lyodge), on the 28th of August. All hands now set to work to construct " bull boats," as they are technically called ; a light, fragile kind of bark, characteristic of the ex- pedients and inventions of the wilderness ; being formed of buffalo skins, stretched on frames. They are sometimes, also, called skin boats. Wyeth was the first ready ; and, with his usual promptness and hardihood, launched Departure of #lt3patrfcfi 259 his frail bark, singly, on this wild and hazard- ous voyage, down an almost interminable suc- cession of rivers, winding through countries teeming with savage hordes. Milton Sublette, his former fellow-traveller, and his companion in the battle scenes of Pierre's Hole, took pas- sage in his boat. His crew consisted of two white men and two Indians. We shall hear further of Wyeth, and his wild voyage, in the course of our wanderings about the Far West. The remaining parties soon completed their several armaments. That of Captain Bonne- ville was composed of three bull boats, in which he embarked all his peltries, giving them in charge of Mr. Cerr^, with a party of thirty-six men. Mr. Campbell took command of his own boats, and the little squadrons were soon glid- ing down the bright current of the Bighorn. The secret precautions which Captain Bonne- ville had taken, to throw his men first into the trapping ground west of the Bighorn, were, probably, superfluous. It did not appear that Fitzpatrick had intended to hunt in that direc- tion. The moment Mr. Campbell and his men embarked with the peltries, Fitzpatrick took charge of all the horses, amounting to above a hundred, and struck off to the east, to trap upon Littlehom, Powder, and Tongue rivers. He was accompanied by Captain Stewart, who '' It' 260 JSonncvillc'd B^venturea :'/'. ! was desirous of having a range about the Crow country. Of tlie adventures they met with in that region of vagabonds and horse stealers, we shall have something to relate hereafter. Captain Bonneville being now left to prose- cute his trapping campaign without rivalry, set out, on the 17th of August, for the rendez- vous at Medicine Lodge. He had but four men remaining with him, and forty-six horses to take care of ; with these he had to make his way over mountain and plain, through a ma- rauding, horse-stealing region, full of peril for a numerous cavalcade so slightly manned. He addressed himself to his difficult journey, how- ever, with his usual alacrity of spirit. In the afternoon of his first day's journey, on drawing near to the Bighorn Mountain, on the summit of which he intended to encamp for the night, he obser\'ed, to his disquiet, a cloud of smoke rising from its base. He came to a halt, and watched it anxiously. It was very irregular ; sometimes it would almost die away ; and then would mount up in heavy volumes. There was, apparently, alargepart''- encamped there ; probably, some ruffian horde of Blackfeet. At any rate, it would not do for so small a number of men, with so numerous a cavalcade, to venture within sight of any wan- dering tribe. Captain Bonneville and his ,ii TCravellirtd precautions 261 companions, therefore, avoided this dangerous neighborhood, and, proceedin'j with extreme caution, reached the summit of the mountain, apparently without being discovered. Here they found a deserted Black foot fort, in which they ensconced themselves ; disposed of every- thing as s :curely as possible, and passed the night without molestation. Early the next morning they descended the south side of the mountain into the great plain extending between it and the Littlehorn range. Here they soon came upon numerous footprints, and the carcasses of buffaloes ; by which they knew there must be Indians not far off. Cap- tain Bonneville now began to feel solicitude about the two small parties of trappers which he had detached ; lest the Indians should have come upon them before they had united their forces. But he still felt more solicitude about his own party ; for it was hardly to be ex- pected he could traverse these naked plains undiscovered, when Indians were abroad ; and should he be discovered, his chance would be a desperate one. Everything now depended upon the greatest circumspection. It was dangerous to discharge a gun, or light a fire, or make the least noise, where such quick- eared and quick-sighted enemies were at hand. In the course of the day they saw indubitable \i, 2C2 Xonncvillc*e SDventure^ !-.i ti' hi ! signs that the buffalo had been roaming there in great numbers, and had recently been frightened away. That night they encamped with the greatest care ; and threw up a strong breastwork for their protection. For the two succeeding days they pressed forward rapidly, but cautiously, across the great plain ; fording the tributary streams of the Horn River ; encamping one night among thickets ; the next, on an island ; meeting, repeatedly, with traces of Indians ; and now and then, in passing through a defile, experi- encing alarms that induced them to cock their rifles. On the last day of their march hunger got the better of their caution, and they shot a fine buffalo bull at the risk of being betrayed by the report. They did not halt to make a meal, but carried the meat on with them to the place of rendezvous, the Medicine Lodge, where they arrived safely, in the evening, and celebrated their arrival by a hearty supper. The next morning they erected a strong pen for the horses, and a fortress of logs for them- selves ; and continued to observe the greatest caution. Their cooking was all done at mid- day when the fire makes no glare, and a moderate smoke cannot be perceived at any great distance. In the mOrning and evening. Brrii^al ot S)etacbnient0 263 when the wind is lulled, the smoke rises per- pendicularly in a blue column, or floats in light clouds above the tree-tops, and can be discovered from afar. In this way the little party remained for several days, cautiously encamped, until, on the 29th August, the two detachments they had been expecting, arrived together at the rendezvous. They, as usual, had their several tales of adventures to relate to the captain, which we will furnish to the reader in the next chapter. 1^: hi liiMii ,:-] ■ '•' I 1^ ; i i-Mw if p- '^L ': .1: '. i . IK. ; ! Ili . ' ; ||[i-!i Cbapter f n V. Adventures of the Party of Ten — The Balaatnite Mule —A Dead Point— The Mysterious Elks— A Night ' Attack — ^A Retreat — Travelling under an Alarm-^ A Joyful Meeting — Adventures of the Other Party — A Decoy Elk — Retreat to an Island — A Savage Dance of Triumph — Arrival at Wind River, THE adventures of the detachment of ten are the first m order. These trappers, when they separated from Captain Bonneville at the place where the furs were embarked, proceeded to the foot of the Big- horn Mountain, and having encamped, one of them mounted his mtde and went out to set his trap in a neighboring stream. He had not proceeded far when his steed came to a full stop. The trapper kicked and cudgelled, but to every blow and kick the mule snorted and kicked up, but still refused to budge an inch. The rider now cast his eyes warily around in search of some cause for this demur, when, to his dismay, he discovered an Indian fort within 264 (Tbc trrappcr'0 "Report 265 gunshot distance, lowering through the twi- light. In a twinkling he wheeled about ; his mule now seemed as eager to get on as himself, and in a few moments brought him, clattering with his traps, among his comrades. He was jeered at for his alacrity in retreating ; his re- port was treated as a false alarm ; his brother trappers contented themselves with reconnoi- tring the fort at a distance, and pronounced that it was deserted. As night set in, the usual precaution, enjoined by Captain Bon- neville o|i his men, was observed. The horses were brought in and tied, and a guard stationed over them. This done, the men wrapped themselves in their blankets, stretched themselves before the fire, and being fatigued with a long day's march, and gorged with a hearty supper, were soon in a profound sleep. The camp fires gradually died away ; all was dark and silent ; the sentinel stationed to watch the horses had marched as far, and supped as heartily as any of his companions, and while they snored, he began to nod at his post. After a time, a low trampling noise reached his ear . He half opened his eyes, and beheld two or three elks moving about the lodges, picking, and smelling, and grazing here and there. The sight of elk withir the purlieus of the camp caused some little sur- ^^^vl5^' 366 JSonnevillCa nbvcntwcB m \' prise ; but, having had his supper, he cared not for elk meat, and, suffering them to graze about unmolested, soon relapsed into a doze. Suddenly, before daybreak, a discharge of fire-arms, and a struggle and tramp of horses, made every one to start to his feet. The first move was to secure the horses. Some we:^ gone ; others were struggling, and kicking and trembling, for there was a horrible uproar of whoops, and yells, and fire-arms. Several trappers stole quietly from the ciamp, and suc- ceeded in driving in the horses which had broken away ; the rest were tethered still more strongly. A breastwork was thrown up of sad- dles, baggage, and camp furniture, and all hands waited anxiously for daylight. The Indians, in the meantime, collected on a neigh- boring height, kept up the most horrible clamor, in hopes of striking a panic into the camp, or frightening off the horses. When the day dawned, the trappers attacked them briskly and drove them to some distance. A desultory firing w^as kept up for an hour, when the Indians, seeing nothing was to be gained, gave up the contest and retired. They proved to be a war party of Blackfeet, who, while in search of the Crow tribe, had fallen upon the trail of Captain Bonneville on the Popo Agie, and dogged him to the Bighorn ; Cbatige of "Route 267 of but had been completely baffled by his vigi- lance. They had then waylaid the present detachment, and were actually housed in per- fect silence within their fort, when the mule of the trapper made such a dead point. The savages went off uttering the wildest denunciations of hostility, mingled with op- probrious terms in broken English, and ges- ticulations of the most insulting kind. In this m^lee, one white man was wounded, and two horses were killed. On preparing the morning's meal, however, a number of cups, knives, and other articles w^re missing, which had, doubtless, been carried off by the fictitious elk, during the slumber of the very sagacious sentinel. As the Indians had gone off in the direction which the trappers had intended to travel, the latter changed their route, and pushed forward rapidly through the "Bad Pass," nor halted until night ; when, supposing themselves out of the reach of the enemy, they contented themselves with tying up their horses and posting a guard. They had scarce laid down to sleep, when a dog strayed into the camp with a small pack of moccasins tied upon his back ; for dogs are made to carry burdens among the Indians. The sentinel, more knowing than he of the preceding night, awoke his companion J : 5'^ '1, *1.' I ■ , j- 1 ' I V. I if' a68 JSonneviUe'0 Bdventures and reported the circumstance. It was evident that Indians were at hand. All were instantly at work ; a strong pen was soon constructed for the horses, after completing which, they resumed their slumbers with the composure of men long inured to danger. In the next night, the prowling of dogs about the camp, and various suspicious noises, showed that Indians were still hovering about them. Hurrying on by long marches, they at length fell upon a trail, which, with the expe- rienced eye of a veteran woodman, they soon discovered to be that of the party of trappers detached by Captain Bonneville when on his march, and which they were sent to join. They likewise ascertained from various signs, that this party had suflFered some maltreatment from the Indians. They now pursued the trail with intense anxiety ; it carried them to the banks of the stream called the Gray Bull, and down along its course, until they came to where it empties into the Horn River. Here, to their great joy, they discovered the comrades of whom they were in search, all strongly fortified, and in a state of great watchfulness and anxiety. We now take up the adventures of this first detachment of trappers. These men, after part- ing with the main body under Captain Bonne- ville, had proceeded slowly for several days up B Decoi? Bill 26g the course of the river, trapping beaver as they went. One morning, as they were about to visit their traps, one of the camp-keepers pointed to a fine elk, grazing at a distance, and requested them to shoot it. Three of the trap- pers started off for the purpose. In passing the thicket, they were fired upon by some sav- ages in ambush, and at the same time, the pretended elk, throwing off his hide and horn, started forth an Indian warrior. One of the three trappers, had been brought down by the volley ; the others fled to the camp, and all hands, seizing up whatever they could carry off, retreated to a small island in the river, and took refuge among the willows. Here they were soon j oined by their comrade who had fallen , but who had merely been wounded in the neck. In the meantime, the Indians took possession of the deserted camp, with all the traps, ac- coutrements, and Horses. Wiiile they w^ere busy among the spoils, a solitary trapper, who had been absent at his work, came sauntering to the camp with his traps on his back. He had approached near by, when an Indian came forward and motioned him to keep away ; at the same moment, he was perceived by his comrades on the island, and warned of his dan- ger with loud cries. The poor fellow stood for a moment, bewildered and aghast, then drop- I 1] 'i \' i 270 JSonncvi.lc'0 'BbvcntixvcB pin^ his traps, wheeled and made off at full speed, quickened by a sportive volley which the Indians rattled after him. In high good humor with their easy triumph, the savages now formed a circle round the fire and performed a war dance, with the unlucky trappers for rueful spectators. This done, em- boldened by what they considered cowardice on the part of the white men, they neglected their usual mode of bush-fighting, and advanced openly within twenty paces of the willows. A sharp volley from the trappers brought them to a sudden halt, and laid three of them breathless. The chief, who had stationed himself on an emi- nence to direct all the movements of his people, seeing three of his warriors laid low, ordered the rest to retire. They immediately did so, and the whole band soon disappeared behind a point of woods, carrying off with them the horses, traps, and the greater part of the baggage. It was just after this misfortune, that the party of ten men discovered this forlorn band of trap- pers in a fortress, which they had thrown up after their disaster. They were so perfectly dismayed, that they could not be induced even to go in quest of their traps, which they had set in a neighboring stream. The two parties now joined their forces, and made their way, without further misfortune, to the rendezvous. Brrtval at Tmind 'River 871 Captain Bonneville perceived from the reports of these parties, as well as from what he had observed himself in his recent march, that he was in a neighborhood teeming with danger. Two wandering Snake Indians, also, who visited the camp, assured him that there wei e two large bands of Crows marching rapidly upon him. He broke up his encampment, therefore, on the ist of September, made his way to the south, across the Littlehorn Moun- tain, until he reached Wind River, and then turning westward, moved slowly up the banks of that stream, giving time for his men to trap as he proceeded. As it was not in the plan of the present hunting campaign to go near the caches on Green River, and as the trappers were in want of traps to replace those they had lost, Captain Bonneville undertook to visit the caches^ and procure a supply. To accompany him in this hazardous expedition, which would take him through the defiles of the Wind River Mountains, and up the Green River Valley, he took but three men ; the main party were to continue on trapping up towards the head of Wind River, near which he was to rejoin them, just about the place where that stream issues from the mountains. We shall accompany the captain on his adventurous errand. I !!' Cbaptcr JfflD* Captain Bonneville Sets Out for Green River Valley- Journey up the Popo Agie — Bufifaloes — The Staring White Bears— The Smoke— The Warm Springs— At- tempt to Traverse the Wind River Mountains— The Great Slope — Mountain Dells and Chasms — Crystal Lakes — ^Ascent of a Snowy Peak — Sublime Prospect — A Panorama — " Les Dignes de Pitie," or Wild Men of the Mountains. HAVING forded Wind River a little above its mouth, Captain Bonneville and his three companions proceeded across a gravelly plain, until they fell upon the Popo Agie, up the left bank of which they held their course, nearly in a southerly direction. Here they came upon numerous droves of buffalo, and halted for the purpose of procuring a supply of beef. As the hunters were stealing cautiously to get within shot of the game, two small white bears suddenly presented them- selves in their path, and, rising upon their hind legs, contemplated them for some time, with a i 3Buiraloe0 a73 whimsically solemn gaze. The hunters re- mained motionless ; whereupon the bears, hav- ing apparently satisfied their curiosity, lowered themselves upon all fours, and began to with- draw. The hunters now advanced, upon which the bears turned, rose again upon their haunches, and repeated their serio-comic ex- amination. This was repeated several times, until the hunters, piqued at their unmannerly staring, rebuked it with a discharge of their rifles. The bears made an awkward bound or two, as if wounded, and then walked off" with great gravity, seeming to commune together, and every no\v and then turning to take another look at the hunters. It was well for the latter that the bears were but half grown, and had not yet acquired the ferocity of their kind. The buffalo were somewhat startled at the report of the fire-arms ; but the hunters suc- ceeded in killing a couple of fine cows, and, having secured the best of the meat, continued forward until some time after dark, when, en- camping in a large thicket of willows, they made a great fire, roasted buffalo beef enough for half a score, disposed of the whole of it with keen relish and high glee, and then "turned in " for the night and slept soundly, like weary and well-fed hunters. At daylight they were in the saddle agai:i, VOL. I.— 18 M V I V if \ , '\ j ! ^! ■ ) i* > * ( ■ r '' 274 JSonncrlUc'0 Bdventurcd m ii& ij^jiMi ;:f fill T'll 1 ^iii and skirted along the liver, passing tliroug?i fresh grassy meadows, and a succession of l)eantiful groves of willows and cotton- wootl. Towards evening, Captain Bonneville observed a smoke at a distance rising from among hills, directly in the route he was pursuing. Appre- hensive of some hostile band, he concealed the horses in a thicket, and, accompanied by one of his men, crawled cautiously up a heif^ht, from which he could overlook the scene of dan ger. Here, with a spy-glass, he reconnoitred the surrounding country, but not a lodge nor fire, not a man, horse, nor dog was to be dis- covered ; in short, the smoke which had caused such alarm proved to be the vapor from several warm, or rather hot springs of considerable magnitude, pouring forth streams in every direction over a bottom of white clay. One of the springs was about twenty-five yards in diameter, and so deep that the water was of a bright green color. They were now advancing diagonally upon the chain of Wind River Mountains, which lay between them and Green River V^jjllev. To coast round their southern points weald be a wide circuit ; whereas, could they force their way through them, they might proceed in a straight line. The mountains were lofty, with snowy 2>eaks and cragged sides ; it was hoped, Hbe (Brcat Slope 575 however, that some practicable defile mij;ht be found. They attcmpUd if^cormngly, lo pene- trate the mountains by foUowing np one of the branches of the Popo Agie, but s( 011 found themselves in the midst of si nend( us crags cud precipices that barred all ] rogress. Re- tr icing their steps, and falling bi ck upon the river, they consulted where to make another attempt. They were too close bei eath the mountains to scan them generally, but they now recollected having noticed, from tht- plain, a beautiful slope, rising, at an angle 01 about thirty degrees, and apparently without any break, until it reached the snowy rt^ion. Seeking this gentle acclivity, they began to ascend it with alacrity, trusting to find at the top one of those elevated plains which prevail among the Rocky Mountains. The slope ^ vas covered with coarse gravel, interspersed with plates of freestone. They attained the summit with some toil, but found, instead of a level, or rather undulating plain, that they were on the brink of a deep and precipitous ravine, from the bottom of which rose a second slope, similar to the one they had just ascended. Down into this profound ravine they made tlifcir way by a rugged path, or rather fissure of the rocks, and then labored up the second slope. They gained the summit only to find »i M 276 Xonncvillc*0 Bdventurcd w Ml themselves on another ravine, and now per- ceived that this vast mountain, which had presented such a sloping and even side to the distant beholder on the plain, was shagged by fr [^htful precipices, and seamed with longitu- di.al chasms, deep and dangerous. In one of these wild dells they passed the night, and slept soundly and sweetly after their fatigues. Two days more of arduous climbing and scrambling only served to ad- mit them into the heart of this mountainous and awful solitude, where difficulties increased as they proceeded. Sometimes they scrambled from rock to rock, up the bed of some moun- tain stream, dashing its bright way down to the plains ; sometimes they availed themselves of the paths made by the deer and the moun- tain sheep, which, however, often took them to the brink of fearful precipices, or led to rugged defiles, impassable for their horses. At one place, they were obliged to slide their horses down the face of a rock, in which at- tempt some of the poor animals lost their foot- ing, rolled to the bottom, and came near being dashed to pieces. In the afternoon of the second day, the trav- ellers attained one of the elevated valleys locked up in this singular bed of mountains. Here were two bright and beautiful little lakes, set Bdcent of a Snows peaft 277 like mirrors in the midst of stern and rocky heights, and surrounded by grassy meadows, inexpressibly refreshing to the eye. These probably were among the sources of those mighty streams which take their rise among these mountains, and wander hundreds of miles through the plains. In the green pastures bordering upon these lakes, the travellers halted to repose, and to give their weary horses time to crop the sweet and tender herbage. They had now ascended to a great height above the level of the plains, yet they beheld huge crags of granite piled one upon another, and beetling like battlements far above them. While two of the men re- mained in the camp with the horses, Captain Bonneville, accompanied by the other men, set out to climb a neighboring height, hoping to gain a commanding prospect, and discern some practicable route through this stupendous laby- rinth. After much toil, he reached the summit of a lofty cliff, but it was only to behold gigan- tic peaks rising all around, and towering far into the snowy regions of the atmosphere. Se- lecting one which appeared to be the highest, he crossed a narrow inte.Tening valley, and began to scale it. He soon found that he had undertaken a tremendous task ; but the pride of man is never more obstinate than when u i:i ill, 278 J8onneviUe'0 Bdvcntures climbing mountains. The ascent was so steep and rugged that he and his companions were frequently obliged to clamber on hands and knees, with their guns slung upon their backs. Frequently, exhausted with fatigue, and drip- ping with perspiration, they threw themselves upon the snow, and took handfuls of it to al- lay their parching thirst. At one place, they even stripped oflF their coats and hung them upon the bushes, and thus lightly clad, pro- ceeded to scramble over these eternal snows. As they ascended still higher, there were cool breezes that refreshed and braced them, and springing with new ardor to their task, they at length attained the summit. Here a scene burst upon the view of Captain Bonneville, that for a time astonished and over- whelmed him with its immensity. He stood, in fact, upon that dividing ridge which Indians re- gard as the crest of the world ; and on each side of which, the landscape may be said to decline to the two cardinal oceans of the globe. Whichever way he turned his eye, it was con- founded by the vastness and variety of objects. Beneath him, the Rocky Mountains seemed to open all their secret recesses : deep, solemn valleys ; treasured lakes ; dreary passes ; rug- ged defiles, and foaming torrents ; while beyond their savage precincts, the eye was lost in an Sublime prospect 379 almost immeasurable landscape ; stretching on every side into dim and hazy distance, like the expanse of a summer's sea. Whichever way he looked, he beheld vast plains glimmer- ing with reflected sunshine ; mighty streams wandering on their shining course toward either ocean, and snowy mountains, chain be- yond chain, and peak beyond peak, till they melted like clouds into the horizon. For a time, the Indian fable seemed realized : he had attained that height from which the Blackfoot warrior after death, first catches a view of the land of souls, and beholds the happy hunting grounds spread out below him, brightening with the abodes of the free and generous spirits. The captain stood for a long while gazing upon this scene, lost in a crowd of vague and indefinite ideas and sensations. A long- drawn inspiration at length relieved him from this enthrallment of the mind, and he began to analyze the parts of this vast panorama. A simple enumeration of a few of its features, may give some idea of its collective grandeur and magnificence. The peak on which the captain had taken his stand, commanded the whole Wind River chain ; which, in fact, may rather be consid- ered one immense mountain, broken into iSnowy peaks and lateral spurs, and seamed 28o Xonnevi\lc*6 Bdventurca m i.' [ -'pi I'M ! Hi ! H ■i;; ^ t!;-' with narrow valleys. Some of these valleys glittered with silver lakes and gushing streams ; the fountain head, as it w^re, of the mighty tributaries to the Atlantic and Pacific Oceans. Beyond the snowy peaks, to the south, and far, far below the mountain range, the gentle river, called the Sweet Water, was seen pursuing its tranquil way through the rugged regions of the Black Hills. In the east, the head-waters qf Wind River wandered through a plain, until, mingling in one powerful current, they forced their way through the range of Horn Moun- tains, and were lost to view. To the north, were caught glimpses of the upper streams of the Yellowstone, that great tributary of the Mis- souri. In another direction were to be seen some of the sources of the Oregon,, or Columbia, flowing to the northwest, past those towering landmarks the three Tetons, and pouring down into the great lava plain ; while, almost at the captain's feet, the Green River, or Colorado of the West, set forth on its wandering pilgrim- age to the Gulf of California ; at first a mere mountain torrent, dashing north v^ard over crag and precipice, in a succession of cascades, and tumbling into the plain, where, expanding into an ample river, it circled away to the south, and after alternately shining out and disappear- ing in the mazes of the vast landscape, was Bii f mmendc Brca 28z finally lost in a horizon of mountains. The day was calm and cloudless, and the atmosphere so pure that objects were discernible at an aston- ishing distance. The whole of this immense area was inclosed by an outer range of shadowy peaks, some of them faintly marked en the horizon, which seemed to wall it in from the rest of the earth. It is to be regretted that Captain Bonneville had no instruments with him with which to ascertain the altitude of this peak. He gives it as his opinion, that it is the loftiest point of the North American continent ; but of this we have no satisfactory proof. It is certain that the Rocky Mountains are of an altitude vastly superior to what was formerly supposed. We rather incline to the opinion that the highest peak is further to the northward, and is the same measured by Mr. Thompson, surveyor to the Northwest Company ; who, by the joint means of the barometer and trigonometric measurement, ascertained it to be twenty-five thousand feet above the level of the sea ; an elevation only inferior to that of the Hima- layas.* For a long time, Captain Bonneville remained gazing around him with wonder and enthusi- * See the letter of Professor Renwick, in the ap- pendix to Astoria. \ € \'-- I til';' 1-1 28a JSonitcviUc'd BOventurcd asm ; at length the chill and wintry winds whirling about the snow-clad height, admon- ished him to descend. He soon regained the spot where he and his companions had thrown off their coats, which were now gladly resumed, and, retracing their course down the peak, tliey safely rejoined their companions on the border of the lake. Notwithstanding the savage and almost in- accessible nature of these mountains, they have their inhabitants. As one of the party was out hunting, he came upon the solitary track of a man, in a lonely valley. Following it up, he reached the brow of a cliff, whence he be- held three savages running across the valley below him. He fired his gun to call their at- tention, hoping to induce them to turn back. They only fled the faster, and disappeared among the rocks. The hunter returned and reported what he had seen. Captain Bonne- ville at once concluded that these belonged to a kind of hermit race, scanty in number, that inhabit the highest and most inaccessible fast- nesses. They speak the Shoshonie language, and probably are offsets from that tribe, though they have peculiarities of their own, which distinguish them from all other Indians. They are miserably poor ; own no horses, and are destitute of every convenience to be de- Ibermit InOtaiid 2S3 rived from an intercourse with the whites. Their weapons are bows and stone-pointed arrows, with which they hunt the deer, the elk, and the mountain sheep. They are to be found scattered about the countries of the Shoshonie, Flathead, Crow, and Black feet tribes ; but their residences are always in lonely places, and the clefts of the rocks. Their footsteps are often seen by the trap- pers in the high and solitary valleys among the mountains, and the smokes of their fires descried among the precipices, but they them- selves are rarely met with and still more rarely brought to a parley, so great is their shyness, and their dread of strangers. As their poverty offers no temptation to the marauder, and as they are inoffensive in their habits, they are never the objects of warfare : should one of them, however, fall into the hands of a war party, he is sure to be made a sacrifice, for the sake of that savage trophy, a scalp, and that barbarous ceremony, a scalp dance. Those forlorn beings, forming a mere link between human nature and the brute, have been looked down upon with pity and con- tempt by the Creole trappers, who have gi\'en them the appellation oiles dignes depitie, or * ' the objects of pity." They appear more worthy to be called the wild men of the mountains. I I, ' ! i; » ! Chapter f f IDf • if; Hi'- A Retrogriide Move — Channel of a Mountain Torrent — Alpine Scenery — Cascades — Beaver Valleys — Bea- vers at Work — Their Architecture — Their Modes of Felling Trees — Mode of Trapping Beaver — Contests of ,>kill— A Beaver "Up to Trap"— Arrival at the Green River Caches. THE viev7 from the snowy peak of the Wind River Mountain, while it had excited Captain Bonneville's enthusi- asm, had satisfied him that it would be use- less to force a passage westward, through multiplying barriers of cliffs and precipices. Turning his face eastward, therefore, he endea- vored to regain the plains, intending to make the circuit round the southern point of the moun- tain. To descend, and to extricate himself from the heart of this rock-piled wilderness, was almost as difficult as to penetrate it. Tak- ing his course down the ravine of a tumbling stream, the commencement of some future 284 BIpfne Scencxt 285 river, he descended from rock to rock, and shelf to shelf, between stupendous cliffs and beetling crags, that sprang up to the sky. Often he had to cioss and recross the rushing torrent, as it wound foaming and roaring down its broken channel, or was walled by perpendicular precipices ; and imminent was the hazard of breaking the legs of the horses in the clefts and fissures of slippery rocks. The whole scenery of this deep ravine was of Alpine wildness and sublimity. Sometimes the trav- ellers passed beneath cascades which pitched from such lofty heights, that the water fell into the stream like heavy rain. In other places, torrents came tumbling from crag to crag, dashing into foam and spray, and mak- ing tremendous din and uproar. On the second day of their descent, the travellers, having got beyond the steepest pitch of the mountains, came to where the deep and nigged ravine began occasionally to expand into small levels or valleys, and the stream to assume for short intervals a more peaceful character. Here, not merely the river itself, but every rivulet flowing into it, was dammed up by communities of industrious beavers, so as to inundate the neighborhood, and make continual swamps. During a midday halt in one of these beaver a86 :iSonnev^lUc'0 adventured (:' 1. ( I. '11, . it!' ■ lii valleys, Captain Bonneville left his companions, and strolled down the course of the stream to reconnoitre. He had not proceeded far, when he came to a beaver pond, and caught a glimpse of one of its painstaking inhabitants busily at work upon the dam. The curiosity of the captain was aroused, to behold the mode of operating of this far-famed architect ; he moved forward, therefore, with the utmost caution, parting the branches of the water willows without making any noise, un .1 hav- ing attained a position commanding a view of the whole pond, he stretched himself fiat on the ground, and watched the solitary workman. In a little while, three others appeared at the head of the dam, bringing sticks and bushes. With these they proceeded directly to the bar- rier, which Captain Bonneville perceived was in need of repair. Having deposited their loads upon the broken part, they dived into the water, and shortly reappeared at the sur- face. Kach now brought a quantity of mud, with which he would plaster the sticks and bushes just deposited. This kind of masonry was continued for some time, repeated supplies of wood and mud being brought, and treated in the same manner. This done, the indus- trious beavers indulged in a little recreation, chasing each other about the pond, dodging XcnvctB at TUIorli •87 ion, and whisking about on the surface, or diving to the bottom ; and in their frolic, often slap- ping their tails on the water with a loud clack- ing sound. While they were thus amusing themselves, another of the fraternity made his appearance, and looked gravely on their sports for some time, without offering to join in them, lie then climbed the bank close to where the captain was concealed, and, rearing himself on his hind-quarters, in a sitting position, put his fore-paws against a young pine-tree, and began to cut the bark with his teeth. At times he would tear off a small piece, and holding it between his paws, and retaining his sedentary position, would feed himself with it, after the fashion of a monkey. The object of the beaver, how.ever, was evidently to cut down the tree ; and he was proceeding with his work, when he was alarmed by the ap- proach of Captain Bonneville's men, who, feel- ing anxious at the protracted absence of their leader, were coming in search of him. At the sound of their voices, all the beavers, busy as well as idle, dived at once beneath the surface, and were no more to be seen. Captain Bonne- ville regretted this interruption. He had heard much of the sagacity of the beaver in cutting down trees, in which, it is said, they manage to make them fall into the water, and in such :V f| || If* « ( ir 1 f. ^ I, ! i !'. 288 JSoimevillc'd BDventurea a position and direction as may be most favor- able for conveyance to the desired point. In the present instance, the tree was a tall straight pine, and as it grew perpendicularly, and there was not a breath of air stirring, the beaver could have felled it in any direction he pleased, if really capable of exercising a discretion in the matter. He was evidently engaged in "belting" the tree, and his first incision had been on the side nearest to the water. Captain Bonneville, however, discredits, on the whole, the alleged sagacity of the beaver in this particular, and thinks the animal has no other aim than to get the tree down, with- out any of the subtle calculation as to its mode or directions of falling. This attribute, he thinks, has been ascribed to them from the circumstance, that most trees growing near water-courses, either lean bodily towards the stream, or stretch their largest limbs in that direction, to benefit by the space, the light, and the ar.r to be found there. The beaver, of course, attacks those trees which are nearest at hand, and on the banks of the stream or pond. He makes incisions round them, or, in technical phrase, belts them with his teeth, and when they fall, they naturally take the direction in which their trunks or branches preponderate. Saonciti? of tbc Xcavct 2 St) "I have often," «ays Captain Bonneville, 'seen trees measuring eij^hteen inches in diam- eter, at the places where they had been cut tlirough by the beaver, but they lay in all directions, and often very inconveniently for the after purposes of the animal. In fact, so little ingenuity do they at times display in this particular, that at one of our camps on Snake River, a beaver was foimd with his head wedged into the cut which he had made, the tree having fallen ujx)n him and held him pris- oner until he died." Great choice, according to the captain, is certainly displayed by the beaver in selecting the wood which is to furnish bark for winter provision. The whole beaver household, old and young, set out upon tl.is budr.ess, and will often make long journeys before they are suited. Sometimes they cut down trees of the largest size and then cull tlic branches, the bark of which is most to their taste. These they cut into lengths of about three feet, con- vey them to the water, and float them to their lodges, where they are ctored away for winter. They are studious of cleanliness and comfort in their lodges, and after their repasts, will carry out the sticks from which they have eaten the bark, and throw them into the cur- rent beyond the barrier. They are jealous, VOL. I. — ZQ hi h 290 Xonncvi{lc*6 Bdventures '' i > I ^1- 1 !' '- '■ flJlH' f-i :^: 8t i'i 5-.' H|. .— 'it ifc^i too, of their territories, and extremely pugna- cious, never permitting a strange beaver to enter their premises, and often fighting with such virulence as almost to tear each other to pieces. In the spring, which is the breeding season, the male leaves the female at home, and sets off" on a tour of pleasure, rambling often to a great distance, recreating himself in every clear and quiet expanse of water on his way, and climbing the banks occasionally to feast upon the tender sprouts of the young willows,. As summer advances, he gives up his bachelor rambles, and bethinking himself of housekeeping duties, returns home to his mate and his new progeny, and marshals them all for the foraging expedition in quest of winter provisions. After having shown the public spirit of this praiseworthy little animal as a member of a community, and his amiable and exemplary conduct as the father of a family, we grieve to record the perils with which he is environed, and the snares set for him and his painstaking household. Practice, says Captain Bonneville, has given such a quickness of eye to the experienced trap- per in all that relates to his pursuit, that he car detect the slightest sign of beaver, however wild; and although the- lodge may be con- aso^c ot trapping JSeaver 291 cealed by close thickets and overhanging wil- lows, he can generally, at a single glance, make an accurate guess at the number of its inmates. He now goes to work to set his trap ; planting it upon the shore, in some chosen place, two or three inches below the surface of the water, and secures it by a chain to a pole set deep in the mud. A small twig is then stripped of its bark, and one end is dipped in the "medicine," as the trappers term the peculiar bait which they employ. This end of the stick rises about four inches above the surface of the water, the other end is planted between the jaws of the trap. The beaver, possessing an acute sense of smell, is soon attracted by the odor of the bait. As he raises his nose towards it, his foot is caught in the trap. In his fright he throws a somer- set into the deep water. The trap, being fas- tened to the pole, resists all his efforts to drag it to the shore ; the chain by which it is fas- tened defies his teeth ; he struggles for a time, and at length sinks to the bottom and is drowned. Upon rocky bottoms, where it is not possi- ble to plant the pole, it is thrown into the stream. The beaver, when entrapped, often gets fastened by the chain to sunken logs or floating timber ; if he gets to shore, he is en- 1^^. i M ^■:. 1 ii.i ;l ! it; : i [|:f 292 JBonneville'd Bdv»cnture0 tangled in the thickets of brook willows. In such cases, however, it costs the trapper dili- gent search, and sometimes a bout at swim- ming, before he finds his game. Occasionally it happens that several mem- bers of a beaver family are trapped in succe> sion. The survivors then become extremely shy, and can scarcely be "brought to medi- cine," to use the trapper's phrase for *' taking the bait." In such case, the trapper gives up the use of the bait, and conceals his traps in the usual paths and crossing-places of the household. The beaver now being completely "up to trap," approaches them cautiously, and springs them ingeniously with a stick. At other times, he turns the traps bottom upwards, by the same means, and occasionally even drags them to the barrier and conceals them in the mtd. The trapper, now gives up the contest of ingenuity, and shouldering his traps, marches off, admitting that he is not yet " up to beaver." On the day following Captain Bonneville's supervision of the industrious and frolicsome community of beavers, of which he has given so edifying an account, he succeeded in ex- tricatiiig himself from the Wind River Moun- tains, and regaining the plain to the eastward, made a great, bend to the south, so as to go Tr ^be 6reen 'River Cacbcd 293 round the bases of the mountains, and arrived without further incident of importance, at the old place of rendezvous in Green River Valley, on the 17th of September. He found the caches^ in which he had de- posited his superfluous goods and equipments, all safe, and having opened and taken from them the necessary supplies, he closed them again ; taking care to obliterate all traces that might betray them to the keen eyes of Indian marauders. j- ' il hi- 1 M ■■•5 Cbapter f fVf f . •IV! m ' :yi i Route Towards Wind River — Dangerous Neighbor- hood — Alarms and Precautions — A Sham Encamp- ment — Apparition of an Indian Spy — Midnight Move-— A Mountain Defile — The Wind River Valley — ^Tracking a Party — Deserted Camps — Symptoms of Crows — Meeting of Comrades — A Trapper En- trapped — Crow Pleasantry — Crow Spies — A De- campment — Return to Green River Valley — Meet- ing with Fitzpatrick's Party — Their Adventures among the Crows — Orthodox Crows. ON the 1 8th of September, Captain Bonne- ville and his three companions set out, bright and early, to rejoin the main party from which they had parted on Wind River. Their route lay up the Green River Valley, with that stream on their right hand, and beyond it, the range of Wind River Moun- tains. At the head of the valley, they were to pass through a defile which would bring them out beyond the northern end of these mountains, 294 Slarme and precautfotid 295 to the head of Wind River ; where they ex- pected to meet the main party, according to arrangement. We have already adverted to the dangerous nature of this neighborhood, infested by roving bands of Crows and Blackfeet ; to wlioni the numerous defiles and passes of the country afford capital places for ambush and surprise. The travellers, therefore, kept a vigilant eye upon everything that might give intimation of lurking danger. About two hours after midday, as they reached the summit of a hill, they discovered buffalo on the plain below, running in every direction. One of the men, too, fancied lie heard the report of a gun. It was concluded, therefore, that there was some party of Indians below, hunting buffalo. The horses were immediately concealed in a narrow ravine ; and the captain, mounting an eminence, but concealing himself from view, reconnoitred the whole neighborhood with a telescope. Not an Indian was to be seen ; so, after halting about an hour, he resumed his journey. Convinced, however, that he was in a dangerous neighborhood, he advanced with the utmost caution ; winding his way through hollows and ravines, and avoiding, as much as possible, any open tract, or rising ground, that 296 Xonncvil{c*6 BDpentured 'I '1- ' i'.'.' ii:; HI. ; . ', ■ ' i :■ iT' :" i I ' "ill ii'l ; . iii! -I ii ■ 1 in i '1' 1-i might betray his little party to the watchful eye of an Indian scout. Arriving, at length, at the edge of the open meadow-land bordering on the river, he again observed the buflfalo, as far as he could see, scampering in great alarm. Once more con- cealing the horses, he and his companions re- mained for a long time watching the various groups of the animals, as each caught the panic and started off; but they sought in vain to dis- cover the cause. They were now about to enter the mountain defile, at the head of Green River Valley, where they might be waylaid and attacked ; they, therefore, arranged the packs on their horses, in the manner most secure and convenient for sudden flight, should such be necessary. This done, they again set forward, keeping the most anxious lookout in every direction. It was now drawing towards evening ; but they could not think of encamping for the night, in a place so full of danger. Captain Bonneville, therefore, determined to halt about sunset, kindle a fire, as if for encampment, to cook and eat supper ; but, as soon as it was sufficiently dark, to make a rapid move for the summit of the mountain, and seek some secluded spot for their night's lodgings. . Accordingly, as the sun went down, the little 1 (( B Sbam £ncampmcnt 897 party came to a halt, made a large fire, spitted their buffalo meat on wooden sticks, and, when sufficiently roasted, planted the savory viands before them ; cutting off huge slices with their hunting knives, and supping with a hunter's appetite. The light of their fire would not fail, as they knew, to attract the attention of any Indian horde in ithe neighborhood ; but they trusted to be off and away, before any prowlers could reach the place. While they were supping thus hastily, however, one of their party suddenly started up, and shouted ' * Indians ! ' ' All were instantly on their feet, with their rifles in their hands ; but could see no enemy. The man, however, declared that he had seen an Indian advancing, cautiousl}^ along the trail which they had made in coming to the encampment ; who, the moment he was perceived, had thrown himself on the ground, and disappeared. He urged Captain Bonneville instantly to decamp. The captain, however, took the matter more coolly. The single fact, that the Indian had endeavored to hide him- self, convinced him that he was not one of a party, on the advance to make an attack. He was, probably, some scout, who had followed up their trail, until he came in sight of their fire. He would, in such case, return, and re- port what he had seen to his companions. f'ii t \ .11 ! ii i In I ' i ■ ■ ^ r- . ! t ■■ ■ • ■ iM I' . i (■'. i I'M M i hti * 298 JSonnei^ilIe'0 Bdvcntured These, supposing the white men had encamped for the night, would keep aloe f until very late, when all should be asleep. They would then, according to Indian tactics, make their stealthy approaches, and place themselves in ambush around, preparatory to their attack, at the usual hour of daylight. Such was Captain Bonneville's conclusion ; in consequence of which, he counselled his men to keep perfectly quiet, and act as if free from all alarm, until the proper time arrived for a move. They, accordingly, continued their repast with pretended appetite and jollity ; and then trimmed and replenished their fire, as if for a bivouac. As soon, however, as the night had completely set in, they left their fire blaz- ing ; walked quietly among the willows, and then leaping into their saddles, made off as noiselessly as possible. In proportion as they left the point of danger behind them, they re- laxed in their rigid and anxious taciturnity, and began to joke at the expense of their enemy ; whom they pictured to themselves mousing in the neighborhood of their deserted fire, waiting for the proper time of attack, and preparing for a grand disappointment. About midnight, feeling satisfied that they had gained a secure distance, they posted one of their number to keep watch, in case the 1 (3tPind tbe f nMaitd tbe Slip 999 i' re- enemy should follow on the trail, and then, turning abruptly into a dense and matted thicket of willows, halted for the night at the foot of the mountain, instead of making for the summit, as they had originally intended. A trapper in the wilderness, like a sailor on the ocean, snatches morsels of enjoyment in the midst of trouble, and sleeps soundly when surrounded by danger. The little party now made their arrangements for sleep with perfect calmness ; they did not venture to make a fire and cook, it is true, though generally done by hunters whenever they come to a halt, and have provisions. They comfo-ted themselves, however, by smoking a tranquil pipe ; and then calling in the watch, and turning loose the horses, stretched themselves on their pal- lets, agreed that whoever should first awake, should rouse the rest, and in a little while were all in as sound sleep as though in the midst of a fortress. A little before day, they were all on the alert ; it was the hour for Indian maraud. A sentinel was immediately detached, to po.st himself at a little distance on their trail, and give the alarm, should he see or hear an enemy. With the first blink of dawn, the rest sought the horses ; brought them to the camp, and I I \i: 300 J3onncvillc'd Bdvcnturcs 1,1 it'. :■'■ I ,!. ! ■'■! H I .if. tied them up, until an hour after sunrise ; when, the sentinel having reported that all was well, they sprang once. more into their saddles, and pursued the most covert and secret paths up the mountain, avoiding the direct route. At noon, they halted and made a hasty re- past ; and then bent their course so as to regain the route from which they had diverged. They were now made sensible of the danger from which they had just escaped. There were tracks of Indians who had evidently been in pursuit of them ; but had recently returned, baffled in their search. Trusting that they had now got a fair start, and could not be overtaken before night, even in case the Indians should renew the chase, they pushed briskly forward, and did not en- camp until late ; when they cautiously con- cealed ther .selves in a secure nook of the mountains. Without any further alarm, they made their way to the head-waters of Wind River, and reached the neighborhood in which they had appointed the rendezvous with their compan- ions. It was within the precincts of the Crow country ; the Wind River Valley being one of the favorite haunts of that restless tribe. Afttr much searching, Captain Bonneville came upon a trail which had evidently been made by his >X V; BnstctiS of tbc Captain 301 main party. It was so old, liowe;'er, that he feared his people might have left the neighbor- hood ; driven off, perhaps, by some of those war parties which were on the prowl. He continued his search with great anxiety, and no little fa- tigue ; for his horses v/ere jaded, and almost crippled, by their forced marches and scrani- blings through rocky defilts. On the following day, about noon, Captain Bonneville came upon a deserted camp of his people, from which they had, evidently, turned back ; but he could find no signs to indicate why they had done so ; whether they had met with misfortune, or molestation, or in what direction they had gone. He was now, more than ever, perplexed. On the following day, he resumed his march with increasing anxiety. The feet of his horses had by this time become so worn and wounded by the rocks, that he had to make moccasins for them of buflfalo hide. About noon, he came to another deserted camp of his men ; but soon after lost their trail. After great search, he once more found it, turning in a southerly direction along the eastern basis of the Wind River Mountains, which towered to the right. He now pushed forward with all possible speed, in hopes of overtaking the party. At night, he slept at another of the ! 11 m ii:: III*' l!h^ I 'I M' it'' if I \ ! ii ')•' I- ■1^ 'i u ' 1 I': Mi J; I. y)2 Xo\mcviUc*B BDpenture0 camps, from whicli tlicy had but recently de- parted. When the day dawned sufficiently to distinguish objects, he perceived the danger that must be dogging the heels of his main party. All about the camp were traces of In- dians, who must have been prowling about it at the time his people had passed the night there ; and who must still be hovering about them. Convinced, now, that the main party could not be at any great distance, he mounted a scout on the best horse, and set him forward to overtake them, to warn them of their dan- ger, and to order them to halt, until he should rejoin them. In the afternoon, to his great joy, he met the scout returning, with six comrades from the main party, leading fresh horses for his accom- modation ; and on the following day (Septem- ber 25th), all hands were once more reunited, after a separation of nearly three weeks. Their meeting was hearty and joyous ; for they had both experienced dangers and perplexities. The main party, in pursuing their course up the Wind River Valley, had been dogged the whole way by a war party of Crows. In one place, they had been fired upon, but without injury : in another place, one of their horses had been cut loose, and carried off. At length, they were so closely beset, that they were dbe drappcr Entrapped 303 obliged to make a retrograde move, lest they should be surprised aud overcome. This was the movement which had caused such |xjrplex- ity to Captain Bonneville. The whole party now remained encamped for two or three days, to give repose to both men and horses. Some of the trappers, how- ever, pursued their vocations about the neigh- boring streams. While one of them was setting his traps, he heard the tramp of horses, and looking up, beheld a party of Crow braves moving along at no great distance, with a con- siderable cavalcade. The trapper hastened to conceal himself, but was discerned by the quick eye of the savages. With whoops and yells, they dragged him from his hiding-place, flour- ished over his head their tomahawks and scalping-kn i ves, and for a time, the poor trap- per gave himself up for lost. Fortunately, the Crows "^i-ere in a jocose, rather than a sanguin- ary mood. They amused themselves heartily, for a while, at the expense of his terrors ; and after having played off divers Crow pranks and pleasantries, suffered him to depart unharmed. It is true, they stripped him completely, one taking his horse, another his gun, a third his traps, a fourth his blanket, and so on, through all his accoutrements, and even his clothing, until he was stark naked : but then they gen- I r I frn \ \'i ' I ]"' 1 n f; r ■ m n!:] :ii • IS !1 1' " r i I i - : ! ■I 1 304 JSonneviUe'd BDventures erousl}^ made him a present of an old tattered buffalo robe, and dismissed him, with many complimentary speeches, and much laughter. When the trapper returned to the camp, in such sorry plight, he was greeted with peals of laughter from hisr comrades, and seemed more mortified by the style in which he had been dismissed, than rejoiced at escaping with his life. A circumstance which he related to Captain Bonneville, gave some insight into the cause of this extreme jocularity on the part of the Crows. They had evidently had a run of luck, and, like winning gamblers, were in high good humor. Among twenty-six fine horses, and some mules, which composed their cavalcade, the trapper recognized a number which had belonged to Fitzpatrick's brigade, when they parted company on the Bighorn. It was supposed, therefore, that these vaga- bonds had been on his trail, and robbed him of part of his cavalry. On the day following this affair, three Crows came into Captain Bonneville's camp, with the most easy, innocent, if not impudent air imag- inable ; walking about with that imperturbable coolness and unconcern, in which the Indian ri- vals the fine gentleman. As they had not been of the set which stripped the trapper, though evidently of the same band, they were not I ! ; ■ ■ I dbrec Crow 6ucdtd 305 molested. Indeed, Captain Bonneville treated them with his usual kindness and hospita'ity ; permitting them to remain all day in the camp and even to pass the night there. At the same time, however, he caused a strict watch to be maintained on all their movements ; and at night, stationed an armed sentinel neai them. The Crows remonstrated against the latter being armed. This only made the cap- tain suspect them to be spies, who meditated treachery ; he redoubled, therefore, his pre- cautions. At the same time, he assured his guests, that while they were perfectly welcome to the shelter and comfort of his camp, yet, should any of their tribe venture to approach during the night, they would certainly be shot ; which would be a very unfortunate circum- stance, and much to be deplored. To the lat- ter remark, they fully assented ; and shortly afterward commenced a wild song, or chant, which they kept up for a long time, and in which, they very probably gave their friends, who might be prowling around the camp, notice that the white men were on the alert. The night passed away without disturbance. In the morning the three Crow guests were very pressing that Captain Bonneville and his party should accompany them to their camp, which they said was close by. Instead of ill f I VOL. I.— ao II p m' I* ■ 1 1 ,1 . I-,: . 1 : i : ; ■ ; 1 ! ■ ■ ', i) '" H' i m>^ I.,. I ■ i 'if i 1:1 :-■ ; i1 m:\ 306 3Bonncvi4(c'd Bdventured accepting their invitation, Captain Bonneville took his departure with all possible dispatch, eager to be out of the vicinity of such a pirati- cal horde ; nor did he relax the diligence of his march, until, on the second day, he reached the banks of the Sweet Water, beyond the limits of the Crow country, and a heavy fall of snow had obliterated all traces of his course. He now continued on for some few days, at a slower pace, round the point of the mountain towards Green River, and arrived once more at the caches, on the 14th of October. Here they found traces of the band of Indians who had hunted them iu the defile towards the head-waters of the Wind River. Having lost all trace of them on their way over the moun- tains, they had turned and followed back their trail down Green River Valley to the caches. One of these they had discovered and broken open, but it fortunately contained nothing but fragments of old iron, which they had scattered about in all directions, and then departed. In examining their deserted camp. Captain Bon- neville discovered that it numbered thirty-nine fires and had more reason than ever to congrat- ulate himself on having escaped the clutches of such a formidable band of freebooters. He now turned his course southward, under cover of the mountains, and on the 25th of i;ii; k- iji. ■I'ji : TTrail of a parts of Crowd 307 October reached Liberge's Ford, a tributary of the Colorado, where he came suddenly upon the trail of this same war party, which had crossed the stream so recently, that the banks were yet wet with the water that had been splashed upon them. To judge from their tracks, they could not be less than three hun- dred warriors, and apparently of the Crow nation. Captain Bonneville was extremely uneasy lest this overpowering force should come upon him in some place where he would not have V" ' * leans of fortifying himself promptly. He 1^.,. moved towards Hane's Fork, another tributary of the Colorado, where he encamped, and remained during the 26th of October. See- ing a large cloud of smoke to the south, he supposed it to arise from some encampment of Shoshonies, and sent scouts to procure in- formation and to purchase a lodge. It was, in fact, a band of Shoshonies, but with them were encamped Fitzpatrick and his party of trap- pers. That active leader had an eventful story to relate of his fortunes in the country of the Crows. After parting with Captain Bonneville on the banks of the Bighorn, he made for the west, to trap upon Powder and Tongue rivers. He had between twenty and thirty men with him, and about one hundred horses. So large if^ .i ff- i- Hl'li 30S JScnneviUc'd Bdventure0 a cavalcade could not pass through the Crow country without attracting the attention of its freebooting hordes. A large band of Crows ere soon on their traces, and came up with them on the 5th of September, just as they had reached Tongue River. The Crow chief came forward with great appearance of friendship, and proposed to Fitzpatrick that they should encamp together. The latter, however, not having any faith in the Crows, declined the invitation, and pitched his camp three miles '. off. He then rode over, with two or three men, to visit the Crow chief, by whom he was received wMth great apparent cordiality. In the meantime, however, a party of young braves, who considered themselves absolved by his distrust from all scruples of honor, made a circuit privately, and dashed into his er- campment. Captain Stewart, who had re- mained there in the absence of Fitzpatrick, behaved with great spirit; but the Crows were too numerous and active. They had got possession of the camp, and soon made booty of everything — carrying off all the horses. On their way back they met Fitzpatrick returning to his camp; and finished their exploit by rifling and nearly stripping him. A negotiation now took place between the plundered white men and the triumphant yit3patrtcfi aiiD tbc Crowd 3 ,, ' ! I- iiV' !!; 'l',\ i li .11 li! . I I |i- ; V A i if il Cbapte^ f flDf f f ♦ A Region of Natural Curiosities— The Plain of White Clay — Hot Springs — The Beer Spring — Departure to Seek the Free Trappers — Plain of Portneuf— Lava — Chasms and Gullies — Banneck Indians — Their Hunt of the BuflFalo— Hunters' Feast- Trencher Heroes — Bullying of an Absent Foe — ^The Damp Comrade — ^The Indian Spy — Meeting with Hodgkiss — His Adventures — Poordevil Indians— Triumph of the Bannecks — Blackfeet Policy in War. CROSSING an elevated ridge, Captain Bonneville now came upon Bear River, which, from its source to its entrance into the Great Salt Lake, describes the figure of a horseshoe. One of the principal head- waters of this river, although supposed to abound with beaver, has never been visited by the trapper ; rising among rugged moun- tains, and being barricaded by fallen pine- trees and tremendous precipices. Proceeding down this river, the party en- 3x0 to in wii is th< Zbe Xittic Xafte 3" camped, on the 6th of November, at the outlet of a lake about thirty miles long, and from two to three miles in width, completely imbedded in low ranges of mountains, and connected with Bear River by an impassable swamp. It is called the Little Lake, to distinguish it from the g^eat one of salt water. On the loth of November, Captain Bonne- ville visited a place in the neighborhood which is quite a region of natural curiosities. An area of about half a mile square presents a level surface of white ck or fuller's earth, perfectly spotless, resembling a great slab of Parian marble, or a sheet of dazzling snow. The effect is strikingly beautiful at all times ; in summer, when it is surrounded with verd- ure, or in autumn, when it contrasts its bright immaculate surface with the withered herbage. Seen from a distant eminence, it then shines like a mirror, set in the brown landscape. Around this plain are clusteied numerous springs cf various sizes and temperatures. One of them, of scalding heat, boils furiously and incessantly, rising t*- the height of two or three feet. In another place, there is an aper- ture in the earth, from which rushes a column of steam that forms a perpetual cloud. The ground for some distance around sounds hol- low, and startles the solitary trapper, as he I vmn^tlB- r ! 1 } ,' 1 1 ?' * ii ■ U ^ Hi 1 ■ 1 ) 4 ' ill '1 y I ! i; 313 Xonncvi\{e*6 BDventuree hears the tramp of his horse giving the sound of a muffled drum. He pictures to himself a mysterious gulf below, a place of hidden fires, and gazes round him with awe and uneasiness. The most noted curiosity, however, of this singular region, is the Beer Springs of which trappers give wonderful accounts. They are said to turn aside from their route through the country to drink of its waters, with as much eagerness as the Arab seeks some famous well of the desert. Captain Bonneville describes it as having the taste of beer. His men drank it with avidity, and in copious draughts. It did not appear to him to possess any medicinal properties, or to produce any peculiar effects. The Indians, however, refuse to taste it, and endeavor to persuade the white men from doing so. We have heard this also called the Soda Spring, and described as containing iron and sulphur. It probably possesses some of the properties of the Ballston water. The time had now arrived for Captain Bon- neville to go in quest pf the party of free trap- pers detached in the beginning of July, under the command of Mr. Hodgkiss, to trap upon the head-waters of Salmon River. His inten- tion was to unite them with the party with which he was a*: present travelling, that all JSannecli InMatid 3M might go into quarters together for the winter. Accordingly, on the nth of Novenil>er, he took a temporary leave of his band, appointing a rendezvous on Snake RiVer, and, accom- panied by three men, set out upon his journey. His route lay across the plain of the Portneuf, a tributary stream of Snake River, called after an unfortunate Canadian trapper, murdered by the Indians. The whole country through which he passed, bore evidence of volcanic convulsions and conflagration in the olden time. Great masses of lava lay scattered aibout in every direction ; the crags and cliffs had apparently been under the action of fire ; the rocks in some places seemed to hav2 been in a state of fusion ; the plain was rent and split with deep chasms and guUito, some of which were partly filled with lava. They had not proceeded far, however, before they saw a party of horsemen galloping full tilt towards them. The}' instantly turned, and made full speed for the covert of a woody stream, to fortify themselves among the trees. The Indians came to a halt, and one of them came forward alone. He reached Captain Bonneville and his men just as they were dis- mounting and about to post themselves. A few words dispelled all uneasiness. It was a party of twenty-five Banneck Indians, friendly I i r I \U ml •?". I^i I i,. i": I ■ f ! .ill 1 1 if »; ! 'h }>! .!j H 1';' - ... $29 JSonncviUc'd BDvcnturcd it has ever since been an object of the greatest exultation and rejoicing. It had been elevated upon a pole in the center of the village, where the warriors had celebrated the scalp dance round it, w th war feasts, war songs, and war- like harangues. It had then been given up to the women and boys ; who had paraded it up and down the village with shouts and chants and antic dances ; occasionally saluting it with all kinds of taunts, invectives, and revilings. The Blackfeet, in this affair, do not appear to have acted up to the character which has rendered them objects of such terror. Indeed, their conduct in war, to the inexperienced ob- server, is full of inconsistencies ; at one time they are headlong in courage, and heedless of danger; at another time cautious almost to cowardice. To understand these apparent in- congruities, one must know their principles of warfare. A war party, however triumphant, if they lose a, warrior in the fight, bring back a cause of mourning to their people, which casts a shade over the glory of their achieve- ment. Hence, the Indian is often less fierce and reckless in general battle, than he is in a private brawl ; and the chiefs are checked in their boldest undertakings by the fear of sac- rificing their warriors. . ^ This peculiarity is not confined to the the poUci? in Knar 3*3 Blackfeet. Among the Osages, says Captain Bonneville, when a warrior falls in battle, his comrades, though they may have fought w?th consummate valor, and won a glorious victory, will leave their arms upon the field of battle, and returning home with dejected counte- nances, will halt without the encampment, and wait until the relatives of the slain come forth and invite them to mingle again with their people. r mi US' • i: .1 <'■■-.' ill '' ■; 1 1 ! . i ; (i ■ 1 ^' . ' - 1 J " ; ■ ■ ! ■ ■ j : 11 ■;■ ■ t '" 1 'i 1 i:i! J Cbapter f f f i\ Within Camp at the Portneut— Fine Springs— The Banneck Indians — ^Their Honesty — Captai . Bonne- ville Prepares for an Expedition — Christmas— The - American Falls — Wild Scenery — Fishing Falls — . Snake Indians — Scenery on the Bruneau — View of Vol ;ai3ic Cuuntry from a Mountain — Powder River — Bhoshokoes, or Root Diggers— Their Character Habits, Habitations, Dogs — Vanity at its Last Shift. IN establishing his winter camp near the Portneuf, Captain Bonneville had drawn off to some little distance irom his Banneck friends, to avoid all annoyance from their inti- macy or intrusions. In so doing, however, he had been obliged to take up his quarters on the extreme edge of the flat land, where he was encompassed with ice and ^now, and had noth- ing better for his horses to subsist on than wormwood. The Bannecks, on the contrary, were encamped among fine springs of water, where there was grass in abundance. Some of these springs gush out of the earth in suflS- dent quantity to turn a mill, and furnish beau- 334 flatural <3ood*TIQlill 325 I i fill streams, clear as crystal, and full of trout of a large size, which may be seen darting about the transparent water. Winter now set in regularly. The snow had fallen frequently, and in large quantities, and covered the ground to the depth of a foot ; and the continued coldness of the weather prevented any thaw. By degrees, a distrust which at first subsisted between the Indians and the trappers, subsided, and gave way to mutual confidence and good- will. A few presents convinced the chiefs that the white men were their friends ; nor were the white men wanting in proofs of the honesty and good faith of their savage neighbors. Oc- casionally, the deep snow and the want of fod- der obliged them to turn their weakest horses out to roam in quest of sustenance. If they at any time strayed to the camp of the Bannecks, they were immediately brought back. It must be confessed, however, that if the stray horse happened, by any chance, to be in vigorous plight and good condition, though he was equally sure to be returned by the honest Ban- necks, yet it was always after the lapse of sev- eral days, and in a very gaunt and jaded state ; and always with the remark, that they had found him a long way off. The uncharitable were apt to surmise that he had, in the in- I ■^'^ i 111!:; Ji*' ' i ■ Hi;!;; hi:' i:i: W f! m m h m ■\ ; 326 JSoniteviUe'0 B^venturce terim, been well used up in a buffalo hunt ; but those accustomed to Indian morality in the matter of horse-flesh, considered it a sin- gular evidence of honesty, that he should be brought back at all. Being convinced, therefore, from these and other circumst?nces, that hii people were en- camped in the neighborhood of a tribe as hon- est as they were valiant, and satisfied that they would pass their winter unmolested, Captain Bonneville prepared for a reconnoitring expe- dition of great extent and peril. This was to penetrate to the Hudson's Bay establishments on the banks of the Columbia, and to make himself acquainted with the country and the Indian tribes ; it being one part of his scheme to establish a trading post somewhere on the lower part of the river, so as to participate in the trade lost to the United States by the cap- ture of Astoria. This expedition would, of course, take him through the Snake River country, and across the Blue Mountains, the scenes of so much hardship and disaster to Hunt and Crooks, and their Astorian bands, who first explored it, and he would have to pass through it in the same frightful season, the depth of the winter. The idea of risk and hardship, however, only served to stimulate the adventurous spirit B perilou0 BipeDition 327 o hunt ; rality iu it a sin- lould be ese and were en- as hon- hat they Captain ig expe- s was to shments to make and the » scheme ■ on the :ipate in the cap- »ald, of e River lins, the aster to bands, have to season, awever, is spirit of the captain. He chose three companions for his journey, put up a small stock of neces- saries in the most portable form, and selected five horses and mules for iiemselves and their baggage. He proposed to rejoin his band in the early part of March, at the winter encamp- ment near the Portneuf. All these arrange- ments being completed, he mounted his horse on Christmas morning, and set off with his three comrad ?s. They halted a little beyond the Banneck camp, and made their Christmas dinner, which, if not a very merry, was a very hearty one, after which they resumed their journey. They were obliged to travel slowly, to spare their horses, for the snow had increased iu depth to eighteen inches ; and though some- what packed and frozen, was not sufficiently so to yield firm footing. Their route lay to the west, down along the left side of Snake River, and they were several days in reaching the first, or American Falls. The banks of the river, for a considerable distance, both above and below the falls, have a volcanic character ; masses of basaltic rock are piled one upon another ; the water makes its way through their broken chasms, boiling through narrow channels, or pitching in beautiful cas- cades over ridges of basaltic columns. HH ( V 338 JSonnevflle's Bdventitre0 i IV i i ( ^ !;;■:;! ' :• 1, Pi' i' ! n^' Beyond these falls, they came to a pictur- esque but inconsiderable stream, called the Cassi^. It runs through a level valley, about four miles wide, where the soil is good ; but the prevalent coldness and dryness of the climate is unfavorable to vegetation. Near to this stream there is a small mountain of mica slate, including garnets. Granite, in small blocks, is likewise seen in this neighborhood, and white sandstone. From this river, the travel- lers had a prospect of the snowy heights of the Salmon River Mountains to the north ; the nearest, at least fifty miles distant. In pursuing his course westward. Captain Bonneville generally kept several miles from Snake River, crossing the heads of its tributary streams ; though he often found the open countiy so encumbered by volcanic rocks as to render travelling extremely difficult. When- ever he approached Snake River, he found it running through a broad chasm, with steep, perpendicular sides of basaltic rock. After several days* travel across a level plain, he came to a part of the river which filled him with astonishment and admiration. As far as the eye could reach, the river was walled in by perpendicular cliffs two hundred and fifty feet high, beetling like dark and gloomy battle- ments, while blocks and fragments lay in #i0bhid ^alld 329 masses at their feet, in the midst of the boiling and whirling current. Just above, the whole stream pitched in one cascade above forty feet in height, with a thundering sound, casting up a volume of spray that hung in the air like a sil- ver mist. These are called by some the Fishing Falls, as the salmon are taken here in immense quantities. They cannot get by these falls. After encamping at this place all night. Captain Bonneville, at sunrise,, descended with his party through a narrow ravine, or rather crevice, in the vast wall of basaltic rock which bordered the river ; this being the only mode, for many miles, of getting to the margin of the stream. The snow lay in a thin crust along the banks of the river, so that their travelling was much more easy than it had been hitherto. There were foot-tracks, also, made by the natives, which greatly facilitated their progress. Oc- casionally, they met the inhabitants of this wild region ; a timid race, and but scantily provided with the necessaries of life. Their dress consisted of a mantle about four feet square, formed of strips of rabbit skins sewed together : this they hung over their shoulders, in the ordinary Indian mode of wearing a blan- ket. Their weapons were bows and arrows ; the latter tipped with obsidian, which abounds 1 ) '.f. ■ I , li ^: .1 , I 330 JSonnevillc'd BDvcnturcd in the neighborliood. Their huts were shaped like haystacks, and constructed of branches of willow covered with long grass, so as to be warm and comfortable. Occasionally they were surrounded by small inclosures of worm- wood, about three feet high, which gave them a cottage-like appearance. Three or four of these tenaments were occasionally grouped to- gether in some wild and striking situation, and had a picturesque effect. Sometimes they were in sufficient number to form a small hamlet. From these people, Captain Bonneville's party frequently purchased salmon, dried in an ad- mirable manner, as were likewise the roes. This seemed to be their prime article of food ; but they were extremely anxious to get buffalo meat in exchange. The high walls and rocks, within which the travellers had been so long inclosed, now occa- sionally presented openings, through which they were enabled to ascend to the plain, and to cut off considerable bends of the river. Throughout the whole extent of this vast and singular chasm, the scenery of the river is said to be of the most wild and romantic char- acter. The rocks present every variety of masses and grouping. Numerous small streams come rushing and boiling through narrow clefts and ravines : one of a considerable size issued 11 li. Scenery o( tbc JSruneau 33« from the face of a precipice, within twenty-five feet of its summit ; and after runninj; in nearly a horizontal line for about one hundred feet, fell, by numerous small cascades, to the rocky bank of the river. In its career through this vast and singular defile, Snake River is upwards of three hundred yards wide, and as clear as spring water. Sometimes it steals along with a tranquil and noiseless course ; at other times, for miles and miles, it dashes on in a thousand rapids, wild and beautiful to the eye, and lulling the ear with the soft tumult of plashing waters. Many of the tributary streams of Snake River rival it in the wilderness and picturesqueness of their scenery. That called the Bruneau is particularly cited. It runs through a tre- mendous chasm, rather than a valley, extend- ing upwards of a hundred and fifty miles. You come upon it on a sudden, in traversing a level plain. It seems as if you could throw a stone across from cliff to cliff; yet, the valley is near two thousand feet deep : so that the river looks like an inconsiderable stream. Basaltic rocks rise perpendicularly, so that it is impossible to get from the plain to the water, or from the river margin to the plain. The current is bright and limpid. Hot springs are found on the borders of this river. One bursts out of 332 :iBonnevtlIc'd BDventures rii'' i-, .' 'I the cliff forty feet above the river, in a stream sufficient to turn a mill, and sends up a cloud of vapor. We find a characteristic picture of this vol- canic region of mountains and streams, fur- nished by the journal of Mr. Wyeth, which lies before us ; who ascended a peak in the neigh- borhood we are describing. From this summit, the country, he says, appears an indescribable chaos ; the tops of the hills exhibit the same strata as far as the eye can reach ; and appear to have once formed the level of the country ; and the valleys to be formed by the sinking of the earth, rather than the rising of the hills. Through the deep cracks and chasms thus formed, the rivers and brooks make their way, which renders it difficult to follow them. All these basaltic channels are called " cut rocks" by the trappers. Many of the mountain streams disappear in the plains ; either absorbed by their thirsty soil, and by the porous surface of the lava, or swallowed up in gulfs and chasms. On the 12th January (1834), Captain Bonne- ville reached Powder River, much the largest stream that he had seen since' leaving the Portneuf He struck it about three miles above its entrance into Snake River. Here he found himself above the lower narrows and defiles of the latter rivi:r, and in an open and !i ! SbO0boIioe0 333 level country. The natives now made their appearance in considerable numbers, and evinced the most insatiable curiosity respecting the white men ; sitting in groups for hours together, exposed to the bleakest winds, merely for the pleasure of gazing upon the strangers, and watching every movement. These are of that branch of the great Snake tribe called Shoshokoes, or Root Diggers, from their sub- sisting, in a great measure, on the roots of the earth ; though they likewise take fish in great quantities, and hunt, in a small way. They are, in general, verj^ poor ; destitute of most of the comforts of life, and extremely indolent : but a mild, inoiFensive race. They differ, in many respects, from the other branch of the Snake tribe, the Shoshonies, who possess horses, are more roving and adventurous, and hunt the bufifalo. On the following day, as Captain Bonneville approached the mouth of Powder River, he discovered at least a hundred families of these Diggers, as they are familiarly called, assembled in one place. The women and children kept at a distance, perched among the rocks and cliffs, their eager curiosity being somewhat dashed with fear. From their elevated posts, they scrutinized the strangers with the most intense earnestuess ; regarding them with al- w ]'V: h' l:it' ■■ ! I. 334 JSoniicviUc'd BDvcnturcd most as much awe as if they had been beings of a supernatural order. Tlie men, however, were by no means so shy and reserved ; but importuned Captain Bonneville and his companions excessively by their curiosity. Nothing escaped their notice ; and anything they could lay their hands on miderwent the most minute examination. To get rid of such inquisitive neighbors, the travellers kept on for a considerable distance, before they encamped for the night. The country hereabout was generally level and sandy ; producing very little grass, but a considerable quantity of sage or wormwood. The plains were diversified by isolated hills, all cut off, as it were, about the same height, so as to have tabular summits. In this they resembled the isolated hills of the great prairies east of the Rocky Mountains ; especially those found on the plains of the Arkansas. The high precipices which had hitherto walled in the channel of Snake River had now disappeared, and the banks were of the ordi- nary height. It should be observed, that the great valleys or plains through which the Snake River wound its course, were generally of great breadth, extending on each side from thirty to forty miles ; where the view was bounded by unbroken ridges of mountains. B IDtUa^e ot 'Root Diodecs 335 The travellers found but little snow in the neighborhood of Powder River, though the weather continued intensely cold. They learnt a lesson, however, from their forlorn friends, the Root Diggers, which they subsequently found of great service in their wintry wander- ings. They frequently observed them to be furnished with long ropes, twisted from the bark of the wormwood. This they used as a slow match, carrying it always lighted. When- ever they wished to warm themselves, they would gather together a little dry wormwood, apply the match, and in an instant produce a cheering blaze. Captain Bonneville gives a cheerless account of a village of these Diggers, which he saw in crossing the plain below Powder River. ' ' They live," says he, "without any further protec- tion from the inclemency of tlj^ season than a sort of break- weather, about three feet high, composed of sage (or wormwood), and erected around them in the shape of a half-moon." Whenever he met with them, however, they had always a large suite of half-starved dogs ; for these animals, in savage as well as in civilized life, seem to be the concomitants of beggary. These dogs, it must be allowed, were of more use than the beggarly curs of cities. The . 1 ^ ~ m ■•ir, il'i'l 11'^ f ft: 'f m 336 XonncviUc*0 'B^ventntcs Ludian children used them in hunting the small game of th^^ neighborhood, such as rabbits and prairie dogs ; in which mongrel kind of chase they acquitted themselves with some credit. Sometimes the Diggers aspire to nobler game, and succeed in trapping the antelope, the fleetest animal of the prairies. The pro- cess by which this is efifected is somewhat singular. When the snow has disappeared, says Captain Bonneville, and the ground be- come soft, the women go into the thickest fields of wormwood, and pulling it up in great quantities, construct with it a hedge, about three feet high, inclosing about a hundred acres. A single opening is left for the admission of the game. This done, the women conceal them- selves behind the wormwood, and wait patiently for the coming of the antelopes ; which some- times enter this spacious trap in considerable numbers. As soon as they are in, the women give the signal, and the men hasten to play their part. But one of them enters the pen at a time ; and, after chasing the terrified animals round the inclosure, is relieved by one of his companions. Ui this way the hunters take their turns, relieving each other, and keeping up a continued pursuit by relays, without fatigue to themselves. The poor antelopes, in the end, are so wearied down, that the whole iBnttnpping of Game 337 party of men enter and dispatch them with cUibs — not one escaping that has entered the inclosure. The most curious circumstance in this chdse is, that an animal so fleet and agile as the antelope, and straining for its life, should range round and round this fated inclosure, without attempting to overleap the low barrier which surrounds it. Such, however, is said to be the fact ; and such their only mode of hunting the antelope. Notwithstanding the absence of all comfort and convenience in their habitations, and the general squalidness of their appearance, the Shoshokoes do not appear to be destitute of ingenuity. They manufacture good ropes, and even a tolerably fine thread, from a sort of weed found in their neighborhood ; and con- struct bowls and jugs out of a kind of basket- work formed from small strips of wood plaited : these by the aid of a little wax, they render perfectly water tight. Beside the roots on which fhey mainly depend for subsistence, they collect great quantities of seed of various kinds, beaten with one hand out of the tops of the plants into wooden bowls held for that purpose. The seed thus collected is winnowed and parched, and ground between two stones into a kind of meal or flour ; which, when mixed with water, forms a very palatable paste or gruel. r • :V1 ' 338 J}onncvlUc'0 B^vcnturcd u. ifi; i ! m S!r Some of lliese people, more provident and industrious than the rest, lay up a stock of dried salmon, and other fish for winter: with these, they were ready to traffic with the trav- ellers for any objects of utility in Indian life ; giving a large quantity in exchange for an awl, a knife, or a fish-hook. Others were in the most abject state of want and starvation, and would even gather up the fish-bones which the travellers threw away after a repast, warm them over again at the fire, and pick them with the greatest avidity. The further Captain Bonneville advanced into the country of these Root Diggers, the more evidence he perceived of their rude and forlorn condition. **They were destitute," says he, ** of the necessary covering to protect them from the weather ; and seemed to be in the most unsophisticated ignorance of any other propriety or advantage in the use of clothing. One old dame had absolutely noth- ing on her person but a thread round her neck from which was pendent a solitary bead." What stage of human destitution, however, is too destitute for vanity ! Though these naked and forlorn-looking beings had neither toilet to arrange, nor beauty to contemplate, their greatest passion was for a mirror. It was a ** great medicine," in their eyes. The IDanite at ft0 Xa0t Sbift 330 sight of one was sufficient, at any time, to throw them into a paroxysm of eagerness and delight ; and they were ready to give anything they had for the smallest fragment in which they might behold their squalid features. With this simple instance of vanity in its prim- itive but vigorous state, we shall close our remarks on the Root Diggers. KND OF VOI^UMK I. iwi. I'^x. \ ' >• ^be Hbventuree of Captain Bonneville '3 LlL. THE ADVEN 'RES OF CAPTAIN BONNEVILLE. Cbapter f • Temperature of the Climate — Root Diggers on Horse- back — An Indian Guide — Mountain Prospects — The Grand Rond — Difficulties on Snake River — A Scram- ble over the Blue Mountains — Su^erings from Hunger — Prospect of the Immahah Valley — The Exhausted Travellei. -m THK temperature of the regions west of the Rocky Mountains is much milder than in the same latitudes on the At- lantic side ; the upper plains, however, which lie at a distance from the sea-coast, are subject in winter to considerable vicissitude ; being traversed by lofty " sierras," crowned with VOL, U, .^.V!^. IMAGE EVALUATION TEST TARGET (MT3) fe^. ^ 1.0 1.1 |io "^ i^H m i- . . 11:25 IIU. 1.6 1 II = ^= ^ 6" » Photographic Sdences Corporation 23 WKST MAIN STRUT WEBSTER, N.Y. MS80 (716) 872-4503 SJ \ s> 4^ ■i .-6^ 'V- !i ■ :■ U ,1,. <: : 1 'Is •I; ■ ' ' It:' I I ■i: ( 3 J8onncviUe'0 B^venturcs ' k perpetual snow, which often produce flaws and streaks of intense cold. This was experienced by Captain Bonneville and his companions in their progress westward. At the time when they left the Bannecks, Snake River was frozen hard : as they proceeded, the ice became broken and floating ; it gradually disappeared, and the weather became warm and pleasant, as they approached a tributary stream called the Little Wyer ; and the soil, which was generally of a watery clay, with occasional in- tervals of sand, was soft to the tread of the horses. After a time, however, the mountains approached and flanked the river ; the snow lay deep in the valleys, and the current was once more ice-bound. Here they were visited by a party of Root Diggers, who were apparently rising in the world, for they had " horse to ride and weapon to wear," and were altogether better clad and equipped than any of the tribe that Captain Bonneville had met with. They were just from the plain of Bois^e River, where they had left a number of their tribe, all as well pro- vided as themselves, having guns, horses, and comfortable clothing. All these they obtained from the Lower Nez Percys, with whom they were in habits of frequent traffic. They ap- peared to have imbibed from that tribe their Bn f itDian Guide noncombative principles, being miid and in- offensive in their manners. Like them, also, they had something of religious feelings ; for Captain Bonneville observed that, before eat- ing, they washed their hands and made a short prayer ; which he understood was their invari- able custom. From these Indians, he obtained a considerable supply of fish, and an excellent and well-conditioned horse, to replace one which had become too weak for the journey. The travellers now moved forward with renovated spirits ; the snow, it is true, lay deeper and deeper as they advanced, but they trudged on merrily, considering themselves well provided for the journey, which could not be of much longer duration. They had intended to proceed up the banks of Gun Creek, a stream which flows into Snake River from the west ; but were assured by the natives that the route in that direction was im- practicable. The latter advised them to keep along Snake River, where they would not be impeded by the snow. Taking one of the Dig- gers for a guide, they set off along the river, and to their joy soon found the country free from snow, as had been predicted, so that their horses once more had the benefit of tolerable pasturage. Their Digger proved an excellent guide, trudging cheerily in the advance. He i>iiM jumnimamianm W-'': * ■ ■: m ! *■': ,1' iSiif' ik- i fiHi I. li:; M I! m: ;i. I ■ -f 4 3DonncviUe'0 Bdventurcd made an unsuccessful shot or two at a deer and a beaver, but at night found a rabbit hole, whence he extracted the occupant, upon which, with the addition of a fish given him by the travellers, he made a hearty supper, and re- tired to rest, filled with good cheer and good humor. The next day the travellers came to where the hills closed upon the river, leaving here and there intervals of undulating meadow land. The river was sheeted with ice, broken into hills at long intervals. The Digger kept on ahead of the party, crossing and recrossing the river in pwirsuit of game, until, unluckily, en- countering a brother Digger, he stole off with him, without the ceremony of leave-taking. Being now left to themselves, they pro- ceeded until they came to some Indian huts, the inhabitants of which spoke a language totally different from any they had yet heard. One, however, understood the Nez Perc£ > guage, and through him they made inquiries as to their route. These Indians were ex- tremely kind and honest, and furnished them with a small quantity of meat : but none of them could be induced to act as guides. Immediately in the route of the travellers lay a high mountain, which they ascended with some diflSculty. The prospect from the sum- (Tbe <3ral1^ 'Rond mit was grand but disheartening. Directly before them towered the loftiest peaks of Ini- mahah, rising far higher than the elevated ground on which they stood ; on the other hand, they were enabled to scan the course of the river, dashing along through deep chasms, between rocks and precipices, until lost in a distant wilderness of mountains, which closed the savage landscape. They remained for a long time contemplating, with perplexed and anxious eye, this wild con- gregation of mountain barriers, and seeking to discover sonie practicable passage. The ap- proach of evening obliged them to give up the task, and to seek some camping ground for the night. Moving briskly forward, and plunging and tossing through a succession of deep snow- drifts they at length reached a valley known among trappers as the ** Grand Rond." which they found entirely free from snow. This if a beautiful and very fertile valley, about twenty miles long and five or six broad ; a bright cold stream called the Fourche de Glace. or Ice River, runs through it. Its sheltered situation, embosomed in mountains, renders it good pasturing ground in the winter time ; when the elk come down to it in great num- bers, driven out of the mountains by the snow. The Indians then resort to it to hunt. They !' I t »' '< 15; ;.' . J' ■'! mil I-! I. !. . 11;.- !':■:■ ! ; ■ If * I r r ^ ::i ■111? 6 Xonncvil\c*9 BM^entnred likewise come to it in the summer time to dig the camash root, of which it produces immense quantities. When this plant is in blossom, the whole valley is tinted by its blue flowers, and looks like the ocean when overcast by a clpud. After passing a night in this valley, the travellers in the morning scaled the neigboring hills, to look out for a more eligible route than that upon which they had unluckily fallen ; and, after much reconnoitring, determined to make their way once more to the river, and to travel upon the ice when the banks should proved impassable. On the second day after this determination, they were again upon Snake River, but, contrary to their expectations, it was nearly free from ice. A narrow ribbon ran along the shore, and sometimes there was a kind of bridge across the stream, formed of old ice and snow. For a short time they jogged along the bank with tolerable facility, but at length came to where the river forced its way into the heart of the mountains, winding be- tween tremendous walls of basaltic rock, that rose perpendicularly from the water edge^ frowning in bleak and gloomy grandeur. Here difficulties of all kinds beset their path. The snow was from two to three feet deep, but soft and yielding, so that the horses had no foot- hold, but kept plunging forward, straining Dftncultfee on Snafie IRivct way be- that edge, Here The tsoft foot- ining ^ themselves by perpetual efforts. Sometimes the crags and promontories forced them iiix>n the narrow ribbon of ice that bordered the shore ; sometimes they had to scramble over vast masses of rock which had tumbled from the impending precipices ; sometimes they had to cross the stream upon the hazardous bridges of ice and snow, sinking to the knee at every step ; sometimes they had to scale slippery acclivities, and to pass along narrow cornices glazed with ice and sleet, a shouldering wall of rock on one side, a yawning precipice on the other, where a single false step would have been fatal. In a lower and less dangerous pass two of their horses actually fell into the river, one was saved with much difficulty, but the boldness of the shore prevented their rescuing the other, and he was swept away by the rapid current. In this way they struggled forward, manfully braving difficulties and dangers, until they came to where the bed of the river narrowed to a mere chasm, wnth perpendicular walls of rock that defied all further progress. Turning their faces now to the mountain, they endeav- ored to cross directly over it ; but, after clam- bering nearly to the summit, found their path closed by insurmountable barriers. Nothing now remained but to retrace their steps. To descend a cragged mountain, how- 8 J8onncviUe'0 Bdpenturee W '■ mi k I ' I ii', .^ J" II I if- ; ! ;ii I' . i I »!■■■! 't ■ : I! ii i! i-,i5': 'I ' 1 n ever, was more difficult and dangerous than to ascend it. They had to lower themselves, cautiously and slowly, from steep to steep, and, while they managed with difficulty to maintain their own footing, to aid their horses by holding on firmly to the rope halters, as the poor animals stumbled among slippery rocks, or slid down icy declivities. Thus, after a day of intense cold, and severe and incessant toil, amidst the wildest scenery, they managed, about nightfall, to reach the camp- ing ground from which they had started in the mornirsg, and for the first time in the course of their rugged and perilous expedition felt their hearts quailing under their multiplied hardships. A hearty supper, a tranquillizing pipe, and a sound night's sleep, put them all in better mood, and in the morning they held a consul- tation as to their future movements. About four miles behind, they had remarked a small ridge of mountains approaching closely to the river. It was determined to scale this ridge, and seek a passage into the valley which must lie beyond. Should they fail in this, but one alternative remained — to kill their horses, dry the flesh for provisions, make boats of the hides, and in these commit themselves to the stream — a measure hazardous in the extreme. Zbe JSluc Aountaine 9 A short inarch brought them to the foot of the mountain, but its steep and cragged sides almost discouraged hope. The only chance of scaling it was by broken masses of rock, piled one upon another, which formed a succession of crags, reaching nearly to the summit. Up these they wrought their way with indescrib- able difficulty and peril, in a zigzag course, climbing from rock to rock, and helping their horses up after them ; which scrambled among the crags like mountain goats ; now and then dislodging some huge stone, which, the mo- ment they had left it, would roll down the mountain, crashing and rebounding with ter- rific din. It was some time after dark before they reached a kind of platform on the summit of the mountain, where they could venture to encamp. The winds, which swept this naked height, had whirled all the snow into the valley beneath, so that the horses found tolerable winter pasturage on the dry grass which re- mained exposed. The travellers, though hun- gry in the extreme, were fain to make a very frugal supper ; for they saw their journey was likely to be prolonged much beyond the antici- pated term. In fact, on the following day they discerned that, although already at a great elevation, they were only as yet upon the shoulder of the I'M lO JSonneville'e Bdvcntures ]\r 'I : H ■ II' IP ;ri-il r'^i^^l i^:. ■ : ( i^i [ }^ mountain. It proved to be a great sierra, or ridge, of immense height, running parallel to the course of the river, swelling by degrees to lofty peaks, but the outline gashed by deep and precipitous ravines. This, in fact, was a part of the chain of Blue Mountains, in which the first adventurers to Astoria experienced such hardships. We will not pretend to accompany the trav- ellers step by step in this tremendous mountain scramble, into which they had unconsciously betrayed themselves. Day after day did their toil continue; peak after peak had they to traverse, struggling with difficulties and hard- ships known only to the mountain trapper. As their course lay north, they had to ascend the southern faces of the heights, where the sun had melted the snow, so as to render the ascent wet and slippery, and to keep both men and horses continually on the strain ; while on the northern sides, the snow lay in such heavy masses that it was necessary to beat a track, down which the horses .might be led. Every now and then, also, their way was impeded by tall and numerous pines, some of which had fallen, and lay in every direction. In the midst of these toils and hardships their provisions gave out. For three days they were without food, and so reduced that they ii-iii Sutreriii00 trom 1>un0er ir could scarcely drag themselves along. At length one of the mules, being about to give out from fatigue and famine, they hastened to dispatch him. Husbanding this miserable supply, they dried the flesh, and for three days subsisted upon the nutriment extracted from the bones. As to the meat, it was packed and preserved as long as they could do without it, not knowing how long they might remain be- wildered in these desolate regions. One of the men was now dispatched ahead to reconnoitre the country, and to discover, if possible, some more practicable route. In the meantime, the rest of the party moved on slowly. After a lapse of three days, the scout rejoined them. He informed them thr*^ Snake River ran immediately below the sierra or mountainous ridge upon which they were travelling; that it was free from precipices, and was at no great distance from them in a direct line ; but that it would be impossible for them to reach it without making a weary cir- cuit. Their only course would be to cross the mountain ridge to the left. Up this mountain, therefore, the weary travellers directed their steps ; and the ascent, in their present weak and exhausted state, was one of the severest parts of this most painful journey. For two days were they toiling 13 Xonncv\i\€*B aDventuree '^'h' i ii' j ■ 1 ; 'If- ' ,' ■ ' ' 1 ! i' ' ;•,. h 1 i- : . II It^ m m i-ii His \ni slowly from cliff to cliff, beating at every step a path through the snow for their faltering horses. At length they reached the summit, where the snow was blown off; but in de- scending on the opposite side, they were often plunging through deep drifts, piled in the hollows and ravines. Their provisions were now exhausted, and they and their horses almost ready to give out with fatigue and hunger, when one afternoon, just as the sun was sinking behind a blue line of distant mountain, they came to the brow of a height from which they beheld the smooth valley of the Immahah stretched out in smil- ing verdure before them. The sight inspired almost a frenzy of de- light. Roused to new ardor, they forgot for a time their fatigues, and hurried down the mountain, dragging their jaded horses after them, and sometimes compelling them to slide a distance of thirty or forty feet at a time. At length they reached the banks of the Immahah. The young grass was just beginning to sprout, and the whole valley wore an aspect of soft- ness, verdure, and repose, heightened by the contrast of the frightful region from which they had just descended. To add to their joy, they observed Indian trails along the margin of the stream, and other signs which gave (Tbc £xbaudtcd (Traveller 13 Ihcm reason to believe that there was an en- campment of the Lower Nez Percys in the neighborhood, as it was within the accustomi^d range of that pacific and hospitable tribe. The pxospect of a supply of food stimulated them to new exertion , and they continued on as fast as the enfeebled state of themselves and their steeds would permit. At length, one of the men, more exhausted than the rest, threw himself upon the grass, and declared he could go no further. It was in vain to attempt to rouse him ; his spirit had given out, and his replies only showed the dogged apathy of despair. His companions, therefore, encamped on the spot, kindled a blazing fire, and searched about for roots with which to strengthen and revive him. They all then made a starveling re- past ; but gathering round the fire, talked over past dangers and troubles, soothed themselves with the persuasion that all were now at an end, and went to sleep with the comforting hope that the morrow would bring them into plentiful quarters. • ninl f ;' Cbaptet If » m u. i Progress in the Valley— An Indian Cavalier — ^The Captain Falls into a Lethprgy — A Nez Perc6 Patri- arch — Hospitable Treatment — The Bald Head — Bargaining — Value of an Old Plaid Cloak —The Family Horse — The Cost of an Indian Present. A TRANQUIL night's rest had sufficiently restored the broken-down traveller to enable him to resume his wayfaring, and all hands set forward on the Indian trail. With all their eagerness to arrive within reach of succor, such was their feeble and emaciated condition, that they advanced but slowly. Nor is it a matter of stu^rise that they shotdd al- most have lost heart as well as strength. It was now (the i6th of February) fifty-three days that they had been travelling in the midst of winter, exposed to all kinds of privations and hardships ; and for the last twenty days they had been entangled in the wild and deso- late labyrinths of the snowy mountains ; 14 Bn f tiDfan Cai^alier 15 climbing and descending icy precipices, and nearly starved with cold and hunger. All the morning they continued following the Indian trail without seeing a human being, and were beginning to be discouraged, when, about noon, they discovered a horseman at a distance. He was coming directly towards them ; but on discovering them, suddenly reined up his steed, came to a halt, and, after reconnoitring them for a time with great ear- nestness, seemed about to make a cautious retreat. They eagerly made signs of peace, and endeavored, with the utmost anxiety, to induce him to approach. He remained for some time in doubt ; but at length, having satisfied himself that they were not enemies, came galloping up to them. He was a fine, haughty-looking savage, fancifully decorated, and mounted on a high-mettled steed, with gaudy trappings and equipments. It was evident that he was a warrior of some conse- quence among his tribe. His whole deport- ment had something in it of barbaric dignity ; he felt, perhaps, his temporary superiority in personal array, and in the spirit of his steed, to the poor, ragged, travel-worn trappers, and their haif-starved horses. Approaching them with an air of protection, he gave them his hand, and, in the Nez Perce language, invited n . !' , 1 Mil J 1 ; 1 '■ i ' i. : .'il ■ , '■■!;' *!i"'lji i < ll i ■ ■ if! - i i" '•, ' '!■' - i" ! l! ! 1 ' \ ii'^ ■li'/ ' , ; 'i ' - ■ i- ;.. I!:.. ' ::!■ .'i i: .' 1 UUl . ■ ■ , M ■ ; i ■ ]■ {-/' . l6 JSonneville'd BDventuree them to his camp, which was only a few miles distant, where he had plenty to eat, and plenty of horses, and would cheerfully share his good things with them. His hospitable invitation was joyfully ac- cepted ; he lingered but a moment, to give directions by which they might find his camp, and then, wheeling round, and giving reins to his mettlesome steed, was soon out of sight. The travellers followed with gladdened hearts, but at a snail's pace ; for their poor horses could scarcely drag one leg after the other. Captain Bonneville, however, experienced a sudden and singular change of feeling. Hith- erto, the necessity of conducting his party, and of providing against every emergency, had kept his mind upon the stretch, and his whole system braced and excited. In no one instance had he flagged in spirit, or felt dis- posed to succumb. Now, however, that all danger was over, and the march of a few miles would bring them to repose and abundance, nis energies suddenly deserted him ; and every faculty, mental and physical, was totally relaxed. He had not proceeded two miles from the point where he had had the interview with the Nez Perc6 chief, when he threw him- self upon the earth, without the power or will to move a muscle, or exert a thought, and, B F.e3 perc^ patriarcb 17 sank almost install y into a profound and dreamless sleep. His companions again came to a halt, and encamped beside him, and there they passed the night. The next morning Captain Bonneville awakened from his long and heavy sleep, much refreshed ; and they all resumed their creeping progress. They had not been long on the march, when eight or ten of the Nez Perc^ tribe came galloping to meet them, lead- ing fresh horses to bear them to their camp. Thus gallantly mounted, they felt new life infused into their languid frames, and dashing forward, were soon at the lodges of the Nez Percys. Here they found about twelve families living together, under the patriarchal sway of an ancient and venerable chief. He rece^'^ed them with the hospitality of the golden age, and with something of the same kind of fare ; for while he opened his arms to make them welcome, the only repast he set before them consisted of roots. They could have wished for something more hearty and substantial ; but, for want of better, made a voracious meal on these humble viands. The repast being over, the best pipe was lighted and sent round ; and this was a most welcome luxury, having lost their smoking apparatus twelve days before, among the mountains. VOL. II.— a t$ JSonnct^Ulc'd BOvcnturcd ;- i. \l 'I ii i lAil , <: ( 1' ' H^l Hi: 'i ; i! -I nil . I' M ■ 'i-i While they were thus enjoying themselves their poor horses were led to the best pastures in the neighborhood, where they were turned loose to revel on the fresh sprouting grass ; so that they had better fare than their masters. Captain Bonneville soon felt himself quite at home among these quiet, inoffensive people. His long residence among their cousins, the Upper Nez Percys, had made him conversant with their language, modes of expression, and all their habitudes. He soon found, too, that he was well known among them, by report, at least, from the constant interchange of visits and messages between the two branches of the tribe. They a fc first addressed him by his name, giving him his title of captain, with a French accent ; but they soon gave him a title of their own, which, as usual with Indian titles, had a peculiar signification. In the case of the cap- tain, it had somewhat of a whimsical origin. As he sat chatting and smoking in the midst of them, he would occasionally take off his cap. Whenever he did so, there was a sensa- tion in the surrounding circle. The Indians would half rise fi-om their recumbent posture, and gaze upon his uncovered head, with their usual exclamation of astonishment. The worthy captain was completely bald, a phe- nomenon very surprising in their eyes. They tTbc JSald t»cad «9 were at a loss to know whether he hnd been scalped in battle, or enjoyed a natural immunity from that belligerent infliction. In a little while he became known among them by an Indian name, signifying " the bald chief." " A soubriquet, " observes the captain, "for which I can find no parallel in history since the days of ' Charles the Bald.' " Although the travellers had banqueted on roots, and been regaled with tobacco smoke, yet their stomachs craved more generous fare. In approaching the lodges of the Nez Percys, they had indulged in fond anticipations of venison and dried salmon ; and dreams of the kind still haunted their imaginations, and could not be conjured down. The keen ap- petites of mountain trappers, quickened by a fortnight's fasting at length got the better of all scruples of pride, and they fairly begged some fish or flesh from the hospitable savages. The latter, however, were slow to break in upon their winter store, which was very limited ; but were ready to furnish roots in abundance, which they pronounced excellent food. At length, Captain Bonneville thought of a means of attaining the much coveted gratification. He had about him, he says, a trusty plaid, an old and valued travelling companion and W ■ t V'n. , ! ■. ii ■ it?.,- hi :• ! i.:!K 90 JSoniteviHc'0 Bdventure0 comforter upon which the rains had descended and the snows and winds beaten, without fur- ther eflfect than somewhat to tarnish its primi- tive lustre. This coat of many colors had excited the admiration, and inflamed the covetousness of both warriors and squaws to an extravagant degree. An idea now occurred to Captain Bonneville, to convert this rainbow garment into the savory viands so much desired. There was a momentary struggle in his mind between old associations and projected indul- gence ; and his decision in favor of the latter was made, he says, with a greater promptness, perhaps, than true taste and sentiment might have required. In a few moments, his plaid cloak was cut into numerous strips. ** Of these," continues he, "with the newly devel- oped talent of a. man-milliner, I speedily con- structed turbans d la Turque^ and fanciful head-gears of divers conformations. These, judiciously distributed among such of the womenkind as seemed of most consequence and interest in the eyes of the patres conscripti, brought us, in a little while, abundance of dried salmon and deers' hearts ; on which we made a sumptuous supper. Another, and a more satisfactory smoke, succeeded this repast, and sweet slumbers answering the peaceful invocation of our pipes, wrapped us in that i;::f M Jibe ^itt'tjoiec delicious rest which is only won by toil and travail." As to Captain Bonneville, he slept in the lodge of the venerable patriarch, who had evi- dently conceived a most disinterested affection for him, as was shown on the following morn- ing. The travellers, invigorated by a good supper and " fresh from the bath of repose," were about to resume their journey, when this affectionate old chief took the captain aside, to let him know how much he loved him. As a proof of his regard, he had determined to give him a fine horse, which would go further than words, and put his good-will beyond all question. So saying, he made a signal, and forthwith a beautiful young horse of a brown color, was led, prancing and snorting, to the place. Captain Bonneville was suitably affected by this mark of friendship ; but his experience in what is proverbially called ** Indian giving, " made him aware that a parting pledge was necessary on his own part, to prove that his friendship was reciprocated. He accordingly placed a handsome rifle in the hands of the venerable chief, whose benevolent heart was evidently touched and gratified by this outward and visible sign of amity. Having now, as he thought, balanced this little account of friendship, the captain was 'M ll 23 JSotmevtIIe'0 B^vcntured Pf'i W-. \ J !i 'I is, n I 1 11 I !'» .1 \\ w i.jirf ( , ip: ^t about to shift his saddle to this noble gifl-horse, when the affectionate patriarch plucked him by the sleeve, and introduced to him a whim- pering, whining, leathern-skinned old squaw, that might have passed for an Egyptian mum- my without drying. "This," said he, "is my wife : she is a good wife — I love her very much. She loves the horse — she loves him a great deal — she will cry very much at losing him. I do not know how I shall comfort her — and that makes my heart very sore." What could the worthy captain do, to con- sole the tender-hearted old squaw, and, per- ad venture, to save the venerable patriarch from a curtain lecture ? He bethou£;ht himself of a pair of ear-bobs : it was true, the patriarch's better-half was of an age and appearance that seemed to put personal vanity out of the ques- tion, but when is personal vanity extinct ? The moment he produced the glittering ear- bobs, the whimpering and whining of the sempiternal beldame was at an end. She eagerly placed the precious baubles in her ears, and, though as ugly as the Witch of Endor, went oflf with a sideling gait, and coquettish air, as though she had been a perfect Semiramis. The captain had now saddled his newly acquired steed, and his foot was in the stirrup, when the affectionate patriarch again stepped Crk »^: ot an Indian present 2.1 'n forward, and presented to him a young Pierced- Nose, who had a peculiarly sulky look. " This," said the venerable chief, " is my son ; he is very good— a great horseman — he always took care of this very fine horse — he brought him up from a colt, and made him what he is. He is very fond of this fine horse — he loves him like a brother — his heart will be very heavy when this fine horse leaves the camp." What could the captain do to reward the youthful hope of this venerable pair, and com- fort him for the loss of his foster brother, the horse ? He bethought him of a hatchet, which might be spared from his slender stores. No sooner did he place the implement in the hands of the young hopeful, than his counte- nance brightened up, and he went oflf rejoicing in his hatchet, to the full as much as did his respectable mother in her ear-bobs. The captain was now in the saddle, and about to Sttart, when the affectionate old patri- arch stepped forward, for the third time, and, while he laid one hand gently on the mane of the horse, held up the rifle in the other. * 'This rifle," said he, ** shall be my great medicine. I will hug it to my heart — I will always love it, for the sake of my good friend, the bald- headed chief. But a rifle, by itself, is dumb — Hi/ 'i; ■! I VI '\ 1;! r!;0 If li ' |:,;. 24 JSonncvillc'd BOvcnturce I cannot make it speak. If I had a little pow> der and ball, I would take it out with me, and would now and then shoot a deer ; and when I brought the meat home to my hungry family, I would say — This was killed by the rifle of my friend, the bald-headed chief, to whom I gave that very fine horse." There was no resisting this appeal : the captain forthwith furnished the coveted supply of powder and ball ; but at the same time put spurs to his very fine gift-horse, and the first trial of his speed was to get out of all further manifestation of friendship on the part of the affectionate old patriarch and his insinuating family. m Cbaptet Iff* Nez Perc^ Camp — A Chief with a Hard Name — The Big Hearts of the Bast— Hospitable Treatment— The Indian Guides — Mysterious Councils — The Lo- quacious Chief— Indian Tomb — Grand Indian Re- ception — An Indian Feast — Town Criers — Honesty of the Nez Percys— The Captain's Attempt at Healing. FOLI^OWING the course of the Immahah, Captain Bonneville and his three com- panions soon reached the vicinity of Snake River. Their route now lay over a succes- sion of steep and isolated hills, with profound valleys. On the second day after taking leave of the aflfectionate old patriarch, as they were descending into one of those deep and abrupt intervals, they descried a smoke, and shortly afterwards came in sight of a small encamp- ment of Nez Percys. The Indians, when they ascertained that it was a party of white men approaching, greeted them with a salute of fire-arms, and invited J9oimevlUe'0 BDveiituree I" U: ,'. i ill! them to encnmp. This band was likewise under the sway of a venerable chief named Yo-mus-ro-y-e-cut ; a name which we shall be careful not to inflict oftener than is necessary upon the reader. This ancient and hard- named chieftain welcomed Captain Bonneville to his camp with the same hospitality and loving-kindness that he had experienced from his predecessors. He told the captain thai he had often heard of the Americans and their generous deeds, and that his buffalo brethren (the Upper Nez Perces) had always spoken of them as the Big-hearted whites of the East, the very good friends of the Nez Percds. • Captain Bonneville felt somewhat uneasy under the responsibility of this magnanimous but costly appellation ; and began to fear he might be involved in a second interchange of pledges of friendship. He hastened, therefore, to let the old chief know his poverty-stricken state, and how little there was to be expected from him. He h. formed him that he and his comrades had long resided among the Upper Nez Percds, and loved them so much that they had throvvii their arms around them, and now held th ' ? close to their hearts. That he had received such good accounts from the Upper Nez Percds of their cousins the I^ower Ne:5 Perpds, th^it t>0dpltablc Crcatmcnt [?wise amed all be jssary harcl- leviUc y and I from iial he I their ethren ken of East, uneasy iiimous fear he nge of irefore, ricken pected irades >erc6s, thro\v ii th /m iceived Percys js, th^it he had become desirous of knowing them as friends and brothers. That hi and his C'>m- panions had accordingly loaded a ' .ide \Mth presents and set off for the country of tlio Lower Nez Percys ; but, unfortunately, had been entrapped for many days among he snowy moinitains; and that the mule with all the pre-*: ; s '"\d fallen into Snake River, and been ..wtpt away by the rapid current. That irit.tead, therefore, of arriving among their friends, the Nez Percys, with light hearts and full hands, they came naked, hungry, and broken down ; and instead of making them presents, must depend upon them even for food. "But," concluded he, "we are going to the white men's fort on the Wallah- Wallah, and will soon return ; and then we will meet our Nez Perc6 friends like the true Big Hearts of the East.'* Whether the hint thrown out in the latter part of the speech had any effect, or whether the old chief acted from the hospitable feelings which, according to the captain, are really in- herent in the Nez Perce tribe, he certainly showed iiO disposition to relax his friendship on learning the destitute circumstances of his guests. On the contrary, he urged the captain to remain with them until the following day, when he would accompany him on his journey, 28 Xonncvii{c*6 adventured H4 m and make him acquainted with all his people. In the meantime, he would have a colt killed and cut up for travelling provisions. This, he carefully explained, was intended not as an article of traffic, but as a gift ; for he saw that his guests were hungry and in need of food. Captain Bon.eville gladly assented to his hospitable arrangement. The carcass of the colt was forthcoming in due season, but the captain insisted that one half of it should be set apart for the use of the chieftain's family. At an early hour the following morning, the little party resumed their journey, accompanied by the old chief and an Indian guide. Their route was over a rugged and broken country, where the hills were slippery with ice and snow. Their horses, too, were so weak and jaded that they could scarcely climb the steep ascents, or maintain their foothold on the frozen declivities. Throughout the whole of the journey, the old chief and the guide were unremitting in their good offices, and contin- ually on the alert to select the best roads, and assist them through all difficulties. Indeed, the captain and his comrades had to be de- pendent on their Indian friends for almost eveiything, for they had lost their tobacco and pipes, those great comforts of the trapper, and had but a few charges of powder left, which it yiSi?0terioud Councils 20 :,the was necessary to husband for the purpose of lighting their fires. In the course of the day the old chief had several private consultations with the guide, and showed evident signs of being occupied with some mysterious matter of mighty im- port. What it was, Captain Bonneville could not fathom, nor did he make much effort to do so. From some casual sentences that he over- heard, he perceived that it was something from which the old man promised himself much satisfaction, and to which he attached a little vainglory, but which he wished to keep a secret ; so he suffered him to spin out his petty plans 'jnmolested. In the evening when they encamped, the old chief and his privy counsellor, the guide, had another mysterious colloquy, after which the guide mounted his horse and departed on some secret mission, while the chief resumed his seat at the fire, and sat humming to him- self in a pleasing but mystic reverie. The next morning, the travellers descended into the valley of the Way-lee- way, a consider- able tributary of Snake River. Here they met the guide returning from his secret errand. Another private conference was held between him and the old managing chief, who now seemed more inflated than ever with mystery, 20 Xonnevnic*e Bdvcnturcs i and self-importance. Numerous fresh trails and various other .signs, persuaded Captain Bonneville that there must be a considerable village of Nez Percys in the neighborhood ; but as his worthy companion, the old chief, said nothing on the subject, and as it appeared to be in some way connected with his secret operations, he asked no questions, but patiently awaited the development of his mystery. As they journeyed on, they came to where two or three Indians were bathing in a small stream. The good old chief immediately came to a halt, and had a long conversation with them, in the course of which he repeated to them the whole history which Captain Bonneville had re- lated to him. In fact, he seems to have been a very sociable, communicative old man ; by no means afflicted with that taciturnity generally charged upon the Indians. On the contrary, he was fond of long talks and long smokings, and evidently was proud of his new friend, the bald-headed chief, and took a pleasure in sounding his praises, and setting forth the power and glory of the Big Hearts of the Bast. Having disburdened himself of everything he had to relate to his bathing friends, he left them to their aquatic disports, and proceeded onward with the captain and his companions. As they approached the Way -lee- way, how- a TlOlarrior'd <3rare 31 rails ptain »rable lood ; chief, >eared secret iently ever, the comniunicative old chief met with another and a very different occasion to exert his colloquial powers. On the banks of the river stood an isolated mound covered with grass. He pointed to it with some emotitm. "The big heart and the strong arm," said he, *' lie buried beneath that sod." It was, in fact, the grave of one of his friends, a chosen warrior of the tribe, who had been slain on this spot when in pursuit of a war party of Shoshokoes, who had stolen the horses of the village. The enemj^ bore off his scalp as a trophy ; but his friends found his body in this lonely place, and com- mitted it to the earth with ceremonials char- acteristic of their pious and reverential feelings. They gathered round the grave and mourned ; the warriors were silent in their grief; but the women and children bewailed their loss with loud lamentations. * ' For three days, ' * said the old man, "we performed the solemn dances for the dead, and prayed the Great Spirit that our brother might be happy in the land of brave warriors and hunters. Then we killed at his grave fifteen of our best and strongest horses, to serve him when he should arrive at the happy hunting ground ; and having done all this, we returned sorrowfully to our homes." 32 Xonncviilc'6 Bdvcnturca ; • B. f : 'l.i I if! While the chief was still talking, an Indian scout came galloping up, and, presenting him with a powder-horn, wheeled round, and was speedily out of sight. The eyes of the old chief now brightened, and all his self-impor- tance returned. His petty mystery was about to explode. Turning to Captain Bonneville, he pointed to a hill hard by, and informed him that behind it was a village governed by a little chief, whom he had notified of the ap- proach of the b^ld-headed chief, and a party of the Big Hearts of the East, and that he was prepared to receive them in becoming style. As, among other ceremonials, he intended to salute them with a discharge of fire-arms, he had sent the horn of gunpowder that they might return the salute in a manner corre- spondent to his dignity. They now proceeded on until they doubled the point of the hill, when the whole popula- tion of the village broke upon their view, drawn out in the most imposing style, and arrayed in all their finery. The efiect of the whole was wild and fantastic, yet singularly striking. In the front rank were the chiefs and principal warriors, glaringly painted and decorated ; behind them were arranged the rest of the people, men, women, and children. Captain Bonneville and his party advanced <3rand f nMan Itcception 33 slowly, exchanging salutes of fire-arms. When arrived within a respectful distance, they dis- mounted. The chiefs then came forward suc- cessively, according to their respective charac- ters and consequence, to offer the hand of good-fellowship ; each filing off when he had shaken hands, to make way for his successor. Those in the next rank followed in the same order, and so on, until all had given the pledge of fiiendship. During all this time, the chief, according to custom, took his stand beside the guests. If any of his people advanced whom he judged unworthy of the friendship or con- fidence of the white men, he motioned them off by a wave of the hand, and they would submissively walk away. When Captain Bon- neville turned upon him an inquiring look, he would observe, ** he was a bad man," or some- thing quite as concise, and there was an end of the matter. ^ Mats, poles, and other materials were now brought, and a comfortable lodge was scon erected for the strangers, where they were kept constantly supplied with wood and water, and other necessaries ; and all their effects were placed in safe keeping. Their horses, too, were unsaddled, and turned loose to graze, and a guard set to keep watch upon them. All this being adjusted, they were conducted VOL. II. 34 JBonncvilU'd Bdvcnturcd i.,-ii to the main building or council house of the village, where an ample repast, or rather banquet, was spread, "which seemed to realize all the gastronomical dreams that had tantalized them during their long starvation ; for here they beheld not merely fish and roots in abundance, but the flesh of deer and elk, and the choicest pieces of buffalo meat. It is need- less to say how vigorously they acquitted themselves on this occasion, and how unneces- sary it was for their hosts to practise the usual cramming principle of Indian hospitality. When the repast was over, a long talk en- sued. The chief showed the same curiosity evinced by his tribe geneially, to obtain in- formation concerning the United States, of which they knew little but what they derived through their cousins, the Upper Nez Perces ; as their traffic is almost exclusively with the British traders of the Hudson's Bay Company. Captain Bonneville did his best to set forth the merits of his nation, and the importance of their friendship to the red men, in which he was ably seconded by his worthy friend, the old chief with the hard name, who did all that he could to glorify the Big Hearts of the East. The chief, and all present, listened with pro- found attention, and evidently with great in- terest ; nor were the important facts thus set tsnalfiind l^ewdpapcrd 35 forth, confined to the audience in the lodge ; for sentence after sentence was loudly repeated by a crier for the benefit of the whole village. This custom of promulgating everything by criers, is not confined to the Nez Percys, but prevails among many other tribes. It has its advantage where there are no gazettes to pub- lish the news of the day, or to report the pro- ceedings of important meetings. And in fact, reports of this kind, viva voce, made in the hearing of all parties, and liable to be contra- dicted or corrected on the spot, are more likely to convey accurate information to the public mind, than those circulated through the press. The office of crier is generally filled by some old man, who is good for little else. A village has generally several of these walking news- papers, as they are termed by the whites, who go about proclaiming the news of the day, giving notice of public councils, expeditions, dances, feasts, and other ceremonials, and ad- vertising anything lost. While Captain Bon- neville remained among the Nez Percys, if a glove, handkerchief, cr anything of similar value, was lost or mislaid, it was carried by the finder to the lodge of the chief, and proclama- tion was made by one of their criers, fcr the owner to come and claim his property. How difficult it is to get at the true charac- 36 3Bonnevt[(c'0 B^venturc^ m 1 ii M ter of these wandering tribes of the wilderness 1 In a recent work, we have had to speak of this tribe of Indians from the experience of other traders who had casually been among them, and who represented them as selfish, inhospitable, exorbitant in their dealings and much addicted to thieving * : Captain Bonne- ville, on the contrary, who resided much among them, and had repeated opportunities of ascer- taining their real character, invariably speaks of them as kind and hospitable, scrupulously honest, and remarkable, above all other Indians that he had met with, for a strong feeling of religion. In fac, so enthusiastic is he in their praise, that he pronounces them, all ignorant and barbarous as they are by their condition, one of the purest-hearted people on the face of the earth. Some cures which Captain Bonneville had effected in simple cases, among the Upper Nez Perces, had reached the ears of their cousins here, and gained for him the reputation of a great medicine man. He had not been long in the village, therefore, before his lodge began to be the resort of the sick and the infirm. The captain felt the value of the reputation thus accidentally and cheaply acquired, and endeavored to sustain it. As he had arrived * Vide Astoria^ chap. Hi. Ebe Captain a Aedictne Aaii 37 at that age when every man is, experimentally, something of a physician, he was enabled to turn to advantage the little knowledge in the healing art which he had casually picked up ; and was sufficiently successful in two or three cases, to convince the simple Indians that re- port had not exaggerated his medical talents. The only patient that effectually baffled his skill, or rather discouraged any attempt at relief, was an antiquated squaw with a church- yard cough, and one leg in the grave ; it being shrunk and rendered useless by a rheumatic affection. This was a case beyond his mark ; however, he comforted the old woman with a promise that he would endeavor to procure something to relieve her, at the fort on the Wallah- Wallah, and would bring it on his return ; with which assurance her husband was so well satisfied, that he presented the captain with a colt, to be killed as provisions for the journey : a medical fee \»rhich was thankfully accepted. While among these Indians, Captain Bonne- ville unexpectedly found an owner for the horse which he had purchased from a Root Digger at the Big Wyer. The Indian" satis- factorily proved that the horse had been stolen from him some time previous, by some un- known thief. " However," said the consider- It>; 38 J8onncvUIe'0 Bdrcnturcd ate savage, "you got him in fair trade — you are more in want of horses than I am : keep him ; he is yours — he is a good horse ; use him well." Thus, in the continual experience of acts of kindness and generosity, which his destitute condition did not allow him to reciprocate, Captain Bonneville passed some short time among these good people, more and more im- pressed with the general excellence of their character. ; I' Cbapter W. Scenery of the Way-lee-way— A Substitute for To- bacco — Sublime Scenery of Snake River — The Gar- rulous old Chief and his Cousin — A Nez Perc^ , Meeting— A Stolen Skin — The Scapegoat Dog— \ Mysterious Conferences — The Little Chief — His Hospitality — The Captain's Account of the United States— His Healing Skill. ON resuming his journey, Captain Bonne- ville was conducted by the same Nez Perc6 guide, whose knowledge of the country was important in choosing the routes and resting places. He also continued to be accompanied by the worthy old chief with the hard name, who seemed bent upon doing the honors of the country, and introducing him to every branch of his tribe. The Way-lee-way, down the banks of which Captain Bonneville and his companions were now travelling, is a considerable stream winding through a succes- sion of bold and beautiful scenes. Sometimes the landscape towered into bold and raountain- 99 -■■-' M <^r,:va?» i^ 44 3BonncviIle'd BDventuree ■ I r 1 i i.i llic Upper Nez Percds, and who welcomed them with open arms. In this neighborhood was the home of their guide, who took leave of them with a profusion of good wishes for their safety and happiness. That night they put up in the hut of a Nez Perce, where they were visited by several warriors from the other side of the river, friends of the old chief and his cousin, who came to have a talk and a smoke with the white men. The heart of the good old chief was overflowing with good-will at thus being surrounded by his new and old friends, and he talked with more spirit and vivacity than ever. The evening passed away in perfect harmony and good-humor, and it was not until a late hour that the visitors took their leave and re-crossed the river. After this constant picture of worth and vir- tue on the part of the Nez Perce tribe, we grieve to have to record a circumstance calcu- lated to throw a temporary* shade upon the name. In the course of the social and harmo- nious evening just mentioned, one of the cap- tain's men, who happened to be something of a virtuoso in his wa}^ and fond of collecting curiosities, produced a small skin, a great rarity in the eyes of men conversant in peltries. It attracted much attention among the visitors from beyond the river, who passed it from one \ Zbe Stolen SItfa # rom one to the other, examined it with looks of lively admiration, and pronounced it a great medicine. In the morning, when the captain and his party were about to set off, the precious skin was missing. Search was made for it in the hut, but it was nowhere to be found ; and it was strongly suspected that it had been pur- loined by some of the connoisseurs from the other side of the river. The old chief and his cousin were indignant at the supposed delinquency of their friends across the water, and called out for them to come over and answer for their shameful con- duct. The others answered to the call with all the promptitude of perfect innocence, and spurned at the idea of their being capable of such outrage upon any of the Big-Hearted na- tion. All were at a loss on whom to fix the crime of abstracting the invaluable skin, when by chance the eyes of the worthies from beyond the water fell upon an unhappy cur, belonging to the owner of the hut. He was a gallows- looking dog, but not more so than most Indian dogs, who, take them in the mass, are little better than a generation oi' vipers. Be that as it may, he was instantly accused of having de- voured the skin in question. A dog accused is generally a dog condemned ; and a dog con- demned is generally a dog executed. So was it 46 %onnc^illc*s B&vcnturca % k^ ill the present instance. The unfortunate cui was arraigned ; his thievish looks substantiated his guilt, and he was condemned by his judges from across the river to be hanged. In vain the Indians of the hut, with whom he was a great favorite, interceded in his behalf. In vain Captain Bonneville and his comrades petitioned that his life might be spared. His judges were inexorable. He was doubly- guilty : first, in having robbed their good friends, the Big Hearts of the East ; secondly, in having brought a doubt on the honor of the Nez Perc6 tribe. He was, accordingly, swung aloft, and pelted with stones to make his death more certain. The sentence of the judges be- ing thoroughly executed, a post-mortem ex- amination of the body of the dog w^as held, to establish his delinquency beyond all doubt, and to leave the Nez Percds without a shadow of suspicion. Great interest, of course, was mani- fested by all present, during this operation. The body of the dog was opened, the intes- tines rigorously scrutinized, but, to the horror of all concerned, not a particle of the skin was to be found — the dog had been unjustly exe- cuted ! A great clamor now ensued, but the most clamorous was the party from across the river, whose jealousy of their good nairie now XTbe OID Cbief f )iM(inant 47 most river, now prompted them to the most vociferous vindica- tions of their innocence. It was with the utmost difficulty that the captain and his com- rades could calm their lively sensibilities, by accounting for the disappearance of the skin in a dozen different ways, until all idea of its having been stolen w^as entirely out of the question. " The meeting now broke up. The warriors returned across the river, the captiin and his comrades proceeded on their journey ; but the spirits of the communicative old chief, Yo- mus-ro-y-e-cut, were for a time completely dampened, and he evinced great mortification at what had just occurred. He rode in silence, except, that now and then he would give way to a burst of indignation, and exclaim, with a shake of the head and a toss of the hand tow- ard the opposite shore — "Bad men, very bad men across the river " ; to each of which brief exclamations, his worthy cousin, Hay-she-in- cow-cow, would respond by a deep guttural sound of acquiescence, equivalent to an amen. After some time, the countenance of the old chief again cleared up, and he fell into repeated conferences, in an undertone, with his cousin, which ended in the departure of the latter, who, applying the lash to his horse, dashed forward and was soon out of sight. In fact, they were 4« JSoniicviIIc'0 BDveiiturc0 if !! L ; W 'J 1 1 ^■j! ; f ■ ■(■ P i 1 '1^ ■ h 1 1 , ,1 1 1 i I 1 1 ( j i 1 mi l" drawing near to the village of another chiel, likewise distinguished by an appellation of some longitude, O-push-y-e-cut ; but commonly known as the great chief. The cousin had l^een sent ahead to give notice of their ap- proach ; a herald appeared as before, bearing a powder-horn, to enable them to respond to the intended salute. A scene ensued, on their ap- proach to the village, similar to that which had occurred at the village of the little chief. The whole population appeared in the field, drawn up in lines, arrayed with the customary regard to rank and dignity. Then came on the fir- ing of salutes, and the shaking of hands, in which last ceremonial every individual, man, woman, and child, participated ; for the Indians have an idea that it is as indispensable an over- ture of friendship among the whites as smoking of the pipe is among the red men. The travel- lers were next ushered to the banquet, where all the choicest viands that the village could furnish were served up in rich profusion. They were afterwards entertained by feats of agility and horse-races ; indeed, their visit to the village seemed the signal for complete festivity. In the meantime, a skin lodge had been spread for their accommodation, their horses and baggage were taken care of, and wood and water supplied in abundance. hX Captain*0 Bccount ot TIlnttcD Stated 49 night, therefore, they retired to their quarters, to enjoy, as they supposed, the repose of vvhieh they stood in need. No such thing, however, was in store for them. A crowd of visitors awaited their appearance, ail eager for a smoke and a talk. The pipe was immediately lighted, and constantly replenished and kept alive until the night was far advanced. As usual, the utmost eagerness was evinced by the guests to learn everything within the scojxj of their comprehension respecting the Ameri- cans, for whom they professed the most frater- nal regard. The captain, in his replies, made use of familiar illustrations, calculated to strike their minds, and impress them with such an idea of the might of his nation, as would in- duce them to treat with kindness and respect all stragglers that might fall in their path. To their inquiries as to the numbers of the people of the United States, he assured them that they were as countless as the blades of grass in the prairies, and that, great as Snake River was, if they were all encamped upon its banks, they would drink it dry in a single day. To these and similar statistics, they listened with profound attention, and apparently, implicit belief. It was, indeed, a striking scene : the captain, with his hunter's dr-^ss and bald head in the midst, holding forth, and his wild audi- VOL. II.— 4 50 JSonncvillc'd BOvcnturca I I ■ fi :i m SI 111 tors seated around like so many statutes, the fire lighting up their painted faces and muscular figures, all fixed and motionless, excepting when the pipe was passed, a question pro- pounded, or a startling fact in statistics received with a movement of surprise and a half-sup- pressed ejaculation of wonder and delight. The fame of the captain as a healer of diseases, had accompanied him to this village, and the great chief, 0-push-y-e-cut, now en- treated him to exert his skill on his daughter, who had been for three days racked with pains, for which the Pierced-Nose doctors could devise no alleviation The captain found her extended on a pallet of mats in excruciating pain. Her father manifested the strongest paternal affec- tion for her, and assured the captain that if he would but cure her, he would place the Ameri- cans near his heart. The worthy captain needed no such inducement. His kind heart was already touched by the sufferings of the poor girl, and his sympathies quickened by her appearance; for she was but about sixteen years of age, and uncommonly beautiful in form and feature. The only difficulty with the captain was, that he knew nothing of her malady, and that his medical science was of the most haphazard kind. After considering and cogitating for some time, as a man is apt «'':.:; -■)!! ■ 1? Ebe Captafn'0 'Rcmeds 51 to do when in a maze of vague ideas, he made a desperate dash at a remedy. By his direc- tions, the girl was placed in <* sort of rude vapor-bath, much used by the Nez Perccs, where i^he was kept until near fainting. He then gave her a dose of gunpowder dissolved in water, and ordered her to be wrapped in buffalo robes and put to sleep under a load of furs and blankets. The remedy succeeded : the next morning she was free from pain, though extremely languid ; whereupon, the captain prescribed for her a bowl of colt's head broth, and that she should be kept for a time on simple diet. The great chief was unbounded in his ex- pressions of gratitude for the recovery of his daughter. He would fain have detained the captain a long time as his guest, but the time for departure nad arrived. When the captain's horse was brought for him to mount, the chief declared that the steed was not worthy of him, and sent for one of his best horses, which he presented in its stead ; declaring that it made his heart glad to see his friend so well mounted. He then appointed a young Nez Perce to ac- company his guests to the next village, and " to carry his talk " concerning them ; and the two parties separated with mutual expressions of kindness and feelings of good-will. 5« JBoniievillc'0 B^veitturee I' i !'!•. The vapor-bath of which we have made mention is in frequent use among the Nez Perce tribe, chiefly for cleanliness. Their sweating-houses, as they call them, are small and close lodges, and the vapor is produced by water poured slowly upon red-hot stones. On passing the limits of O-push-y-e-cut's domains, the travellers left the elevated table- lands, and all the wild and romantic scenery which has just been described. They now t-aversed a gently undulating country, of such fertility that it excited the rapturous admira- tion of two of the captain's followers, a Ken- tuckian and a native of Ohio. They declared that it surpassed any land that they had ever seen, and often exclaimed, what a delight it would be just to run a plough through such a rich and teeming soil, and see it open its bounti- ful promise before the share. Another halt and sojourn of a night was made at the village of a chief named He-mim- el-pilp, where similar ceremonies were; observed and hospitality experienced, as at the preced- ing villages. They now pursued a west-south- west course through a beautiful and fertile region, better wooded than most of the tracts through* which they had passed. In their progress, they met with several bands of Nez Perces, by whom they were invariably treated arrival at fort TRaaUab'TKIlallab S3 with the utmost kindness. Within seven days after leaving the domain of He-mim-el-pilp, they struck the Columbia River at F'ort Wallah- Wallah, where they arrived on the 4th of March, 1834. Cbaptcr V. Fort Wallah-Wallah — Its Commander — Indians in its Neighborhood — Exertions of Mr. Pambrune for Improvement — Religion — Code of Laws — Range of the Lower Nez Percys — Camash, and other Roots — Nez Percys Horses — Preparations for Departure — Refusal of Supplies — Departure — A Laggard and Glutton. ill !li| •'i I 'I: FORT Wallah- Wallah is a trading post of the Hudson's Bay Company, situated just above the mouth of the river of the same name, and on the left bank of the Colum- bia. It is built of driftwood, and calculated merely for defense against any attack of the natives. At the time of Captain Bonneville's arrival, the whole garriLon mustered b«t six or eight men ; and the post was under the superintendence of Mr. Pambrune, an agent of the Hudson's Bay Company. The great post and fort of the company, forming the emporium of its trade on the Pa- Si Abr. pambrunc'0 Bscrtfons 55 cific, is Fort Vancouver ; situated on the riy;lit bank of the Columbia, about sixty miles from the sea, and just above the mouth of the Wal- lamut. To this point the company removed its establishment from Astoria, in 1821, after its coalition with the Northwest Company. Captain Bonneville and his comrades experi- enced a polite reception from Mr. Pambrune, the superintendent : for, however hostile the members of the British Company may be to the enterprises of American traders, they have always manifested great courtesy and hospital- ity to the traders themselves. Fort Wallah-Wallah is surrounded by the tribe of the same name, as well as by the Skyn- ses, and the Nez Percys ; who bring to it the furs and peltries collected in their hunting expedi- tions. The Wallah-Wallahs are a degenerate, worn-out tribe. The Nez Perces are the most numerous and tractable >f the three tribes just mentioned. Mr. Pamhruiae informed Captain Bonneville, that he had been at some pains to introduce the Christian religion, in the Roman Catholic form, among them, where it had evi- dently taken root ; but had become altered and modified, to suit their peculiar habits of thought, and motives of action ; retaining, however, the principal points of faith, and its entire precepts of morality. The same gentle- I , J. ^'fli.^ii ;»!.. t^^BL' -^^BM ■•1;: •I ^1^ ' i^IrI ' 1 ' 1- • v^Ks ■ yWK m ^B ^^B -■ ,» ^^^Br-l r^lilijl ^^K- ' ^'^-W . ■ \ 56 Xonncvi\le*0 Bdi^enturea M I nih i hi If man had given Ihem a code of laws, to which Ihey conformed with scrupulous fidelity. Po- lygamy, which once prevailed among them to a great extent, was now rarely indulged. All the crimes denounced by the Christian faith, met with severe punishment among them. Even theft, so venial a crime among the In- dians, had recently been punished with hang- ing, by sentence of a chief. There certainly appears to be a peculiar sus- ceptibility of moral and religious improvement among this tribe, and they would seem to be one of the very, very few, that had benefited in morals and manners by an intercourse with white men. The parties which visited them about twenty years previously, in the expedi- tion fitted out by Mr. Astor, complained of their selfishness, their extortion, and their thievish propensities. The very reverse of those qualities prevailed among them during the prolonged sojourns of Captain Bonneville. The Lower Nez Perces range upon the Way- lee- way, Immahah, Yenghies, and other of the streams west of the mountains. They hunt the beaver, elk, deer, white bear, and moun- tain sheep. Besides the flesh of these animals, they use a number of roots for food ; some of which would be well worth transplanting and cultivating in the Atlantic States. Among TTbe Xowcr flc3 pcrc^0 57 these is the kamash, a sweet root, about the form and size of an onion, and said to be really delicious. The cowish, also, or biscuit root, about the size of a walnut, which they reduce to a very palatable flour, together with the jackap, aisish, quako, and others, which they cook by steaming them in the ground. In August and September, these Indians keep along the rivers, where they catch and dry great quantities of salmon ; which, while they last, are their principal food. In the \ winter, they congregate in villages formed of comfortable huts, or lodges, covered with mats. They are generally clad in deer-skins, or wool- lens, and extremely well armed. Above all, they are celebrated for owning great numbers of horses, which they mark, and then suffer to range in droves in their most fertile plains. These horses are principally of the pony breed, but remarkably stout and long-winded. They are brought in great numbers to the establish- ments of the Hudson's Bay Company, and sold for a mere trifle. Such is the account given by Captain Bon- neville of the Nez Perces ; who, if not viewed by him with too partial an eye, are certainly among the gentlest and least barbarous people of these remote wildernesses. They invariably signifled to him their earnest wish that an y *^ 38 XonncviVe*B Bdventarea ;'!' m y I i m American post might be established among them ; and repeatedly declared that they would trade with Americans, in preference to any other people. Captain Bonneville had intended to remain some time in this neighborhood, to form an acquaintance with the natives and to collect information, and establish connections that might be advantageous in the way of trade. The delays, however, which he had experi- enced on his journey, obliged him to shorten his sojourn, and to set ofif as soon as possible, so as to reach the rendezvous at the Portneuf at the appointed time. He had seen enough to convince him that an American trade might be carried on with advantage in this quarter ; and he determined soon to return with a stronger party, more completely fitted for the purpose. As he stood in need of some supplies for his journey, he applied to purchase them of Mr. Pambrune ; but soon found the difference be- tween being treated as a guest, or as a rival trader. The worthy superintendent, who had extended to him all the genial rites of hospital- ity, now suddenly assumed a withered-up as- pect and demeanor, and observed that, however he might feel disposed to serve him, personally, he felt bound by his duty to the Hudson's Bay Company, to do nothing which should facili- . i' i- : 'Rcfueal of Supplies 50 tate or encourage the visits of other trailers among t!:e Indians in that part of the country. He endeavored to dissuade Captain Bonneville from returning through the Blue Mountains ; assuring him it would be extremely difficult and dangerous, if not impracticable, at this season of the year ; and advised him co accom- pany Mr. Payette, a leader of the Hudson's Bay Company, who was about to depart with a number of men, by a more circuitous, but safe route, to carry supplies to the company's agent, resident among the Upper Nez Perces. Captain Bon -^"ille, however, piqued at his having refur ^ ^o furnish him with supplies, and doubting the sincerity of his advice, deter- mined to return by the more direct route through the mountains ; though varying his course, in some respects, from that by which he had come, in consequence of information gathered among the neighboring Indians. Accordingly, on the 6th of March, he and his three companions, accompanied by their Nez Percd guides, set out on their return. In the early part of their course, they touched again at several of the Nez Perc6 villages, where they had experienced such kind treat- ment on their way down. They were always welcomed with cordiality ; and everything was done to cheer them on their journey. f It r::i-Mr ) I'^iiief t 60 JSonnerillc'd 'adventurer On leaving the Way-lee-way village, they were joined by a Nez Perce, whose society was welcomed on account of the general gratitude and good-will 'ley felt for his tribe. He soon proved a heavy clog upon the little party, being doltish and taciturn, lazy in the extreme, and a huge feeder. His only proof of intellect was in shrewdly avoiding all labor, and avail- ing himself of the toil of others. When on the march, he always lagged behind the rest, leav- ing to them the task of breaking a way through all difficulties and impediments, and leisurely and lazily jogging along the track, which they had beaten through the snow. At the evening encampment, when others were busy gathering fuel, providing .for the horses, and cooking the evening repast, this worthy Sancho of the wilderness would take his seat quietly and cosily by the fire, puffing away at his pipe, and eying in silence, but with wistful intensity of gaze, the savory morsels roasting for supper. When meal-time arrived, however, then came hit: season of activity. He no longer hung back, and waited for others to take the lead, but distinguished himself by a brilliancy of onset, and a sustained vigor and duration of attack, that completely shamed the effi^rts of his competitors — albeit, experienced trencher- men of no mean prowess. Never had they 1:: B Sancbo of tbc TIQltl^erneed 6i witnessed such a power of mastication, and such marvellous capacity of stomach, as in this native and uncultivated gastronome. Having, by repeated and prolonged assaults, at length completely gorged himself he would wrap him- self up, and lie with the torpor of an anaconda, slowly digesting his way on to the next repast. The gormandizing powers of this worthy were, at first, matters of surprise and merri- ment to the travellers ; but they soon became too serious for a joke, threatening devastation to the flesh-pots ; and he was regarded askance, at his meals, as a regular kill-crop, destined to waste the substance of the party. Nothing but a sense of the obligations they were under to his nation, induced them to bear with such a guest ; but he proceeded, speedily, to relieve them from the weight of these obligations, by eating a receipt in full. Cbapter Df • f!?: !■ ( The Uninvited Guest — Free and Easy Manners — Salutary Jokes — A Prodigal Son— Exit of the Glut- ton — A Sudden Change in Fortune — Danger of a Visit tjo Poor Relauons — Plucking of a Prosperous Man — A Vagabond Toilet — A Substitute for the Very Fine Horse — Hard Travelling— The Uninvited Guest and the Patriarchal Colt — A Beggar on Horse- back — A Catastrophe — Exit of the Merry Vagabond. AS Captain Bonneville and his men were encamped one evening among the hills near Snake River, seated before their fire, enjoying a hearty supper, they were sud- denly surprised by the visit of an uninvited guest. He was a ragged, half-naked Indian hunter, armed with bow and arrows, and had the carcass of a fine buck thrown across his shoulder. Advancing with an alert step, and free and easy air, he threw the buck on the ground, and, without waiting for an invitation, seated himself at their mess, helped himself without ceremony, and chatted to the right and 6a Zbc inninvfted Guest 63 left in the liveliest and most unembarrassed manner. No adroit and veteran dinner hunter of a metropolis could have acquitted himself more knowingly. The travellers were at first completely taken by surprise, and could not but admire the facility with which this ragged cosmopolite made himself at home among them. While they stared he went on, making the most of the good cheer upon which he had so fortunately alighted ; and was soon elbow deep in " pot luck," and greased from the tip of his nose to the back of his ears. As the company recovered from tht sur- prise, they began to feel annoyed at this in- trusion. Their uninvited guest, unlike the generality of his tribe, was somewhat dirty as well as ragged, and they had no relish for such a messmate. Heaping up, therefore, an abundant portion of the **provant " upon a piece of bark which served for a dish, they invited him to confine himself thereto, instead of foraging in the general mess. He complied with ths most accommodating spirit imaginable ; and went on eating and chatting, and laughing and smearing himself, until his whole countenance shone with grease and good-humor. In the course of his repast, his attention was caught by the figure of the gastronome, who, as usual, was gorging him- 1 1 h' I 64 JSonnevtne'0 'Bbvcntntce iM self in dogged silence. A droll cut of the eye showed either that he knew him of old, or perceived at once his characteristics. He immediately made him the butt of his pleasan- tries ; and cracked off two or three good hits, that caused the sluggish dolt to prick up his ears, and delighted all the company. From this time the uninvited guest was taken into favor ; his jokes began to be relished ; his careless, free and easy air, to be considered singularly amusing ; and in the end he was pronounced bj^ the travellers one of the merriest companions and most entertaining vagabonds they had met with in the wilderness. Supper being over, the redoubtable She-wee- slie-ouaiter, for such was the simple name by which he announced himself, declared his intention of keeping company with the party for a day or two, if they had no objection ; and by way of backing his seJf-invitation, presented the carcass of the buck as an earnest of his hunting abilities. By this time, he had so completely effaced the unfavorable impression made by his fiirst appearance, that he was made welcome to the camp, and the Nez Perc6 guide undertook to give him lodging for the night. The next morning, at break of day, he bor- rowed a gun, and was off among the hills, nor was anything more seen of him until a l!;:!? B f^ro^i0aI Son 65 few minutes after the party had eiicaini)ed for the evening, when he again made his apiH.*ar- ance, in his usual frank, careless manner, and threw down the carcass of another noble deer, which he had borne on his back for a con- siderable distance. This evening he was the life of the party, and his open, communicative disposition, free from all disguise, soon put them in possession of his history. He had been a kind of prodigal 1 son in his native village ; living a loose, heed- 'less life, and disregarding the precepts and imperative commands of the chiefs. He had, in consequence, been expelled from the village, but in nowise disheartened at this banishment, had betaken himself to the society of the border Indians, and had led a careless, hap- hazard, vagabond life, perfectly consonant to his humors ; heedless of the future, so long as he had wherewithal for the present ; and fear- ing no lack of food, so long as he had the implements of the chase, and a fair hunting ground. Finding him very expert as a hunter, and being pleased with his eccentricities, and his strange and merry humor. Captain Bonneville fitted him out handsomely as the Nimrod of the party, who all soon became quite attached to him. One of the earliest and most signal VOL. 11,-^5 66 3BonnevtUe'0 Bdventurcd « r 1:1' ' fi :;■ i (.i'tr i!i; • M ' !•'■ services he performed, was to exorcise the insatiate kill-crop, that had hitherto oppressed the party. In fact, the doltish Nez Perc^, who had seemed so perfectly insensible to roug"h treatment of every kind, by which the travellers had endeavored to elbow him out of their society, could not withstand the good-humored bantering, and occasionally sharp wit of She- wee-she. He evidently quailed under his jokes, and sat blinking like an owl in daylight when pestered by the flouts and peckings of mischievous birds. At length his place was found vacant at meal-time ; no one knew when he went off, or whither he had gone, but he was seen no morC; and the vast surplus that remained when the repast was over, showed what a mighty gormandizer had departed. Relieved from this incubus, the little party now went on cheerily. She- wee-she kept them in fun as well as food. His hunting was always successful ; he was ever ready to render any assistance in the camp or on the march ; while his jokes, his antics, and the very cut of his countenance, so full of whim and com- icality, kept everyone in good-humor. In this way they journeyed on until they arrived on the banks of the Immahah, and encamped near to the Nez Perce lodges. Here She- wee-she took a sudden notion to B Iteverdc ot /ortune 67 visit his people, and show off the state of worldly prosperity to which he had so suddenly attained. He accordingly departed in the morning, arrayed in hunter's style, and well appointed with everything befitting his voca- tion. The buoyancy of his gait, the elasticity of his step, and the hilarity of his countenance, showed that he anticipated, with chuckling satisfaction, the surprise he was about to give those who had ejected him from their society in rags. But what a change was there in his whole appearance when he rejoined the party in the evening ! He came skulking into camp like a beaten cur with his tail between his legs. All his finery was gone ; he was naked as when he was bom, with the exception of a scanty flap that answered the purpose of a fig- leaf His fellow- travellers at first did not know him, but supposed it to be some vagrant Root Digger sneaking into the camp ; but when they recognized in this forlorn object their prime wag. She-wee-she, whom they had seen depart in the morning in such high glee and high feather, they could not contain their merriment, but hailed him with loud and repeated peals of laughter. She-wee-she was not of a spirit to be easily cast down ; he soon joined in the merriment as heartily as anyone, and seemed to consider his v'f^ 1 68 JSonncvillc'B BOvcuturcd i^f ; ,1 li' ;. , reverse o( fortune an excellent joke. Captain Honneville, however, thought proper to check his good-humor, and demanded, with some de- gree of sternness, the cause of his altered con- dition. He replied in the most natural and self-complacent style imaginable, *' that he had been among his cousins, who were very poor ; they had been delighted to see him ; still more delighted with his good fortune ; they had taken him to their arms ; admired his equip- ments ; one had begged for this ; another for that " — in fine, what with the poor devil's in- herent heedlessness, and the real generosity of his disposition, his needy cousins had succeeded in stripping him of all his clothes and accoutre- ments, excepting the fig-leaf with which he had returned to camp. Seeing his total want of care and fore- thought. Captain Bonneville determined to let him suffer a little, in hopes it might prove a salutary lesson ; and, at any rate, to make him no more presents while in the neighborhood of his needy cousins. He was left, therefore, to shift for himself in his naked condition ; which, however, did not seem to give him any concern, or to abate one jot of his good-humor. In the course of his lounging about the camp, how- ever, he got possession of a deer-skin ; where- upon, cutting a slit in the. middle, he thrust It^ci pcrcordCd f,9 his head through it, so that the two ends hung down before and behind, something Hke a South American poncho, or the tabard of a herald. These ends he tied together, under the armpits ; and thus arrayed, presented him- self once more before the captain, with an air of perfect self-satisfaction, as though he thought it impossible for any fault to be found with h's toilette. A little further journeying brought the trav- ellers to the pretty village of Nez Perccs, gov- erned by the worthy and affectionate old patriarch who had made Captain Bonneville the costly present of the very fine horse. The old man welcomed them once more to his village with his usual cordiality, and his re- spectable squaw and hopeful son, cherishing grateful recollections of the hatchet and ear- bobs, joined in a chorus of friendly congratu- lation. As the much vaunted steed, once the joy and pride of this interesting family, was now nc.r ly knocked up by travelling, and totally inade- quate to the mountain scramble that lay ahead. Captain Bonneville restored him to the vener- able patriarch, with renewed acknowledgments for the invaluable gift. Somewhat to his sur- prise, he was immediately supplied with a fine two years' old colt in his stead, a substitution ^1 n *ii n 70 MonncviWc'B Bdvcntures .■;. !1" ilii ■fci ■ til which, he afterwards learnt, according to In- dian custom in such cases, he might have claimed as a matter of right. We do not find that any other claims were made on account of this colt. This donation may be regarded, therefore, as a signal punctilio of Indian honor ; but it will be found that the animal soon proved an unlucky acquisition to the party. While at this village, the Nez Perce guide had held consultations with some of the in- habitants as to the mountain tract the party were about to traverse. He now began to wear an anxious aspect, and to indulge in gloomy forebodings. The snow, he had been told, lay to a great depth in the passes of the mountains, and difiiculties would increase as he proceeded. He begged Captain Bonneville, therefore, to travel very slowly, so as to keep the horses in strength and spirit for the hard times they would have to encounter. The captain sur- rendered the regulation of the march entirely to his discretion, and pushed on in the advance, amusing himself with hunting, so as generally to kill a deer or two in the course of the day, and arriving, before the rest of the party, at the spot designated by the guide for the evening's encampment. In the meantime, the others plodded on at the heels of the guide, accompanied by that Zhc f itDfaii Droll 71 merry vagabond, She- wee-she. The primitive garb worn by this droll, left all his nether man exposed to the biting blasts of the mountains. Still his wit was never frozen, nor his sunshiny temper beclouded ; and his innumerable antics and practical jokes, while they quickened the circulation of his own blood, kept his compan- ions in high good-humor. So passed the first day after the departure from the patriarch's. The second day com- menced in the same manner ; the captain in the advance, the rest of the party following on slowly. She- wee-she, for the greater part of time, trudged on foot over the snow, keeping himself warm by haid exercise, and all kinds of crazy capers. In the height of his foolery, the patriarchal colt, which, unbroken to the saddle, was suffered to follow on at large, hap- pened to come within his reach. In a moment, he was on his back> snapping his fingers, and yelping with delight. The colt, unused to such a burden, and half-wild by nature, fell to prancing and rearing and snorting and plung- ing and kicking ; and, at length, set off at full speed over the most dangerous ground. As the route led generally along the steep and craggy sides of the hills, both horse and horse- man were constantly in danger, and more than once had a hair-breadth escape from deadly 72 3Sonncvillc*d BDvciiturcs n ': ii !■•■; i! ■ ii ii;< Hi .1: pi^ i 1^.; '. )■ 'r, J. ■■" ^ 1 peril. Nothing, however, could daunt this madcap savage. He stuck to the colt like a plaster, up ridges, down gullies ; whooping and yelling with the wildest glee. Never did beggar on horseback display more headlong horsemanship. His companions followed him with their eyes, sometimes laughing, sometimes holding in their breath at his vagaries, until they saw the colt make a sudden plunge or start, and pitch his unlucky rider headlong over a precipice. There was a general cry of horror, and all hastened to the spot. They found the poor fellow lying among the rocks below, sadly bruised and mangled. It was al- most a miracle that he had escaped with life. Even in this condition, his merry spirit was not entirely quelled, and he summoned up a feeble laugh at the alarm and anxiety of those who came to his relief. He was extricated from his rocky bed, and a messenger dispatched to inform Captain Bonneville of the accident. The latter returned with all speed, and en- camped the party at the first convenient spot. Here the wounded man was stretched upon buffalo skins, and the captain, who officiated on all occasions as doctor and surgeon to the party, proceeded to examine his wounds. The principal one was a long and deep gash in the thigh, which reached to the bone. Calling Aidadvcnture of Sbc«Xacc«Sbc 73 /or a needle and thread, the captain now pre- pared to sew up the wound, admonishing the patient to submit to the operation with becom- ing fortitude. His gayety was at an end ; he could no longer summon up even a forced smile ; and, at the first puncture of the needle, flinched so piteously, that the captain was obliged to pause, and to order him a powerful dose of alcohol. This somewhat rallied up his spirit and warmed his heart ; all the time of the operation, however, he kept his eyes riveted on the wound, with his teeth set, and a whimsical wincing of the countenance, tliat occasionally gave his nose something of its usual comic curl. When the wound was fairly closed, the cap- tain washed it with rum, and administered a second dose of the same to the patient, who was tucked in for the night, and advised to compose himself to sleep. He was restless and uneasy, however ; repeatedly expressing his fears that his leg would be so much swollen the next day, as to prevent his proceeding with the party ; nor could he be quieted, until the captain gave a decided opinion favorable to his wishes. Early the next morning, a gleam of his merry humor returned, on finding that his wounded limb retained its natural proportions. 'm m ^MBli m' 74 Xon\KVi{ic*6 BDventurc6 |i;" "'irJi On attempting to use it, however, he found himself unable to stand. He made several efforts to coax himself into a belief that he might still continue forward ; but at length, shook his head despondirgly, and said, that ** as he had but one leg,*' it was all in vain to attempt a passage of the mountain. Everyone grieved to part with so boon a companion, and under such disastrous circum- stances. He was once more clothed and equipped, each one making him some parting present. He was then helped on a horse, which Captain Bonneville presented to him ; and after many parting expressions of good- will on both sides, set off on his return to his old haunts ; doubtless, to be once more plucked by his affectionate but needy cousins. ii' Cbapter Wf f • The Difficult Mountain— A Smoke and Consultation — The Captain's Speech— An Icy Turnpike — Danger of a False Step— Arrival on Snake River — Return to Portneuf — Meeting of Comrades. CONTINUING their journey up the course of the Immahah, the travellers found, as they approached the head-waters, the snow increased in quantity, so as to lie two feet deep. They were again obliged, therefore, to beat down a path for their horses, some- times travelling on the icy surface of the stream. At length they reached the place where they intended to scale the mountain ; and, having broken a pathway to the foot, were agreeably surprised to find that the wind had drifted the snow from off the side, so that they attained the summit with but little diffi- culty. Here they encamped, with the inten- tion of beating a track through the mountains. A short experiment, however, obliged them to 71 76 J3onneviUc*0 liX^vcntnxcB give up the attempt, the snow lying in vast drifts, often higher than the horses' heads. Captain Bonneville no,v took the two Indiiui guides, and set out to reconnoitre the neigh- borhood. Observing a high peak v/hich over- topped the rest, he climbed it, and discovered from the summit a pass abotit nine miles long, but so heavily piled with snow, that it seemed impracticable. He now lit a pipe, and, sitting down with the two guides, proceeded to hold a consultation aftfi the Indian mode. For a long while they oil smoked vigorously and in silejice, ponderiiig over the subject-matter be- fore them. At length a discussion commenced, and the opinion in which the two guides con- curred, waSj that the horses could not possibly cross the snows. They advised, therefore, that the party should proceed on foot, and they should take the horses back to the village, where they would be well taken care of until Captain Bonneville should send for them. They urged this advice with great earnestness ; declaring that their chief would be extremely angry, and treat them severely, should any of the horses of his good friends, the white men, be lost, in crossing under their guidance ; and that, therefore, it was good they should not attempt ic. ^ Captain Bonneville sat smoking his pipe, and (Tbc Captain perplexed 77 listening to ihem with Indian silence and gravity. When they had finished, he replied to them in their own style of language. " My friends/' said he, "I have seen the }\iss, and have listened to your words ; you have little hearts. When troubles and dangers l?e in your way, you turn your backs. That is not the way with my nation. When great obstacles present, and threaten to keep them back, their hearts swell, and they push forward. They love to conquer difficulties. But enough for the present. Night is coming on ; let us return to our camp." He moved on, and they followed in silence. On reaching the camp he found the men ex- tremely discouraged. One of their number had been surveying the neighborhood, and seriously assured them, that the snow was at least a hundred feet deep. The captain cheered them up, and diffused fresh spirit in them by his example. Still he was much perplexed how to proceed. About dark there was a slight drizzling rain. An expedient now suggested itself. This was to make two light sleds, place the packs on them, and drag them to the other side of the mountain, thus forming a road in the wet snow, which, should it afterwards freeze would be sufficiently hard to bear tht horses. This plan was promptly put into execution ; ■■if. ■ 78 J3onncpnic*0 BC^vcnturcs ■I f ^i!.. ■'! UIH m the sleds were constructed, the heavy baggage was drawn backward and forward until the road was beaten, when they desisted from their fatiguing labor. The night turned out clear and cold, and by morning, their road was in- crusted with ice sufficiently strong for their purpose. They now set out on their icy turn- pike, and got on well enough, excepting that now and then a horse would sidle out of the track, and immediately sink up to the neck. Then came on toil and difficulty, and they would be obliged to haul up the floundering animal with ropes. One, more unlucky than the rest, after repeated falls, had to be aban- doned in the snow. Notwithstanding these repeated delays, they succeeded, before the sun had acquired sufficient power to thaw the snow, in getting all the rest of their horses safely to the other side of the mountain. Their difficulties and dangers, however, were not yet at an end. They had now to descend, and the whole surface of the snow was glazed with ice. It was necessary, therefore, to wait until the warmth of the sun should m It the glassy crust of sleet, and give them a foothold in the yielding snow. They had a frightful warning of the danger of any movement while the sleet* remained. A wild young mare, in her restlessness, strayed to the edge of the Di(ncu[tic0 o( tbc Aountatnd 70 t if the declivity. One slip was fatal to her ; she lost her balance, careered with headlong velocity down the slippery side of the mountain for more than two thousand feet, and was dashed to pieces at the bottom. When the travellers afterwards sought the carcass to cut it up for food, they found it torn and mangled in the most horrible maimer. It was quite late in the evening before the party de'scended to the ultimate skirts of the snow. Here' they planted large logs below them to prevent their sliding down, and en- camped for the night. The next day they succeeded in bringing down their baggage to the encampment ; then packing all up regularly and loading their horses, they once more set out briskly and cheerfully, and in the course of the following day succeeded in getting to a grassy region. Here their Nez Perce guides declared that all the difficulties of the mountains were at an end, and thf ir course was plain and simple, and needed no further guidance ; they asked leave, therefore, to return home. This was readily granted, with many thanks and presents for their faithful services. They took a long farewell smoke with their white friends, after which, they mounted their horses and set off exchanging many farewells and kind wishes. I m 80 JSonncvtUc*0 BOi^enture^ ^Rha.. hi, ll;: On the following day Captain Bonneville completed his journey down the mountain, and encamped on the borders of Snake River, where he found the grass in great abundance and eight inches in height. In this neighbor- hood he saw on the rocky banks of the river several prismoids of basaltes, rising to the height of fifty or sixty feet. Nothing particularly worthy of note occurred during several days as the party proceeded up along Snake River and across its tributary streams. After crossing Gun Creek they met with various signs that white people were in the neighborhood, and Captain Bonneville made earnest exertions to discover whether they were any of his own people, that he might join them. He oon ascertained that they had been starved out of this tract of country, and had betaken themselves to the buiFalo region, whither he now shaped his course. In pro- ceeding along Snake River, he found small hordes of Shoshonies lingering upon the minor streams, and living upon trout; and other fish, which they catch in great numbers at this sea- son in fish-traps. The greater part of the tribe, however, had penetrated the mountains to hunt the elk, deer, and ahsahto or bighorn. On the 1 2th of May Captain Bonneville reached the Portneuf River, in the vicinity of W 'Return to portncuf 8l which he had left the winter encampment of his company on the preceding Christmas day. He had then expected to be back by the be- ginning of March, but circumstances had de- tained him upwards of two months beyond the time, and the winter encampment must long ere this have been broke i up. Halting on the banks of the Portneuf, he dispatched scouts a few miles above, to visit the old camping ground and search for signals of the party, or of their whereabouts, should they actually have aban- doned the spot. They returned without being able to ascertain anything. Being now destitute of provisions, the travel- lers found it necessary to make a short hunting excursion after buffalo. They made caches^ therefore, in an island in the river, in which they deposited all their baggage, and then set out on their expedition. They were so fortu- nate as to kill a couple of fine bulls, and cutting up the carcasses, determined to husband this stock of provisions with the most miserly care, lest they should again be obliged to venture into the open and dangerous hunting grounds. Returning to their island on the i8th of May, they found that the wolves had been at the caches^ scratched up the contents, and scattered them in every direction. They now constructed a more secure one, in which they deposited VOL. u. — 6 •• JSonncv(Uc*0 BDv»ciiturc0 their heaviest articles, ami then clescended Snake River again, and encami)ed just above the American Falls. Here they proceeded to fortify themselves, intending to remain here, and give their horses an opportunity to recruit their strength with good pasturage, until it should be time to set out for the annual rendez- vous in Bear River Valley. On the first of June they descried four men on the other side of the river, opposite to the camp, and, having attracted their attention by a discharge of rifles, ascertained to their joy that they were some of their own people. From these men Captain Bonneville learnt that the whole party which he had left in the preceding month of December, were encamped on Black- foot River, a tributary of Snake River, not very far above the Portneuf. Thither he pro- ceeded with all possible dispatch, and in a little while had the pleasure of finding himself once more surrounded by his people, who greeted his return among them in the heartiest manner ; for his long-protracted absence had convinced them that he and his three companions had been cut off by some hostile tribe. The party had- suffered much during his absence. They had been pinched by famine and almost starved, and had been forced to repair to the caches at Salmon River. Here they fell 'Reunion ot parties 83 in with the Black feet bands, and considered themselves fortunate in l)eing able to retreat from the dangerous neighborhood without sus- taining any loss. Being thus reunited, a general treat from Captain Bonneville to his men was a matter of course. Two days, therefore, were' given up to such feasting and merriment as their means and situation afforded. What was wanting in good cheer was made up in good will ; the free trappers in particular, distinguished themselves on the occasion, and the saturnalia was enjoyed with a hearty holiday spirit, that smacked of the game flavor of the wilderness. m m H ■ »' I' V. ' Cbaptcr IDfff^ Departure for the Rendezvous — A Vv'ar Party of Black- feet — A Mock Bustle— Sham Fires at Night — War- like Precautions — Dangers of a Night Attack — A Panic among Horses — A Mock Carousal — Skir- mishing with Buffaloes — A Buffalo Bait — Arrival at the Rendezvous — Meeting of Various Bands. i|! I .if'. AFTER the two days of festive indulgence, Captain Bonneville broke up the en- campment, and set out with his motley crew of hired and free trappers, half-breeds, Indians, and squaws, for the main rendezvous in Bear River Valley. Directing his course up the Blackfoot River, he soon reached the hills among which it takes its rise. Here, while on the march, he descried from the brow of a hill, a war party of about sixty Blackfeet, on the plain immediately below him. His situation was perilous ; for the greater part of his people were dispersed in various directions. Still, to betray hesitation or fear, would be to discover his actual weakness, and to invite 84 B Ifboch JBudtle ss 'fl attack. He assumed, instantly, therefore, a belligerent tone ; ordered the squaws to lead the horses to a small grove of ashen trees, and unload and tie them ; and caused a great bustle to be made by his scanty handful — the leaders ridmg hither and thither, and vociferating with all their might, as if a numerous force were getting under way for an attack. To keep up the deception as to his force, he ordered, at night, a number of extra fires to be made in his camp, and kept up a vigilant watch. His men were all directed to keep themselves prepared for instant action. In such cases the experienced trapper sleeps in his clothes, with his rifle beside him, the shot-belt and powder-flask on the stock ; so that, in case of alarm, he can lay his hand upon the v/hole of his equipment at once, and start up, completely armed. Captain Bonneville was also especially care- ful to secure the horses, and set a vigilant guard upon them ; for there lies the great object and principal danger of a night attack. The grand move of the lurking savage is to cause a panic among the horses. In such cases one horse frightens another, until all are alarmed, and struggle to break loose. In camps where there are great numbers of Indians, with their horses, a night alarm of the kind is tre- 86 JSonnevUle'd Bdvcnturcs ; ■; i i \ . mendous. The running of the horses that have broken loose ; the snorting, stamping, and rearing of those which remain fast ; the howUng of dogs ; the yelling of Indians ; the scampering of white men, and red men, with their guns ; the overturning of lodges, and trampling of fires by the horses ; the flashes of the fires, lighting up forms of men and steeds dashing through the gloom, altogether make up one of the wildest scenes of confusion imaginable. In this way, sometimes, all the horses of a camp, amounting to several hun- dred, will be frightened off in a single night. The night passed off without r.ny disturb- ance ; but there was no likelihood that a war party of Blackfeet, once on the track of a camp where there was a chance for spoils, would fail to hover round it. The captain, therefore, continued to maintain the most vigilant pre- cautions ; throwing out scouts in the advance, and on every rising ground. In the course of the day he arrived at the plain of white clay, already mentioned, sur- rounded by the mineral springs, called Beer Springs by the trappers.* Here the men all * In a manuscript journal of Mr. Nathaniel G. Wyeth, w^' find the following mention of this water- ing-place : "There is here a soda spring; or, I may say, fifty B Aocft Caroiidc 87 halted to have a regale. In a few moments every spring had its jovial knot of hard drinkers, with tin cup in hand, indulging in a mock carouse ; quaffing, pledgiirg, toasting, bandy- ing jokes, singing drinking songs, and uttering peals of laughter, until it seemed as if their imaginations had given potency to the beverage, and cheated them into a fit of intoxication. Indeed, in the excitement of the moment, they were loud and extravagant in their commenda- tions of "the mountain tap" ; elevating it above every beverage produced from hops or malt. It was a singular and fantastic scene, suited to a region where everything is strange and peculiar : these groups of trappers, and hunters, and Indians, with their wild costumes, and wilder countenances ; their boisterous gay- ety, and reckless air ; quaffing, and making of them. These springs throw out lime, which de- posits and forms little hillocks of yellowish colored stone. There is, also, here, a warm spring, \^> ich throws out water with a jet ; which is like bilge-water in taste. There are, also, here, peat beds, which some- times take fire, and leave behind a deep, light ashes ; in which animals sink deep. ... I ascended a mountain, and from it could see that Bear River took a short turn round Sheep Rock. There were, in the plain, many hundred mounds of yellowish stone, with a crater on the top, formed of the deposits of the im- pregnated water." i' Mti r. 88 Xonncviiic*B B^venturcd merry round these sparkling fountains ; while beside them lay thf "r weapons, ready to be snatched up for instant service. Painters are fond of representing'banditti at their rude and picturesque carousals ; but here were groups, still more rude and picturesque ; and it needed bill a sudden onset of Blackfeet, and a quick trat ration from a fantastic revel to a furious iii^lee, to have rendered this picture of a trap- per 3 life complete. The beer frolic, however, passed off without any untoward circumstances ; and, unlike most drinking bouts, left neither headache nor heart- ache behind. Captain Bonneville now directed his course up along Bear River ; amusing him- self, occasionally, with hunting the buffalo, with which the country was covered. Some- times, when he saw a huge bull taking his re- pose on a prairie J he would steal along a ravine, until close upon him ; th^n rouse him from his meditations with a pebble, and take a shot at him as he started up. Such is the quickness with which this animal springs upon his legs, that it is not easy to discover the muscular process by which it i» effected. The horse ribes first upon his forelegs ; and the domestic cow upon her hinder limbs but the buffalo lK)unds at once from a couchant to an erect position, with a celerity that baffles the eye. JSufTnlo JSaiting 89 Though from his bulk and rolling gait he does not appear to run with much sv^^iftness, yet, it takes a stanch horso to overtake him, when . t full speed on level ground ; and a buffalo cow is still fleeter in her motion. Among the Indians and half-breeds of the party, were several admirable horsemen arid bold hunters, who amused themselves with a grotesque kind of buffalo bait. Whenever they found a huge bull in the plains, they pre- pared for their teasing and barbarous sport. Surrounding him on horseback, they would discharge their arrows. at him in quick succes- sion, goading him to make an attack ; which, with a dexterous movement of the horse, they would easily avoid. In this way they hovered round him, feathering him with arrows, as he reared and plunged aboul, until he was bristled all over like a porcupine. When they per- ceived in him signs of exhaustion, aud he could no longer be provoked to make battle, they would dismount from their horses, approach him in the rear, and seizing him by the tail, jerk him from side to side, and dra^ him backwards, until the frantic animal, gathering fresh strength from fur}'^, would break from them, and rush, with flashing eyes and a hoarse bellowing, upon any enemy in sight ; but in a little while, his transient excitement at an end, m • ^^ rr Kl'j 1 ?:' ^ n • ffli:. :, 90 JSonncvillc'e Bdventures would pitch headlong on the ground, and ex- pire. The arrows were then plucked forth, the tongue cut out and preserved as a dainty, and the carcass left a banquet for the wolves. Pursuing his course up Bear River, Captain Bonneville arrived, on the 13th of June, at the IvitfV Snake Lake ; where he encamped for four or five da^^s, that he might examine its eho'-cj and outlets. The latter, he found ex- I reimely muddy, and so surrounded by swamps iiiid quagmires, that he was obliged to construct can!>c;^ of rushes, with which to explore them. The mouths of all the streams which fall into this lake from the west, are marshy and in- considerable ; but on the east side there is a beautiful beach, broken occasionally by high and isolated bluffs, which advance upon the lake, and heighten the character of the scenery. The water is very shallow, but abounds with trout, and other small fish. , Having finished his survey of the lake. Cap- tain Bonneville proceeded on his journey, until on the banks of the Bear River, some distance higher up, he came upon the par.y which he had detached a year before, to circumambulate the Great Salt Lake, and ascertain its extent, and the nature of its shores. They had been encamped here about twenty days, and were greatly rejoiced at meeting once more with Great Salt Xaltc 91 their comrades, from whom they had so long been separated. The first inquiry of Captain Bonneville was about the result of their journey, and the information they had procured as to the Great Salt Lake — the object of his intense curiosity and ambition. The substance of their report will be found in the following chapter. Cbapter If. IK' Plan of the Salt Lake Expedition — Great Sandy Deserts — Ogden's River — Trails and Smoke, of Lurking Savages — Thefts at Night — A Trapper's Revenge — Alarms of a Guilty Conscience — A Murderous Victory — Califomian Mountains — Plains Along the Pacific — Arrival at Monterey — Lower California — The Peninsula— Its Settlement by the Jesuits — ^Their Sway over the Indians — ^Their Ex- pulsion — Ruins of a Missionary Establishment — Upper California — Missions — Their Power and Policy — Resources of the Country — Designs of Foreign Nations. IT was on the 24th of July, in the preceding year (1833), that the brigade of forty men set out from the Green River Valley, to explore the Great Salt I^ake. They were to make the complete circuit of it, trapping on all the streams which should fall in their way, and to keep journals and make charts, cal- culated to impart a knowledge of the lake and the surrounding country. All the resources of Captain Bonneville had been tasked to fit Oreat Sands Desert out this favorite expedition. The countr)' lying to the southwest of the mountains, and ranging down to California, was as yet almost unknown ; being out of the buffalo range, it was untraversed by the trapper, who preferred those parts of the wilderness where the roam- ing herds oi that species of animal gave him comparatively an abundant and luxurious life. Still it was said the deer, the elk, and the big- horn were to be found there, so that, with a little diligence and economy, there was no danger of lacking food. As a precaution, however, the party halted on Bear River and hunted for a few days, until they had laid in a supply of dried buffalo meat and venison ; they then passed by the head-waters of the Cassie River, and soon found themselves launched on an immense sandv desert. South- wardly, on their left, they beheld the Great Salt I^ake, spread out like a sea, but they found no stream running into it. A desert extended around them, and stretched to the ' southwest, as far as the eye could reach, rival- ling the deserts of Asia and Africa in sterility. There was neither tree nor herbage, nor spring, nor pool, nor rur.ning stream, nothing but parched wastes of sand, where horse and rider were in danger of perishing. Their sufferings at length became so great 94 JDonncviUc'd BC^iocnturca l\V. that they abandoned their intended course and made towards a range of snowy mountains, biightening in the north, where they hoped to fnid water. After a time t^'ey came upon a small stream leading directly towards these mountains. Having quenched their burning thirst, and refreshed themselves and their weary horses for a time, they kept along this stream, which gradually increased in size, being fed by numerous brooks. After ap- proaching the mountains, it took a sweep towards the southwest, and the travellers still kept along it, trapping beaver as they went, on the flesh of which they subsisted for the present, huslrauding their dried meat for future necessities. The stream on which they had thus fallen is called by some, Mary River, but is more generally known as Ogden's River, from Mr. Peter Ogden, an enterprising and intrepid leader of the Hudson's Bay Company, who first explored it. The wild and half-desert region through which the travellers were ' passing, is wandered over by hordes of Shosho- koes, or Root Diggers, the forlorn branch of the Snake tribe. They are a shy people, prone to keep aloof from the stranger. The travel- lers frequently met with their trails, and saw the smoke of their fires rising in various parts Xurf;iim Savnocd 95 of the vast landscape, so that they knew there were great numbers in the neigh lK)rhood, but scarcely ever were any of theui to be met with. After a time they began to have vexatious proofs that if the Shoshokoes were q' t by day, they were busy at night. The - is dogged by these eavesdroppers ; a morning but various articles were . iK^smg, yet nothing could be seen of the marauders. What particularly exasperated the hunters, was to have their traps stolen from the streams. One moniing, a trapper of a violent and savage character, discovering that his traps had been carried off in the night, took a horrid oath to kill the first Indian he should meet, innocent or guilty. As he was returning with his comrades to camp, he beheld two unfortu- nate Diggers, seated on the bank, fishing. Advancing upon them, he levelled his rifle, shot one upon the spot, and flung his bleeding body into the stream. The other Indian fled, and was suffered to escape. Such is the indif- ference with which acts of violence are regarded in the wilderness, and such the immunity an armed ruffian enjoys beyond the barriers of the laws, that the only punishment this desperado met with, was a rebuke from the leader of the party. The trappers now left the scene of this r ■I .v^a^ ^ ^^.o. IMAGE EVALUATION TEST TARGET (MT-3) 1.0 1.1 11.25 m 122 1122 S 1^ III 2£ 6" -^ Hiotographic Sciences Corporation ^ v k^' 37 <^ 4>.\ 23 WBT MAIN STRUT WIBSTIR.N.Y. UStO (716)172-4503 v\ 96 Xow\evillc*6 Bdvcnturcd ;i :. t infamous tragedy, and kept on westward, down the course of the river, which wound along with a range of mountains on the right hand, and a sandy, but somewhat fertile plain, on the left. As they proceeded, they beheld columns of smoke rising, as before, in various directions, which their guilty consciences now converted into alarm signals, to arouse the country, and collect the scattered bands for vengeance. After a time the natives began to make their appearance, and sometimes in consider- able numbers, but always pacific ; the trappers, however, suspected them of deep laid plans to draw them into ambuscades ; to crowd into and get possession of their camp, and various other crafty and daring conspiracies, which, it is probable, never entered into the heads of the poor savages. In fact, the/ are a simple, timid, inofifensive race, unpracticed in warfare, and scarce provided with any weapons, except- ing for the chase. Their lives are passed in the g^eat sand plains and along the adjacent rivers; they subsist sometimes on fish, at other times on roots and the seeds of a plant called the cat's-tail. They are of the same kind of people that Captain Bonneville found upon Snake River, and whom he found so mild and inoffensive. B AurDerou0 Victory 97 The trappers, however, had persuaded themselves that they were making their way through a hostile country, and that implacable foes hung round their camp or beset their path, watching for an opportunity to surprise them. At length, one day they came to the banks of a stream emptying into Ogden's River, which they were obliged to ford. Here a great num- ber of Shoshokoes were posted on the opposite bank. Persuaded they were there with hostile intent, they advanced upon them, levelled their rifles, and killed twenty -five of them upon the spot. The rest fled to a short dis- tance, then halted and turned about, howl- ing and whining like wolves, and uttering the most piteous wailings. The trappers chased them in every direction ; the poor wretches made no defense, but fled with terror ; neither does it appear from the accounts of the boasted victors, that a weapon had been wielded or a weapon launched by the Indians throughout the affair. We feel perfectly convinced that the poor savages had no hostile intention, but had merely gathered together through motives of curiosity, as others of their tribe had done when Captain Bonneville and his companions passed along Snake River. The trappers continued down Ogden's River, until they ascertained that it lost itself in ^ VOL. II.- If ill 1 1 U'K j';f I 1 I M .,i M 98 Xo\mcvi\{c*e Bdv^cnturcd great swampy lake, to which there was no ap- parent discharge. They then struck directly westward, across the great chain of Californian mountains intervening between these interior plains and the shores of the Pacific. For three and twenty days they were en- tangled among these mountains, the peaks and ridges of which are in many places covered with perpetual snow. Their passes and defiles present the wildest scenery, partaking of the sublime rather than the beautiful, and abound- ing with frightful precipices. The sufferings of the travelle-s among these savage moun- tains were extreme; for a part of the time they were nearly starved. At length, they made their way through them, and came down upon the plains of New California, a fertile region extending along the coast, with magnificent forests, verdant savannas, and prairies that look like stately parks. Here they found deer and other game in abundance, and indemnified themselves for past famine. They now turned towards the south, and passing numerous small bands of natives, posted upon various streams, arrived at the Spanish vi>lage and post of Monterey. This is a small place, containing about two hundred houses, situated in latitude 37® north. It has a capacious bay, with indifferent anchor- Xowct CaUtornta 99 age. The surrounding country is extremely fertile, especially in the valleys ; the soil is richer the further you penetrate into the in- terior, and the climate is described as a per- petual spring. liideed, all California, extending along the Pacific Ocean from latitude 19** 30' 42® north, is represented as one of the most fertile and beautiful regions in North Ame 'ica. Low?r California, in length about seven hundred miles, forms a great peninsula, which crosses the tropics and terminates in the torrid zone. It is separated from the mainland by the Gulf of California, sometimes called the Vermilion Sea; into this gulf empties the Colorado of the West, the Seeds-ke-dee, cr Green River, as it is also sometimes called. The peninsula is traversed by stem and barren mountains, and has many sandy plains, where the only sign of vegetation is the cylindrical cactus growing among the clefts of the rocks. Wherever there is water, however, and vege- table mould, the ardent nature of the climate quickens everything into astonishing fertility. There are valleys luxuriant with the rich and beautiful productions of the tropics. There the sugar-cane and indigo plant attain a per- fection unequalled in any other part of North America. There flourish the olive, the fig, the date, the orange, the citron, the pomegran- 11 ! vh ^ loo Xonncvillc*6 Bdvcnturcd i*?f mm Pi t : ■ i i M, I 14' p... ate, and other fruits belonging to the volup- tuous climates of the south ; with grapes in abundance, that yield a generous wine. In the interior are salt plains ; silver mines and scanty mines of gold are said, likewise, to ex- ist ; and pearls of a beautiful water are to be fished upon the coast. The peninsula of California was settled in 1698, by the Jesuits, who, certainly, as far as the natives were concerned, have generally proved the most beneficent of colonists. In the present instance they gained and main- tained a footing in the country without the aid of military force, but solely by religious influ- ence. They formed a treaty, and entered into the most amicable relations with the natives, then numbering from twenty-five to thirty thousand souls, and gained a hold on their affections, and a control over their minds, that effected a complete change in their condition. They built eleven missionary establishments in the various valleys of the peninsula, which formed rallying places for the surrounding savages, where they gathered together as sheep into the fold, and surrendered themselves and their consciences into the hands of these spiritual pastors. Nothing, we are told, could exceed the implicit and affectionate devotion of the Indian converts to the Jesuit fathers. £SPuIdion of tbe ^ceuftd lOl and the Catholic faith was disseminated widely through the wilderness. The growing power and influence of the Jesuits in the New World, at length excited the jealousy of the Spanish government, and they were banished from the colonies. The governor, who arrived at California to expel them, and to take charge of the country, ex- pected to find a rich and powerful fraternity, with immense treasures hoarded in their mis- sions, and an army of Indians ready to defend them. On the contrary, he beheld a few ven- erable silver-haired priests coming humbly forward to meet him, followed by a throng of weeping, but submissive natives. The heart of the governor, it is said, was so touched by this unexpected sight, that he shed tears ; but he had to execute his orders. The Jesuits were accompanied to the place of their em- barkation by their simple and affectionate parishioners, who took leave of them with tears and sobs. Many of the latter abandoned their hereditary abodes, and wandered oflf to join their southern brethren, so that but a remnant remained in the peninsula. The Franciscans immediately succeeded the Jesuits, and subsequently the Dominicans ; but the latter managed their affairs ill. But two of the missionary establishments are at present ^1 ^y I02 J9onnevtne'0 B^venturc0 # •! ' ! iiM \i' ■■^f 'I i II ; I !■ !•:; !■:' ;i : J .. occupied by priests ; the rest are all in ruins, excepting one, which remains a monument of the former power and prosperity of the order. This is a noble edifice, once the seat of the chief of the resident Jesuits. It is situated in a beautiful valley, about half way between the Gulf of California and the broad ocean, the peninsula being here about sixty miles wide. The edifice is of hewn stone, one story high, two hundred and ten feet in front, and about fifty-five feet deep. The walls are six feet thick, and sixteen feet high, with a vaulted roof of stone, about two feet and a half in thickness. It is now abandoned and desolate : the beautiful valley is without an inhabitant — not a human being resides within thirty miles of the place ! In approaching this deserted mission house from the south, the traveller passes over the mountain of San Juan, supposed to be the highest peak in the Califomias. From this lofty eminence, a vast and magnificent prospect unfolds itself : the great Gulf of California, with the dark blue sea beyond, studded with islands ; and in another direction, the immense lava. plain of San Gabriel. The splendor of the climate gives an Italian effect to the im- mense prospect. The sky is of a deep blue color, and the sunsets are often magnificent Tapper Caltfornia 103 beyond description. Such is a slight and im- perfect sketch of this remarkable peninsula. Upper California extends from latitude 31° 10' to 42® on the Pacific, and inland, to the great chain of snow-capped mountains which divide it from the sand plains of the interior. There are about twenty-one missions in this province, most of which were established about fifty years since, and are generally under the care of the Franciscans. These exert a pro- tecting sway over about thirty-five thousand Indian converts, who reside on the lands around the mission houses. Each of these houses has fifteen miles square of land allotted to it, subdivided into small lots, proportioned to the number of Indian converts attached to the iT'ssion. Some are inclosed with high walls ; but in general they are open hamlets, composed of rows of huts, built of sunburnt bricks ; in some instances whitewashed and roofed with tiles. Many of them are far in the interior, beyond the reach of all military pro- tection, and dependent entirely on the good will of the natives, which never fails them. They have made considerable progpress in teaching the Indians the useful arts. There are native tanners, shoe-makers, weavers, blacksmiths, stonecutters, and other artificers attached to each establishment. Others are If ,i, i m wn u J V I ■ m 1 Hi V ,.s 104 JSonnevilIe'0 Bdventurce taught husbandry, and the rearing of cattle and horses ; while the females card and spin wool, weave, and perform the other duties allotted to their sex in civilized life. No social intercourse is allowed between the unmarried of the opposite sexes after working hours ; and at night they are locked up in separate apart- ments, and the keys delivered to the priests. The produce of the lands, and all the profits arising from sales, are entirely at the disposal of the priests ; whatever is not required for the support of the misson, goes to augment a fund which is under their control. Hides and tallow constitute the principal riches of the missions, and, indeed, the main commerce of the coun- try. Grain might be produced to an unlimited extent at the establishments, were there a sufficient market for it. Olives and grapes are also reared at the missions. Horses and horned cattle abound throughout all this region ; the former may be purchased at from three to five dollars, but they are of an inferior breed. Mules, which are here of a large size and of valuable qualities, cost from seven to ten dollars. There are several excellent ports along this coast. San Diego, Santa Barbara, Monterey, the Bay of San Francisco, and the northern port of Bondago all afford anchorage for ships San f rancidco 105 of the largest class. The port of San Francibco is too well known to require much notice in this place. The entrance from the sea is sixty- seven fathoms deep, and within, whole navies might ride with perfect safety. Two large rivers, which take their rise in mountains two or three hundred miles to the east, and run through a country unsurpassed for soil and climate, empty themselves into the harbor. The country around affords admirable timber for ship-building. In a word, this favored port combines advantages which not only fit it for a grand naval depot, but almost render it capa- ble of being made the dominant military post of these seas. Such is a feeble outline of the Californian coast and country, the value of which is more and more attracting the attention of naval pow- ers. The Russians have always a ship of war upon this station, and have already encroached upon the Californian boundaries, by talking possession of the port of Bondago, and fortify- ing it with several guns. Recent surveys have likew^ise been made, both by the Russians and the English, and we have little doubt, that, at no very distant day, this neglected, and, until recently, almost unknown region, will be found to possess sources of wealth sufficient to sustain a powerful and prosperous empire. Its inhabi- . : I 106 JSonncvUIe'0 B^vet1turc0 I ■/!: tants, themselves, are but little aware of its real riches ; they have not enterprise sufficient to acquaint themselves with a vast interior that lies almost a terra incognita ; nor have they the skill and industry to cultivate properly the fertile tracts along the coast ; nor to prosecute that foreign commerce which brings all the resources of a country into profitable action. B i! enturc0 il: fe'-.i' \->K:M r:i I i r i mf 1 are soon attracted by the bait. As soon as one, fit for their purpose, makes hi^ appear- ance, they run out, and with the lasso, dexter- ously noose him by either leg. After dragging him at full speed until he is fatigued, they secure him more effectually; and tying him on the carcass of the bullock, draw him in triumph to the scene of action. By this time, he is exasperated to such frenzy, that they are sometimes obliged to throw cold water on him, to moderate his fury ; and dangerous would it be, for horse or rider, were he, v/hile in this paroxysm, to break his bonds. A wild bull of the fiercest kind, which has been caught and exasperated in the same man- ner, is now produced, and both animals are turned loose in the arena of a small amphithe- atre. The mortal fight begins instantly ; and always, at first to the disadvantage of Bruin ; fatigued, as he is, by his previous rough riding. Roused, at length, by the repeated goring of the bull, he seizes his muzzle with his sharp claws, and clinging to this most sensitive part, causes him to bellow with rage and agony. In his heat and fury, the bull lolls out his tongue ; this is instantly clutched by the bear ; with a desperate effort he overturns his huge antagonist, and then dispatches him without diflaculty. f udian 'f)or0c«^t icte III Beside this diversion, the travellers were likewise regaled with bull-fights, in the gen- uine style of Old Spain ; the Califomians being considered the best bull-fighters in the Mexican dominions. After a considerable sojourn at Monterey, spent in these very edifying, but not very profitable amusements, the leader of this vaga- bond party set out with his comrades, on his return journey. Instead of retracing their steps through the mountains, they passed round their southern extremity, and, crossing a range of low hills, found themselves in the sandy plains south of Ogden's River ; in traversing which, they again suffered grievously for want of water. In the course of their journey, they encount- ered a party of Mexicans in pursuit of a gang of natives, who had been stealing horses. The savages of this part of California are rep- resented as extremely poor, and armed only with stone-pointed arrows ; it being the wise policy of the Spaniards not to furnish them with fire-arms. As they find it difficult, with their blunt shafts, to kill the wild game of the mountains, they occasionally supply them- selves with food by entrapping the Spanish horses. Driving them stealthily into fast- nesses and ravines, they slaughter them with- X£P^ f-. Pi! I b M .1 '1 i:; p;m ,,.--, t , 112 JSoiinevf(U'0 Bdventurc0 out difficulty, and dry their flesh for provisions. Some they carry off to trade with distant tribes ; and in this way, the Spanish horses pass from hand to hand among the Indians, until they even find their way ucross the Rocky Mountains. The Mexicans are continually on the alert, to intercept these marauders ; but the Indians are apt to outwit them, and force them to make long and wild expeditions in pursuit of their stolen horses. Two of the Mexican party just mentioned joined the band of trappers, and proved them- selves worthy companions. In the course of their journey through the country frequented by the poor Root Diggers, there seems to have been an emulation between them, which could inflict the greatest outrages upon the natives. The trappers still considered them in the light of dangerous foes ; and the Mexicans, very probably, charged them with the sin of horse- stealing ; we have no other mode of accounting for the infamous barbarities of which, ac- cording to their own story, they were guilty; hunting the poor Indians like wild beasts, and killing them without mercy. The Mexicans excelled at this savage sport ; chasing their unfortunate victims at full speed; noosing them round the neck with their lassos, and then dragging them to death ! '• mn wn ;i Captain JQonnevtUe luDi^nant "3 Such are the scanty details of this most dis graceful expedition. At least, such are all that Captain Bonneville had the patience to collect ; for he was so deeply grieved by the failure of his plans, and so indignant at the atrocities related to him, that he turned, with disgust and horror, from the narrators. Had he ex- erted a little of the I^ynch law of the wilder- ness, and hanged those dexterous horsemen in their own lassos, it would but have been a well-merited and salutary act of retributive justice. The failure of this expedition was a blow to his pride, and a still greater blow to his purse. The Great Salt Lake still remained unexplored ; at the same time, the means which had been furnished so liberally to fit out this favorite expedition, had all been squan- dered at Monterey ; and the peltries, also, which had been collected on the way. He would have but scanty returns, therefore, to make this year, to his associates in the United States ; and there was great danger of their becoming disheartened, and abandoning the enterprise. VOL. II.— 8 »^r Im ih ' ' IL;i *■ i ■ ri' Cbaptcr f f • Travellers* Tales — ^Indian I^urkers — Prognostics of Buckeye — Signs and Portents — ^The Medicine Wolf — An Alarm — An Ambush — The Captured Provant — Triumph of Buckeye— Arrival of Supplies— Grand Carouse — Arrangements for the year — Mr. Wyeth and his New-Levied Band. TH^ horror and indignation felt by Captain Bonneville at the excesses of the Cali- fornian adventurers, were not partici- pated by his men ; on the contrary, the events of that expedition were favorite themes in the camp. The heroes of Monterey bore the palm in all the gossipings among the hunters. Their glowing descriptions of Spanish bear-baits and bull-fights especially, were listened to with intense delight ; and had another expedition to California been proposed, the difficulty would have been, to restrain a general eager- ness to volunteer. The captain had not been long at the ren- dezvous when he perceived, by various signs, Z14 f iiDfan Xurftcrd "5 that Indians were lurking in the neighborhood. It was evident that the Blackfoot band, which he had seen when on his march, had dogged his party, and were intent on mischief. He endeavored to keep his camp on the alert ; but it is as difficult to maintain discipline among trappers at a rendezvous, as among sailors when in port. Buckeye, the Delaware Indian, was scandal- ized at this heedlessness of the hunters when an enemy was at hand, and was continually preaching up caution. He was a little prone to play the prophet, and to deal in signs and portents, which occasionally excited the merri- ment of his white comrades. He was a great dreamer, and believed in charms and talismans, or medicines, and could foretell the approach of strangers by the howling or barking of the small prairie wolf. This animal, being driven by the larger wolves from the carcasses left on the hunting grounds by the hunters, follows the trail of the fresh meat carried to the camp. Here the smell of the roast and broiled, mingling with every breeze, keeps them hover- ing about the neighborhood, scenting every blast, turning up their noses like hungry hounds, and testifying their pinching hunger by long whiuing howls, and impatient bark- ings. These are interpreted by the supersti- if mil' mil i f'i I '- ! IlC JSonncviUe'd BDvcnturea :iii 1^!, i:ii' I 4 ri tious Indians into warnings that strangers are at hand ; and one accidental coincidence, Hke the chance fulfilment of an almanac prediction, is sufficient to cover a thousand failures. This little whining, feast-smelling animal is, there- fore, called among Indians the ** medicine wolf" ; and such was one of Buckeye's infal- lible oracles. One morning early, the soothsaying Delaware appeared with a gloomy countenance. His mind was full of dismal presentiments, whether from mysterious dreams, or the intimations of the medicine wolf, does not appear. "Danger," he said, " was lurking in their path, and there would be some fighting before sunset." He was bantered for his prophecy, which was at- tributed to his having supped too heartily, and been visited by bad dreams. In the course of the morning, a party of hunters set out in pursuit of buffalo, taking with them a mule, to bring home the meat they should procure. They had been some few hours absent, when they came clattering at full speed into camp, giving the war-cry of Blackfeet ! Blackfeet ! Every one seized his weapon, and ran to leani the cause of the alarm. It appeared that the hunters, as they were returning leisurely, lead- ing their mule, well laden with prime pieces of buffalo meat, passed close by a small stream SurprieeD \>^ JSIacMcct "7 overhung with trees, about two miles from the camp. Suddenly, a party of Blackfeet, who lay in ambush among the thickets, sprang up with a fearful yell, and discharged a volley at the hunters. The latter immediately threw themselves flat on their horses, put them to their speed, and never paused to look behind until they found themselves in camp. Fortu- nately, they had escaped without a wound ; but the mule, with all the "provant," had fallen into the liands of the enemy. This was a loss, as well as an insult, not to be borne. Every man sprang to horse, and with rifle in hand, galloped off" to punish the Blackfeet, and rescue the buffalo beef. They came too late ; the marauders were off", and all that they found of their mule were the dents of his hoofs, as he had been conveyed off" at a round trot, bearing his savory cargo to the hills to fur- nish the scampering savages with a banquet of roast meat at the expense of the white men. The party returned to camp, balked of their revenge, but still more grievously balked of their supper. Buckeye, the Delaware, sat smoking by his fire, perfectly composed. As the hunters related the particulars of the attack, he listened in silence, with unruffled counte- nance, then pointing to the west, ** The sun ii8 JSonnevfIle'0 BDventures m 'I; n !i ,,, 1 t > Hi ■ h -B i-'ii Mr.in r.^irrr- I- i^-^ :.n fiUi has not yet set," said he, "Buckeye did not dream Hke a fool 1 " All present now recollected the prediction of the Indian at daybreak, and were struck with what appeared to be its fulfilment. They called to mind, also, a long catalogue of foregone presentiments and predictions made at various times by the Delaware, and, in their supersti- tious credulity, began to consider him a veritable seer ; without thinking how natural it was to predict danger, and how likely to have the pre- diction verified in the present instance, when various signs gave evidence of a lurking foe. The various bands of Captain Bonneville's company had now been assembled for some time at the rendezvous ; they had had their fill of feasting and frolicking, and all the species of wild and often uncouth merry-making, which invariably takes place on these occasions. Their horses, as well as themselves, had recovered from past famine and fatigue, and were again fit for active service ; and an impatience began to manifest itself among the men once more to take the field, and set oflF on some wandering expedition. At this juncture Mr. Cerr6 arrived at the rendezvous at the hea^ of a supply party, bring- ing goods and equipments from the States. This active leader, it will be recollected, had *l?;*»l: p Brrival or Supplied 119 embarked the year previously in skin-boats on the Bighorn, freighted with the year's collection of peltries. He had met with misfortunes in the course of his voyage ; one of his frail barks being upset, and part of the furs lost or dam- aged. The arrival of supplies gave the regular fin- ish to the annual revel. A grand outbreak of wild debauch ensued among the mountaineers — drinking, dancing, swaggering, gambling, quarrelling, and fighting. Alcohol, which, from its portable qualities, containing the great- est quantity of fiery spirit in the smallest compass, is the only liquor carried across the mountains, is the inflammatory beverage at these carousals, and is dealt out to the trappers at four dollars a pint. When inflamed by this fiery beverage, they cut all kinds of mad pranks and gambols, «»nd sometimes burn all their clothes in their drunken bravadoes. A camp, recovering from one of these riotous revels, presents a serio-comic spectacle ; black eyes, broken heacis, lack-lustre visages. Many of the trappers have squandered in one drunken frolic the hard-earned wages of a year ; some have run in debt, and must toil on to pay for past pleasure. All are sated with this deep draugiit of pleasure, and eager to commence another trapping campaign ; for hardship and hard Hjpjr) -1 \ '■■"■ 1 If 12U J3onncvillc'd BDvciiturcd V . M ' f^ f 1 ■: ; ( - ■) ;; ;■.'■' 1 f 1- 1 ■■ Vr •'i work, spiced with the stimulants of wild ad- venture, and topped off with an annual frantic carousal, is the lot of the restless trapper. The captain now made his arrangements for the current year. Cerrd and Walker, with a number of men who had been to California, were to proceed f o St. Louis with the packages of furs collected during the past year. Another party, headed by a leader named Montero, was to proceed to the Crow country, trap upon its various streams, and among the Black Hills and thence to proceed to the Arkansas, where he was to go into winter quarters. The captain marked out for himself a widely different course. He intended to make another expedition, with twenty-three men, to the lower part of the Columbia River, and to pro- ceed to the valley of the Multnoniiih. After wintering in those parts, and establishing a trade with those tribes, among whom he had sojourned on his first visit, he would return in the spring, cross the Rocky Mountains, and join Monten and his party in thfe month of July, at the rendezvous of the Arkansas ; where he expected to receive his annual supplies from the States. If the reader will cast his eye upon a map, he may form in idea of the contempt for dis- tance which a m&xi acquires in this vast wil- us m iViid £lpcOttion o( nasctb 121 (lemess, by noticing the extent of country comprised in these projected wantfcriugs Just as the :!ifferent parties were aVMnit to set out on the 3d of July, on their opposite routes, Captain Bonneville received intelligei.ee that Wyeth, the indefatigable leader of the salnion- Hshing enterprise, who had parted with hir.i about a year prevoi sly on the banks of the Bighorn, to dosccnd uiat wild river in a bull- boat, was iiear a^ riand, with a new levied band of huntt.' 1 and trappers, and was on his way once more to the banks of the Columbia., As we take much interest in the novel enter- prise of this " Eastern man,'* and are pleased with his pushing and persevering spirit ; and as his movements are characteristic of life in the wilderness, we will, with the reader's per- mission, while Captain Bonneville is breaking up his camp and saddling his horses, step back a year in time, and a few hundred miles in distance, to the bank of the Bighorn, and launch ourselves with V/yeth in his bull boat ; and though his adventurous voyage will take us many hundreds of miles further down wild nud wandering rivers, yet such is the magic ; «wer 01 the pen, that we promise to bring the reader safe back to Bear River Valley, by the time the last horse is saddled. Vis I ru: i ,: < I flbapter fUl. V A. Voyage in a Bull-Boat T was about the middle of August (1833) that Mr. Nathaniel J. Wyeth, as the reader may recollect, launched his bull- boat at the foot of the rapids of the Bighorn, and departed in advance of the parties of Campbell and Captain Bonneville. His boat was made of three buffalo skins, stretched on a light frame, stitched together, and the seams payed with elk tallow and ashes. It was eighteen feet long, and about five feet six inches wide, sharp at each end, with a round bottom, and drew about a foot and a half of water ; a depth too great for these upper rivers, which abound with shallows and sand-bars. The crew consisted of two half-breeds, who claimed to be white men, though a mixture of the French Creole and the Shawnee and Pota- wattomie. They claimed, moreover, to be thorough mountaineers, and first-rate hunters xaa fr! : ' t Zbc 3Boat and itd Crew 123 — the common boast of these vagabonds of the wilderness. Besides these, there was a Nez Perce lad of eighteen years of age, a kind of servant of all work, w^hose great aim, like all Indian servants, was to do as little work as possible. There was, moreover, a half-breed boy, of thirteen, named Baptiste, son of a Hudson's Bay trader by a Flathead beauty ; who was travelling with Wyeth to see the world and complete his education. Add to these Mr. Milton Sublette, who went as pas- senger, and we have the crew of the little bull- boat complete. It certainly was a slight armament with which to run the gauntlet through countries swarming with hostile hordes, and a slight bark to navigate these endless rivers, tossing and pitching down rapids, running on snags and bumping on sand-bars ; such, however, are the cockle-shells with which these hardy rovers of the wilderness will attempt the wild- est streams ; and it is surprising what rough shocks and thumps these boats will endure, and what vicissitudes they will live through. Their duration, however, is but limited ; they require frequently to be hauled out of the water and dried, to prevent the hides from becoming water-soaked ; and they eventually rot and go to pieces. Vil m 124 JBonnevillc'a Bdvcnturea hi The course of the river was a little to the north of east ; it ran about five miles an hour, over a gravelly bottom. The banks were generally alluvial, and thickly grown with cotton-wood trees, intermingled occasionally with ash and plum trees. Now and then limestone cliffs and promontories advanced upon the river, making picturesque headlands. Beyond the woody borders rose ranges of naked hills. Milton Sublette was the Pelorus of this ad- venturous bark ; being somewhat experienced in this wild kind of navigation. It required all his attention and skill, however, to pilot her clear of sand-bars and snags, or sunken trees. There was often, too, a perplexity of choice, where the river branched into various channels, among clusters of islands ; and oc- casionally the voyagers found themselves aground and had to turn back. It was necessary, also, to keep a wary eye upon the land, for they were passing through the heart of the Crow country, and were con- tinually in reach of any ambush that might be lurking on shore. The most formidable foes that they saw, however, were three grizzly bears, quietly promenading along the bank, who seemed to gaze at them with surprise as they glided by. Herds of buffalo, also, were ^^1 i Crow InMans 2>c0cried 125 moving about, or lying on the ground, like cattle in a pasture. Excepting such inhabitants as these, a perfect solitude reigned over the land. There was no sign of human habita- tion ; for the Crows, as we have already shown, are a wandering people, a race of hunters and warriors, who live in tents and on horseback, and are continually on the move. At night they landed, hauled up their boat to dry, pitched their tent, and made a rousing fire. Then, as it was the first evening of their voyage, they indulged in a regale, relishing their buffalo beef with inspiring alcohol ; after which they slept soundly, without dreaming of Crows or Blackfeet. Early in the morning, they again launched their boat and committed themselves to the stream. In this way, they voyaged for two days without any material occurrence, excepting a severe thunder-storm, which compelled them to put to shore, and wait until it was past. On the third morning, they descried some per- sons at a distance on the river bank. As they were now, by calculation, at no great distance from Fort Cass, a trading post of the American Fur Company, they supposed these might be some of its people. A nearer approach showed them to be Indians. Descrying a woman apart from the rest, they landed and accosted her. P ^ xa6 XonncviUc*6 BDvcnturea I'll: '•in ij III ^ .: t !■ She informed them that the main force of the Crow nation, consisting of five bands, under their several chiefs, were but two or three miles below, on their way up along the river. This was unpleasant tidings, but to retreat was im- possible, and the river afforded no hiding-place. They continued forward, therefore, trusting that, as t^ort Cass was so near at hand, the Crows might refrain from any depredations. Floating down about two miles further, they came in sight of the first band, scattered along the river bank, all well mounted ; some armed with guns, others with bows and arrows, and a few with lances. They made a wildly pictur- esque appearance, managing their horses with dccustomed dexterity and grace. Nothing can be more spirited than a band of Crow cav- aliers. They are a fine race of men, averaging six feet in height, lithe and active, with hawk's eyes and Roman noses. The latter feature is common to the Indians on the east side of the Rocky Mountains ; those on the western side have generally straight or flat noses. Wyeth would fain have slipped by this cav- alcade unnoticed ; but the river, at this place, was not more than ninety yards across ; he was perceived, therefore, and hailed by the vagabond warriors, and we presume, in no very choice language ; for, among their other CrovK^ Ctt^ilttied • -I f I accomplishments, the Crows are famed for possessing a Billingsgate vocabulary of unri- valled opulence, and for being by no means sparing of it whenever an occasion offers. Indeed, though Indians are generally very lofty, rhetorical, and figurative in their lan- guage at all great talks and high ceremonials, yet, if trappers and traders may be believed, they are the most unsavory vagabonds in their ordinary colloquies. They make no hesitation to call a spade a spade ; and when they once undertake to call hard names, the famous pot and kettle, of vituperating memory, are not to be compared with them for scurrility of epithet. To escape the infliction of any compliments of the kind, or the launching, peradventure, of more dangerous missiles, Wyeth landed with the best grace in hio power, and ap- proached the chief of the band. It was Ara- pooish, the quondam friend of Rose the outlaw, and one whom we have already mentioned as being anxious to promote a friendly intercourse between his tribe and the white men. He was a tall, stout man, of good presence, and re- ceived the voyagers very graciously. His people, too, thronged around them, and were officiously attentive after the Crow fashion. One took a great fancy to Baptiste, the Flat- head boy, and a still greater fancy to a ring SI 12S Xo\mcvi\lc*e Bdventurcc on his finger, which he transposed to his own with surprising dexterity, and then disappeared with a quick step among the crowd. Another was no less pleased with the Nez Percd lad, and nothing would do but he must exchange knives with him ; drawing a new knife out of the Nez Percy's scabbard, and putting an old one in its place. Another stepped up and replaced this old knife with one still older, and a third helped himself to knife, scabbard, and all. It was with much difficulty that Wyeth and his companions ex- tricated themselves from the clutches of these officious Crows, before they were entirely plucked. Falling down the river a little further, they came in sight of the second band, and sheered to the opposite side, with the intention of pass- ing them. The Crows were not to be evaded. Some pointed their guns at the boat, and threatened to fire.; others stripped, plunged into the stream, and came swimming across. Making a virtue of necessity, Wyeth threw a cord to the first that came within reach, as if he wished to be drawn to the shore. In this way he was overhauled by every band, and by the time he and his people came out of the busy hands of the last, they were eased of most of their superfluities. Nothing. Xand ptratcd 129 in all probability, but the proximity of the American trading post, kept these land pirates from making a good prize of the bull-boat and all its contents. These bands were in full march, equipped for war, and evidently full of mischief. They were, in fact, the very bands that overrun the land in the autumn of 1833 ; partly robbed Fitzpatrick of his horses and effects ; hunted and harassed Captain Bonneville and his peo- ple ; broke up their trapping campaigns, and, in a word, drove them all out of the Crow country. It has been suspected that they, were set on to these pranks by some of the American Fur Company, anxious to defeat the plans of their rivals of the Rocky Mountain Company : for at this time their competition was at its height, and the trade of the Crow country was a great object of rivalry. What makes this the more probable is, that the Crovrs in their depredations seemed by no means blood-thirsty, but intent chiefly on robbing the parties of their traps and horses, thereby disabling them from prosecuting their hunting. Wc should observe that this year the Rocky Mountain Company were pushing their way up the rivers, and establishing rival posts near those of the American Company ; and that, at the very time of which we are speaking, VOL. 11,-9 E- 130 3$onncvilic*0 BOvcuturce ['■ I i'ii ■|l !l iii' i'i Captain Sublette was ascending the Yellow- stone with a keel boat, laden with supplies ; GO that there was every prospect of this eager rivalship being carried to extremities. The last band of Crow warriors had scarce disappeared in the cloud of dust they had raised, when our voyagers arrived at the mouth of the river, and glided into the current of the Yellowstone. Turning down this stream, they made for Fort Cass, which is situated on the right bank, about three miles below the Bighorn. On the opposite side, they beheld a party of thirty -one savages, which they soon ascertained to be Blackfeet. The width of the river enabled them to keep at a sufficient distance, and they soon landed at Fort Cass. This was a mere fortification against Indians— being a stockade of. about one hundred and thirty feet square, with two bastions at the extreme corners. M'TuUoch, an agent of the American Company, was stationed there with twenty men ; two boats of fifteen tons burden were lying here ; but at certain seasons of the year a steamboat can come up to the fort. They had scarcely arrived, when the Black- feet warriors made their appearance on the opposite bank, displaying two American flags in token of amity. They plunged into the river, swam across, and were kindly received at JSIaclitcct f nOian0 131 the fort. They were some of the very men who had been engaged the year previously in the battle at Pierre's Hole, and a fierce looking set of fellows they were — tall and hawk-nosed, and very much resembling the Crows. They pro- fessed to be on an amicable errand, to make peace with the Crows, and set off in all haste, before night, to overtake them. Wyetli pre- dicted that they would lose their scalps, for he had heard the Crows denounce vengeance on them, for having murdered two of their war- riors who had ventured among them on the faith of a treaty of peace. It is probable, how- ever, that this pacific errand was all a preterxe, and that the real object of the Blackfeet braves was to hang about the skirts of the Crow bands, steal their horses, and take the scalps of strag- glers. At Fort Cass, Mr. Wyeth disposed of some packages of beaver, and a quantity of buffalo robes. On the following morning (August 1 8th), he once more launched his bull-boat, and proceeded down the Yellowstone, which inclined in an east-northeast direction. The river had alluvial bottoms, fringed with great quantities of the sweet cotton- wood, anl in- terrupted occasionally by ** bluffs" of sand- stone. The current occasionally brings down firagments of granite and porphyry. li }i m^ '" 13a 3Doitnevlllc'0 BOvcnturcd 1 i I M !ii i' ■■ In the course of the day, they sawsoinethin«; moving on the bank among the trees, whicli they mistook for game of some kind ; and, being in want of provisions, pulled towards shore. They discovered, just in time, a party of Blackfeet, lurking in the thickets, and sheered, with all speed, to the opposite side of the river. After a time they came in sight of a gang of elk. Wyeth was immediately persuing them, rifle in hand, but saw evident signs of dissatis- faction in his half-breed hunters, who con- sidered him as trenching upon their province, and meddling with things quite above his capacity ; for these veterans of the wilderness are exceedingly pragmatical on points of venery and woodcraft, and tenacious of their superi- ority, looking down with infinite contempt upon all raw beginners. The two worthies, therefore, sallied forth themselves, but after a time, returned empty-handed. They laid the blame, however, entirely on their guns, two miserable old pieces with flint locks, which with all their picking and hammering, were continually apt to miss fire. These great boasters of the wilderness, however, are very often exceeding bad shots, and fortunate it is for them when they have old flint guns to bear the blame. pragmattcal 1)iintcrd 133 The next day they passed where .1 great herd of buffalo were bellowing on a prairie. Again the Castor and Pollnx of the wilderness sallied, and again their flint guns were at fault, and missed fire, and nothing went off but the buffalo. Wyeth now found there was danger of losing his dinner if he depended upon his hunters ; he took rifle in hand, therefore, and went forth bimself. In the course of an hour, he returned laden with buffalo meat, to the great morti- fication of the two regular hunters, who were annoyed at being eclipsed by a greenhorn. All hands now set to work to prepare t!ie mid-day repast. A fire was made under an immense cotton-wood tree, that overshadowed a beautiful piece of meadow Ian 1 ; rich morsels of buffalo hump were Soon roasting before it. In a hearty and prolonged repast, the two un- successful hunters gradually recovered from their mortification, threatened to discard their old flint guns as soon as they should reach the settlements, and boasted more than ever of the wonderful shots they had made, when they had guns that never missed fire. Having hauled up their boat to dry in the sun, previous to making their repast, the voyagers now set it once more afloat, and pro- ceeded on their way. They had constructed a J II lit 134 Xonncviilc*B U^vcnttxtce !M 'V sail out of their old tent, which they hoisted whenever the wind was favorable, and thus skimmed along down the stream. Their voy- age was pleasant notwithstanding the perils by sea and land, with which they were environed. Whenever they could, they encamped on islands, for the greater security. If on the mainland, and in a dangerous neighborhood, they would shift their camp after dark, leaving their fire burning, dropping down the river some distance, and making no fire at their second encampment. Sometimes they would float all night with the current, one keeping watch and steering while the rest slept. In such case, they would haul their boat on shore at noon of the following day to dry ; for not- withstanding every precaution, she was gradu- ally getting water-soaked and rotten. There was something pleasiiigly solemn and mysterious in thus floating down these wild rivers at night. The purity of the atmosphere in these elevated regions gave additional splen- dor to the stars, and heightened the magnifi- cence of the firmament. The occasional rush and laving of the waters ; the vague sounds from the surrounding wilderness ; the dreary howl, or rather whine of wolves from the plains ; the low grunting and bellowing of the buflalo, and the shrill neighing of the elk, JSalO £aai€i» 135 struck the ear with an effect unknown in the daytime. The two knowing hunters had scarcely re- covered from one mortification, when they were fated to experience another. As the boat, was gliding swiftly round a low promontory, thinly covered with trees, one of them gave the alarm of Indians. The boat was instantly shoved from shore, and every one caught up his rifle. *' Where are they ? " cried Wyeth. *' There — there ! riding on horseback ! " cried one of the hunters. "Yes; with white scarfs on!" cried the other. Wyeth looked in the direction they pointed, but descried nothing but two bald eagles, perched on a low dry branch, beyond the thick- ets, and seeming, from the rapid motion of the boat, to be moving swiftly in an opposite di- rection. The detection of this blunder in the two veterans, who prided themselves on the sureness and quickness of their sight, produced a hearty laugh at their expense, and put an end to their vauntings. The Yellowstone, above the confluence of the Bighorn, is a clear stream ; its waters were now gradually growing turbid, and assuming the yellow clay color of the Missouri. The current was about four miles an hour, with oc- I 1! n '' 136 J8onncriUc'0 Bdvcnturcd casional rapids, some of them dangerous ; but the voyagers passed them all without accident. The banks of the river were in many places precipitous, with strata of bituminous coal. They now entered a region abounding with buffalo — that ever-journeying animal, which moves in countless droves from point to point of the vast wilderness ; traversing plains, pour- ing through the intricate defiles of mountains, swimming rivers, ever on the move ; guided on its boundless migrations by some traditionary knowledge, like the finny tribes of the ocean, which, at certain seasons, find their mysterious paths across the deep, and revisit the remotest shores. These great migratory herds of buffalo have their hereditary paths and highways, worn deep through the country, and making for the surest passes of the mountains, and the most practicable fords of the rivers. When once a great column is in full career, it goes straight forward, regardless of all obstacles ; those in front being impelled by the moving mass be- hind. At such times they will break through a camp, trampling down eveiythirig in their course. It was the lot of the voyagers, one night, to encamp at one of these affalo landing-places, and exactly on the trail. They had not been B 'MoodcD JBufTalo 137 long asleep, when they were awakened by a great bellowing and tramping, and the rush, and splash, and snorting of animals in the river. They had just time to ascertain that a buffalo army was entering the river on the op- posite side, and making towards the landing- place. With all haste they moved their boat and shifted their camp, by which time the head of the column had reached the shore, and came pressing up the bank. It was a singular spectacle, by the uncertain moonlight, to behold this countless throng making their way across the river, blowing, and bellowing, and splashing. Sometimes they pass in such dense and continuous column as to form a temporary dam across the river ; the waters of which rise and rush over their backs, or between their squadrons. The roaring and rushing sound of one of these vast herds cross- ing a river, may sometimes in a still night be heard for miles. The voyagers now had game in profusion. They could kill as many buffalo as they pleased, and, occasionally, were wanton in their havoc, especially among scattered herds, that came swimming near the boat. On one occasion, an old buffalo bull approached so near that the half-breeds must fain try to noose him, as they would a wild horse. The noose was success- '4 j'i/. HI , t i\ I i I . 1 ! 1 : ■■ ! I.;.;:. .'Mi ■ifi:^ 138 3BonncviIIc'd BDi^entures fully thrown around his head, and secured him by the horns, and they now promised them- selves ample sport. The buffalo made a pro- digious turmoil in the water, bellowing, and blowing, and floundering ; and they all floated down the stream together. At length he found a foothold on a sand-bar, and taking to his heels, whirled the boat after him, like a whale when harpooned ; so that the hunters were obliged to cast off" their rope, with which strange head-gear the venerable bull made off" to the prairies. On the 24th of August, the bull-boat emerged, with its adventurous crew, into the broad bosom of the mighty Missoxiri. Here, about six miles above the mouth of the Yellow- stone, the voyagers landed at Fort Union, the distributing post of the American Fur Com- pany in the western country. It was a stock- aded fortress, about two hundred and twenty feet square, pleasantly situated on a high bank. Here they were hospitably entertained by Mr. M'Kenzie, the superintendent, and remained with him three days, enjoying the unusual luxuries of bread, butter, milk, and cheese, for the fort was well supplied with domestic cattle, though it had no garden. The atmosphere of these elevated regions is said to be too dry for the culture of vegetables ; yet the voyagers, in B Aclancbol)? Acmento 139 coming down the Yellowstone, had met with plums, grapes, chenies, and currants, and had observed ash and elm trees. Where these grow, the climate cannot be incompatible with gardening. At Fort Union, Wyeth met with a melancholy memento of one of his men. This was a pow- der-flask, which a clerk had purchased from a Blackfoot warrior. It bore the initials of poor More, the unfortunate youth murdered the year previously, at Jackson's Hole, by the Black- feet, and whose bones had been subsequently found by Captain Bonneville. This flask had either been passed from hand to hand of the tribe, or, perhaps, had been brought to the fort by the very savage who slew him. As the bull-boat was now nearly worn out, and altogether unfit for the broader and more turbulent stream of the Missouri, it was given tip, and a canoe of cottonwood, about twenty feet long, fabricated by the Blackfeet, was purchased to supply its place. In this Wyeth hoisted his sail, and bidding adieu to the hospitable superintendent of Fort Union, turned his prow to the east, and set ofif down the Missouri. He had not proceeded many hours, before, in the evening, he came to a large keel boat, at anchor. It proved to be the boat of Captain i 140 J8onneviUe'0 Bdventurcd I •,.■ '1, i William Sublette, freighted with munitions for carrying on a powerful opposition to the Ameri- can Fur Company. The voyagers went c:i board, where they were treated with the hearty hospitality of the wilderness, and passed a social evening, talking over past scenes and adventures, and especially the memorable fight at Pierre's Hole. Here Milton Sublette determined to give up further voyaging in the canoe, and remain with his brother ; accordingly, in the morning, the fellow-voyagers took kind leave of each other, and Wyeth continued on his course. There was now no one on board of his boat that had ever voyaged on the Missouri ; it was, however, all plain sailing down the stream, without any chance of missing the way. All day the voyagers pulled gently along, and landed in the evening and supped ; then re-embarking, they suffered the canoe to float down with the current, taking turns to watch and sleep. The night was calm and serene ; the elk kept up a contintial whinnying or squealing, being the commencement of the season when they are in heat. In the midst of the night, the canoe struck on a sand-bar, and all hands were aroused by the rush and roar of the wild waters, which broke around her. They were all obliged to j ump overboard, i l^aval Contest wftb a J3ear 141 and work hard to get her off, which was ac- complished with much difficulty. In the course of the following day they saw three grizzly bears at different times along the bank. The last one was on a point of land, and was evidently making for the river, to swim across. The two half-breed hunters were now eager to repeat the manoeuvre of the noose ; promising to entrap Bruin, and have rare sport in strangling and drowning him. Their only fear was, that he might take fright and return to land before they could get between him and the shore. Holding back, therefore, until he was fairly committed in the centre of the stream, they then pulled forward with might and main, so as to cut off his retreat, and take him in the rear. One of the worthies stationed himself in the bow, with the cord and slip- noose, the other, with the Nez Perc^, managed the paddles. There was nothing further from the thoughts of honest Bruin, however, than to beat a retreat. Just as the canoe was drawing near, he turned suddenly round and made for it, with a horrible snarl, and a tremendous show of teeth. The affrighted hunter called to his comrades to paddle off. Scarce had they turned the boat, when the bear laid his enormous claws on the gunwale, and attempted to get on board. The canoe was nearly over- i fi , ' 143 asonncville'0 Bdvcnturcs ft A i I :i,;'.-| ( Hi i ! \il S* t' 1 I :■:! turned, and a deluge of water came pouring over the gunwale. All was clamor, terror, and confusion. Every one bawled out — the bear roared and snarled — one caught up a g^n, but water had rendered it useless. Others handled their paddles more effectually, and beating old Bruin about the head and claws, obliged him to relinquish his hold. They now plied their paddles with might and main ; the bear made the best of his way to shore, and so ended the second exploit of the noose — the hunters de- termining to have no more naval contests with grizzly bears. The voyagers were now out of the range of Crows and Blackfeet ; but they were approach- ing the country of the Rees, or Arickaras a tribe no less dangerous, and who were, gen- erally, hostile to small parties. In passing through their country, Wyeth laid by all day, and drifted quietly down the river at night. In this way he passed on, until he supposed himself safely through the region of danger, when he resumed his voyaging in the open day. On the 3d of September he had landed, at mid-day, to dine ; and while some were making a fire, one .of the hunters mounted a high bank to look out for game. He had scarce glanced his eye round, when he perceived horres grazing on the opposite side B pcrUoud Situation '43 of the river. Crouching down, he slunk back to the camp, and reported what he had seen. On further reconnoitring, the voyagers counted twenty-one lodges ; and, from the number of horses, computed that there must be nearly a hundred Indians encamped there. They now drew their t>oat, with all speed and caution, into a thicket of water willows, and remained closely concealed all day. As soon as the night closed in they re-embarked. The moon would rise early ; so that they had but about two hours of darkness to get past the camp. The night, however, was cloudy, with a blus- tering wind. Silently, and with muffled oars, they glided down the river, keeping close under the shore opposite to the camp, watching its various lodges and fires, and the dark forms passing to and fro between them , Suddenly, on turning a point of land, they found them- selves close upon a camp on their own side of the river. It appeared that not more than one half of the band had crossed. They were within a few yards of the shore ; they saw dis- tinctly the savages— some standing, some lying round the fire. Horses were grazing around. Some lodges were set up ; others had been sent across the river. The red glare of the fires upon these wild groups and harsh faces, con- trasted with the surrounding darkness, had a ^' i fill 144 Xo\mcviUc*6 Bdvcnturcd ii.j«^' *?. :^ I: if' J 1* ' ii 'l' I 'M .til '.:i^ M 11 - 'J)> ii. startling effect, as the voyagers suddenly came upon the scene. The dogs of the camp per- ceived them, and barked ; but the Indians, fortunately, took no heed of their clamor. Wyeth instantly sheered his boat into the stream ; when, unluckily, it struck upon a sand-bar, and stuck fast. It was a perilous and trying situation ; for he was fixed between the two camps, and within rifle range cf both. AH hands jumped out into the water, and tried to get the boat off ; but as no one dared to give the word, they could not pull together, and their labor was in vain. In this way they labored for a long time ; until Wyeth thought of giving a signal for a general heave by lift- ing his hat. The expedient succeeded. They launched their canoe again into deep water, and getting in, had the delight of seeing the camp fires of the savages soon fading in the distance. They continued under way the greater part of the night, until far beyond all danger from this band, when they pulled to shore and en- camped. The following day was windy, and they came near upsetting their boat in carrr ing sail. Towards evening, the wind subsided and a beautiful calm night succeeded. They floated along with the current throughout the night, Bfoul of a Snng 14S taking turns to watch and steer. The deep stillness of the night was occasionally inter- rupted by the neighing of the elk, the hoarse lowing of the bufifalo, the hooting of large owls, and the screeching of the small ones, now and then the splash of a beaver, or the gong-like sound of the swan. Part of their voyage was extremely tempes- tuous, with high winds, tremendous thunder, and soaking rain ; and they were repeatedly in extreme danger from driftwood and sunken trees. On one occasion, having continued to float at night, after the moon was down, they ran under a great snag, or sunken tree, with dry branches above the water. These caught the mast, while the boat swung round, broad- side to the stream, and began to fill with water. Nothing saved her from total wreck but cut- ting away the mast. She then drove down the stream, but left one of the unlucky half- breeds clinging to the snag, like a monkey to a pole. It was necessary to run inshore, toil up laboriously along the eddies, and to attain some distance . above the snag, when they launched forth again into the stream, and floated down with it to his rescue. We forbear to detail all the circumstances and adventures of upwards of a month's voy- age, down the windings and doublings of this I VOL. U. — lO I t I " .1 t i 146 3BonncviIIc*d BDvcnturcd vast river ; in the course of which they stoppid occasionally at a post of one of the rival f;.: companies, or at a government agency for an Indian tribe. Neither shall we dwell 11 pen the changes of climate and productions, as the voyagerj swept down from north to soutli, across several degrees of latitude, arriving at the regions of oaks and sycamores ; of mul berry and basswood trees ; of paroquets and wild turkeys. This is one of tne character- istics of the middle and lower part of the Missouri ; but still more so of the Mississippi, whose rapid current traverses a succession cf latitudes, so as in a few days to float the voy- ager almost from the frozen regions to the tropics. '; The voyage of Wyeth shows the regular unobstructed flow of the r^'vers on the east side of the Rocky Mountains, in contrast to those of the western side, where rocks and rapids continually menace and obstruct the voyager. We find him in a frail bark of skin.;, launching himself in a stream at the foot cf the Rocky Mountains, and floating down from river to river, as they empty themselves into each other; and so he might have "kept on upwards of two thousand miles, until his little bark should drift into the ocean. At present, we shall stop with him at Cantonment I^eaven- XLbc ** Wbitc Squawd »» M7 worth, the frontier post of the United States, where he arrived on the 27th of September. Here, his first care was to have his Nez Percd Indian, and his half-breed boy, Baptiste, vaccinated. As they approached the fort, they were hailed by the sentinel. The sight of a soldier in full array, with what appeared to be a long knife glittering on the end of his musket, struck Baptiste with such affright, that he took to his heels, bawling for mercy at the top of his voice. The Nez Perc6 would have followed him, had not Wyeth assured him of his safety. When they underwent the operation of the larcet, the d jtor's wife and another lady were present — both beautiful women. They were the first white women they had seen, and they could not keep their eyes oflF of them. On returning to the boat, they recounted to their companions all that they had observed at the fort ; but were especially eloquent about the white squaws, who, they said, were white as snow, and more beautiful than any human being they had ever beheld. We shall not accompany the 'captain any further in his voyage ; but will simply state, that he made his way to Boston, where he succeeded in organizing an association under the name of "The Columbia River Fishing Ilf Xonncvi\\e*B B^vcntured I I ! I } ■ U M and Trading Company," for his original objects of a salmon fishery and a trade in furs. A brig, the Afary Dacres, had been dispatched for the Columbia with supplies ; and he was now on his way to the same point, at the head of sixty men, whom he had enlisted at St. I/)uis ; some of whom were experienced hunters, and aU more habituated to the life of the wilderness than his first band of " Down- easters." We will now return to Captain Bonneville and his party, whom we left making up their packs and saddling their horses, in Bear River Valley. Cbapter fif f . Departure of Captain Bonneville for the Columbia- Advance of Wyeth — Efforts to Keep the Lead — Hud* son's Bay Party — A Junketing — A Delectable Bever- age — Honey and Alcohol— High Carousing — The Canadian Bon Vivant—Pi. Cache — A Rapid Move — Wyeth and his Plans — His Travelling Companions — Buffalo Hunting — More Conviviality — An Inter- ruption. IT was the 3d of July that Captain Bonne- ville set out on his second visit to the banks of the Columbia, at the head of twenty-three men. He travelled leisurely, to keep his horses fresh, until, on the loth of July a scout brought word that Wyeth, with his band, was but fifty miles in the rear, and push- ing forward with all speed. This caused some bustle in the camp ; for it was important to get to the buffalo ground to secure provisions for the journey. As the horses were too heav- ily laden to travel fast, a cache was digged as promptly as possible, to receive all superfluous ! I50 JSoitticvtUe'0 BDvcntured ii .1 \ i i i' f- 1 baggage. Just as it was finished, a spring burst out of the earth at the bottom. Another cache was therefore digged, about two miles further on, when, as they were about to bury the effects, a line of horsemen, with pack- horses, were seen streaking over the plain, and encamped close by. It proved to be a small band in the service of the Hudson's Bay Company, under the command of a veteran Canadian ; one of those petty leaders, who, with a small party of men, and a small supply of goods, are employed to follow up a band of Indians from one hunting ground to another, and buy up their peltries. Having received numerous civilities from the Hudson's Bay Company, the captain sent an invitation to the officers of the party to an evening regale, and set to work to make jovial preparations. As the night air in these elevated regions is apt to be cold, a blazing fire was soon made, that would have done credit to a Christmas dinner instead of a midsummer banquet. The parties met in high good-fellow- ship. There was abundance of such hunters' fare as the neighborhood furnished ; and it was all discussed with mountain appetites. They talked over all the events of their late cam- paigns ; but the Canadian veteran had been -.nlucky in some of his transactions, and his h.! t. t)onciS and BIcobol 15T brow began to grow cloudy. Captain Bonne- ville remarked his rising spleen, and regretted that he had no juice cf the grape to keep it down. A man's wit, however, is quick and inven- tive in the wilderness ; a thought suggested itself to the captain, how he might brew a delectable beverage. Among his stores was a keg of honey but half exhausted. This he filled up with alcohol, and stirred the fierj^ and mellifluous ingredients together. The glori- ous result may be readily imagined — a happy compound, of strength and sweetness, enough to soothe the most ruffled temper, and unsettle the most solid understanding. The beverage worked to a charm ; the can circulated merrily ; the first deep draught washed out every care from the mind of the veteran ; the second elevated his spirit to the clouds. He was, ii: fact, a boon companion, as all veteran Canadian traders are apt to be. He now became glorious ; talked over all his exploits, his huntings, his fightings with Indian bravcs, his loves with Indian beauties ; sang snatches of old French ditties and Canadian boat songs ; drank deeper and deeper, sang louder and louder, until, having reached a cli- max of drunken gayety, he gradually declined, and at length fell fast asleep upon the ground. i n n « I ! i ft' > I ^ 1/^ 152 JBonnevilIe'0 H^venturcd After a long nap, he again raised his head, imbibed another potation of the "sweet and strong,*' flashed up with another slight blaze of French gayety, and again fell asleep. The morning found him still upon the field of action, but in sad and sorrowful condition, suffering the penalties of past pleasures, and calling to mind the captain's dulcet compound, with many a retch and spasm. It seemed as if the honey and alcohol, which had passed so glibly and smoothly over his tongue, were at war within his stomach ; and that he had a swarm of bees within his head. In short, so helpless and woebegone was his plight, that his party proceeded on their march without him — the captain promising to bring him on in safety, in the after part of the day. As soon as this party had moved off. Captain Bonneville's men proceeded to construct and fill their cache ; and just as it was completed the party of Wyeth was descried at a distance. In a moment all was activity to take the road. The horses were prepared and mounted ; and being lightened of a great part of their burdens, were able to move with celerity. As to the worthy convive of the preceding evening, he was carefully gathered up from the hunter's couch on which he lay, repentant and supine, and| being packed upon one of the horses, was tnii^ctb ®vcrtahC0 JSoniicvillc 153 hurried forward with the convoy, groaning and ejaculating at every jolt. In the course of the day, Wyeth, being lightly mounted, rode ahead of his party, and overtook Captain Bonneville. Their meeting was friendly and courteous ; and they discussed sociably their respective fortunes since they separated on the banks of the Bighorn. Wyeth announced his intention of establishing a small trading post at the mouth of tlie Portneuf, and leaving a few men there, with a quantity of goods, to trade with the neighboring Indians. He was compelle"*. in fact, to this measure, in consequence of t it \ ' fusal of the Rocky Moun- tain Fur Company to take a supply of goods, which he had brought out for them according to contract, and which he had no other mode of disposing of. He further informed Captain Bonneville that the competition between the Rocky Mountain and American Fur Companies, which had led to such nefarious stratagems and deadly feuds, was at an end ; they having divided the country between them, allotting boundaries, within which each was to trade and hunt, so as not to interfere with the other. In companj*^ with Wyeth were travelling two men of science — Mr. Nuttall, the botanist, the same who ascended the Missouri, at the time I i; 4 154 Xonncvi{lc*0 Bdvcntures ff'r * ' f|;''. '^ I : i ! i'l of the expedition to Astoria ; and Mr. Town- shend, the ornithologist. From these gentlemen we may look forward to important information concerning these i Leresting regions. There were three religious missionaries, also, bound to the shores of the Columbia, to spread the light of the Gospel in that fair wilderness. After riding for some time together, in friendly conversation, Wyeth returned to his party, and Captain Bonneville continued to press forward, and to gain ground. At night, he sent off the sadly sober and moralizing chief of the Hudson's Bay Company, under a proper escort, to rejoin his people, his route branching off in a different direction. The latter took a cordial leave of his host, hoping, on some future occasion, to repay his hospitality in kind. In the morning the captain was early on the march, throwing scouts oUv far ahead, to scour hill and dale, in search of buffalo. He had confidently expected to find game in abun- dance, on the head-waters of the Portneuf ; but on reaching that region, not a track was to be seen. At length one of the scouts, who had made a wide sweep away to the head-waters of the Blackfoot River, discovered great herds quietly grazing in the adjacent meadows, He set out I [ <3reat tyct^e of JSuffalo 155 on his retuni, to report his discoveries ; but night overtaking him, he was kindly and hos- pitably entertained at the camp of Wyeth. As soon as day dawned, he hastened to his own camp with the welcome intelligence ; and about ten o'clock of the same morning, Captain Bonneville's party were in the midst of the game. The paclw**^ wxre scarcely off the backs of the mules, when the runners, mounted on the fleet- est horses, were full tilt after the bufialo. Others of the men were busied erecting scaf- folds, and other contrivances, for jerking or drying meat ; others were lighting great fires for the same purpose. Soon the hunters began to make their appearance, bringing in the choicest morsels of buffalo meat ; these were placed upon the scaffolds, and the whole camp presented a scene of lingular hurry and activity. At daylight the next morning, the runners again took the field, with similar success ; and, after an interval of repose made their third and last chase, about twelve o'clock, for by mis time Wyeth 's party was in sight. The game being now driven into a valley, at some dis- tance, Wyeth w^as obliged to fix his camp there ; but he came in the evening to pay Cap- tain Bonneville a visit. He was accompanied by Captain Stewart, the amateur traveller, who 1 X56 J3onneviUe'0 BDveitturcd ;>*. I !'■ 'r^ ii!..( j I ! 1 ji'l. i '. k-i! I . had not yet sated his appetite for the adven- turous life of the wilderness. With him, also, was a Mr. M'Kay, a half-breed, son of the un- fortunate adventurer of the same name, who came out in the fr.-" maritime expedition to Astoria, and was bi a'ii up in the Tonquin. His son had grown up in the employ of the British fur companies ; and was a prime hunter, and a daring partisan. He held, moreover, a farm, in the valley of the Wal- lamut. The three visitors, wiien they reached Cap- tain Bonneville's camp, were surprised to find no one in it but himself and three men ; his party being dispersed in all directions, to make the most of their present chance for hunting. They remonstrated with him on the impru- dence of remaining with so trifling a guard, in a region so full of danger. Captain Bonneville vindicated the policy of his conduct. He never hesitated to send out all his hunters when any important object was to be attained ; and experience had taught him that he was most secure, when his forces were thus distributed over the surrounding country. He then was sure that no enemy could approach from any direction without being discovered by his hun- ters, who have a quick eye for detecting the slightest signs of the proximity of Indians, Aore Coitvtvialtts 157 and who would instantly convey intelligence to the camp. The captain now set to work with his men to prepare a suitable entertainment for his guests. It was a time of plenty in the camp ; of prime hunters' dainties, of buffalo humps and buf- falo tongues, and roasted ribs and broiled marrow-bones. All these were cooked in hun- ters' style ; servea up with a profusion known only on a plentiful hunting ground, and dis- cussed with an appetite that would astonish the puny gourmands of the cities. But above all, and to give a bacchanalian grace to his truly masculine repast, the captain produced his mellifluous keg of home-brewed nectar, which had been so potent over the senses of the veteran of Hudson's Bay. Potations, pottle deep, again went round. Never did beverage excite greater glee, or meet with more raptu- rous commendation. The parties were fast ad- vancing to that happy state which would have insured ample cause for the next day's repent- ance, and the bees were already beginning to buzz about their ears, when a messenger came spurring to the camp with intelligence that Wyeth's people had got entangled in one of those deep and frightful ravines, piled with im- mense fragments of volcanic rock, which gash the whole country about the head-waters of the I #' i 1 158 JSonncville'd BDvetiturca ( Blackfoot River. The revel was instantly at an end ; the keg of sweet and potent home- brewed was deserted ; and the guests departed with all speed, to aid in extricating their com- panions from the volcanic ravine. ii'i [^: ;'!, dbapter ftVf, A Rapid March — A Cloud of Dust — Wild Horsemen — "High Jinks" — Horse-Racing and Rifle-Shooting —The Game of " Hand "—The Fishing Season- Mode of Fishing — Table Lands — Salmon Fishers — The Captain's Visit to an Indian Lodge— The In- dian Girl— The Pocket Mirror — Supper— Troubles of an Evil Conscience. U P and away ! " is the first thought at daylight of the Indian trader, w^en a rival is at hand and distance is to be gained. Early in the morning, Captain Bonneville ordered the half-dried meat to be packed upon the horses, and leaving Wyeth and his party to hunt the scattered buffalo, pushed off rapidly to the east, to regain th* plain of the Portneuf. His march was rugged and dangerous ; through volcanic hills, broken into cliffs and precipices, and seamed with tremendous chasms, where the rocks rose like walls. On the second day, however, he encamped - 159 ^i^^i; fT i6o J9onneviUc'0 BDventured m : ■:'.i once more in the p»lain, and as it was still early, some of the men strolled out to the neighbor- ing hills. In casting their eyes round the country, they perceived a g^at cloud of dust rising in the south, and evidently approach- ing. Hastening back to the camp, they gave the alarm. Preparations were hastily made to receive an enemy ; while some of the men, throwing themselves upon the ** running horses " kept for hunting, galloped off to re- connoitre. In a little while they made signals from a distance that all was friendly. By this time, the cloud of dust had swept on as if hurried along by a blast, and a band of wild horsemen came dashing at full leap into the camp, yelling and whooping like so many maniacs. Their dresses, their accoutrements, their mode of riding, and their uncouth clamor, made them seem a party of savages arrayed for war; but they proved to be principally half-breeds, and white men grown savage in the wilderness, who were employed as trappers and hunters in the service of the Hudson's Bay Company. Here was again ** high jinks " in the camp. Captain Bonneville's men hailed these wild scamperers as congenial spirits, or, rather, as the very game birds of their class. They en- tertained them with the hospitality of moun- OameoCDanD" i6l taineers, feasting them at every fire. At first, there were mutual details of adventures and exploits, and broad joking mingled with peals of laughter. Then came on boasting of the comparative merits of horses and rifles, which soon engrossed every tongue. This naturally led to racing and shooting at a mark ; one trial of speed and skill succeeded another, shouts and acclamations rose from the victorious par- ties, fierce altercations succeeded, and a general m^l6e was about to take place, when suddenly the attention of the quarrellers was arrested by a strange kind of Indian chant or chorus, that seemed to operate upon them as a charm. Their fury was at an end ; a tacit reconciliation succeeded, and the ideas of the whole mongrel crowd — whites, half-breeds, and squaws — were turned in a new direction. They all formed into groups, and taking their places at the several fires, prepared for one of the most ex- citing amusements of the Nez Percys, and the other tribes of the Far West. The choral chant, in fact, which had thus acted as a charm, was a kind of wild accom- paniment to the favorite Indian game of' "Hand." This is played by two parties drawn out in opposite platoons before a blaz- ing fire. It is in some respects like the old game of passing the ring or the button, and VOL. II.— II i6a JBoimevtUc'd BDvcttturca :f : n ! ■! ! I. i: ! I.: I detecting the hand which holds it. In t!ic present game, the object hidden, or the cac/te as it is called by the trappers, is a small splint of wood, or other diminutive article, that may be concealed in the closed hand. This is passed backwards and forwards among the party "in hand," while the party "out of hand" guess where it is concealed. To heighten the excitement and confuse the giiessers, a number of dry poles are laid before each platoon, upon which the members of the party "in hand" beat furiously with short staves, keeping time to the choral chant al- ready mentioned, which waxes fast and furious as the game proceeds. As large bets are staked upon the game, the excitement is pro- digious. Each party in turn bursts out in full chorus, beating, and yelling, and working themselves up into such a heat, that the per- spiration rolls down their naked shoulders, even in the cold of a winter night. The bets are doubled and trebled as the game advances, the mental excitement increases almost to madness, and all the wordly effects of the gamblers are often hazarded upon the position of a straw. These gambling games were kept up throughout the night ; every fire glared upon the group that looked like a crew of maniacs annual #l0b«f eadt 163 at their frantic orgies ; and the scene would have been 'kept up throughout the succeeding day. had not Captain Bonneville interposed his authoiity, and at the usual hour issued his marching orders. Proceeding down the course of Snake River, the hunters regularly returned to camp in the evening laden with wild geese, which were yet scarcely able to fly, and were easily caught in great numbers. It was now the season of the annual fish-feast, with which the Indians in these parts celebrate the first appearance of the salmon in this river. These fish are taken in great numbers at the numerous falls of about four feet pitch. The Indians flank the shallow water just below, and spear them as they at- tempt to pass. In wide parts of the river, also, they place a sort of chevaux-de-frise^ or fence, of poles interwoven with withes and forming an angle in the middle of the current, where a small opening is left for the salmon to pass. Arouud this opening the Indiari station themselves on small rafts, and ply their spears with great success. The table lands so common in this region have a sandy soil, inconsiderable in depth, and covered with sage, or more properly speaking wormwood. Below this is a level stratum of rock, riven occasionally by frightful chasms. n. 164 Xonncvi\lc*e B&i?enturc0 S 'if; : The whole plain rises as it approaches the river, and terminates with high and broken cliffs, difficult to pass, and in many places so precipitous that it is impossible, for days to- gether, to get down to the water's edge to give drink to the horses. This obliges the traveller occasionally to abandon the vicinity of the river, and make a wide sweep into the interior. It was now far in the month of July, and the party suffered extremely from sultry weather and dusty travelling. The flies and gnats, too, were extremely troublesome to the horses ; especially when keeping along the edge of the river where it runs between low sand-banks. Whenever the travellers en- camped in the afternoon the horses retired to the gravelly shores and remained there, without attempting to feed, until the cool of the evening. As to the travellers, they plunged into the clear and cool current, to wash away the dust of the road, and refresh themselves after the heat of the day. The nights were always cool and pleasant. At one place where they encamped for some time, the river was nearly five hundred yards wide, and studded with grassy islands, adorned with groves of willow and cotton-wood. Here the Indians were assembled in great numbers, and had barricaded the channels between the Vi0it to f itMan %o^ge 165 islands, to enable them to spear the salmon with greater facility. They were a timid race, and seemed unaccustomed to the sight of white men. Entering one of the huts, Captain Bon- neville found the inhabitants just proceeding to cook a fine salmon. It is put into a pot filled with cold water, and hung over the fire. The moment the water begins to boil, the* fish is considered cooked. Taking his seat unceremoniously, and light- ing his pipe, the captain awaited the cooking of the fish, intending to invite himself to the repast. The owner of the hut seemed to take his intrusion in good part. While conversing with him, the captain felt something move behind him, and turning round and removing a few skins and old buffalo robes, discovered a young girl, about fourteen years of age, crouched beneath, who directed her large black eyes full in his face, and continued to gaze in mute surprise and terror. The captain endeav- ored to dispel her fears, and drawing a bright ribbon from his pocket, attempted repeatedly to tie it round her neck. She jerked back at each attempt, uttering a sound very much like a snarl ; nor could all the blandishments of the captain, albeit a pleasant, good-looking, and somewhat gallant man, succeed in conquer- ing the shyness of the savage little beauty. ■ij, i i66 JSoimeville'd B^venturc0 II' ■■ in' !-: ■ I' i i" ill ■ I His attentions were now turned to the parents, whom he presented with an awl and a little tobacco, and having thus secured their good will, continued to smoke his pipe and watch the salmon. While thus seated near the thres- hold, an urchin of the family approached the door, but catching a sight of the strange guest, ran,ofif screaming with terror, and ensconced himself behind the long straw at the back of the hut. Desirous to dispel entirely this timidity, and to open a trade with the simple inhabitants of the hut, who, he did not doubt, had furs some- where concealed, the captain now drew forth that grand lure in the eyes of the savage, a pocket mirror. The sight of it was irresistible. After examining it for a long time with won- der and admiration, they produced a muskrat skin and offered it in exchange. The captain shook his head ; but purchased the skin for a couple of buttons — superfluous trinkets ! as the worthy lord of the hovel had neither coat nor breeches on which to place them. The mirror still continued the great object of desire, particularly in the eyes of the old housewife, who produced a pot of parched flour and a string of biscuit roots. These pro- cured her some trifle in return ; but cculd not command the purchase of the mirror. The JSar^alnitid for Sftftis 167 salmon being now completely cooked, they all joined heartily in supper. A bounteous por- tion was deposited before the captain by the old woman, upon some fresh grass, which served instead of a platter ; and never had he tasted a salmon boiled so completely to his fancy. Supper being over, the captain lighted his pipe and passed it to his host, who, inhaling the smoke, puffed it through his nostrils so assiduously, that in u little while his head manifested signs of confusion and dizziness. Being satisfied, by this time, of the kindly and companionable qualities of the captain, he be- came easy and communicative ; and at length hinted something about exchanging beaver skins for horses. The captain at once offered to dispose of his steed, which stood fastened at the door. The bargain was soon concluded, whereupon the Indian, removing a pile of bushes under which his valuables were con- cealed, drew forth the number of skins agreed upon as the price. Shortly afterwards, some of the captain's people coming up, he ordered another horse to be saddled, and mounting it took his departure from the hut, after distributing a few trifling presents among its simple inhabitants. Dur- ing all the time of his visit, tha little Indian t68 3l3oiincv>llle'0 Bdventurcd I W m ■■ ■ {!■ I, i; i(t- ' F ; I : - I girl had kept her large black eyes fixed upon him, almost without winking, watching every movement with awe and wonder ; and as he rode off, remained grazing af^er him, motion- less as a statue. Her father, however, de- lighted with his new acquaintance, mounted his newly purchased horse, and followed in the train of the captain, to whom he continued to be a faithful and useful adherent during his sojourn in the neighborhood. The cowardly efforts of an evil conscience were evidenced in the conduct of one of the captain's men, who had been in the Califomian expedition. During all their intercourse with the harmless people of this place, he had mani- fested uneasiness and anxiety. While his com- panions mingled freely and joyously "with the natives, he went about with a restless, suspi- cious look, scrutinizing every painted form and face, and starting often at the sudden approach of some meek and inoffensive savage, who regarded him with reverence as a superior being. Yet this was ordinarily a bold fellow, who never flinched from danger, nor turned pale at the prospect of a battle. At length he requested permission of Captain Bonneville to keep out of the way of these people entirely. Their striking resemblance, he said, to the people of Ogden's River, made him continually ^Troubled of an TEvii Conscience 169 fear that some among them might have seen him in that expedition, and might seek an opportunity of revenge. Ever after this, while they remained in this neighborhood, he would skulk out of the way and keep aloof when any of the native inhabitants approached. "Such," o' serves Captain Bonneville, ** is the effect of self-reproach, even upon the roving trapper in the wilderness, who has little else to fear than the stings of his own guilty conscience." .!,' • i. |. 'j: I Cbapter f V. Outfit of a Trapper— Risks to wfcich he is Subjected — — Partnership of Trappers — Enmity of Indians- Distant Smoke — A CotiDtry on I'ire — Gun Creek — Grand Rond — Fine raatiiics — Perplexities in a Smoky Country— Conflagration of Forests, IT had been the intention of Captain Bonne- ville, in descending along Snake River, to scatter his trappers upon the smaller streams. In this way, a range of country is trapped by small detachments from a main body. The outfit of a trapper is generally a rifle, a pound of powder, and four pounds of lead, with a bullet mould, seven traps, an axe, a hatchet, a knife and awl, a camp kettle, two blankets, and, where supplies are plenty, seven pounds of flour. He has, generally, two or three horses, to carry himself and his baggage and peltries. Two trappers commonly go to- gether, for the purpose of mutual assistance and support -a larger party cculd not easily 170 partncr0bip of (Trappcra *7» jected— idians— Creek— s in a Bonne- iver, to >maller ntry is main rally a nds of n axe, le, two seven two or iggage go to- stance easily escape the eyes of the Indians. It is a service of peril ; and even more so at present than forruerly, since they have got into the habit of tivifficking peltries with the traders, have ^earnt the value of the beaver, and look upon the trappers as poachers, who are filching the riches from their streams and interfering with their market. They make no hesitation, there- fore, to murder the solitary trapper, and thus destroy a competitor, while they possess them- selves of his spoils. It is with regret we add, too, that this hostility has in many cases been instigated by traders, desirous of injuring their rivals, but who have themselves often reaped the fruits of the mischief they have sown. When two trappers undertake any consider- able stream, their mode of proceeding is to hide their horses in some lonely glen v/here they can graze unobserved. They then build a small hut, dig out a canoe from a cotton-wood tree, and in this poke along shore silently in the evening, and set their traps. These they revisit in the same silent way at daybreak. When they take any beaver, they bring it home, skin it, stretch the skin on sticks to dry, and feast upon the flesh. The body, hung up before the fire, turns by its own weight, and is roasted in a superior style. The tail is the trapper's titbit; it is cut off, put on the it. I 172 JSonncvilIc'5 BDvcnturcd I). . 1 ii 1 t ■ 1' ■ I ■ ■ i- ' . it J ' ' : !t , : : ,1 ['ij; \ i ; • if IV: lli : ( ! : ■' i j '1: 1' ■ • \ ■ ;■ r 1., . ■ i ^.-. ^ 1 i '.1' . .;' ': *;! '1- ■ ll i II... end of a stick, and toasted, and is considered even a greater dainty than the tongue or the marrow-bone of a buffalo. With all their silence and caution, however, the poor trappers cannot always escape their hawk-eyed enemies. Their trail has been dis- covered, perhaps, and followed up for many a mile ; or their smoke has been seen curling up out of the secret glen, or has been scented by the savages, whose sense of smell is almost as acute as that of sight. Sometimes they are pounced upon when in the act of setting their traps ; at other times, they are roused from their sleep by the horrid war-whoop ; or, per- haps, have a bullet or an arrow whistling about their ears, in the midst of one of their beaver banquets. In this way they are picked off, from time to time, and nothing is known of them, until, perchance, their bones are found bleaching in some lonely ravine, or on the banks of some nameless stream, which from that time is called after them. Many of the small streams beyond the mountains thus per- petuate the names of unfortunate trappers that have been murdered on their banks. A knowledge of these dangers deterred Cap- tain Bonneville, in the present instance, from detaching small parties of trappers as he had intended ; for his scouts brought- him word B Country on fire 173 that formidable bands of the Banneck Indians were lying on the Bois^e and Payette rivers, at no great distance, so that they would be apt to detect and cut off any stragglers. It be- hooved him, also, to keep his party together, to guard against any predatory attack upon the main body. He continued on his way, therefore, without dividing his forces. And fortunate it was that he did so ; for in a little while, he encountered one ^f those phenomena of the western wilds that would effectually have prevented his scattered people from find- ing each other again. In a word, it was the season of setting fire to the prairies. As he advanced, he began to perceive great clouds of smoke at a distance, rising by degrees, and spreading over the whole face of the country. The atmosphere became dry and surcharged with murky vapor, parching to the skin, and irritating to the eyes. When travelling among the hills, they could scarcely discern objects at the distance of a few paces ; indeed, the least exertion of the vision was painful. There was evidently some vast conflagration in the direc- tion tow ards which they were proceeding ; it was as yet at a great distance, and during the day they cotdd only see the smoke rising in larger and denser volumes, and rolling forth in an immense canopy. At night, the skies were 174 JSonncviUc'a BDvcnturcs m I.'. all glowing with the reflection of unseen fires; hanging in an immense body of lurid light, high above the horizon. Having reached Gun Creek, an impoitant stream coming from the left, Captain Bonne- ville turned up its course, to traverse the mountains and avoid the great bend of the Snake River. Being now out of the range of the Bannecks, he sent out his people in all directions to hunt the antelope for present supplies ; keeping the dried meats for places where game might be scarce. During four days that the party were ascend- ing Gun Creek, the smoke continued to increase so rapidly it was impossible to distinguish the face of the country and ascertain landmarks. Fortunately the travellers fell upon an Indian trail, which led them to the head- waters of the Fourche de Glace, or Ice River, sometimes called the Grand Rond. Here they found all the plains and valleys wrapped in one vast conflagration ; which swept over the long grass ia billows of flame, shot up every bush and tree, rose in great columns from the groves, and sent up clouds of smoke that darkened the atmosphere. To avoid this sea of fire, the travellers had to pursue their course close along the foot of the mountains ; but the irritation from the smoke continued to be tormenting. Salmon pUntirul 175 n fires; L light, poitant Bonne- rse the of the ange of ie in all present r places ascend- increase uish the imarks. Indian iters of tnetimes 3und all ne vast ig grass ish and groves, arkened fire, the se along litatiou iting. The country about the head-waters of the Grand Rond spreads out into broad and le\cl prairies, extremely fertile, and watered by mountain springs and rivulets. These prairies are resorted to by small bands of the Skynses, to pasture their horses as well as to banquet upon the salmon which abound in the neigh- boring waters. They taki these fish in great quantities and without the least difficulty ; simply taking them out of the water with their hands, as they flounder and struggle in tlie numerous long shoals of the principal streams. At the time the travellers passed over these prairies, some of the narrow deep streams by which they were intersected were completely choked with salmon, which they took in great numbers. The wolves and bears frequent these streams at this season, to avail themselves of these great fisheries. The travellers continued, for many days, to experience great difficulties and discomforts from this wide conflagration, which seemed to embrace the whole wilderness. The sun was for a great part of the time obscured by the smoke, and the loftiest mountains where hidden from view. Blundering along in this region of mist and uncertainty, they were fre- quently obliged to make long circuits, to avoid obstacles which they could not perceive until 176 JSotmevtUc'0 Bdvcnturc0 ; f lit I Ik 'i; ill ¥ ;' (■ m close upon them. The Indian trails were their safest guides, for though they sometimes appeared to lead them out of their direct course, they always conducted them to the passes. On the 26th of August they reached the head of the Way-lee-way River. Here, in a valley of the mountains through which this head- water makes its way, they found a band of the Skynses, who were extremely sociable, and appeared to be well disposed, and as they spoke the Nez Percd lauguage, an intercourse was easily kept up with them. In the pastures on the bank of this stream. Captain Bonneville encamped for a time, for the purpose of recruiting the strength of his horses. Scouts were now sent out to explore the surrounding country, and search for a convenient pass through the mountains to- wards the Wallamut or Multnomah. After an absence of twenty days, they returned weary and discouraged. They had been harassed and perplexed in rugged mountain defiles, where their progress was continually impeded by rocks and precipices. Often they had been obliged to travel along the edges of frightful ravines, where a false step would have been fatal. In one of these passes a horse fell from the brink of a precipice, and a ®rcat Coiifla0ration 177 would have been dashed to pieces had he not lodged among the branches of a tree, from which he was extricated with great difficulty. These, however, were not the worst of their difficulties and perils. The great conflagration of the country, which had hara.ssed the main party in its march, was still more awful the further this exploring party proceeded. The flames, which swept rapidly over the light vegetation of the prairies, assumed a fiercer character and took a stronger hold amidst the wooded glens and ravines of the mountains. Some of the deep gorges and defiles sent up sheets of flame and clouds of lurid smoke, and sparks and cinders, that in the night made them resemble the craters of volcanoes. The groves and forests, too, which crowned the cliffs, shot up their towering columns of fire, and added to the furnace glow of the mountains. With these stupendous sights were combined the rushing blasts caused by the rarefied air, which roared and howled through the narrow glens, and whirled forth the smoke and flames in impetuous wreaths. Ever and anon, too, was heard the crash of falling trees, sometimes tumbling from crags and precipices, with tre- mendous sounds. In the daytime, the mountains were wrapped in smoke, so dense and blinding that the ex- VOL II.- 12 178 Xonncv\l{c*B 'B^vcnintee it' i '•'■ plorers, if by chance they separated, could only find each other by shouting. Often, too, they had to grope their way through the yet burning forests, in constant peril from the limbs and trunks of trees, which frequently fell across their path. At length they gave up the attempt to find a pass as hopeless, under actual circumstances, and made their way back to the camp to report their failure. Cbapter flDl. The Skynses— Their Traffic — Hunting — Pood— Horses — A Horse-Race — Devotional Feelings of the Skyn- ses, Nez Percys, and Flatheads — Prayers — Exhorta- tions — A Preacher on Horseback — Effect of Religion on the Manners of the Tribes — A New Light. DURING the absence of this detachment, a sociable intercourse had been kept up between the main party and the Skyn- ses, who had removed into the neighborhood of the camp. These people dwell about the waters of the Way-lee-way and the adjacent country and trade regularly with the Hudson's Bay Company ; generally giving horses in ex- change for the articles of which they stand in need. They bring beaver skins, also, to the trading posts ; not procured by trapping, but by a course of internal traffic with the shy and ignorant Shoshokoes and Too-el-icans, who keep in distant and unfrequented parts of the country, and will not venture near the trading 179 u. \ i i .: •• '" . [ I 1 1 ; 1 1 '. i j- I' r i8o .13onnevtllc'0 BDrcnttirci} houses. The Skynses hunt the deer and elk occasionally ; and depend, for a part of the year, on fishing. Their main subsistence, however, is upon roots, especially the camash. This bulbous root is said to be of a delicious flavor, and highly nutricious. The women dig it up in great quantities, steam it, and deposit it in caches for winter provisions. It grows spon- taneously, and absolutely covers the plains. This tribe were comfortably clad and equipped. They had a few rifles among them, and were extremely desirous of bartering for those of Captain Bonneville's men, offering a couple of good running horses for a light rifle. Their first-rate horses, however, were not to be procu ed from them on any terms. They almost invariably use ponies ; but of a breed infinitely superior to any in the United States. They are fond of trying their speed and bottom, and of betting upon them. As Captain Bonneville was desirous of judg- ing of the comparative merit of their horses, he purchased one of their racers, and had a trial of speed between that, an American, and a Shoshonie, which were supposed to be well matched. The race-course was for the distance of one mile and a half out and back. For the first half-mile, the American took the lead, by a few hands ; but, losing his wind, soon fell 'Relldioud Sci^iccB i8i far behind, leaving the Shoshonie and Skynse to contend together. For a mile and a half, they went head and head ; but at the turn the Skynse took the lead, and won the race with great ease, scarce drawing a quick breath when all was over. The Sky uses, like the Nez Percys and the Flatheads, have a strong devotional feeling, which has been successfully cultivated by some of the resident personages of the Hudson's Bay Company. Sunday is invariably kept sacred among these tribes. They will not raise their camp on that day, unless in extreme cases of danger or hunger ; neither will they hunt, nor fish, nor trade, nor perform any kind of labor on that day. A part of it is passed in prayer and religious ceremonies. Some chief, who is generally, at the same time, what is called a "medicine man," assembles the com- munity. After invoking blessings from Lhe Deity, he addresses the assemblage, exhorting them to good conduct ; to be diligent in provid- ing for their families, to abstain from lying and stealing, to avoid quarrelling or cheating in their play, and to be just and hospitable to all strangers who may be among them . Prayers and exhortations are also made, early in the morning on week days. Sometimes, all this is done by the chief, from horseback ; l82 JSonneviile's BOventures •I moving slowly obout the camp, with his hat on, and uttering his exh jrtations with a loud voice. On all occasions, the bystanders listen with profound attention ; and at the end of every sentence respond one word in unison — apparently equivalent to an amen. While these prayers and exhortations are going on, every edoloyment in the camp is suspended. If an Indian is riding by the place, he dis- mountSj holds his horse, and attends with reverence until all is done. When the chief has finished his prayer or exhortation, he says, ' * I have done, ' ' upon which there is a general exclamation in unison. With these religious services, probably de- rived from the white men, the tribes above- mentioned mingle some of their old Indian ceremonials ; such as dancing to the cadence of a song or ballad, which is generally done in a large lodge provided for the purpose. Besides Sundays, they likewise observe the cardinal holidays of the Roman Catholic Church. Whoever has introduced these simple forms of religion among these j[X)or savages, has evidently understood their characters and cai>acities, and effected a great melioration of their manners. Of this we speak not merely from the testimony of Captain Bonneville, but, likewise, from that of Mr. Wyeth, who passed Ettcctd Of 'Religion 183 is hat 1 loud ; listen :nd of ison — While ng on, ended, le dis- s with ; chief e says, general Dly de- above- Indian adence lone in Besides ardinal • ; forms iS, has rs and tion of merely le, but, passed some months in a travelling camp of the Flat- heads. " During the time I have been with them," sa> J he, ** I have never known an in- stance of theft among them ; the least thing, even to a bead or pin, is brought to you, if found, and often things that have been thrown away. Neither have I known any quarrelling, nor lying. This absence of all quarrelling the more surprised me, when I came to see the various occasions that would have given rise to it among the whites : the crowding together of from twelve to eighteen hundred horses, which have to be driven into camp at night, to be picketed ; to be packed in the morning ; the gathering of fuel in places where it is extremely scanty. All this, how- ever, is done without confusion or disturb- ance. ** They have a mild, playful, laughing dis- position ; and this is portrayed in their coun- tenances. They are polite, and unobtrusive. When one speaks, the rest pay strict attention ; when he is done, another assents by 'yes,' or dissents by 'no,' and then states his reasons, which are listened to with equal attention. Even the children are more peaceable than other children. I never heard an angry word among" them, nor any quarrelling, although there were, at least, five hundred of them to- 1 84 JSonnevflle'a BDt»enture0 iii i-l I i ' ■' ; <' n gether, and continually at play. With all this quietness of spirit, they are brave when put to the test ; and are an overmatch for an equal number of Blackfeet." The foregoing observations, though gathered from Mr. Wyeth as relative to the Flatheads, apply, hi the main, to the Skynses also. Cap- tain Bonneville, during his sojourn with the latter, t jk constant occasion, in conversing will 'beir principal men, to encourage them in the t. ultivation of moral and religious habits ; drawii'g a comparison between their peaceable and comfortable course of life, and that of other tribes, and attributing it to their superior sense of morality and religion. He frequently at- tended their religious services, with his people ; always enjoining on the latter the most reveren- tial deportment : and he observed that th^ poor Indians were always pleased to have the ^hite men present. The disposition of these tribes is evidently favorable to a considerable degree of civiliza- tion. A few farmers, stitled among them, might lead them, Captain Bonneville thinks, to till the earth and cultivate grain — the coun- try of the Skynses and Nez Percys is admira- bly adapted for the raising of cattle. A Christian missionarj^ or two, and some trifling assistance from government, to protect them 5un^al? Occupations 185 ill this put to equal thered heads, Cap- ith the rersing hem in labits ; iceable f other r sense itly at- )eople; sveren- i^poor i "^hite idently iviliza- them, thinks, 2 coun- idmira- le. A trifling them from the predatory and warlike tribes, might lay the foundation of a Christian people in the midst of the great western wilderness, who would " wear the Americans near their hearts. ' ' We must not omit to observe, however, in qualification of the sanctity of this Sabbath in the wilderness, that these tribes, who are ar- dently addicted to gambling and horse-racing, make Sunday a peculiar day for recreations of the kind, not deeming them in any wise out of season. Afler prayers and pious ceremonials are over, there is scarce an hour in the day, says Captain Bonneville, that you do not see several horses racing at full speed ; and in every comer of the camp, are groups of gam- blers, ready to stake everything upon the all- absorb* ig game of "hand." The Indians, says Wyeth, appear to enjoy their amuse lents with more zest than the whites. They are great gamblers ; and, in proportion to their means, play bolder, and bet higher than white men. The cultivation of the religious feeling, above noted among the savages, has been, at times a convenient policy with some of the more know- ing traders, who have derived great credi" and influence among them, by being considered "medicine meu,'* that is, men gifted with mysterious knowledge. This feeling is, also, i86 Xonnevillc*B Bdvc^turcd li ,■ '■ at times, played upon by religious charlatans ; who are to be found in savage as well as civil- ized life. One of these was noted by Wyeth, during his sojourn among the Flatheads. A new great man, says he, is rising in the camp, who aims at power and sway. He covers his designs under the ample cloak of religion — in- culcating some new doctrines and ceremonials among those who are more simple than him- self. He has already made proselytes of one fifth of the camp ; beginning by working on the women, the children, and the weak>minded. His followers are all dancing on the plain, to their own vocal music. The more knowing ones of the tribe look on and laugh, thinking it all too foolish to do harm ; but they will soon find that women, children, and fools form a large majority of every community, and they will have eventually to follow the new light, or be considered among the profane. As soon ^s a preacher, or pseudo prophet of the kind gets followers enough, he either takes com- mand of the tribe, or branches ofi" and sets up for an independent chief and ' ' medicine man. ' * m ■ I QS^^;r^ Cbapter ftWf^ Scarcity in the Camp — Refusal of Supplies by the Hudson's Bay Company — Conduct of the Indians — A Hungry Retreat— John Day's River— The Blue Mountains — Salmon Fishing on Snake River — Mes- sengers from the Crow Country — Bear River Valley — Immense Migration of Buffalo— Danger of Buf- falo Hunting — A Wounded Indian — Eutaw Indians — A " Surround" of Antelopes, PROVISIONS were now growing scanty in the camp, and Captain B^^nneville found it necessary to seek a new neighborhood. Taking leave, therefore, of his friends, the Skynses, he set oflF to the westward, and, crossing a low range of mountains, encamped on the head- waters of the Ottolais. Being now within thirty miles of Fort Wallah-Wal- lah, the trading post of the Hudson's Bay Company, he sent a small detachment of men thither, to purchase corn for the subsistence of his party. The men were well received at the fort, but all supplies for their camp were 187 li'i^ 1 88 JSouncrilie'd BDvcnturcd !(:;:: \y I »! promptly refused. Tempting offers were made tliem, however, if they would leave their pres- ent employ, and enter into the service of the company ; but they were not to be seduced. When Captain Bonneville saw his messengers return empty-handed, he ordered an instant move, for there was imminent danger of famine. He pushed forward down the course of the Ottolais which runs diagonal to the Columbia, and falls into it about fifty miles below the Wallah-Wallah. His route lay through a beautiful undulating country, covered with horses belonging to the Skynses, who sent them there for pasturage. On reaching the C /snmbia. Captain Bonne- ville hoped to open r, trade with the natives, for fish and other provisions, but to his sur- prise, they kept aloof, and even hid themselves on his approach. He soon discovered that they were under the influence of the Hudson's Bay Company, who had forbidden them to trade, or hold any communion with him. He pro- ceeded along the Columbia, but it was every- where the same ; not an article of provisions was to be obtained from the natives, and he was, at length, obliged to kill a couple of his horses to sustain his famishing people. He now came to a halt, and consulted what was to be done. The broad and beautiful Columbia fi 1>un0rc l^ctrcnt 189 e made ir pres- of the ced. iengers instant famine, of the umbia, DW the )ugh a d with 10 sent Bonne- latives, a'is sur- nselves at they I's Bay trade, le pro- every- ivisions and he of his e. He lat was lumbia lay before them, smooth and unruffled as a mirror ; a little more journeying would take them to its lower region ; to the noble val- ley of the Wallamut, their projected winter quarters. To advance under present c'n m- stances would be to court starvati' resources of the country were locked them, by the influence of a jealous and \ *\ver- ful monopoly. If they reached the Wallamut, they could scarcely hope to obtain sufficient supplies for the winter ; if they lingered any longer in the country, the snows would gather upon the mountains and cut oil their retreat. By hastening their return, they would be able to reach the Blue Mountains just in time to find the elk, the deer, and the bighoni ; and after they had supplied themselves with pro- visions, they might push through the moun- tains, before they were entirely blocked up by snow. Influenced by these considerations, Captain Bonneville reluctantly turned his back a second time on the Columbia, and set off" for the Blue Mountains. He took his course up John Day's River, so called from one of the hunters in the original Astorian enterprise. As famine was at his heels, he travelled fast, and reached the mountains by the ist of Oc- tober. He entered by the opening made by John Day's River ; it was a rugged and diffi- "hi "?W| IMAGE EVALUATION TEST TARGET (MT-3) 1.0 ^^ISi v lii 12.2 I.I us lis 140 2.0 m |l.25|iJU||,^ • < 6" ► ^ c; y] c%. PhotDgrapftic Sdoices Corporalion 23 WEST MAIN STREET WEBSTER, N.Y. MSSO (716)«72-4S03 .>^ \ .^\^ ^ #.^%. >^^ ^ m I' , i 1;: pi (\1 ■0 If 190 aBonncville'd Bdvcntures cult defile, but he and his men had become accustomed to hard scrambles of the kind. Fortunately, the September rains had extin- guished the fires which recently spread over these regions ; and the mountains, no longer wrapped in smoke, now revealed all their grandeur and sublimity to the eye. They were disappointed in their expectation of finding abundant game in the mountains ; large bands of the natives had passed through, returning from their fishing expeditions, and had driven all the game before them. It was only now and then that the hunters could bring in sufficient to keep the party from starvation. To add to their distress, they mistook their route, and wandered for ten days among high and bald hills of clay. At length, after much perplexity, they made their way to the banks of Snake River, following the course of which, they were sure to reach their place of destina- tion. It was the 20th of October when they founu themselves once more upon this noted stream. The Shoshokoes, whom they had met with in such scanty numbers on their journey down the river, now absolutely thronged its banks to profit by the abundance of salmon, and lay up a stock for wintei provisions. Scaffolds food in Bbundance 191 were everywhere erected, and immense quan- tities of fish drying upon them. At this season of the year, however, the salmon are extremely poor, and the travellers needed their keen sauce of hunger to give them a relish. In some places the shores were completely covered with a stratum of dead salmon, ex- hausted in ascending the river, or destroyed at the falls ; the fetid odor of which tainted the air. It was not until the travellers reached the head-waters of the Portneuf, that they really found themselves in a region of abundance. Here the buffalo were in immense herds ; and here they remained for three days, slaying, and cooking, and feasting, and indemnifying them- selves by an enormous carnival, for a long and hungry lycnt. Their horses, too, found good pasturage, and enjoyed a little rest after a severe spell of hard travelling. During this period, two horsemen arrived at the camp, who proved to be messengers sent express for supplies from Montero's party ; which had been sent to beat up the Crow •country and the Black Hills, and to winter on the Arkansas. They reported that all was well with the party, but that they had not been able to accomplish the whole of their mission, and were still in the Crow country, [(ft: i in. If 1 4 ■m 192 J9oniieville'0 BM^ciitured i:^' mh m mi''::. ■& where they should remain until joined by Captain Bonneville in the spring. The cap- tain retained the messengers with him until the 17th of November, when, having reached the caches on Bear River, and procured thence the required supplies, he sent them back to their party ; appointing a rendezvous towards the last of June following, on the forks of Wind River Valley, in the Crow country. He now remained several days encamped near the caches , and having discovered a small band of Shoshonies in his neighborhood, pur- chased from them lodges, furs, and other articles of winter comfort, and arranged with them to encamp together during the winter. The place designed by the captain for the wintering ground was on the upper part of Bear River, some distance off. He delayed approaching it as long as possible, in order t- avoid driving oflf the buffalo, which would be needed for winter provisions. He accordingly moved forward but slowly, merely as the want of game and grass obliged him to shift his position. The weather had already become extremely cold, and the snow lay to a consider- able depth. To enable the horses to carry as much dried meat as possible, he caused a cache to be made, in which all the baggage that could be spared was deposited. This Ai^ratton ot JSuffaloed 193 done, the party continued to move slowly to- wards their winter quarters. They were not doomed, however, to suffer from scarcity during the present winter. The people upon Snake River having chased off the buffalo before the snow had become deep, immense herds now came trooping over the mountains ; forming dark masses on their sides, from which their deep-mouthed bellow- ing sounded like the low peals and mutterings from a gathering thunder-cloud. In effect, the cloud broke, and down came the torrent thun- dering into the valley. It is utterly impossible, according to Captain Bonneville, to convey an idea of the effect produced by the sight of such countless throngs of animals of such bulk and spirit, all rushing forward as if swept on by a whirlwind. The long privation which the travellers had suffered gave uncommon ardor to their present hunting. One of the Indians attached to the party, finding himself on horseback in the midst of the buffaloes, without either rifle or bow and arrows, dashed after a fine cow that was passing close by him, and plunged l:ijj knife into her side with such lucky aim as to bring her to the ground. It was a daring deed, but hunger had made him almost desperate. VOL. II.---X3 " lit-- u^' ^' I li, . }' I 194 asottnevflle'd Bdvcnturcs ii! !' ; The buffaloes are sometimes tenadous of life, and must be wounded in particular parts. A ball striking the shagged frontlet of a bull, produces no other effect than a toss of the head, and greater exasperation ; on the contrary, a ball striking the forehead of a cow, is fatal. Several instances occurred during this g^eat hunting bout, of bulls fighting furiously after having received mortal wounds. Wyeth, also, was witness to an instance of the kind while encamped with the Indians. During a grand hunt of the buffalo, one of the Indians pressed a bull so closely that the animal turned sud- denly upon him. His horse stopped short, or started back, and threw him. Before he could rise, the bull rushed furiously upon him, and gored him in the chest, so that his breath came out at the aperture. He was conveyed back to the camp, and his wound was dressed. Giving himself up for slain, he called round him his friends, and made his will by word of mouth. It was something like a death chant, and at the end of every sentence those around responded in concord. He appeared no ways intimidated by the approach of death. '* I think," adds Wyeth, "that the Indians die better than the white men ; perhaps, from having less fear about the future." The buffalo may be approached very near, B perpetual Carttfi^al 195 if the hunter keeps to the leeward ; but they are quick of scent, and will take the alarm and move off from a party of hunters, to the wind- ward, even when two miles distant. The vast herds which had poured down into the Bear River Valley, were now snowbound, and remained in the neighborhood of the camp throughout the winter. This famished the trappers and their Indian friends a perpetual carnival ; so that to slay and eat seemed to be the main occupations of the day. It is aston- ishing what loads of meat it requires to cope with the appetite of a hunting camp. The ravens and wolves soon came in for their share of the good cheer. These constant at- tendants of the hunter gathered in vast num- bers as the winter advanced. They might be completely out of sight, but at the report of a gun flights of ravens would immediately be seen hovering in the air, no one knew whence they came; while the sharp visages of the wolves would peep down from the brow of every hill, waiting for the hunter's departure, to pounce upon the carcass. Besides the buffalo, there were other neigh- bors snowbound in the valley, whose presence did not promise to be so advantageous. This was a band of Eutaw Indians, who were en- camped higher up on the river. They are a 196 JSonnevlIle'd B^venturcd ';:\ m poor tribe, that in a scale of the various tribes inhabiting these regions, would rank between the Shoshonies and the Shoshokoes or Root Diggers ; though more bold and warlike than the latter. They have but few rifles among them, and are generally armed with bows and a.Tows. As this band and the Shoshonies were at deadly feud, on account of old grievances, and as neither party stood in awe of the other, it was feared some bloody scenes might ensue. Captain Bonneville, therefore, undertook the ofiice of pacificator, and sent to the Kutaw chiefs, inviting them to a friendly smoke, in order to bring about a reconciliation. His in- vitation was proudly declined ; whereupon he went to them in person, and succeeded in effecting a suspension of hostilities, until the chiefs of the two tribes could meet in council. The braves of the two rival camps sullenly ac- quiesced in the arrangement. They would take their seats upon the hill tops, and watch their quondam enemies hunting the buffalo in the plain below, and evidently repine, that their hands were tied up from a skirmish. The worthy captain, however, succeeded in carry- ing through his benevolent mediation. The chiefs met ; the amicable pipe was smoked; the hatchet buried, and peace formally pro- Surround of Bntelopcd 197 claimed. After this, both camps united and mingled in social intercourse. Private quarrels, however, would occasionally occur in hunting, about the division of the game, and blows would sometimes be exchanged over the carcass of a buffalo ; but the chiefs wisely took no notice of these individual brawls. One day, the scouts, who had been ranging the hills, brought news of several large herds of antelopes in a small valley at no great dis- tance. This produced a sensation among the Indians, for both tribes were in ragged con- dition, and sadly in want of those shirts made of the skin of the antelope. It was determined to have ** a surround,** as the mode of hunting that animal is called. Everything now as- sumed an air of mystic solemnity and import- ance. The chiefs prepared their medicines or charms, each according to his own method, or fancied inspiration, generally with the com- pound of certain simples ; others consulted the entrails of animals which they had sacrificed, and thence drew favorable auguries. After much grave smoking and deliberating, it was at length proclaimed, that all who were able to lift a club, man, woman, or child, should muster for **the surround." When all, had congregated, they moved in rude procession 1:9 the nearest point of the valley in question, .m I \ 198 J8onnevU(€'0 Bdventuree pi' r ? 1 s*. '^^ - and thei^ halted. Another course of smoking and deliberating, of which the Indians are so fond, took place among the chiefs. Directions were then issued for the horsemen to make a circuit of about seven miles, so as to encompass the herd. When this was done, the whole mounted force dashed off, simultaneously, at full speed, shouting and yelling at the top of their voices. In a short space of time the antelopes, started from their hiding places, came bounding from all points into the valley. The riders now gradually contracting their circle, brought them nearer and nearer to the spot where the senior chief, surrounded by the elders, male and female, was seated in super- vision of the chase. The antelopes, nearly exhausted with fatigue and fright, and be- wildered by perpetual whooping, made no effort to break through the ring of the hunters, but ran round in small circles, until man, woman, and child beat them down with bludg- eons. Such is the nature of that species of antelope hunting, technically called " a sur- round.'* I p- ) hfr; r Cbapter f\om. A Festive Winter — Conversion of the Shoshoniet— Visit of Two Free Trappers— Ggyety in the Camp— A Touch of the Tender Passion — The Reclaimed Squaw— An Indian Fine Lady — An Elopement — A Pursuit— Market Value of a Bad Wife. GAME continued to abound throughout the winter ; and the camp was over- stocked with provisions. Beef and venison, humps and haunches, buffalo tongues and marrow-bones, were constantly cooking at every fire ; and the whole atmosphere was redolent with the savory fumes of roast meat. It was, indeed, a continual ' * feast of fat things, ' ' and though there might be a lack of '*wine upon the lees,** yet we have shown that a substitute was occasionally to be found in honey and alcohol. Both the Shoshonies and the Eutaws con- ducted themselves with great propriety. It is true, they now and then filched a few trifles firom their good friends, the Big Hearts, when 199 li I' If ; L M JSoiincvillc'd a^t?enture0 llicir backs were turned ; but then, they always treated them to their faces, with the utmost deference and respect ; and good-humored ly vied with the trappers in all kinds of feats of activity and mirthful sports. The two tribes maintained towards each other, also, a friend- liness of aspect, which gave Captain Bonneville reason to hope that all past animosity was effectually buried. The two rival bands, however, had not long been mingled in this social manner, before their ancient jealousy began to break out, in a new form. The senior chief of the Shoshonies was a thinking man, and a man of observation. He had been among the Nez Percys, listened to their new code of morality and religion re- ceived from the white men, and attended their devotional exercises. He had observed the effect of all this, in elevating the tribe in the estimation of the white men ; and determined, by the same means, to gain for his own tribe a stiperiority over their ignorant rivals, the Eutaws. He accordingly assembled his people, promulgated them among the mongrel doc- trines and form of worship of the Nez* Percys ; recommending the same to their adoption. The Shoshonies were struck with the novelty, at least, of the measure, and entered into it with spirit. They began to observe Sundays J \ Cwo Dtditora 20I and holidays, and to have their devotional dances, and chants, and other ceremonials, about which the ignorant Eutaws knew noth- ing ; while they exerted their usual competition in shooting and horse-racing, and the renowned game of hand. Matters were going on thus pleasantly and prosperously, in this motley community of white and red men, when, one morning, two stark free trappers, arrayed in the height of savage finery, and mounted on steeds as fine and as fiery as themselves, and all jingling with hawk's bells, came galloping, with whoop and halloo, into the camp. They were fresh from the winter encampment of the American Fur Company, in the Green River Valley ; and had come to pay their old comrades of Captain Bonneville's company n visit. An idea may now be formed, from the scenes we have already given of conviviality in the wilderness, of the manner in which these game birds were received by those of their feather in the camp ; what feasting, what rev- eling, what boasting, what bragging, what ranting and roaring, racing and gambling, and squabbling and fighting, ensued among these boon companions. Captain Bonneville, it is true, maintained always a certain degree of law and order in his camp, and checked each 9oa XonncviHc'e BDventured ml ■ li;'' fierce excess ; but the trappers, in their seasons of idleness and relaxation, require a degree of license and indulgence, to repay them for the long privations, and almost incredible hard- ships of their periods of active service. In the midst of all this feasting and frolick- ing, a freak of tender passion intervened, and wrought a complete change in the scene. Among the Indian beauties in the camp of the Eutaws and Shoshonies, the free trappers dis- covered two, who had whilom figured as their squaws. These connections frequently take place for a season, and sometimes continue for years, if not perpetually ; but are apt to be broken when the free trapper starts off, sud- denly, on some distant and rough expedition. In the present instance, these wild blades were anxious to regain their belles ; nor were the latter loath once more to cone under their protection. The free trapper coniMnes, in the eye of an Indian girl, all that is dashing and heroic in a warrior of her own race, whose gait, and garb, and bravery he emulates, with all that is gallant and glorious in the white man. And then the indulgence with which he treats her, the finery in which he decks her out, the state in which she moves, the sway she enjoys over both his purse and person, instead of be- ing the drudge and slave of an Indian hus- Butaw :n3cauti? 903 band ; obliged to carry his pack, and build his lodge, and make his fire, and bear his cross humors and dry blows. — No ; there is no com- parison, in the eyes of an aspiring belle of the wilderness, between a free trapper and an Indian brave. With respect to one of the parties, the matter was easily arranged. The beauty in question was a pert little Eutaw wench, that had been taken prisoner, in some war excursion, by a Shoshonie. She was readily ransomed for a few articles of trifling value : and forthwith figured about the camp in fine array, "with rings on her fingers and bells on her toes," and a tossed-up coquettish air, that made her the envy, admiration, and abhorrence of all the leathern-dressed, hard-working squaws of her acquaintance. As to the other beauty, it was quite a differ- ent matter. She had become the wife of a Shoshonie brave. It is true,, he had another wife, of older date than the one in question : who, therefore, took command in his house- hold, and treated his new spouse as a slave ; but the latter was the wife of his last fancv, his latest caprice ; and was precious in his. eyes. All attempt to bargain with him, there- fore, was useless ; the very proposition was repulsed with anger and disdain. The spirit i 7 ■ii »! : i- 204 XonncvHic*B Bdvcntured of the trapper was roused, his pride was piqued as well as his passion. He endeavored to pre- vail upon his quondam mistress to elope with him. His horses were fleet, the winter nights were long and dark, before daylight they would be beyond the reach of pursuit ; and once at the encampment in Green River Valley, they might set the whole band of Shoshonies at defiance. The Indian girl listened and longed. Her heart yearned after the ease and splendor of condition of a trapper's bride, and throbbed to be freed from the capricious control of a pre- mier squaw ; but she dreaded the failure of the plan, and the fury of a Shoshonie husband. They parted ; the Indian girl in tears, and the madcap trapper more mad than ever, with his thwarted passion. Their interviews had, probably, been de- tected, and the jealousy of the Shoshonie brave aroused: a clamor of angry voices heard in his lodge, with the sound of blows, and of female weeping and lamenting. At night, as the trapper lay tossing on his pallet, a soft voice whispered at the door of his lodge. His mistress stood trembling before him. She was ready to follow whithersoever he should lead. In an instant, he was up and out. He had two prime horses, sure, and swift* of foot, and (Tbe Veclaii^; > Squaw 205 LS piqued d to pre- ope with it nights rht they uit ; and T Valley, loshonies ed. Her lender of robbed to of a pre- ure of the husband, p, and the with his t)een de- nie brave heard in and of night, as it, a soft Ige. His She was >uld lead. He had foot, and of great wind. With stealthy quiet, they were brought up and saddled ; and, in a few mo- ments, he and his prize were careering over the snow, with which the whole country was covered. In the eagerness of escape, they had made no provision for their journey ; days must elapse before they could reach tlieir haven of safety, and mountains and prairies be trav- ersed, wrapped in all the desolation of winter. For the present, however, they thought of nothing but flight; urging their horses for- ward over the dreary wastes, and fancying, in the howling of every blast, they heard the yell of the pursuer. At early dawn the Shoshonie became aware of his loss. Mounting his swiftest horse, he set off in hot pursuit. He soon found the trail of the fugitives, and spurred on in the hopes of overtaking them. The winds, however, which swept the valley, had drifted the light snow into the prints made by the horses' hoofs. In a little while he lost all trace of them, and was completely thrown out of the chase. He knew, however, the situation of the camp tow- ard which they were bound, and a direct course through the mountains, by which he might arrive there sooner than the fugitives. Through the most rugged defiles, therefore, he urged his course by day and night, scarce pausing until ^^k5«S^ 306 JSonnevillc'd BDvcnturcd '.' ! >vf - ns: i If ,; h :$? he reached the camp. It was some time before the fugitives made their appearance. Six days had they been traversing the wintry wilds. They came, haggard with hunger and fatigue, and their horses faltering under them. The first object that met their eyes, on entering the camp, was the Shoshonie brave. He rushed, knife in hand, to plunge it in the heart that had proved false to him. The trapper threw himself before the cowering form of his mis- tress, and, exhausted as he was, prepared for a deadly struggle. The Shoshonie paused. His habitual awe of the white man checked his arm ; the trapper's friends crowded to the spot and arrested him. A parley ensued. A kind of crtm. con. adjudication took place ; such as frequently occurs in civilized life. A couple of horses were declared to be a fair com- pensation for the loss of a woman who had previously lost her heart ; with this, the Sho- shonie brave was fain to pacify his passion. iio. returned to Captain Bonneville's camp, somewhat crest-fallen, it is true ; but parried the ofl&cious condolements of his friends, by observing, that two good horses were good pay for one bad wife. mt Cbapter f f f . Breaking up of Winter Quarters — Move to Green River — A Trapper and his Rifle — ^An Arrival in Camp — A Free Trapper and his Squaw in Distress — Story of a Blackfoot Belle. THE winter was now breaking up, the snows were melted from the hills, and from the lower parts of the mountains, and the time for decamping had arrived. Captain Bonneville despatched a party to the caches^ who brought away all the effects con- cealed there, and on the ist of April (1835), the camp was broken up, and every one on the move. The white men had their allies, the Eutaws and Shoshonies, parted with many regrets and sincere expressions of good-will, for their intercourse throughout the winter had been of the most friendly kind. Captain Bonneville and his party passed by Ham's Fork, and reached the Colorado, or Green River, without accident, on the banks 207 208 JSonnevilIc'0 BDi?enturc0 h . of which they remained during the residue of the spring. During this time, they were conscious that a band of hostile Indians were hovering about their vicinity, watching for an opportunity to slay or steal ; but the vigilant precautions of Captain Bonneville baffled all their manoeuvers. In such dangerous times, the experienced mountaineer is never without his rifle, even in camp. On going from lodge to lodge to visit his comrades, he takes it with him. On seating himself in a lodge, he lays it beside him, ready to be snatched up ; when he goes out, he takes it up as regularly as a citizen would his walking staff. His rifle is his constant friend and protector. On the loth of June, the party were a little to the east of the Wind River Mountains, where they halted for a time in excellent pas- turage, to give their horses a chance to recruit their strength for a long journey ; for it was Captain Bonneville's intention to shape his course to the settlements ; having already been detained by the complication of his duties, and by various losses and impediments, far beyond the time specified in his leave of absence. While the party was thus reposing in the neighborhood of the Wind River Moun- tains, a solitary free trapper rode one day into Bn firrfval fn Camp 209 the camp, and accosted Captain Bonneville. He belonged, he said, to a party of thirty hunters, who had just passed through the neighborhood, but -whom he had abandoned in consequence of their ill treatment of a brother trapper ; whom they had cast off from their party, and left with his bag and baggage, and an Indian wife into the bargain, in the midst of a desolate prairie. The horseman gave a piteous account of the situation of this helpless pair, and solicited the loan of horses to bring them and their effects to the camp. The captain was not a man to refuse assist- ance to any one in distress, especially when there was a woman in the case ; horses were immediately dispatched, with an escort, to aid the unfortunate couple. The next day, they made their appearance with all their effects : the man, a stalwart mountaineer, with a peculiarly game look ; the woman, a young Blackfoot beauty, arrayed in the trappings and trinketry of a free trapper's bride. Finding the woman to be quick-witted and communicative. Captain Bonneville entered into conversation with her, and obtained from her many particulars concerning the habits and customs of her tribe ; especially their wars and huntings. They pride themselves upon being the " best legs of the mountains,*' VOL. II.— 14 2IO Xonncvillc*6 'BbventnvcB ■ (■■ W ', W: rn] and hunt the buffalo on foot. This is done in spiing-time, when the frosts have thawed and the ground is soft. The heavy buffalo then sink over their hoofs at • every step, and are easily overtaken by the Blackfeet ; whose fleet steps press lightly on the surface. It is said, however, that the buffalo on the Pacific side of the Rocky Mountains are fleeter and more active than on the Atlantic side ; those upon the plains of the Columbia can scarcely be overtaken by a horse that would outstrip the same animal in the neighborhood of the Platte, the usual hunting ground of the Blackfeet. In the course of further conversation. Captain Bonneville drew from the Indian woman her whole story ; which gave a picture of savage life, and of the drudgery and hardships to which an Indian wife is subject. ** I was the wife," said she, " of a Blackfoot warrior, and I served him faithfully. Who was so well served as he ? Whose lodge was so well provided, or kept so clean ? I brought wood in the morning, and placed water always at hand. I watched for his coming ; and he found his meat cooked and ready. If he rose to go forth, there was nothing to delay him. I searched the thought that was in his heart, to save him the trouble of speaking. When I went abroad on errands for him, the chiefs and 'W" store ot tbe JSIacfifoot JSridc 211 warriors smiled upon me, and the young braves spoke soft things in secret ; but my feet were in the straight path, and my eyes could see nothing but him. ** When he went out to hunt, or to war, who aided to equip him, but I ? When he returned, I met him at the door ; I took his gun ; and he entered without further thought. While he sat and smoked, I unloaded his horses ; tied them to the stakes ; brought in their loads, and was quickly at his feet. If his moccasins were wet, I took them off and put on others which were dry and warm. I dressed all the skins he had taken in the chase. He could never say to me, why is it not done? He hunted the deer, the antelope, and the buffalo, and he watched for the enemy. Everything else was done by me. When our people moved their camp, he mounted his horse and rode away ; free as though he had fallen from the skies. He had nothing to do with the labor of the camp ; it was I that packed the horses, and led them on the journey. When we halted in the evening, and he sat with the other braves and smoked, it was I that pitched his lodge ; and when he jame home to eat and sleep, his supper and his bed was ready. " I served him faithfully ; and what was my reward ? A cloud was always on his brow, and 'f . V i 1' • .ff I' ■ ■ % ■ ;jT nm aia JSonncvilIe'0 BDventurce sharp lightning on his tongue. I was his dog ; and not his wife. " Who was it that scarred and bruised me ? It was he. My brother saw how I was treated. His heart was big for me. He begged me to leave my tyrant and fly. Where could I go ? If retaken, who would protect me ? My brother was not a chief ; he could not save me from blows and wounds, perhaps death. At length I was persuaded. I followed my brother from the village. He pointed the way to the Nez Percys, and bade me go and live in peace among them. We parted. On the third day I saw the lodges of the Nez Percys before me. I paused for a moment, and had no heart to go on ; but my horse neighed, and I took it as a good sign, and suffered him to gallop forward. In a little while I was in the midst of the lodges. As I sat silent on my horse, the peo- ple gathered round me, and inquired whence I came. I told my story. A chief now wrapped his blanket close around him, and bade me dis- mount. I obeyed. He took my horse to lead him away. My heart grew small within me. I felt, on parting with my horse, as if my last friend was gone. I had no \vords, and my eyes were dry. As he led off my horse, a young brave stepped forward. 'Are you a chief of the people ? ' cried he. * Do we listen B JSIaclifoot JSelte 213 to you in council, and follow you in battle? Behold ! a stranger flies to our camp from the dogs of Blackfeet, and asks protection. Let shame cover your face ! The stranger is a woman, and alone. If she were a warrior, or had a warrior by her side, your heart would not be big enough to take her horse. But he is yours. By the right of war you may claim him ; but look ! ' — his bow was drawn, and the arrow ready ! — ' you never shall cross his back ! * The arrow pierced the heart of the horse, and he fell dead. ' ' An old woman said she would be my mother. She led me to her lodge : my heart was thawed by her kindness, and my eyes burst forth with tears ; like the frozen fountains in spring-time. She never changed ; but as the days passed away, was still a mother to me. The people were loud in praise of the young brave, and the chief was ashamed. I lived in peace. " A party of trappers came to the village, and one of them took me for his wife. This is he. I am very happy ; he treats me with kind- ness, and I have taught him the language of my people. As we were travelling this way, some of the Blackfeet warriors beset us, and carried off the horses of the party. We fol- lowed, and my husband held a parley with ' I I 214 Xonncvillc*B H^vcntutcB them. The guns were laid down, and the pipe was lighted ; but some of the white men at- tempted to seize the horses by force, and then a battle began. The snow was deep ; the white men sank into it at every step ; but the red men, with their snow-shoes, passed over the surface like birds, and drove off many of the horses in sight of their owners. With those that remained we resumed our journey. At length words took place between the leader of the party and my husband. He took away our horses, which had escaped in the battle, and turned us from his camp. My husband had one good friend among the trappers. That is he (pointing to the man who had asked assist- ance for them). He is a good man. His heart is big. When he came in from hunting, and found that we had been driven away, he gave up all his wages, and followed us, that he might speak good words for us to the white captain." ■'M-i Cbaptet f f • k P.f'rdezvous at Wind River — Canipaign of Montero and his Brigade in the Crow Country — Wars between tbe Crows and Blackfeet — Death of Arapooish — Blackfeet Lurkers — Sagacity of the Horse — Depend- ence of the Hunter on his Horse — Return to the Settlements. ON the 22d of June, Captain Bonneville raised his camp, and moved to the forks of Wind River ; the appointed place of rendezvous. In a few days, he was joined there by the brigade of Montero, which had been sent, in the preceding year, to beat up the Crow country, and afterwards proceed to the Arkansas. Montero had followed the early part of his instructions ; after trapping u| jii some of the upper streams, he proceeded to Powder River. Here he fell in with the Crow villages or bands, who treated him with unusual kindness, and prevailed upon him to take up his winter-quarters among them. 2lA JSonncvilIe'0 Bdvcntutes I** The Crows, at that time, were struggling al- most for existence with their old enemies, the Blackfeet ; who, in the past year, had picked off the flower of their warriors in various en- gagements, and among the rest, Arapooish, the friend . 5 the whitv. men. That sagacious and magnanimous chief, had beheld, with grief, the ravages which war was making in his tribe, and that it was declining in force, ind must eventually be destroyed, unless some signal blow could be struck to retrieve its fortunes. In a pitched battle of the two tribes, he made a speech to his warriors, urging them to set everything at hazard in one furious charge ; which done, he led the way into the thickest of the foe. He was soon separated from his men, and fell covered wiih wounds, but his self-devotion was not in vain. The Blackfeet were defeated ; and from that time the Crows plucked up fresh heart, and were frequently successful. Montero had not been long encamped among them, when he discovered that the Blackfeet were hovering about the neighborhood. One day the hunters came galloping into the camp, and proclaimed that a band of the enemy was at hand. The Crows flew to arms, leaped on their horses, and dashed out in squadrons in pursuit. They overtook the retreating enemy ,!■ . ■! B Desperate figbt 217 in the midst of a plain. A desperate fight en- sued. The Crows had the advantage of num- bers, and of fighting on horseback. The greater part of the Blackfeet were slain ; the remnant took shelter in a close thicket of wil- lows, where the horse could not enter ; whence they plied i.heir bows vigorously. The Crows drew oflf out of bow-shot, and endeavored, by taunts and bravadoes, to draw the warriors out of their retreat. A few of the best-mounted among them, rode apart from the rest. One of their number then advanced alone, with that martial air and equestrian g^ace for which the tribe is noted. When within an arrow's flight of the thicket, he loosened his rein, urged his horse to full speed, threw his body on the opposite side, so as to hang by but one leg, and present no mark to the foe, in this way, he swept along in front of the thicket, launching his arrows from under the neck of his steed. Then regaining his seat in the saddle, he wheeled round, and re- turned whooping and scoffing to his compan- ions, who received him with yells of applause. Another and another horseman repeated this exploit ; but the Blackfeet were not to be taunted out of their safe shelter. The victors feared to drive desperate men to extremities, so they forbore to attempt the thicket. To- '«.'1 2l8 JSotmeviUe'0 Boventured v*;>:.: fm.' in J in- wards night they gave over the attack, and returned all-glorious with the scalps of the slain. Then came on the usual feasts and triumphs ; the scalp-dance of warriors round the ghastly trophies, and all the other fierce revelry of barbarous warfare. When the braves had finished with the scalps, they were, as usual, given un to the women and children, and made the objects of new parades and dances. They were then treasured up as invaluable trophies and decorations by the braves who had won them. It is worthy of note, that the scalp of a white man, either through policy or fear, is treated with more charity than that of an Indian. The warrior who won it is entitled to his tri- umph if he demands it. In such case, the war party alone dance round the scalp. It is then taken down, and the shagged frontlet of a buffalo substituted in its place, and aban- doned to the triumphs and insults of the million. To avoid being involved in these guerillas, as well as to escape from the extremely social intercourse of the Crows, which began to be oppressive, Montero moved to the distance of several miles from their camps, and there formed a winter cantonment of huts. He now maintained a vigilant watch at night. Their Sagaciti? of tbe 1)orde 210 :ack, and ►s of the lasts and ►rs round ber fierce /"hen the Ips, they jmen and w parades ired up as IS by the of a white is treated tn Indian. I to his tri- case, the alp. It is frontlet of and aban- Its of the t guerillas, nely social igan to be listance of and there He now ;ht. Their horses, which were turned loose to graze dur- ing the day, under heedful eyes, were broughi in at night, and shut up in strong pens, built of large logs of cotton- wood. The snows, during a portion of the winter, were so deep that the poor animals could find but little sustenance. Here and there a tuft of grass would peer above the snow ; but they were in general driven to browse the twigs and tender branches of the trees. When they were turned out in the morning, the first moments of free- dom from the confinement of the pen were spent in frisking and gamboling. This done, they went soberly and sadly to work, to glean their scanty subsistence for the day. In the meantime, the men stripped the bark of the cotton-wood tree for the evening fodder. As the poor horses would return towards night, with sluggish and dispirited air, the moment they saw their owners approach them with blankpts filled with cotton-wood bark, their whole demeanor underwent a change. A universal neighing and capering took place ; they would rush forward, smell to the blankets, paw the earth, snort, whinny and prance round with head and tail erect, until the blankets were opened, and the welcome provender spread before them. These evidences of intelli- gence and gladness were frequently recounted r*-; T 220 XonncvUc*B BDvcnturcd by the trappers as proving the sagacity of the animal. These veteran rovers of the mountains look upon their horses as in some respects gifted with almost human intellect. An old and experienced trapper, when mounting guard about the camp in dark nights and times of peril, gives heedful attention to all the sounds and signs of the horses. No enemy enters nor approaches the camp without attracting their notice, and their movements not only give a vague alarm, but, it is said, will even indicate to the knowing trapper the very quarter whence danger threatens. In the day-time, too, while a hunter is en- gaged on the prairie, cutting up the deer or buffalo he has slain, he depends upon his faithful horse as a sentinel. The sagacious animal sees and smells all round him, and by his starting and whinnying, gives notice of the approach of strangers. There seems tq be a dumb communion and fellowship, a sort of fra- ternal sympathy, between the hunter and his horse. They mutually rely upon each other for company and protection ; and nothing is more difficult, it is said, than to surprise an experienced hunter on the prairie, while his old and favorite steed is at his side. Montero had not long removed his camp JSIaclifeet Xurlterd 321 from the vicinity of the Crows, and fixed him- self in his new quarters, when the Blackfeet marauders discovered his cantonment, and be- gan to haunt the vicinity. He kept up a vigilant watch, however, and foiled every attempt of the enemy, who, at length, seemed to have given up in despair, and abandoned the neighborhood. The trappers relaxed their vigilance, therefore, and one night, after a day of severe labor, no guards were posted, and the whole camp was soon asleep. Towards midnight, however, the lightest sleepers were aroused by the trampling of hoofs ; and, giving the alarm, the whole party were immediately on their legs, and hastened to the pens. The bars were down ; but no enemy was to be seen or heard, and the horses being all found hard by, it was supposed the bars had been left down through negligence. All were once more asleep, when, in about an hour, there was a second alarm, and it was discovered that sev- eral horses were missing. The rest were mounted, and so spirited a pursuit took place, that eighteen of the number carried off were regained, and but three remained in the pos- session of the enemy. Traps, for wolves, had been set about the camp the preceding day. In the morning, it was discovered that a Black- foot was entrapped by one of them, but had I I '1- i 1 i ^. 'i' ■ 222 ¥ ; t It !■ ' ;!.■ ! ; J 1 '.r 1 i \ J3onnevfIIe'0 B^vcnturc0 succeeded in dragging it off. His trail was followed for a long distance, which he must have limped alone. At length, he appeared to have fallen in with some of his comrades, who had relieved him from his painful encum- brance. These were the leading incidents of Mon- tero's campaign in the Crow country. The united parties now celebrated the 4th of July, in rough hunters' style, with hearty convivial- ity ; after which Captain Bonneville made his final arrangements. Leaving Montero with a brigade of trappers to open another campaign, he put himself at the head of the residue of his men, and set off on his return to civilized life. We shall not detail his journey along the course of the Nebraska, and so from point to point of the wilderness, until he and his band reached the frontier settlements on the 22d of August. Here, according to his own account, his cavalcade might have been taken for a proces- sion of tatterdemalion savages ; for the men were ragged almost to nakedness, and had contracted a wildness of aspect during three years of wondering in the wilderness. A few hours in a populous town, however, produced a magical metamorphosis. Hats of the most ample brim and longest nap ; coats with but- Veturn to tbe Settlement at3 ail was e must ppeared mrades, encum- of Mon- y. The of July, jnvivial- nade his o with a impaign, sidue of civilized ilongthe point to his band e 22d of unt, his a proces- the men and had ng three A few jroduced the most srith but- tons that shone like mirrors, and pantaloons of the most ample plenitude, took place of the well-worn trapper's equipments ; and the happy wearers might be seen strolling about in all directions, scattering their silver like sailors just from a cruise. The worthy captain, however, seems by no means to have shared the excitement of his men, on finding himself once more in the thronged resorts of civilized life, but, on the contrary, to have looked back to the wilderness with regret. * ' Though the prospect, ' ' says he, " of once more tasting the blessings of peaceful society, and passing days and nights under the calm guardianship of the laws, was not without its attractions ; yet to those of us whose whole lives had been spent in the stirring eiicitement and perpetual watchfulness of adventures in the wilderness, the change was far from, promising an increase of that contentment and inward satisfaction most con- ducive to happiness. He who, like myself, has roved almost from boyhood among the children of the forest, and over the unfurrowed plains and rugged heights of the western wastes, will not be startled to learn that, not- withstanding all the fascinations of the world on this civilized side of the mountains, I would fain make my bow to the splendors and gayeties 224 JSonneviUe'0 BDt^cnturea ■ ' J M'l.; 11 of the metropolis, and plunge again amidst the hardships and perils of the wilderness." We have only to add, that the affairs of the captain have been satisfactorily arranged with the War Department, and that he is actually in service at Fort Gibson, on our western frontier ; where we hope he may meet with further opportunities of indulging his peculiar tastes, and of collecting graphic and character- istic details of the great western wilds and their motley inhabitants. We here close our picturlngs of the Rocky Mountains and their wild inhabitants, and of the wild life that prevails there ; which we have been anxious to fix on recon'i, because we are aware that this singular state of things is full of mutation, and must soon undergo great changes, if not entirely pass away. The fur trade, itself, which has given life to all this portraiture, is essentially evanescent. Rival parties of trappers soon exhaust the streams, especially when competition renders them heed- less and wasteful of the beaver. The fur- bearing animals extinct, a complete change will come over the scene ; the gay free trapper and his steed, decked out in wild array, and CcttciuNtid Itemarlid 23$ lidst the 11 rs of the [ed with actually western iet with peculiar baracter- ilds and le Rocky 3, and of rhich we , because of things undergo ay. The ife to all Qt. Rival streams, lem heed- The fur- change :e trapper rray, and tinkling with bells and trinketry ; the savage war chief, plumed and painted, and ever on the prowl ; the trader's ca\alcade, winding through defiles or over naked plains, with the stealthy war party lurking on its trail ; the buffalo chase, the hunting camp, the mad carouse in the midst of danger, the night attack, the stampado, the scamper, the fierce skirmish among rocks and cliffs, — all this romance of savage life, which yet exists among the moun- tains, will then exist but in frontier story, and seem like the. fiction of chivalry or fairy tale. Some new system of things, or rather some new modification, will succeed among the roving people of this vast wilderness ; but just as opposite, perhaps, to the habitudes of civil- ization. The great Chippewyan chain of mountains, and the candy and volcanic plains which extend on either side, are represented as incapable of cultivation. The pasturage, which prevails there during a certain portion of the year, soon withers under the aridity of the atmosphere, and leaves nothing but dreary wastes. An immense belt of rocky mountains and volcanic plains, several hundred miles in width, must ever remain an irreclaimable wilderness, intervening between the abodes cf civilization, and affording a last refuge to the Indian. Here roving tribes of hunters, living VOL. II. — 15 1 ) :l r ;i i ' t' ,f. ■ . ' 1 I if I 916 J9onneville'0 B^venture0 in terits or lodges, and following the migrations of the game, may lead a life of savage indepen- dence, where there is nothing to tempt the cupidity of the white man. The amalgamation of various tribes, and of white men of every na- tion, will in time produce hybrid races like the mountain Tartars of the Caucasus. Possessed as they are of immense droves of horses, should they continue their present predatory and war- like habits, they may, in time, become a scourge to the civilized frontiers on either side of the mountains ; as they are at present a terror to the traveller and trader. The facts disclosed in the present work, clearly manifest the policy of establishing military posts and a mounted force to protect our traders in their jotu-neys across the great western wilds, and of pushing the outposts into the very heart of the singular wilderness we have laid open, so as to maintain some degree of sway over the country, and to put an end to the kind of ** black mail,** levied on all occasions by the savage ** chivalry of the mountains.*' stations ndepen- npt the imation irery na- like the essed as should nd war- scourge 5 of the error to ; work, >lishing protect le great mtposts demess n some to put vied on r of the Hppen&iy XEbe a^\>enturc5 of Captain BonnevHIec 't ! In. Bppen^fa:• Nathaniel J, Wyeth, and the Trade of the Far West, Wb have brought Captain Bonneville to the end of his western campaigning ; yet we cannot close this work without subjoining some particulars concerning the fortunes of his contemporary, Mr. Wyeth ; anec- dotes of whose enterprise have, occasionally, been in- terwoven in the party-colored web of our narrative. Wyeth effected his intention of establishing a trading post on the Portneuf, which he named Fort Hall. Here, for the first time, the American flag was unfurled to the breeze that sweeps the great naked wastes of the central wilderness. Leaving twelve men here, with a stock of goods, to trade with the neighboring tribes, he prosecuted his journey to the Columbia ; where he established another post, called Fort Wil- liams, on Wappatoo Island, at the mouth of the Walla- mut. This was to be the head factory of his company ; whence they were to carry on their fishing and trap- ping operations, and their trade with the interior ; and 229 S30 XonncvUlc*6 B^ventured . :i»^ where they were to receive and dispatch their annual ship. The plan of Mr. Wyeth appears to have been well concerted. He had observed that the Rocky Moun- tain Fur Company, the bands of free trappers, as well as the Indians west of the mountains, depended for their supplies upon goods brought from St. Louis ; which, in consequence of the expenses and risks of a long land carriage, were fui;ni:ihed them at an im- mense advance on first cost. He had an idea that they might be much more cheaply supplied from the Pacific side. Horses would cost much less on the borders of the Columbia than at St. Louis : the transportation by land was much shorter, and through a country much more safe from the hostility of savage tribes, which, on the route from and to St. Louis, annually cost the lives of many men. On this idea he grounded his plan. He combined the salmon fishery with the fur trade. A fortified trading post was to be established on the Columbia, to carry on a trade with the natives for salmon and peltries, and to fish and trap on their own account. Once a year, a ship was to come from the United States, to bring out goods for the interior trade, and to take home the salmon and furs which have been collected. Part of the goo^s, thus brought out, were to be dispatched to the mountains, to supply the trapping companies and the Indian tribes, in exchange for their furs ; which w«. ■ to be brought down to +he W^U fippcndfi 231 Columbia, to be sent home in the next annual ship : and thus an annual round was to be kept up. The profits on the salmon, it was expected, would coverall the expenses of the ship ; so that the goods brought out, and the furs carried home, would cost nothing as to freight. His enterprise was prosecuted with a spirit, intelli- gence, and perseverance, that merited success. All the details that we have met with, prove him to be no ordinary man. He appears to have the mind to con- ceive, and the energy to execute extensive and strik- ing plans. He had once more reared the American flag in the lost domains of Astoria ; and had he been enabled to maintain the footing he had so gallantly eflfected, he might have regained for his country the opulent trade of the Columbia, of ^hich our states- men have negligently suffered us to be dispossessed. It is needless to go into a detail of the variety of accidents and cross-purposes, which caused the failure of his scheme. They were such as all undertakings of the kind, involving combined operations by sea and land, are liable to. What he most wanted, was suffi- cient capital to enable him to endure incipient obsta- cles and losses ; and to hold on until success had time to spring up from the midst of disastrous experi- ments. It is with extreme regret we learn that he has re- cently been compelled to dispose of his establishment m 232 3BonncviIle'0 Bdt'enturea Mr i at Wappatoo Island, to the Hudson's Bay Company ; who, it is but justice to say, have, according to his own account, treated him throughout the whole of his enterprise, with great fairness, friendship, and liberal- ity. That company, therefore, still maintains an un- rivaled sway over the whole country washed by the Columbia and its tributaries. It has, in fact, as far as its chartered powers permit, followed out the splendid scheme contemplated by Mr. Aster, when he founded his establishment at the mouth of the Columbia. From their emporium of Vancouver, companies are sent forth in every direction, to supply the interior posts, to trade with the natives, and to trade upon the various streams. These thread the rivers, traverse the plains, penetrate to the heart of the mountains, ex- tend their enterprise northward, to the Russian pos- sessions, and southward, to the confines of California. Their yearly supplies are received, by sea, at Vancou- ver ; and thence their furs and peltries are shipped to London. They likewise maintain a considerable com- merce, in wheat and lumber, with the Pacific Islands, and to the north, with the Russian settlements. Though the company, by treaty, have a right to a participation only, in the trade of these regions, and are, in fact, but tenants on sufferance ; yet have they quietly availed themselves of the original oversight, and subsequent supineness of the American govern- ment, to establish a monopoly of the trade of the river Bppendii 233 ompany ; ig to his ole of his id liberal- QS an un- ;d by the , as far as i splendid i founded [Columbia, sanies are e interior ; upon the •averse the Litains, ex- issian pos- tal ifornia. it Vancou- shipped to rable com- ic Islands, :nts. right to a ;gions, and have they oversight, an govem- )f the river and its dependencies : and are adroitly proceeding to fortify themselves in their usurpation, by securing all the strong points of the country. Fort George, originally Astoria, which was aban- doned on the removal of the main factory to Van- couver, was renewed in 1830 ; and is now kept up as a fortified post and trading house. All the places ac- cessible to shipping have been taken possession of, and posts recently established at them by the com* pany. The greater capital of this association ; their long established system ; their hereditary influence over the Indian tribes ; their internal organization, which makes everything go on with the regularity of a ma- chine ; and the low wages of their people, who are mostly Canadians, give them great advantages over the American traders : nor is it likely the latter will ever be able to maintain any footing in the land, un- til the question of territorial right is adjusted between th*e two countries. The sooner that takes place, the better. It is a question too serious to national pride, if not to national interest, to be slurred over ; and every year is adding to the difficulties which en- viron it. The fur trade, which is now the main object of en- terprise west of the Rocky Mountains, forms but a part of the real resources of the country. Beside the salmon fishery of the Columbia, which is capable of i !! ■ $ : r (11 I' i,i ''!.; ml: :->;. ».'?- ''ft 234 J3onneviUc'0 Bdventurea being rendered a considerable source of profit ; the great valleys of the lower country, below the elevated volcanic plateau, arc calculated to give sustenance to countless flocks and herds, and to sustain a great population of graziers and agriculturists. Such, for instance, is the beautiful valley of the Wallamut ; from which the establishment at Van- couver draws most of its supplies. Here, the company holds mills and farms ; and has provided for some of its superannuated officers and servants. This valley, above the falls, is about fifty miles wide, and extends a great distance to the south. The climate is mild, being sheltered by lateral ranges of mountains ; while the soil, for richness, has been equalled to the best of the Missouri lands. The valley of the river Des Chutes, is also admirably calculated for a great graz- ing country. All the best horses used by the com- pany for the mountains, are raised there. The valley is of such happy temperature, that grass grows there throughout the year, and cattle may be left out to pasture during the winter. These valleys must form the grand points of commencement of the future settlement of the country ; but there must be many such, enfolded in the embraces of these lower ranges of mountains, which, though at present they lie waste and uninhabited, and, to the eye of the trader and trapper, present but barren wastes, would, in the hands of skillful agriculturists and husbandmen, soon Bppendfs 235 rofit; the » elevated enance to ti a great ey of the t at Van- » company )r some of his valley, ad extends te is mild, lins ; while the best of river Des great graz- the com- The valley rows there lleft out to must form the future it be many iwer ranges ly lie waste trader and lid, in the men, soon assume a different aspect, and teem with waving crops, or be covered with flocks and herds. The resources of the country, too, while in the hands of a company restricted in its trade, can be but partially called forth ; but in the hands of Americans, enjoying a direct trade with the East Indies, would be brought into quickening activity, and might soon realize the dream of Mr. Astor, in giving rise to a flourishing commercial empire. Wreck of a Japanese Junk on the Northwest Coast, The following extract of a letter which we received, lately, from Mr. Wyeth, may be interesting, as throw- ing some light upon the question as to the manner in which America has been peopled : ••Are you aware of thp fact, that in the winter of 1833, a Japanese junk was wrecked on the northwest coast, in the neighborhood of Queen Charlotte's Isl- and ; and that all but two of the crew, then much reduced by starvation and disease, during a long drift across the Pacific, were killed by the natives ? The two fell into the hands of the Hudson's Bay Company and were sent to England. I saw them, on my arrival at Vancouver, in 1834." 236 JSonncviUe'0 BDventuree i' wm Ifisirudiofis to Captain Bonneville from the Major- General Commanding the Army of the United States. Head-quarters of the Army, •» Washington, August 3, 1831. j Sir, — The leave of absence which you have asked, for the purpose of enabling you to carry into execu- tion your design of exploring the country to the Rocky Mountains and beyond, with a view of ascer- taining the nature and character of the several tribes of Indians inhabiting those regions ; the trade which might be profitably carried on with them ; the quality o the soil, the productions, the minerals, the natural history, the climate, the geography and topography, as well as geology, of the various parts of the country within the limits of the territories belonging to the United States, between our frontier and the Pacific, — has been duly considered and submitted to the War Department for approval, and has been sanctioned. You are, therefore, authorize^ to be absent from the army until October, 1833. It is understood that the government is to be at no expense in reference to your proposed expedition, it having originated with yourself; and all that you required was the permis- sion from the proper authority to undertake the enter- prise. You will, naturally, in preparing yourself for the expedition, provide suitable instruments, and especially the best maps of the interior to be found. Sppcndts 237 It is desirable, besides what is enumerated as the object of your enterprise, that you ^ote particularly the number of warriors that may be in eacn tribe or nation that you may meet with ; their alliances with other tribes, and their relative position as to a state of peace or war, and whether their friendly or warlike dispositions towards each other are recent or of long standing. You will gratify us by describing their manner of making war; of the mode of subsisting themselves during a state of war, and a state of peace ; their arms, and the effect of them ; whether they act on foot or on horseback ; detailing the discipline and manceuvers of the war parties ; the power of their horses, size, and general description ; in short, every information which you may conceive would be useful to the government. You will avail yourself of every opportunity of in- forming us of your position and progress, and at the expiration of your leave of absence, will join your proper station. I have the honor to be. Sir, Your obt. servant, Ai^EXANDER Macomb, Major-General^ Commanding the Army, Capt. B. L. E. B0NNEVILI.E, 7/A RegL of Infantry ^ New York, rtMecellanlcs •39 1 ■ l> i i , 1 ikl WOLFERT'S ROOST. Cbronicle 1* ABOUT five-and-twent- miles from the ancient and renowned city of Manhat- tan, formerly called New Amsterdam, and vulgarly called New York, on the eastern bank of that expansion of the Hudson known among Dutch mariners of yore as the Tappan Zee, being in fact the great Mediterranean Sea of the New Netherlands, stands a little, old- fashioned stone mansion, all made up of gable ends, and as full of angles and corners as an old cocked hat. It is said, in fact, to have been modelled after the cocked hat of Peter the Headstrong, as the Kscurial was modelled after the gridiron of the blessed St. Lawrence. Though but of small dimensions, yet, like many small people, it is of mighty spirit, and VOL. U.— 16 241 343 Knoirert'0 "Roost i ;,"! i!:; t:; I''.- 'i: «; values itself greatly on its antiquity, being one of the oldest edifices, for its size, in the whole country. It claims to be an ancient seat of empire, — I may rather say an empire in itself, — and, like all empires, great and small, has had its grand historical epochs. In speaking of this doughty and valorous little pile, I shall call it by its usual appellation of " The Roost " ; though that is a name given to it in modern days, since it became the abode of the white man. Its origin, in truth, dates far back in that remote region commonly called the fabulous age, in which vulgar fact becomes mystified and tinted up with delectable fiction. The eastern shore of the Tappan Sea was inhabited in those days by an unsophisticated race, ex- isting in all the simplicty of nature ; that is to say, they lived by hunting and fishing, recre- ated themselves occasionally with a little toma- hawking and scalping. Each stream that flow^s down from the hills into the Hudson had its petty sachem, who r iled over a hand's- breadth of forest on either side, and had his seat of government at its mouth. The chief- tain who ruled the Roost was not merely a great warrior, but a medicine-man, or prophet, or conjurer, for they all mean the same thing in Indian parlance. Of his fighting propen- I II k I TKnoKcrt'd tlooBt 243 sities evidences still remain, in various arrow- lieads of flint, and stone battle-axes, occasion- ally digged up about the Roost ; of his wizard powers we have a token in a spring which wells up at the foot of the bank, on the very margin of the river, which, it is said, was gifted by him with rejuvenating powers, something like the renowned Fountain of Youth in the Flori- das, so anxiously but vainly sought after by the veteran Ponce de Leon. This story, how- ever, is stoutly contradicted by an old Dutch matter-of-fact tradition, which declares that the spring in question was smuggled over from Holland in a churn, by Femmetie Van Blarcom, wife of Goosen Garret Van Blarcom, one of the first settlers, and that she took it up by night, unknown to her husband, from beside their farm-house near Rotterdam , being sure she should find no water ^qual to it in the new country ; — and she was ngh.. The wizard sachem had a g^eat passion for discussing territorial questions, and settling boundary lines ; in other words, he had the spirit of annexation. This kept him in con- tinual feud with the neighboring sachems, each of whom stood up stoutly for his hand- breadth of territory ; so that there is not a petty stream nor rugged hill in the neighbor- hood that has not been the subject of long talks is: ■ • ) w '/tt- ' i' -m. w ■J i osed for d, hard- noun ted, ound of r border old times infested rallying cob Van iminently i, bold of s warrior [ig enter- n discov- |raud, and It seemed an ear as tale, refugees leir forays a hasty :attle into a drove, and hurry down to the lines along the river road, or the valley of the Neperan. Before they w^re half-way down, Jacob Van Tassel, with the holy brotherhood of Tarry- town, Petticoat Lane, and Sleepy Hollow, would be clattering at their heels. And now there would be a general scamper for King's Bridge, the pass over Spiting Devil Creek, into the British lines. Sometimes the moss- tropers would be overtaken, and eased of part of their booty. Sometimes the whole caval- gada would urge its headlong course across the bridge with thundering tramp and dusty whirlwind. At such times their pursuers would rein up their steeds, survey that perilous pass with wary eye, and, wheeling about, in- demnify themselves by foraging the refugee region of Morrisania. While the debatable land was liable to be thus harried, the great Tappan Sea, along which it extends, was likewise domineered over by the foe. British ships of war were anchored here and there in the wide expanses of the river, mere floating castles to hold it in subjection. Stout galleys armed with eighteen pounders, and navigated with sails and oars, cruised about like hawks, while row-boats made descents upon the land, and foraged the country along shore. m ■ u 256 TPOoIferrd VooBt u If' t I » ' .1 ! It was a sore grievance to the yeomanr>' along the Tappan Sea to behold that little Mediterranean ploughed by hostile prows, and the noble river of which they were so proud reduced to a state of thraldom. Councils of war were held by captains of market-boats and other river-craft, to devise ways and means of dislodging the enemy. Here and there on a point of land extending into the Tappan Sea, a mud work would be thrown up, and an old field-piece mounted, with which a knot of rustic artillerymen would fire away for a long summer's day at some frigate dozing at anchor far out of reach ; and reliques of such works may still be seen overgrown with weeds and brambles, with perad venture the half-buried fragment of a cannon which may have burst. Jacob Van Tassel was a prominent man in these belligerent operations ; but he was prone, moreover, to carry on a petty warfare of his own for his individual recreation and refresh- ment. On a row of hooks above the fireplace of the Roost, reposed his great piece of ord- nance, — a duck, or rather goose-gun, of unpar- alleled longitude, with which it was said he could kill a wild-goose half way across the Tappan Sea. Indeed, there are as many- Wonders told of this renowned gun, as of XQlolfcrrd Itooet -5. the enchanted weapons of classic story. When the belligerent feeling was strong upon Jacob, he would take down his gun, sally forth alone, and prowl along shore, dodging behind rocks and trees, watching for hours together any ship or galley at anchor or becalmed, as a valorous mouser will watch a rat-hole. So sure as a boat approached the shore, bang went the great goose-gun, sending on board a shower of slugs and buckshot ; and away scut- tled Jacob Van Tassel through some woody ravine. As the Roost stood in a lonely situation, and might be attacked, he guarded against surprise by making loop-holes in the stone walls, through which to fire upon an assailant. His wife was stout-hearted as himself, and could load as fast as he could fire ; and his sister, Nochie Van Wurmer, a redoubtable widow, was a match, as he said, for the stoutest man in the country. Thus garrisoned, his little castle was fitted to stand a siege, and Jacob was the man to defend il (..» the last charge of powder. In the process of time the Roost became one of the secret stations, or lurking-places, of the Water Guard. This was an aquatic corps in the pay of government, organisJed to range the waters of the Hudson, and keep watch iupon the mpyements of the enemy. It was •^ VOL. II.— 17 m f '^il 258 TIQloUcrt'0 l^oodt ii ■!/■■ i-i mi composed of nautical men of the river, and hardy youngsters of the adjacent countrj', expert at pulling an oar or handling a musket. They were provided with whale-boats, long and sharp, shaped like canoes, and formed to lie lightly on the water, and be rowed with great rapidity. In these they would lurk out of sight by day, in nooks and bays, and behind points of land, keeping a sharp look-out upon the British ships, and giving intelligence to head-quarters of any extraordinary movement. At night they rowed about in pairs, pulling quietly along with muffled oars, under shadow of the land, or gliding like spectres about frigates and guard-ships to cut off any boat that might be sent to shore. In this way they were a source of constant uneasiness and alarm to the enemy. The Roost, as has been observed, was one of their lurking-places ; having a cove in front where their whale-boats could be drawn up out of sight, and Jacob Van Tassel being a vigilant ally, ready to take a part in any ' * scout or scrummage * ' by land or water. At this little warrior nest the hard-riding lads from the hills would hold consultations with the chivalry of the river, and here were con- certed divers of those daring enterprises which resounded from Spiting Devil Creek even unto er, and :ountr>'. musket. ;s, long rmed to ed with urk out 1 behind )ut upon gence to )vement. , pulling r shadow es about iny boat way they less and was one e in front rawn up being a ; in any Iter. At ling lads ons with ere con- ies which :ven unto TIQloItcrt'0 1R006t !59 Anthony's Nose. Here was concocted the midnight invasion of New York Island, and the conflagration of Delancy's Tory mansion, which makes such a blaze in revolutionary history. Nay, more, if the Traditions of the Roost may be credited, here was meditated, by Jacob Van Tassel and his compeers, a noc- turnal foray into New York itself, to surprise and carry oflf the British commanders, Howe and Clinton, and put a triumphant close to the war. There is no knowing whether this notable scheme might not have been carried into effect, had not one of Jacob Van Tassel's egregious exploits along shore with his goose-gun, with which he thought himself a match for any- thing, brought vengeance on his house. It so happened, that in the course of one of his solitary prowls he descried a British trans- port aground ; the stern swung toward shore within point-blank shot. The temptation was too great to be resisted. Bang ! went the ' great goose-gun, from the covert of the trees, shivering the cabin-windows and driving all hands forward. Bang ! bang ! the shots were repeated . The reports brought other of Jacob' s fellow bush-fighters to the spot. Before the transport could bring a gun to bear, or land a boat to take revenge, she was soundly pep- pered, and the coast evacuated. .rn 1/ J Si A) . It Hi I'! Tie il r*s\ M fl 260 TlQloirerre i^oodt If, ■■;■ ■ t ; V% ?|l! This was the last of Jacob's triumphs. He fared like some heroic spicier that has unwit- tingly ensnared a hornet to the utter ruin of his web. It was not long after the above ex- ploit that he fell into the hands of the enemy in the course of one of his forays, and was car- ried away prisoner to New York. The Roost itself, as a pestilent rebel nest, was marked out for signal punishment. The cock of the Roost being captive, there was none to garrison it but his stout-hearted spouse, his redoubtable sister, Nochie Van Wurnier, and Dinah, a strapping negro wench. An armed vessel came to anchor in front ; a boat full of men pulled to shore. The garrison 5ew to arms ; that is to say, to mops, broomsticks, shovels, tongs, and all kinds of domestic weapons, — for un- luckily the great piece of ordnance, the goose- gun, was absent with its owner. Above all, a vigorous defence was made with that most ' potent of female weapons, the tongue. Never did invaded hen-roost make a more vociferous outcry. It was all in vain. The house was sacked and plundered, fire was set to each corner, and in a few moments its blaze shed a baleful light far over the Tappan Sea. The invaders then pounced upon the blooming Laney Van Tassel, the beauty of the Roost, and endeavored to bear her off to the boat. But here was the In . TRnoIfert'd l^ocdt 261 tis. He i unwit- ruin of bove ex- te enemy was car- he Roost irked out he Roost irrison it ioubtable Dinah, a issel came len pulled s ; that is :1s, tongs, , — for un- the goose- 30ve all, a that most e. Never vociferous lOUse was ich corner, 1 a baleful e invaders aney Van ndeavored ire was the real tug of war. The mother, the aunt, and the strapping negro wench, all flew to the res- cue. The struggle continued down to the very water's edge, when a voice from the armed vessel at anchor ordered the spoilers to desist ; they relinquished their prize, jumped into their boats, and pulled off, and the heroine of the Roost escaped with a mere rumpling of her feathers. As to the stout Jacob himself, he was detained a prisoner in New Y jrk for the greater part of the war ; in the meantime the Roost remained a melancholy ruin, its stone walls and brick chimneys alone standing, the resorts of bats and owls. Superstitious notions prevailed about it. None of the country people would venture alone at night down the rambling lane which led to it, overhung with trees, and crossed here and there by a wild wandering brook. The story went that one of the victims of Jacob Van Tassel's great goose-gun had been buried there in un- consecrated ground. Even the Tappan Sea in front was said to be haunted. Often in the still twilight of a sum- mer evening, when the sea would be as glass, and the opposite hills would throw their pur- ple shadows half across it, a low sound would be heard as of the steady, vigorous pull of oars, though not a boat was to be descried. Some V .. If M .1 :1 'HI T 11 ■ ,t 262 WoltcxVs Voost ^1 ^^■'' I . might have supposed that a boat was rowed along unseen under the deep shadows of the opposite shores ; but the ancient traditionists of the neighborhood knew better. Some said it was one of the whale-bc ats of the old Water Guard, sunk by the British ships during the war, but now permitted to haunt its old cruising grounds ; but the prevalent opinion connected it with the awful fate of Rambout Van Dam of graceless memory. He was a roistering Dutch- man of Spiting Devil, who in times long past had navigated his boat alone one Saturday the v>'hole length of the Tappan Sea, to attend a quilting frolic at Kakiat, on the western shore. Here he had danced and drunk until midnight, when he entered his boat to return home. He was warned that he was on the verge of Sun- day morning ; but he pulled ofif neverthe- less, swearing he would not land until he reached Spiting Devil, if it took him a month of Sundays. He was never seen after- wards ; but may be heard plying his oars, as above mentioned, — being the Flying Dutchman of the Tapppn Sea, doomed to ply between Kakiat and Spiting Devil until the day of judg- ment. Cbrontcle If f « THIS revolutionary war was over. The debatable ground had once more become a quiet agricultural region ; the border chivalry had turned their swords into plough- shares, and their spears into pruning-hooks, and hung up their guns, only to be taken down occasionally in a campaign against wild pigeons on the hills, or wild ducks upon the Hudson. Jacob Van Tassel, whilome earned captive to New York, a flagitious rebel, had come forth from captivity a " hero of seventy-six.*' In z little while he sought the scenes of his former triumphs and mishaps, rebuilt the Roost, re- stored his goose-gun to the hooks over the fire- place, and reared once more on high the glittering weathercocks. Years and years passed over the time-honored little mansion . The honeysuckle and the sweet- brier crept up its walls ; the wren and the Phoebe-bird built under the eaves ; it gradually 263 'ii 1:, ■ H HI 264 '(IQlcUert'0 "Roodt ->:M^S l.i i: 'i^ : i ^ li l^ecame almost hidden among trees, through which it looked forth, as with half-shut eyes, upon the Tappan Sea. The Indian spring, famous in the days of the wizard sachem, still welled up at the bottom of the green bank ; and the wild brook, wild as ever, came babbling down the ravine, and threw itself into the little :ove where of yore the Water Guard harbored their whale-boats. Such vvas the state of the Roost many years since, at the time vheii Diedrich Knickerbocker came into this neigh bor hood, in the course of his researches anioiig the Dutch families for materials for his immortal history. The ex- terior of the eventful little pile seemed to him full of promise. The crow-step gables were of the primitive architecture of the province. The weathercocks which surmounted them had crowed in the glorious days of the New Netherlands. The one above the porch had actually glittered of yore on the great Vander Hey den palace at Albany. The interior of the mansion fulfilled its ex- ternal promise. Here were records of old times ; documents of the Dutch dynasty, res- cued from the profane hands of the English by Wolfert Acker, when he retreated from New Amsterdam. Here he had treasured them up like buried gold, and here they had been \K TKloltcrrd IRoost 265 miraculously preserved by St. Nicholas, at the time of the conflagration of the Roost. Here then did old Diedrich Knickerbocker take up his abode for a time, and set to work with intiquarian zeal to decipher these precious documents, which, like the lost books of I^ivy, had baffled the research of former historians ; a!id it is the facts drawn from these sources which give his work the preference, in point of accuracy, over every other history. It was during his sojourn in this eventful neighborhood that the historian is supposed to have picked up many of those legends, which have since been given by him to the world, or found among his papers. Such was the legend connected with the old Dutch Church of Sleepy Hollow. The Church itself was a monument of by-gone days. It had been built in the early time of the province. A tablet over the portal bore the names of its founders, — Frederick Filipson, a mighty man of yore, patroon of Yonkers, and his wife Katrina Van Courtland, of the Van Courtlands of Croton ; a powerful family connection, — ^with one foot resting on Spiting Devil Creek, and the other on the Croton River. Two weathercocks, with the initials of these illustrious personages, graced each end of the Church, one perched over the belfry, the other 966 'UaoUcrt'd l^oodt 1 :';i V i^^M over the chancel. As usual with ecclesiastical weathercocks, each pointed a different way ; and there vi^as a perpetual contradiction be- tween them on all points of windy doctrine ; emblematic, alas ! of the Christian propensity to schism and controversy. In the burying-ground adjacent to the Church, reposed the earliest fathers of a wide rural neighborhood. Here families were gar- nered together, side by side, in long platoons, in this last gathering place of kindred. With pious hand would Diedrich Knickerbocker turn down the weeds and brambles which had overgrown the tombstones, to decipher inscrip- tions in Dutch and English, of the names and virtues of succeeding generations of Van Tas- sels, Van Warts, and other historical worthies, with their portraitures faithfully carved, all bearing the family likeness to cherubs. The congregation in those days v/as of a truly rural character. City fashions had not as yet stole up to Sleepy Hollow. Dutch sun- bonnets and honest homespim still prevailed. Everything was in primitive style, even t*^ the bucket of water and tin cup near the door in summer, to assuage the thirst caused by the heat of the weather or the drought of the sermon. v The pulpit, with its widespreading sound- Moircrt'0 'Roodt 267 iastical ; way ; ion be- ctrine ; pensity to the a wide ire gar- latoons, With rbockcr lich had inscrip- oies and an Tas- rorthies, ved, all vas of a had not tch sun- revailed, jn t*^ the door in by the of the sound- ing-board, and the communion-table, curiously carved, had each come from Holland in the olden time, before the arts had sufl5ciently advanced in the colony for such achieve. aents. Aroimd these on Sundays would be gathered the elders of the church, gray-headed men, who led the psalmody, and in whom it would be difl&cult to recognize the hard-riding lads of yore, who scoured the debatable land in the time of the revolution. The drowsy influence of Sleepy Hollow was apt to breathe into this sacred edifice ; and now and then an elder might be seen with his handkerchief over his face to keep off the flies, and apparently listening to the dominie ; but really sunk into a summer slumber, lulled by the sultry notes of the locust from the neigh- boring trees. And now a word or two about Sleepy Hollow, which many have rashly deemed a fanciful creation, like the Lubberland of mariners. It was probably the mystic and dreamy sound of the name which first tempted the historian of the Manhattoes into its spellbound mazes. Ashe enc>^red, all nature seemed for the mo- ment to awake from its slumbers and break forth in gratulations. The quail whistled a welcome from the cornfield ; the loquacious cat-bird flew from bush to bush with restless ji m fi' Iff I r'.i ' i 368 TIQloltcrt'd 1^0001 m ■ ■ W ' I wing proclaiming his approach, or perked in- quisitively into his face as if to get a knowledge of his physiognomy. The woodpecker tapped a tattoo on the hollow apple-tree, and then peered round the trunk, as if asking how he relished the salutation ; while the squirrel scampered along the fence, whisking his tail over his head by way of a huzza. Here reigned the golden mean extolled by poets, in which no gold was to be found and ven'' little silver. The inhabitants of the Hollow were of the primitive stock, and had intermarried and bred in and in, from the earliest time of the province, never swarming far from the parent hive, but dividing and sub- dividing their paternal acres as they swarmed. Here were smptl farms, each having its little portion of meadow and cornfield ; its orchard of gnarled and sprawling apple-trees ; its gar- den, in which the rose, the marigold, and hollyhock, grew sociably with the cabbage, the pea, and the pumpkin ; each had its low- eaved mansion redundant with white-headed children ; with an old hat nailed against the wall for the housekeeping wren ; the coop on the g^ass-plot, where the motherly hen clucked round with her vagrant brood : each had its stone well, with a moss-covered bucket sus- pended to the long balancing-pole, according tLA'i llQloUert'0 1{oo0t 96Q to antediluvian hydraulics ; while within doors resounded the eternal hum of the spinning- wheel. Many were the great historical facts which the worthy Diedrich collected in these lowly mansions, and patiently would he sit by the old Dutch housewives witt a child on his knee, or a purring grimalkin on his lap, listening to endless ghost stories spun forth to the hum- ming accompaniment of the wheel. The delighted historian pursued his explora- tions far into the foldings where the Pocantico winds its wizard stream among the mazes of its old Indian haunts ; sometimes running darkly in pieces of woodland beneath balanc- ing sprays of beech and chestnut ; sometimes sparkling between grassy borders in fresh, green intei-vales ; here and there receiving the trib- utes of silver rills which came whimpering down the hill-sides h-om their parent springs. In a remote part of the Hollow, where the Pocantico forced its way down rugged rocks, stood Carl's mill, the haunted house of the neighborhood. It was indeed a goblin-looking pile : shattered and time-worn, dismal with clanking wheels and rushing streams, and all kinds of uncouth noises. A horse-shoe nailed to the door to keep off witches, seemed to have lost its power ; for as Diedrich approached, an • 4, *ri\i\ 11 ■ m Ill ••'r ; t «7o moiUtVa Itoodt l!i ii old negro thrust his head all dabbled with flour out of a hole above the water-wheel, and grinned and rolled his eyes, and appeared to be the very hobgoblin of the place. Yet this proved to be the great historic genius of the Hollow, abound- ing in that valuable information never to be acquired from books. Diedrich Knickerbocker soon discovered his merit. They had long talks together seated on a broken millstone, heedless of the water and the clatter of the mill ; and to his conference with that African sage many attribute the surprising, though true story, of Ichabod Crane and the Headless Horseman of Sleepy Hollow. We refrain, however, from giving farther researches of the historian of the Manhattoes during his sojourn at the Roost, but may return to them in future pages. Reader ! the Roost still exists. Time, which changes all things, is slow in its operations on a Dutchman's dwelling. The stout Jacob Van Tassel, it is true, sleeps with his fathers ; and his great goose-gun with him : yet his stronghold still bears the impress of its Dutch origin. Odd rumors have gathered about it, as they are apt to do about old mansions, like moss and weather-stains. The shade of Wol- fert Acker still walks his unquiet rounds at night in the orchard ; and a white figure has TIBlol(ert'0 Vooet 271 th flour grinned the very ed to be abound- jr to be srbocker ad long lillstone, r of the African though Headless refrain, ,es of the s sojourn in future le, which perations )ut Jacob 5 fathers ; : yet his its Dutch about it, ions, like e of Wol- rounds at figure has now and then been seen seated at a window and gazing at the moon, from a room in which a young lady is said to have died of love and green apples. Mementos of the sojourn of Diedrich Knick- erbocker are still cherished at the Roost. His elbow-chair and antique writing-desk maintain their place in the room he occupied, and his old cocked-hat still hangs on a peg against the wall. i' * m'v THE BIRDS OF SPRING. It?' <. MY quiet residence in the country, aloof from fashion, politics, and the money- market, leaves me rather at a loss for occupation, and drives me occasionally to the study of nature, and other low pursuits. Hav- ing few neighbors, also, on whom to keep a watch, and exercise my habits of observation, 1 am fain to amuse myself with prying into the domestic concerns and peculiarities of the ani- mals around me ; and during the present sea- son have derived considerable entertainment from certain sociable little birds, almost the only visitors we have during this early part of the year. Those who have passed the winter in the country are sensible of the delightful influences that accompany the earliest indications of spring ; and of these, none are more delightful 272 dbe Xix^e or Spring 273 than the first notes of the birds. There is one modest little sad-colored bird, much resembling a wren, which came about the house just on the skirts of winter, when not a blade of grass was to be seen, and when a few prematurely warm days had g^ven a flattering foretaste of soft weather. He sang early in the dawning, long before sunrise, and late in the evening, just before the closing in of night, his matin and his vesper hyms. It is true he sang occa- sionallythroughout the day ; but at these still hours his song was more remarked. He sat on a leafless tree, just before the window, and warbled forth his notes, few and simple, but singularly sweet, with something of a plaintive tone that heightened their effect. The first morning that he was heard was a joyous one among the young folks of my household. The long, death-like sleep of win- ter was at an end ; nature was once more awak- ening ; they now promised themselves the immediate appearance of buds and blossoms. I was reminded of the tempest-tossed crew of Columbus, when, after their long dubious voy- age, the field-birds came singing round the ship, though still far at sea, rejoicing them with the belief of the immediate proximity of land. A sharp return of winter almost silenced my little songster, and dashed the hilarity of VOL. II.— 18 ifi t ^( 274 Zbc JSir^d of Spring > I i . f i: fl: If ; II It ' i the household ; yet still he poured forth, now and then, a few plaintive notes, between the frosty pipings of the breeze, like gleams of sunshine between wintry clouds. I have consulted my book of ornithology in vain, to find out the name of this kindly little bird, who certainly deserves honor and favor far beyond his modest pretensions. He comes like the lowly violet, the most unpretending, but welcomest of flowers, breathing the sweet promise of the early 3'^ear. Another of our feathered visitors, who fol- low close upon the steps of winter, is the Pe- wit, or Pe-wee, or Phoebe-bird ; for he is called by each of these names, from a fancied resem- blance to the sound of his monotonous note. He is d sociable little being, and seeks the habitation of man. A pair of them have built beneath my porch, and have reared several broods there for two years past, — their nest being never disturbed. They arrive early in the spring, just when the crocus and the snow- drop begin to peep forth Their first chirp spreads gladness through the house. " The Phoebe-birds have come ! " is heard on all sides ; they are welcomed back like members of the family, and speculations are made upon where they have been, and what countries they have seen during their long absence. ;rbe JSicDd of Sprmg 375 h, now ien the ams of )logy in lly little id favor ;e comes tending, tie sweet who fol- ; the Pe- ls called id resem- )us note, eeks the ave built i several heir nest early in ;he snow- rst chirp ♦'The :d on all members lade upon countries absence. Their arrival is the more cheering, as it is pro- nounced by the old, weather-wise people of the country, the sure sign that the severe frosts are at an end, and that the gardener may resume his labors with confidence. About this time, too, arrives the blue-bird, so poetically yet truly described by Wilson. His appearance gladdens the whole landscape. You hear his soft warble in every field. He sociably approaches your liabitation, and takes up his residence in your vicinity. But why should I attempt to describe him, when I have Wilson's own graphic verses to place him before the reader ? " When winter's cold tempests and snows are no more, Green meadows and brown furrowed fields reap- pearing, The fishermen hauling their shad to the shore, And cloud-cleaving geese to the lakes are a-steering ; When first the lone butterfly flits on the wing. When red glow the maples, so fresh and so pie sing, O then comes the bluebird, the herald of spring, And hails with his warblings the charms of the season. " The loud-pipijg frogs make the marshes to ring, Then warm grows the sunshine, and warm grows the weather ; The blue woodland flowers just beginning to spring, And spice-wood and sassafras budding together ; I' 111 .1 I- r m 276 tibc JSirD0 of 5; ring b ii O then to your gardens, ye housewives, repair, Your walks border up, sow and plant at your leisure ; The bluebird will chant -- om -his box such an air, That all your hard toils will seem truly a pleasure ! •* He flits through the orchard, he visits each tree, TL. red flowering peach, and the apple's sweet blossom ! He suaps up destroyers, wherever they be. And eizes the caitiflFs that lurk in their bosoms ; He drags the vile grub from the com it devours. The worms from the webs where they riot and welter ; His song and his services freely are ours, And all that be asks is, in summer a shelter. " The ploughman is pleased when he gleans in his train. Now searching the furrows, now mounting to cheer him ; The gard'ner delights in his sweet simple strain. And leans on his spade to survey and to hear him. The slow, lingering schoolboys forget they '11 be chid, While gazing intent, as he warbles before them In mantle of sky-blue, and bosom so red, That each little loiterer seems to adore him." The happiest bird of our .spring, however, and one that rivals the Ivuropean lark, in my estimation, is the Bobolinf ohi, or Bobolink, as he is commonly called. He arrives at that choice period of our year, which, in this lati- tude, answers to the description of the month TTbe XixTi ot Spring 277 of May so often given by the poets. With us it begins about the middle of May, and lasts until nearly the middle of June. Earlier than this winter is apt to return on its traces, and to blight the opening beauties of the year ; and later than this begin the parching, and panting, and dissolving heats of summer. But in this genial interval, nature is in all her freshness and fragrance ; ' ' the rains are over and gone, the flowers appear upon the earth, the time of the singing of birds is come, and the voice of the turtle is heard in the land. ' ' The trees are now in their fullest foliage and brightest verdure ; the woods are gay with the clustered flowers of the laurel ; the air is perfumed by the sweetbrier and the wild rose ; the meadows are enamelled with clover-blos- soms ; while the young apple, the peach, and the plum, begin to swell, and the cherr^r to glow, among the green leaves. This is the chosen season of revelry of the Bobolink, He comes amidst the pomp and fragrance of the season ; his life seems all sensibility and enjoyment, all song and "Sun- shine. He is to be found in the soft bosoms of the freshest and sweetest meadows, and is most in song when the clover is in blossom. He perches on the topmost twig of a tree, or on some long, flaunting weed, and, as he rises ^11 il ... /1i Stirs :,,- i^u;.- 378 Xlbc JSfrD0 oi Spring and sinks with the breeze, pours forth a sticces- sion of rich tinkling notes, — crowding one upon another, like the outpouring melody of the skylark, and possessing the same rapturous character. Sometimes he pitches from the summit of a tree, begins his song as soon as he gets upon the wing, and flutters tremulously down to the earth, as if overcome with ecstasy at his own music. Sometimes he is in pursuit of ]u^ paramour ; always in full song, as if he rA^ould win her by his melody ; and always with ii*e same appearance of intoxication and delight. Of a 1 the birds of our groves and meadows, the Bobolink was the envy of my boyhood. He crossed my path in the sweetest weather, and the sweetest season of the year, when all nature called to the fields, and the rural feeling throbbed in every bosom ; but when I, luck- less urchin ! was doomed to be mewed up, during the livelong day, in that purgatory of boyhood, a school-room. It seemed as if the little varlet mocked at me as he flew by in full song, and sought to taunt me with his happier lot. Oh, how I envied him ! No lessons, no task, no hateful school ; nothmg bat holiday frolic, green fields, and fine weather. Had I been then more versed in poetry, I might have addressed him in the words of I^ogan to the cuckoo, — L. .'H'i (Tbe J8tr2>0 ot Spring 279 a succes- ling one lelody of rapturous from the s soon as mulously h ecstasy in pursuit r, as if he ways with id delight, meadows, boyhood. ; weather, , when all al feeling |n I, luck- ewed up, •gatory of as if the bj in full |is happier issons, no t holiday Had I ight have Ian to the " Sweet bird ! thy bower is ever green, Thy sky is ever clear ; Thou bast no sorrow in thy note, No winter in thy year. " Oh I could I fly, I 'd fly -with thee; We 'd make, on joyful wing, Our annual visit round the globe, Companions of the spring ! " Further observation and experience have given me a different idea of this little feathered voluptuary, which I will venture to impart, for the benefit of my schoolboy readers, who may regard him with the same unqualified envy and admiration which I once indulged. I have shown him, only as I saw him at first, in what I may call the poetical part of his career, when he in a manner devoted himself to eleganc pursuith and enjoyments, and was a bird of music, and song, and taste, and ensibility, and refinement. While this lasted, he was sacred from injury ; the very schoolboy would not fling a stone at him, and tlie merest rustic would pause to listen to his strain. But mark the difference. As the year advances, as the clover- blossoms disappear, and the spring fades into summer, he gradually gives up his elegant tastes and habits, doffs his poetical suit of black, assumes a russet dusty garb, and sinks to the gross enjoyments of common vulgar if ti III ;*' ii] ii:" K H':' 280 (Tbe 36ird0 of Spring birds. His notes no longer vibrate on the ear ; he is stuffing himstilf with the seeds of the tall weeds on which he lately swung and chanted so melodiously. He has become a don vivani^ a gourmand ; wfth him now there is nothing like the "joys of the table." In a little while he grows tired of plain, homely fare, and is off on a gastronomical tour in quest of foreign luxuries. We next hear of him, with myriads of this kind, banqueting among the reeds of the Delaware ; and grown corpulent with good feeding. He has changed his name in travelling. Bobohncoln no more, — he is the Reed-bird now, the much-sought-for tidbit of Pennsylvania epicures ; the rival in unlucky fame of the ortolan ! Wherever he goes, pop ! pop ! pop ! every rusty firelock in the country is blazing away. He sees his companions fall- ing by thousands around him. Does he take warning and reform? Alas, not he ! Incorrigible epicure ! again he wings his flight. The rice-swamps of the South invite him. He gorges himself among them almost to bursting ; he can scarcely fly for corpulency. He has once more changed his name, and is now the famous Rice-bird of the Carolinas. Last stage of his career ; behold him spitted, with dozens of his corpulent companions, and Ci}6 Xitbe of Qpting 281 served up, a vaunted dish, on the table of some Southern gastronome. Such is the story of the Bobolink ; once spiritual, musical, admired ; the joy of the meadows, and the favorite bird of Spring ; finally, a gross little sensualist, who expiates his sensuality in the larder. His story contains a moral worthy the attention of all little birds and little boys ; warning them to keep to those refined and intellectual pursuits which raised him to so high a pitch of popularity during the early part of his career ; but to eschew all tendency to that gross and dissipated indul- gence which brought this mistaken little bird to an untimely end. Which is all, at present, from the well-wisher of little boys and little birds, Geoffrey Crayon, Gent. -<^> ^■>\ u 1, 'i 1 ' i i !■;■ 1 1 1 ) ^^H| THE CREOLE VILLAGE. A SKETCH FROM A STEAMBOAT. [First published in 1837,] IN travelling about our motley country, I am often reminded of Ariosto's account of the moon, in which the good paladin Astolpho found everything garnered up that had been lost on earth. So 1 am apt to imagine that many things lost in the Old World are treas- ured up in the New; having been handed down from generation to generation, since the early days of the colonies. A European anti- quary, therefore, curious in his researches after the ancient and almost obliterated customs and usages of his country, would do well to put himself upon the track of some early band of emigrants, follow them across the Atlantic, and rummage among their descendants on our shores. a8a Cbe Creole X^iiia^c 283 ^^ ^GE \.T. ntry, I am lunt of the Astolpho had been igine that are treas- handed since the lean anti- •ches after customs o well to |arly band Atlantic, ,ts on our In the phraseology of New Ktiglaiid nii.;ht be found many an old English provincial phrase long sinct obsolete in the parent country, wiih some quaint relics of the Roundheads ; while Virginia cherishes peculiarities characteristic of the days of Khzabeth and Sir ''alter Raleigh. In the same way, the sturdy yeo f New Jersey and Pennsylvania keep u^v lUc.iiy usages fading away in ancient Germany ; while many an honest, broad bottomed custom, nearly extinct in venerable Holland, may be found flourishing in pristine vigor and luxuriance in Dutch villages, on the banks of the Mohawk and the Hudson. In no part of our country, however, are the customs and peculiarities imported from the Old World by the earlier settlers kept up with more fidelity than in the little, poverty-stricken villages of Spanish and French origin, which border the rivers of ancient Louisiana. Their population is generally made up of the descend- ants of those nations, married and interwoven together, and occasionally crossed with a slight dash of the Indian. The French character, however, floats on top, as, from its buoyant qualities, it is sure to do, whenever it forms a particle, however small, of an intermixture. In these serene and dilapidated villages, art y, lit ■ ■itim 1 'm I '•'II : tl Ml ■Kl Mm (U ; ■m; IMAGE EVALUATION TEST TARGET (MT-3) 1.0 I.I 1^128 |25 ■JO "^^ MIB ■^ Uii 12.2 [!? Hi "" i« 12.0 ■u u 111 1125 i 1.4 I IJ4 ^ Photographic Sciences Corporation 23 WIST MAIN STRUT WiBSTIR,N.Y. 14580 (716)t72-4S0a ► ^% eyond its )erplexity In fact, these vil- language, y of opin- rs. They of passive nment, as olute sway being part nd having VT. gray on e good old way in all ort ; their and their none of ►r improve- inually on incessantly the magic phrases, "town lots," "water privileges," "railroads," and other comprehensive and soul-stirring words from the speculator's vo- cabulary, are never heard. The residents dwell in the houses built by their forefathers, without thinking of enlarging or modernizing them, or pulling them down and turning them into granite stores. The tre^s under which they have been born, and have played in in- fancy, flourish undisturbed ; though, by cut- ting them down, they might open new streets, and put money in their pockets. In a word, the almighty dollar, that great object of uni- versal devotion throughout our land, seems to have no genuine devotees in these peculiar villages ; and unless some of its missionaries penetrate there, and erect banking-houses and other pious shrines, there is no knowing how long the inhabitants may remain in their pres- ent state of contented poverty. In descending one of our great western rivers in a steamboat^ I met with two worthies from one of these villages, who had been on a dis- tant excursion, the longest they had ever made, as they seldom ventured far from home. One was the great man, or Grand Seigneur of th2 villa'ge; not that he enjoyed any legal privi- leges or power there, everything of the kind having been done away when the province was >fi\ 386 Zbc Creole VilUiQe ; ! P ( ceded by France to the United States. His sway over his neighbors was merely one of custom and convention, out of deference to his family. Beside, he was worth full fifty thou- sand dollars, an amount almost equal, in the imaginations of the villagers, to the treasures of King Solomon. This very substantial old gentleman, though of the fourth or fifth generation in this coun- try, retained the true Gallic feature and de- portment, and reminded me of one of those provincial potentates that are to be met with in tiie remote parts of France. He was of a large frame, a ginger-bread complexion, strong features, eyes that stood out like glass knobs, and a prominent nose, which he frequently re- galed from a gold snuff-box, and occasionally blew with a colored handkerchief, until it sounded like a trumpet. He was attended by an old negro i black as ebony, with a huge mouth, in a continual grin ; evidently a privileged 5.id favorite ser- vant, who had grown up and grown old with him. He was dressed in Creole style, with white jacket and trousers, a stiff shirt-collar, that threatened to cut off his ears, a bright Madras handkerchief tied round his headf and large gold ear-rings. He was the politest ne- gro I met with in a western tour, and that is (Tbe Creole X>i\\nQC 287 es. His r one of ice to his ifty thou- il, in the treasures n, though this coun- e and de- ; of those met with was of a ion, strong lass knobs, quently re- ccasionally f, until it ti i black continual Lvorite ser- 11 old with |style, with ihirt-coUar, ^s, a bright headt and [politest ne- Lnd that is saying a great deal, for, excepting the Indians, the negroes are the most gentlemanlike person- ages to be met with in those parts. It is true they differ from the Indians in being a little extra polite and complimentary. He was also one of the merriest ; and here, too, the negroes, however we may deplore their unhappy condi- tion, have the advantage of their masters. The whites are, in general, too free and prosperous to be merry. The cares of maintaining their rights and liberties, adding to their wealth, and making presidents engross all their thoughts and dry up all the moisture of their souls. If you hear a broad, hearty, devil-may- care laugh, be assured it is a negro's. Besides this African domestic, the seigneur of the village had another no less cherished and privileged attendant. This was a huge dog, of the mastiff breed, with a deep, hanging mouth, and a look of surly gravity. He walked about the cabin with the air of a dog perfectly at home, and who had paid for his passage. At dinner-time he took his seat be- side his master, giving him a glance now and then out of a comer of his eye, which bespoke perfect confidence that he would not be for- gotten. Nor was he. Every now and then a huge morsel would be thrown to him, perad- venture the half-picked leg of a fowl, which 388 Cbe Creole IDfllage he would receive with a snap like the spring- ing of a steel trap, — one gulp, and all was down ; and a glance of the eye told his master that he was ready for another consignment. The other village worthy, travelling in com- pany with the seigneur, was of a totally differ- ent stamp. Small, thin, and weazen-faced, as Frenchmen are apt to be repres€fnted in carica- ture, with a bright, squirrel-like eye, and a gold ring in his ear. His dress was flims)% and sat loosely on his frame, and he had alto- gether the look of one with but little coin in his pocket. Yet, though one of the poorest, I was assured he was one of the merriest and most popular personages in his native village. Compare Martin, as he was commonly called, was the factotum of the place — sportsman, schoolmaster, and land-surveyor. He could sing, dance, and above all, play on the fiddle, an invaluable accomplishment in an old French Creole village, for the inhabitants have a heredi- tary love for balls and fetes. If they work but little, they dance a great deal. ; and a fiddle is the joy of their heart. What had sent Compare Martin travelling with the Grand Seigneur I could not learn. He evidently looked up to him with great deference, and was assiduous in rendering him petty attentions ; from which I concluded that dbe Creole Village 389 he lived at home upon the crumbs which fell from his table. He was gayest when out of his sight, and had his song and his joke when forward among the deck passengers ; but, altogether, Compare Martin was out of his ele- ment on board of a steamboat. He was quite another being, I am told, when at home in his own village. Like his opulent fellow-traveller, he too had his canine follower and retainer, — and one suited to his different fortunes, — one of the civil- est, most unoffending little dogs in the world. Unlike the lordly mastiff, he seemed to think he had no right on board of the steamboat ; if you did but look hard at him, he would throw himself upon his back, and lift up his legs, as if imploring mercy. At table he took his seat a little distance from his master ; not with the bluff, confident air of the mastiff, but quietly and diffidently ; his head on one side, with one ear dubiously slouched, the other hope- fully cocked up ; his under-teeih projecting beyond his black nose, and his eye wistfully following each morsel that went into his master's mouth. If Compare Martin now and then should venture to abstract a morsel from his plate, to give to his humble companion, it was edifying to see with what diffidence the exemplary VOL. U.— 19 290 Zbe Creole Villn^c m little animal would take held of it, with the very tip of his teeth, as if he would almost rather not, or was fearful of taking too great a liberty. And then with what decorum would he eat it ! How many efforts would he make in swallowing it, as if it stuck in his throat ; with what daintiness would he lick his lips ; and then with what an air of thankfulness would he resume his seat, with his teeth once more projecting beyond his nose, and an eye of humble expectation fixed upon his master. It was late in the afternoon when the steam- boat stopped at the village which was the residence of these worthies. It stood on the high bank of the river, and bore traces of having been a frontier trading-post. There were the remains of stockades that once pro- tected it from the Indians, and the houses were in the ancient Spanish and French colonial taste, the place having been successively under the domination of both those nations prior to the cession of Louisiana to the United States. The arrival of the seigneur of fifty thousand dollars, and his humble companion. Compare Martin, had evidently been looked forward to as an event in the village. Numbers of men, women, and children, white, yellow, and black, were collected on the river bank ; most of them clad in old-fashioned French garments. Zbc Creole DtUage 391 ith the almost ►o great 1 would le make throat ; lis lips ; k fulness eth once I an eye i master. ,e steam- was the i on the traces of There ►nee pro- ses were colonial ily under prior to id States, jthousand Compare >rward to of men, ►w, and ik ; most arments. and their heads decorated with colored hand- kerchiefs, or white nightcaps. The moment the steamboat came within sight and hearing, there was a waving of handkerchiefs, and a screaming and bawling of salutations and felicitations, that bafRe all description. The old gentleman of fifty thousand dollars was received by a train of relatives, and friends, and children, and grandchildren, whom he kissed on each cheek, and .who formed a pro- cession in his rear, with a legion of domestics, of all ages, following him to a large, old- fashioned French house, that domineered over the village. His black valef de chambre^ in white jacket and trousers, and gold ear-rings, was met on the shore by a boon, though rustic companion, a tall negro fellow, with a long good-humored face, and the profile of a horse, which stoor? out from beneath a narrow-rimmed straw hat, stuck on the back of his head. The ex- plosions of laughter of these two varlets on meeting and exchanging compliments, were enough to electrify the country round. The most hearty reception, however, was that given to Compare Martin. Everybody, young and old, hailed him before he got to land. Everybody' had a joke for Compare Martin, and Compare Martin had a joke for 293 Zbe Creole tt)fUa0e .*r ■)• :ii I ' I'. Py f J ' i ii : !■ everybody. Even his little dog appeared to partake of his popularity, and to be caressed by every hand. Indeed, he was quite a dif- ferent animal the moment he touched the land. Here he was at home ; here he was of consequence. He barked, he leaped, he frisked about his old friends, and then would skim round the place in a wide circle, as if mad. I traced Compare Martin and his little dog to their home. It was an old ruinous Spanish house, of large dimensions, with verandas overshadowed by ancient elms. The house had probably been the residence, in old times, of the Spanish commandant. In one wing of this crazy, but aristocratical abode, was nestled the family of my fellow-traveller; for poor devils are apt to be magnificently clad and lodged, in the cast-off clothes and abandoned palaces of the great and wealthy. The arrival of Compare Martin was wel- comed by a legion of women, children, and mongrel curs ; and, as poverty and gayety generally go band-in-hand among the French and their descendants, the crazy mansion soon resounded with loud gossip and hght-hearted laughter. As the steamboat paused a short time at the village, I took occasion to stroll about the place. eared to caressed te a dif- ched the I he was aped, he en would :le, as if little dog J Spanish verandas he house old times, e wing of as nestled for poor clad and abandoned was wel- |dren, and id gayety le French ision soon it-hearted lime at the the place. Zbc Creole V^llla^e 293 Most of the houses were in the French taste, with casements and rickety verandas, but most of them in flimsy and ruinous condition. All the wagons, ploughs, and other utensils about the place were of ancient and inconvenient Gallic construction, such as had been brought from France in the primitive days of the colony. The very looks of the people reminded me of the villages of France. From one of the houses came the hum of a spinning-wheel, accompanied by a scrap of an old French chanson, which I have heard many a time among the peasantry of Languedoc, doubtless a traditional song, brought over by the first French emigrants, and handed down from generation to generation. Half a dozen young lasses emerged from the adjacent dwellings, reminding me, by their light step and gay costume, of scenes in ancient France, where taste in dress comes natural to every class of females. The trim bodice and colored petticoat, and lUtle apron, with its pockets to receive the hands when in an atti- tude for conversation ; the colored kerchief wound tastefully round the head, with a co- quettish knot perking above one ear ; and the neat slipper and tight-drawn stocking, with its braid of narrow ribbon embracing the ankle wb^r^ it peeps from its mysterious curtain. It ' I : I I •I • ■) '1: "I Mm % m t.¥Sft |'A| 1 1 [i 1 3 H In fli .1 394 Cbc Creole Village / . I ■U' is from this ambush that Cupid sends his most inciting arrows. While I was musing upon the recollections thus accidentally summoned up, I heard the sound of a fiddle from the mansion of Compare Martin, the signal, no doubt, for a joyous gath- ering. I was disposed to turn my steps thither, and witness the festivities of one of the very few villages I had met with in my wide tour that was yet poor enough to be merry ; but the bell of the steamboat summoned me to re-embark. As we swept away from the shore, I cast back a wistful eye upon the moss-grown roofs and ancient elms of the village, and prayed that the inhabitants might long retain their happy ignorance, their absence of all enterprise and improvement, their respect for the fiddle, and their contempt for the almighty dollar.* I fear, however, my prayer is doomed to be of no avail. In a little while the steamboat whirled nie to an American town, just springing into bustling and prosperous existence. * This phrase, used for the first time in this sketch, has since passed into current circulation, and by some has been questioned as savoring of irreverence. The author, therefore, owes it to his orthodoxy to declare th^t no irreverence was intended even to the dollar itself; which he is aware is daily becoming more and more an object of worship. (Cbe Creole V(Ua0e 895 The surrounding forest had been laM out in town lots ; frames of wooden buildings were rising from among stumps and burnt trees. The place already boasted a court-house, a jail, and two banks, all built of pitie boards, on the model of Grecian temples. There were rival hotels, rival churches, and rival newspapers ; together with the usual number of judges and generals and governors ; not to speak of doc- tors by the dozen, and lawyers by the score. The place, I was told, was in an astonishing career of improvement, with a canal and two railroads in embryo. Lots doubled in price every week ; everybody was speculating in land ; everybody was rich ; and everybody was growing richer. The community, however, was torn to pieces by new doctrines in religion and in political economy ; there were camp- meetings, and agrarian meetings ; and an election was at hand, which, it was ex- pected, would throw the whole country into a paroxysm. Alas ! with such an enterprising neighbor, what is to become of the poor little Creole village ! i rii ••'It J ii ^'m m M Si ilKfti.'.i MOUNTJOY ; OR, SOME PASSAGES OUT OP* THE WPB OF A CASTI,E-BUII*DER. ' tt ; 1WAS bom among romantic scenery, in one of the wildest parts of the Hudson, which at that time was not so thickly settled as at present. My father was descended from one of the old Huguenot families, that came over to this country on the revocation of the Edict of Nantz. He lived in a style of easy, rural independence, on a patrimonial estate that had been for two or three generations in the family. He was an indolent, good-natured man, took the world as it went, and had a kind of laugh- ing philosophy, that parried all rubs and mis- haps, and served him in the place of wisdom. This was the part of his character least to my taste ; for I was of an enthusiastic, excitable 396 Aountjoj? 297 IFK Olf A iry, in one «)n, which settled as d from one came over the Edict asy, rural ;e that had :he family. man, took of laugh- is and mis- »f wisdom. Ileast to my excitable temperament, prone to kindle up with new schemes and projects, and he was apt to dash my sallying enthusiasm by some unlucky joke ; so that whenever I was in a glow with any sudden excitement, I stood in mortal dread of his good humor. Yet he indulged me in every vagary, for I was an only son, and of course a personage of importance in the household. I had two sis- ters older than myself, and one younger. The former were educated at New York, under the eye of a maiden aunt ; the latter remained at home, and was my cherished playmate, the companion of my thoughts. We were two im- aginative little beings, of quick susceptibility, and prone to see wonders and mysteries in everything around us. Scarce had we learned to read, when our mother made us holiday presents of all the nursery literature of the day, which at that time consisted of little books cov- ered with gilt paper, adorned with ** cuts," and filled with tales of fairies, giants, and enchan- ters. What draughts of delightful fiction did we then inhale ! My sister Sophy was of a soft and tender nature. She would weep over the woes of the Children in the Wood, or quake at the dark romance of Blue-Beard, and the terri- ble mysteries of the blue chamber. But I was all for enterprise and adventure. I burned to f: si 111 398 Aountjofi i*i ' emulate the deeds of that heroic prince who dehvered the white cat from her enchantment ; or he of no less royal blood and doughty em- prise, who broke the charmed slumber of the Beauty in the Wood ! The house in which we lived was just the kind of place to foster such propensities. It was a venerable mansion, half villa, half farm- house. The oldest part was of stone, with loopholes for musketry, having served as a family fortress in the time of the Indians. To this there had been made various additions, some of brick, some of wood, according to the exigencies of the moment ; so that it was full of nooks and crooks, and chambers of all sorts and sizes. It was buried among willows, elms, and cherry-trees, and surrounded with roses and hollyhocks, with honeysuckle and sweet- brier clambering about every window. A brood of hereditary pigeoris sunned themselves upon the roof ; hereditary swallows and martins built about the eaves and chimneys ; and hereditary bees hummed about the flower-beds. Under the influence of our story-books every object around us now assumed a new character, and a charmed interest. The wild flowers were no longer the mere ornaments of the fields, or the resorts of the toilful bee ; they were the lurking-places of fairies. We would watch the 'Aountjois 299 nee who Liitment ; ^hty em- er of the , just the iities. It lalf farm- jiie, with ved as a ians. To additions, ling to the it was full of all sorts lows, elms, with roses ind sweet- A brood elves upon irtins built hereditary ooks every character, [Id flowers the fields, [y were the watch the humming-bird, as it hovered around the trum- pet-creeper at our porch, and the butterfly as it flitted up into the blue air, above the sunny tree-tops, and fancy them some of the tiny beings from fairy land. I would call to mind all that I had read of Robin Goodfellow, and his power of transformation. Oh, how I envied him that power ! How I longed to be able to compress my form into utter littleness, to ride the bold dragon-fly, swinging on the tall bearded grass, follow the ant into his subter- raneous habitation, or dive into the cavernous depths of the honeysuckle ! While I was yet a mere child, I was sent to a daily school, about two miles distant. The schoolhouse was on the edge of a wood, close by a brook overhung with birches, alders, and dwarf- willows. We of the school who lived at some distance came with our dinners put up in little baskets. In the intervals of school hours, we would gather round a spring, under a tuft of hazel-bushes, and have a kind of picnic ; in- terchanging the rustic dainties with which our provident mothers had fitted us out. Then, when our joyous repast was over, and my com- panions were disposed for play, I would draw forth one of my cherished story-books, stretch myself on the greensward, and soon lose my- self in its bewitching contents. '« : i ^"Si^ 300 Aountjoi; ;i!'. ■':: Mi Mr , '■ :hV' |. I I !;i i I became an oracle among my schoolmates, on account of my superior erudition, and soon imparted to them the contagion of my infected fancy. Often in the evening, after school hours, we would sit on the trunk of some fallen tree in the woods, and vie with each other in telling extravagant stories, until the whip- poor-will began his nightly moaning, and the fire-flies sparkled in the gloom. Then came the perilous journey homeward. What delight we would take in getting up wanton panics, in some dusky part of the wood ; scampering like frightened deer, pausing to take breath, renew- ing the panic, and scampering off again, wild with fictitious terror ! Our greatest trial was to pass a dark, lonely pool, covered with pond-lilies, peopled with bull-frogs and water-snakes, and haunted by two white cranes. Oh ! the terrors of that pond ! How our little hearts would beat, as we approached it ; what fearful glances we would throw around ! And if by chance a plash of a wild duck, or the guttural twang of a bull-frog, struck our ears as we stole quietly by — away we sped, nor paused until completely out of the woods. Then, when I reached home, what a world of adventures and imagi- nary terrors would I have to relate to my sister Sophy I Aountjoi; 301 As I advanced in years, this turn of mind in- creased upon tae, and became more confirmed. I abandoned myself to the impulses of a roman- tic imagination, which controlled my studies, and gave a bias to all my habits. My father observed me continually with a book in my hand, and satisfied himself that I was a pro- found student ; but what were my studies ? Works of fiction, tales of chivalry, voyages of discovery, travels in the East ; everything, in short, that partook of adventure and romance. I well remember with what zest I entered upon that part of my studies which treated of the heathen mythology, and particularly of the sylvan deities. Then indeed my school-books became dear to me. The neighborhood was well calculated to foster the reveries of a mind like mine. It abounded with solitary retreats, wild streams, solemn forests, and silent valleys. I would ramble about for a whole day, with a volume of Ovid's Metamorphoses in my pocket, and work myself into a kind of self-delusion, so as to identify the surrounding scenes with those of which I had just been reading. I would loiter about a brook that glided through the shadowy depths of the forest, picturing it to myself the haunt of Naiades. I would steal round some bushy copse that opened upon a glade, as if I expected to come suddenly upon ■-*■ I i m E! 302 Aountjoi? I 711. i-i i it Diana and her nymphs ; or to behold Pan and his satyrs bounding, with whoop and halloo, through the woodland. I would throw my- self, during the panting heats of a summer noon, under the shade of some widespreading tree, and muse and dream away the hours, in a state of mental intoxication. I drank in the very light of day, as nectar, and my soul seemed to bathe with ecstasy in the deep blue of a summer sky. In these wanderings nothing occurred to jar my feelings, or bring me back to the realities of life. There is a repose in our mighty for- ests that gives full scope to the imagination. Now and then I would hear the distant sound of the wood-cutter's axe, or the crash of some tree which he had laid low ; but these noises, echoing along the quiet landscape, could easily be wrought by fancy into harmony with its illusions. In general, however, the woody re- cesses of the neighborhood were peculiarly wild and unfrequented. I could ramble for a whole day, without coming upon any traces of cul- tivation. The partridge of the wood scarcely seemed to shun my path, and the squirrel, from his nut-tree, would gaze at me for an instant, with sparkling eye, as if wondering at the un- wonted intrusion. ' I cannot help dwelling on this delicious pe-r Aountjoi? 303 Pan and I halloo, row uiy- summer preading hours, in nk in the al seemed blue of a red to jar e realities Lighty for- agination. tant sound h of some se noises, ,uld easily with its woody re- iliarly wild ■or a whole Ices of cul- »d scarcely [irrel, from in instant, at the un- jlicious pe^ riod of my life ; when as yet I had known no sorrow, nor experienced any worldly care. I have since studied much, both of books and men, and of course have grown too wise to be so easily pleased ; yet with all my wisdom, I must confess I look back with a secret feeling of regret to the days of happy ignorance, before I had begun to be a philosopher. It must be evident that I was in a hopeful training, for one who was to descend into the arena of life, and wrestle with the w^orld. The tutor, also, who superintended my studies, in the more advanced stage of my education, was just fitted to complete the/a/a morgana which was forming in my mind. His name was Glencoe. He was a pale, melancholy-looking man, about forty years of age ; a native of Scotland, liberally educated, and who had de- voted himself to the instruction of youth, from taste rather than necessity ; for, as he said, he loved the human heart, and delighted to study it in its earlier impulses. My two elder sisters, having returned home from a city boarding-school, were likewise placed under his care, to direct their reading in history and belles-lettres. We all soon became attached to Glencoe. It is true we were at first somewhat prepos- sessed against him. His meagre, pallid counte- I; \ ii !,>i n if 3F :;?' a I '-;■!. ■% 304 Aountjois ■'i-i W m :, t. r ;i HI!' V.t^- I ' nance, his broad pronunciation, his inattention to the little forms of society, and an awkward and embarrassed manner, on first acquaintance, were much against him ; but we soon discov- ered that under this unpromising exterior existed the kindest urbanity, the warmest sympathies, the most enthusiastic benevolence. His mind was ingenious and acute. His read- ing had been various, but more abstruse than profound ; his memory was stored, on all sub- jects, with facts, theories, and quotations, and crowded with crude materials for thinking. These, in a moment of excitement, would be, as it were, melted down and poured forth in the lava of a heated imagination. At sucfi moments, the change in the whole man was wonderful. His meagre form would acquire a dignity and grace ; his long, pale visage would flash with a hectic glow ; his eyes would beam with intense speculation ; and there would be pathetic tones and deep modulation is in his voice, that delighted the ear, and spoke movingly to the heart. But what most endeared him to us, was- the kindness and sympathy with which he entered into all our interests and wishes. Instead of curbing and checking our young imaginations with the reins of sober reason, he was a little too apt to catch the impulse, and be hurried |m fek: fij attention awkward aintance, m discov- exterior wannest levolence. His read- truse than )n all sub- itions, and , thinking, would be, id forth in At sucli i man was lid acquire )ale visage eyes would and thert: nodulation-^ and spoke us, was- the he entered Instead of laginations Iwas a little be hurried Aountjoi? 305 away with us. He could not withstand the excitement of any sally of feeling or fancy, and Was prone to lend heightening tints to the illu- sive coloring of youthful anticipation. Under his guidance my sisters and myself soon entered upon a more extended range of studies ; but while they wandered, with de- lighted minds, through the wide field of history and belles-lettres, a nobler walk was opened to my superior intellect. The mind of Glencoe presented a singular mixture of philosophy and poetry. He was fond of metaphysics, and prdne to indulge in abstract speculations, though his metaphysics were somewhat fine-spun and fanciful, and his speculations were apt to partake of what my father most irreverently termed ' ' humbug. ' ' For my part, I delighted in them, and the more especially because they set my father to sleep, and completely confounded my sisters. I entered, with my accustomed eagerness, into this new branch of study. Metaphysics w^ere now my passion. My sisters attempted to ac- company me, but they soon faltered, and gave out before they had got half way through Smith's Theory of Moral Sentiments, I, how- ever, went on, exulting in my strength. Glencoe supplied me with books, and I de- voured them with appetite, if not digestion. *; 'hI i'l ii VOL. II. — ao 3o6 Aouiitjoc ii I iW We walked and talked, together under the trees before the house, or sat apart, like Milton's angels, and held high converse upon the themes beyond the grasp of the ordinary intellects. Glencoe possessed a kind of philosophic chiv- alry, in imitation of the old peripatetic sages, and was continually dreaming of romantic enterprises in morals, and splendid systems for the improvement of society. He had a fanciful mode of illustrating abstract subjects, peculiarly to my taste ; clothing them with the language of poetry, and throwing round them almost the magic hues of fiction. "How charming," thought I, "is divine philosophy " ; " Not harsh and crabbed, as dull fools suppose, But musical as is Apollo's lute ; And a perpetual feast of nectar'd sweets, Where no crude surfeit reigns." I felt a wonderful self-complacency at being on such excellent terms with a man whom I considered on a parallel with the sages of an- tiquity, and looked down with a sentiment of pity on the feebler intellects of my sisters, who could comprehend nothing of metaphysics. It is true, when I attempted to study them by myself I was apt to get in a fog ; but when Glencoe came to my aid, everything was soon Aountjoi? 307 the trees Milton's e themes ntellects. hie chiv- tic sages, romantic stems for a fanciful )eculiarly language ilmost the larming," suppose. :ets, at being whom I res of an- [timent of iters, who |taphysics. them by |but when was soon as clear to me as day. My ear drank in the beauty of his words ; my imagination was daz- zled with the splendor of his illustrations. It caught up the sparkling sands of poetry that glittered through his speculations, and mistook them for the golden ore of wisdom. Struck with the facility with which I seeemed to im- bibe and relish the most abstract doctrines, I conceived a still higher opinion of my mental powers, and was convinced that I also was a philosopher. . I was now verging toward man's estate, and though my education had been extremely ir- regular, — following the caprices of my humor, which I mistook for the impulses of my genius, — yet I was regarded with wonder and delight by my mother and sisters, who considered me almost as wise and infallible as I considered myself. This high opinion of me was strength- ened by a declamatory habit, which made me an oracle and orator at the domestic board. The time was now at hand, however, that was to put my philosophy to the test. We had passed through a long winter, and the spring at length opened upon us, with un- usual sweetness. The soft serenity of the weather, the beauty of the surrounding coun- try, the joyous notes of the birds, the balmy breath of flower and blossom, all combined to I. \ V i: m m m 1 w. : fi, %1 Mi •II ll h i in-' i - i ^i . ;• 1 li'- W' J I I 308 Aountjov nil my bosom with indistinct sensations and nameless wishes. Amid the soft seductions of the season I lapsed into a state of utter indo- lence, both of body and mind. Philosophy had lost its charms for me. Metaphysics — faugh ! I tried to study ; took down volume after vol- ume, ran my eye vacantly over a few pages, and threw them by with distaste. I loitered about the house, with my hands in my pockets, and an air of complete vacancy. Something was necessary to make me happy ; but what was that something ? I sauntered to the apart- ments of my sisters, hoping their conversation might amuse me. They had walked out, and the room was vacant. On the table lay a vol- ume which they had been reading. It was a novel. I had never read a novel, having con- ceived a contempt for works of the kind, from hearing them universally condemned. It is true, I had remarked they were universally read ; but I considered them beneath the at- t ntion of a philosopher, and never would ven- ture to read them, less I should lessen my mental superiority in the eyes of mv sisters. Nay, I had taken up a ^ork of the hixid. n-^w and then, when I knew my sisters were ob- servin^f me, looked into it for a moment, and then laid it down, with a slight supercilious smile. On the present occasion, out of mere Aountjos 309 list^ ssness, I took up the vol time, and turned over a few of the first pa^^es. I thought I heard some one coming, and hurl it down. I was mistaken ; no one was near, and what I had read, tempted my curiosity to read a lit- tle farther. I leaned against a windc v-fran e, and in a few minutes was completely lost in the btor\'. How long I stood there reading I know nol, but I believe for nearly two hours. Suddenly I heard my sisters on the sta -s, when* I thrust the book into my bosom, and the two other volumes, which lay near, into my pockets, and hurried out of the house to my beloved woods. Here I remained all day beneath the trees, bewildered, bewitched ; de- vouring the contents of these delicious volumes ; and only returned to the house when it was too dark to peruse their pages. This novel finished, I replaced it in my sisters* apartment, and looked for others. Their stock was ample, for they had brought home all that were current in the city ; but my appe- tite demanded an immense supply. All this course of reading was carried on clandestinely, for I was a little ashamed of it, and fearful that my wisdom might be called in question ; but this very privacy gave it additional zest. It was "bread eaten in secret " ; it had the charm of a private amour. I % -■i; ^ ■ '•t }!\l ■ 'i h^^ "•»• 310 Aountjos I ! But think what must have been the effect of such a course of reading on a youth of my temperament and turn of mind ; indulged, too, amidst romantic scenery, and in the romantic season of the year. It seemed as if I had entered upon a 1? .; V scene of existence. A train of combustible feelings were lighted up in me, and my soul was all tenderness and passion. Never was youth more completely love-sick, though as yet it was a mere general sentiment, and wanted a definite object. Unfortunately, our neighborhood was particularly deficient in female society, and I languished in vain for some divinity, to whom I might offer up this most uneasy burden of affections. I was at one time seriously enamoured of a lady whom I saw occasionally hi my rides reading at the window of a country-seat, and actually sere- naded her with my flute ; when, to my confu- sion, I discovered that she was old enough to be my mother. It was a sad damper to my . romance ; especially as my father heard of it, and made it the subject of one of those house- hold jokes, whict he was apt to serve up at every meal- time. /> I soon recovered from this check, however, .f but it was only to relapse into a state of amor- ous excitement. I passed whole days in the fields, and along the brooks ; for there is spn*^- 'ir r .- Aountjos 3" vhing in the tender passion that makes us alive to the beauties of Nature. A soft sunshine morning infused a sort of rapture into my breast ; I flung open my arms, like the Grecian youth in Ovid, as if I would take in and em- brace the balmy atmosphere.* The song of the birds melted me to tenderness. I would lie by the side of some rivulet for hours, and form garlands of the flowers on its banks, and muse on ideal beauties, and sigh from the crowd of undefined emotions that swelled my bosom. In this state of amorous delirium, I was strolling one morning along a beautiful wild brook which I had discovered in a glen. There was one place where a small waterfall, leaping from among rocks into a natural basin, made a scene such as a poet might have chosen as the haunt of some shy Naiad. It was here I usuall/ retired to banquet on my novels. In visiting the place this morning, I traced dis- tinctly, on the margin of the basin, which was of fine clear sand, the prints of a female foot, of the most slender and delicate propor- tions. This was sufficient for an imagination like mine. Robinson Crusoe himself, when he discovered the print of a savage foot on the beach of his lonely island, could not have been * Ovid's Metamorphoses^ Book vU. n P I*' 11^ I. II 312 AountJoiS I. ■ I t \ M' ■ more suddenly assailed with thick-coming fancies. I endeavored to track the steps, but they only passed for a few paces along the fine sand, and then were lost among the herbage. I remained gazing in reverie upon this passing trace of loveliness. It evidently was not made by any of my sisters, for they knew nothing of this haunt ; besides, the foot was smaller than theirs ; it was remarkable for its beautiful delicacy. My eye accidentally caught two or three half withered wild-flowers, lying on the ground. The unknown nymph had doubtless dropped them from her bosom ! Here was a new docu- ment of taste and sentiment. I treasured them up as invaluable relics. The place, too, where I found them, was remarkably picturesque, and the most beautiful part of the brook. It was overhung with a fine elm, entwined with grapevines. She who could select such a spot who could delight in wild brooks, and wild flowers, and silent solitudes, must have fancy, and feeling, and tenderness ; and, with all these qualities, she must be beautiful ! But who could be this Unknown, that had thus passed by, as i.. a morning dream, leaving merely flowers and fairy footsteps to tell of her loveliness ! There was a mystery in it that Aountjos 313 bewildered me. It was so vague and disem- bodied, like those "airy tongues that syllable men's names" in solitude. Every attempt to solve the mystery was vain. I could hear of no being in the neighborhood to whom this trace could be ascribed. I haunted the spot, and became more and more enamoured. Never, surely, was passion more pure and spiritual, and never lover in more dubious situation. My case could only be compared with that of the amorous prince, in the fairy tale of Cmder- ella ; but he had a glass slipper on which to lavish his tenderness. I, alas ! was in love with a footstep ! The imagination is alternately a cheat and a dupe ; nay, more, it is the most subtle of cheats, for it cheats itself, and becomes the dupe of its own delusions. It conjures up ** airy noth- ings, ' ' gives to them a ' * local habitation and a name, ' * and then bows to their control as im- plicitly as if they were realities. Such was now my case. The good Numa could not more thoroughly have persuaded himself that the nymph Egeria hovered about her sacred foun- tain, and communed with him in spirit, than I had deceived myself into a kind of visionary intercourse with the airy phantom fabricated in my brain. I constructed a rustic seat at the foot of the tree where I had discovered the . . M ^' ''ill m 1 1 m 'I tiii !^ri r? i w 314 Aountjos footsteps. I made a kind of bower there, where I used to pass my mornings, reading poetry and romances. I carved hearts and darts on the tree, and hung it with garlands. My heart was full to overflowing, and wanted some faithful bosom into which it might relieve itself What is a lover without a confidante ? I thought at once of my sister Sophy, my early playmate, the sister of my affections. She was so reasonable, too, and of such correct feelings, always listening to my words as oracular say- ings, and admiring my scraps of poetry, as the very inspirations of the Muse. From such a devoted, such a rational being, what secrets could I have ? I accordingly took her, one morning, to my favorite retreat. She looked around, with de- lighted surprise, upon the rustic seat, the bower, the tree carved with emblems of the tender passion. She turned her eyes upon me to inquire the meaning. "O Sophy," exclaimed I, clasping both her hands in mine, and looking earnestly in her face, " I am in love ! " She started with surprise. "Sit down," said I, "and I will tell you all." She seated herself upon the rustic bench, and I went into a full history of the footstep, Aountjoi? 315 • there, reading rts and arlands. wanted t relieve fidante ? ny early She was feelings, liar say- 3etry, as rom such it secrets ^g, to my with de- seat, the IS of the upon nie both her ly in her tell you ic bench, footstep, ( t ( ( with all the associations of idea that had been conjured up by my imagination. Sophy was enchanted ; it was like a fairy tale : she had read of such mysterious visita- tions in books, and the loves thus conceived were always for beings of superior order, and were always happy. She caught the illusion, in all its force ; her cheek glowed ; her eye brightened. I dare say she 's pretty," said Sophy. Pretty ! " echoed I, "she is beautiful ! " I went through all the reasoning by which I had logically proved the fact to my own satis- faction. I dwelt upon the evidences of her taste, her sensibility to the beauties of Nature ; her soft meditative habit, that delighted in solitude; "Oh," said I, clasping my hands, ' * to have such a companion to wander through these scenes ; to sit with her by this murmur- ing stream ; to wreathe garlands round her brow ; to hear the music of her voice mingling with the whisperings of these groves " "Delightful! delightful!" cried Sophy; "what a sweet creature she must be! She is just the friend I want. How I shall dote upon her! Oh, my dear brother! you must not keep her all to yourself. You must let me have some share of her ! ' ' I caught her to my bosom : "You shall — i t ''■■i '*"§ i4 :/< , ■ '; :i.. \<. y -1 316 Aountjois Bf .'»■ !■ I Mi ' i 1 1 f I ! 1 I I I you shall ! " cried I, "my dear Sophy ; we will all live for each other ! " The conversation with Sophy heightened the illusions of mind ; and the manner in which she had treated my day-dream, identi- fied it with facts and persons, and gave it still more the stamp of reality. I walked about as one in a trance, heedless of the world around, and lapped in an elysium of the fancy. In this mood I met, one morning, with Glencoe. He accosted me with his usual smile, and was proceeding with some general observations, but paused and fixed on me an inquiring eye. " What is the matter with you? " said he ; * * you seem agitated ; has anything in particu- lar happened?" "Nothing," said I, hesitating; "at least nothing worth communicating to you." "Nay, my dear young friend," said he, "whatever is of sufficient importance to agi- tate you, is worthy of being communicated tome." "Well — but my thoughts are running on what you would think a frivolous subject." " No subject is frivolous that has the power to awaken strong feelings." "What think you," said I, hesitating, " what think you of love ? " Aountjos 317 Glencoe almost started at the question. "Do you call that a frivolous subject?" re- plied he. " Believe me, there is none fraught with such deep, such vital interest. If you talk, indeed, of the capricious inclination awakened by the mere charm of perishable beauty, I grant it to be idle in the extreme ; but that love which springs from the concor- dant sympathies of virtuous hearts ; that love which is awakened by the perception of moral excellence, and fed by meditation on intel- lectual as well as personal beauty ; that is a passion which refines and enobles the human heart. Oh, where is there a sight more nearly approaching to the intercourse of angels, than that of two young beings, free from the sins and follies of the world, mingling pure thoughts, and looks, and feelings, and becom- ing as it were soul of one soul, and heart of one heart ! How exquisite the silent con- verse that they hold ; the soft devotion of the eye, that needs no words to make it eloquent ! Yes, my friend, if there be anything in this weary world worthy of heaven, it is the pure bliss of such a mutual afifection ! " The words of my worthy tutor overcame all farther reserve. "Mr. Glencoe," cried I, blushing still deeper, " I am in love ! ' ' *' And is that what you were ashamed to tell lit r : 't in i III''' I il:= •ir y i: i : ■ 1 3i8 Aountjoi^ me? Oh, never seek to conceal from your friend so important a secret. If your passion be unworthy, it is for the steady hand of friendship to pluck it forth : if honorable, none but an enemy would seek to stifle it. On nothing does the character and happiness so much depend, as on the first affection of the heart. Were you caught by some fleeting or superficial charm — a bright eye, a blooming cheek, a soft voice, or a voluptuous form — I would warn you to beware ; I would tell you that beauty is but a passing gleam of the morning, a perishable flower ; that accident may becloud and blight it, and that at best it must soon pass away. But were you in love with such a one as I could describe ; young in years, but still younger in feelings ; lovely in person, but as a type of the mind's beauty ; soft in voice, in token of gentleness of spirit ; blooming in countenance, like the rosy tints of morning kindling with the promise of a genial day ; an eye beaming with the benig- nity of a happy heart ; a cheerful temper, alive to all kind impulses, and frankly diffusing its own felicity ; a self- poised mind, that needs not lean on others for support ; an elegant taste, that can embellish solitude, and furnish out its own enjoyments " " My dear sir," cried I. for I could contain Aouittjoi? 319 n yout passion and of lorable, it. On iness so a of the leting or looming form — I tell you I of the accident it best it II in love young in lovely in beauty ; of spirit ; rosy tints lise of a le benig- temper, diffusing hat needs elegant d furnish d contain myself no longer, ** you have descril)ed the very person ! ' ' "Why then, my dear young friend," said he, affectionately pressing my hand, '* in God's name, love on ! " For the remainder of the day I was in some such state of dreamy beatitude as a Tnrk is said to enjoy when under the influence of opium. It must be already manifest how prone I was to bewilder myself with picturings of the fancy, so as to confound them with exist- ing realities. In the present instance, Sophy and Glencoe had contributed to promote the transient delusion. Soph}', dear girl, had as usual joined with me in my castle-building, and indulged in the same train of imaginings, while Glencoe, duped by my enthusiasm, firmly believed that I spoke of a being I had seen and known. By their sympathy with my feelings, they in a manner became associated with the Unknown in my mind, and thus linked her with the circle of my intimacy. In the evening our family party was assem- bled in the hall, to enjoy the refreshing breeze. Sophy was playing some favorite Scotch airs on the piano, while Glencoe, seated apart, with his forehead resting on his hand, was buried in one of those pensive reveries, that made him so interesting to me. \ . •i^ '.j^ U lili ml 'P11 H hi ■'.;i 1 m 4;' If vi < 11- w iff in i > ■ iti 320 Aountjoi? i< What a fortunate being I am ! " thought I, " blessed with such a sister and such a friend ! I have only to find out this amiable Unknown, to wed her, and be happy ! What a paradise will be my home, graced with a partner of such exquisite refinement ! It will be a perfect fairy bower, buried among sweets and roses. Sophy shall live with us, and be the companion of all our enjoyments. Glencoe, too, shall no more be the solitary being that he now appears. He shall have a home with us. He shall have his study, where, when he pleases, he may shut himself up from the world, and bury himself in his own reflections. His retreat shall be held sacred ; no one shall intrude there ; no one but myself, who will visit him now and then, in his seclusion, where we v>iil devise grand schemes together for the improvement of mankind. How delightfully our days will pass, in a round of rational pleasures and elegant enjoyments ! Sometimes we will have music ; sometimes we will read ; sometimes we will wan- der through the flower-garden, when I will smile with complacency on every flower my wife has planted ; while in the long winter evenings, the ladies will sit at their work and listen, with hushed attention, to Glencoe and myself, as we discuss the abstruse doctrines of metaphysics. ' ' From this delectable reverie I was startled Aountjoi? 321 no more by my father's slapping me on the shoulder : " What possesses the lad ?" cried he ; '* here have I been speaking to you half a dozen times, without receiving an answer." "Pardon me, sir," replied I; "I was so completely lost in thought, that I did not hear you." "Lost in thought! And pray what were you thinking of? Some of your philosophy, I suppose. ' * "Upon my word," said my sister Charlotte, with an arch laugh, " I suspect Harry 's in love again." "And if I were in love, Charlotte," said I, somewhat nettled, and recollecting Glencoe's enthusiastic eulogy of the passion, " if I were in love, is that a matter of jest and laughter? Is the tenderest and most fervid affection that can animate the human breast to be made a matter of cold-hearted ridicule ? ' ' My sister colored. " Certainly not, brother ! nor did I mean to make it so, nor to say any- thing that should wound your feelings. Had I really suspected that you had formed some genuine attachment, it would have been sacred in my eyes; but — ^but," said she, smiling, as if at some whimsical recollection, "I thought that you — you might be indulging in another little freak of the imagination." ill; 'Iv1| .^ti* •: II VOL. II. — ai ft ■:' il \ I ill ■ i ri 333 /i5ountioi? " I '11 wager any money," cried my father, " he has fallen in love again v, ith some old lady at a window ! ' ' " Oh, no ! " cried my dear sister Sophy, with the most gracious warmth ; "she is young and beautiful." "From what I unvlerstand," said Glencoe, rousing himself," she must be lovely in mind as in person." I found my friends were getting me into a fine scrape. I began to perspire at every pore, and felt my ears tingle. " Well, but," cried my father, " who is she? — what is she? I^et us hear something about her." This w^as no time to explain so delicate a matter. I caught up my hat and vanished out of the house. The moment I was in the open air, and alone, my heart upbraided me. Was this respectful treatment to my father — to suck a father too — who had always regarded me as the pride of his age — the staflf of his hopes ? It is true, he was apt sometimes, to laugh at my enthusi- astic flights, and did not treat my philosophy with due respect; but when had he ever thwarted a wish of my heart ? Was I then to act with reserve toward him, in a matter which might affect the whole current of my future /ISountJOjS m father, nie old ly, with mg and >lencoe, in mind e into a jry pore, 3 is she ? ig about elicate a vanished tid alone, espectful er too — pride of true, he enthusi- lilosophy he ever [ then to er which ly future life? " I have dotic wrong," thought I ; "but it is not too late to remedy it. I will hasten back, and open my whole heart to my father ! " I returned accordingly, and was just on the point of entering the house, with my heart full of filial piety, and a contrite speech upon my lips, when I heard a burst of obstreperous laughter from my father, and a loud titter from my two elder sisters. "A footstep?" shouted he, as soon as he could recover himself; "in love with a foot- step ! why, this beats the old lady at the win- dow ! ' ' And then there was another appalling burst of laughter. Had it been a clap of thun- der, it could hardly have astounded me more completely. Sophy, in the simplicity of her heart, had told all, and had set my father's risible propensities in full action. Never was poor mortal so thoroughly crest- fallen as myself. The whole delusion was at an end. I drew off silently from the house, shrinking smaller and smaller at every fresh peal of laughter ; and, wandering about until the family had retired, stole quietly to my bed. Scarce any sleep, however, visited my eyes that night. I lay overwhelmed with mortification, and meditating how I might meet the family in the morning. The idea of ridicule was always intolerable to me : but to endure it on a t i tfi t'l .f '4*1 ; S 324 AountjO)2 I,-. ; !ti'* subject by which my feelings had been so much excited, seemed worse than death. I almost determined, at one time, to get up, saddle my horse, and ride off, I knew not whither. At* length I came to a resolution. Before going down to breakfast I sent for Sophy, and employed her as an ambassador to treat for- mally in the matter. I insisted that the sub- ject should be buried in oblivion ; otherwise I would not show my face at table. It was readily agreed to ; for not one of the family would have given me pain for the world. They faithfully kept their promise. Not a word was said of the matter ; but there were wry faces, and suppressed titters, that went to my soul ; and whenever my father looked me in the face, it was with such a tragic-comical leer — such an attempt to pull down a serious brow upon a whimsical mouth — that I had a thousand times rather he had laughed outright. For a day or two after the mortifying occur- rence mentioned, I kept as much as possible out of the way of the family, and wandered about the fields and woods by myself. I was sadly out of tune : my feelings were all jarred and unstrung. The birds sang from every grove, but I took no pleasure in their melody ; and the fiow^^s of the field bloomed unheeded around me. To be crossed in love is bad Aountjoi? 325 enough ; but then one can fly to poetry for relief, and turn one's woes to account in soul- subduing stanzas. But to have one's whole passion, object and all, annihilated, dispelled, proved to be such stuff as dreams are made of, or, worse than all, to be turned into a proverb and a jest — what cciisolation is there in such a case? I avoided the fatal brook where I had seen the footstep. My favorite resort was now the banks of the Hudson, where I sat upon the rucks and mused upon the current that dim- pled by, or the waves that laved the shore ; or watched the bright mutations of the clouds, and the shifting lights and shadows of the distant mountain. By degrees a returning serenity stole over my feelings ; and a sigh now and then, gentle and easy, and unattended by pain, showed that my heart was recovering its susceptibility. As I was sitting in this musing mood, my eye became gradually fixed upon an object that was borne along by the tide. It proved to be a little pinnace, beautifully modelled, and gayly painted and decorated. It was an un- usual sight in this neighborhood, which was rather lonely ; indeed it was rare to see any pleasure barks in this part of the river. As it drew nearer, I perceived that there was no one :^l iVJ 3i ' 'J i s 'J ! ff 326 Aountjoi? on board : it had apparently drifted from its anchorage. There was not a breath of air ; the little bark came floating along on the glassy stream, wheeling about with the eddies. At length it ran aground, almost at the foot of the rock on which I was seated. I descended to the margin of the river, and drawing the bark to shore, admired its light and elegant propor- tions, and taste with which it was fitted up. The benches were covered with cushions, and its long streamer was of silk. On one of the cushions lay a lady's glove, of delicate size and shape, with beautifully tapered fingers. I instantly seized it and thrust it in my bosom : it seemed a match for the fairy footstep that had so fascinated me. In a moment all the romance of my bosom was again in a glow. Here was one of the very incidents of fairy tale ; a bark sent by some invisible power, some good genius, or benevolent fairy, to waft me to some delectable adventure. I recollected something of an en- chanted bark, drawn by white swans, that con- veyed a knight down the current of the Rhine, on some enterprise connected with love and beauty. The glove, too, showed that there was a lady fair concerned in the present ad- venture. It might be a gauntlet of defiance, to dare me to the enterprise. Aountjoi? 387 rom its of air ; e glassy es. At )t of the inded to he bark propor- tted up. ons, and le of the :ate size gers. I bosom : itep that y bosom Q of the sent by jnius, or electable )f an en- that con- le Rhine, ove and at there esent ad- defiance, In the spirit of romance, and the whim of the moment, I sprang on board, hoisted the light sail, and pushed from shore. As if breathed by some presiding power, a light breeze at that moment sprang up, swelled out the sail, and dallied with the silken streamer. For a time I glided along under steep umbra- geous banks, or across deep sequestered bays ; and then stood out over a wide expansion of the river, toward a high rocky promontory. It was a lovely evening : the sun was setting in a congregation of clouds that threw the whole heavens in a glow, and were reflected in the river. I delighted myself with all kinds of fantastic fancies, as to what enchanted island or mystic bower, or necromantic palace. I was to be conveyed by the fairy bark. In the revel of my fancy, I had not noticed that the gorgeous congregation of clouds which had so much delighted me, was, in fact, a gathering thunder-gust. I perceived the truth too late. The clouds came hurrying on, darkening as they advanced. The whole face of Nature was suddenly changed, and assumed that baleful and livid tint predictive of a storm. I tried to gain the shore ; but, before I could reach it, a blast of wind struck the water, and lashed it at once into foam. The next moment it overtook the boat. Alas ! I was nothing of t- i in fii J ' 328 Aountjoi? a sailor ; and my protecting fairy forsook me in the moment of peril. I endeavored to lower the sail, but in so doing I had to quit the helm ; the bark was overturned in an instant, and I was thrown into the water. I endeavored to nling to the wreck, but missed my hold : being a poor swimmer, I soon found myself sinking, but grasped a light oar that was floating by me. It was not sufficient for my support : I again sank beneath the surface ; there was a rushing and bubbling sound in my ears, and all sense forsook me. How long I remained insensible, I know not. I had a confused notion of being moved and tossed about, and of hearing strange beings and strange voices around me ; but all was like a hideous dream. When I at length re- covered full consciousness and perception, I found myself in bed, in a spacious chamber, furnished with more taste than I had been accustomed to. The bright rays of a morning sun were intercepted by curtains of a delicate rose color, that gave a soft, voluptuous tinge to every object. Not far from my bed, on a classic tripod, was a basket of beautiful exotic flowers, breathing the sweetest fragrance. * ' Where ami? How came I here ? ' ' I tasked my mind to catch at some previous event, from which I might trace up the thread AountjoiS 3*9 of existence to the present moment. By degrees I called to mind the fairy pinnace, my daring embarkation, my adventurous voyage, and my disastrous shipwreck. Beyond that all was chaos. How came I here ? What un- known region had I landed upon ? The people that inhabited it must be gentle and amiable, and of elegant tastes, for they loved downy beds, fragrant flowers, and rose-colored cur- tains. While I lay thus musing, the tones of a harp reached my ear. Presently they were accom- panied by a female voice. It came from the room below ; but in the profound stillness cf my chamber not a modulation was lost. My sisters were all considered good musicians, and sang very tolerably ; but I had never heard a voice like this. There was no attempt at difl&cult execution, or striking effect ; but there were exquisite inflexions, and tender turns, which art could not reach. Nothing but feel- ing and sentiment could produce them. It was soul breathed forth in sound. I was always alive to the influence of music ; indeed I was susceptible of voluptuous influences of every kind, — sounds, colors, shapes, and fragrant odors. I was the very slave of sensation. I lay mute and breathless, and drank in every note of this siren strain. It thrilled r 4 I : tl I ■:.iii| ill , 4 f 330 Aotintjoe li 7^- t If :. I'; if?! ' it ■ • I through my whole frame, and filled my soul with melody and love. I pictured to myself, with curious logic, the form of the unseen musician. Such melodious sounds and ex- quisite inflexions could only be produced by organs of the most delicate flexibility. Such organs do not belong to coarse, vulgar forms ; they are the harmonious results of fair propor- tions and admirable symmetry. A being so organized must be lovely. Again my busy imagination was at work. I called to mind the Arabian story of a prince, borne away during sleep by a good genius, to the distant abode of a princess of ravishing beauty. I do not pretend to say that I be- lieved in having experienced a similar trans- portation ; but it was my inveterate habit to cheat myself with fancies of the kind, and to give the tinge of illusion to surrounding realities. The witching sound had ceased, but its vibrations still played round my heart, and filled it with a tumult of soft emotions. At this moment a self-upbraiding pang shot through my bosom. * ' Ah, recreant ! " a voice seemed to exclaim, ** is this the vStability of thine affection;: ? What ! hast thou so soon forgotten the nymph of the fountain ? Has one song, idly piped in thine ear, been sufficient to Aountjoi? 331 ny soul myself, unseen ind ex- iced by . Such • forms ; prop3r- )eing so it work. I prince, enius, to avishing at I be- ir trans- te habit ind, and ounding chann away the cherished tenderness of a whole summer ? ' * The wise may smile ; but I am in a confiding mood, and must confess my weakness. I felt a degree of compunction at tliis sudden in- fidelity, yet I could not resist the power of present fascination. My peace of mind was destroyed by conflicting claims. The nymph of the fountain came over my memory, with all the associations of fairy footsteps, shady groves, soft echoes, and wild streamlets ; but this new passion was produced by a strain of soul-subduing melody, still lingering in my ear, aided by a downy bed, fragrant flowers, and rose-colored curtains. ** Unhappy youth ! ' ' sighed I to myself, " distracted by such rival passions, and the empire of thy heart thus violently contested by the sound of a voice and the print of a footstep ! ' ' I had not remained long in this mood, when I heard the door of the room gently opened. I turned my head to see what inhabitant of this enchanted palace should appear ; whether page in green, hideous dwarf, or haggard fairy. . It was my own man Scipio. He advanced with cautious step, and was delighted, as he said, to find me so much myself again. My first questions were as to where I was, and how I came there ? Scipio told me a long story of m i«^i M 333 Aountjoe if m '■hi ! lei n f his having been fishing in a canoe, at the time of ray hare-brained cruise ; of his noticing the gathering squall, and my impending danger ; of his hastening to join me, but arriving just in time to snatch me from a watery grave ; of the great difficulty in restoring me to anima- tion ; and of my being subsequently conveyed, in a state of insensibility, to this mansion. "But where am I?" was the reiterated demand. " In the house of Mr. Somerville.*' ' * Somervil «e — Somerville ! " I recollected to have heard that a gentleman of that name had recently taken up his residence at some distance from my father's abode, on the op- posite side of the Hudson. He was commonly known by the name of ** French Somenalle," from having passed part of his early life in France, and from his exhibiting traces of French taste in his mode of living and the arrangements of his house. In fact, it was in his pleasure-boat, which had got adrift, that I had made my fanciful and disastrous cruise. All this was simple, straightforward matter of iCact, and threatened to demolish all the cobweb romance I had been spinning, when fortunately I again heard the tinkling of a harp. I raised myself in bed, and listened. Scipio," said I, with some little hesitation, If Aountjos 333 (t It "I heard some one singing just now. Who was it ? " Oh, that was Miss Julia. Julia ! Julia ! Delightful ! what a name ! And, Scipio — is she — is she pretty ? " Scipio grinned from ear to ear. "Except Miss Sophy, she was the most beautiful young lady he had ever seen." I should observe, that my sister Sophia was considered by all the servants a paragon of perfection. Scipio now offered to remove the basket of flowers ; he was afraid their odor might be too powerful ; but Miss Julia had given them that morning to be placed in my room. These flowers, then, had been gathered by the fairy fingers of my unseen beauty : that sweet breath, which had filled my ear with melody, had passed over them. I made Scipio hand them to me, culled several of the most delicate, and laid them on my bosom. Mr. Somerville paid me a visit not long after- ward. He was an interesting study for me, for he was the father of my unseen beauty, and probably resembled her. I scanned him closely. He was a tall and elegant man, with an open, aflable manner, and an erect and graceful car- riage. His eyes were bluish-gray, and, though not dark, yet at times were sparkling and ex- Riitl I s 'I: ii. ■ ' I- 334 AOUlltJOC pressivc. His hair was dressed and powdered and being lightly combed up from his forehead, added to the loftiness of his aspect. He was fluent in discourse, but his conversation had the quiet tone of polished society, without any of those bold flights of thought, and picturings of fancy, which I so much admired. My imagination was a little puzzled at first, to make out of this assemblage of personal and mental qualities, a picture that should harmon- ize with my previous idea of the fair unseen. By dint, however, of selecting what it liked, and rejecting what it did not like, and giving a touch here and a touch there, it soon finished out a satisfactory portrait. "Julia must be tall," thought I, "and of equisite ^race and dignity. She is not quite so courtly as her father, for she has been brought up in the retirement of the country. Neither is she of such vivacious deportment ; for the tones of her voice are soft and plaintive, and she loves pathetic music. She is rather pensive — yet not too pensive ; just what is called interesting. Her eyes are like her father's, except that they are of a purer blue, and more tender and languishing. She has light hair — not exactly flaxen, for I do not like flaxen hair, but between that and auburn. In a word, she is a tall, elegant, impos- AountJoi2 33$ wdered )rebea(l, He was ion had lout any icturings I at first, ,onal and harmon- • unseen, it liked, id giving n finished "and of not quite has been country. x)rtment ; plaintive, is rather what is like her urer blue, She has io not hke i auburn, it, impos- ing, languishing, blue-eyed, romantic looking beauty." And having thus finished her pict- ure, I felt ten times more in love with her than ever. I felt so much recovered, that I would at once have left my room, but Mr. Somerville objected to it. He had sent early word to my family of my safety ; and my father arrived in the course of the morning. He was shocked at learning the risk I had run, but rejoiced to find me so much restored, and was warm in his thanks to Mr. Somerville for his kindness. The other only required, in return, that I might remain two or three days as his guest, to give time for my recovery, and for our forming a closer acquaintance, a request which my father readily granted. Scipio accordingly accom- panied my father home, and returned with a supply of clothes, and with affectionate letters from my mother and sisters. The next morning, aided by Scipio, I made my toilet with rather more care than usual, and descended the stairs with some trepidation, eager to see the original of the portrait which had been so completely pictured in my im- agination. On entering the parlor, I found it deserted, lyike the rest of the house, it was furnished in a foreign style. The curtains were of French ' i ^^li) I il 33(i /iSountjoe 11 ... 'ir: - silk ; there were Grecian couches, marble tables, pier-glasses, and chandeliers. What chiefly attracted my eye, were documents of female taste that I saw around me, — a piano with an ample stock of Italian music ; a book of poetry lying on the sofa ; a vase of fresh flowers on a table, and a portfolio open with a skilful and half finished sketch of them. In the window was a Canary bird, in a gilt cage ; and near by, the harp that had been in Julia's arms. Happy harp ! But where was the being that reigned in this little empire of delicacies? — that breathed poetry and song, and dwelt among birds and flowers, and rose-colored cur- tains? , Suddenly I heard the hall-door fly open, the quick pattering of light steps, a wild, capri- cious strain of music, and the shrill barking of a dog. A light frolic nymph of fifteen came tripping into the room, playing on a flageolet, with a little spaniel ramping after her. Her gypsy hat had fallen back upon her shoulders ; a profusion of glossy brown hair was blown in rich ringlets about her face, which beamed through them with the brightness of smiles and dimples. At sight of me she stopped short, in the most beautiful confusion, stammered out a word or two about looking for her father, glided out of AountlO)^ the d 348 Aountjov U r 1 ?■: ,y 1 ness of our previous iite-h-tite. I was elevated by the consciousness of my intellectual superi- ority, and should almost have felt a sentiment of pity for the ignorance of the lovely little being, if I had not felt also the assurance that I should be able to dispel it. * ' But it is time, ' * thought I, " to open school." Julia was occupied in arranging some music on her piano. I looked over two or three songs ; they were Moore's Irish Melodies. "These are pretty things," said I, flirting the leaves over lightly, and giving a slight shrug, by way of qualifying the opinion. " Oh, I love them of all things ! " said Julia, " they 're so touching ! " " Then you like them for the poetry? " said I, with an encouraging smile. "Oh, yes; she thought them charmingly written." Now was my time. * ' Poetry, ' ' said I, assum- ing a didactic attitude and air, — " poetry is one of the most pleasing studies to occupy a youth- ful mind. It renders us susceptible of the gentle impulses of humanity, and cherishes a delicate perception of all that is virtuous and elevated in morals, and graceful and beautiful in physics. It — " I was going on in a style that would have graced a professor of rhetoric, when I saw a Aount]0]2 349 light smile playing about Miss Somerville's mouth, and that she began to turn over the leaves of a music book. I recollected her inat- tention to my discourse of the preceding morn- ing. "There is no fixing her light mind," thought I, "by abstract theory; we will proceed practically." As it happened, the identical volume of Milton's Paradise Lost was lying at hand. "Let me recommend to you, my young friend," said I, in one of thOvSe tones of per- suasive admonition, which T had so often loved in Glencoe, — "let me recommend to you this admirable poem : you will find in it sources of intellectual enjoyment far superior to thosi; .songs which have delighted you." Julia looked at the book, and then at me, with a whimsically dubious air. " Milton's Paradise Z^j/.^" said she; "oh, I know the greater part of that by heart." I had not expected to find my pupil so far advanced ; however, the Paradise Lost is a kind of school-book, and its finest passages are given to young ladies as tasks. "I find," said I to myself, "I must not treat her as so complete a novice ; her inatten- tion, yesterday, could not have proceeded from absolute ignorance, but merely from a want of poetic feeling. I *11 try her again." I k. I I ■;. I S50 ijbountloi; 'i * ■ •i T rt Els u I now detcrniincd to dazzle her with my own erudition, and launched into a harangue that would have done honor to an institute. Pope, Six?nser, Chaucer, and the old dramatic writers were all dipped into, with the excursive flight of a swallow. I did not confine myself to English poets, but gave a glance at the French and Italian schools : I passed over Ariosto in full wing, but paused on Tasso's Jertisalem Delivered. I dwelt on the character of Clo- rinda: " There 's a character," said I, "that you will find well worthy a woman's study. It shows to what exhalted heights of heroism the sex can rise ; how gloriously they may share even in the stern concerns of men.'* " For my part," said Julia, gently taking advantage of a pause, — " for my part, I prefer the character of Sophronia." I was thunderstruck. She then had read Tasso ! This girl that I had been treating as an ignoramus in poetry ! She proceeded, with a slight glow of the cheek, summoned up perhaps by a casual glow of feeling : — " I do not admire those masculine heroines," said she, " who aim at the bold qualities of the opposite sex. Now Sophronia only exhibits the real qualities of a woman, wrought up to their highest excitement. She is modest, gentle, and retiring, as it becomes a woman to I Aountjoi? 35t my own ;ue that Pope, : writers /e flight yself to : French riosto in erusaletn of Clo- I, ''that s study. heroism ley may m." f taking , I prefer ad read leating as led, with loned up iroines," lies of the exhibits ^ht up to modest, ^oman to be ; but she has all the strength of affection proper to a woman. She cannot fight for her people, as Clorinda does, but she can offer herself up, and die, to serv'e them. You may admire Clorinda, but you surely would be more apt to love Sophronia ; at least," added she, suddenly appearing to recollect herself, and blushing at having launched into such a dis- cussion, — " at least, that is what papa observed, when we read the poem together." " Indeed," said I, dryly, for I felt discon- certed and nettled at being unexpectedly lec- tured by my pupil, — " indeed, I do not exactly recollect the passage." " Oh," said Julia, " I can repeat it to you ; " and she immediately gave it in Italian. Heavens and earth ! — here was a situation ! I knew no more of Italian than I did of the language* of P.salmanazar. What a dilemma for a would-be-wise man to be placed in ! I saw Julia waited for my opinion. *• In fact," said I, hesitating, " I— I Jo not exactly understand Italian." "Oh," said Julia, with the utmost natvetS, " I have no doubt it is very beautiful in the translation." I was glad to break up school and get back to my chamber, full of the mortification which a wise man in love experiences on finding his .1 m m i if ; J I,. i ![: i: m ■fir' ■■' ■'■ 352 ASountjog mistress wiser than himself. "Translation! translation ! " muttered I to myself, as I jerktd the door shut behind me. " I am surprised my father has never had me instructed in the modern languages. They are all-important. What is the use of Latin and Greek ? No one speaks them ; but here, the moment I make my appearance in the world, a little girl slaps Italian in my face. However, thank Heaven, a language is easily learned. The moment I return home, I '11 set about studying Italian ; and to prevent future surprise, I will study Spanish and German at the same time ; and if any young lady attempts to quote Italian upon me again, I '11 bury her under a heap of High Dutch poetry ! " I felt now like some mighty chieftain, who has carried the war into a weak country, with full confidence of success, and been repulsed and obliged to draw off his forces from before some inconsiderable fortress. "However," thought I, ** I have as yet brought only my light artillery into action ; we shall see what is to be done with my heavy ordnance. Julia is evidently well versed in poetry ; but it is natural she should be so ; it is allied to painting and music, and is congenial to the light graces of the female character. We will try her on graver themes.'* Aountjoi? 353 I felt all my pride awakened ; it even for a time swelled higher than my love. I was deter- mined completely to establish my mental superi- ority, and subdue the intellect of this little being : it would then be time to sway the sceptre of gentle empire, and win the affections of her heart. Accordingly, at dinner T again took the field en potence. I now addressed myself to Mr. Somerville, for I was about to enter upon topics in which a young girl like her could not be well versed. I led, or rather forced, the con- versation into a vein of historical erudition, discussing several of the most prominent facts of ancient history and accompanying them with sound, indisputable apothegms. Mr. Somerville listened to me with the air of a man receiving information. I was en- couraged, and went on gloriously from theme to theme of school declamation. I sat with Marius on the ruins of Carthage ; I defended the bridge with Horatius Cocles ; thrust my hand into the flame with Martins Scsevola, and plunged with Curtius into the yawning gulf ; I fought side by side with Leonidas, at the straits of Thermopylae ; and was going full drive into the battle of Platsea, when my memory, which is the worst in the world, failed me, just as I wanted the name of the I^acedae- monian commander. VOL. 11.-23 f •jy. -I. L"' ' r -, ! i in 1^ ?i,i >n K si 354 Aoutitjoe "Julia, my dear," said Mr. Somerville, '* perhaps you may recollect the name of which Mr. Mountjoy is in quest ? " Julia colored slightly : " I believe," said she, in a low voice, — '* I believe it was Pausanias." This unexpected sally, instead of reinforcing me, threw my whole scheme of battle into con- fusion, and the Athenians remained unmolested in the field. I am half inclined, since, to think Mr. Somer- ville meant this as a sly hit at my schoolboy pedantry ; but he was too well-bred not to seek to relieve me from my mortification. ** Oh ! " said he, "Julia is our family book of reference for names, dates, and distances, and has an excellent memory for history and geography.*' I now became desperate ; as a last resource, I turned to metaphysics. '* If she is a philoso- pher in petticoats,*' thought I, ** it is all over with me.** Here, however, I had the field to myself. I gave chapter and verse of my tutor's lectures, heightened by all his poetical illustrations ; I even went fartiier than he had ever ventured, and plunged into such depths of metaphysics, that I was in danger of sticking in the mire at the bottom. Fortunately, I had auditors who apparently could not detect my flounderings. Aountjoi? 3S5 lerville, ►f which laid she, sanias." nforcing into con- tnolested ■. Somer- choolboy 1 not to ification. ' book of ices, and :ory and resource, philoso- all over Neither Mr. Soraerville nor his daughter offered the least interruption. When the ladies had retired, Mr. Somerville sat some time with me ; and as I was no longer anxious to astonish, I permitted myself to lis- ten, and found that he was really agreeable. He was quite communicative, and from his conversation I was enabled to form a juster idea of his daughter's character, and the mode in which she had been brought up. Mr. Somerville had mingled much with the world, and with what is termed fashionable society. He had experienced its cold elegancies, and gay insincerities ; its dissipation of the spirits, and squanderings of the heart. Like many men of the world, though he had wandered too far from Nature ever to return to it, yet he had the good taste and good feeling to look back fondly to its simple delights, and to de- termine that his child, if possible, should never leave them. He had superintended her edu- cation with scrupulous care, storing her mind with the graces of polite literature, and with such knowledge as would enable it to furnish its own amusement and occupation, and giving her all the accomplishments that sweeten and enliven the qircle of domestic life. He had been particularly sedulous to exclude fashion- able afifectations ; all false sentiment, false I 35i> Aountjoe f . i:tl: if I sensibility, and false romance. ** Whatever advantages she may possess," said he, " she is quite unconscious of them. She is a capricious little being, in everything but her affections ; she is, however, fro. from art ; simple, ingenu- ous, innocent, am 'able, and, I thank God ! happy." Such was the eulogy of a fond father, de- livered with a tenderness that touched me. I could not help making a casual inquiry whether, among the graces of polite literature, he had included a slight tincture of metaphy- sics. He smiled, and told me he had not. On the whole, when, as usual, that night I summed up the day's observations on my pil- low, I was not altogether dissatisfied. " Miss Somerville," said I, " loves poetry, and I like her the better for it. She has the advantage of me in Italian : agreed ; what is it to know a variety of languages, but merely to have a variety of sounds to express the same idea? Original thought is the ore of the mind ; lan- guage is but the accidental stamp and coinage, by which it is put into circulation. If I can furnish an original idea, what care I how many languages she can translate it into ? She may be able, also, to quote names, and dates, and latitudes, better than I ; but that is a mere eflfort of the memory. I admit she is more Aountjds 9S7 accurate in history and geography than I ; but then she knows nothing of metaphysics." I had now suflSciently recovered to return home ; yet I could not think of leaving Mr. Somerville's without having a little farther conversation with him on the subject of his daughter's education. "This Mr. Somerville," thought I, "is a vrry accomplished, elegant man ; he has seen a good deal of the world, and, upon the whole, has profited by what he has seen. He is not without information, and, as far as he thinks, appears to think correctly ; but after all, he is rather superficial, and does not think pro- foundly. He seems to take no delight in those metaphysical abstractions that are the proper aliment of masculine minds." I called to mind various occasions in which I had in- dulged largely in metaphysical discussions, but could recollect no instance where I had been able to draw him out. He had listened, it is true, with attention, and smiled as if in ac- quiescence, but had always appeared to avoid reply. Besides, I had made several sad blun- ders in the glow of eloquent declamation ; but he had never interrupted me, to notice and correct them, as he would have done had he been versed in the theme. *' Now it is really a great pity," resumed I, % m 11 m I 1 M 358 /ISountios r^ .'it' ^ "^ " that he should have the entire management of Miss Somerville's education. What a vast advantage it would be, If she could be put for a little timt under the superintendence of Glencoe. He would throw some deeper luiacks of thought into her mind, which at pre. .en t h all sunshine ; not but that Mr, SomervilU has done very well, as far as he has gone ; but then he has merely prepared the soil for the strong plants of useful knowledgeo She is well versed in the leading facts of history, and the general course of hclles lettres." said I ; ** a little more philosophy v.i)i]iid do wonders." I accordingly took occasion to ask Mr. Som- erville for a few moments' conversation in his study, the morning I was to depart. When we were alone, I opened the matter fully to him. I commenced with the warmest eulogium of Glencoe' s powers of mind, and vast acquire- ments, and ascribed to him all my proficiency in the higher branches of knowledge. I begged, therefore, to recommend him as a friend calcu- lated to direct the studies of Miss Somerville ; to lead her mind, by degrees, to the contem- plation of abstract principles, and to produce habits of philosophical analysis; *' which," added I, gently smiling, ** are not often culti- vated by young ladies." I ventured to hint, in addition, that he would find Mr. Glencoe a Aountjos 359: *" most valuable and interesting acquaintance for himself ; one who would stimulate and evolve the powers of his mind ; and who might open to him tracts of inquiry and speculation to which perhaps he had hitherto been a stranger. Mr. Somerville listened with grave attention. When I had finished, he thanked me in the politest manner for the interest I took in the welfare of his daughter and himself. He ob- served that, as regarded himself, he was afraid he was too old to benefit by the instructions of Mr. Glencoe, and that as to his daughter, he was afiraid her mind was but little fitted for the study of metaphysics. " I do not wish," continued he, "to strain her intellects with subjects they cannot grasp, but to make her familiarly acquainted with those that are within the limits of her capacity. I do not pretend to prescribe the boundaries of female genius, and am far from indulging the vulgar opinion that women are unfitted by Nature for the highest intellectual pursuits. I speak only with ref- erence to my daughter's taste and talents. She will never make a learned woman ; nor in truth do I desire it ; for such is the jealousy of our sex, as to mental as well as physical ascendency, that a learned woman is not always the happiest. I do not wish my daughter to excite envy, nor to battle with the prejudices \i. ■■ * Hi I ,'■■;' i 36o Aountjoj? 1^ f w It' r of the world ; but to glide peaceably through life, on the good-will and kind opinion of her friends. She has ample employment for her little head in the course I have marked put for her ; and is busy at present with some branches of natural history, calculated to awaken her perceptions to the beauties and wonders of Nature, and to the inexhaustible volume of wisdom constantly spread open before her eyes. I consider that woman most likely to make an agreeable companion, who can draw topics of pleasing remark from every natural object ; and most likely to be cheerful and contented, who is continually sensible of the order, the harmony, and the invariable beneficence that reign throughout the beautiful world we inhabit. *' But," added he, smiling, *' I am betraying myself into a lecture, instead of merely giving a reply to your kind offer. Permit me to < ake the liberty, in return, of inquiring a little about your own pursuits. You speak of hav- ing finished your education ; but of course you have a line of private study and mental occupa- tion marked out ; for you mubc know the importance, both in point of interest and hap- piness, of keeping the mind employed; May I ask what system you observe in your intellec- tual exercises?'* Aountjoc .3 He complimented me, however, very gra- ciously, upon tlie progress I had made, but advised me for the present to turn my attention to the physical rather than the moral sciences. ** These studies," said he, "store a man's mind with valuable facts, and at the same time re- press self-confidence, by letting him know how boundless are the realms of knowledge, and how little we car. possibly know. Whereas metaphysical studies, though of an ingenious order of intellectual employment, are apt to bewilder some minds with vague speculations. They never know how far they have advanced, or what may be the correctness of their favorite theory. They render many of our young men verbose and declamatory, and prone to mistake the aberrations of their fancy for the inspira- tions of divine philosophy." I could not but interrupt him, to assent to the truth of these remarks, and to say that it had been ray lot, in the course of my limited experience, to encounter young men of the kind, who had overwhelmed me by their ver- bosity. Mr. Somerville smiled. "I trust," said he kindly, "that you will guard against these errors. Avoid the eagerness with which a young man is apt to hurry into conversation, and to utter the crude and ill-digested notions [yil m }<" '■ i. 364 Aountjos Iff 1*- which he has picked up in his recent studies. Be assured that extensive and accurate knowl- edge is the slow acquisition of a studious life- time ; that a young man, however pregnant his wit and prompt his talent, can have mas- tered but the rudiments of learning, and, in a manner attained the impleitients of study. Whatever may have been your past assiduity, you must be sensible that as yet you have but reached the threshold of true knowledge ; but at the same tjme, you have the advantage that you are still very young, and have ample time to learn." Here our conference ended. I walked out of the study, a very different being from what I was on entering it. I had gone in with the air of a professor about to deliver a lecture ; I came out like a student, who had failed in his examination, and been degraded in his class. "Very young,'* and **on the threshold of knowledge ! " This was extremely flattering to one who had considered himself an accom- plished scholar and profound philosopher 1 "It is singular,'* thought I; "there seems to have been a spell upon my faculties ever since I have been in this house. I certainly have not been able to do myself justice. When- ever I have undertaken to advise, I have had the tables turned upon me. It must be that I Aottittjos 365 am strange and diffident among people I am not accustomed to. I wish they could hear me talk at home ! " "After all," added I, on farther reflection, — "after all, there is a great deal of force in what Mr. Somerville has said. Somehow or other, these men of the world do now and then hit upon remarks that would do credit to a philosopher. Some of his general observations came so home, that I almost thought they were meant for myself. His advice about adopting a system of study, is very judicious. I will immediately put it in practice. My mind shall operate henceforward with the regularity of clock-work.'* How far I succeeded in adopting this plan, how I fared in the farther pursuit of knowledge, and how I succeeded in my suit to Julia Somer- ville, may afford matter for a farther communi- cation to the public, if this simple record of my early life is fortunate enough to excite any curiosity. r. ''.'fi ■ ?;>-;' RECOLLECTIONS OF THE ALHAMBRA. V. li fj! i I HAVE already given to the world some anecdotes of a summer's residence in the old Moorish palace of the Alhambra. It was a dreamy sojourn, during which I lived, as it were, in the midst of an Arabian tale, and shut my eyes as much as possible to everj'^- thing that should call me back to every-day life. If there is any country in Europe where one can do so, it is among these magnificent but semi-barbaric ruins of poor, wild, legen- dary, romantic Spain. In the silent and de- serted halls of the Alhambra, surrounded with the insignia of regal sway, and the vivid, though dilapidated traces of Oriental luxury, I was in the stronghold of Moorish story, where everything spoke of the palmy days of Granada when under the dominion of the crescent. 366 Vccollectiond o( tbe Blbambra 367 Much of the literature of Spain turns upon the wars of the Moors and Christians, and consists of traditional ballads and tales or romances, about the ^^ bucnas andanzas^'' and ^^ grandes hechos,'* the "lucky adventures "and "great exploits " of the warriors of yore. It is worthy of remark, that many of these lays which sing of prowess and magnanimity in war, and ten- derness and fidelity in love, relate as well to Moorish as to Spanish cavaliers. The lapse of peaceful centuries has extinguished the ran- cor of ancient hostility ; and the warriors of Granada, once the objects of bigot detestation, are now often held up by Spanish poets as mirrors of chivalric virtue. None have been the theme of higher eulogy than the illustrious line of the Abencerrages, who in the proud days of Moslem domination were the soulof everything noble and chival- ric. The veterans of the family sat in the royal council, and were foremost in devising heroic enterprises to carry dismay into the Christian territories ; and what the veterans devised the young men of the name were foremost to exe- cute. In all adventures, enterprises, and hair- breadth hazards, the Abencerrages were sure to win the brightest laurels. In the tilt and tourney, in the riding at the ring, the dar- ing bull-fight, and all other recreations which 368 'RecoUecttons of tbe BIbambra bore an affinity to war, the Abencerrages car- ried off the palm. None equalled them for splendor of array, for noble bearing, and glori- ous horsemanship. Their open-handed munifi- cence made them the idols of the people ; their magnanimity and perfect faith gained the ad- miration of the high-minded. Never did they decry the merits of a rival, nor betray the con- fidings of a friend ; and the word of an Aben- cerrage was a guaranty never to be doubted. And then their devotion to the fair ! Never did Moorish beauty consider the fame of her charms established, until she had an Abencer- rage for a lover ; and never did an Abencerrage prove recreant to his vows. lyovely Granada ! City of delights ! Who ever bore the favors of thy dames more proudly on their casques, or championed them more gallantly in the chivalrous tilts of the Vivarambla ? Or who ever made thy moon-lit balconies, thj*^ gardens of myrtles and roses, of oranges, citrons, and pomegranates, respond to more tender serenades ? Such were the fancies I used to conjure up as I sat in the beautiful hall of the Abencer- rages, celebrated in the tragic story of that devoted race, where thirty-six of its bravest cavaliers were treacherously sacrificed to ap- pease the jealous fears of a tyrant. The foun- w 1{ecollectlon0 ot Xbe Blbambra 369 tain which once ran red with their blood, throws lip a sparkling jet, and spreads a dewy freshness through the hall ; but a deep stain on the mar- ble pavement is still pointed out as a sanguinary record of the massacre. The truth of the re- cord has been called in question, but I regarded it with the same determined faith with which I contemplated the stains of Rizzio's blood on the floor of the palace of Holy rood. I thank no one for enlightening my credulity on points of poetical belief. It is like robbing the statue of Memnon of its mysterious music. Dispel historical illusions, and there is an end to half the charms of travelling. The hall of the Abencerrages is connected, moreover,' with the recollection of one of the sweetest evenings and sweetest scenes I ever enjoyed in Spain. It was a beautiful summer evening, when the moon shone down into the Court of Lions, lighting up its sparkli iff foun- tain. I was seated with a few companions in the hall in question, listening to those tradi- tional ballads and romances i i which the Spaniards delight. They were sung to the accompaniment of the guitar, by one of the most gifted and fascinating beings that I ever met ^ith even among the fascinating daugh- ters of Spain. She was 3'oung and beautiful, and light and ethereal, full of fire, and spirit, VOL. 11.— 24 370 1Rccollcctiov9 of tbe Blbambra and pure enthusiasm. She wore the fanciful Andalusian dress, touched the guitar with speaking eloquence, improvised with wonder- ful facility ; anc', as she became excited by her theme, or by the rapt attention of her auditors, would pour forth, in the richest and most melo- dious strains, a succession of couplets, full of striking description, or Stirling narrative, and composed, as I was assured, at the moment. Most of these were suggested by the place, and related to the ancient glories of Granada and the prowess of her chivalry. The Abencer- rages were her favorite heroes ; she felt a wo- man's admiration of their gallant courtesy and high-souled honor ; and it was touching and inspiring to hear the praises of that generous but devoted race chanted in this fated hall of their calamity, by the lips of Spanish beauty. Among the subjects of which she treated, was a tale of Moslem honor and old-fashioned courtesy, which made a strong impression on me. She disclaimed all merit of invention, however, and said she had merely dilated into verse a popular tradition ; and, indeed, I have since found the main facts inserted at the end of Conde's History of the Domination of the Arabs, and ihe story itself embodied in the form of an episode in the Diana of Monte- mayoi. From these sources I have drav/n it VecoUcctione ot tbe filbambra 371 forth, and ende**vored to shape it according to my recollection of the version of the beautiful minstrel ; but alas i what can supply the want of that voice, that look, that form, that action, whicti gave magical efxect to her chant, and held every one rapt in breathless admiration ! Should this mere travestie of her inspired num- bers ever meet her eye, in her stately abode at Granada, may it meet with that indulgence which belongs to her benignant nature. Happy should I be, if it could awaken in her bosom one kind recollection of the stranger, for whose gratification she did not think it beneath her to exert those fascinating powers, in the moon-lit halls of the Alhambra. THK ABENCERRAGK. On the summit of a craggy hill, a spur of the mountains of Ronda, stands the castle of AUora, now a mere ruin, infested by bats and owlets, but in old times, a strong border-hold which kept watch upon the warlike kingdom of Granada, and held the Moors in check. It was a post always confided to some well-tried comihander, and at the time of which we treat was held by Rodrigo de Narvaez, alcayde, or military governor of Antiquera. It was a frontier post of his command ; but he passed 372 Vecollectiona o( tbe BIbamt>pa most of his time there, because its situation on the borders gave frequent opportunity for those adventurous exploits in which the Spanish chivalry delighted. He was a veteran, famed among both Moors and Christians, not only for deeds of arms, but for that magnanimous courtesy which should ever be entwined with the stern virtues of the soldier. His garrison consisted of fifty chosen men, well appointed and well mounted, with which he maintained such vigilant watch that nothing could escape his eye. While some remained on guard in the oastle, he would sally forth with others, prowling about the highways, the paths and defiles of the mountains, by day and night, and now and then making a daring foray into the very Vega of Granada. On a fair and beautiful night in summer, when the moon was in the full, and the fresh- ness of the evening breeze had tempered the heat of day, the rlcayde, v/ith nine of his cava- liers, was going the rounds of the mountains in quest of adventures. They rode silently and cautiously, for k was a night to tempt others abroad, and they mighi; be r -erheard by Moor- ish scout or traveller ; they kept along ravines and hollow ways, moreover, lest they should be betrayed by the glittering of the moon upon Ytecollectiottd of tbe Bibambra 373 their armor. Coming to a fork in the road, the alcayde ordered five of his cavaliers to take one of the branches, while he, with the remain- ing four, would take the other. Should either party be in danger, the blast of a horn was to be the signal for succor. The party of five had not proceeded far, when, in passing through a defile, they heard the voice of a man sing- ing. Concealing themselves among trees, they awaited his approach. The moon, which left the grove in shadow, shone full upon his per- son, as he slowly advanced, mounted on a dapple gray steed of powerful frame and gen- erous spirit, ari magnificently caparisoned. He was a Moorish cavalier of noble demeanor and graceful carriage, arrayed in a marlota, or tunic, and an albomoz of crimson damask fringed with gold. His Tunisian turban, of many folds, was of stripped silk and cotton, bordered with a golden fringe ; at his girdle hung a Damascus scim- ^.r, with loops and tassels of silk and gold. On his left arm he bore an ample target, and his right hand grasped a long, double-pointed, lance. Apparently dreaming of no danger, he sat negligently on his steed, gazing on the moon, and singing, with a sweet and manly voice, a Moorish love-ditty. Just opposite the grove where the cavaliers were v'^oncealed, the horse turned aside to drink 374 'Recol(ect I) e: :^:> IMAGE EVALUATION TEST TARGET (MT-3) 1.0 I.I |so '""^™ M^H Photographic Sciences Corporation ||L25 ||l.4 1 1.6 M 6" ► SJ \ RV \\ >"^V° ^.1>' <^ 23 WEST MAIN STREET WEBSTER, N.Y. 14380 (716) 872-4S03 *1 378 'RecoUectfona ot tbe Blbambra 1 ^? ■■ . I' 'I story ; and this I am moved to do by the sym- pathy you have manifested towards me, and the magnanimity that shines through all your actions. ** Know then, that my name is Abendaraez, and that I am of the noble but unfortunate line of the Abencerrages. You have doubtless heard of the destruction that fell upon our race. Charged with treasonable designs, of which they were entirely innocent, many of them were beheaded, the rest banished ; so that not an Abencerrage was permitted to remain in Granada, excepting my father and my uncle, whose innocence was proved, even to the satis- faction of their persecutors. It was decreed,; however, that, should they have children, the sons should be educated at a distance from Granada, and the daughters should be married out of the kingdom. " Conformably to this decree, I was sent, while yet an infant, to be reared in the fortress of Cartama, the alcayde of which was an ancient friend of my father. He had no chil- dren, and received me into his family as his own child, treating me with the kindness and affection of a father ; and I grew up in the belief that he really was such. A few years afterward, his wife gave birth to a daughter, but his tenderness toward me continued undi- 'Recollections or tbe Blbambra 379 minished. I thus grew up with Xarisa, for sb the infant daughter of the alcayde was called, as her own brother. I beheld her charms un- folding, as it were, leaf by leaf, like the morning rose, each moment disclosing fresh sweetness and beauty, and t)iought the growing passion which I felt for her was mere fraternal affection. ** At length one day I accidently overheard a conversation between the alcayde and his confidential domestic, of which I found myself the subject. *' In this I learnt the secret of my real paren- tage, which the alcayde had withheld from nie as long as possible, through reluctance to in- form me of my being of a proscribed and unlucky race. It was time now, he thought, to apprise me of the truth, that I might adopt a career in life. "I retired with'' at letting it be perceived that I had overheard the conversation. The intelligence it conveyed would have over- whelmed me at an earlier period ; but now the intimation that Xarisa was not my sister, oper- ated like magic. In an instant the brotherly affection with which my heart at times had throbbed almost to excess, was transformed into ardent love. " I sought Xarisa in the garden, where I found her in a bower of jessamines, arranging m f li 38o Vecollectlons ot tbe Blbambra her beautiful hair in the mirror of a crystal fountain. I ran to her with open arms, and was received with a sister's embraces ; upbraid- ing me for leaving her so long alone. ** We seated ourselves by the fountain, and I hastened to reveal the secret conversation I had overheard. *' * Alas ! * cried she, * then our happiness is at an end ! * ** * How ! ' cried I, * wilt thou cease to love me because I am not thy brother? * " * Alas, no ! * replied she, gently withdraw- ing from my embrace, * but when it is once made known "'e are not brother and sister, we shall no longer be permitted to be thus always together.* "In fact, from that moment our intercourse took a new character. We met often at the fountain among the jessamines, but Xarisa no longer advanced with open arms to meet me. She became reserved and silent, and would blush, and cast down her eyes, when I ^ ed myself beside her. My heart became & ^.ey to the thousand doubts and fears that ever at- tend upon true love. Restless and uneasy, I looked back with regret to our unreserved in- tercourse when we supposed ourselves brother and sister ; yet I would not have had the rela- tionship true, for the world. ** While matters were in this state between vv 'Recollections of tbe Blbainl)ra 881 US, an order came from the King of Granada for the alcayde to take command of the fortress of Coyn, on the Christian frontier. He pre- pared to remove, with all his family, but sig- nified that I should remain at Cartama. I declared that I could not be parted from Xarisa. * That is the very cause,' said he, ' why I leave thee behind. It is time, Abendaraez, thou shouldest know the secret of thy birth. Thou art no son of mine, neither is Xarisa thy sister.* * I know it all,' exclaimed I, * and I love her with tenfold the affection of a brother. You have brought us up together ; you have made us necessary to each other's happiness ; our hearts have entwined themselves with our growth ; do not tear them asunder. Fill up the measure of your kindness ; be indeed a father to me, by giving me Xarisa for my wife.' "The brow of the alcayde darkened as I spoke. * Have I then been deceived ? ' said he. * Have those nurtured in my very bosom been conspiring against me ? Is this your re- turn for my paternal tenderness? — ^to beguile the affections of my child, and teach her to deceive her father ? It would have been cause enough to refuse thee the hand of my daughter, that thou wert of a proscribed race, who can never approach the walls of Granada; this, however, I might have passed over, but never 383 'Rccollectiona ot tbe BlbamC;a will I give my daughter to a man who has endeavored to win her from me by deception. ' *• All my attempts to vindicate myself and Xarisa were unavailing. I retired in anguish from his presence, and seeking Xarisa, told her of this blow, which was worse than death to me. * Xarisa,' said I ' we part forever ! I shall never see thee more ! Thy father will guard thee rigidly. Thy beauty and his wealth will soon attract some happier rival, and I shall be forgotten ! * "Xarisa reproached my want of faith, and promised eternal constancy, I still doubted and desponded, until, moved by my anguish and despair, she agreed to a secret union. Our espousals made, we parted, with a promise on her part to send me word from Coyn, should her father absent himself from the fortress. The very day after our secret nuptials, I beheld the whole train of the alcayde depart from Cartama, nor would he admit me to his pres- ence, nor permit me to bid farewell to Xarisa. I remained at Cartama, somewhat pacified in spirit by our secret bond of unioxi ; but every- thing around fed my passion and reminded me of Xarisa. I saw the window at which I had so often beheld her. I wandered through the apartment she had inhabited ; the chamber in which she had slept. I visited the bower of VecoUecttone of tbe Blbambra 383 jessamines, and lingered beside the fountain in which she, had delighted. Everything re- called her to my imagination, and filled my heart with melancholy. "At length a confidential servant arrived with a letter from her, informing me that her father was to depart that day for Granada, on a short absence, inviting me to hasten to Coyn, describing a secret portal at which I should apply, and the signal by which I would obtain admittance. ** If ever you have loved, most valiant alcaj'de, you may judge of my transport. That very night I arrayed myself in gallant attire, to pay due honor to my bride, and arm- ing myself against any casual attack, issued forth privately from Cartama. You know the rest, and by what sad fortune of war I find my- self, instead of a happy bridegroom in the nuptial bower of Coyn, vanquished, wounded, and a prisoner within the walls of AUora. The term of absence of the father of Xarisa is nearly expired. Within three days he will re- turn to Coyn, and our meeting will no longer be possible. Judge then, whether I grieve without cause and whether I may not well be excused for showing impatience under confinement." Don Rodrigo was greatly moved by this recital, for, though more used to rugged war 3H 'Recollectiona et tbe aibambra than scenes of amorous softness, he was of a kind and generous nature. " Abendaraez," said he, *' I did not seek thy confidence to gratify an idle curiosity. It grieves me much that the j^ood fortune which delivered thee into my hands, should have marred so fair an enterprise. Give me thy faith, as a true knight, to return prisoner to my castle, within three days, and I will grant thee permission to accomplish thy nuptials.*' The Abencerrage, in a transport of gratitude^ would have thrown himself at his feet, but the alcayde prevented him. Calling in his cava- liers, he took Abendaraez by the right hand, in their presence, exclaiming solemnly, '* You promise, on the faith of a cavalier, to return to my castle of AUora within three days, and render yourself my prisoner." Then, said the alcayde, "Go! and may good fortune attend you. If you require any safeguard, I and my cavaliers are ready to be your companions," The Abencerrage kissed the hand of the alcaj'de, in grateful acknowledgment. "Give me, said he, *' my own armor and my steed, and I require no guard. It is not likely that I shall again meet with so valorous a foe.*' The shades of night had fallen, when the tramp of the dapple-gray steed resounded over VecoIIcctlons ot tbe Bibambra 385 the drawbridge, and immediately afterwards, the light clatter of hoofs along the road bespoke the fleetness with which the youthful lover hastened to his bride. It was deep night when the Moor arrived at the castle of Coyn. He silently and cautiously walked his panting steed under its dark walls, and having nearly passed round them, came to the portal denoted by Xarisa. He paused, looked round to see that he was not observed, and knocked three times with the butt of his lance. In a little while the portal was timidly unclosed by the duenna of Xarisa. "Alas! Sefior," said she, *'what has detained you thus long? Every night have I watched for you ; and my lady is sick at heart with doubt and anxiety." The Abencerrage hung his lance and shield and scimitar against the wall, and followed the duenna, with silent steps up a winding stair- case, to the apartment of Xarisa. Vain would be the attempt to describe the raptures of that meeting. Time flew too swiftly, and th. Abencerrage had nearly forgotten, until too late, his promise to return a prisoner to the alcayde of AUora. The recollection of it came to him with a pang, and woke him from his dream of bliss. Xarisa saw his altered looks, and heard with alarm his stifled sighs ; but her countenance brightened when she heard the VOL. II.- 386 'RecoUectione o( tbe Blbambra • 1 cause. " I^et not thy spirit be cast down,*' said she, throwing her white arms around him. " I have the keys of my father's treasures ; send ransom more than enough to satisfy the Christian, and remain with me." ** No," said Abendaraez, " I have given my word to return in person, and, like a true knight, must fulfil my promise. After that, fortune must do with me as it pleases." "Then," said Xarisa, *' I will accompan)'' thee. Never shalt thou return a prisoner, and I remain at liberty." The Abencerrage was transported with joy at this new proof of devotion in his beautiful bride. All preparations were speedily made for their departure. Xarisa mounted behind the Moor, on his powerful steed ; they left the castle walls before daybreak, nor did they pause, until they arrived at the gate of the castle of AUora. Alighting in the court, the Abencerrage sup- ported the steps of his trembling bride, who remained closely veiled, into the presence of Rodrigo de Narvaez, '* Behold, valiant al- cayde!" said he, ** the way in which an Abencerrage keeps his word. I promised to return to thee a prisoner, but I deliver two captives into thy power. Behold Xarisa, and judge whether I grieved without reason over ItccolUctiond of tbf Blbambra 3*: the loss of such a treasure. Receive us as thine own, for I confide my life and her honor to thy hands." The alcayde was lost in admiration of the beauty of the lady, and the noble spirit of the Moor. " I know not," said he, " which of you surpasses the other ; but I know that my castle is graced and honored by your presence. Consider it your own, while you deign to reside with me." For several days the lovers remained at Allora, happy in each other's love, and in the friendship of the alcayde. The latter wrote a letter to the Moorish king of Granada, relating the whole event, extolling the valor and good faith of the Abencerrage, and craving for him the royal countenance. The king was moved by the story, and pleased with an opportunity of showing atten- tion to the wishes of a gallant and chivalrous enemy ; for though he had often suffered from the prowess of Don Rodrigo de Narvaez, he admired his heroic character. Calling the al- cayde of Coyn into his presence, he gave him the letter to read. The alcayde turned pale and trembled with rage on the perusal. " Re- strain thine anger," said the king ; *' there is nothing that the alcayde of Allora could ask, that I would not grant, if in my power. Go 388 'Recollections of tbe Blbambra 1 ^ f '■' li t thou to Allora ; pardon thy children ; take them to thy home. I receive this Abencerrage into my favor, and it will be my delight to heap benefits upon you all." The kindling ire of the alcayde was suddenly appeased. He hastened to Allora, and folded his children to his bosom, who would have fallen at his feet. Rodrigo de Narvaez gave liberty to his prisoner without ransom, de- manding merely a promise of his friendship. He accompanied the youthful couple and their father to Coyn, where their nuptials were cele- brated with great rejoicings. When the festivi- ties were over, Don Rodrigo returned to his fortress of Allora. After his departure, the alcayde of Coyn ad- dressed his children : " To your hands," said he, "I confide the disposition of my wealth. One of the first things I charge you, is not to forget the ransom you owe to the alcayde of Allora. His magnanimity you can never re- pay, but you can prevent it from wronging him of his just dues. Give him, moreover, your entire friendship, for he merits it fully, though of a different faith." The Abencerrage thanked him for his propo- sition, which so truly accorded with his own wishes. He took a large sum of gold, and in- closed it in a rich coffer ; and, on his own part, \v. ItecolUcUone oX tbe Blbambra 389 sent six beautiful horses, superbly caparisoned ; with six shields and lances, mounted and em- bossed with gold. The beautiful Xarisa, at the same time, wrote a letter to the alcayde, filled with expressions of gratitude and friend- ship, and sent him a box of fragrant cypress- wood, containing linen of the finest quality, for his person. The alcayde disposed of the pres- ent in a characteristic manner. The horses and armor he shared among the cavaliers who had accompanied him on the night of the skir- mish. The box of cypress- wood and its con- tents he retained, for the sake of the beautiful Xarisa, and sent her, by the hands of the messenger, the sum of gold paid as a ransom, entreating her to receive it as a wedding-pres- ent. This courtesy and magnanimity raised the character of the alcayde Rodrigo de Nar- vaez still higher in the estimation of the Moors, who extolled him as a perfect mirror of chival- ric virtue; and from that time forward there was a continual exchange of good offices between them. Those who would read the foregoing story decked out with poetic grace in the pure Cas- tilian, let them seek it in the Diana of Mon- temayor. THB END. -Ill