THE OREGON TRAIL SKETCHES OF PRAIRIE AND ROCKY-MOUNTAIN LIFE /■» \ A xX^ BT FRANCIS PARKMAN EIGHTH EDITION, KEVISBD BOSTON LITTLE, BROWN, AND COMPANY 1886 Entered accoi-ding to Act of Congress, in the year 1872, by FRANCIS PABKMAN, In the OflBco of the Librarian of Congress at WoshingtCD Univeksity Press: John Wilson & Son, Cambridge. ru THE COMBADE OF A. SUMMER THE FEIEND OF A LIFETIME. QDlNCy ADAMS SaAW. Si.Vf ?f . ^ The " Oregon Trail " is the title under which thia book first appeared. It was afterwards changed by the publisher, and is now restored to the form in which it originally stood in the Knickerbocker Magazine. As the early editions were printed in my absence. I did not correct the proofs, a process doubly necessary, since the book was written from dictation. The necessaj-y corrco- tions have been made in the present edition. PREFACE TO THE FOURTH EDITION. " I ^HE following sketches first appeared in 1847. A summer's adventures of two youths just out of col- lege might well enough be allowed to fall into oblivion, were it not that a certain interest will always attach to the record of that which has passed away never to return. This book is the reflection of forms and conditions of life which have ceased, in great measure, to exist. It mirrors the image of an irrevocable past. I remember that, as we rode by the foot of Pike's Peak, when for a fortnight we met no face of man, my com- panion remarked, in a tone any thing but complacent, that a time would come when those plains would be a grazing country, the buffalo give place to tame cattle, farm-houses be scattered along the water-courses, and wolves, bears, and Indians be numbered among the things that were. We condoled with each other on so melancholy a prospect, but we little thought what the future had in store. We knew that there was more or less gold in the seams of those untrodden mountains ; but we did not foresee that it would build cities in the waste and plant hotels and gambling-houses among the haunts of the grizzly bear. We knew that a few fanatical outcasts were groping their Vlll PREFACE TO THE FOURTH EDITION. way across the plains to seek an asylum from gentile per- secution; but we did not imagine that the polygamous hordes of Mormon would rear a swarming Jerusalem in the bosom of solitude itself. We knew that, more and more, year after year, the trains of emigrant wagons would creep in slow procession towards barbarous Oregon or wild and distant California ; but we did not dream how Commerce and Gold would breed nations along the Pa- cific, the disenchanting screech of the locomotive break the spell of weird mysterious mountains, woman's rights invade the fastnesses of the Arapahoes, and despairing savagery, assailed in front and rear, vail its scalp-locks and feathers before triumphant commonplace. We were no prophets to foresee all this ; and, had we foreseen it, perhaps some perverse regrets might have tempered the ardor of our rejoicing. The wild cavalcade that defiled with me down the gorges of the Black Hills, with its paint and war-plumes, fluttering trophies and savage embroidery, bows, arrows, lances, and shields, will never be seen again. Those who formed it have found bloody graves, or a ghastlier burial in the maws of wolves. The Indian of to-day, armed with a revolver and crowned with an old hat ; cased, possibly, in trousers or muffled in a tawdry shirt, is an Indian still, but an Indian shorn of the picturesqueness which was his most conspicuous merit. The mountain trapper is no more, and the grim ro- mance of his wild, hard life is a memory of the past. As regards the motives which sent us to the mountains, our liking for them would have sufficed ; but, in my case, another incentive was added. I went in great measure PREFACE TO THE FOURTH EDITION. IX as a student, to pi-epare for a literary undertaking of which the plan was already formed, but which, from the force of inexorable circumstances, is still but half accom- plished. It was this that prompted some proceedings on my part, which, without a fixed purpose in view, might be charged with youthful rashness. My business was obser- vation, and I was willing to pay dearly for the opportu- nity of exercising it. Two or three years ago, I made a visit to our guide, the brave and true-hearted Henry Chatillon, at the town of Carondelet, near St. Louis. It was more than twenty years since we had met. Time hung heavy on his hands, as usual with old mountain-men married and established ; his hair was touched with gray, and his face and figure showed tokens of early hardship ; but the manly simplicity of his character was unchanged. He told me that the Indians with whom I had been domesticated, a band of the hated Sioux, had nearly all been killed in fights with the white men. The faithful Deslauriers is, I believe, still living on the frontier of Missouri. The hunter Raymond perished in the snow during Fremont's disastrous passage of the mountains in the winter of 1848. Boston, March 30, 1872. If CONTENTS. OHAPTRB I. The Frontier ... 11. Breaking the Icf .... III. Fort LEAVENWOKTatr . , . IV. "Jumping Off" .... V. The "Big Blue" ... VI. The Platte and the Deseki VII. The Buffalo VIII. Taking French Leave . . IX. Scenes at Fort Laramie X. The War Parties .... XI. Scenes at the Camp . . . XII. Ill-luck xin. Hunting Indians .... XIV. The Ogillallah Village XV. The Hunting Camp . . . XVI. The Trappers XVII. The Black Hills .... XVIII. A Mountain Hunt .... XIX. Passage ok the Mountains . XX. The Lonely Journey . . XXI. The Pueblo and Bent's Fort FAQB 1 10 21 25 87 61 65 80 97 113 137 157 lei ;89 212 237 247 251 264 280 301 Xn CONTENTS. CHAPTER PAOfc XXII. Tete Rodge, the Volunteer 3C9 XXI II. Indian Alarms 315 XXIV. The Chase 827 XXV. The Buffalo Camp 837 XXVI. DowTsr THE Arkansas 854 XXVII. The Skttle.ments 372 THE OREGON THAIL. CHAPTER I. THE FRONTIEB. T AST spring, 1846, was a busy season in the city of -*— ' St. Louis. Not only were emigrants from every part of the country preparing for the journey to Oregon and California, but an unusual number of traders were making ,Td;, their wagons and outfits for Santa F^. The hot L'S TNere crowded, and the gunsmiths and sad- dlers were kept constantly at work in providing arms and equipments for the different parties of travellers. Steam- boats were leaving the levee and passing up the Missouri, crowded with passengers on their way to the frontier. In one of these, the " Radnor," since snagged and lost, my friend and relative, Quincy Adams Shaw, and myself, left St. Louis on the 28th of April, on a tour of curiosity and amusement to the Rocky Mountains. The boat was loaded until the water broke alternately over her guards. Her upper-deck was covered with large wagons of a pe- culiar form, for the Santa F6 trade, and her hold was crammed with goods for the same destination. There were also the equipments and provisions of a party of Oregon emigrants, a band of mules and horses, piles of saddles and harness, and a multitude of nonlescript articles, indispensable on the prairies. Almost hidden 1 2 THE OREGON TRAIL. in this medley was a small French cart, of the sort very appropriately called a " mule-killer," beyond the frontiers, and not far distant a tent, together with a miscellaneous assortment of boxes and barrels. The whole equipage was far from prepossessing in its appearance ; yet, such as it was, it was destined to a long and arduous journey, on which the persevering reader will accompany it. The passengers on board the " Radnor " corresponded with her freight. In her cabin were Santa F6 traders, gamblers, speculators, and adventurers of various de- scriptions, and her steerage was crowded with Oregon emigrants, " mountain men," negroes, and a party of Kanzas Indians, who had been on a visit to St. Louis. Thus laden, the boat struggled upward for seven oi eight days against the rapid current of the Missouri, grating upon snags, and hanging for two or three hours at a time upon sand-bars. We entered the mouth of the Missouri in a drizzling rain, but the weather soon became clear, and showed distinctly the broad and turbid river, with its eddies, its sand-bars, its ragged islands and forest- covered shores. The Missouri is constantly changing its course ; wearing away its banks on one side, while it forms new ones on the other. Its channel is continually shifting. Islands are formed, and then washed away; and while the old forests on one side are undermined and swept off, a young growth springs up from the new soil upon the other. With all these changes, the water is so charged with mud and sand that, in spring, it is perfectly opaque, and in a few minutes deposits a sedi- ment an inch thick in the bottom of a tumbler. The river was now high ; but when we descended in the au- tumn it was fallen very low, and all the secrets of its treacherous shallows were exposed to view. It was fright- ful to see the dead and broken trees, thick-set as a mill- THE FRONTIER. 8 tary abattis, firmly imbedded in the sand, and all pointing down stream, ready to impale any unhappy steamboat that at high water should pass over them. In five or six days we began to see signs of the great western movement that was taking place. Parties of emigrants, with their tents and wagons, were encamped on open spots near the bank, on their way to the common rendezvous at Independence. On a rainy day, near sun- set, we reached the landing of this place, which is some miles from the river, on the extreme frontier of Missouri. The scene was characteristic, for here were represented at one view the most remarkable features of this wild and enterprising region. On the muddy shore stood some thirty or forty dark slavish-looking Spaniards, gazing stupidly out from beneath their broad hats. They were attached to one of the Santa Fe companies, whose wagons were crowded together on the banks above. ±n the midst of these, crouching over a smouldering fire, was a group of Indians, belonging to a remote Mexican tribe. One or two French hunters from the mountains, with their long hair and buckskin dresses, were looking at the boat ; and seated on a log close at hand were three men, witli rifles lying across their knees. The foremost of these, a tall, strong figure, with a clear blue eye and an open, intelli- gent face, might very well represent that race of restless and intrepid pioneers whose axes and rifles have opened a path from the Alleghanies to the western prairies. He was on his way to Oregon, probably a more congenial field to him than any that now remained on this side of the great plains. Early on the next morning we reached Kanzas, about five hundred miles from the mouth of the Missouri. Here we landed, and leaving our equipments in charge of Colo- nel Chick, whose log-house was the substitute for a tavern, 4 THE OREGON TRAIL. we set out in a wagon for Westport, where we hoped to procure mules and horses for the journey. It was a remarkably fresh and beautiful May morning. The woods, through which the miserable road conducted us, were lighted by the bright sunshine and enlivened by a multitude of birds. We overtook on the way our late fellow-travellers, the Kanzas Indians, who, adorned with all their finery, were proceeding homeward at a round pace ; and whatever they might have seemed on board the boat, they made a very striking and picturesque feat^ ure in the forest landscape. Westport was full of Indians, whose little shaggj' ponies were tied by dozens along the houses and fences. Sacs and Foxes, with shaved heads and painted faces, Shawanoes and Delawares, fluttering in calico frocks and turbans, Wyandots dressed like white men, and a few wretched Kanzas wrapped in old blankets, were strolling about the streets, or lounging in and out of the shops and houses. As I stood at the door of the tavern, I saw a remark able-looking personage coming up the street. He had a ruddy face, garnished with the stumps of a bristly red beard and moustache ; on one side of his head was a round cap with a knob at the top, such as Scottish labor- ers sometimes wear ; his coat was of a nondescript form, and made of a gray Scotch plaid, with the fringes hang- ing all about it ; he wore trousers of coarse homespun, and hob-nailed shoes ; and to complete his equipment, a little black pipe was stuck in one corner of his mouth. In this curious attire, I recognized Captain C , of the British army, who, with his brother, and Mr. R , an English gentleman, was bound on a hunting expedition across the continent. I had seen the captain and his companions at St. Louis. They had now been for some THE FRONTIER. time at Westport, making preparations for their departure, and waiting for a reinforcement, since they were too few in number to attempt it alone. They might, it is true, have joined some of the parties of emigrants who were on the point of setting out for Oregon and CaUfornia ; but they professed great disinclination to have any con- nection with the " Kentucky fellows." The captain now urged it upon us, that we should join forces and proceed to the mountains in company. Feel- ing no greater partiality for the society of the emigrants than they did, we thought the arrangement a good one, and consented to it. Our future fellow-travellers had installed themselves in a little log-house, where we found them surrounded by saddles, harness, guns, pistols, tele- scopes, knives, and in short their complete appointments for the prairie. R , who had a taste for natural his- tory, sat at a table stuffing a woodpecker ; the brother of the captain, who was an Irishman, was splicing a trail-rope on the floor. The captain pointed out, with much com- placency, the different articles of their outfit. " You see," said he, " that we are all old travellers. I am convinced that no party ever went upon the prairie better provided." The hunter whom they had employed, a surly-looking Canadian, named Sorel, and their muleteer, an American ruffian from St. Louis, were lounging about the building. In a little log stable close at hand were their horses and mules, selected with excellent judgment by the captain. We left them to complete their arrangements, while we pushed our own to all convenient speed. The emigrants, for whom our friends professed such contempt, were encamped on the prairie about eight or ten miles distant, to the number of a thousand or more, and new parties were constantly passing out from Independence to join fchem. They were in great confusion, holding meetings, 6 THE OREGON TRAIL. passing resolutions, and drawing up regulations, but unable to unite in the choice of leaders to conduct them across the prairie. Being at leisure one day, I rode over to Independence. The town was crowded. A multitude of shops had sprung up to furnish the emigrants and Santa Fe traders with necessaries for their journey ; and there was an incessant hammering and banging from a dozen blacksmiths' sheds, where the heavy wagons were being repaired, and the horses and oxen shod. The streets were thronged with men, horses, and mules. While I was in the town, a train of emigrant wagons from Illinois passed through, to join the camp on the prairie, and stopped in the principal street. A multi- tude of healthy children's faces were peeping out from under the covers of the wagons. Here and there a buxom damsel was seated on horseback, holding over her sunburnt face an old umbrella or a parasol, once gaudy enough, but now miserably faded. The men, very sober- looking countrymen, stood about their oxen ; and as I passed I noticed three old fellows, who, with their long whips in their hands, were zealously discussing the doc- trine of regeneration. The emigrants, however, are not' all of this stamp. Among them are some of the vilest outcasts in the country. I have often perplexed myself to divine the various motives that give impulse to this migration ; but whatever they may be, whether an insane hope of a better condition in life, or a desire of shaking off restraints of law and society, or mere restlessness, certain it is, that multitudes bitterly repent the journe}, and, after they have reached the land of promise, are happy enough to escape from it. In the course of seven or eight days we had brought our preparations nearly to a close. Meanwhile our friends had completed theirs, and, becoming tired of Westport, THE FRONTIER. 7 they told us that they would set out in advance, and wait at the crossing of the Kanzas till we should come up Accordingly R , and the muleteer went forward with the wagon and tent, while the captain and his brother, together with Sorel, and a trapper named Boisverd, who had joined them, followed with the band of horses. The commencement of the journey was ominous, for the cap- tain was scarcely a mile from Westport, riding along in state at the head of his party, leading his intended buffalo horse by a rope, when a tremendous thunder-storm came on and drenched them all to the skin. They hurried on to reach the place, about seven miles ofif, where R , was to have had the camp in readiness to receive them. But this prudent person, when he saw the storm approaching, had selected a sheltered giade in the woods where he pitched his tent, and was sipping a comfortable cup of coffee while the captain galloped for miles beyond through the rain to look for him. At length the storm cleared away, and the sharp-eyed trapper succeeded in discovering his tent ; R , had by this time finished his coffee, and was seated on a bufifalo-robe smoking his pipe. The cap- tain was one of the most easy-tempered men in existence, so he bore his ill-luck with great composure, shared the dregs of the coffee with his brother, and lay down to sleep in his wet clothes. We ourselves had our share of the deluge. We were leading a pair of mules to Kanzas when the storm broke. Such sharp and incessant flashes of lightning, such stun- ning and continuous thunder I had never known before. The woods were completely obscured by the diagonal sheets of rain that fell with a heavy roar, and rose in spray from the ground, and the streams swelled so rapidly tnat we could hardly ford them. At length, looming tlirough the rain, we saw the log-house of Colonel Chick, 8 THE OREGON TRAIL. who received us with his usual bland hospitality ; while his wife, who, though a little soured and stiffened by a long course of camp-meetings, was not behind him in good-will, supplied us with the means of bettering our drenched and bedraggled condition. The storm clearing away at about sunset opened a noble prospect from the porch of the colonel's house which stands upon a high hill. The sun streamed from the breaking clouds upon the swift and angry Missouri, and on the vast expanse of forest that stretched from its banks back to the distant bluffs. Returning on the next day to Westport we received a message from the captain, who had ridden back to deliver it in person, but finding that we were in Kanzas, had intrusted it with an acquaintance of his named Vogel, who kept a small grocery and liquor shop. Whiskey, by the way, circulates more freely in Westport than is alto- gether safe in a place where every man carries a loaded pistol in his pocket. As we passed this establishment we saw Vogel' s broad German face thrust from his door. He said he had something to tell us, and invited us to take a dram. Neither his liquor nor his message were very palatable. The captain had returned to give us notice that R , who assumed the direction of his party, had determined upon another route from that agreed upon between us ; and instead of taking the course of the traders, had resolved to pass northward by Fort Leavenworth, and follow the path marked out by the dragoons in their expedition of last summer. To adopt such a plan without consulting us, we looked upon as a high-handed proceeding ; but suppressing our dissatisfac- tion as well as we could, we made up our minds to join them at Fort Leavenworth, where they were to wait for us. THE FRONTIER. 9 Accordingly, our preparation being now complete, we attempted one fine morning to begin our journey. The first step was an unfortunate one. No sooner were our animals put in harness than the shaft-mule reared and plunged, burst ropes and straps, and nearly flung the cart into the Missouri. Finding her wholly uncontrollable, we exchanged her for another, with which we were furnished by our friend Mr. Boone, of Westport, a grandson of Daniel Boone, the pioneer. This foretaste of prairie experience was very soon followed by another. Westport was scarcely out of sight when we encountered a deep muddy gully, of a species that afterward became but too familiar to us, and here for the space of an hour or more the cart stuck fast. CHAPTER II. BREAKING THE ICE. TT? MERGING from the mud-holes of Westport, wo pur- -'—' sued our way for some time aloug the narrow track, in the checkered sunshine and shadow of the woods, till at length, issuing into the broad liglit, we left behind ua the farthest outskirts of the great forest, that once spread from the western plains to the shore of the Atlantic. Looking over an intervening belt of bushes, we saw the green, ocean-like expanse of prairie, stretching swell beyond swell to the horizon. It was a mild, calm spring day ; a day when one is more disposed to musing and reverie than to action, and the softest part of his nature is apt to gain the upper hand. I rode in advance of the party, as we passed through the bushes, and, as a nook of green grass offered a strong temptation, I dismounted and lay down there. All the trees and saplings were in flower, or bud- ding into fresh leaf ; the red clusters of the maple-blos- soms and the rich flowers of the Indian apple were there in profusion ; and I was half inclined to regret leaving behind the land of gardens, for the rude and stern scenes of the prairie and the mountains. Meanwhile the party came in sight out of the bushes. Foremost rode Henry Chatillon, our guide and hunter, a fine athletic figure, mounted on a hardy gray Wyandot pony. He wore a white blanket-coat, a broad hat of felt, BREAKmG THE ICE. 11 moccasins, and trowsers of deer-skin, ornamented along the seams with rows of long fringes. His knife was stuck in his belt ; his bullet-pouch and powder-horn hung at hia side, and his rifle lay before him, resting against the high pommel of his saddle, which, like all his equipments, had seen hard service, and was much the worse for wear. Shaw followed close, mounted on a little sorrel horse, and leading a larger animal by a rope. His outfit, which rescnbled mine, had been provided with a view to use rather than ornament. It consisted of a plain, black Spanish saddle, with holsters of heavy pistols, a blanket rolled up behind, and the trail-rope attached to his horse'a neck hanging coiled in front. He carried a double-bar- relled smooth-bore, while I had a rifle of some fifteen pounds weight. At that time our attire, though far from elegant, bore some marks of civilization, and offered a very favorable contrast to the inimitable shabbiness ol' our appearance on the return journey. A red flannel shirt, belted around the waist like a frock, then consti- tuted our upper garment ; moccasins had supplanted our failing boots ; and the remaining essential portion of our attire consisted of an extraordinary article, manufactured by a squaw out of smoked buckskin. Our muleteer, Des- lauriers, brought up the rear with his cart, wading ankle^ deep in the mud, alternately puffing at his pipe, and ejac- ulating in his prairie patois, '■'' Sacre enfant de ffarce/" as one of the mules would seem to recoil before some abyss of unusual profundity. The cart was of the kind that one may see by scores around the market-place at Quebec, and had a white covering to protect the articles within. These were our provisions and a tent, with am- munition, blankets, and presents for the Indians. We were in all four men with eight animals ; for be Bides tlie spare horses led by Shaw and myself, an addi 12 THE OREGON TRAIL. donal mule was driven along with us as a reserve in case of accident. After this summing up of our forces, it may not be amiss to glance at tlie characters of the two men who accompanied us. Deslauriers was a Canadian, with all the characteristics of the true Jean Baptiste. Neither fatigue, exposure, nor hard labor could ever impair his cheerfulness and gayety, or his politeness to his bourgeois ; and when night came, he would sit down by the fire, smoke his pipe, and tell stories with the utmost contentment. The prairie was his element. Henry Chatillon was of a different stamp, "When we were at St. Louis, several gentlemen of the Fur Company had kindly offered to procure for us a hunter and guide suited for our purposes, and on coming one afternoon to the ofl&ce, we found there a tall and exceedingly well-dressed man, with a face so open and frank that it attracted our notice at once. We were surprised at being told that it was he who wished to guide us to the mountains. He was born in a little French town near St. Louis, and from the age of fifteen years had been constantly in the neighborhood of the Rocky Moun- tains, employed for the most part by the company, to sup- ply their forts with buffalo meat. As a hunter, he had but one rival in the whole region, a man named Simoneau, with whom, to the honor of both of them, he was on terms of the closest friendship. He had arrived at St. Louis the day before, from the mountains, where he had been for four years ; and he now asked only to go and spend a day with his mother, before setting out on an- other expedition. His age was about thirty ; he was six feet high, and very powerfully and gracefully moulded. The prairies had been his school ; he could neither read noi' write, but he had a natural refinement and delicacy BBEAKrS'G THE ICE. 13 of mind, such as is rare even in women. His manlv face ■was a mirror of uprightness, simplicitv, and kindness of heart : he had, moreover, a keen perception of character, and a tact that ■would preserve him from flagrant error in any society. Henrv had not the restless energy of an Anglo-American. He was content to take things as he found them ; and his chief fault arose from an excess of easy generosity, not conducive to thriving in the world. Yet it was commonly remarked of him, that whatever he might choose to do with what belonged to himself, the property of others was always safe in his hands. His bravery was as much celebrated in the mountains as his skill in hunting ; but it is characteristic of him that in a country -where the rifle is the chief arbiter between man and man, he was very seldom involved in quar- rels. Once or twice, indeed, his quiet good nature had been mistaken and presumed upon, but the consequences of the error were such, that no one -was ever known to .epeat it. Xo better evidence of the intrepidity of his temper could be asked, than the common report that he had killed more than thirty grizzly bears. He was a proof of what unaided nature will sometimes do. I have never, in the city or in the wilderness, met a better man than my true-hearted friend, Hemy Chatillon. We were soon free of the woods and bushes, ana fairly upon the broad prairie. Now and then a Shawanoe passed us, riding his little shaggy pony at a " lope ; " his calico shirt, his gaudy sash, and the gay handkercliief bound aroimd his snaky hair, fluttering in the wind. At noon we stopped to rest not far from a little creek, replete with frogs and young turtles. There had been an Indian encampment at the place, and the framework of the lodges still remained, enabling us very easily to gam a shelter from tlie sun, by merely spreading one or two 14 THE OREGON TRAIL. blankets over them. Thus shaded, we sat upon our sad- dles, and Shaw for the first time lighted his favorite Indian pipe ; while Deslauriers was squatted over a hot bed of coals, shading his eyes with one hand, and hold- ing a little stick in the other, with which he regulated the hissing contents of the frying-pan. The horses were turned to feed among the scattered bushes of a low oozy meadow. A drowsy spring-like sultriness pervaded the air, and the voices of ten thousand young frogs and insects, just awakened into life, rose in varied chorus from the creek and the meadows. Scarcely were we seated when a visitor approached. Tliis was an old Kanzas Indian ; a man of distinction, if one might judge from his dress. His head was shaved and painted red, and from the tuft of hair remaining on the crown dangled several eagle's feathers, and the tails of two or three rattlesnakes. His cheeks, too, were daubed with vermilion ; his ears were adorned with green glass pendants; a collar of grizzly bears' claws surrounded his neck, and several large necklaces of wam- pum hung on his breast. Having shaken us by the hand with a grunt of salutation, the old man, dropping his red blanket from his shoulders, sat down cross-legged on the ground. We offered him a cup of sweetened water, at which he ejaculated " Good ! " and was beginning to tell us how great a man he was, and how many Pawnees he had killed, when suddenly a motley concourse appeared wading across the creek towards us. They filed past in rapid succession, men, women and children : some were on horseback, some on foot, but all were alike squalid and wretched. Old squaws, mounted astride of shaggy, meagre little ponies, with perhaps one or two snake-eyed children seated behind them, clinging to their tattered blankets ; tall lank young men on foot, with bows and BREAKING THE ICE. 15 arrows in their hands ; and girls whose native ugliness not all the charms of glass beads and scarlet cloth could disguise, made up the procession ; although here and there was a man who, like our visitor, seemed to hold some rank in this respectable community. They were the dregs of the Kanzas nation, who, while their betters were gone to hunt the buffalo, had left the village on a begging expedition to Westport. When this ragamuffin horde had passed, we caught our horses, saddled, harnessed, and resumed our journey. Fording the creek, the low roofs of a number of rude buildings appeared, rising from a cluster of groves and woods on the left ; and riding up through a long lane, amid a profusion of wild roses and early spring flowers, we found the log-church and school-houses belonging to the Methodist Shawanoe Mission. The Indians were on the point of gathering to a religious meeting. Some scores of them, tall men in half-civilized dress, were seated on wooden benches under the trees ; while their horses were tied to the sheds and fences. Their chief, Parks, a remarkably large and athletic man, had just arrived from Westport, where he owns a trading estab- lishment. Beside this, he has a large farm and a con- siderable number of slaves. Indeed the Shawanoes have made greater progress in agriculture than any other tribe on the Missouri frontier ; and both in appearance and in character form a marked contrast to our late acquaintance, the Kanzas. A few hours' ride brought us to the banks of the river Kanzas. Traversing the woods that lined it, and plough- ing through the deep sand, we encamped not far from the bank, at the Lower Delaware crossing. Our tent was erected for the first time, on a meadow close to the woods, and the camp preparations being complete, we began to 16 THE OREGON TRAIL. think of supper. An old Delaware woman, of some three hundred pounds weight, sat in the porch of a little log- house, close to the water, and a very pretty half-breed girl was engaged, under her superintendence, in feeding a large flock of turkeys that were fluttering and gobbling about the door. But no offers of money, or even of tobacco, could induce her to part with one of her favorites : so I took my rifle, to see if the woods or the river could fur- nish us any thing. A multitude of quails were plain- tively whistling in the meadows ; but nothing appropriate to the rifle was to be seen, except three buzzards, seated on the spectral limbs of an old dead sycamore, that thrust itself out over the river from the dense sunny wall of fresh foliage. Their ugly heads were drawn down between their shoulders, and they seemed to luxuriate in the soft sunshine that was pouring from the west. As they offered no epicurean temptations, I refrained from disturbing their enjoyment ; but contented myself with admiring the calm beauty of the sunset, — for the river, eddying swiftly in deep purple shadows between the impending woods, formed a wild but tranquillizing scene. When I returned to the camp, I found Shaw and an old Indian seated on the ground in close conference, pass- ing the pipe between them. The old man was explain- ing that he loved the whites, and had an especial partiality for tobacco. Deslauriers was arranging upon the ground our service of tin cups and plates ; and as otlier viands were not to be had, he set before us a repast of biscuit and bacon, and a large pot of coffee. Unsheathing our kniveg, we attacked it, disposed of the greater part, and tossed the residue to the Indian. Meanwhile our horses, now hobbled for the first time, stood among the trees, with their fore-legs tied together, in great disgust and astonishment. They seemed by no means to relish BREAKING THE ICE. 17 this foretaste of what awaited them. Mine, in partic- ular, had conceived a mortal aversion to the prairie life. One of them, christened Hendrick, an animal whose strength and hardihood were his only merits, and who yielded to nothing but the cogent arguments of the whip, looked toward us with an indignant countenance, as if he meditated avenging his wrongs with a kick. The other, Pontiac, a good horse, though of plebeian lineage, stood with his head drooping and his mane hanging about his eyes, with the grieved and sulky air of a lubberly boy sent off to school. His forebodings were but too just ; for when I last heard from him, he was under the lash of an Ogillallah brave, on a war party against the Crows. As it grew dark and the voices of the whippoorwills succeeded the whistle of the quails, we removed our saddles to the tent to serve as pillows, spread our blankets upon the ground, and prepared to bivouac for the first time that season. Each man selected the place in the tent which he was to occupy for the journey. To Deslau- riers, however, was assigned the cart into which he could creep in wet weather, and find a much better shelter than his bourgeois enjoyed in the tent. The river Kanzas at this point forms the boundary line between the country of the Shawanoes and that of the Delawares. We crossed it on the following day, rafting over our horses and equipments with much difficulty, and unlading our cart in order to make our way up the steep ascent on the farther bank. It was a Sunday morning ; warm, tranquil and bright ; and a perfect stillness reigned over the rough inclosures and neglected fields of the Delawares, except the ceaseless hum and chirruping of myriads of insects. Now and then an Indian rode past on his way to the meeting-house, or, through the dilapi- 18 THE OREGON TRAIL. dated entrance of some shattered log-house, an old woman might be discerned enjoying all the luxury of idleness. There was no village bell, for the Delawares have none ; and yet upon that forlorn and rude settlement was the same spirit of Sabbath repose and tranquillity as in some New England village among the mountains of New Hampshire, or the Vermont woods. A military road led from this point to Fort Leaven- worth, and for many miles the farms and cabins of the Delawares were scattered at short intervals on either hand. The little rude structures of logs erected usually on the borders of a tract of woods made a picturesque feature in the landscape. But the scenery needed no foreign aid. Nature had done enough for it ; and the alternation of rich green prairies and groves that stood in clusters, or lined the banks of the numerous little streams, had all the softened and polished beauty of a region that has been for centuries under the hand of man. At that early season, too, it was in the height of its freshness. The woods were flushed with th e red buds of the maple ; there were frequent flowering shrubs unknown in tlie east ; and the green swells of the prairie were thickly fitudded with blossoms. Encamping near a spring, by the side of a hill, we resumed our journey in the morning, and early in the afternoon were within a few miles of Fort Leavenworth. The road crossed a stream densely bordered with trees, and running in the bottom of a deep woody hollow. We were about to descend into it when a wild and confused procession appeared, passing through the water beiow, and coming up the steep ascent towards us. We stopped to let them pass. They were Delawares, just returned from a hunting expedition. All, both men and women, wej'e mounted on horseback, and drove along with them JBREAKING THE ICE. 19 a considerable number of pack-mules, laden with the furs they had taken, together with the buffalo-robes, kettles, and other articles of their travelling equipment, which, as well as their clothing and their weapons, had a worn and dingy look, as if they had seen hard service of late. At the rear of the party was an old man, who, as he came up, stopped his horse to speak to us. He rode a tough shaggy pony, with mane and tail well knotted with burs, and a rusty Spanish bit in its mouth, to wliich, by way of reins, was attached a string of raw hide. His saddle, robbed probably from a Mexican, had no covering, being merely a tree of the Spanish form, with a piece of grizzly bear's skin laid over it, a pair of rude wooden stir- rups attached, and, in the absence of girth, a thong of hide passing around the horse's belly. The rider's dark features and keen snaky eye were unequivocally Indian. He wore a buckskin frock, which, like his fringed leg- gings, was well polished and blackened by grease and long service, and an old handkerchief was tied around his head. Resting on the saddle before him lay his rifle, a weapon in the use of which the Delawares are skilful, thougli, from its weight, the distant prairie Indians are too lazy to carry it. " Who's your chief? " he immediately inquired. Henry Chatillon pointed to us. The old Delaware fixed his eyes intently upon us for a moment, and then sententiously remarked, — " No good ! Too young ! " With this flattering com- ment he left us and rode after his people. This tribe, the Delawares, once the peaceful allies of William Penn, the tributaries of the conquering Iroquois, are now the most adventurous and dreaded warriors upon the prairies. They make war upon remote tribes, the very names of which were unknown to their fathers in 20 THE OREGON TRAIL. their ancient seats in Pennsylvania, and they push the&e new quarrels with true Indian rancor, sending out their war-parties as far as the Rocky Mountains, and into the Mexican territories. Thoir neighbors and former confed- erates, the Shawanoes, who are tolerable farmers, are in a prosperous condition; but the Delawares dwindle every year, from the number of men lost in their warlike expe- ditions. Soon after leaving this party we saw, stretching on the right, the forests that follow the course of the Missouri, and the deep woody channel through which at this point it runs. At a distance in front were the white barracks of Fort Leavenworth, just visible through the trees upon an eminence above a bend of the river. A wide green meadow, as level as a lake, lay between us and the Mis- souri, and upon this, close to a line of trees that bordered a little brook, stood the tent of the Captain and his com panions, with their horses feeding around it ; but they themselves were invisible. Wright, their muleteer, was there, seated on the tongue of the wagon, repairing his harness. Boisverd stood cleaning his rifle at the door of the tent, and Sorel lounged idly about. On closer exam- ination, liowever, we discovered the Captain's brother, Jack, sitting in the tent, at his old occupation of splicing trail-ropes. He welcomed us in his broad Irish brogue, and said that his brother was fishing in the river, and R gone to the garrison. They returned before sun- set. Meanwhile we pitched our own tent not far off, and after supper a council was held, in which it was resolved to remain one day at Fort Leavenworth, and on the next to bid a final adieu to the frontier, or, in the phraseology of the region, to "jump off." Our deliberations were conducted by the ruddy light from a distant swell of the prairie where the long dry grass of last summer was od fire. CHAPTER III. FORT LEAVENWORTH. /^N the next morning we rode to Fort Leavenworth. ^-^ Colonel, now General Kearney, to whom I had had the honor of an introduction when at St. Louis, was just arrived, and received us at his quarters with the courtesy habitual to him. Fort Leavenworth is in fact no fort, being without defensive works, except two block-houses. No rumors of war had as yet disturbed its tranquillity. In the square grassy area, surrounded by barracks and the quarters of the officers, the men were passing and repassing, or lounging among the trees ; although not many weeks afterwards it presented a different scene ; for here the offscourings of the frontier were congregated for the expedition against Santa Fd. Passing through the garrison, we rode toward the Kickapoo village, five or six miles beyond. The path, a rather dubious and uncertain one, led us along the ridge of liigh bluffs that border the Missouri ; and, by looking to txie right or to the left, we could enjoy a strange con- trast of scenery. On the left stretched the prairie, rising into swells and undulations, thickly sprinkled with groves, or gracefully expanding into wide grassy basins, of miles in extent ; while its curvatures, swelling against the hori- zon, were often surmounted by lines of sunny woods ; a scene to which the freshness of the season and the peculiar mellowness of the atmosphere gave additional softnesa. 2 "J THE OREGON TRAIL. Below US. on the right, was a tract of ragged and brokeu woods. We could look down on the tops of the trees, some living and some dead ; some erect, others leaning at every angle, aui others piled in masses together by the passage of a hurricane. Beyond their extreme verge the turbid waters of the Missouri were discernible through the boughs, rolling powerfully along at the foot of the woody decUvities on its farther bank. Tlie piith soon after led inland ; and, as we crossed an open meadow, we saw a cluster of buildings on a rising ground before us, with a crowd of people surrounding them. They were the storehouse, cottage, and stables of the Kickapoo trader s establishment. Just at that mo- ment, as it chanced, he was beset with half the Indiana of the settlement. They had tied their wretched, neg- lected little ponies by dozens along the fences and out- houses, and were either lounging about the place, or crowding into the trading-house. Here were faces of various colors : red, green, white, and black, curiously intermingled and disposed over the visage in a variety of patterns. Calico shirts, red and blue blankets, brass ear-rings, wampum necklaces, appeared in profusion. The trader was a blue-eyed, open-faced man, who neither in his manners nor his appearance betrayed any of the roughness of the frontier ; though just at present he was obliged to keep a lynx eye on his customers, who, men and women, were climbing on his counter, and seating themselves among his boxes and bales. The village itself was not far off, and suflSeientlj illus- traied the condition of its unfortunate and self^bandoned occupants. Fancy to yourself a little swift stream, work- ing its devious way down a woody valley; sometimes wholly hidden under logs and &llen trees, sometimea spreadiug into i broad, dear pool ; and on its banks, in FORT LEAVENWORTH. 23 Jttle nooks cleared away among the trees, miniature log- houses, in utter ruin and neglect. A labrrinth of naiTOw, obstructed paths connected these habitations one with an- other. Sometimes we met a stray calf, a pig, or a pony, belonging to some of the villagers, who usually lay in the sun in front of their dwellings, and looked on us with cold, suspicious eyes as we approached. Farther on, in place of the log-huts of the Kickapoos. we found the puhci lodges of their neighbors, the Pottawattamies, whose condition seemed no better than theirs. Growing tired at last, and exhausted by the excessive heat and sultriness of the day, we returned to our friend, the trader. By this time the crowd ai'ound him had dis- persed, and left him at leisure. He invited us to his cottage, a little white-and-green building, in the style of the old French settlements ; and ushered us into a neat, well-furnished room. The blinds were closed, and the heat and glare of the sun excluded ; the room was as cool as a cavern. It was neatly carpeted, too, and fur- nished in a manner that we hardly expected on the fron- tier. The sofas, chairs, tables, and a well-filled booKca.<^, would not have disgraced an eastern city ; though there were one or two little tokens that indicated the rather questionable civilization of the region. A pistol, loaded and capped, lay on the mantel-piece ; and through the glass of the bookcase, peepiug above the works of John Milton, glittered the handle of a very mischievous-looking knife. Our host went out. and returned with iced water, glasses, and a bottle of excellent claret, — a refreshment most wel- come in the extreme heat of the day ; and soon after ap}.»eared a merry, laughing woman, who must have been, a year or two before, a very rich specimen uf Creole bfautv. She came to sav that lunch was readv in the 24 THE OREGON TRAIL. next room. Our hostess evidently lived on the sunnv side of life, and troubled herself with none of its cares. She sat down and entertained us while we were at table with anecdotes of fishing-parties, frolics, and the officers at the fort. Taking leave at length of the hospitable trader and his friend, we rode back to the garrison. Shaw passed on to the camp, while I remained to call upon Colonel Kearney. I found him still at table. There sat our friend the Captain, in the same remarkable habili- ments in which we saw him at Westport ; the black pipe, however, being for the present laid aside. He dangled liis little cap in his hand, and talked of steeple-chases, touching occasionally upon his anticipated exploits in buffalo-hunting. There, too, was R , somewhat more elegantly attired. For the last time, we tasted the luxu- ries of civilization, and drank adieus to it in wine good enough to make us regret the leave-taking. Then, mount- ing, we rode together to the camp, where every thing was in readiness for departure on the morrow. CHAPTER IV. "jumping op p." /^UR transatlantic companions were well equipped for ^-^ the journey. They had a wagon drawn by six mules, and crammed with provisions for six months, besides ammunition enough for a regiment ; spare rifles and fowling-pieces, ropes and harness, personal baggage, and a miscellaneous assortment of articles, which pro- duced infinite embarrassment. Tliey had also decorated their persons with telescopes and portable compasses, and carried English double-barrelled rifles of sixteen to the pound calibre, slung to their saddles in dragooD fashion. By sunrise on the twenty-third of May we had break- fasted ; tlie tents were levelled, the animals saddled and harnessed, and all was prepared. ^^ Avance done! get up ! " cried Deslauriers to his mule. "Wright, our friends' muleteer, after some swearing and lashing, got his insub- ordinate train in motion, and then the whole party filed from the ground. Thus we bade a long adieu to bed and board, and the principles of Blackstone's Commentaries. The day was a most auspicious one ; and yet Shaw and I felt certain misgivings, which in the sequel proved but too Avell founded. We had just learned that though R had taken it upon him to adopt this course with- out consulting us, not a single man in the party knew the way ; and the absurdity of the proceeding soon became 26 THE OREGON TRAIL. manifest. His plan was to strike the trail of several companies of dragoons, who last summer had made an expedition under Colonel Kearney to Fort Laramie, and by this means to reach the grand trail of the Oregon emi- grants up the Platte. We rode for an hour or two, when a familiar cluster of buildings appeared on a little hill. " Hallo ! " shouted the Kickapoo trader from over his fence, " where are you going ? " A few rather emphatic exclamations might have been heard among us, when we found that we had gone miles out of our way, and were not advanced an inch toward the Rocky Mountains. So we turned in the direction the trader indicated ; and with the sun for a guide, began to trace a " bee-line " across the prairies. We struggled through copses and lines of wood ; we waded brooks and pools of water ; we traversed prairies as green as an emerald, expanding before us mile after mile, wider and more wild than the wastes Mazeppa rode over. " Man nor brute, Nor dint of lioof, nor print of foot, Lay in the wild luxuriant soil ; No sign of travel ; none of toil ; The very air was mute." Riding in advance, as we passed over one of these great plains, we looked back and saw the line of scattered horsemen stretching for a mile or more ; and, far in the rear, against the horizon, the white wagons creeping slowly along. " Here we are at last ! " shouted the Cap- tain. And, in truth, we had struck upon the traces of a large body of horse. We turned joyfully and followed this new course, with tempers somewhat improved ; and towards sunset encamped on a high swell of the prairie, at the foot of which a lazy stream soaked along through clumps of rank grass. It was getting dark. We turned *' JUMPING OFF." 27 the horses loose to feed. " Drive down the tent-pickets hard," said Henry Chatillon, " it is going to blow." We did so, and secured the tent as well as we could ; for the sky had changed totally, and a fresh damp smell in the wind warned us that a stormy night was likely to succeed tlie hot, clear day. The prairie also wore a new aspect, and its vast swells had grown black and sombre under the shadow of the clouds. The thunder soon began to growl at a distance. Picketing and hobbling the horses among the rich grass at the foot of the slope where we encamped, we gained a shelter just as the rain began to fall ; and sat at the opening of the tent, watching the proceedings of the Captain. In defiance of the rain, he was stalking among the horses, wrapped in an old Scotch plaid. An extreme solicitude tormented him, lest some of his favorites should escape, or some accident should befall them ; and he cast an anxious eye towards three wolves who were sneaking along over the dreary surface of the plain, as if he dreaded some hostile demonstration on their part. On the next morning we had gone but a mile or two when we came to an extensive belt of woods, through the midst of which ran a stream, wide, deep, and of an appearance particularly muddy and treacherous. Deslau- riers was in advance with his cart ; he jerked his pipe from his mouth, lashed his mules, and poured forth a volley of Canadian ejaculations. In plunged the cart, but midway it stuck fast. He leaped out knee-deep in water, and, by dint of sacres and a vigorous application of the whip, urged the mules out of the slough. Then approached the long team and heavy wagon of our friends ; but it paused on the brink. "Now my advice is," — began the Captain, who had been anxiously contemplating the muddy gulf. 28 THE OREGON TRAIL. " Drive on ! " cried R- But Wright, the muleteer, apparently had not as yet decided the point in his own mind ; and he sat still in his seat, on one of the shaft-mules, whistling in a low con- templative sti'ain to himself. " My advice is," resumed the Captain, " that we un- load ; for I'll bet any man live pounds that if we try to go through we shall stick fast." "By the powers, we shall stick fast!" echoed Jack, the Captain's brother, shaking his large hexid with an air of firm conviction. " Drive on ! drive on ! " cried R , petulantly. " Well," observed the Captain, turning to us as we sat looking on, much edified by this by- play among our con- federates, •* I can only give my advice, and if people won't be reasonable, why they won't, that's all! " Meanwhile Wright had apparently made up his mind ; for he suddenly began to shout forth a volley of oaths and curses, that, compared with the French imprecations of Peslauriers, sounded like the roaring of heavy cannon after the popping and sputtering of a bunch of Chinese jraokei"s. At the same time he discharged a shower of blows upon his mules, who hastily dived into the mud, and drew the wagon lumbering after them. For a mo- ment the issue was doubtful. Wright writhed about in his saddle, and swore and lashed like a madman ; but who can count on a team of halt-broken mules '? At the most critical point, when aU should have l>een harmony and combined etibrt, the perverse brutes fell into disorder, and huddled together in confusion on the farther bank. There was the wagon up to the hub in mud, and visibly settling every instant. There was nothing for it but to unload ; then to dig away the mud from before the wheels with a spade, and lay a causeway of bushes and branches. " JUMPING OFF." '29 This agreeable labor accomplished, the wagon at length emerged ; but as some interruption of this sort occurred at least four or five times a day for a fortnight, our progress towards the Platte was not without its obsta- cles. We travelled six or seven miles farther, and "nooned" near a brook. On the point of resuming our journey, when the horses were all driven down to water, my home- sick charger, Pontiac, made a sudden leap across, and set off at a round trot for the settlements. I mounted my remaining horse and started in pursuit. Making a cir- cuit, I headed the runaway, hoping to drive him back to camp, but he instantly broke into a gallop, made a wide tour on the prairie, and got by me again. I tried this plan repeatedly with the same result ; Pontiac was evi- dently disgusted with the prairie, so I abandoned it and tried another, trotting along gently behind him, in hopes that I might quietly get near enough to seize the trail- rope which was fastened to his neck, and dragged about a dozen feet behind him. The chase grew interesting. For mile after mile I followed the rascal with the utmost care not to alarm him, and gradually got nearer, until at length old Hendrick's nose was fairly brushed by the whisking tail of the unsuspecting Pontiac. Without drawing rein I slid softly to the ground ; but my long heavy rifle encumbered me, and the low sound it made in striking the horn of the saddle startled him, he pricked up his ears and sprang off at a run. " My friend,'' thought 1, remounting, " do that again and I will shoot you : " Fort Leavenworth was about forty miles distant, and thither I determined to follow him. I made up my mind to spend a solitary and supperless night, and then set out again in the morning. One hope, however, remained. 80 THE OREGON TRAIL. Tlie creek where the wagon had stuck was just before, us ; Pontiac might be thirsty with his run and stop there to drink. I kept as near him as possible, taking every precaution not to alarm him again ; and the result proved as I had hoped, for he walked deliberately among the trees and stooped down to the water, I alighted, dragged old Hendrick through the mud, and with a feeling of infinite satisfaction picked up the slimy trail-rope, and twisted it three times round my hand. " Now let me see you get away again I " I thought, as I remounted. But Pontiac was exceedingly reluctant to turn back ; Hen- drick, too, who had evidently flattered himself with vain hopes, showed the utmost repugnance, and grumbled in a manner peculiar to himself at being compelled to face about. A smart cut of the whip restored his cheerful- ness ; and, dragging the recovered truant behind, I set out ui search of the camp. An hour or two elapsed, when, near sunset, I saw the tents, standing on a swell of the prairie, beyond a line of woods, while the bands of horses were feeding in a low meadow close at hand. Tliere sat Jack C , cross-legged, in the sun, splicing a trail-rope ; and the rest were lying on the grass, smoking and telling stories. That night we enjoyed a serenade from the wolves, more lively than any with which they had yet favored us ; and in the morning one of the musicians appeared, not many rods from the tents, quietly seated among the horses, looking at us with a pair of large gray eyes ; but perceiving a rifle levelled at him. he leaped up and made ofl' in hot haste. I pass by the following day or two of our journey, for nothing occurred worthy of record. Should any one of my readers ever be impelled to visit the prairies, and should he choose the route of the Platte (the best, per- haps, that can be adopted), I can assure him that he *' JUMPING OFF." 31 oeed not think to enter at once upon the paradise of liia imagination. A dreary preliminary, a protracted crossing of the threshold, awaits him before he finds himself fairly upon the verge of the " great American desert," — those barren wastes, the haunts of the buffalo and the Indian, where the very shadow of civilization lies a hundred leagues behind him. The intervening country, the wide and fertile belt that extends for several hundred miles beyond the extreme frontier, will probably answer toler- ably well to his preconceived ideas of the prairie ; for this it is from which picturesque tourists, painters, poets, and novelists, who have seldom penetrated farther, have derived their conceptions of the whole region. If he has a painter's eye, he may find his period of probation not wholly void of interest. The scenery, though tame, is graceful and pleasing. Here are level plains, too wide for the eye to measure ; green undulations, like motion- less swells of the ocean ; abundance of streams, followed through all their windings by lines of woods and scattered groves. But let him be as enthusiastic as he may, he will find enough to damp his ardor. His wagons will stick in the mud ; his horses will break loose ; harness will give way ; and axle-trees prove unsound. His bed will be a soft one, consisting often of black mud of the richest consistency. As for food, he must content him- self with biscuit and salt provisions ; for, strange as it may seem, this tract of country produces very little game. As he advances, indeed, he will see, mouldering in the grass by his path, the vast antlers of the elk, and farther on the whitened skulls of the buffalo, once swarming over this now deserted region. Perhaps, like us, he may jour- ney for a fortnight, and see not so much as the hoof-print of a deer ; in the spring, not even a prairie-hen is to be had. S2 THE QKBGCKI niilL. Yet, to eoBpaisile bim for iSus «Blooked4Qr <»f g&Die, he wiUfimdlmnsdf beset widL'^Tanainls'' imm- mnaJble. The votres wWi e&leitain him vitik a tut i ai «l nlgbt, snd skulk aroond him hj daj, Jmi bejimd rifle- shot ; his hofse vill step into badiger^Qles ; firom erefv mai^uidmiidipaddlevill arise tibe hdhwiag^ ooakiiig andtiffliD^cf fcgkms of frogs, iafinitffl|' Tariam ia cainr, dtope, and dJiBfragiioBS. Aprafinoaof saakes vifi^Ue avaj from ando- his hafrse''s feck, or qfoeOf risij^ him fm his teat at ni^; Triate Ae pwiiaafioan haaiaiii^ of a»- nambeied moe^foes vill baai^ sleep froaa his eyesfids. WheA IliiisljviAi a long ride ia ^he seoichiag sn over some boundless leaA of ptairie, he eomes at kagtih to a pool of water, and al|g)ils to dbnnk, he dfeeiwas a troop of jowB^tad^poles spectiBgizL the bottom of his e^ Add to dos^Httt^all tihe lMniiig;,the saa beats apon him witik a adtiT, paEietrati]^ heat, aad ^bat, vi^ provokaig lega laritT, at abooet foar o'ekM^ im tihe aftenocm, a Ihaadrt etona rises aad dr^^MS him to the skim. €hie dajr, aftn- a protcaeted merwag^s ride, ve stopped to rest at oocm «pt» the (^ea prairie. No trees v«£« in ^it; bait aose at head a little dnkhfiag brook was twfetiagfcom side to ado t hto ag ^ a hallow; i holes of stagBOBLt w^Ds-.aad aow ^Kfng over idhe a seareeh- pereeptible ewraKt.aBMog a grovlb of skkh- bishes. ased sreaft ehuBfS of tall ladk: gras& The daj w;3i^ex*c«s^TelTbotaBd peared, the latter shot through the body, and quite help less. Not long after, the storm moderated, and we advanced again. The cow walked painfully along under the charge of Jack, to whom the Captain had committed her, while he himself rode forward in his old capacity of vidette. We were approaching a long line of trees, that followed a stream stretching across our path, far in front, when we beheld the vidette galloping towards us appar- ently much excited, but with a broad grin on his face. " Let that cow drop behind ! " he shouted to us ; " here's her owners." And, in fact, as we approached the line of trees, a large white object, like a tent, was visible behind them. On approaching, however, we found, instead of the expected Mormon camp, nothing but the lonely prairie, and a large white rock standing by the pnth. The cow, thereforo, THE "' BIG BLUE." 49 resumed her place in our procession. She walked on until we encamped, when R , approaching with his English double-barrelled rifle, took aim at her heart, and discharged into it first one bullet and then the other. She was then butchered on the most approved principles of woodcraft, and furnished a very welcome item to our somewhat limited bill of fare. In a day or two more we reached the river called the " Big Blue." By titles equally elegant, almost all the streams of this region are designated. We had struggled through ditches and little brooks all that morning ; but on traversing the dense woods that lined the banks of the Blue, we found that more formidable difficulties awaited us, for the stream, swollen by the rains, was wide, deep, and rapid. No sooner were we on the spot than R flung oft" his clothes, and swam across, or splashed through the shallows, with the end of a rope between his teeth. We all looked on in admiration, wondering what might be the object of this energetic preparation ; but soon we heard him shouting : " Give that rope a turn round that stump. You, Sorel ; do you hear ? Look sharp, now, Boisverd. Come over to this side, some of you, and help me." The men to whom these orders were directed paid not the least attention to them, though they were poured out without pause or intermission. Henry Chatillon di- rected the work, and it proceeded quietly and rapidly. R 's sharp brattling voice might have been heard in- cessantly ; and he was leaping about with the utmost activity. His commands were rather amusingly incon- sistent ; for when he saw that the men would not do as he told them, he accommodated himself to circumstances, and with the utmost vehemence ordered them to do pre- cisely that which they were at the time engaged upon, no 50 THE OREGOIS TRAIL doubt recollecting the story of Mahomet and the refiactory mountain. Shaw smiled ; R observed it, and, ap proaching with a countenance of indignation, began to vapor a httle, but was instantly reduced to silence. The raft was at length complete. We piled our goods upon it, with the exception of our guns, which each man chose to retain in his own keeping. Sorel, Boisverd, Wright, and Deslauriers took tlieir stations at the four corners, to hold it together, and swim across with it; and in a moment more all our earthly possessions were float- ing on the turbid waters of the Big Blue. We sat on the bank, anxiously watching the result, until we saw the raft safe landed in a little cove far down on the opposite bank. The empty wagons were easily passed across ; and then, each man momiting a horse, we rode through the stream, tlie stray animals following of their own accord. CHAPTER VI. THE PLATTE AND THE DESERT. "\T TE were now at the end of our solitary journey • ' ings along the St. Joseph trail. On the evening of the twenty-third of May we encamped near its junction with the old legitimate trail of the Oregon emigrants. We had ridden long that afternoon, trying in vain to find wood and water, until at length we saw the sunset sky reflected from a pool encircled by bushes and rocks. The water lay in the bottom of a hollow, the smooth prairie gracefully rising in ocean-like swells on every side. We pitched our tents by it ; not however before the keen eye of Henry Chatillon had discerned some unusual object upon the faintly-defined outline of the distant sweU. But in the moist, hazy atmosphere of the evening, nothing could be clearly distinguished. As we lay around the fire after supper, a low and distant sound, strange enough amid the loneliness of the prairie, reached our ears — peals of laughter, and the faint voices of men and women. For eight days we had not en- countered a human being, and this singular warning of their vicinity had an effect extremely impressive. About dark a sallow-faced fellow descended the hill on horseback, and splashing through the pool, rode up to the tents. He was enveloped in a huge cloak, and his broad felt hat was weeping about his ears with the drizzling moisture of the evening. Another followed, a stout, square- 52 THE OREGON TRAIL. built, intelligent-looking man, who announced himself as leader of an emigrant party, encamped a mile in advance of us. About twenty wagons, he said, were with him ; the rest of his party were on the other side of the Big Blue, waiting for a woman who was in the pains of child birth, and quarrelling meanwhile among themselves. These were the first emigrants that we had overtaken, although we had found abundant and melancholy traces of their progress throughout the course of the journey. Sometimes we passed the grave of one who had sickened and died on the way. The earth was usually torn up, and covered thickly with wolf-tracks. Some had escaped this violation. One morning, a piece of plank, standing upright on the summit of a grassy hill, attracted our notice, and riding up to it, we found the following words very roughly traced upon it, apparently with a red-hot piece of iron : — MARY ELLIS. DIED MAT 7th, 1846. AOED TWO MONTHS. Such tokens were of common occurrence. We were late in breaking up our camp on the follow- ing morning, and scarcely had we ridden a mile when we saw, far in advance of us, drawn against the horizon, a line of objects stretching at regular intervals along the level edge of the prairie. An intervening swell soon hid them from sight, until, ascending it a quarter of an hour after, we saw close before us the emigrant caravan, with its heavy white wagons creeping on in slow procession, and a large drove of cattle following behind. Half a dozen yellow-visaged Missourians, mounted on horseback, were cursing and shouting among them, their lank angular proportions enveloped in brown homespun, evidently cut THE PLATTE AND THE DESERT. 53 and adjusted by the hands of a domestic female tailor. As we approached, they called out to us : " How are ye, ooys ? Are ye for Oregon or California ? " As we pushed rapidly by the wagons, children's faces were thrust out from tlie white coverings to look at us ; while the care-worn, thin-featured matron, or the buxom girl, seatod in front, suspended the knitting on which most of them were engaged to stare at us with wonder- ing curiosity. By the side of each wagon stalked the proprietor, urging on his patient oxen, who shouldered heavily along, inch by inch, on their interminable jour- ney. It was easy to see that fear and dissension prevailed among them; some of the men — but these, with one exception, were bachelors — looked wistfully upon us as we rode lightly and swiftly by, and then impatiently at fheir own lumbering wagons and heavy-gaited oxen. Others were unwilling to advance at all, until tlie party they had left behind should have rejoined them. Many were murmuring against the leader they had chosen, and wished to depose him ; and this discontent was fomented by some ambitious spirits, who had hopes of succeeding in his place. The women were divided between regrets for the homes they had left and fear of the deserts and savages before them. We soon left them far behind, and hoped that we had taken a final leave ; but our companions' wagon stuck so \ong in a deep muddy ditch, that before it was extricated ^he van of the emigrant caravan appeared again, descend- ing a ridge close at hand. Wagon after wagon plunged through the mud ; and as it was nearly noon, and the place promised shade and water, we saw with satisfaction that they were resolved to encamp. Soon the wagons were wheeled into a circle : the cattle were grazing over the meadow, and the men, with sour, sullen faces, were 54 THE OREGON TRAIL. looking about for wood and water. Tliey seemed to meet but indifferent success. As we left the ground, I saw a tall, slouching fellow, with the nasal accent of " down east," contemplating the contents of his tin cup, which ho had just filled with water. " Look here, you," said he ; " its chock-full of animals !" The cup, as he held it out, exhibited in fact an extraor- dinary variety and profusion of animal and vegetable life. Riding up the little hill, and looking back on the meadow, we could easily see that all was not right in tlie camp of the emigrantB. The men were crowded together, and an angry discussion seemed to be going forward. R was missing from his wonted place in the line, and the Captain told us that he had remained behind to get his horse shod by a blacksmitli attached to the emigrant party. Something whispered in our ears that mischiel was on foot ; we kept on, however, and coming soon t6 a stream of tolerable water, we stopped to rest and diue. Still the absentee lingered behind. At last, at the distance of a mile, he and his horse suddenly appeared, sharply defined against the sky on the summit of a hill ; and close behind, a huge white object rose slowly into view. " What is that blockhead bringing with him now ? " A moment dispelled the mystery. Slowly and solemnly, one behind the other, four long trains of oxen and four emigrant wagons rolled over the crest of the hill and gravely descended, while R rode in state in the van. It seems, that during the process of shoeing the horse, the smothered dissensions among the emigrants suddenly broke into oj~>en rupture. Some insisted on pushing for- ward, some on remaining where they were, and some on going back. Kearsley, their captain, threw up his com- mand in disgust. " And now, boys," said he, " if any of f ou are for going ahead, just you come along with me." THE PLATTE AND THE DESERT. 55 Four wagons, with ten men, one woman, and one small child, made up the force of the "go-ahead" faction, and R , with his usual proclivity toward mischief, invited them to join our party. Fear of the Indians — for I can conceive no other motive — must have induced him to court so burdensome an alliance. At all events, the pro- ceeding was a cool one. The men who joined us, it is true, were all that could be desired ; rude indeed in man ners, but frank, manly, and intelhgent. To tell them we could not travel with them was out of the question. I merely reminded Kearsley that if his oxen could not keep up with our mules he must expect to be left behind, as we could not consent to be farther delayed on the journey ; but he immediately replied, that his oxen " slioidd keep up ; and if they couldn't, why, he allowed, he'd fmd out how to make 'em." On th«a next day, as it chanced, our English companions broke the axle-tree of their wagon, and down came the whole cumbrous machine lumbering into the bed of a brook. Here was a day's work cut out for us. Mean- while our emigrant associates kept on their way, and so vigorously did they urge forward their powerful oxen, that, what with the broken axle-tree and other mishaps, it was hill a week before we overtook them ; when at length we discovered them, one afternoon, crawling quietly along the sandy brink of the Platte. But mean- while various incidents occurred to ourselves. It was probable that at this stage of our journey the Pawnees would attempt to rob us. We began therefore to stand guard in turn, dividing the night into three watches, and appointing two men for each. Deslauriers and 1 held guard together. We did not march with mili- tary precision to and fro before the tents : our discipline was by no means so strict. We wrapped ourselves in out 56 THE OREGON TRAIL. blankets, and sat down by the fire ; and Deslauriers, coiO' bining his culinary functions with his duties as sentinel, employed himself in boiling the head of an antelope for our breakfast. Yet we were models of vigilance in com- parison with some of the party ; for the ordinary practice of the guard was to lay his rifle on the ground, and, enveloping his nose in his blanket, meditate on his mis- tress, or whatever subject best pleased him. Tliis is all well enough when among Indians who do not habit- ually proceed further in their hostility than robbing travellers of their horses and mules, though, indeed, a Pawnee's forbearance is not always to be trusted ; but in certain regions farther to the west, the guard must beware how he exposes his person to the light of the fire, lest some keen-eyed skulking marksman should let fly a bullet or an arrow from the darkness. Among various tales that circulated around our camp- fire was one told by Boisverd, and not inappropriate here. He was trapping with several companions on the skirts of the Blackfoot country. The man on guard, knowing that it behooved him to put forth his utmost precaution, kept aloof from the fire-light, and sat watching intently on all sides. At length he was aware of a dark, crouch- ing figure, stealing noiselessly into the circle of the light. He hastily cocked his rifle, but the sharp click of the lock caught the ear of the Blackfoot, whose senses were all on the alert. Raising his arrow, already fitted to the string, he shot it in the direction of the sound. So sure was his aim, that he drove it through the throat of the unfor- tunate guard, and then, with a loud yell, bounded from the camp. As I looked at the partner of my watch, puffing and blowing over his fire, it occurred to me that he might not prove the most efficient auxiliary in time of trouble. THE PLATTE AND THE DESERT. 57 " Deslanriers," said I, "would you run away if the Paw- nees should fire at us ? " " Ah ! oui, oui, Monsieur ! " he replied very decisively. At this instant a whimsical variety of voices, — barks, howls, yelps, and whines, — all mingled together, sounded from the prairie, not far off, as if a conclave of wolves of every age and sex were assembled there. Deslauriers looked up from his work with a laugh, and began to imi tate this medley of sounds with a ludicrous accuracy. At this they were repeated with redoubled emphasis, the musician being apparently indignant at the successful efforts of a rival. They all proceeded from the throat of one little wolf, not larger than a spaniel, seated by him- self at some distance. He was of the species called the prairie-wolf: a grim-visaged, but harmless little brute, whose worst propensity is creeping among horses and gna-wing the ropes of raw hide by which they are picketed around the camp. Other beasts roam the prairies, far more formidable in aspect and in character. These are the large white and gray wolves, whose deep howl we heard at intervals from far and near. At last I fell into a doze, and awaking from it, found Deslauriers fast asleep. Scandalized by this breach of discipline, I was about to stimulate his vigilance by stir- ring him with the stock of my rifle ; but, compassion pre- vailing, I determined to let him sleep a while, and then arouse him to administer a suitalile reproof for such forgetfulness of duty. Now and then I walked the rounds among the silent horses, to see that all was right. The night was chill, damp, and dark, the dank grass bending under the icy dew-drops. At tlie distance of a rod or tsvo the tents were invisible, and nothing could be seen but the obscure figures of the horses, deeply breathing, and restlessly starting as they slept, or still slowly champing 58 THE OREGON TRAIL. the grass. Far off, beyond the black outline of the prairie, there was a ruddy light, gradually increasing, like the glow of a conflagration ; until at length the broad disk of the moon, blood-red, and vastly magnified by the vapors, rose slowly upon the darkness, flecked by one or two little clouds, and as the light poured over the gloomy plain, a fierce and stern howl, close at hand, seemed to greet it as an unwelcome intruder. There was something impressive and awful in the place and the hour ; for I and the beasta were all that had consciousness for many a league around. Some days elapsed, and brought us near the Platte. Two men on horseback approached us one morning, and we watched them with the curiosity and interest that, upon the solitude of the plains, such an encounter always excites. They were evidently whites, from their mode of riding, though, contrary to the usage of that region, neither of them carried a rifle. " Fools ! " remarked Henry Chatillon, " to ride that way on the prairie ; Pawnee find them — then they catch it." Pawnee had found them, and they had come very near " catching it ; " indeed, nothing saved them but the ap- proach of our party. Shaw and I knew one of them, — a man named Turner, whom we had seen at Westport. He and his companion belonged to an emigrant party en- camped a few miles in advance, and had returned to look for some stray oxen, lea%ing their rifles, with character- istic rashness or ignorance, behind them. Their neglect had nearly cost them dear ; for, just before we came up, half a dozen Indians approached, and, seeing them ap- parently defenceless, one of the rascals seized the bridle of Turner's horse and ordered him to dismount. Tur- ner was wholly unarmed ; but the other jerked a pistol out of his pocket, at which the Pawnee recoiled ; and just THE PLATTE AjSD THE DESERT. 59 then some of our men appearing in the distance, the whole party whipped their rugged little horses and made off. In no way daunted. Turner foolishly persisted in going forward. Long after leaving him, and late that afternoon, in the midst of a gloomy and barren prairie, we came suddenly upon the great trail of the Pawnees, leading from their villages on the Platte to their war and hunting grounds to the southward. Here every summer passes the motley concourse: thousands of savages, men, women, and chil- dren, horses and mules, laden with their weapons and im- plements, and an innumerable multitude of unruly wolfish dogs, who have not acquired the civilized accomplishment of barking, but howl like their wild cousins of the prairie. The permanent "svinter villages of the Pawnees stand on the lower Platte, but throughout the summer the greater pai-t of the inhabitants are wandering over the plains, — a treacherous, cowardly banditti, who, by a thou- sand acts of pillage and murder, have deserved chastise- ment at tlie hands of government. Last year a Dahcotah warrior performed a notable exploit at one of these vil- lages. He approached it alone, in the middle of a dark night, and clambering up the outside of one of the lodges, which are in the form of a half-sphere, looked in at tlie round hole made at the top for the escape of smoke. The dusky light from the eml)ers showed him the forms of the sleeping inmates ; and dropping lightly through the opening, he unsheathed his knife, and, stirring the fire, coolly selected his victims. One by one, he stanbed and scalped them ; when a child suddenly awoke and •screamed. He rushed from the lodge, yelled a Sioux war-cry, shouted his name in triumph and defiance, and darted out upon the dark prairie, leaving the whole village behind him in a tumult, with the howling and banng of so THP OREGON TRAIL. dogs, the screams of women, and the yells of the enraged warriors. Our friend Kearsley, as we learned on rejoining him, signalized himself by a less bloody achievement. He and his men were good woodsmen, well skilled in the use of the rifle, but found themselves wholly out of their element on the prairie. None of them had ever seen a buffalo ; and they had very vague conceptions of his nature and appearance. On the day after they reached the Platte, looking towards a distant swell, they beheld a multitude of little black specks in motion upon its surface. " Take your rifles, boys," said Kearsley, " and we'll have fresh meat for supper." This inducement was quite sufiicieut. The ten men left their wagons, and set out in hot haste, some on horseback and some on foot, in pursuit of the supposed buffalo. Meanwhile a high, grassy ridge shut the game from view ; but mounting it after half an hour's running and riding, they found tliemselves suddenly confronted by about thirty mounted Pawnees. Amaze ment and consternation were mutual. Having nothing but their bows and arrows, the Indians thought their hour was come, and the fate that they were conscious of richly deserving about to overtake them. So they began, one and all, to shout forth the most cordial salutations, run- ning up with extreme earnestness to shake hands with the Missourians, who were as much rejoiced ls they were to escape the expected conflict. A low, undulating line of sand-hills bounded the horizon before us. That day we rode ten hours, and it was dusk before we entered the hollows and gorges of these gloomy little hills. At length we gained the summit, and the long-expected valley of the I'latte lay before us. We all drew rein, and sat joyfully looking down upon t;he pros- pect. It was right welcome ; strange, too, and striking? THE PLArrE AND THE DESERT. 6"! CO the imagination, and yet it had not one picturesque or beautiful feature ; nor had it any of the features of gran- deur, other than its vast extent, its solitude, and its wild- ness. For league after league, a plain as level as a lake was outspread beneath us ; here and there the Platte, divided into a dozen thread-like sluices, was traversing it, and an occasional clump of wood, rising iu the midst like a shadowy island, relieved the monotony of the waste. No living thing was moving throughout the vast landscape, except the lizards that darted over the sand and through the rank grass and prickly pears at our feet. "We had passed the more tedious pai't of tlie journey ; but four himdred miles still intervened between us and Fort Laramie ; and to reach that point cost us the travel of three more weeks. During the whole of this time we were passing up the middle of a long, narrow, sandy plain, reaching like an outstretched belt nearly to the Rocky Mountains. Two lines of sand-hills, broken often into the wildest and most fantastic forms, flanked the valley at the distance of a mile or two on the right and left ; while beyond them lay a barren, trackless waste, extend- ing for hundreds of miles to the Arkansas on the one side, and the Missouri on the other. Before and behind us, the level monotony of the plain was unbroken as far as the eye could reach. Sometimes it glared in the sun, an expanse of hot, bare sand ; sometimes it was veiled by long coarse grass. Skulls and whitening bones of buffalo were scattered everywhere ; the ground was tracked by myriads of them, and often covered with the circular indentations where the bulls had wallowed in the hot weather. From every gorge and ranne, opening from the hills, descended deep, well-worn paths, where the buffalo issue twice a day in regular procession to drink in the Platte. The river itself runs through the 62 THE OREGON TRAIL. midst, a thin sheet of rapid, turbid water, half a mile wide, and scarcely two feet deep. Its low banks, for the most part without a bush or a tree, are of loose sand, with which the stream is so charged that it grates on the teeth in drinking. The naked landscape is, of itself, dreary and monotonous enough ; and yet the wild beasts and wild men that frequent the valley of the Platte make it a scene of interest and excitement to the traveller. Of those who have journeyed there, scarcely one, perhaps, fails to look back with fond regret to his horse and his rifle. Early in the morning after we reached the Platte, a long procession of squalid savages approached our camp Each was on foot, leading his horse by a rope of bull-hide. His attire consisted merely of a scanty cincture, and an old buffalo robe, tattered and begrimed by use, which hung over his shoulders. His head was close shaven, except a ridge of hair reaching over the crown from the middle of the forehead, very much like the long bristles on the back of a hyena, and he carried his bow and arrows in his hand, while his meagre little horse was laden with dried buffalo meat, the produce of his hunting. Such were the first specimens that we met — and very indifferent ones they were — of the genuine savages of the prairie. They were the Pawnees whom Kearsley had encoun- tered the day before, and belonged to a large hunting party, known to be ranging the prairie in the vicinity. They strode rapidly by, within a furlong of our tents, not pausing or looking towards us, after the manner of In dians when meditating mischief, or conscious of ill desert. I went out to meet them, and had an amicable conference with the chief, presenting him with half a pound of tobacc^ , at which uimierited bounty he expressed mucl THE PLATTE AND THE DESERT. 66 gratification. These fellows, or some of their com- panions, had committed a dastardly outrage upon an emigrant party in advance of us. Two men, at a dis- tance from the rest, were seized by them, but, lashing their horses, they broke away and fled. At this the Pawnees raised the yell and shot at them, transfixing the hindmost through the back with several arrows, while his companion galloped away and brought in the news to his party. The panic-stricken emigrants remained for several days in camp, not daring even to send out in quest of the dead body. Our New-England climate is mild and equable com- pared with that of the Platte. This very morning, for instance, was close and sultry, the sun rising with a faint oppressive heat ; when suddenly darkness gathered in the west, and a furious blast of sleet and hail drove full in our faces, icy cold, and urged with such demoniac vehe- mence that it felt like a storm of needles. It was curious to see the horses ; they faced about in extreme dis- pleasure, holding their tails like whipped dogs, and shiv- ering as the angry gusts, howling louder than a concert of wolves, swept over us. Wright's long train of mules came sweeping round before the storm, like a flight of snow-birds driven by a winter tempest. Thus we all remained stationary for some minutes, crouching close to our horses' necks, much too surly to speak, though once the Captain looked up from between the collars of his coat, his face blood-red, and the muscles of his mouth contracted by the cold into a most ludicrous grin of agony. He grumbled something that sounded like a curse, directed, as we believed, against the unhappy hour when he had first thought of leaving home. The thing was too good to last long ; and the instant the puffs of wind subsided we pitched our tents, and remained Id 64 THE OREGON TRAIL camp for the rest of a gloomy and lowering day. The emigrants also encamped near at hand. We being first on the ground, had appropriated all the wood within reach ; so that our fire alone blazed cheerily. Around it soon gathered a group of uncouth figures, shivering in the drizzling rain. Conspicuous among them were two or three of the half-savage men who spend their reckless lives in trapping among the Rocky Mountains, or in trad ing for the Fur Company in the Indian villages. They were all of Canadian extraction ; their hard, weather- beaten faces and bushy moustaches looked out from beneath the hoods of their white capotes with a bad and brutisli expression, as if their owners might be the willing agents of any villany. And such in fact is the character of many of these men. On the day following we overtook Kearsley's wagons, and thenceforward, for a week or two, we were fellow- travellers. One good effect, at least, resulted from the alliance ; it materially diminished the fatigues of stand- ing guard ; for the party being now more numerous, there were longer intervals between each man's turns of duty. CHAPTER VII. THE BUFFALO. r^OUR days on the Platte, and yet no buffalo ! Last ■*- year's signs of them were provokingly abundant ; and wood being extremely scarce, we found an admirable substitute in the bois de vache, which burns like peat, pro- ducing no unpleasant effects. The wagons one morning had left the camp ; Shaw and I were already on horse- back, but Henry Chatillon still sat cross-legged by the dead embers of the fire, playing pensively with the lock of his rifle, while his sturdy Wyandot pony stood quietly behind him, looking over his head. At last he got up, patted the neck of the pony (which, from an exagger- ated appreciation of his merits, he had christened " Five Hundred Dollar "), and then mounted, with a melancholy air. " Wliat is it, Henry ? " " Ah, I feel lonesome ; I never been here before but I see away yonder over the buttes, and down there on the prairie, black — all black with buffalo." In the afternoon he and I left the party in search of an antelope, until, at the distance of a mile or two on the right, the tall white wagons and the little black specks of horsemen were just visible, so slowly advancing that they seemed motionless ; and far on the left rose the broken line of scorched, desolate sand-hills. The vast plain waved with tall rank grass, that swept our liorses' bellies ; 66 THE OREGON TRAIL. it swayed to and fro in billows with the light breeze, and far and near antelope and wolves were moving through it, the hairy bacl<:s of the latter alternately appearing and disappearing as they bounded awkwardly along ; while the antelope, with the simple curiosity peculiar to them, would often approach us closely, their little horns and white throats just visible above the grass tops, as they gazed eagerly at us with their round black eyes. I dismounted, and amused myself with firing at the wolves. Henry attentively scrutinized tlie surrounding landscape ; at length he gave a shout, and called on me to mount again, pointing in the direction of the sand- hills. A mile and a lialf from us two black specks slowly traversed the bare glaring face of one of them, and disappeared behind the summit. " Let us go ! " cried Henry, belaboring the sides of " Five Hundred Dol- lar ; " and I following in his wake, we galloped rapidly through the rank grass toward the base of the hills. From one of their openings descended a deep ravine, widening as it issued on the prairie. We entered it, and galloping up, in a moment were surrounded by the bleak sand-hills. Half of their steep sides were bare ; the rest were scantily clothed with clumps of grass, and various uncouth plants, conspicuous among which appeared the reptile-like prickly-pear. They were gashed with number- less ravines ; and as the sky had suddenly darkened, and a cold gusty wind arisen, the strange shrubs and the dreary hills looked doubly wild and desolate. But Henry's face was all eagerness. He tore off a little hair from the piece of butfalo-robe under his saddle, and threw it up, to show the course of the wind. It blew directly before us. The game were therefore to windward, and it was neces sary to make our best speed to get round them. We scrambled from this ravine, and, galloping awaj THE BUFFALO. 67 tlirough the hollows, soon found anotlier, winding like a snake among the hills, and so deep that it completely con- cealed us. We rode up the bottom of it, glancing through the bushes at its edge, till Henry abruptly jerked his rein, and slid out of his saddle. Full a quarter of a mile distant, on the outline of the farthest hill, a long proces- sion of bulfalo were walking, in Indian file, with the utmost gravity and deliberation ; then more appeared, clambering from a hollow not far off, and ascending, one behind the other, the grassy slope of another hill ; then a shaggy head and a pair of short broken horns issued out of a ravine close at hand, and with a slow, stately step, one by one, the enormous brutes came into view, taking their way across the valley, wholly unconscious of an enemy. In a moment Henry was worming his way, lying flat on the ground, through grass and prickly- pears, towards his unsuspecting victims. He had with him both my rifle and his own. He was soon out of sight, and still the buffalo kept issuing into the valley. For a long time all was silent ; I sat holding his horse, and wondering what he was about, when suddenly, in rapid succession, came the sharp reports of the two rifles, and the whole line of buffalo, quickening their pace into a clumsy ti'ot, gradually disappeared over the ridge of the hill. Henry rose to his feet, and stood looking after them. " You have missed them," said I. " Yes," said Henry ; " let us go." He descended into the ravine, loaded the rifles, and mounted his horse. We rode up the hill after the buffalo. The herd was out of sight when we reached tlie top, but lying on the grass, not far off, was one quite lifeless, and another vio- lently struggling in the death agony. " You see I miss him ! " remarked Henry. He had 68 THE OREGON TRAIL. fired from a distance of more than a hundred and fifty yards, and botli balls had passed through the lungs, the true mark m shooting buffalo. The darkness increased, and a driving storm came on. Tying our horses to the horns of the victims, Henry began the bloody work of dissection, slashing away with the science of a connoisseur, while I vainly tried to imitate him. Old Hendrick recoiled with horror and indignation when 1 endeavored to tie the meat to the strings of raw hide, always carried for this purpose, dangling at the back of tne saddle. After some difficulty we overcame his scruples ; and, heavily burdened with the more eligible portions of the buffalo, we set out on our return. Scarcely had we emerged from the labyrinth of gorges and ravines, and issued upon the open prairie, when the prickling sleet came driving, gust upon gust, directly in our faces. It was strangely dark, though wanting still an hour of sun- set. The freezing storm soon penetrated to the skin, but the uneasy trot of our heavy-gaited horses kept us warm enough, as we forced them unwillingly in the teeth of the sleet and rain, by the powerful suasion of our Indian whips. The prairie in tliis place was hard and level. A flourishing colony of prairie-dogs had burrowed into it in every direction, and the little mounds of fresh earth around their holes were about as numerous as the hills in a corn-field ; but not a yelp was to be heard ; not the nose of a single citizen was visible ; all had retired to the depths of their burrows, and we envied them their dry and comfortable habitations. An hour's hard riding showed us our tent dimly looming through the storm, one side puffed out by the force of the wind, and the other collapsed in proportion, while the disconsolate horses stood shivering close around, and the wind kept up a dis- mal whistling in the boughs of three old half-dead trees THE BUFFALO. 69 above. Sliaw, like a patriarch, sat on his saddle in the entrance, with a pipe in his mouth and his arms folded, contemplating, with cool satisfaction, the piles of meat that we flung on the ground before him. A dark and dreary night succeeded ; but the sun rose, with a heat so sultry and languid that the Captain excused himself on that account from waylaying an old buffalo bull, who with stupid gravity was walking over tlie prairie to drink at the river. So much for the climate of the Platte. But it was not the weather alone that had produced this sudden abatement of the sportsman-like zeal which the Captain had always professed. He had been out on the afternoon before, together with several members of his party : but their hunting was attended with no other result than the loss of one of their best horses, severely injured by Sorel, in vainly chasing a wounded bull. The Captain, whose ideas of hard riding were all derived from transatlantic sources, expressed the utmost amazement at the feats of Sorel, who went leaping ravines, and dash- ing at full speed up and down the sides of precipitous hills, lashing his horse with the recklessness of a Rocky Mountain rider. Unfortunately for the poor animal, he was the property of R , against whom Sorel enter- tained an unbounded aversion. The Captain himself, it seemed, had also attempted to " run " a buffalo, but though a good and practised horseman, he had soon given over the attempt, being astonished and utterly disgusted at the nature of the ground he was required to ride over. " Here's old Papin and Frederic, down from Fort Lar- amie," shouted Henry, as we returned from a recon- noitring tour on the next morning. We had for some days expected this encounter. Papin was the bourgeois^ or " boss," of Fort Laramie. He had come down the river with the buffalo-robes and the beaver, the produce TO THE OREGO:^ TRAIL. of the lust winter's trading. I had among our baggage a letter which I wished to commit to their hands ; so re- questing Henrj to detain the boats if he could until my return, I set out after the wagons. They were about four miles in advance. In half an hour I overtook them, got the letter, trotted back upon the trail, and looking carefully, as I rode, saw a patch of broken storm-blasted trees, and, moving near them, some little black specks like men and horses. Arriving at tho place, I found a strange assembly. The boats, eleven in number, deep- laden with the skins, hugged close to the shore, to escape being borne down by the swift current. The rowers, swarthy ignoble Mexicans, turned their brutish faces upwards to look, as I reached the bank. Papin sat in the middle of one of the boats, upon the canvas covering that protected the cargo. He was a stout, robust fellow, with a little gray eye, that had a peculiarly sly twinkle " Frederic," also, stretched his tall raw-boned proportions close by the bourgeois, and "mountain men" completed the group : some lounging in the boats, some strolling on shore ; some attired in gayly-painted buffalo robes, like Indian dandies ; some with hair satiu-ated with red paint, and plastered with glue to their temples ; and one bedaubed with vermilion upon the forehead and each cheek. They were a mongrel race ; yet the French blood seemed to predominate : in a few, indeed, might be seen the black snaky eye of the Indian half-breed, and, one and all, they seemed to aim at assimilating themselves to their red associates. I shook hands with the bourgeois, and delivered the letter : then the boats swung round into the stream and floated away. They had reason for haste, for already the voyage from Fort Laramie had occupied a full month, and tlie rivei was growing daily more shallow. Fifty THE BUFFALO. 71 times a day the boats had been aground ; indeed, thosu who navigate the Platte invariably spend half their time upon sand-bars. Two of these boats, the property of private traders, afterwards separating from the rest, got hopelessly involved in the shallows, not very far from the Pawnee villages, and were soon surrounded by a swarm of the inhabitants. They carried off every thing that they thought valuable, including most of the robes ; and amused themselves by tying up the men left on guard, and soundly whipping them with sticks. We encamped that night upon the bank of the river. Among the emigrants was an overgrown boy, some eighteen years old, with a head as round and about as large as a pumpkin, and fever-and-ague fits had dyed his ftice of a corresponding color. He wore an old white hat, tied under his chin with a handkerchief; his body was short and stout, but his legs were of disproportioned and appalling length. I observed him at sunset, breasting the hill with gigantic strides, and standing against the sky on the summit, like a colossal pair of tongs. In a moment after we heard him screaming frantically behind the ridge, and nothing doubting that he was in the clutches of Indians or grizzly bears, some of the party caught up their rifles and ran to the rescue. His out- cries, however, were but an ebullition of joyous excite- ment ; he had chased two wolf pups to their burrow, and was on his knees, grubbing away like a dog at the mouth of the hole, to get at them. Before morning he caused more serious disquiet in the camp. It was his turn to hold the middle-guard ; but no sooner was he called up than he coolly arranged a pair of saddle-bags under a wagon, laid his head upon them, closed his eyes, opened his mouth, and fell asleep. The guard on our side of the camp, thinking it no part of hi? 72 THE OREGOM TRAIL. duty to look after the cattle of the emigrants, contented himself with watching our own horses and mules ; the wolves, he said, were unusually noisy ; but still no mis- chief was anticipated until the sun rose, when not a hoof or horn was in sight. The cattle were gone. While Tom was quietly slumbering, the wolves had driven them away. Then we reaped the fruits of R 's precious plan of travelling in company with emigrants. To leave them in their distress was not to be thought of, and we felt bound to wait mitil the cattle could be searched for, and, if possible, recovered. But the reader may be curious to know what punishment awaited the faithless Tom. By the wholesome law of the prairie, he who falls asleep on guard is condemned to walk all day, leading his horse by the bridle ; and we found much fault with our companions for not enforcing such a sentence on the otfender. Never- tlieless, had he been of our own party, I have no doubt that he would in like manner have escaped scot-free. But the emigrants went farther than mere forbearance : they decreed that since Tom couldn't stand guard without falling asleep, he shouldn't stand guard at all, and hence forward his slumbers were unbroken. Establishing such a premium on drowsiness could have no very beneficial eflFect upon the vigilance of our sentinels ; for it is far from agreeable, after riding from sunrise to sunset, to feel your slumbers interrupted by the but of a rifle nudg- ing your side, and a sleepy voice growling in your ear that you must get up, to shiver and freeze for three weary hours at midnight. "Buffalo! buffalo!" It was but a grim old bull, roaming the prairie by himself in misanthropic seclusion ; but there might be more behind the hills. Dreading the monotony and languor of the camp, Shaw and I saddled THE BUFFALO. 73 our horses, buckled our holsters in their places, and set out with Henry Chatillon in search of the game. Henry, not intending to take part in the chase, but merely con- ducting us, carried his rifle with him, while we left ours behind as incumbrances. We rode for some five or six miles, and saw no living thing but wolves, snakes, and prairie-dogs. " This won't do at all," said Shaw. " What won't do ? " " There's no wood about here to make a litter for the wounded man : I have an idea that one of us will need something of the sort before the day is over." There was some foundation for such an idea, for the ground was none of the best for a race, and grew worse continually as we proceeded ; indeed, it soon became desperately bad, consisting of abrupt hills and deep hollows, cut by frequent ravines not easy to pass. At length, a mile in advance, we saw a band of bulls. Some were scattered grazing over a green declivity, while the rest were crowded together in the wide hollow below. Making a circuit, to keep out of sight, we rode towards them, until we ascended a hill, within a furlong of them, beyond which nothing intervened that could pos- sibly screen us from their view. We dismounted behind the ridge, just out of sight, drew our saddle-girths, exam- ined our pistols, and mounting again, rode over the hill, and descended at a canter towards them, bending close to our horses' necks. Instantly they took the alarm : those on the hill descended, those below gathered into a mass, and the whole got into motion, shouldering each other along at a clumsy gallop. We followed, spurring our horses to full speed ; and as the herd rushed, crowding and tramp- ling in terror through an opening in the hills, we were close at their heels, half suffocated by the clouds of dust. 74 THE OREGON TRAIL. But as we drew near, their alarm and speed increased , our horses, being new to the work, showed signs of the utmost fear, bounding violently aside as we approached, and refusing to enter among the herd. The buffalo now broke into several small bodies, scampering over the hills in different directions, and I lost sight of Shaw ; neither of us knew where the other had gone. Old Ponliac ran like a frantic elephant up hill and down hill, his ponder- ous hoofs striking the prairie like sledge-hammers. He showed a curious mixture of eagerness and terror, strain- ing to overtake the panic-stricken herd, but constantly recoiling in dismay as we drew near. The fugitives, indeed, offered no very attractive spectacle, with their shaggy manes and the tattered remnants of their last winter's hair covering their backs in irregular shreds and patches, and flying off in the wind as they ran. At length I urged my horse close behind a bull, and after trying in vain, by blows and spurring, to bring him alongside, I fired from this disadvantageous position. At the report Pontiac swerved so much that I was again thrown u little behind the game. The bullet, entering too much in the rear, failed to disable the bull ; for a buffalo requires to be shot at particular points, or he will cer- tainly escape. The herd ran up a hill, and I followed in pursuit. As Pontiac rushed headlong down on the other side, I saw Shaw and Henry descending the hollow on the right, at a leisurely gallop ; and in front, the buffalo were just disappearing behind the crest of the next hill, their short tails erect, and their hoofs twinkling through a cloud of dust. At that moment I heard Shaw and Henry shouting to me ; but the muscles of a stronger arm than mine could not have checked at once the furious course of Pontiac, whose mouth was as insensible as leather. Added to this, THE BUFFALO. 76 1 rode him that morning with a snaffle, having the day before, for the benefit of my other horse, unbuckled from my bridle the curb which 1 commonly used. A stronger and hardier brute never trod the prairie ; but the novel sight of the buffalo filled him with terror, and when at full speed he was almost incontrollable. Gaining the top of the ridge, I saw nothing of the buffalo ; they had all vanished amid the intricacies of the hills and hollows. Reloading my pistols, in the best way I could, I galloped on until I saw them again scuttling along at the base of the hill, their panic somewhat abated. Down went old Pontiac among them, scattering them to the right and left ; and then we had another long chase. About a dozen bulls were before us, scouring over the hills, rushing down the declivities with tremendous weight and impetuosity, and then laboring with a weary gallop upward. Still Pontiac, in spite of spurring and beating, would not close with them. One bull at length fell a little behind the rest, and by dint of much effort, I urged my horse within six or eight yards of his side. His back was darkened with sweat: he was panting heavily, while his tongue lolled out a foot from his jaws. Gradually I came up abreast of him, urging Pontiac with leg and rein nearer to his side, when suddenly he did what buffalo in such cir cumstances will always do : he slackened his gallop, and turning towards us, with an aspect of mingled rage and distress, lowered his huge, shaggy head for a charge Pontiac, with a snort, leaped aside in terror, nearly throw- ing me to the ground, as I was wholly unprepared for such an evolution. I raised my pistol in a passion to strike him on the head, but thinking better of it, fired the bullet after the bull, who had resumed his flight ; then drew rein, and ietermined to rejoin my companions. It was high time The breath blew hard from Pontiac's nostrils. 7b THE OREGON TRAIL, and the sweat rolled in big drops down his sides ; I my- self felt as if drenched in warm water. Pledging myself to take my revenge at a future opportunity, I looked alx>ut for some indications to show me where I was, and what course I ought to pursue ; I might as well have looked for landmarks iu the midst of the ocean. How many miles I had run, or in what direction. I had no idea ; and around me the prairie was rolling in steep swells and pitches, without a single distinctive feature to guide me. I had a little compass hmig at my neck; andiguorant, that the Platte at this jK>int diverged considerably from its east- erly course, I thought that by keeping to the northward T should certainly ivach it. So I turned and rode about two hours in that direction. Tlie prairie changed as I advanced, softening away into easier imdulations, but nothing like the Platte appeai-ed. nor any sign of a human being : the same wild endless expanse lay around me still ; and to all appeai-ance I was as far from my object as ever I began now to think myself in danger of being lost, and, reining in my horse, summoned the scanty share of woodcraft that I possessed (if that term is applicable upon the prairie) to extricate me. It occiured to me that the butialo might prove my best guides. I soon fomid one of the paths made by them in their passage to the river : it ran nearly at right angles to my course ; but turning my horse's head in the dii-ection it indicated, his fi-eer gait and erected ears assured me that I was right. But in the mean time my ride had been by no means a solitary one. The face of the country was dotted far and wide with coimtless hundi-eds of buflalo. They trooped along in files and colimins, bulls, cows, and calves, on the green taces of the declivities in front. They scrambled away over the hills to the right and lct\ : aud far otT, the pale blue swells iu the extreme distance were THE BUFFALO. 77 dotted ■with innumerable specks. Sometimes I surprised shaggy old bulls grazing alone, or sleeping behind the ridges I ascended. They would leap up at my approach, stare stupidly at rac through their tangled manes, and then gallop heavily away. The antelope were very nu- merous ; and as thoy are always bold when in the neigh- borhood of buffalo, they would approach to look at me, gaze intently with their great round eyes, then suddenly leap aside, and stretch liglitly away over the prairie, as swiftly as a race-horse. Squalid, ruffian-like wolves sneaked through the hollows and sandy ravines. Several times I passed through villages of prairie-dogs, who sat, each at the mouth of his burrow, holding liis paws before him in a supplicating attitude, and yelping away most veliemently, whisking his little tail with every squeak- ing cry he uttered. Prairie-dogs are not fastidious in their choice of companions ; various long checkered snakes were sunning themselves in the midst of the vil- lage, and demure little gray owls, with a large white ring around each eye, were perched side by side with the right- ful inhabitants. The prairie teemed with life. Again and again I looked toward the crowded hill-sides, and was sure I saw horsemen ; and riding near, with a mixture of hope and dread, for Indians were abroad. I found them transformed into a group of butTalo. There was nothing in hiunan shape amid all this vast congregation of brute forms. When I turned down the bufflilo path, the prairie seemed changed ; only a wolf or two glided by at in- tervals, like conscious felons, never looking to the right or left. Being now free from anxiety, I was at leisure to obseiwe minutely the objects around me ; and here, for the first time, I noticed insects wholly different from any of the varieties found farther to the eastward. Gaudy 78 THE OREGON TRAIL. Dutterflies fluttered about my horse's head ; strangeh formed beetles, glittering with metallic lustre, were crawl- ing upon plants that I had never seen before ; multitudes of lizards, too, were darting like lightning over the sand. I had run to a great distance from the river. It cost me a long ride on the buffalo path, before I saw, from the ridge of a sand-hill, the pale surface of the Platte glisten- ing in the midst of its desert valley, and the faint outline of the hills beyond waving along the sky. From where I stood, not a ti'ee nor a bush nor a living thing was visible throughout the whole extent of the sun-scorched land- scape. In half an hour I came upon the trail, not far from the river ; and seeing that the party had not yet passed, I turned eastward to meet them, old Pontiac's long swino;ing trot again assuring me that I was risht in doing so. Having been slightly ill on leaving camp in the morning, six or seven hours of rough riding had fatigued me extremely. I soon stopped, therefore, flung my saddle on the ground, and with my head resting on it, and my horse's trail-rope tied loosely to my arm, lay wait- ing the arrival of the party, speculating meanwhile on the extent of the injuries Pontiac had received. At length the white wagon coverings rose from the verge of the plain. By a singular coincidence, almost at the same moment two horsemen appeared coming down from the hills. They were Shaw and Henry, who had searched for me awhile in the morning, but well knowing the futility of the attempt in such a broken country, had placed them- selves on the top of the highest hill they could find, and picketing their horses near them, as a signal to me, had lain down and fallen asleep. The stray cattle had been recovered, as the emigrants told us, about noon. Before sunset, we pushed forward eight miles farther. THE BUFFALO. 79 " JuvE 7, 1846. — Foiir men are missing : R , Sorel, and two emi grants. Thev set out tliis morning after buffalo, and liave not yet made their appearance ; whether killed or lost, we cannot tell." I find the above in my note-book, and well remember the council held on the occasion. Our fire was the scene of it ; for the superiority of Henry Chatillon's experience and skill made him the resort of the whole camp upon every question of difficulty. He was moulding bullets at the fire, when the Captain drew near, with a perturbed and care-worn expression of countenance, faithfully re- flected on the heavy features of Jack, who followed close behind. Then the emigrants came straggling from their wagons towards the common centre. Various sugges tions were made, to account for the absence of the four men, and one or two of the emigrants declared that, when out after the cattle, they had seen Indians dogging them, and crawling like wolves along the ridges of the hills. At this the Captain slowly shook his head with double gravity, and solemnly remarked, — " It's a serious thing to be travelling through this cursed wilderness ; " an opinion in which Jack immedi- ately expressed a thorough coincidence. Henry would not commit himself by declaring any positive opinion. " Maybe he only followed the buffalo too far ; maybe Indian kill him ; maybe he got lost ; I cannot tell." "With this the auditors were obliged to rest content ; the emigrants, not in the least alarmed, though curious to know what had become of their comrades, walked back to their wagons, and the Captain betook himself pensively to his tent. Shaw and I followed his example. CHAPTER Xm. TAKING FRENTH LEAVE. /^X the eighth of June, at eleven o'clock, -vve reached ^-^ the South Fork of the Platte, at the usual fording- place. For league upon league the desert uniforniitT of the prospect \ras almost unbroken ; the hills -were dotted with little tufts of shrivelled grass, but betwixt these the white sand was glaring in the sun ; and the channel of the river, almost on a level with the plain, was but one great saiid-bed, about half a mile wide. It was covered with water, but so scantily that the bottom was scarcely hidden ; for. wide as it is, the average depth of the Platte does not at this point exceed a foot and a half. Stopping near its bank, we gathei-ed hois de vache, and made a meal of buffalo-meat. Far off, on the other side, was a green meadow, where we could see the white tents and wagons of an emigrant camp ; and just opposite to ns we could discern a group of men and animals at the water's edge. Four or five horsemen soon entei^ed the river, and in ten minutes had waded across and clambered up the loose sand-bank. They were ill-looking fellows, thin and swarthy, with care-worn anxious faces, and lips rigidly compressed. They had good cause for anxiety ; it was three days since they first encamped here, and on the night of their airival they had lost a lumdred and twenty- tliree of their best cattle, driven off by the wolves, through the neerlect of the man on iruard. This discourajrins: and TAKING FRENCH LEAVE. 81 alarming calamity was not the first that had overtaken them. Since leaving the settlements they had met with nothing but misfortune. Some of their party had died ; cue man had been killed by the Pawnees ; and about a week before they had been plundered by the Dahcotalis of all their best horses, the wretched animals on which our visitors were mounted being the only ones that were left. They had encamped, they told us, near sunset, by the side of the Platte, and their oxen were scattered over the meadow, while the horses were feeding a little farther off. Suddenly the ridges of the hills were alive with a swarm of mounted Indians, at least six hundred in num- ber, who came pouring \nth a yell down towards the camp, rushing up within a few rods, to the great terror of the emigrants ; when, suddenly wheeling, they swept around the band of horses, and in five minutes disappeai*ed with then* prey through the openmgs of the hills. As these emigrants were telling thek story, we saw fonr other men approaching. They proved to be R and his companions, who had encountered no mischance of any kind, but had only wandered too far in pursuit of the game. They said they had seen no Indians, but only " millions of buffalo ; " aiid both R and Sorel had meat danglmg behind their saddles. The emigrants recrossed the river, and we prepared to follow. First the heavy ox-wagons plunged down the bank, and dragged slowly over the sand-beds ; sometimes the hoofs of the oxen were scarcely wet by the thin sheet of water ; and the next moment the river would be boil- ing against their sides, and eddying around the wheels. Inch by inch they receded from the shore, dwindling every moment, until at length they seemed to be floating far out in the middle of the river. A more critical ex- periment awaited us ; for our little mule-cart was V\- fitted 6 82 THE OREGON TRAIL. for the passage of so swift a stream. We watched it witlj anxiety, till it seemed a motionless white speck in the midst of the waters ; and it was motionless, for it had stuck fast in a quicksand. The mules wore losing their footing, the wheels were sinking deeper and deeper, and the water began to rise through the bottom and drench the goods within. All of us who had remained on the hither bank galloped to the rescue ; the men jumped into the water, adding their strength to that of the mules, until by much etlbrt the cart was extricated, and conveyed in safety aci'oss. As we gained the other l)ank, a rough group of men surrounded us. They were not robust, nor large of fi'ame, yet they had an aspect of hardy endurance. Finding at home no scope for their energies, they had betaken them- selves to the prairie ; and in them seemed to be revived, with redoubled force, that fierce spirit which impelled tlieir ancestors, scarcely more lawless thaii themselves, from the German forests, to inundate Europe, and over- whelm the Roman empire. A fortnight afterwards this unfortunate party passed Fort Laramie, while we were there. Not one of their missing oxen had been recovered, though they had remained encamped a week in search of them ; and they had been compelled to abandon a great part of their baggage and provisions, and yoke cows and heifers to their wagons to carry them forward upon their journey, the most toilsome and hazardous part of which lay still before them. It is worth noticing that on the Platte one may some- times see the shattered wrecks of ancient claw-footed tables, well waxed and rubbed, or massive bureaus of carved oak. These, some of them no doubt the relics of ancestral prosperity in the colonial time, must have en- comitered strange vicissitudes. Brought, perhaps, origin- TAKING FRENCH LEAVE. 83 ally from England ; then, with the declining fortunes of their owners, borne across the Alleghanies to the wilder- ness of Ohio or Kentucky ; then to Illinois or Missouri ; and now at last fondly stowed away in the family wagon for the interminable journey to Oregon. But the stern privations of the way are little anticipated. The cher- ished relic is soon flung out to scorch and crack upon the hot prairie. We resumed our journey ; but we had gone scarcely a mile, when R called out from the rear, — " We'll 'camp here." " Why do you want to 'camp? Look at the sun. It is not three o'clock yet." " We'll 'camp here ! " This was the only reply vouchsafed. Deslauriers was in advance with his cart. Seeing the mule-wagon wheel- ing from the track, he began to turn his own team in the same direction. " Go on, Deslauriers ; " and the little cart advanced again. As we rode on, we soon heard the wagon of our confederates creaking and jolting behind us, and the driver, Wright, discharging a furious volley of oaths against his mules ; no doubt venting upon them the wrath which he dared not direct against a more appro- priate object. Something of this sort had frequently occurred. Our English companion was by no means partial to us, and we thought we discovered in his conduct an intention to thwart and annoy us, especially by retarding the move- ments of the party, which he knew that we were anxious to quicken. Therefore he would insist on encamping at all unseasonable hours, saying tliat fifteen miles was a sufficient day's journey. Finding our wishes disregarded, we took the direction of affairs into our own hands tJ4 THE OREGON TRAIL. Keeping always in advance, to the iaexpressible indigna- tion of R , we encamped at what time and place we thought proper, not much caring whether the rest chose to follow or not. Thej alwavs did so, however, pitchuig their tent near ours, with sullen and wrathful counte- nances. Travelling together on these terms did not suit our tastes, and for some time we had meditated a separation We resolved to leave camp early in the morning, and push forward as rapidlv as possible for Fort Laramie, which we hoped to reach, bv hard travelling, in four or five days. The Captain soon trotted up between us, and we explained our intentions. •• A verv extraordinaiy proceeding, upon my word I " he remarked. The most prominent impression in his mind evidently was, that we were desertuig his party, in what he regai'ded as a very dangerous stage of the jour- ney. We ventui-ed tu suggest that we were only four in number, while his party still included sixteen men ; and as we were to go forward and they were to follow, a full proportion of the perils he apprehended would fall upon us. But the austerity of the Captain's features would not relax. •• A very extraordinary proceeding, gentlemen I " and repeating this, he rode otf to confer with his prin- cipal. Before sunrise on the next morning our tent was down , we harnessed our best horses to the cart and left the camp. But first we shook hands with our friends the emig rants, who sincerely wished us a safe journey, though some othei-s of the party might easily have been consoled had we encountered an Indian war-paiiy on the way. The Captain and his brother wei-e standing on the top of a hill, wi-apped in their plaids, like spirits of the mist, keeping an anxious eye on the uand of horses bek>w. We waved TAKING FRENCH LEAVE. 85 adieu to them as we rode off the ground. The Captain replied with a sahitatiou of the utmost dignity, wliich Jack tried to imitate, though not with perfect success. In five minutes we had gained the foot of the hills, but here we came to a stop. Hendrick was in the shafts, and be- ing the incarnation of perverse and brutish obstinacy, he ntterly refused to move. Deslauriers lashed and swore till he was tired, but Hendrick stood like a rock, grumbling to himself and looking askance at his enemy, until he saw a favorable oppoiinnity to take his revenge, when he struck out under the shaft with such cool malignity of intention that Deslam'iers only escaped the blow by a sudden skip into the air, such as no one but a Frenchman could achieve. Sliaw and he then joined forces, and lashed on both sides at once. The brute stood still for a while, till he could bear it no longer, when he began to kick and plunge till he threatened the utter demolition of the cart and harness. We glanced back at the camp, wliich was in full sight. Our companions, inspired by emulation, were levelling their tents and driving in their cattle and horses. " Take the horse out," said I. I took the saddle from Pontiac and put it upon Hen- drick ; the former was harnessed to tlie cart in an instant. ^^ Avaiice donc.'^^ cried Deslauriers. Pontiac strode up the hill, twitching the little cart after him as if it were a feather's weight ; and thougli, as we gained the top, we saw the wagons of our deserted comrades just getting into motion, we had little fear that they could overtake us. Leaving the trail, we struck directly across the country, and took the shortest cut to reach the main stream of the Platte. A deep ravine suddenly intercepted us. We skirted its sides until we found them less abrupt, and then plunged through in the best way we could. Passing behind the sandy ravines called *' Ash Hollow," we stojiped 86 THE OREGON TRAIL. for a short nooning at the side of a pool of rain-water ; but soon resinned our journey, and some hours before sunset descended the ravines and gorges opening down ward upon tlie Phitte west of Ash Hollow. Our horses waded to the fetlock in sand ; the sun scorched like fire, and the air swarmed with sand-flies and mosquitoes. At last we gained the Platte. Follo^Ying it for about five miles, we saw, just as the sun was sinking, a great meadow, dotted with hundreds of cattle, and beyond them an encampment of emigrants. A party of them came cut to meet us, looking upon us at first with cold and suspi- cious faces. Seeing four men, different in appearance 'nd equipment from themselves, emerging from the hills, they had taken us for the van of the much-dreaded Mormons, whom they were very apprehensive of encountering. We made known our true character, and then they greeted us cordially. They expressed much surprise that so small a party should venture to traverse that region, though in fact such attempts are often made by trappers and Indian traders. We rode with tlicm to their camp. The wagons, some fifty in number, with here and there a tent inter- vening, were arranged as iL-^ual in a circle ; the best horses were picketed in the area within, and the whole circumference was glowing with the dusky light of fires, displaying the forms of the women and children who were crowded around them. Tbis patriarchal scene was curious and striking enough : but we made our escape from the place with all possible dispatch, being tormented by the intrusive questioning of the men who thronged about us. Yankee curiosity was nothing to theirs. They demand- ed our names, whence we came, whither we were going, and what was our business. The last query was par- ticularly embarrassing: since travelling in that country, or indeed anywhere, from any other motive than gain, TAKING FRENCH LEAVE. H7 was an idea of which they took no cognizance. Yet they were fine-looking fellows, with an air of frankness, gen- erosity, and even coiu'tesy. having come from one of the least barbarous of the frontier counties. "We passed about a mile beyond them, and encamped. Being too few in number to stand guard without excessive fatiguf;, we extinguished our fire, lest it should attract the notice of wandering Indians : and. picketing our horses close around us. slept undisturbed till morning. For three days we travelled without interruption, and on the even- ing of the third encamped by the well-known spring on Scott"s Bluff. Henry Chatillon and I rode out in the morning, and, descending the western side of the Bluff, were crossing the plain beyond. Something that seemed to me a file of buffalo came into view, descending the hills several miles before us. But Henry reined in his horse, and, peering across the prairie with a better and more practised eye, soon discovered its real nature. '' Indians ! " he said. " Old Smoke's lodges, I b'lieve. Come ; let us go ! Wah ! get up, now, ' Five Hundred Dollar.' " And laying on the lash with good will, he galloped forward, and I rode by his side. Not long after, a black speck became visible on the prairie, full two miles off. It grew larger and larger ; it assumed the form of a man and horse ; and soon we could discern a naked Indian, careering at full gallop towards us. When within a furlong he wheeled his horse in a wide circle, and made him describe vari- ous mystic figures upon the prairie ; Henry immediately compelled "Five Hundred Dollar" to execute similar evolutions. " It is Old Smoke's village," said he. inter- preting these signals ; " didn't I say so ? '" As the Indian approached we stopped to wait for him, when suddenly he vanished, sinking, as it were, into the 88 THE OREGON TRAIL. earth. He had come upon one of the deep ravines that everywhere intersect these prairies. In an instant the rough head of his horse stretched upward from the edge, and the rider and steed came scrambling out, and bounded up to us ; a sudden jerk of the rein brought the wild [lanting horse to a full stop. Then followed the needful formality of shaking hands. I forget our visitor's name. He was a young fellow, of no note in his nation ; yet in his person and equipments he was a good specimen of a Dahcotah warrior in his ordinary travelling dress. Lik most of his people, he was nearly six feet high ; lit' .y and gracefully, yet strongly proportioned ; and \s ith a skin singularly clear and delicate. He wore no paint ; his head was bare ; and his long hair was gathered in a clump behind, to the top of which was attached trans- versely, both by way of ornament and of talisman, the mystic whistle, made of the wing-bone of the war-eagle, and endowed with various magic virtues. From the back of his head descended a line of glittering brass plates, tapering from the size of a doubloon to that of a half- dime, a cumbrous ornament, in high vogue among the Dahcotahs, and for which they pay the traders a most extravagant price ; his chest and arms were naked, the buffalo robe, worn over them when at rest, had fallen about his waist, and was confined there by a belt. This, with the gay moccasins on his feet, completed his attire. For arms he carried a quiver of dog-skin at his back, and a rude but powerful bow in his hand. His horse had no bridle ; a cord of hair, lashed around his jaw, served in place of one. The saddle was made of wood covered with raw hide, and both pommel and cantle rose perpen- dicularly full eighteen inches, so that the warrior waa wedged firmly in his seat, whence nothing could dislodge him but the bursting of the girths. TAKING FRENCH LEAVE. 89 Advancing with our new companion, we found more of his people, seated in a circle on the top of a hill ; while a rude procession came straggling down the neighboring hollow, men, women, and children, with horses dragging the lodge-poles behind them. All that morning, as wo moved forward, tall savages were stalking silently about us. At noon we reached Horse Creek. The main body of the Indians had .arrived before us. On the farther bank stood a large and strong man, nearly naked, hold- >g a white horse by a long cord, and eying us as we aj. -oached. This was the chief, whom Henry called " Olu Smoke." Just behind him, his youngest and favor- ite squaw sat astride a fine mule, covered with capari- sons of whitened skins, garnished with blue and white beads, and fringed with little ornaments of metal that tinkled with every movement of the animal. The girl had a light clear complexion, enlivened by a spot of ver- milion on each cheek ; she smiled, not to say grinned, upon us, showing two gleaming rows of white teeth. In her hand she carried the tall lance of her unchivalrous lord, fluttering with feathers; his round white shield hung at the side of her mule ; and his pipe was slung at her back. Her dress was a tunic of deer-skin, made beautifully white by means of a species of clay found on the prairie, ornamented with beads, arranged in figures more gay than tasteful, and with long fringes at all the seams. Not far from the chief stood a group of stately figures, their white buffalo-robes thrown over their shoul- ders, gazing coldly upon us ; and in the rear, for several acres, the ground was covered with a temporary encami> ment. Warriors, women, and children swarmed like bees ; hundreds of dogs, of all sizes and colors, ran restlessly about ; and, close at hand, the wide shallow stream was alive with boys, girls, and young squaws, splashing, scream 90 THE OREGON TRAIL. ing, and laughing in the water. At the same time a long train of emigrants with their heavy wagons was crossing the creek, and dragging on in slow procession by the encampment of the people whom they and their descend- ants, in the space of a century, are to sweep from the face of the earth. The encampment itself was merely a temporary one during tlie heat of the day. None of the lodges were pitched ; but their heavy leather coverings, and the long j>oles used to support them, were scattered everywhere, among weapons, domestic utensils, and the rude harness of mules and horses. The squaws of each lazy warrior had made him a shelter from the sun, by stretcliing a few butfalo-robes. or the corner of a lodge-covering, upon poles; and here he sat in the shade, with a favorite young squaw, perhaps, at his side, glittering with all imaginable trinkets. Before him stood the insignia of his rank as a warrior, his white shield of bull-hide, his medicine-bag, his bow and quiver, his lance and his pipe, raised aloft on a tripod of poles. Except the dogs, the most active and noisy tenants of the camp were the old women, ugly as Macbeth's witches, with hair streaming loose in the wind, and nothing but the tattered fragment of an old but^hlo-robe to hide their shrivelled limbs. The day of their favoritism passed two generations ago ; now, the heaviest labors of the camp devolved upon them ; they must harness the liorses, pitch the lodges, dress the buftakvrobes, and bring in meat for the hunters. With the cracked voices of these hags, the clamor of dogs, the shouting and laughing of children and girls, and the list- less tranquillity of the warriors, the whole scene had an ertect too lively and picturesque to be forgotten. We stopped not far from the Indian camp, and having invited some of the chiefs and warriors to dinner, placed TAKING FRENCH LEAVE. 91 before them a repast of biscuit and coffee. Squatted in a half circle on the ground, they soon disposed of it. As we rode forward on the afternoon journey, several of our late guests accompanied us. Among the rest was a bloated savage, of more than three hundred pounds' weight, christened Le Cochon, in consideration of his preposterous dimensions, and certain corresponding traits of his character. " The Hog " bestrode a little white pony, scarcely able to bear up under the enormous burden, though, by way of keeping up the necessary stimulus, the rider kept both feet in constant motion, playing alter nately against his ribs. The old man was not a chief; ho never had ambition enough to become one ; he was not a warrior nor a hunter, for he was too fat and lazy ; but he was the richest man in the village. Riches among the Dahcotahs consist in horses, and of these " The Hog" had accunudated more than thirty. He had already ten times as many as he wanted, yet still his appetite for horses was insatiable. Trotting up to me, ho shook me by the hand, and gave me to understand that he was my devoted friend ; then he began a series of signs and gesticulation, his oily countenance radiant with smiles, and his little eyes peeping out with a cunning twinkle from between the masses of flesh that almost obscured them. Knowing nothing at that time of the sign-language of the Indians, I could only guess at his meaning. So I called on Henry to explain it. " The Hog," it seems, was anxious to conclude a mat- rimonial bargain, and barter one of his daughters for my horse. These overtures I chose to reject ; at which " The Hog," still laughing with undiminished good humor, gathered his robe about his shoulders, and rode away. "Where we encamped that night, an arm of the Platte ran between high blutfs ; it was turbid and swift as here 92 THE OREGON TRAIL. tofore, but trees were growing on its crumbling banks, and there was a nook of grass between the water and the hill. Just before entering this place, we saw the emi- grants encamping two or three miles distant on the right ; while the whole Indian rabble were pouring down tlie neighboring hill in hope of the same sort of enter- tainment which they had experienced from us. In the savage landscape before our camp, nothing but the rush- ing of the Platte broke the silence. Through the raggt boughs of the trees, dilapidated and half dead, we saw the sun setting in crimson behind the peaks of the Black Hills ; the restless bosom of the river was suffused with red ; our white tent was tinged with it, and the sterile bluffs, up to the rocks that crowned them, partook of the same fiery hue. It soon passed away ; no light remained but that from our fire, blazing high among the dusky trees and bushes, while we lay around it wrapped in our blankets, smoking and conversing through half the night. We crossed a sun-scorched plain on the next morning ; the line of old cotton-wood trees that fringed the bank of the Platte forming its extreme verge. Nestled close l)e- neath them, we could discern in the distance something like a building. As we came nearer, it assumed form and dimensions, and proved to be a rough structure of logs. It was a little trading fort, belonging to two private traders ; and originally intended, like all the forts of the country, to form a hollow square, with rooms for lodging and storage opening upon the area within. Only two sides of it had liecn completed ; the place was now as ill-fitted for the purposes of defence as any of those little log-houses, which upon our constantly-shifting fron- tier have been so often successfully held against over- whel'ning odds of Indians. Two lodges were pitched close to the fort ; the sun beat scorching upon the logs ; TAKING FRENCH LEAVE. 93 110 liviiig thing was stirring except one old squaw, who thrust her round head from the opening of the nearest lodge, and three or four stout young puppies, who were peeping with looks of eager inquiry from under the cover- ing. In a moment a door opened, and a little, swarthy, black-eyed Frenchman came out. His dress was rather singular ; his black curling hair was parted in the middle '^f his head, and fell below his shoulders ; he wore a tight -Ock of smoked deer-skin, gayly ornamented with figures worked in dyed porcupine-quills. His moccasins and leggins were also gaudily adorned in the same manner ; and the lattei* had in addition a line of long fringes, reaching down the seams. The small frame of Richard, for by this name Henry made him known to us, was in the highest degree athletic and vigorous. There was no superfluity, and indeed there seldom is among the white men of this country, but every limb was compact and hard ; every sinew had its full tone and elasticity, and the whole man wore an air of mingled hardihood and buoyancy. Richard committed our horses to a Navalio slave, a mean-looking fellow, taken prisoner on the Mexican fron- tier ; and, relieving us of our rifles with ready politeness, led the way into the principal apartment of his establish- ment. This was a room ten feet square. The walls and floor were of black mud, and the roof of rough timber; there was a huge fireplace made of four flat rocks, picked up on the prairie. An Indian bow and otter-skin quiver, several gaudy articles of Rocky Mountain finery, an Indian medicine-bag, and a pipe and tobacco-pouch, garnished the walls, and rifles rested in a corner. There was no furniture except a sort of rough settle, covered with buf- falo-robes, upon which lolled a tall half-breed, with his hail- glued in masses upon each temple, and saturated 94 THE OREGON TRAIL. with vermilion. Two or three more " mountain men " sat cross-legged on the floor. Their attire was not un- like that of Richard himself; but the most striking figure of the group was a naked Indian boy of sixteen, with a handsome face, and light, active proportions, who sat in an easy posture in the corner near the door. Not one of his limbs moved the breadth of a hair ; his eye was fixed immovably, not on any person present, but, as it appeared, on the projecting corner of the fireplace opposite to him. On the prairie the custom of smoking with friends is seldom omitted, whether among Indians or whites. The pipe, therefore, was taken from the wall, and its red bowl crammed with the tobacco and shongsasha, mixed in suit- able proportions. Then it passed round the circle, each man inhaling a few whiffs and handing it to his neighbor. Having spent half an hour here, we took our leave ; first inviting our new friends to drink a cup of coffee with us at our camp a mile farther up the river. By this time we had grown rather shabby ; our clothes had burst into rags and tatters ; and, what was worse, we had little means of renovation. Fort Laramie was but seven miles before us. Being averse to appearing in such a plight among any society that could boast an approximation to the civilized, we stopped by the river to make our toilet in the best way we could. We hung up small looking-glasses against the trees and shaved, an operation neglected for six weeks ; we performed our ablutions in the Platte, though the utility of such a pro- ceeding was questionable, the water looking exactly like a cup of chocolate, and the banks consisting of the softest and richest yellow mud, so that we were obliged, as a preliminary, to build a causeway of branches and twigs Having also put on radiant moccasins, procured from a squaw of Richard's establishment, and made what uthei TAKING FRENCH LEAVE. 95 improeements our narrow circumstances allowed, we took our seats on the grass with a feeling of greatly increased respectability, to await the arrival of our guests. They came ; the banquet was concluded, and the pipe smoked. Bidding them adieu, we turned our horses' heads towards the fort. An hour elapsed. The barren hills closed across our front, and we could see no farther ; until, having sur- mounted them, a rapid stream appeared at the foot of the descent, running into the Platte ; beyond was a gi-een meadow, dotted with bushes, and in the midst of these, at the point where the two rivers joined, were the low clay walls of a fort. This was not Fort Laramie, but an- other post, of less recent date, which having sunk before its successful competitor, was now deserted and ruinous. A moment after, the hills seeming to draw apart as we advanced, disclosed Fort Laramie itself, its high bastions and perpendicular walls of clay crowning an eminence on the left beyond the stream, while behind stretched a line of arid and desolate ridges, and behind these again, towering seven thousand feet aloft, rose the grim Black Hills. We tried to ford Laramie Creek at a point nearly op posite the fort, but the stream, swollen with rains, was too rapid. We passed up along its bank to find a better crossing place. Men gathered on the wall to look at us. " Tliere's Bordeaux ! " called Henry, his face brightening as he recognized his acquaintance ; " him there with the spy-glass ; and there's old Vaskiss, and Tucker, and May ; and, by George ! there's Simoneau." This Sira- oneau was Henry's fast friend, and the only man in the country who could rival him in hunting. We soon found a ford. Henry led the way, the pony approachirig the bank with a countenance of cool indiffer- ence, bracing his feet and sliding into the stream with 96 THE OREGON TRAIL. the most uiimuved composure. We followed ; the water boiled against our saddles, but our horses bore us easily tlu'ough. The uufortunate little mules were near going down with the current, cart and all ; and we watched them with some solicitude scrambling over the loose round stones at the bottom, and bracing stoutly against the stream. All landed safely at last ; we crossed a little plain, descended a hollow, and, riding up a steep bank, found ourselves before the gateway of Fort Lai-amie, under the impending blockhouse erected above it to defend the entrance. CHAPTER IX. SCENES AT FORT LARAMIE. T OOKING back, after the expiration of a year, upon -■— ' Fort Laramie and its inmates, they seem less like a reality than like some fanciful picture of the olden time ; so different was the scene from any which this tamer side of the world can present. Tall Indians, en- veloped in their white buffalo-robes, were striding across the area or reclining at full length on the low roofs of the buildings which enclosed it. Numerous squaws, gayly bedizened, sat grouped in front of the rooms they occu- pied ; their mongrel offspring, restless and vociferous, rambled in every direction through the fort ; and the trap- pers, traders, and engages of the establishment were busy at their labor or their amusements. We were met at the gate, but by no means cordially welcomed. Indeed, we seemed objects of some distrust and suspicion, until Henry Chatillon explained that we were not traders, and we, in confirmation, handed to the bourgeois a letter of introduction from his principals. He took it, turned it upside down, and tried hard to read it ; but his literary attainments not being adequate to the task, he applied for relief to the clerk, a sleek, smiling Frenchman, named Monthalon. The letter read, Bor- deaux (the bourgeois) seemed gradually to awaken to a sense of what was expected of him. Though not deficient in hospitable intentions, he was wholly unaccustomed to 7 98 THE OREGON TRAIL. act as master of ceremonies. Discarding all formalities of reception, he did not honor us with a single word, but walked swiftly across the area, while we followed in some admiration to a railing and a flight of steps opposite the entrance. He signed to us that we had better fasten our horses to the railing ; ihcn ho walked np the steps, tramped along a rude balcony, and, kicking open a door, displayed a large room, rather more elaborately furnished than a barn. For fiu-niture it had a rough bedstead, but no bed ; two chairs, a chest of drawers, a tin pail to hold wate % and a board to cut tobacco upon. A brass crucifix hung on the wall, and close at hand a recent scalp, with hair full a yard long, was suspended from a nail. I shall again have occasion to mention this dismal trophy, its history being connected with that of our subsequent proceedings. This apartment, the best in Fort Laramie, was that usually occupied by the legitimate bourgeois, Pa pin, in whose absence the command devolved upon Bordeaux. The latter, a stout, bluff little fellow, much inflated by a sense of his new authority, began to roar for buffalo-robes. These being brought and spread upon the floor, formed our beds ; much better ones than we had of late been accustomed to. Our arrangements made, we stepped out to the balcony to take a more leisurely survey of the lung looked-for haven at which we had arrived at last. Beneath us was the square area surrounded by little rooms, or rather cells, which opened upon it. These were devoted to various jiui-poses, but served chiefly for the accommo- daHon of the men employed at the fort, or of the equally nu-uerous squaws whom they were allowed to maintain in it. Opitosite to us rose the blockhouse above the gate- way ; it was adorned with the figure of a horse at full speed, daubed upon the boards with red paint, and exhib- iting a degree of skill which might rival that displayed by SCENES AT FORT LARAMIE. 99 the Indians in executing similar designs upon their robes and lodges. A busy scene was enacting in the area. The wagons of Vaskiss, an old trader, were about to set out for a remote post in the mountains, and the Canadians were going through their preparations with all possible bustle, while here and there an Indian stood looking on witli imperturbable gravity. Fort Laramie is one of the posts established by the •' American Fur Company," which well-nigh monopolizes the Indian trade of this region. Here its officials rule with an absolute sway ; the arm of the United States has little force ; for when we were there, the extreme outposts of her troops were about seven hundred miles to tlie east ward. The little fort is built of bricks dried in the sun, and externally is of an oblong form, \fith bastions of clay, in the form of ordinary blockhouses, at two of the corners. The walls are about fifteen feet high, and sur- mounted by a slender palisade. Tlie roofs of tlie apart- ments within, which are built close against the walls, serve the purpose of a banquette. Within, the fort is divided by a partition : on one side is the square area, surrounded by the store-rooms, offices, and apartments of the inmates ; on the other is tlie corral^ a narrow place, encompassed by the high clay walls, where at night, or in presence of dangerous Indians, tlie horses and mules of the fort are crowded for safe keeping. Tlie main entrance has two gates, with an arched passage intervening. A little square window, liigh above the ground, opens later ally from an adjoining chamber into this passage; so that when the inner gate is closed and barred, a person with- out may still hold communication with those within, through this narrow aperture. This obviates the neces- sity of admitting suspicious Indians, for purposes of trading, into t''*^ body of the fort : for when danger ia lOU THE OREGON TRAIL. apprehended, the inner gate is shut fast, and all traffic is carried on by means of the window. This precaution, though necessary at some of the Company's posts, is seldom resorted to at Fort Laramie ; where, though men are frequently killed in the neighborhood, no apprehen- sions are felt of any general designs of hostility from the Indians. "We did not long enjoy our new quarters undisturbed. The door was silently pushed open, and two eyeballs and a visage as black as night looked in upon us ; then a red arm and shoulder intruded themselves, and a tall Indian, gliding in, shook us by the hand, grunted his salutation, and sat down on the floor. Others followed, with faces of the natural Inie, and letting fall their heavy robes from tlieir shoulders, took their seats, quite at ease, in a semi- circle before us. The pipe was now to be lighted and passed from one to another ; and this was the only enter- tainment that at present they expected from us. These visitors were fathers, brothers, or other relatives of the squaws in the fort, where they were permitted to remain, loitering about in perfect idleness. All those who smoked with us were men of standing and repute. Two or three others dropped in also ; young fellows who neitlier by their years nor their exploits were entitled to rank with the old men and warriors, and who, abashed in the pres- ence of their superiors, stood aloof, never withdrawing their eyes from us. Their cheeks were adorned with vermilion, their ears witli pendants of shell, and their necks with beads. Never yet having signalized them- selves as hunters, or performed the honorable exploit of killing a man, they were held in slight esteem, and were diffident and bashful in proportion. Certain formidable inconveniences attended this influx of visitors. They were bent on inspecting every thing in the room ; om SCENES AT FORT LARAMIE. 10] equipments and our dress alike underwent their scrutiny , for though the contrary has been asserted, few beings have more curiosity than Indians in regard to subjects within their ordinary range of thought. As to other matters, indeed, they seem utterly indifferent. They will not trouble themselves to inquire into what they cannot comprehend, but are quite contented to place their hands over their mouths in token of wonder, and exclaim that it is " great medicine." With this comprehensive solu- tion, an Indian never is at a loss. He never launches into speculation and conjecture ; his reason moves in its beaten track. His soul is dormant ; and no exertions of the missionaries, Jesuit or Puritan, of the old world or of the new, have as yet availed to arouse it. As we were looking, at sunset, from the wall, upon the desolate plains that surround the fort, we observed a cluster of strange objects, like scaffolds, rising in the dis- tance against the red western sky. They bore aloft some singular-looking burdens ; and at their foot glimmered something white, like bones. This was the place of sepul- ture of some Dahcotah chiefs, whose remains their people are fond of placing in the vicinity of the fort, in the hope that they may thus be protected from violation at the hands of their enemies. Yet it has happened more than once, and quite recently, that war parties of the Crow Ifjdians, ranging through the country, have thrown tlie bodies from the scaffolds, and broken them to pieces, amid the yells of the Dahcotah, who remained pent up in the fort, too few to defend the honored relics from insult The white objects upon the ground were buffalo skulls, arranged in the mystic circle, commonly seen at Indian places of sepulture upon the prairie. We soon discovered, in the twilight, a band of fifty or sixty horses aj)proaching the fort. These were the an- 102 THE OREGON TRAIL. iuials belonging to the establishment ; who, having been sent out to feed, under the care of armed guards, in the meadows below, were now being driven into the corral for the night. A gate opened into this inclosure : by the side of it stood one of the guards, an old Canadian, witL gray bushy eyebrows, and a dragoon-pistol stuck into his belt ; while his comrade, mounted on horseback, his rifle laid across the saddle in front, and his long hair blowing before his swarthy face, rode at the rear of the disorderly troop, urging them up the ascent. In a moment the narrow corral was thronged with the half-wild horses, kicking, biting, and crowding restlessly together. The discordant jingling of a bell, rung by a Canadian in the area, summoned us to supper. The repast was served on a rough table in one of the lower apartments of the fort, and consisted of cakes of bread and dried buffalo meat — an excellent thing for strengthening the teeth. At this meal were seated the bourgeois and supe- rior dignitaries of the establishment, among whom Henry Chatillon was worthily included. No sooner was it finished, than the table was spread a second time (the luxury of bread being now, however, omitted), for the benefit of certain Imnters and trappers of an inferior standing ; while tlie ordinary Canadian engagSs were re- galed on dried meat in one of their lodging rooms. By way of illustrating the domestic economy of Fort Laramie, it may not be amiss to introduce in this place a story cur- rent among the men when we were there. There was an old man named Pierre, whose duty it was to bring the meat from the store-room for the men. (»ld Pierre, in the kindness of his heart, used to select the fattest and the best pieces for his companions. This did not long escape the keen-eyed bourgeois^ who was greatly disturbed at such imnrovidence. and cast about for some SCENES AT FORT LARAMIE. lOiJ means to stop it. At last he hit on a plan that exactly suited him. At the side of the meat-room, and separated from it by a clay partition, was another apartment, used for the storage of furs. It had no communication with the fort, except through a square hole in the partition ; and of course it was perfectly dark. One evening the bourgeois, watching for a moment when no one observed him, dodged into the meat-room, clambered through the hole, and ensconced himself among the furs and buffalo- robes. Soon after, old Pierre came in with his lantern , and, muttering to himself, began to pull over the bales of meat, and select the best pieces, as usual. But sud- denly a hollow and sepulchral voice proceeded from the inner room : " Pierre, Pierre ! Let that fat meat alone. Take nothing but lean." Pierre dropped his lantern, and bolted out into the fort, screaming, in an agony of terror, that the devil was in the store-room ; but tripping on the threshold, he pitched over upon the gravel, and lay sense- less, stunned by the fall. The Canadians ran out to the rescue. Some lifted the unlucky Pierre ; and others, making an extempore crucifix of two sticks, were pro- ceeding to attack the devil in his stronghold, when the bourgeois, with a crestfallen countenance, appeared at the door. To add to his mortification, he was obliged to explain the whole stratagem to Pierre, in order to bring him to his senses. We were sitting, on the following morning, in the passage-way between the gates, conversing with the traders Vaskiss and May. These two men, together with our sleek friend, the clerk Monthalon, were, I believe, the only persons then in the fort who could read and write. May was telling a curious story about the traveller Catlin, when an ugly, diminutive Indian, wretchedly mounted, came up at a gallop, and rode by us into the fort. On 104 THE OREGON TRAIL. being questioned, he said that Smoke's village was close at hand. Accordingly only a few minutes elapsed before the hills beyond the river were covered with a disorderly swarm of savages, on horseback and on foot. May fin- ished his story ; and by that time the whole array had descended to Laramie Creek, and begun to cross it in a mass. I walked down to the bank. The stream is wide, and was then between three and four feet deep, with a very swift current. For several rods the water was alive with dogs, horses, and Indians. The long poles used in pitching the lodges are carried by the horses, fastened by the heavier end, two or three on each side, to a rude sort of pack-saddle, while the other end drags on the ground. About a foot behind the horse, a kind of large basket or pannier is suspended between the poles, and firmly lashed in its place. On the back of the horse are piled various articles of luggage ; the basket also is well filled with domestic utensils, or, quite as often, with a litter of puppies, a brood of small children, or a super- annuated old man. Numbers of these curious vehicles, traineauxy or, as the Canadians called them, travaux, were now splashing together through the stream. Among them swam countless dogs, often burdened with miniature traineaux ; and dashing forward on horseback through the throng came the warriors, the slender figure of some lynx-eyed boy clinging fast behind them. The women sat perched on the pack-saddles, adding not a little to the load of the already overburdened horses. The confusion was prodigious. The dogs yelled and howled in chorus ; the puppies in the traineaux set up a dismal whine as the water invaded their comfortable retreat ; the little black- eyed children, from one year of age upward, clung fast with both hands to the edge of their basket, and looked over in alarm at the wator rushing so near them, sputter SCENES AT FORT LARAMIE. 105 ing and making wry mouths as it splashed against their faces. Some of the dogs, encumbered by their load, were carried down by the current, yelping piteously ; and the old squaws would rush into the water, seize their favorites by the neck, and drag them out. As each horse gained the bank, he scrambled up as he could. Stray horses and colts came among the rest, often breaking away at full speed through the crowd, followed by the old hags, screaming after their fashion on all occasions of excite- ment. Buxom young squaws, blooming in all the charms of vermilion, stood here and there on the bank, holding aloft their master's lance, as a signal to collect the scat- tered portions of his household. In a few moments the crowd melted away ; each family, with its horses and equipage, filing off to the plain at the rear of the fort ; and here, in the space of half an hour, arose sixty or seventy of their tapering lodges. Their horses were feeding by hundreds over the surrounding prairie, and their dogs were roaming everywhere. The fort was full of warriors, and the children were whooping and yelling incessantly under the walls. These new-comers were scarcely arrived, when Bor deaux ran across the fort, shouting to his squaw to bring him his spy-glass. The obedient Marie, the very model of a squaw, produced the instru.xient, and Bordeaux hurried with it to the wall. Pointing it eastward, he exclaimed, with an oath, that the families were coming. But a few moments elapsed before the heavy caravan of the emigrant wagons could be seen, steadily advancing from the hills. They gained the river, and, without turn- ing or pausing, plunged in, passed through, and slowly ascending the opposing bank, kept directly on their way by the fort and the Indian village, until, gaining a spot a quarter of a mile distant, they wheeled into a circle. For 106 THE OREGON TRAIL. some time our tranquillity was undisturbed. The emi- grants were preparing their encampment ; but no sooner was this accomplished, than Fort Laramie was ta ken by storm. A crowd of broad-brimmed hats, thin visages, and staring eyes, appeared suddenly at the gate. Tall, awkward men, in brown homespun ; women, with cadav- erous faces and long lank figures, came thronging in together, and, as if inspired by the very demon of ciirios- ity, ransacked every nook and corner of the fort. Dis- mayed at this invasion, we withdrew in all speed to our chamber, vainly hoping that it might prove a sanctuary. The emigrants prosecuted their investigations with untir- ing vigor. They penetrated the rooms, or rather dens, inhabited by the astonished squaws. Resolved to search every mystery to the bottom, they explored the apart- ments of the men, and even that of Marie and the bour- geois. At last a numerous deputation appeared at our door, but found no encouragement to remain. Having at length satisfied their curiosity, they next proceeded to business. The men occupied themselves in procuring supplies for their onward journey ; either buy- ing them, or giving in exchange superfluous articles of their own. The emigrants felt a violent prejudice against the French Indians, as they called the trappers and traders. They thought, and with some reason, that tliese men bore them no good-will. Many of them were firmly persuaded tliat the French were instigating the Indians to attack and cut them off. On visiting the encampment we were at once struck with the extraordinary perplexity and indecision that prevailed among them. They seemed like men totally out of their element; bewildered and amazed, like a troop of schoolboys lost in the woods. It was impossible to be long among them without being con- SCENES AT FORT LARAMIE. 101 Bcious of the bold spirit with which most of them were animated. But the forest is the home of the backwoods- man. On the remote prairie he is totally at a loss. He differs as much from the genuine " mountain-man " as a Canadian voyageur, paddling his canoe on the rapids of the Ottawa, differs from an American sailor among the storms of Cape Horn. Still my companion and I were somewhat at a loss to account for this perturbed state of mind. It could not be cowardice: these men were of the same stock with the volunteers of Monterey and Buena Vista. Yet, for the most part, they were the rudest and most ignorant of, the frontier population ; they knew absolutely nothing of the country and its inhabitants ; they had already experienced much misfortune, and apprehended more ; they had seen nothing of mankind, and had never put their own resources to the test. A full share of suspicion fell upon us. Being strangers, we were looked upon as enemies. Having occasion for a supply of lead and a few other necessary articles, we used to go over to the emigrant camps to obtain them. After some hesitation, some dubious glances, and fumbling of the hands in the pockets, the terms would be agreed upon, the price tendered, and the emigrant would go off to bring the article in question. After waiting until our patience gave out, we would go in search of him, and find hira seated on the tongue of liis wagon. " Well, stranger," he would observe, as he saw us ap- proach, " I reckon I won't trade." Some friend of his had followed him from the scene of the bargain, and whispered in his ear that clearly we meant to cheat him, and he had better have nothing to do with us. This timorous mood of the emigrants was doubly un- fortunate, as it exposed them to real danger. Assume, in the presence of Indians, a boM bearing, self-confident yet 108 THE OREGON TRAIL. vigilant, and you will find tliem tolerably safe neigliliors. But your safety depends on the respect and fear you are able to inspire. If you betray timidity or indecision, you convert them from that moment into insidious and dan- gerous enemies. The Dahcotah saw clearly enough the perturbation of the emigrants, and instantly availed them- selves of it. They became extremely insolent and exact- ing in their demands. It has become an established custom with them to go to the camp of every party, as it arrives in succession at the fort, and demand a feast. Smoke's village had come with this express design, hav- ing made several days' journey with no other object than that of enjoying a cup of coffee and two or three biscuit. So the " feast " was demanded, and the emigrants dared not refuse it. One evening, about sunset, the village was deserted. We met old men, warriors, squaws, and children in gay attire, trooping off to the encampment, with faces of an- ticipation ; and, arriving here, they seated themselves in a semicircle. Smoke occupied the centre, with his war- riors on either hand ; the young men and boys came next, and the squaws and children formed the horns of the crescent. The biscuit and coffee were promptly des- patched, the emigrants staring open-mouthed at their savage guests. With each emigrant party that arrived at Fort Laramie this scene was renewed ; and every day the Indians grew more rapacious and presumptuous. One evening they broke in pieces, out of mere wantonness, the cups from which they had been feasted : and this so ex- asperated the emigrants, that many of them seized their rifles and could scarcely be restrained from firing on the insolent mob of Indians. Before we left the country this dangerous spirit on the part of the Dahcotah had mounted to a yet higher pitch. They began openly to threaten thfl SCENES AT FORT LARAMIE. 109 emigrants with destruction, and actually fired upon one or two parties of tlicra. A military force and military law are urgently called for in that perilous region ; and unless troops are speedily stationed at Fort Laramie, or else- wliere in the neighborhood, both emigrants and other travellers will be exposed to most imminent risks. The Ogillallah, the Brule, and the other western bands of the Dahcotah or Sioux, are thorough savages, un- changed by any contact with civilization. Not one of them can speaic a European tongue, or has ever visited au American settlement. Until within a year or two, when the emigrants began to pass through their country on the way to Oregon, they had seen no whites, except -the few employed about the Fur Company's posts. They thought them a wise people, inferior only to themselves, living in leather lodges, like their own, and subsisting on buffalo. But when the swarm of Meneaska, with their oxen and wagons, began to invade them, their astonishment was unbounded. They could scarcely believe that tiie earth contained such a multitude of white men. Their wonder is now giving way to indignation ; and the result, unless vigilantly guarded against, may be lamentable in the ex treme. But to glance at the interior of a lodge. Shaw and 1 used often to visit them. Indeed we spent most of our evenings in the Indian village, Shaw's assumption of the medical character giving us a fair pretext. As a sample of the rest I will describe one of these visits. The sun had just set, and the horses were driven into the corral. The Prairie Cock, a noted beau, came in at the gate with a bevy of young girls, with whom he began a dance in the area, leading them round and round in a circle, while he jerked up from his chest a succession of monot- onous sounds, to which they kept time in a rueful chant 110 THE OREGON TRAiL. Outside the gate bojs and young men were idly frolicking ; and close by, looking grimly upon them, stood a warrior in his robe, with his face painted jet-black, in token that he had lately taken a Pawnee scalp. Passing these, the tall dark lodges rose between us and the red western sky. We rei)aired at once to the lodge of Old Smoke himself. It was by no means better than the others ; indeed, it was rather shabby ; for in this democratic community the chief never assumes superior state. Smoke sat cross-legged on a buffalo-robe, and his grunt of salutation as we entered was unusually cordial, out of respect no doubt to Shaw's medical character. Seated around the lodge were several squaws, and an abundance of children. The complaint of Shaw's patients was, for the most part, a severe inflam- mation of the eyes, occasioned by exposure to the sun, a species of disorder which he treated with some success. He had brought with him a homoeopathic medicine-chest, and was, I presume, the first who introduced that harm- less system of treatment among the Ogillallah. No sooner had a robe been spread at the head of the lodge for our accommodation, and we had seated ourselves upon it, than a patient made her appearance : the chief's daughter herself, who, to do her justice, was the best-looking girl in the village. Being on excellent terms with the physi- cian, slie placed herself readily under his hands, and sub- mitted with a good grace to his applications, laughing in his face during the whole process, for a squaw hardly knows how to smile. This case despatched, another of a different kind succeeded. A hideous, emaciated old wo man sat in the darkest corner of the lodge, rocking to and fro with pain, and hiding her eyes from the light by press ing the palms of both hands against her face. At Smoke's* command she came forward, very unwillingly, and ex- hibited a p«i»' of eyes that had nearly disappeared from SCENES AT FORT LARAMIE. 1 1 1 excess of inflammation. No sooner had the doctor fastened his grip upon her, than she set up a dismal moaning, and writhed so in his grasp that he lost all patience ; but being resolved to carry his point, he succeeded at last in apply- ing his favorite remedies. " It is strange," he said, when the operation was fin ished, " that I forgot to bring any Spanish flies ^ith me ; we must have something here to answer for a counter- irritant." So, in the absence of better, he seized upon a red-hot brand from the fire, and clapped it against the temple of the old squaw, who set up an unearthly howl, at which the rest of the family broke into a laugh. During these medical operations Smoke's eldest squaw entered the lodge, with a mallet in her hand, the stone head of wliich, precisely like those sometimes ploughed up in the fields of New England, was made fast to the handle by a covering of raw hide. I had observed some time before a litter of well-grown black puppies, comfort- ably nestled among some buffalo-robes at one side ; but this new-comer speedily disturbed their enjoyment ; for seizing one of them by the hind paw, she dragged him out, and carrying him to the entrance of the lodge, ham- mered him on the head till she killed him. Conscious to what this preparation tended, I looked through a hole in the back of the lodge to see the next steps of the process. The squaw, holding the puppy by the legs, was swinging him to and fro through the blaze of a fire, until the hair was singed off". This done, she unsheathed her knife and cut him into small pieces, which slie dropped into a kettle to boil. In a few moments a large wooden dish was set before us, filled with this delicate preparation. A dog- feast is the greatest compliment a Dahcotah can offer to his guest; and, knowing that to refuse eating would be an 112 THE OREGON TRAIL. affront, we attacked the little dog, and devoured him before the eyes of his unconscious parent. Smoke in the mean time was preparing his great pipe. It was lighted when we had finished our repast, and we passed it from one to another till the bowl was empty. This done, we took our leave without farther ceremony, knocked at the gate of the fort, and after making ourselves known, were admitted. CHAPTER X. THE WAE PARTIES. THE summer of 18-16 was a season of warlike excite- ment among all the western bands of the Dahcotah. In 18-15 they encountered great reverses. Many war parties had been sent out ; some of them had been cut off, and others had returned broken and disheartened ; so that the whole nation was in mourning. Among the rest, ten warriors had gone to the Snake country, led by the son of a prominent Ogillallah chief, called The Whirlwind. In passing over Laramie Plains they encountered a supe- rior number of their enemies, were surrounded, and killed to a man. Having performed this exploit, the Snakes became alarmed, dreading the resentment of the Dahcotah, and they hastened therefore to signify their wish for peace by sending the scalp of the slain partisan, with a small parcel of tobacco attached, to his tribesmen and relations. They had employed old Yaskiss, the trader, as their mes- senger, and the scalp was the same that hung in our room at the fort. But The Whirlwind proved inexorable. Though his character hardly corresponds with his name, he is nevertheless an Indian, and hates the Snakes with his whole soul. Long before the scalp arrived, he had made his preparations for revenge. He sent messengers with presents and tobacco to all the Dahcotah within three hundred miles, proposing a grand combination to chastise the Snakes, and naming a place and time of rendezvous, 8 114 THE OREGON TRAIL. The plan was readily adopted, and at this moment many villages, probably embracing in the whole five or six thousand souls, were slowly creeping over the prairies and tending toward the common centre at " La Bont(5's camp," on the Platte. Here their warlike rites were to be celebrated with more than ordinary solemnity, and a thousand warriors, as it was said, were to set out for the enemy's country. The characteristic result of this preparation will appear in the sequel. I was greatly rejoiced to hear of it. I had come into the country chiefly with a view of obser\ang the Indian character. To accomplish my purpose it was necessary to live in the midst of them, and become, as it were, one of them. I proposed to join a village, and make myself an inmate of one of their lodges ; and henceforward this narrative, so far as I am concerned, will be chiefly a record of the progress of this design, and the unexpected impedi- ments that opposed it. "We resolved on no account to miss the rendezvous at " La Bonte's camp." Our plan was to leave Deslauriers at the fort, in charge of our equipage and the better part of our horses, while we took with us nothing but our weapons and the worst animals we had. In all proba- bility, jealousies and quarrels would arise among so niany liordes of fierce impulsive savages, congregated together under no common head, and many of them strangers from remote prairies and mountains. We were bound in common prudence to be cautious how we excited any feel- ing of cupidity. This was our plan ; but unhappily we were not destined to visit " La Bonte's camp " in this manner, for one morning a young Indian came to the fort and brought us evil tidings. The new-comer was an arrant dandy. His ugly face was painted with vermilion; on liis head fluttered the tail of a prairie-cock (a large THE WAR PARTIES. 115 a|jecies of pheasant, not found, as I have heard, eastward of the Rocky Mountains) ; in his ears were hung pen- dants of shell, and a flaming red blanket was wrapped around him. He carried a dragoon-sword in his hand, solely for display, since the knife, the arrow, and the rifle are the arbiters of every prairie fight ; but as no one in this country goes abroad unarmed, the dandy carried a bow and arrows in an otter-skin quiver at his back. In this guise, and bestriding his yellow horse with an air of extreme dignity, " The Horse," for that was his name, rode in at the gate, turning neither to the right nor the left, but casting glances askance at the groups of squaws who, with their mongrel progeny, were sitting in the sun before their doors. The evil tidings brought by " The Horse " were of the following import : The squaw of Henry Chatillon, a woman with whom he had been con- nected for years by the strongest ties which in that coun- try exist between the sexes, was dangerously ill. She and her children were in the village of The Whirlwind, at the distance of a few days' journey. Henry was anxious to see the woman before she died, and provide for the safety and support of his children, of whom he was ex- tremely fond. To have refused him this would have been inhumanity. We abandoned our plan of joining Smoke's village, and proceeding with it to the rendez- vous, and determined to meet The Whirlwind, and go in his company. I had been slightly ill for several weeks, but on the third night after reaching Fort Laramie a violent pain awoke me, and I found myself attacked by the same dis- order that occasioned such heavy losses to the army on the Rio Grande. In a day and a half I was reduced to extreme weakness, so that I could not walk without pain and effort. Having no medical adviser, nor any choice 116 THE OREGON TRAIL. uf diet, 1 resolved to throw myself upon Providence foi recoveiy, using, without regard to the disorder, any por- tion of strength that might remain to me. So on the twentieth of June we set out from Fort Laramie to meet The Whirlwind's village. Though aided by the high- bowed •' mountain-saddle," I could scarcely keep my seat on horseback. Before we left the fort we hired another man, a long-haired Canadian, named Raymond, with a face like an owl's, contrasting oddly enough with Des- lauriers's mercmial countenance. This was not the only reinforcement to our party. A vagrant Indian trader, named Eeynal, joined us, together with his squaw. Mar- got, and her two nephews, our dandy friend, '* Tlie Horse," and his younger brother, " The Hail Storm."' Thus accompanied, we betook oiu-selves to the prairie, leaving the beaten trail, and passing over the desolate hills that flank the valley of Laramie Creek. In all, Indians and whites, we counted eight men and one woman. Eeynal, the trader, the image of sleek and selfish com- placency, earned " The Horse's " dragoon-sword in his hand, delighting apparently in this useless parade ; for, from spending half his life among Indians, he had caught not only their habits but their ideas. Margot, a female animal of more than two hundred poimds" weight, was couched in the basket of a traineau, such as I have before described ; besides her ponderous bulk, various domestic utensils were attached to the vehicle, and she led by a trail-rope a packhorse, which carried the covering of Eeynal's lodge. Deslauriei"S walked briskly by the side of the cart, and Eaymond came behind, swearing at the spare horses which it was his business to drive. Tlie restless young Indians, their quivers at their backs and their bows in their hands, gaUoped over the hills, often THE "VVAR PARTIES. 117 starting a wolf or an antelope from the thick growth of "ftild-sagj bushes. Shaw and I were in keeping with the rest of the rude cavalcade, ha^nng in the failure of other clothing adopted the buckskm attire of the trappers. Henry Chatillon rode in advance of the whole. Thus we passed hill after hill and hollow after hollow, a country arid, broken, and so parched by the sun that none of the plants familiar to our more favored soil would flourish upon it, though there were multitudes of strange medici- nal herbs, more especially the absinth, which covered every declivity, while cacti were hanging like reptiles at the edges of every ravine. At length we ascended a high hill, our horses treading upon pebbles of flint, agate, and rough jasper, until, gaining the top, we looked down on the wUd bottoms of Laramie Creek, which far below us woimd like a writhing snake from side to side of the narrow interval, amid a growth of shattered cotton-wood and ash trees. Lines of tall cliffs, white as chalk, slnit in this green strip of woods and meadow-land, into which we descended and encamped for the night. In the morn- ing we passed a wide grassy plain by the river ; there was a grove in front, and beneath its shadows the ruins of an old trading fort of logs. The grove bloomed with myriads of wild roses, with their sweet perfume fraught ^ith recollections of home. As we emerged from tlie trees, a rattlesnake, as large as a man's arm, and more than four feet long, lay coiled on a rock, fiercely rattling and hissing at us ; a gray hare, twice as large as those of New England, leaped up from the tall ferns : curlew flew screaming over our heads, and a host of little prairie- dogs sat yelping at us at the mouths of their burrows on the dry plain beyond. Suddenly an antelope leaped up from the wild-sage bushes, gazed eagerly at us, and then, erecting his white tail, streUjhed away like a greyhouiid 118 THE OREGON TRAIL. The two Indian boys found a white wolf, as large as a calf, in. a hollow, and, giving a sharp yell, they galloped after him ; hut the wolf leaped into the stream and swam across. Then came the crack of a rifle, the bullet wliistling harmlessly over his head, as he scrambled up the steep declivity, rattling down stones and earth into the water below. Advancing a little, we beheld, on the farther bank of the stream, a spectacle not common even in that region ; for. emerging from among the trees, a herd of some two hundred elk came out upon the meadow, their antlers clattering as they walked forward in a dense throng. Seeing us, they broke into a run, rushing across the opening and disappearing among the trees and scat- tered groves. On our left was a barren prairie, stretching to the horizon ; on our right, a deep gulf, with Laramie Creek at the bottom. We found ourselves at length at the edge of a steep descent ; a narrow valley, with lon^ rank grass and scattered trees stretching before us for a mile or more along the course of the stream. Reaching the farther end. we stopped and encamped. A huge old cotton-wood tree spread its branches horizontally over our tent. Laramie Creek, circling before our camp, half inclosed us ; it swept along the bottom of a line of tall white cliffs that looked down on us from the farther bank. There were dense copses on our right ; the cliffs, too, were half hidden by bushes, though behind us a few cotton-wood trees, dotting the green prairie, alone im- peded the view, and friend or enemy could be discerned in tliat direction at a mile's distance. Here we resolved to remain and await the arrival of The Whirlwmd, who would certainly pass this way in his progress towards La Bont^'s camp. To go in search of him was not exped- ient, both on account of the broken and impracticable nature of the country, and the uncertainty of his position THE WAR PARTIES. 119 and movements ; besides, our horses were almost worn out, and I was in no condition to travel. We liad good grass, good water, tolerable fish from the stream, and plenty of small game, such as antelope and deer, though no buffalo. There was one little drawback to our satis- faction : a certain extensive tract of bushes and dried grass, just behind us, which it was by no means advisable to enter, since it sheltered a numerous brood of rattle- isnakes. Henry Chatillon again despatched "The Horse" to the village, with a message to his squaw that she and her relatives should leave the rest and push on as rapidly as possible to our camp. Our daily routine soon became as regular as that of a well-ordered household. The weather-beaten old tree was in the centre ; our rifles generally rested against its vast trunk, and our saddles were flung on the ground around it ; its distorted roots were so twisted as to form one or two convenient arm-chairs, where we could sit in the shade and read or smoke ; but meal-times became, on the whole, the most interesting hours of the day, and a bountiful provision was made for them. An antelope or a deer usually swung from a bough, and haunches were sus- pended against the trunk. That camp is daguerreotyped on my memory : the old tree, the white tent, with Shaw sleeping in the shadow of it, and Reynal's miserable lodge close by the bank of the stream. It was a wretched oven- shaped structure, made of begrimed and tattered buffalo- hides stretched ovei; a frame of poles ; one side was open, and at the side of the opening hung the powder-horn and bullet-pouch of the owner, together with his long red pipe, and a ricli quiver of otter-skin, with a bow and furrows ; for Rcynal, an Indian in most things but color, chose to hunt buffalo with these primitive weapons. In the dark- ness of tliis cavern-like habitation midit be d~ seemed 120 THE OREGON TRAIL. Madame Margot, her overgrown bulk stowed away amon" her domestic implements, furs, robes, blankets, and painted cases of raw hide, in which dried meat is kept. Here she sat from sunrise to sunset, an impersonation of gluttony and laziness, while her affectionate proprietor was smok- ing, or begging petty gifts from us, or telling lies concern- ing his own achievements, or perchance engaged in the more profitable occupation of cooking some preparation of prairie delicacies. Reynal was an adept at this work ; he and Deslauriers have joined forces, and are hard at work together over the fire, while Eaymond spreads, by way of table-cloth, a buffalo-hide carefully whitened with pipeclay,on the grass before the tent. Here he arranges the teacups and plates ; and then, creeping on all fours, like a dog, thrusts his head in at the opening of the tent. For a moment we see his round owlish eyes rolling wildly, as if the idea he came to communicate had suddenly es- caped him ; then collecting his scattered thoughts, as if by an effort, he informs us that supper is ready, and in- stantly withdraws. When sunset came, and at that hour the wild and des- olate scene would assume a new aspect, the horses were driven in. They had been grazing all day in the neighbor- ing meadow, but now they were picketed close about the camp. As the prairie darkened we sat and conversed around the fire, until, becoming drowsy, we spread our saddles on the ground, wrapped our blankets around us, and lay down. We never placed a guard, having by this time become too indolent ; but Henry Chatillon folded his loaded rifle in the same blanket with himself, observing that he always took it to bed with him when he 'camped in that place. Henry was too bold a man to use such a precaution without good cause. We had a hint now and then that our situation was none of the safest ; several THE WAR PARTIES. 121 Crow war-parties were known to be in the vicinity, and one of them, that passed here some time before, had peeled the bark from a neighboring tree, and engraved ypon the white wood certain hieroglyphics, to signify that they had invaded the territories of their enemies, the Dahcotah, and set them at defiance. One morning a thick mist covered the whole country. Shaw and Henry went out to ride, and soon came back with a startling piece of intelligence ; they had found within rifle-shot of our camp the recent trail of about thirty horsemen. They could not be whites, and they could not be Dahcotah, since we knew no such parties to be in the neighborhood ; there fore they must be Crows. Thanks to that friendly mist, we had escaped a hard battle ; they would inevitably have attacked us and our Indian companions had they seen our camp. Whatever doubts we might have entertained, were removed a day or two after, by two or three Dahcotah, who came to us with an account of having hidden in a ritvine on that very morning, from whence they saw and counted the Crows ; they said that they followed them, carefully keeping out of sight, as they passed up Chug- water ; that here the Crows discovered five dead bodies of Dahcotah, placed according to custom in trees, and flinging them to the ground, held their guns against them and blew them to atoms. If our camp were not altogether safe, still it was com- fortable enough ; at least it was so to Shaw, for I was tormented with illness and vexed by the delay in the ac- complishment of my designs. When a respite in my dis- order gave me some returning strength, I rode out well armed upon the prairie, or bathed with Shaw in the stream, or waged a petty warfare with the inhabitants of a neigh- boring prairie-dog village. Around our fire at night we employed ourselves in inveighing against the fickleness 122 THE OREGON TRAIL. and inconstancy of Indians, and execrating The Whirl- wind and all his crew. At last the thing grew insuffer- able. " To-morrow morning," said I, " I will start for the fort, and see if I can hear any news there." Late that evening, when tlie fire had sunk low, and all the camp were asleep, a loud cry sounded from the darkness. Benrj leaped up, recognized the voice, replied to it, and our dandy friend, "The Horse," rode in among us, just returned from his mission to the village. He coolly picketed his mare, without saying a word, sat down by the fire and began to eat, but his imperturbable philosophy was too much for our patience. Where was the village ? - about fifty miles south of us ; it was moving slowly, and would not arrive in less than a week. And where was Henry's squaw ? — coming as fast as she could with Mahto- Tatonka, and the rest of her brothers, but she would never reach us, for she was dying, and asking every mo- ment for Henry. Henry's manly face became clouded and downcast; he said that if we were willing he would go in the morning to find her, at which Shaw offered to accompany him. We saddled our liorses at sunrise. Reynal protested vehemently against being left alone, with nobody but the two Canadians and the young Indians, when enemies were in the neighborhood. Disregarding his complaints, we left him, and, coming to the mouth of Chugwater, sepa- rated, Shaw and Henry turning to the right, up the bank of the stream, while I made for the fort. Taking leave for a while of my friend and the unfortu- nate squaw, I will relate by way of episode what I saw and did at Fort Laramie. It was not more than eighteen miles distant, and I reached it in three hours. A shrivelled little figure, wrapped from head to foot in a dingy white THE WAR PARTIES. 123 Canadian capote, stood in the gateway, holding by a cord of bull-hide a shaggy wild-horse, which he had lately caught. His sharp prominent features, and his keen snake-like eyes, looked out from beneath the shadowy hood of the capote, which was drawn over his head like the cowl of a Capuchin friar. His face was like an old piece of leather, and his mouth spread from ear to ear. Extending his long wiry hand, he welcomed me "with something more cordial than the ordinary cold salute of an Indian, for we were excellent friends. "We had made an exchange of horses to our mutual advantage ; and Paul, thinking himself well treated, had declared every- where that the white man had a good heart. He was a Dahcotah from the Missouri, a reputed son of the half- breed interpreter, Pierre Dorion, so often mentioned in Irving' s " Astoria." He said that he was going to Rich- ard's trading-house to sell his horse to some emigrants, who were encamped there, and asked me to go with him. We forded the stream together, Paul dragging his wild charge behind him. As we passed over the sandy plains beyond, he grew communicative. Paul was a cosmopol- itan in his way ; he had been to the settlements of the whites, and visited in peace and war most of the tribes within the range of a thousand miles. He spoke a jargon of French and another of English, yet nevertheless he was a thorough Indian ; and as he told of the bloody deeds of his own people against their enemies, his little eyes would glitter with a fierce lustre. He told how the Dahcotah exterminated a village of the Hohays on the Upper Missouri, slaughtering men, women, and children ; and how, in overwhelming force, they cut off sixteen of the brave Delawares, who fought like wolves to the last, amid the throng of their enemies. He told me also an- othei story, which I did not believe until I had heard it 124 THE OREGON TRAIL. confirmed from so many independent sources that my skepticism was almost overcome. Six years ago, a fellow named Jim Beckworth, a mon- grel of French, American, and negro blood, was trading for the Fur Company, in a large village of the Crows. Jim Beckworth was last summer at St. Louis. He is a ruffian of the worst stamp ; bloody and treacherous, without hone r or honesty ; such at least is the character he bears upon Ihe prairie. Yet in his case the standard rules of character fail, for though he will stab a man in his sleep, he will also perform most desperate acts of daring ; such, for instance, as the following : While he was iu the Crow village, a Blackfoot war-party, between thirty and forty in number, came stealing through the coun- try, killing stragglers and carrying off horses. The Crow warriors got upon their trail and pressed them so closely that they could not escape, at which the Black- feet, throwing up a semi-circular breastwork of logs at the foot of a precipice, coolly awaited their approach. The logs and sticks, piled four or five feet high, protected them in front. The Crows might have swept over the breastwork and exterminated their enemies ; but though outnumbering them tenfold, they did not dream of storm- ing the little fortification. Such a proceeding would be altogether repugnant to their notions of warfare. Whoop- ing and yelling, and jumping from side to side like devils incarnate, they showered bullets and arrows upon the logs ; not a Blackfoot was hurt, but several Crows, in spite of their leaping and dodging, were shot down. In this childish manner, the fight went on for an hour or two. Now and then a Crow warrior in an ecstasy of valor and vainglory would scream forth his war-song, boast himself the bravest and greatest of mankind, grasp his hatchet, rush up, strike it upon the breas'iwork. THE WAR PARTIES. 125 and then as he retreated to his companions, fall dead under a shower of arrows ; yet no combined attack was made. The Blackfeet remained secure in their intrench- ment. At last Jim Beckworth lost patience. " You are all fools and old women," he said to the Crows ; " come with me, if any of you are brave enough, and I will show you how to fight." He threw off his trapper's frock of buckskin and stripped himself naked, like the Indians themselves. He left his rifle on the ground, took in his hand a small light hatchet, and ran over the prairie to the right, concealed by a hollow from the eyes of the Blackfeet. Then climb- ing up the rocks, he gained the top of the precipice behind them. Forty or fifty young Crow warriors followed him. By the cries and whoops that rose from below he knew that the Blackfeet were just beneath him ; and running forward he leaped down the rock into the midst of them. As he fell he caught one by the long loose hair, and dragging him down tomahawked him ; then grasping another by the belt at his waist, he struck him also a stunning blow, and, gaining his feet, shouted the Crow war-cry. He swung his hatchet so fiercely around him, that the astonished Blackfeet bore back and gave h^'m room. He might, had he chosen, have leaped over the breastwork and escaped ; but this was not necessary, for with devilish yells the Crow warriors came dropping in quick succession over the rock among their enemies. The main body of the Crows, too, answered the cry from the front, and rushed up simultaneously, Tlie convidsive struggle within the breastwork was frightful ; for an in- etant the Blackfeet fought and yelled like pentrup tigers ; but the butchery was soon complete, and the mangled bodies lay piled together under the precipice. Not a Blackfoot made his escape. 126 THE OREGON TRAIL. As Paul finished his story we came in sight of Rich- ard's Fort, a disorderly crowd of men around it, and an emigrant camp a little in front. " Now, Paul," said I, " where are your Minnicongew lodges ? " "Not come yet," said Paul; "maybe come to-morrow." Two large villages of a band of Dahcotah had come three hundred miles from the Missouri, to join in the war, and they were expected to reach Richard's that morning. There was as yet no sign of their approach ; so pushing through a noisy, drunken crowd, I entered an apartment of logs and mud, the largest in the fort : it was full of men of various races and complexions, all more or less drunk. A company of California emigrants, it seemed, had made the discovery at this late day that they had eiicumbered themselves with too many supplies for their journey. A part, therefore, they had thrown away, or sold at great loss to the traders ; but had determined to get rid of their very copious stock of Missouri whiskey, by drink- ing it on the spot. Here were maudlin squaws stretched on piles of bufifalo-robes ; squalid Mexicans, armed with bows and arrows ; Indians sedately drunk ; long-haired Canadians and trappers, and American backwoodsmen in brown homespun, the well-beloved pistol and bowie-knife displayed openly at their sides. In the middle of the room a tall, lank man, with a dingy broadcloth coat, was haranguing the company in the style of the stump orator. With one hand he sawed the air, and with the other clutched firmly a brown jug of whiskey, which he applied every moment to his lips, forgetting that he had drained the contents long ago. Richard formally introduced me to this personage, who was no less a man than Colonel R , once the leader of the party. Instantly the Colo- nel seizing me, in the absence of buttons, by the leather THE WAR PARTIES. 127 fHnges of my frock, began to define his position. Hia men, he said, had mutinied and deposed him; but still he exercised over them the influence of a superior mind ; ill all but the name he was yet their chief. As the Colo- nel spoke, I looked round on the wild assemblage, and could not help thinking that he was but ill fitted to con duct such men across the deserts to California. Con spicuous among the rest stood three tall young men, grandsons of Daniel Boone. They had clearly inherited the adventurous character of that prince of pioneers; but I saw no signs of the quiet and tranquil spirit that so remarkably distinguished him. Fearful was the fate that, months after, overtook some of the members of that party. General Kearney, on his late return from CaliforD'n, brought back their story. They were interrupted bj the deep snows among the mountains, and, maddened by cold and hunger, fed upon each other's flesh ! I got tired of the confusion. " Come, Paul," said I, " we will be off"." Paul sat in the sun, under the wall of the fort. He jumped up, mounted, and we rode towards Fort Laramie, When we reached it, a man came out of the gate with a pack at his back and a rifle on his shoulder ; others were gathering about him, shak ing him by the hand, as if taking leave. I thought it a strange thing that a man should set out alone and on foot for the prairie. I soon got an explanation. Per rault — this, if I recollect right, was the Canadian's name — had quarrelled with the bourgeois^ and the fort was too hot to hold him. Bordeaux, inflated with liig transient authority, had abused him, and received a blow in return. The men then sprang at each other, and grappled in the middle of the fort. Bordeaux was down in an instant, at the mercy of the incensed Canadian , 128 THE OREGON TRAIL. had not an old Indian, the brother of his squaw, seized hold of his antagonist, it would have fared ill with him. Perrault broke loose from the old Indian, and both the white men ran to their rooms for their guns ; but when Bordeaux, looking from his door, saw the Canadian, gun in hand, standing in the area ^nd calling on him to come out and fight, his heart failed liim ; he chose to remain where he was. In vain the old Indian, scandalized by his brother-in-law's cowardice, called upon him to go to the prairie and fight it out in the white man's manner ; and Bordeaux's own squaw, equally incensed, screamed to her lord and master that he was a dog and an old woman. It all availed nothing. Bordeaux's prudence got the better of his valor, and he would not stir. Per- rault stood showering opprobrious epithets at the recreant bourgeois^ till, growing tired of this, he made up a pack of dried meat, and, slinging it at his back, set out alone for Fort Pierre, on the Missouri, a distance of three hundred miles, over a desert country, full of hostile Indians. 1 remained in the fort that night. In the morning, as I was coming out from breakfast, talking with a trader named McCluskey, I saw a strange Indian leaning against the side of the gate. He was a tall, strong man, with heavy features. "Who is he?" I asked. " Tliat's The Whirlwind," said McCluskey. " He is the fellow that made all this stir about the war. It's always the way with the Sioux ; they never stop cutting each other's throats ; it's all they are fit for ; instead of sitting in their lodges, and getting robes to trade with us in the winter. If this war goes on, we'll make a poor trade of it next season, I reckon." And this was the opinion of all the traders, who were vehemently opposed to the war, from the injury that it THE WAR PARTIES. 129 must occasion to their interests. The Whirlwind left his village the day before to make a visit to the fort. His warlike ardor had abated not a little since he first con- ceived the design of avenging his son's death. The long and complicated preparations for the expedition were too much for his fickle disposition. That morning Bordeaux fastened upon him, made him presents, and told him that if he went to war he would destroy his horses and kill no buffalo to trade with the white men ; in short, that he was a fool to think of such a thing, and had better make up his mind to sit quietly in his lodge and smoke his pipe, like a wise man. The "Whirlwind's purpose was evidently shaken ; he had become tired, like a child, of his favorite plan. Bordeaux exultingly predicted that he would not go to war. My philanthropy was no match for my curi osity, and I was vexed at the possibility that after all I might lose the rare opportunity of seeing the ceremonies of war. The Whirlwind, however, had merely thrown the firebrand ; the conflagration was become general. All the western bands of the Dahcotah were bent on war ; and, as I heard from McCluskcy, six large villages were al ready gathered on a little stream, forty miles distant, and were daily calling to the Great Spirit to aid them in their enterprise. McCluskey had just left them, and repre- sented them as on their way to La Bont^'s camp, which they would reach in a week, unless they should learn thxt there were no buffalo there. I did not like this condition, for buffalo this season were rare in the neighborhood. There were also the two Minnicongew villages that I men- tioned before ; but about noon, an Indian came from Richard's Fort with the news that they were quarrelling, breaking up, and dispersing. So much for the whiskey of the emigrants ! Finding themselves unable to drink the whole, they had sold the residue to these Indians, and it 9 130 THE OREGON TRAIL. needed no prophet to foretell the result ; a spark dropped into a powder-magazine would not have produced a quicker effect. Instantly the old jealousies and rivalries and smothered feuds that exist in an Indian village broke out into furious quarrels. They forgot the warlike enterprise that had already brought them three hundred miles. They seemed like ungovcrned children inflamed with the fiercest passions of men. Several of them were stabbed in the drunken tumult ; and in the morning they scattered and moved back towards the Missouri in small parties. I feared that, after all, the long-projected meeting and the ceremonies that were to attend it might never take place, and I should lose so admirable an opportunity of seeing the Indian under his most fearful and characteristic as- pect ; however, in foregoing this, I should avoid a very fair probability of being plundered and stripped, and it might be, stabbed or shot into the bargain. Consoling myself with this reflection, I prepared to carry the news, such as it was, to the camp. I caught my horse, and to my vexation found that he had lost a shoe and broken his hoof against the rocks. Horses are shod at Fort Laramie at the moderate rate of three dollars a foot ; so I tied Hendrick to a beam in the corral, and summoned Roubidou, the blacksmith. Roubidou, with the hoof between his knees, was at work with hammer and file, and I was inspecting the process, when a strange voice addressed me. " Two more gone under ! Well, there's more cf us left yet. Here's Gingras and me off" to the mountains to-morrow. Our turn will come next, I suppose. It's a hard life, anyhow ! " I looked up and saw a man, not much more than five feet high, but of very square and strong proportions. In ap])earance he was particularly dingy ; for his old buck- THE WAR PARTIES. 131 skin frock was black and polished with time and grease, and his belt, knife, pouch, and powder-horn appeai-ed to have seen the roughest service. The first joint of each foot was entirely gone, having been frozen off several winters before, and his moccasins were curtailed in pro- portion. His whole appearance and equipment bespoke the " free trapper." He had a round ruddy face, ani- mated with a spirit of carelessness and gayety not at all in accordance with the words he had just spoken. " ' Two more gone,' " said I ; " what do you mean by that?" " Oh, the Arapahoes have just killed two of us in the mountains. Old Bull-Tail has come to tell us. They stabbed one behind his back, and shot the other with his own rifle. That's the way we live here ! I mean to give up trapping after this year. My squaw says she wants a pacing horse and some red ribbons: I'll make enough beaver to get them for her, and then I'm done ! I'll go below and live on a farm." " Your bones will dry on the prairie, Rouleau ! " said another trapper, who was standing by ; a strong, brutal- looking fellow, with a face as surly as a bull-dog's. Rouleau only laughed, and began to hum a tune and shuffle a dance on his stumps of feet. " You'll see us, before long, passing up your way," said the other man. " Well," said I, " stop and take a cup of coffee with us;" and, as it was late in the afternoon, I prepared to leave the fort at once. As I rode out, a train of emigrant wagons was passing across the stream. " Whar are ye goin', stranger ? " Thus I was saluted by two or three voices at once. " About eighteen miles up the creek." " It's mighty late to be going that far ! Make haste, 7e'd better, and keep a bright look-out for Indians ' " 132 THE OREGON TRAIL. I thought the advice too good to be neglected. Fording the stream, I passed at a round trot over the plans beyond. But " the more haste, the worse speed." I proved the truth of the proverb by the time I reached the hills three miles from the fort. The trail was faintly marked, and, riding forward with more rapidity than caution, I lost sight of it. I kept on in a direct line, guided by Laramie Creek, which I could see at intervals darkly glistening in the evening sun, at the bottom of the woody gulf on my right. Half an hour before sunset T came upon its banks. There was something exciting in the wild solitude of the place. An antelope sprang suddenly from the sage- bushes before me. As he leaped gracefully not thirty yards before my horse, I fired, and instantly he spun round and fell. Quite sure of him, I walked my horse towards him, leisurely reloading my rifle, when, to my surprise he sprang up and trotted rapidly away on three legs, into the dark recesses of the hills, whither I had no time to follow. Ten minutes after, I was passing along the bottom of a deep valley, and, chancing to look behind me, I saw in the dim light that something was following. Supposing it to be a wolf, I slid from my seat and sat down behind my horse to shoot it ; but as it came up, I saw by its motions that it was another antelope. It approached within a hundred yards, arched its neck, and gazed intently. I levelled at the white spot on its chest, and was about to fire, when it started off, ran first to one side and then to the other, like a vessel tacking against the wind, and at last stretched away at full speed. Then it stopped again, looked curiously behind it, and trotted up as before ; but not so boldly, for it soon paused and stood gazing at me. I fired ; it leaped upward and fell upon its tracks. Measur- ing the distance, I found it two hundred and four paces. When I stood by his side, the antelope turned his expiring THE WAR PARTIES. 133 eye upward. It was like a beautiful woman s, dark and bright. " Fortunate that I am in a hurry," thought I ; " I might be troubled with remorse, if I had time for it." Cutting the animal up, not in the most skilful manner, I hung the meat at the back of my saddle, and rode on again. The hills (I could not remember one of them) closed around me. "It is too late," thought I, "to go forward. I will stay here to-night, and look for the path in the morning." As a last eflfort, however, I ascended a high hill, from which, to my great satisfaction, I could see Laramie Creek stretching before me, twisting from side to side amid ragged patches of timber ; and far off, close beneath the shadows of the trees, the ruins of the old trading-fort were visible. I reached them at twilight. It was far from pleasant, in that uncertain light, to be push- ing through the dense trees and bushes of the grove beyond. I listened anxiously for the foot-fall of man or beast. Nothing was stirring but one harmless brown bird, chirping among the branches. I was glad when I gained the open prairie once more, where I could see if any thing approached. When I came to the mouth of Chugwater, it was totally dark. Slackening the reins, I let my horse take his own course. He trotted on with unerring instinct, and by nine o'clock was scrambling down the steep descent into the meadows where we were encamped. While I was looking in vain for the light of the fire, Hendrick, with keener perceptions, gave a loud neigh, which was immediately answered by another neigh from the distance. In a moment I was hailed from the darkness by the voice of Reynal, who had come out, rifle in hand, to see who was approaching. He, with his squaw, the two Canadians and the Indian boys, were the sole inmates of the camp, Shaw and Henry Chatillon being still absent At noon of the following 134 THE OREGON TRAIL. day tliey came back, their horses looking none the better for the journey. Henry seemed dejected. The woman was dead, and his children must henceforward be exposed, without a protector, to the hardships and vicissitudes of Indian life. Even in the midst of his grief he had not forgotten his attachment to his bourgeois, for he had pro- cured among his Indian relatives two beautifully orna- mented buffalo-robes, which he spread on the ground as a present to us. Shaw lighted his pipe, and told me in a few words the history of his journey. When I went to the fort they left me, as I mentioned, at the mouth of Chugwater. They followed the course of the little stream all day, traversing a desolate and barren country. Several times they came upon the fresh traces of a large war-party, the same, no doubt, from whom we had so narrowly escaped an attack. At an hour before sunset, without encounter ing a human being by the way, they came upon the lodges of the squaw and her brothers, who, in compliance with Henry's message, had left the Indian village, in order to ioin us at our camp. The lodges were already pitched, five in number, by the side of the stream. The woman lay in one of them, reduced to a mere skeleton. For some time she had been unable to move or speak. Indeed, nothing had kept her alive but the hope of see- ing Henry, to whom she was strongly and faithfully attached. No sooner did he enter the lodge than she revived, and conversed with him the greater part of the night. Early in the morning she was lifted into a trai- neau, and the whole party set out towards our camp. There were but five warriors ; the rest were women and children. The whole were in great alarm at the prox- imity of the Crow war-party, who would certainly have killed them without mercy had they met. They had THE WAR PARTIES. 135 advanced only a mile or two, when they discerned a horseman, far off, on the edge of the horizon. They all stopped, gathering together in the greatest anxiety, from which they did not recover until long after the horseman disappeared ; then they set out again. Henry was riding with Shaw a few rods in advance of the Indians, when Mahto-Tatonka, a younger brother of the woman, hastily called after them. Turning back, they found all the In- dians crowded around the traineau in which the woman was lying. They reached her just in time to hear the death-rattle in her throat. In a moment she lay dead in the basket of the vehicle. A complete stillness suc- ceeded ; then the Indians raised in concert their cries of lamentation over the corpse, and among them Shaw clearly distinguished those strange soimds resembling the word " Halleiuyah," which, together with some other acci- dental coincidences, has given rise to the absurd notion that the Indians are descended from the ten lost tribes of Israel. The Indian usage required that Henry, as well as the other relatives of the woman, should make valuable pres- ents, to be placed by the side of the body at its last rest- ing-place. Leaving the Indians, he and Shaw set out for the camp, and reached it, as we have seen, by hard push- ing, at about noon. Having obtained the necessary articles, they immediately returned. It was very late and quite dark when they again reached the lodges. They were all placed in a deep hollow among dreary hUls. Four of them were just visible through the gloom, but the fifth and largest was illumined by the blaze of a fire within, glowing through the half-transparent cover- ing of raw hides. There was a perfect stillness as they approached. The lodges seemed without a tenant. Not a living thing was stirring ; there was something awful 13G THE OREGON TRAIL. in the scene. Tliej rode up to the entrance of the lodge, and there was no sound but the tramp of their horses. A squaw came out and took charge of tlie animals, with- out speaking a word. Entering, they found the lodge crowded with Indians ; a fire was burning in the midst, and the mourners encircled it in a triple row. Room was made for the new-comers at the head of the lodge, a robe spread for them to sit upon, and a pipe lighted and handed to them in perfect silence. Thus they passed the greater part of the night. At times the fire would subside into a heap of embers, until the dark fig-ures seated around it were scarcely visible ; then a squaw would drop upon it a piece of buffalo-fat, and a bright flame instantly spring- ing up, would reveal the crowd of wild faces, motionless as bronze. The silence continued unbroken. It was a relief to Shaw when daylight returned and he could es- cape from this house of mourning. He and Henry pre- pared to return homeward ; first, however, they placed the presents they had brought near the body of the squaw, which, gaudily attired, remained in a sitting pos- ture in one of the lodges. A fine horse was picketed not far off, destined to be killed that morning for the service of her spirit ; for the woman was lame, and could not travel on foot over the dismal prairies to the villages of the dead. Food, too, was provided, and household imple- ments, for her use upon this last journey. Henry left her to the cai^e of her relatives, and came immediately with Shaw to the camp. It was some time before he entirely recovered from his dejection. CHAPTER XI. SCENES AT THE CAMP. "D EYNAL heard guns fired one day, at the distance ol •*-^ a mile or two from the camp. He grew nervoua instantly. Visions of Crow war-parties began to haunt his imagination ; and when we returned (for we were all absent), he renewed his complaints about being left alone with the Canadians and the squaw. The day after, the cause of the alarm appeared. Four trappers, called Morin, Saraphin, Rouleau, and Gingras, came to our camp and joined us. They it was who fired the guns and disturbed the dreams of our confederate Reynal. They soon encamped by our side. Their rifles, dingy and bat- tered with hard service, rested with ours against the old tree ; their strong rude saddles, their buffalo-robes, their traps, and the few rough and simple articles of their travel- ling equipment were piled near our tent. Their mountain- horses were turned to graze in the meadow among our own ; and the men themselves, no less rough and hardy, used to lie half the day in the shade of our tree, lolling on the grass, lazily smoking, and telling stories of their °dventures ; and I defy the annals of chivalry to furmsh e record of a life more wild and perilous than that of a ocky Mountain trapper. With this efficient reinforcement the agitation of Rey- il's nerves subsided. We began to conceive a sort of tachment to our old camping ground ; yet it was time 138 THE OREGON TRAIL. to change our quarters, since remaining too long on one spot must lead to unpleasant results, not to be borne unless in case of dire necessity. The grass no longer presented a smooth surface of turf; it was trampled into mud and clay. So we removed to another old tree, larger yet, that grew by the side of the river a furlong distant. Its trunk was full six feet in diameter ; on one side it was marked by a party of Indians with various inexplicable hieroglyphics, commemorating some warlike enterprise, and aloft among the branches were the remains of a scaffold, where dead bodies had once been deposited, after the Indian manner. " There comes Bull-Bear," said Henry Chatillon, as we sat on the grass at dinner. Looking up, we saw several horsemen coming over the neighboring hill, and in a moment four stately young men rode up and dismounted. One of them was Bull-Bear, or Mahto-Tatonka, a com- pound name which he inherited from his father, the prin- cipal chief in the Ogillallah band. One of his brothers and two other young men accompanied him. We shook hands with the visitors, and when we had finished our meal — for this is the approved manner of entertaining Indians, even the best of them — we handed to each a tin cup of coffee and a biscuit, at which they ejaculated from the bottom of their throats, " How ! how ! " a mono- syllable by which an Indian contrives to express half the emotions of which he is susceptible. Then we lighted the pipe, and passed it to them as they squatted on the ground. " Where is the village ? " "There," said Mahto-Tatonka, pointing southward; " it will come in two days." " Will they go to the war ? " " Yes." SCENES AT THE CAMP. 139 No man is a philanthropist on the prairie. We wel corned this news cordially, and congratulated ourselves that Bordeaux's interested efforts to divert The "Whirlwind from his congenial vocation of bloodshed had failed of success, and that no further obstacles would interpose between us, and our plan of repairing to the rendezvous at La Bont^'s camp. For that and several succeeding days, Mahto-Tatonka and his friends remained our guests. They devoured the relics of our meals ; they filled the pipe for us, and also helped us to smoke it. Sometimes they stretched themselves side by side in the shade, indulging in railery and equivocal jokes, ill becoming the dignity of brave and aspiring warriors, such as two of them in reality were. Two days dragged away, and on the morning of the third we hoped confidently to see the Indian village. It did not come ; so we rode out to look for it. In place of the eight hundred Indians we expected, we met one soli- tary savage riding towards us over the prairie, who told us that the Indians had changed their plan, and woidd not come within three days. Taking along with us this messenger of evil tidings, we retraced our footsteps to the camp, amusing ourselves by the way with execrating Indian inconstancy. When we came in sight of our little white tent under the big tree, we saw that it no longer stood alone. A huge old lodge was erected by its side, discolored by rain and storms, rotten with age, with the uncouth figures of horses and men and outstretched hands that were painted upon it, well nigh obliterated. The long poles which supported this squalid habitation thrust themselves rakishly out from its pointed top, and over its entrance were suspended a " medicine-pipe " and various other implements of the magic art. While we were yet at a distance, we observed a greatly increased population 140 THE OREGON TRAIL. ot various colors and dimensions, swarming about our quiet encampment. Morin, the trapper, hadng been absent for a daj or two, had returned, it seemed, bringing all his family with him. He had taken to himself a wife, for whom he had paid the established price of one horse. This looks cheap at first sight, but in truth the purchase of a squaw is a transaction which no man should enter into without mature deliberation, since it involves not only the payment of the price, but the burden of feeding and supporting a rapacious horde of the bride's relatives, who hold themselves entitled to feed upon the indiscreet white man. They gather about him like leeches, and drain him of all he has. Morin had not made an aristocratic match. His bride's relatives occupied but a contemptible position in Ogillallah society ; for among these democrats of the prairie, as among others more civilized, there are virtual distinctions of rank and place. Morin 's partner was not the most beautiful of her sex, and he had the bad taste to array her in an old calico gown, bought from an emigrant woman, instead of the neat tunic of whitened deer-skin usually worn by the squaws. The moving spirit of the estab- lishment was an old hag of eighty. Human imagination never conceived hobgoblin or witch more ugly than she. You could count all her ribs through the wrinkles of her leathery skin. Her withered face more resembled an old skull than the countenance of a living being, even to the hollow, darkened sockets, at the bottom of which glittered her little black eyes. Her arms had dwindled into noth- ing but whip-cord and wire. Her hair, half black, half gray, hung in total neglect nearly to the ground, and her sole garment consisted of the remnant of a discarded bufifalo-robe tied round her waist with a string of hide. Yet the old squaw's meagre anatomy was wonderfully SCENES AT THE CAMP. 141 strong. She pitched the lodge, packed the horses, and did the hardest labor of the camp. From morning till night she bustled about the lodge, screaming like a screech- owl when any thing displeased her. Her brother, a " med- icine-man," or magician, was equally gaunt and sinewy with herself. His mouth spread from ear to ear, and his appetite, as we had occasion to learn, was ravenous in proportion. The other inmates of the lodge were a young bride and bridegroom , the latter one of those idle, good- for-nothing fellows who infest an Indian village as well as more civilized communities. He was fit neither for hunt- ing nor war, as one might see from the stolid unmeaning expression of his face. The happy pair had just entered upon the honeymoon. They would stretch a buffalo-robe upon poles, to protect them from the rays of the sun, and spreading under it a couch of furs, would sit affectionately side by side for half the day, though I could not discover that much conversation passed between them. Probably they had nothing to say ; for an Indian's supply of topics for conversation is far from being copious. There were half a dozen children, too, playing and whooping about the camp, shooting birds with little bows and arrows, or making miniature lodges of sticks, as children of a dif- ferent complexion build houses of blocks. A day passed, and Indians began rapidly to come in. Parties of two, three, or more would ride up and silently seat themselves on the grass. The fourth day came at last, when about noon horsemen appeared in view on the summit of the neighboring ridge. Behind followed a wild procession, hurrying in haste and disorder down the hill and over the plain below ; horses, mules, and dogs ; heav- ily-burdened traineaux, mounted warriors, squaws walking amid the throng, and a host of children. For a full half- hour they continued to pour down ; and keeping directly 142 THE OREGON TRAIL. to the bend of the stream, within a furlong of us, they soon assembled there, a dark and confused throng, until, as if by magic, a hundred and fifty tall lodges sprang up. The lonely plain was transformed into the site of a swarm- ing encampment. Countless horses were soon grazing over the meadows around us, and the prairie was animated by restless figures careering on horseback, or sedately stalking in their long white robes. The Whirl- wind was come at last. One question yet remained to be answered : " Will he go to the war in order that we, with so respectable an escort, may pass over to the somewhat perilous rendezvous at La Bontd's camp ? " This still remained in doubt. Characteristic indecision perplexed their councils. Indians cannot act in large bodies. Though their object be of the highest impor- tance, they cannot combine to attain it by a series of con- nected efforts. King Philip, Pontiac, and Tecumseh, all felt this to their cost. The Ogillallah once had a war- chief who could control them ; but he was dead, and no'v they were left to the sway of their own unsteady im- milses. As this Indian village and its inhabitants will hold a prominent place in the rest of the story, perhaps it may not be amiss to glance for an instant at the savage people of which they form a part. The Dahcotah or Sioux range over a vast territory, from the river St. Peter to the Rocky Mountains. They are divided into several independent bands, united under no central government, and acknowl- edging no common head. The same language, usages, and superstitions form the sole bond between them. They do not unite even in their wars. The bands of the east fight the Objibwas on the Upper Lakes ; those of the west make incessant war upon the Snake Indians in the Rocky Mountains. As the whole people is divided into bands, SCENES AT THE CAMP. 143 BO each band is divided into villages. Each village has a chief, who is honored and obeyed only so far as his per- sonal qualities may command respect and fear. Some- times he is a mere nominal chief ; sometimes his authority is little short of absolute, and his fame and influence reach beyond his own village, so that the whole band to which he belongs is ready to acknowledge him as their head. This was, a few years since, the case with the Ogillallah. Courage, address, and enterprise may raise any warrior to the highest honor, especially if he be the son of a for- mer chief, or a member of a numerous family, to support him and avenge his quarrels ; but when he has reached the dignity of chief, and the old men and warriors, by a peculiar ceremony, have formally installed him, let it not be imagined that he assumes any of the outward signs of rank and honor. He knows too well on how frail a tenure he holds his station. He must conciliate his uncertain subjects. Many a man in the village lives better, owns ipore squaws and more horses, and goes better clad than he. Like the Teutonic chiefs of old, he ingratiates him- self with his young men by making them presents, there by often impoverishing himself. If he fails to gain their favor, they will set his authority at naught, and may desert him at any moment ; for the usages of his people have provided no means of enforcing his authority. Very seldom does it happen, at least among these western bands, that a chief attains to much power, unless he is the head of a numerous family. Frequently the village is princi- pally made up of his islatives and descendants, and the wandering community assumes much of the patriarchal character. The western Dahcotah liave no fixed habitations. Hunting and fighting, they wander incessantly, through summer and winter. Some follow the herds of buffalo 144 THE OREGON TRAIL. over the waste of prairie ; others traverse the Black Hills, thronging, on horseback and on foot, through the dark gulfs and sombre gorges, and emerging at last upon the " Parks," those beautiful but most perilous hunting- grounds. The buffalo supplies them with the necessaries of life ; with habitations, food, clothing, beds, and fuel ; strings for their bows, glue, thread, cordage, trail-ropes for their horses, coverings for their saddles, vessels to hold water, boats to cross streams, and the means of pur- chasing all that they want from the traders. When the buffalo are extinct, they too must dwindle away. War is the breath of their nostrils. Against most of the neighboring tribes they cherish a rancorous hatred, transmitted from father to son, and inflamed by constant aggression and retaliation. Many times a year, in every village, the Great Spirit is called upon, fasts are made, the war-parade is celebrated, and the warriors go out by handfuls at a time against the enemy. This fierce spirit awakens their most eager aspirations, and calls forth their greatest energies. It is chiefly this that saves them from lethargy and utter abasement. Without its powerful stimulus they would be like the unwarlike tribes beyond the mountains, scattered among the caves and rocks like beasts, and living on roots and reptiles. These latter have little of humanity except the form ; but the proud and ambitious Dahcotah warrior can sometimes boast heroic virtues. It is seldom that distinction and influence are attained among them by any other course than that of arms. Their superstition, however, sometimes gives great power to those among them who pretend to the character of magicians ; and their orators, such as they are, have their share of honor. But to return. Look into our tent, or enter, if you can bear the stifling smoke and the close air. There, wedged SCENES AT THE CAMP. 145 close together, you will see a circle of stout warriors, passing the pipe around, joking, telling stories, and mak- ing themselves merry after their fashion. We were also mfested by little copper-colored naked boys and snake- eyed girls. They would come up to us, muttering certain words, which being interpreted conveyed the concise in- vitation, " Come and eat." Then we would rise, cursing the pertinacity of Dahcotah hospitality, which allowed scarcely an hour of rest between sun and sun, and to which we were bound to do honor, unless we would offend our .entertainers. This necessity was particularly bur- densome to me, as I was scarcely able to walk, from the effects of illness, and was poorly qualified to dispose of twenty meals a day. So bounteous an entertainment looks like an outgushing of good-will ; but, doubtless, half at least of our kind hosts, had they met us alone and unarmed on the prairie, would have robbed us of our horses, and perhaps have bestowed an arrow upon us besides. One morning we were summoned to the lodge of an old man, the Nestor of his tribe. We found him half sitting, half reclining, on a pile of buffalo-robes ; his long hair, jet-black, though he had seen some eighty winters, hung on either side of his thin features. His gaunt but symmetrical frame did not more clearly exhibit the wreck of by-gone strength, than did his dark, wasted features, still prominent and commanding, bear the stamp of men- tal energies. Opposite the patriarch was his nephew, the young aspirant Mahto-Tatonka ; and besides these, there were one or two women in the lodge. The old man's story is peculiar, and illustrative of a Buperstition that prevails in full force among many of the Indian tribes. He was one of a powerful family, re- nowned for warlike exploits. When a very young man, 10 14b THE OREGON TRAIL. he submitted to the singular rite to which most of the tribe subject themselves before entering upon life. He painted his face black ; then seeking out a cavern in a sequestered part of the Black Hills, he lay for several days, fasting, and praying to the spirits. In the dreams and visions produced by his weakened and excited state, he fancied, like all Indians, that he saw supernatural revelations. Again and again the form of an antelope appeared before him. The antelope is the graceful peace- spirit of the Ogillallah ; but seldom is it that such a gentle visitor presents itself during the initiatory fasts of their young men. The terrible grizzly bear, the divinity of war, usually appears to fire them with martial ardor and thirst for renown. At length the antelope spoke. It told the young dreamer that he was not to follow the path of war ; that a life of peace and tranquillity was marked out for him ; that thenceforward he was to guide the people by his counsels, and protect them from the evils of their own feuds and dissensions. Others were to gain renown by fighting the enemy ; but greatness of a different kind was in store for him. The visions beheld during the period of this fast usually determine the whole course of the dreamer's life. From that time, Le Borgne, which was the only name by which W3 knew him, abandoned all thoughts of war, and devoted himself to the labors of peace. He told his vision to the people. They honored his commission and respected him in his novel capacity. A far different man was his brother, Mahto-Tatonka, who had left his name, his features, and many of his qual- ities, to his son. He was the father of Henry Chatillon's squaw, a circumstance which proved of some advantage to us, as it secured the friendship of a family perhaps the most noted and influential in the whole Ogillallah band. SCENES AT THE CAMP. 147 Mahto-Tatonka, in his way, was a hero. No chief could vie with him in warlike renown, or in power over his people. He had a fearless spirit, and an impetuous and in- flexible resolution. His will was law. He was politic and sagacious, and with true Indian craft, always befriended the whites, knowing that he might thus reap great ad- vantages for himself and his adherents. AVhen he had resolved on any course of conduct, he would pay to the war- riors the compliment of calling them together to deliberate upon it, and when their debates were over, quietly state his own opinion, which no one ever disputed. It fared hard with those who incurred his displeasure. He would strike them or stab them on the spot ; and this act, which if at-- tempted by any other chief would have cost him his life, the awe inspired by his name enabled him to repeat again and again with impunity. In a community where, from immemorial time, no man has acknowledged any law but his own will, Mahto-Tatonka raised himself to power little short of despotic. His career came at last to an end. He had a host of enemies patiently biding their time ; and our old friend Smoke in particular, together with all his kinsmen, hated him cordially. Smoke sat one day in his lodge, in the midst of his own village, when Mahto-Tatonka entered it alone, and approaching the dwelling of his enemy, challenged him in a loud voice to come out, and fight. Smoke would not move. At this, Mahto-Tatonka proclaimed him a coward and an old woman, and, striding to the entrance of the lodge, stabbed the f liief 's best horse, which was picketed there. Smoke was daunted, and even this insult failed to bring him out. Mahto-Tatonka moved haughtily away ; all made way for him ; but his hour of reckoning was near. One hot day, five or six years ago, numerous lodges of Smoke's kinsmen were gathered about some of the Fur 148 THE OREGON TRAIL. Company's men, who were trading in various articles with them, whiskey among the rest. Mahto-Tatonka was also there with a few of his people. As he lay in his own lodge, a fray arose between his adherents and the kins- men of his enemy. The war-whoop was raised, bullets and arrows began to fly, and the camp was in confusion. The chief sprang up, and rushing in a fury from the kdge shouted to the combatants on both sides to cease. In- stantly — for tlie attack was preconcerted — came the re- ports of two or three guns, and the twanging of a dozen bows, and the savage hero, mortally wounded, pitched forward headlong to the ground. Rouleau was present, and told me the particulars. The tumult became general, and was not quelled until several had fallen on both sides. When we were in the country the feud between the two families was still rankling. Thus died Mahto-Tatonka ; but he left behind him a goodly army of descendants, to perpetuate his renown and avenge his fate. Besides daughters, he had thirty sons, a number which need not stagger the credulity of those acquainted with Indian usages and practices. We saw many of them, all marked by tlie same dark complexion, and the same peculiar cast of features. Of these, our visitor, young Mahto-Tatonka, was the eldest, and some reported him as likely to succeed to his father's honors. Though he appeared not more than twenty-one years old, he had oftener struck the enemy, and stolen more horses and more squaws, than any young man in the village. Horse-stealing is well known as an avenue to distinction on the prairies, and the other kind of depredation is es- teemed equally meritorious. Not that the act can confer fame from its own intrinsic merits. Any one can steal a Bquaw, and if he chooses afterwards to make an .adequate present to her rightful proprietor, the easy husband for SCENES AT THE CAMP. 149 the most part rests content, his vengeance falls asleep, and all danger from that quarter is averted. Yet th s is regarded as a pitiful and mean-spirited transaction. The danger is averted, but the glory of the achievement also is lost. Mahto-Tatonka proceeded after a more dashing fashion. Out of several dozen squaws whom he had stolen, he could boast that he had never paid for one, but snap- ping his fingers in the face of the injured husband, had defied the extremity of his indignation, and no one yet had dared to lay the finger of violence upon him. He was following close in the footsteps of his father. The young men and the young squaws, each in their way, admired him. The former would always follow him to war, and he was esteemed to have an unrivalled charm in the eyes of the latter. Perhaps his impunity may excite some wonder. An arrow shot from a ravine, or a stab given in the dark, require no great valor, and are especially suited to the Indian genius ; but Mahto-Tatonka had a strong protec- tion. It was not alone his courage and audacious will that enabled him to career so dashingly among his com- peers. His enemies did not forget that he was one of thirty warlike brethren, all growing up to manhood. Should they wreak their anger upon him, many keen eyes would be ever upon them, and many fierce hearts thirst for their blood. The avenger would dog their footsteps everywhere. To kill Mahto-Tatonka would be an act of suicide. Though he found such favor in the eyes of the fair, he was no dandy. He was indifferent to the gaudy trappings and ornaments of his companions, and was content to rest his chances of success upon his own warlike merits. He never arrayed himself in gaudy blanket and glittering necklaces, but left his statue-like form, limbed like an Apollo of bronze, to win its way to favor. His voice was 150 THE OREGON TRAIL. Bingularly deep and strong, and sounded from his chest like the deep notes of an organ. Yet after all, he was but an Indian. See him as he lies there in the sun before our tent, kicking his heels in the air and cracking jokes with his brother. Does he look like a hero ? See him now in the hour of his glory, when at sunset the whole village empties itself to behold him, for to-morrow their favorite young partisan goes out against the enemy. His head-dress is adorned with a crest of the war-eagle's feathers, rising in a waving ridge above his brow, and sweeping far behind him. His round white shield hangs at his breast, with feathers radiating from the centre like a star. His quiver is at his back ; his tall lance in his hand, the iron point flashing against the declining sun, while the long scalp-locks of his enemies flutter from the shaft. Thus, gorgeous as a champion in panoply, he rides round and round within the great circle of lodges, balanc- ing with a graceful buoyancy to the free movements of his war-horse, while with a sedate brow he sings his song to the Great Spirit. Young rival warriors look askance at him ; vermilion-cheeked girls gaze in admiration ; boys whoop and scream in a thrill of delight, and old women yell forth his name and proclaim his praises from lodge to lodge. Mahto-Tatonka was the best of all our Indian friends. Hour after hour, and day after day, when swarms of sav- ages of every age, sex, and degree beset our camp, he would lie in our tent, his lynx-eye ever open to guard oui property from pillage. The Whirlwind invited us one day to his lodge. The feast was finished and the pipe began to circulate. It was a remarkably large and fine one, and I expressed admiration of it. " If the Meneaska likes the pipe," asked The Whirlwind^ •' whv does he not keep it ? " SCENES AT THE CAMP. 151 Such a pipe among the Ogillallah is valued at the price of a horse. The gift seemed worthy of a chieftain and a warrior ; but The Whirlwind's generosity rose to no such pitch. He gave me the pipe, confidently expecting that I in return would make him a present of equal or supe- rior value. This is the implied condition of every gift among the Indians, and should it not be complied with, the present is usually reclaimed. So I arranged upon a gaudy calico handkerchief an assortment of vermilion, tobacco, knives, and gunpowder, and summoning the chief to camp, assured him of my friendship, and begged his acceptance of a slight token of it. Ejaculating Row ! how ! he folded up the offerings and withdrew to his lodge. Late one afternoon a party of Indians on horseback came suddenly in sight from behind some clumps of bushes that lined the bank of the stream, leading with them a mule, on whose back was a wretched negro, sus- tained in his seat by the high pommel and cantle of the Indian saddle. His cheeks were shrunken in the hollow of his jaws ; his eyes were unnaturally dilated, and his lips shrivelled and drawn back from his teeth like those of a corpse. When they brought him before our tent, and lifted him from the saddle, he could not walk or stand, but crawled a short distance, and with a look of utter misery sat down on the grass. All the children and women came pouring out of the lodges, and with screams and cries made a circle about him, while he sat supporting himself with his hands, and looking from side to side with a vacant stare. The wretch was starving to death. For thirty-three days he had wandered alone on the prairie, without weapon of any kind ; without shoes, moccasins, or any other clothing than an old jacket and trousers ; without intelligence to guide his course, or any 152 THE OREGON TRAIL. knowledge of the productions of the prairie. All thia time he had subsisted on crickets and lizards, wild onions, and three eggs which he found in the nest of a prairie-dove. He had not seen a human being. Be- wildered in the boundless, hopeless desert that stretched around him, he had walked on in despair, till he could walk no longer, and then crawled on his knees, till the bone was laid bare. He chose the night for travelling, lying down by day to sleep in the glaring sun, always dreaming, as he said, of the broth and corn-cake he used to eat under his old master's shed in Missouri. Every man in the camp, both white and red, was astonished at his escape not only from starvation but from the grizzly bears, which abound in that neighborhood, and the wolves which howled around him every night. Reynal recognized him the moment the Indians brought him in. He had run away from his master about a year before and joined the party of Richard, who was then leaving the frontier for the mountains. He had lived with Richard until, at the end of May, he with Reynal and several other men went out in search of some stray horses, when he was separated from the rest in a storm, and had never been heard of to this time. Knowing his inexperience and helplessness, no one dreamed that he could still be living. The Indians had found him lying exhausted on the ground. As he sat there, with the Indians gazing silently on him, his haggard face and glazed eye were disgusting to look upon. Deslauriers made him a bowl of gruel, but he suffered it to remain untasted before him. At length he languidly raised the spoon to his lips ; again he did so, and again ; and then his appetite seemed suddenly inflamed into madness, for he seized the bowl, swallowed all its contents ii: a few seconds, and eagerly demanded SCENES AT THE CAMP. 153 meat. This we refused, telling him to wait until morn- ing ; but he begged so eagerly that we gave him a small piece, which he devoured, tearing it like a dog. He saiil he must have more. We told him that his life was in danger if he ate so immoderately at first. He assented, and said he knew he was a fool to do so, but he must have meat. This we absolutely refused, to the great indignation of the senseless squaws, who, when we were not watching him, would slyly bring dried meat and pommes blanches, and place them on the ground by his side. Still this was not enough for him. When it grew dark he contrived to creep away between the legs of the horses and crawl over to the Indian camp. Here he fed to his heart's content, and was brought back again in the morning, when Gingras, the trapper, put him on horse- back and carried him to the fort. He managed to survive the effects of his greediness. Though slightly deranged when we left this part of the country, he was otherwise in tolerable health, and expressed his firm con- viction that nothing could ever kill him. When the sun was yet an hour high, it was a gay scene in the village. The warriors stalked sedately among the lodges, or along the margin of the stream, or walked out to visit the bands of horses that were feeding over the prairie. Half the population deserted the close and heated lodges and betook themselves to the water ; and here you might see boys and girls, and young squaws, splashing, swimming, and diving, beneath the afternoon sun, with merry screams and laughter. But when the sun was resting above the broken peaks, and the purple mountains threw their shadows for miles over the prairie ; when our old tree basked peacefully in the horizontal rays, and the swelling plains and scattered groves were softened into a tranquil beauty , — then the scene around 154 THE OREGON TRAIL. our tent was worthy of a Salvator. Savagt figures, with quivers, at their backs, and guns, lances, or tomahawks in their hands, sat on horseback, motionless as statues, their arms crossed on their breasts and their eyes fixed in a steady unwavering gaze upon us. Others stood erect, wrapped from huad to foot in their long white robes of buftalo-hide. Others sat together on the grass, holding their shaggy horses by a rope, with their dark busts exposed to view as they suffered their robes to fall from their shoulders. Others again stood carelessly among the throng, with nothing to conceal the matchless symme- try of their forms. There was one in particular, a fero- cious fellow, named The Mad Wolf, who, with the bow in his hand and the quiver at his back, might have seemed, but for his face, the Pythian Apollo himself. Such a figure rose before the imagination of West, when on first seeing the Belvedere in the Vatican, he exclaimed, " By God, a Mohawk ! " When the prairie grew dark, the horses were driven in and secured near the camp, and the crowd began to melt away. Fires gleamed around, duskily revealing the rough trappers and the graceful Indians. One of the families near us was always gathered about a bright fire that lighted up the interior of their lodge. Withered, witch- like hags flitted around the blaze ; and here for hour after hour sat a circle of children and young girls, laughing and talking, their round merry faces glowing in the ruddy light. We could hear the monotonous notes of the drum from the Indian camp, with the chant of the war-song, deadened in the distance, and the long chorus of quaver- ing yells, where the war-dance was going on in the largest lodge. For several nights, too, we heard wild and mournful cries, rising and dying away like the melan- choly voice of a wolf. They came from the sisters and SCENES AT THE CAMP. 155 female relatives of Malito-Tatonka, who were gashing their limbs with knives, and bewailing the death ot Henry Chatillon's squaw. The hour would grow late before all went to rest in our camp. Then, while the embers of the fires glowed dimly, the men lay stretched in their blankets on the ground, and notliing could be heard but the restless motions of the crowded horses. I recall these scenes with a mixed feeling of pleasure and pain. At this time, I was so reduced by illness that I could seldom walk without reeling like a drunken man, and when I rose from my seat upon the ground the land- scape suddenly grew dim before my eyes, the trees and lodges seemed to sway to and fro, and the prairie to rise and fall like the swells of the ocean. Such a state of things is not enviable anywhere. In a country where a man's life may at any moment depend on the strength of his arm, or it may be on the acti"\ ity of his legs, it is more particularly inconvenient. Noi is sleeping on damp ground, with an occasional drenching from a shower, very beneficial in such cases. I sometimes suffered the ex- tremity of exhaustion, and was in a tolerably fair way of atoning for my love of the prairie, by resting there for ever. I tried repose and a very sparing diet. For a long time, with exemplary patience, I lounged about the camp, or at the utmost staggered over to the Indian village, and walked faint and dizzy among the lodges. It would not do ; and I bethought me of starvation. During five days I sustained life on one small biscuit a day. At the end of that time I was weaker than before, but the disorder seemed shaken in its stronghold, and very gradually I began to resume a less rigid diet. I used to lie languid and dreamy before our tent, mus- ing on the past and the future, and when most overcome 156 THE OREGON TRAIL. witli lassitude, my eyes turned always towards the distant Black Hills. There is a spirit of energy in mountains, and they impart it to all who approach them. At that time I did not know how many dark superstitions and gloomy legends are associated with the Black Hills in the minds of the Indians, but I felt an eager desire to pene- trate their hidden recesses, and explore the chasms and precipices, black torrents and silent forests that I Guicied were concealed there. CHAPTER XII ILL-LUCK. A CANADIAN came from Fort Laramie, and brought •^^^ a curious piece of intelligence. A trapper, fresh from the mountains, had become enamoured of a Missouri damsel belonging to a family who with otlier emigrants had been for some days encamped in the neighborhood of the fort. If bravery be the most potent charm to win the favor of the fair, then no wooer could be more irresistible than a Rocky Mountain trapper. In the present instance, the suit was not urged in vain. The lovers concerted a scheme, which tliey proceeded to carry into effect with all possible despatch. The emigrant party left the fort, and on the next night but one encamped as usual, and placed a guard. A little after midniglit, the enamoured trapper drew near, mounted on a strong horse, and leading an- other by the bridle. Fastening both animals to a tree, he stealthily moved towards the wagons, as if he were ap- proaching a band of buffalo. Eluding the vigilance of the guard, who were probably half asleep, he met his mistress by appointment at the outskirts of the camp, mounted her on his spare horse, and made off with her through the darkness. Tlie sequel of the adventure did not reach our ears, and we never learned how the imprudent fair one liked an Indian lodge for a dwelling, and a reckless trapper for a bridegroom. At Icngtli Tlie Whirlwind and his warriors determined 158 THE OREGON TRAIL. to move. Tliey had resolved after all their preparations not to go to the rendezvous at La Bont^'s camp, but to pass through the Black Hills and spend a few weeks in hunting the buffalo on the other side, until they had killea enough to furnish them with a stock of provisions and with hides to make their lodges for the next season. This done, they were to send out a small independent war-party against the enemy. Their final determination placed us in some embarrassment. Should we go to La Bont^'s camp, it was not impossible that the other callages would prove as vacillating as The Whirlwind's, and that no assembly whatever would take place. Our old companion Reynal had conceived a liking for us, or rather for our bis- cuit and coffee, and for the occasional small presents which we made him. He was very anxious that we should go with the village which he himself intended to follow. He was certain that no Indians would meet at the rendez- vous, and said, moreover, that it would be easy to convey our cart and baggage through the Black Hills. He knew, however, nothing of the matter. Neither he nor any white man with us had ever seen the difficult and obscure defiles through which the Indians intended to make their way. I passed them afterwards, and had much ado to force my dis- tressed horse alongthe narrow ravines, and through chasms where daylight could scarcely penetrate. Our cart might as easily have been driven over the summit of Pike's Peak. But of this we were ignorant ; and in view of the difficulties and uncertainties of an attempt to visit the rendezvous, we recalled the old proverb, about " A bird in the hand," and decided to follow the village. Both camps, the Indians' and our own, broke up on the morning of the first of July. I was so weak that the aid of a spoonful of whiskey, swallowed at short intervals, alone enabled me to sit my horse through the short jour- ILL-LUCK. 159 ney of that day. For half a mile before us and half a mile behind, the prairie was covered far and wide with the moving throng of savages. The barren, broken plain stretched away to the right and left, and far in front rose the precipitous ridge of the Black Hills. We pushed forward to the head of the scattered column, nassing burdened traineaux, heavily laden pack-horses, gaunt old women on foot, gay young squaws on horseback, restless children running among the crowd, old men striding along in their white bufifalo-robes, and groups of young warriors mounted on their best horses. Henry Chatillon, looking backward over the distant prairie, exclaimed suddenly that a horseman was approaching, and in truth we could just discern a small black speck slowly moving over the face of a distant swell, like a fly creeping on a wall. It rapidly grew larger as it approached. "White man, I b'lieve," said Henry; "look how he ride. Indian never ride that way. Yes ; he got rifle on the saddle before him." The horseman disappeared in a hollow of the prairie, but we, soon saw him again, and as he came riding at a gallop towards us through the crowd of Indians, his long hair streaming in the wind behind him, we recognized the ruddy face and old buckskin frock of Gingras the trapper. He was just arrived from Fort Laramie, and said he had a message for us. A trader named Bisonette, one of Henry's friends, had lately come from the settlements, and intended to go with a party of men to La Bont^'s camp, where, as Gingras assured us, ten or twelve vil- lages of Indians would certainly assemble. Bisonette desired that we would cross over and meet him there, and promised that his men should protect our horses and baggage while we went among the Indians. Shaw and I stopped our horses, held a council, and in an evil hour resolved to go. 160 THE OREGON TRAIL. For the rest of that day our course and that of the Indians was the same. In less than an hour we came to where the high barren prairie terminated, sinking down abruptly in steep descent ; and standing on the verge we saw below us a great meadow. Laramie Creek bounded it on the left, sweeping along in the shadow of the lieights, and passing with its shallow and rapid current just beneath us. We sat on horseback, waiting and looking on, while the whole savage array went pouring by, hurrying down the declivity and spreading over the meadow below. In a few moments the plain was swarming with the moving multitude, some just visible, like specks in the distance, others still hastening by and fording the stream in bustle and confusion. On the edge of the heights sat a group of the elder warriors, gravely smoking and looking with unmoved faces on the wild and striking spectacle. Up went the lodges in a circle on the margin of the stream. For the sake of quiet we pitched our tent among some trees half a mile distant. In the afternoon we were in the village. The day was a glorious one, and the whole camp seemed lively and animated in sympathy. Groups of children and young girls were laughing gayly outside the lodges. The shields, the lances, and the bows were removed from the tall tripods on which they usually hung, before the dwellings of their owners. The warriors were mounting their horses, and one by one riding away over the prairie toward the neighboring hills. Sliaw and I sat on the grass near the lodge of Reynal. An old woman, with true Indian hospitality, brought a bowl of boiled venison and placed it before us. We amused ourselves with watching a few young squaws who were playing together and chasing each other in and out of one of the lodges. Suddenly the wild yell of the war- whoop came pealing from the hills. A crowd of horse- ILL-LUCK. 161 men appeared, rushing down their sides, and riding at full speed towards the village, each warrior's long hair flying Ijehind liim in the wind like a ship's streamer. As they approached, the confused throng assumed a regular order, and entering two by two, they circled round the area at full gallop, each warrior singing his war-song as he rode. Some of their dresses were superb. They wore crests of feathers, and close tunics of antelope skins, fringed with the scalp-locks of their enemies ; many of their shields, too, fluttered with the war-eagle's feathers. All had bows and arrows at their backs ; some carried long lances, and a few were armed with guns. The White Shield, their partisan, rode in gorgeous attire at their head, mounted on a black-and-white horse. Mahto- Tatonka and his brothers took no part in this parade, for i.'rey were in mourning for their sister, and were all sitting in their lodges, their bodies bedaubed from head to foot with white clay, and a lock of hair cut from the fore- head of each. The warriors rode three times round the village ; and as each noted champion passed, the old women would scream out his name, to honor his bravery, and excite the emulation of the younger warriors. Little urchins, not two years old, followed the warlike pageant with glitter- ing eyes, and gazed with eager admiration at the heroes of their tribe. The procession rode out of the village as it had entered it, and in half an hour all the warriors had returned again, dropping quietly in, singly or in parties of two or three. The parade over, we were entertained with an episode of Indian domestic life. A vicious-looking squaw, beside herself with rage, was berating her spouse, who, with a look of total unconcern, sat cross-legged in the middle of 11 162 THE OREGON TRAIL. his lodge, smoking his pipe in silence. At length, mad- dened by his coolness, she made a rush at the lodge, seized the poles which supported it, and tugged at them, ojie after the other, till she brought down the whole structure, poles, hides, and all, clattering on his head, burying him in the wreck of his habitation. He pushed aside the hides with his hand, and presently his head emerged, like a turtle's from its shell. Still he sat smoking sedately as before, a wicked glitter in his eyes alone betraying the pent-up storm within. The squaw, scolding all the while, proceeded to saddle her horse, bestride him, and canter out of the camp, intending, as it seemed, to return to her father's lodge, wherever that might be. The warrior, who had not deigned even to look at her, now coolly arose, disengaged himself from the ruins, tied a cord of hair by way of bridle round the jaw of his buffalo-horse, broke a stout cudgel, about four feet long, from the but-cnd of a lodge-pole, mounted, and galloped majestically over the prairie to discipline his offending helpmeet. As the sun rose next morning we looked across the meadow, and could see the lodges levelled and the Indians gathering together in preparation to leave the camp. Their course lay to the westward. We turned towards the north with our three men, the four trappers following us, with the Indian family of Morin. We travelled until night, and encamped among some trees by the side of a little brook, where during the whole of the next day we lay waiting for Bisonette ; but no Bisonette appeared. Here two of our trapper friends left us, and set out for the Rocky Mountains. On the second morning, despair- ing of Bisonette's arrival, we resumed our journey, traversing a forlorn and dreary monotony of sun-scorched plains, where no living thing appeared save here and there an antelope flying before us like the wind. Wlien ILL-LUCK. 1 63 noon came we saw an unwonted and welcome sight ; a fine growth of trees, marking tlie course of a little stream called Horseshoe Creek. They stood wide asun- der, spreading a thick canopy of leaves above a surface of rich, tall grass. The stream ran swiftly, as clear as crystal, through the bosom of the wood, sparkling over its bed of white sand, and darkening again as it entered a deep cavern of foliage. I was thoroughly exhausted, and flung myself on the ground, scarcely able to move. In the morning, as glorious a sun rose upon us as ever animated that wilderness. We advanced, and soon were surrounded by tall bare hills, overspread from top to bot- tom with prickly-pears and other cacti, that seemed like clinging reptiles. A plain, flat and hard, with scarcely the vestige of grass, lay before us, and a line of tall mis- shapen trees bounded the onward view. There was no sight or sound of man or beast, or any living thing, although behind those trees was the long-looked-for place of rendezvous, where we hoped to have found the Indians congregated by thousands. We looked and listened anx- iously. We pushed forward with our best speed, and forced our horses through the trees. There were copses of some extent beyond, with a scanty stream creeping among them ; and as we pressed through the yielding branches, deer sprang up to the right and left. At length we caught a glimpse of the prairie beyond, emerged ujjon it, and saw, not a plain covered with encampments and swarming with life, but a vast unbroken desert stretching away before us league upon league, without bush or tree, or any thing that had life. We drew rein and gave to the winds our sentiments concerning the whole aboriginal race of America. Our journey was worse than vain. For myself, I was vexed beyond measure ; as I well knew that a sliglit aggravation of my disorder would render 164 THE OREGON TRAIL. this false step irrevocable, and make it impossible to ac complish effectually the object which had led me an ardu- ous journey of between three and four thousand miles. And where were the Indians ? They were mustered in great numbers at a spot about twenty miles distant, where at that very moment they were dancing their war dances. The scarcity of buffalo in the vicinity of La Bontd's camp, which would render their supply of provi- sions scanty and precarious, had probably prevented them from assembling there ; but of all this we knew nothing until some weeks after. Shaw lashed his horse and galloped forward. I, though much more vexed than he, was not strong enough to adopt this convenient vent to my feelings ; so I followed at a quiet pace. We rode up to a solitary old tree, which seemed the only place fit for encampment. Half its branches were dead, and the rest were so scantily fur- nished with leaves that they cast but a meagre and wretched shade. We threw down our saddles in the strip of shadow cast by the old twisted trunk, and sat down upon them. In silent indignation we remained smoking for an hour or more, shifting our saddles with the shifting shadow, for the sun was intolerably hot. CHAPTER XUl. HUNTING INDIANS. A T last we had reached La Bont^'s camp, towards -^^^ which our eyes had turned so long. Of all weary hours, those that passed between noon and sunset of that day may bear away the palm of exquisite discomfort. I lay under the tree reflecting on what course to pursue, watching the shadows which seemed never to move, and the sun which seemed fixed in the sky, and hoping every moment to see the men and horses of Bisonette emerging from the woods. Shaw and Henry had ridden out on a scouting expedition, and did not return till the 6un was setting. There was nothing very cheering in their faces or in the news they brought. " We have been ten miles from here," said Shaw. " We climbed the highest butte we could find, and could not see a buffalo or an Indian ; nothing but prairie for twenty miles around us." Henry's horse was disabled by clam- bering up and down the sides of ravines, and Shaw's was greatly fatigued. After supper that evening, as we sat around the fire, 1 proposed to Shaw to wait one day longer, in hopes of Bisonette's arrival, and if he should not come, to send Deslauriers with the cart and baggage back to Fort Lara- mie, while we ourselves followed The Whirlwind's village, and attempted to overtake it as it passed the mountains. Shaw, not having the same motive for hunting Lidians THE OREGON TRAIL. that I had, was averse to the plan ; I therefore resolved to go alone. This design I adopted very unwillingly, for I knew that in the present state of my health the attempt would be painful and hazardous. I hoped that Bisonette would appear in the course of the following day, and bring us some information by which to direct our course, thus enabling me to accomplish my purpose by means less objectionable. The rifle of Henry Chatillon was necessary for the sub sistence of the party in my absence : so I called Raymond, and ordered him to prepare to set out with me. Ray- mond rolled his eyes vacantly about, but at length, having succeeded in grappling with the idea, he withdrew to his bed under the cart. He was a heavy-moulded fellow, with a broad face, expressing impenetrable stupidity and entire self-confidence. As for his good qualities, he had a sort of stubborn fidelity, an insensibility to danger, and a kind of instinct or sagacity, which sometimes led him right, where better heads than his were at a loss. Be- sides this, he knew very well how to handle a rifle and picket a horse. Through the following day the sun glared down upon us with a pitiless, penetrating heat. The distant blue prairie seemed quivering under it. The lodge of our Indian associates parched in the burning rays, and our rifles, as they leaned against the tree, were too hot for the touch. There was a dead silence through our camp, broken only by the hum of gnats and mosquitoes. The men, resting their foreheads on their arms, were sleeping under the cart. The Indians kept close within their lodge, except the newly-married pair, who were seated together under an awning of butfalo-robes, and the old conjurer, who, with his hard, emaciated face and gaunt ribs, was perched aloft like a turkey-buzzard, among the HUNTING INDIANS. 167 dead branches of an old tree, constantly on the lookout for enemies. We dined, and then Shaw saddled his horse. " I will ride back," said he, " to Horseshoe Creek, and see if Bisonette is there." "I would go with you," I answered, "but I must reserve all the strength I have." The afternoon dragged away at last. I occupied myself in cleaning my rifle and pistols, and making other preparations for the journey. It was late before 1 wrapped myself in my blanket, and lay down for the night, with my head on my saddle. Shaw had not returned, but this gave us no uneasiness, for we supposed that he had fallen in with Bisonette, and was spending the night with him. For a day or two past I had gained in strength and health, but about midnight an attack of pain awoke me, and for some hours I could not sleep, Tlie moon was quivering on the broad breast of the Platte ; nothing could be heard except those low inex- plicable sounds, like whisperings and footsteps, which no one who has spent the night alone amid deserts and forests will be at a loss to understand. As I was falling asleep, a familiar voice, shouting from the distance, awoke me again. A rapid step approached the camp, and Shaw on foot, with his gun in his hand, hastily entered. " "Where's your horse ? " said I, raising myself on my elbow. " Lost ! " said Shaw. " Where's Deslauriers ? " " There," I replied, pointing to a confused mass of blankets and buffalo-robes. Shaw touched them with the butt of his gun, and up sprang our faithful Canadian. •• Come, Deslauriers ; stir up tlie fire, and get me something to eat." 168 THE OREGON TRAIL. " Where's Bisonette ? " asked I. " The Lord knows ; there's nobody at Horseshoe Creek." Shaw had gone back to the spot where we had encamped two days before, and finding nothing there but the ashes of our fires, he had tied his horse to the tree while he bathed hi the stream. Something startled his horse, which broke loose, and for two hours Shaw tried in vain to catch him. Sunset approached, and it was twelve miles to camp. So he abandoned the attempt, and set out on foot to join us. The greater part of his perilous and solitary walk was in darkness. His moccasins were worn to tatters and his feet severely lacerated. He sat down to eat, however, the usual equanimity of his tem- per not at all disturbed by his misfortune, and my last recollection before falling asleep was of Shaw, seated cross-legged before the fire, smoking his pipe. When I awoke again there was a fresh damp smell in the air, a gray twilight involved the prairie, and above its eastern verge was a streak of cold red sky. I called to the men, and in a moment a fire was blazing brightly in the dim morning light, and breakfast was getting ready. We sat down together on the grass, to the last civilized meal which Raymond and I were destined to enjoy for some time. " Now bring in the horses." My little mare Pauline was soon standing by the fire She was a fleet, hardy, and gentle animal, christened after Paul Dorion, from whom I had procured her in exchange for Pontiac. She did not look as if equipped for a morning pleasure-ride. In front of the black, high-bowed mountain-saddle were fastened holsters, with heavy pistols. A pair of saddle-bags, a blanket tightly rolled, a small parcel of Indian presents tied up in a HDNTING INDIANS. 169 buffalo skin, a leather bag of flour, and a smaller one of tea, were all secured behind, and a long trail-rope was wound round her neck. Raymond had a strong black mule, equipped in a similar manner. We crammed our powder-horns to the throat, and mounted. " I will meet you at Fort Laramie on the first of August," said I to Shaw. " That is," he replied, "if we don't meet before that. I think I shall follow after you in a day or two." This in fact he attempted, and would have succeeded if he had not encountered obstacles against which his reso- lute spirit was of no avail. Two days after I left him he sent Deslauriers to the fort with the cart and baggage, and set out for the mountains with Henry Chatillon ; but a tremendous thunder-storm had deluged the prairie, and nearly obliterated not only our trail but that of the In- dians themselves. They encamped at the base of the mountains, at a loss in what direction to go. In the morning Shaw found himself poisoned by the plant known as " poison ivy," in such a manner that it was impossible for him to travel. So they turned back reluctantly toward Fort Laramie, Shaw lay seriously ill for a week, and re- mained at the fort till I rejoined him some time after. To return to my own story. Raymond and I shook hands with our friends, rode out upon the prau-ie, and, clambering the sandy hollows channelled in the sides of tlie hills, gained the high plains above. If a curse had been pronounced upon the land, it could not have worn an asf»ect more forlorn. There were abrupt broken hills, deep hollows, and wide plains ; but all alike glared with an insupportable whiteness under the burning sun. The country, as if parched by the heat, was cracked into innu- merable fissures and ravines, that not a little impeded our progress. Their steep sides were white and raw, and 170 THE OREGON TRAIL. along the bottom we several times discovered the broad tracks of the grizzly bear, nowhere more abundant than in this region. The ridges of the hills were hard as rock, and strewn with pebbles of flint and coarse red jasper ; looking from them, there was nothing to relieve the desert uniformity, save here and there a pine-tree clinging at the edge of a ravine, and stretching its rough, shaggy arms into the scorching air. Its resinous odors recalled the pine-clad mountains of New England, and, goaded as I was with a morbid thirst, I thought with a longing desire on the crystal treasure poured in such wasteful profusion from our thousand hills. I heard, in fancy, the plunging and gurgling of waters among the shaded rocks, and saw them gleaming dark and still far down amid the crevices, the cold drops trickling from the long green mosses. When noon came we found a little stream, with a few trees and bushes ; and here we rested for an hour. Then we travelled on, guided by the sun, until, just before sunset, we reached another stream, called Bitter Cotton- wood Creek. A thick growth of bushes and old storm- beaten trees grew at intervals along its bank. Near the foot of one of the trees we flung down our saddles, and hobbling our horses, turned them loose to feed. The little stream was clear and swift, and ran musically over its white sands. Small water-birds were splashing in the shallows, and filling the air with cries and flutter- ings. The sun was just sinking among gold and crimson clouds behind Mount Laramie. I lay upon a log by the margin of the water, and watched the restless motions of the little fish in a deep still nook below. Strange to say, I seemed to have gained strength since the morning, and almost felt a sense of returning health. We built our fire. Night came, and the wolves began 1o howl. One deep voice began, answered in awful re HUNTING INDIANS. 171 spouses from hills, plains, and woods. Such sounds do not disturb one's sleep upon the prairie. We picketed the mare and the mule, and did not awake until daylight. Then we turned them loose, still hobbled, to feed for an hour before starting. We were getting ready our break fast when Raymond saw an antelope half a mile distant and said he would go and shoot it. " Your business," said I, " is to look after the animals. I am too weak to do much, if any thing happens to them, and you must keep within sight of the camp." Raymond promised, and set out with his rifle in his hand. The mare and the mule had crossed the stream, and were feeding among the long grass on the other side, much tormented by the attacks of large green-headed flies. As I watched them, I saw them go down into a hollow, and as several minutes elapsed without their reappearing, I waded through the stream to look after them. To my vexation and alarm I discovered them at a great distance, galloping away at full speed, Pauline in advance, with her hobbles broken, and the mule, still fettered, following with awkward leaps. I fired my rifle and shouted to re- call Raymond. In a moment he came running through the stream, with a red handkerchief bound round his head. I pointed to the fugitives, and ordered him to pursue them. Muttering a " Sacr^," between his teeth, he set out at full speed, still swinging his rifle in his hand. I walked up to the top of a hill, and, looking away over the prairie, could distinguish the runaways, still at full gallop. Re- turning to the fire, I sat down at the foot of a tree. Weaiily and anxiously hour after hour passed away. The loose bark dangling from the trunk behind me flapped to and fro in the wind, and the mosquitoes kept up their drowsy hum ; but other than this there was no sight nor sound of life throughout the burning landscape. The sun 172 THE OREGON TRAIL. rose higher and higher, until I knew that it must be noon. It seemed scarcely possible that the animals could be re- covered. Tf they were not, my situation was one of serious difficulty. Shaw, when I left him, had decided to move that mornmg, but whither he had not determined. To look for him would be a vain attempt. Fort Laramie was forty miles distant, and I could not walk a mile without great effort. Not then having learned the philosophy of yielding to disproportionate obstacles, I resolved, come what would, to continue the pursuit of the Indians. Only one plan occurred to me ; this was, to send Raymond to the fort with an order for more horses, while I remained on the spot, awaiting his return, which might take place within three days. But to remain stationary and alone for three days, in a country full of dangerous Indians, was not the most flattering of prospects ; and, protracted as my Indian hunt must be by such delay, it was not easy to foretell its result. Revolving these matters, I grew hungry ; and as our stock of provisions, except four or five pounds of flour, was by this time exhausted, I left the camp to see what game I could find. Nothing could be seen except four or five large curlews wheeling over my head, and now and then alighting upon the prairie. I shot two of them, and was about returning, when a start- ling sight caught my eye. A small, dark object, like a human head, suddenly appeared, and vanished among the thick bushes along the stream below. In that country every stranger is a suspected enemy ; and I threw forward the muzzle of my rifle. In a moment the bushes were vio lontly shaken, two heads, but not human heads, protruded, and to my great joy I recognized the downcast, disconso- late countenance of the black mule and the yellow visage of Fauline. Raymond came upon the mule, pale and haggard, complaining of a fiery pain in his chest. I took HUNTING INDIANS. 173 charge of the animals while he kneeled down by the side of the stream to drink. He had kept the runaways in sight as far as the Side Fork of Laramie Creek, a dis- tance of more than ten miles ; and here with great diffi- culty he had succeeded in catching them. I saw that he was unarmed, and asked him what he had done with his rifle. It had encumbered him in his pursuit, and he had dropped it on the prairi^, thinking that he could find it on his return ; but in this he had failed. The loss might prove a very serious one. I was too much rejoiced, how- ever, at the recovery of the animals, and at the fidelity of Raymond, who might easily have deserted with them, to think much about it ; and having made some tea for him in a tin vessel which we had brought with us, I told him that I would give liim two hours for resting before we set out again. He had eaten nothing that day ; but having no appetite, he lay down immediately to sleep. 1 picketed the animals among the best grass that I could find, and made fires of green wood to protect them from the flies ; then sitting down again by the tree, I watched the slow movements of the sun, grudging every moment that passed. The time I had mentioned expired, and I awoke Ray- mond. We saddled and set out again, but first we went in search of the lost rifle, and in the course of an hour were fortunate enough to find it. Then we turned west- ward, and moved over the hills and hollows at a slow pace towards the Black Hills. The heat no longer tormented us, for a cloud was before the sun. Tlie air grew fresh and cool, the distant mountains frowned more gloomily, there was a low muttering of thunder, and dense black masses of cloud rose heavily behind the broken peaks. At first they were fringed with silver by the afternoon sun ; but soon thick blackness overspread the sky, and the desert 174 THE OREGON TRAIL. around us was wrapped in gloom. There was an awful sublimity in the hoarse murmuring of the thunder, and the sombre shadows that involved the mountains and the plain. The storm broke with a zigzag blinding flash, a terrific crash of thunder, and a hurricane that howled over the prairie, dashing floods of water against us. Raymond looked about him and cursed the merciless ele- ments. There seemed no shelter near, but we discerned at length a deep ravine gashed in the level prairie, and saw half-way down its side an old pine-tree, whose rough hori- zontal boughs formed a sort of pent-house against the tempest. We found a practicable passage, led our ani- mals down, and fastened them to large loose stones at the bottom ; then climbing up, we drew our blankets over our heads, and crouched close beneath the old tree. Perhaps I was no competent judge of time, but it seemed to me that we were sitting there a full hour, while around us poured a deluge of rain, through which the rocks on the opposite side of the gulf were barely visible. The first burst of the tempest soon subsided, but the rain poured in steady torrents. At length Raymond grew im- patient, and scrambling out of the ravine, gained the level prairie above. " What does the weather look like ? " asked I, from my seat under the tree. " It looks bad," he answered : " dark all round ; " and again he descended and sat down by my side. Some ten minutes elapsed. " Go up again," said I, " and take another look ; " and he clambered up the precipice. " Well, how is it ? " " Just the same, only I see one little bright spot over the top of the mountain." The rain by this time had begun to abate ; and going down to the bottom of the "avine, we loosened the ani- HUNTING INDIANS. 175 ma Is, who were standing up to their knees in water. Leading them up the rocky throat of the ravine, we reached the plain above. All around us was obscurity ; but the bright spot above the mountains grew wider and ruddier, until at length the clouds drew apart, and a flood of sunbeams poured down, streaming along the precipices, andinvolving them in a thin blue haze, as soft as that which wraps the Apennines on an evening in spring. Rapidly the clouds were broken and scattered, like routed legions of evil spirits. The plain lay basking in sun- beams around us ; a rainbow arched the desert from north to south, and far in front a line of woods seemed inviting us to refreshment and repose. When we reached them, they were glistening with prismatic dew-drops, and enlivened by the songs and flutterings of birds. Strange winged insects, benumbed by the rain, were clinging to the leaves and the bark of the trees. Raymond kindled a fire with great difficulty. The animals turned eagerly to feed on the soft rich grass, while I, wrapping myself in my blanket, lay down and gazed on the evening landscape. The mountains, whose stern features had frowned upon us so gloomily, seemed lighted up with a benignant smile, and the green waving undulations of the plain were gladdened with warm sunshine. Wet, ill, and wearied as I was, my heart grew lighter at the view, and I drew from it an augury of good. When morning came, Raymond awoke, coughing vio- lently, though I had apparently received no injury. We mounted, crossed the little stream, pushed through the trees, and began our journey over the plain beyond. And now, as we rode slowly along, we looked anxiously on every hand for traces of the Indians, not doubting that the village had passed somewhere in that vicinity; but 176 THE OREGON TRAIL. the scanty shrivelled grass was not more than three or four inches high, and the ground was so hard that a host might have marched over it and left scarcely a trace of its passage. Up hill and down hill, and clam- bering through ravines, we continued our journey. As we were passing the foot of a hill, I saw Raymond, who was some rods in advance, suddenly jerk the reins of his mule, slide from his seat, and run in a crouch ing posture up a hollow ; then in an instant I heard the sharp crack of his rifle. A wounded antelope came running on three legs over the hill. I lashed Pauline and made after him. My fleet little mare soon brought me by his side, and, after leaping and bounding for a few moments in vain, he stood still, as if despairing of escape. His glistening eyes turned up towards my face with so piteous a look, that it was with feelings of infinite compunction that I shot him through the head with a pistol. Raymond skinned and cut him up, and we hung the fore-quarters to our saddles, much re- joiced that our exhausted stock of provisions was re- newed in such good time. Gaining the top of a hill, we could see along the cloudy verge of the prairie before us the lines of trees and shadowy groves, that marked the course of Laramie Creek. Before noon we reached its banks, and began anxiously to search them for footprints of the Indians. We followed the stream for several miles, now on the shore and now wading in the water, scrutinizing every sand-bar and every muddy bank. So long was the search, that we began to fear that we had left the trail undiscovered behind us. At length I heard Raymond shouting, and saw him jump from his mule to examine some object under the shelving bank. I rode up to his side. It was the impression of an Indian moccasin. HUNTING INDIANS. 177 Encouraged by this, we continued our search till at last some appearances on a soft surface of earth not far from the shore attracted my eye ; and going to examine them I found half a dozen tracks, some made by men and some by children. Just then Raymond observed across the stream the mouth of a brook, entering it from the south. He forded the water, rode in at the opening, and in a moment I heard him shouting again ; so I passed over and joined him. The brook had a broad sandy bed, along which the water trickled in a scanty stream ; and on either bank the bushes were so close that the view was completely intercepted. I found Raymond stooping over the footprints of three or four horses. Proceeding, we found those of a man, then those of a child, then those of more horses ; till at last the bushes on each bank were beaten down and broken, and the sand ploughed up with a multitude of footsteps, and scored across with the furrows made by the lodge-poles that had been dragged through. It was now certain that we had found the trail. I pushed through the bushes, and at a little distance on the prairie beyond found the ashes of a hundred and fifty lodge-fires, with bones and pieces of buffalo-robes scattered about, and the pickets to which horses had been tied, still standing in the ground. Elated by our success, we se- lected a convenient tree, and, turning the animals loose, prepared to make a meal from the haunch of the antelope. Hardship and exposure had thriven with me wonder- fully. I had gained both health and strength since leaving La Bont^'s camp. Raymond and I dined to- gether, in high spirits ; for we rashly presumed that having found one end of the trail we should have little difficulty in reaching the other. But when the animals were led in, we found that our ill-luck had not ceased to follow us. As I was saddling Pauline, I saw that her eye 12 178 THE OREGON TRAIL. was dull as lead, and the hue of her yellow coat visibly darkened. I placed nay foot in the stirrup to mount, when she staggered and fell flat on her side. Gaining her feet with an effort, she stood by the fire with a droop- ing head. Whether she had been bitten by a snake, or poisoned by some noxious plant, or attacked by a sudden disorder, it was hard to say ; but at all events, her sick- ness was sufficiently ill-timed and unfortunate. I suc- ceeded in a second attempt to mount her, and with a slow pace we moved forward on the trail of the Indians. It led us up a hill and over a dreary plain ; and here, to our great mortification, the traces almost disappeared, for the ground was hard as adamant ; and if its flinty surface had ever retained the dint of a hoof, the marks had been washed away by the deluge of yesterday. An Indian village, in its disorderly march, is scattered over the prairie often to the width of half a mile ; so that its trail is nowhere clearly marked, and the task of follow ing it is made doubly wearisome and difficult. By good fortune, many large ant-hills, a yard or more in diameter, were scattered over the plain, and these were frequently broken by the footprints of men and horses, and marked by traces of the lodge-poles. The succulent leaves of the prickly-pear, bruised from the same causes, also helped to guide us ; so, inch by inch, we moved along. Often we lost the trail altogether, and then found it again ; but late in the afternoon we were totally at fault. We stood alone, without a clew to guide us. The broken plain ex- panded for league after league around us, and in front the long dark ridge of mountains stretched from north to south. Mount Laramie, a little on our right, towered high above the rest, and from a dark valley just beyond one of its lower declivities, we discerned volumes of white Bmoko rising slowly. HUNTING INDIANS. 179 " I think," said Raymond, " some Indians must be there. Perhaps we had better go." But this plan was not lightly to be adopted, and we determined still to con- tinue our search after the lost trail. Our good stars prompted us to this decision, for we afterward had reason to believe, from information given us by the Indians, that the smoke was raised as a decoy by a Crow war party. Evening was coming on, and there was no wood or water nearer than the foot of the mountains. So thither we turned, directing our course towards the point where Laramie Creek issues upon the prairie. When we reached it, the bare tops of the mountains were still bright with sunshine. The little river was breaking, with an angry current, from its dark prison. There was something in the close vicinity of the mountains and the loud surging of the rapids, wonderfully cheering and exhilarating. There was a grass-plot by the river bank, surrounded by low ridges, which would effectually screen us and our fire from the sight of wandering Indians. Here, among the grass, I observed numerous circles of large stones, traces of a Dahcotah winter encampment. We lay down, and did not awake till the sun was up. A large rock projected from the shore, and behind it the deep water was slowly eddying round and round. The temptation was irresistible. I threw off my clothes, leaped in, suf- fered myself to be borne once round with the current, and then, seizing the strong root of a water-plant, drew myself to the shore. The effect was so refreshing, that I mistook it for returning health. But scarcely were we moui^ted and on our way, before the momentary glow passod. Again I hung as usual in my seat, scarcely able to Iiold myself erect. '* Look yonder," said Raymond ; " yon see thafc big I HO THE OREGON TRAIL. hollow there ; the Indians must have gone that way, if they went anywhere about here." We reached the gap, which was like a deep notch cut into the mountain-ridge, and here we soon found an ant- hill furrowed with the mark of a lodge-pole. This was quite enough ; there could be no doubt now. As we rode on, the opening growing narrower, the Indians had been compelled to march in closer order, and the traces be- came numerous and distinct. The gap terminated in a rocky gateway, leading into a rough and steep defile, between two precipitous mountains. Here grass and weeds were bruised to fragments by the throng that had passed through. We moved slowly over the rocks, up the passage ; and in this toilsome manner advanced for an hour or two, bare precipices, hundreds of feet high, shooting up on either hand. Raymond, with his hardy mule, was a few rods before me, when we came to the foot of an ascent steeper than the rest, and which I trusted might prove the highest point of the defile. Pau- line strained upward for a few yards, moaning and stum bling, and then came to a dead stop, unable to proceed further. I dismounted, and attempted to lead her ; but my own exliausted strength soon gave out ; so I loosened the trail-rope from her neck, and tying it round my arm, crawled up on my hands and knees. I gained the top, totally spent, the sweat-drops trickling from my forehead. Pauline stood like a statue by my side, her shadow falling upon tlie scorching rock ; and in this shade, for there was no other, I lay for some time, scarcely able to move a limb. All around, the black crags, sharp as needles at the top, stood baking in the sun, without tree or bush or blade of grass to cover their nakedness. The whole scene seemed parched with a pitiless, insufferable heat. After a while I could mount again, and we moved on. HUNTING INDIANS. lil^l descending the defile on its western side. There was something ridiculous in tlie situation. Man and horse were helpless alike. Pauline and I could neither fight nor run. Raymond's saddle-girth slipped ; and while I proceeded he stopped to repair the mischief. I came to the top of a little declivity, where a welcome sight greeted my eye ; a nook of fresh green grass nestled among the cliffs, sininy clumps of bushes on one side, and shaggy old pine-trees leaning from the rocks on the other. A shriD, familiar voice saluted me, and recalled me to days of boyhood ; that of the insect called the " locust " by New England schoolboys, which was clinging among the heated boughs of the old pine-trees. Then, too, as I passed the bushes, the low sound of falling water reached my ear. Pauline turned of her own accord, and pushing through the boughs, we found a black rock, overarched by the cool green canopy. An icy stream was pouring from its side into a wide basin of white sand, whence it had no visible outlet, but filtered through into the soil below. While I filled a tin cup at the spring, Pauline was eagerly plung ing her head deep in the pool. Other visitors had been there before us. All around in the soft soil were the footprints of elk, deer, and the Rocky Mountain sheep ; and the grizzly bear too had left the recent prints of his broad foot, with its frightful array of claws. Among these mountains was his home. Soon after leaving the spring we found a little grassy plain, encircled by the mountains, and marked, to our great joy, with all the traces of an Indian camp. Ray- mond's practised eye detected certain signs, by which he recognized the spot where Reynal's lodge had been pitched and his horses picketed. I approached, and stood look- ing at the place. Reynal and I had, I believe, hardly a 182 THE OREGON TRAIL. feeling in common, and it perplexed me a good deal to understand why I should look with so much interest on the ashes of his fire, when between him and me there was no other bond of sympathy than the slender and pre- carious one of a kindred race. In half an hour from this we were free of the moun- tains. There was a plain before us, totally barren and thickly peopled in many parts with prairie-dogs, who sat at the mouths of their burrows and yelped at us as we passed. The plain, as we thought, was about six miles wide ; but it cost us two hours to cross it. Then another mountain-range rose before us. From the dense bushes tfiat clothed the steeps for a thousand feet shot up black crags, all leaning one way, and shattered by storms and thunder into grim and threatening shapes. As we entered a nar- row passage on the trail of the Indians, they impended frightfully above our heads. Our course was through thick woods, in the shade and sunlight of overhanging boughs. As we wound from side to side of the passage, to avoid its obstructions, we could see at intervals, through the foliage, the awful forms of the gigantic cliffs, that seemed to hem us in on the right and on the left, before and behind. In an open space, fenced in by high rocks, stood two Indian forts, of a square form, rudely built of sticks and logs. They were somewhat ruinous, having probably been constructed the year before. Each might have contained about twenty men. Perhaps in this gloomy spot some party had been beset by enemies, and those scowling rocks and blasted trees might not long since have looked down on a conflict, unchronicled and unknown. Yet if any traces of bloodshed remained they were hidden by the bushes and tall rank weeds. Gradually the mountains drew apart, and the passage HUKTING INDIANS. \K^ expanded into a plain, where again we found traces of au Indian encampment. There were trees and bushes just before us, and we stopped here for an hour's rest and re- freshment. When we had finished our meal, Raymond struck fire, and, lighting his pipe, sat down at the foot of a tree to smoke. For some time I observed him puffing away with a face of unusual solemnity. Then slowly taking the pipe from his lips, he looked up and i-emarked that we had better not go any farther. " Why not ? " asked I. He said that the country was become very dangerous, that we were entering the range of the Snakes, Arapahoes, and Gros-ventre Blackfeet, and that if any of their wan- dering parties should meet us, it would cost us our lives ; but he added with blunt fidelity, that he would go anywhere I wished. I told him to bring up the animals, and mount- ing them we proceeded again. I confess that, as we moved forward, the prospect seemed but a doubtful one. I would have given the world for my ordinary elasticity of body and mind, and for a horse of such strength and spirit as the journey required. Closer and closer the rocks gathered round us, growing taller and steeper, and pressing more and more upon our path. We entered at length a defile which, in its way, I never have seen rivalled. The mountain was cracked from top to bottom, and we were creeping along the bot- tom of the fissure, in dampness and gloom, with the clink of hoofs on the loose shingly rocks, and the hoarse mur- muring of a petulant brook which kept us company. Sometimes the water, foaming among the stones, over- spread the whole narrow passage ; sometimes, withdraw- ing to one side, it gave us room to pass dry-shod. Looking up, we could see a narrow ribbon of bright blue sky be- tween tlie dark edges of the opposing cliffs, This did 184 THE OREGON TRAIL. not last long. The passage soon widened, and sunbeams found their way down, flashing upon the black waters. The defile would spread to many rods in width ; bushes, trees, and flowers would spring by the side of the brook ; the clitfs would be feathered with shrubbery, that clung in every crevice, and fringed with trees, that grew along their sunny edges. Tlien we would be moving again in darkness. The passage seemed about four miles long, and before we reached the end of it, the unshod hoofs of our animals were broken, and their legs cut by the sharp stones. Issuing from the mountain we found another plain. All around it stood a circle of precipices, that seemed the impersonation of Silence and Solitude. Here again the Indians had encamped, as well they might, after passing with their women, children, and horses, through the gulf behind us. In one day we had made a journey which it had cost them three to accomplish. The only outlet to this amphitheatre lay over a hill some two hundred feet high, up which we moved with difficulty. Looking from the top, we saw that at last we were free of the mountains. The prairie spread before us, but so wild and broken that the view was everywhere obstructed. Far on our left one tall hill swelled up against the sky, on the smooth, pale-green surface of which four slowly moving black specks were discernible. They were evidently buffalo, and we hailed the sight as a good augury ; for where the buffalo were, there the In- dians would probably be found. We hoped on that very night to reach the village. We were anxious to do so for a double reason, wishing to bring our journey to an end, and knowing moreover that though to enter the village in broad daylight would be perfectly safe, yet to encamp in its vicinity would be dangerous. But as we rode on, the Bun was sinking, and soon was within half an houi of HUNTING INDIANS. 185 the horizon. We ascended a hill and looked about lis for a spot for our encampment. The prairie was like a tur- bulent ocean, suddenly congealed when its waves were at the highest, and it lay half in light and half in shadow, as the rich sunshine, yellow as gold, was pouring over it. The rough bushes of the wild sage were growing every- where, its dull pale-green overspreading hill and hollow. Yet a little way before us, a bright verdant line of grass was winding along the plain, and here and there through- out its course glistened pools of water. We went down to it, kindled a fire, and turned our horses loose to feed. It was a little trickling brook, that for some yards oii either side turned the barren prairie into fertility, and here and there it spread into deep pools, where the beav- ers had dammed it up. We placed our last remaining piece of antelope before a scanty fire, mournfully reflecting on our exhausted stock of provisions. Just then a large gray hare, peculiar to these prairies, came jumping along, and seated himself within fifty yards to look at us. I thoughtlessly raised my rifle to shoot him, but Raymond called out to me not to fire for fear the report should reach the ears of the Indians. That night for the first time we considered that the danger to which we were exposed was of a somewhat serious character ; and to those who are unacquainted with Indians, it may seem strange that our chief appre- hensions arose from the supposed proximity of the people whom we intended to visit. Had any straggling party of these faithful friends caught sight of us from the hill-top, they would probably have returned in the night to plun- der us of our horses, and perhaps of our scalps. But the prairie is unfavorable to nervousness ; and I presume that neither Raymond nor I thought twice of the matter that evening. 186 THE OREGON TRAIL. For eight hours pillowed on our saddles, we lay in- sensible as logs. Pauline's yellow head was stretched over me when I awoke. I rose and examined her. Her feet were bruised and swollen by the accidents of yester- day, but her eye was brighter, her motions livelier, and her mysterious malady had visibly abated. We moved on, hoping within an hour to come in sight of the Indian village ; but again disappointment awaited us. The trail disappeared upon a hard and stony plain. Raymond and I rode from side to side, scrutinizing every yard of ground, until at length I found traces of the lodge-poles, by the side of a ridge of rocks. We began again to follow them. " What is that black spot out there on the prairie ? " " It looks like a dead buffalo," answered Raymond. We rode to it, and found it to be the huge carcass of a bull killed by the hunters as they had passed. Tangled hair and scraps of hide were scattered on all sides, for the wolves had made merry over it, and hollowed out the entire carcass. It was covered with myriads of large black crickets, and from its appearance must have lain there four or five days. The sight was a disheartening one, and I observed to Raymond that the Indians might still be fifty or sixty miles off. But he shook his head, and replied that they dared not go so far for fear of their enemies, the Snakes. Soon after this we lost the trail again, and ascended a neighboring ridge, totally at a loss. Before us lay a plain perfectly flat, spreading on the right and left, without apparent limit, and bounded in front by a long broken line of hills, ten or twelve miles distant. All was open and ex- posed to view, yet not a buffalo nor an Indian was visible. " Do you see that ? " said Raymond : " now we had better turn round." HUNTING INDIANS. 187 But as Raymond's bourgeois thought otherwise, we de- scended the hill and began to cross the plain. We had come so far that neither Pauline's limbs nor my own could carry me back to Fort Laramie. I considered that the lines of expediency and inclination tallied exactly, and that the most prudent course was to keep forward. The ground immediately around us was thickly strewn with the skulls and bones of buffalo, for here a year or two before the Indians had made a " surround ; " yet no living game was in sight. At length an antelope sprang up and gazed at us. We fired together, and both missed, although the animal stood, a fair mark, within eighty yards. This ill-success might perhaps be charged to our own eagerness, for by this time we had no provisions left except a little flour. We could see several pools of water, glistening in the distance. As we approached, wolves and antelopes bounded away through the tall grass around them, and flocks of large white plover flew screaming over their surface. Having failed of the ante- lope, Raymond tried his hand at the birds, with the same ill-success. The water also disappointed us. Its margin was so mired by the crowd of buffalo that our timorous animals were afraid to approach. So we turned away and moved towards the hills. The rank grass, where it was not trampled down by the buffalo, fairly swept our horses' necks. Again we found the same execrable barren prairie offering no clew by which to guide our way. As we drew near the hills, an opening appeared, through which the Indians must have gone if they had passed that way at all. Slowly we began to ascend it. I felt the most dreary forebodings of ill-success, when on looking round I could discover neither dent of hoof, nor footprint, nor trace of lodge-pole, though the passage was encumbered 188 THE OREGON TRAIL. by the skulls of buffalo. "We heard thunder muttering ; another storm was coming on. As we gained the top of the gap, the prospect beyond began to disclose itself. First, we saw a long dark line of ragged clouds upon the horizon, while above them rose the peaks of the Medicine-Bow range, the vanguard of the Rocky Mountains ; then little by little the plain came into view, a vast green uniformity, forlorn and tenantless, though Laramie Creek glistened in a waving line over its surface, without a bush or a tree upon its banks. As yet, the round projecting shoulder of a hill intercepted a part of the view. I rode in advance, when suddenly I could distinguish a few dark spots on the prairie, along the bank of the stream. " Buffalo ! " said I. " Horses, by God ! " exclaimed Raymond, lashing his mule foiwardas he spoke. More and more of the plain disclosed itself, and more and more horses appeared, scattered along the river bank, or feeding in bands over the prairie. Then, standing in a circle by the stream, swarming with their savage inhabitants, we saw, a mile or more off, the tall lodges of the Ogillallah. Never did the heart of wanderer more gladden at the sight of home Oian did mine at the sight of that Indian camp. CHAPTER XIV. THE OGILLALLAH VILLAGE. 'T^HIS is hardly the place for portraying the mental -*- features of the Indians. The same picture, slightly changed in shade and coloring, would serve with very few exceptions for all the tribes north of the Mexican terri- tories. But with this similarity in their modes of thought, the tribes of the lake and ocean shores, of the forests and of the plains, differ greatly in their manner of life. Having been domesticated for several weeks among one of the wildest of the hordes that roam over the remote prairies, I had unusual opportunities of observing them, and flatter myself that a sketch of the scenes that passed daily before my eyes may not be devoid of interest. Tliey were thorough savages. Neither their manners nor their ideas were in the slightest degree modified by con- tact with civilization. They knew nothing of the power and real character of the white men, and their children would scream in terror when they saw me. Their relig- ion, superstitions, and prejudices were the same handed down to them from immemorial time. They fought with the weapons that their fathers fought with, and wore the same garments of skins. They were living representa- tives of the " stone age ; " for though their lances and arrows were tipped with iron procured from the traders, tlicy still used the rude stone mallet of the primeval world. 190 THE OREGON TRAIL. Great changes are at hand in that region. With the Btream of emigration to Oregon and California, the buffalo will dwindle away, and the large wandering communities who depend on them for support must be broken and scattered. The Indians will soon be abased by whiskey and overawed by military posts ; so that within a few years the traveller may pass in tolerable security through their country. Its danger and its charm will have disa]> peared together. As soon as Raymond and I discovered the village from the gap in the hills, we were seen in our turn ; keen eyes were constantly on the watch. As we rode down upoi the plain, the side of the village nearest us was darkened with a crowd of naked figures. Several men came for- ward to meet us. I could distinguish among them the green blanket of the Frenchman Reynal. Wlien we came up the ceremony of shaking hands had to be gone through in due form, and then all were eager to know what had become of the rest of my party, I satisfied them on this point, and we all moved together towards the village. " You've missed it," said Reynal ; " if you'd been here day before yesterday, you'd have found the whole prairie over yonder black with buffalo as far as you could see. There were no cows, though ; nothing but bulls. We made a ' surround ' every day till yesterday. See the village there ; don't that look like good living ? " In fact I could see, even at that distance, long cords stretched from lodge to lodge, over which the meat, cut by the squaws into thin sheets, was hanging to dry in the sun. I noticed too that the village was somewhat small- er than when I had last seen it, and I asked Reynal the cause. He said that old Le Borgne had felt too weak to pass over the mountains, and so had remained behind with all his relations, including Mahto-Tatonka and his THE OGILLALLAH VILLAGE. 191 brothers. The Whirlwind too had been unwilling to oome so far, because, as Reynal said, he was afraid. Only half a dozen lodges had adhered to him, the mail) body of the village setting their chief's authority a' nauglit, and taking the course most agreeable to thei. inclinations. " What chiefs are there in the village now?" asked I. " Well," said Reynal, '' there's old Red- Water, and the Eagle-Feather, and the Big Crow, and the Mad Wolf, and The Panther, and the White-Shield, and — what's hir name? — the half-breed Shienne." By this time we were close to the village, and I ob served that while the greater part of the lodges were very large and neat in their appearance, there was at one side a cluster of squalid, miserable huts. I looked toward." them, and made some remark about their wretched ap pearance. But I was touching upon delicate ground. " My squaw's relations live in those lodges," said Rey nal, very warmly ; " and there isn't a better set in th* whole village." " Are there any chiefs among them ? " " Chiefs ? " said Reynal ; " yes, plenty ! " " What are their names ? " *' Their names ? Why, there's the Arrow-Head. I^ he isn't a chief he ought to be one. And there's the Hail-Storm. He's nothing but a boy, to be sure ; but he's bound to be a chief one of these days." Just then we passed between two of the lodges, and entered the great area of the village. Superb, naked fig- ures stood silently gazing on us. " Where's the Bad Wound's lodge ? " said I to Reynal. " There you've missed it again ! The Bad Wound is away with The Whirlwind. If you could have found him here, and gone to live in his lodge, he would have treated 192 THE OREGON TRAIL. you better than any man in the village. But there's the Big Crow's lodge yonder, next to old Red-Water's. He's a good Indian for the whites, and I advise you to go and live with him." " Are there many squaws and children in his lodge ? " said I. " No ; only one squaw and two or three children. He keeps the rest in a separate lodge by themselves." So, still followed by a crowd of Indians, Raymond and I rode up to the entrance of the Big Crow's lodge. A squaw came out immediately and took our horses. I put aside the leather flap that covered the low opening, and stooping, entered the Big Crow's dwelling. There I could see the chief in the dim light, seated at one side, on a pile of buffalo-robes. He greeted me with a guttural " How, col^ ! " I requested Reynal to tell him that Raymond and J wore come to live with him. The Big Crow gave another low exclamation. The announcement may seem intrusive, but, in fact, every Indian in the village would have deemed himself honored that white men should give such preference to his hospitality. The squaw spread a buffalo-robe for us in the guest's place at the head of the lodge. Our saddles were brought in, and scarcely were we seated upon them before the place was througed with Indians, crowding in to see us. The Big Crow produced his pipe and filled it with the mixture of tobacco and shongsasha, or red willow bark. Round and round it passed, and a lively conversation went forward. Meanwhile a squaw placed before the two guests a wooden bowl of boiled buffalo-meat ; but unhappily this was not the only banquet destined to be inflicted on us. One after another, boys and young squaws thrust their heads in at the opening, to invite us to various feasts in different parts of the village. For half an hour or more THE OGILL ALLAH VILLAGE. 19? we were actively engaged in passing from lodge to lodge, tasting in each of the bowl of meat set before us, and inhaling a whiff or two from our entertainer's pipe. A thunder-storm that had been threatening for some time now began in good earnest. We crossed over to Key- nal's lodge, though it hardly deserved the name, for it consisted only of a few old buffalo-robes, supported on poles, and was quite open on one side. Here we sat down, and the Indians gathered round us. " What is it," said I, " that makes the thunder ?" " It's my belief," said Reynal, " that it's a big stone rolling over the sky." " Very likely," I replied ; " but I want to know what the Indians think about it." So he interpreted my question, which produced some debate. There was a difference of opinion. At last old Mene-Seela, or Red-Water, who sat by himself at one bide, looked up with his withered face, and said he had always known what the thunder was. It was a great Hack bird ; and once he had seen it, in a dream, swoop- ing down from the Black Hills, with its loud roaring wings ; and when it flapped them over a lake, they struck lightning from the water. " The thunder is bad," said another old man, who sat muffled in his buffalo-robe ; " he killed my brother last summer." Reynal, at my request, asked for an explanation ; but the old man remained doggedly silent, and would not look up. Some time after, I learned how the accident occurred. The man who was killed belonged to an asso- ciation which, among other mystic functions, claimed the exclusive power and privilege of figliting the tbunder. " Whenever a storm which they wished to avert was threat- ening, the thunder-fighters would take their bows and 13 194 THE OREGON TRAIL. arrows, tlieir guns, their magic drum, and a sort ol wnistle, made out of the wing-bone of the war-eagle, and, thus equipped, run out and fire at the rising cloud, whoop- ing, yelling, whistling, and beating their drum, to frighten it down again. One afternoon, a heavy black cloud was coming up, and they repaired to the top of a hill, where they brought all their magic artillery into play against it. But the undaunted thunder, refusing to be terrified, darted out a bright flash, which struck one of the party dead as he was in the very act of shaking his long iron- pointed lance against it. The rest scattered and ran yelling in an ecstasy of superstitious terror back to their lodges. The lodge of my host Kongra Tonga, or the Big Crow, presented a picturesque spectacle that evening. A score or more of Indians were seated around it in a circle, their dark naked forms just visible by the dull light of the smouldering fire in the middle. The pipe glowed brightly in the gloom as it passed from hand to hand. Then a squaw would drop a piece of buffalo-fat on the dull em- bers. Instantly a bright flame would leap up, darting its light to the very apex of the tall conical structure, where the tops of the slender poles that supported the covering of hide were gathered together. It gilded the features of the Indians, as with animated gestures they sat around it, telling their endless stories of war and hunting, and displayed rude garments of skins that hung around the lodge ; the bow, quiver, and lance, suspended over the resting-place of the chief, and the rifles and powder-horns of the two white guests. For a moment all would be bright as day ; then the flames would die out ; fitfiil flashes from the embers would illumine the lodge, and then leave it in darkness. Then the light would wholly fade, and the lodge and all within it be involved again in obscurity. THE OGILLALLAH VILLAGE. 195 As I left the lodge next morning, I was saluted by howling and yelping all around the village, and half its canine population rushed forth to the attack. Being as cowardly as they were clamorous, they kept jumping about me at the distance of a few yards, only one little cur, about ten inches long, having spirit enough to make a direct assault. He dashed valiantly at the leather tassel which in the Dahcotah fashion was trailing behind the heel of my moccasin, and kept his hold, growling and snarling all the while, though every step I made almost jerked him over on his back. As I knew that the eyes of the whole village were on the watch to see if I showed any sign of fear, I walked forward without looking to the right or left, surrounded wherever I went by this magic circle of dogs. When I came to Reynal's lodge I sat down by it, on which the dogs dispersed growling to their respective quarters. Only one large white one remained, running about before me and showing his teeth. I called him, but he only growled the more. I looked at him well. He was fat and sleek ; just such a dog as I wanted. " My friend," thought I, " you shall pay for this ! I will have you eaten this very morning! " I intended that day to give the Indians a feast, by way of conveying a favorable impression of my character and dignity ; and a white dog is the dish which the customs of the Dahcotah prescribe for all occasions of formality and importance. I consulted Reynal : he soon discovered that an old woman in the next lodge was owner of the white dog. I took a gaudy cotton liandkerchief, and, laying it on the ground, arranged some vermilion, beads, and other trinkets upon it. Then the old squaw was sum- moned. I pointed to the dog and to the handkerchief. She gave a scream of delight, snatched up the prize, and vanished with it into her lodge. For a few more trifles, 196 THE OREGON TRAIL. I engaged the services of two other squaws, each of whom took the white dog by one of his paws, and led him away behind the lodges. Having killed him they threw him into a fire to singe ; then chopped him up and put him into two large kettles to boil. Meanwhile I told Raymond to fry in buffalo fat what little flour we had left, and also to make a kettle of tea as an additional luxury. Tlie Big Crow's squaw was briskly at work sweeping out the lodge for the approaching festivity. I confided to my host himself the task of inviting the guests, think- ing that I might thereby shift from my own shoulders the odium of neglect and oversight. When feasting is in question, one hour of the day serves an Indian as well as another. My entertainment came off at about eleven o'clock. At that hour, Reynal and Ray- mond walked across the area of the village, to the admi- ration of the inhabitants, carrying the two kettles of dog meat slung on a pole between them. These they placed in the centre of the lodge, and then went back for the bread and the tea. Meanwhile I had put on a pair of brilliant moccasins, and substituted for my old buck-skin frock a coat which I had brought with me in view of such public occasions. I also made careful use of the razor, an operation which no man will neglect who desires to gain the good opinion of Indians. Thus attired, I seated myself between Reynal and Raymond at the head of the lodge. Only a few minutes elapsed before all the guests had come in and were seated on the ground, wedged to- gether in a close circle. Each brought with him a wooden bowl to hold his share of the repast. When all were assembled, two of the officials called, " soldiers" by the white men, came forward with ladles made of the horn of the Rocky Mountain sheep, and began to distribute the feast, assigning a double share to the old men and chiefs. THE OGILLALLAH TILLAGE. 197 The dog vanished with astonishing celerity, and each guest turned his dish bottom upward to show that all was gone. Then the bread was distributed in its turn, and finally the tea. As the " soldiers " poured it out into the same wooden bowls that had served for the substantial part of the meal, I thought it had a particularly curious and uninviting color. " Oh," said Reynal, " there was not tea enough, so I stirred some soot in the kettle, to make it look strong." Fortunately an Indian's palate is not very discriminat- ing. The tea was well sweetened, -and that was all they cared for. Now, the feast being over, the time for speech-making was come. The Big Crow produced a flat piece of wood on which he cut up tobacco and sJiongsasha, and mixed them in due proportions. The pipes were filled and passed from hand to hand around the company. Then I began my speech, each sentence being interpreted by Reynal as I went on, and echoed by the whole audience with the usual exclamations of assent and approval. As nearly as I can recollect, it was as follows : — "I had come," I told them, "from a country so far distant, that at the rate they travel, they could not reach it in a year." "How! how!" " There the Meneaska were more numerous than the blades of grass on the prairie. The squaws were far more beautiful than any they had ever seen, and all the men were brave warriors." "How! how! how!" I was assailed by twinges of conscience as I uttered these last words. But I recovered myself and began again. " While I was living in the Meneaska lodges, I had 198 THE OREGON TRAIL. heard of the Ogillallah, how great and brave a nation they were, how thej loved the whites, and how well they could hunt the buffalo and strike their enemies. I resolved to come and see if all that I heard was true." " How ! how ! how ! how ! " " As I had come on horseback through the mountains, I had been able to bring them only a very few presents." " How ! " " But I had enough tobacco to give them all a small piece. They might smoke it and see how much better it was than the tobacco which they got from the traders." " How ! how ! how ! " " I had plenty of powder, lead, knives, and tobacco at Fort Laramie. These I was anxious to give them, and if any of them should come to the fort before I went away, I would make them handsome presents." "How! how! how! how!" Raymond then cut up and distributed among them two or three pounds of tobacco, and old Mene-Seela began to make a reply. It was long, but the following was the pith of it. " He had always loved the whites. They were tho wisest people on earth. He believed they could do any thing, and he was always glad when any of them came to live in the Ogillallah lodges. It was true I had not made them many presents, but the reason of it was plain. It was clear that I liked them, or I never should have come so far to find their village." Several other speeches of similar import followed, and then this more serious matter being disposed of, there was an interval of smoking, laughing, and conversation. Old Mene-Seela suddenly interrupted it with a loud voice : — " Now is a good time," he said, " when all the old men and chiefs are here together, to decide what the neoole THE OGILLALLAH VILLAGE. 199 shall do. We came over the mountains to make our lodges for next year. Our old ones are good for nothing ; they are rotten and worn out. But we have been disap- pointed. We have killed buffalo-bulls enough, but we have found no herds of cows, and the skins of bulls are too thick and heavy for our squaws to make lodges of. There must be plenty of cows about the Medicine Bow Mountain. We ought to go there. To be sure it is far- ther westward than we have ever been before, and perhaps the Snakes will attack us, for those hunting-grounds belong to them. But we must^have new lodges at any rate ; our old ones will not serve for another year. We ought not to be afraid of the Snakes. Our warriors are brave, and they are all ready for war. Besides, we have three white men with their rifles to help us." This speech produced a good deal of debate. As Rcy- nal did not interpret what was said, I could only judge of the meaning by the features and gestures of the speakers. At the end of it however the greater number seemed to have fallen in with Mene-Seela's opinion. A short silence followed, and then the old man struck up a discordant chant, which I was told was a song of thanks for the entertainment I had given them. " Now," said he, " let us go and give the white men a chance to breathe." So the company all dispersed into the open air, and fot some time the old chief was walking round the village, singing his song in praise of the feast, after the custom of tlio nation. At last tlie day drew to a close, and as the sun went down tlic liorses came trooping from the surrounding plains to be picketed before the dwellings of their respec- tive masters. Soon within the great circle of lodges ap- peai'cd another concentric circle of restless horses ; and 200 THE OREGON TRAIL. here and there fires glowed and flickered amid the gloom, on the dusky figures around them. I went over and sat by the lodge of Reyual. The Eagle-Feather, who was a son of Mene-Seela, and brother of my host the Big Crow, was seated there already, and 1 asked him if the village would move in the morning. He shook his head, and said that nobody could tell, for since old Mahto-Tatonka had died, the people had been like children that did not know their own minds. They were no better than a body without a head. So I, as well as the Indians themselves, fell asleep that night without knowing whether we should set out in the morning towards the country of the Snakes. At daybreak however, as I was coming up from the river after my morning's ablutions, I saw that a move- ment was contemplated. Some of the lodges were re- duced to nothing but bare skeletons of poles ; the leather covering of others was flapping in the wind as the squaws pulled it off". One or two chiefs of note had resolved, it seemed, on moving ; and so having set their squaws at work, the example was followed by the rest of the village. One by one the lodges were sinking down in rapid succession, and where the great circle of the village had been only a few moments before, nothing now re- mained but a ring of horses and Indians, crowded in confusion together. The ruins of the lodges were spread over the ground, together with kettles, stone mallets, great ladles of horn, buffalo-robes, and cases of painted liide, filled with dried meat. Squaws bustled about in busy preparation, the old hags screaming to one another at the stretch of their leathern lungs. The shaggy horses were patiently standing while the lodge-poles were lashed to their sides, and the baggage piled upon their backs. The dogs, with tongues lolling out, lay lazily panting, and waiting for the time of departure. Each warrior sat on THE OGILLALLAH VILLAGE. 201 the ground by the decaying embers of his fire, unmoved amid the confusion, holding in his hand tlie long trail- rope of his horse. As their preparations were completed, each family moved off the ground. The crowd was rapidly melting away. L could see them crossing the river, and passing in quick succession along the profile of the hill on the farther side. When all were gone, I mounted and set out after them, followed by Raymond, and, as we gained the summit, the whole village came in view at once, strag- gling away for a mile or more over the barren plains before us. Everywhere glittered the iron points of lances. The sun never shone upon a more strange array. Here were the heavy-laden pack-horses, some wretched old woman leading them, and two or three children clinging to their backs. Here were mules or ponies covered from head to tail with gaudy trappings, and mounted by some gay young squaw, grinning bashfulness and pleasure as the Meneaska looked at her. Boys with miniature bows and arrows wandered over the plains, little naked children ran along on foot, and numberless dogs scampered among the feet of the horses. The young braves, gaudy with paint and feathers, rode in groups among the crowd, often gal- loping, two or three at once along the line, to try the speed of their horses. Here and there you might see a rank of sturdy pedestrians stalking along in their white buffalo-robes. These were the dignitaries of the village, the old men and warriors, to whose age and experience that wandering democracy yielded a silent deference. With the rough prairie and the broken hills for its back- ground, the restless scene was striking and picturesque beyond description. Days and weeks made me familiar with it, but never impaired its effect upon my fancy. As we moved on, the broken column grew yet more 202 THE OREGON TRAIL. Bcattered and disorderly, until, as we approached the foot of a hill, I saw the old men before mentioned seating themselves in a line upon the ground, in advance of the whole. They lighted a pipe and sat smoking, laughing, and telling stories, while the people, stopping as they successively came up, were soon gathered in a crowd behind them. Then the old men rose, drew their buffalo- robes over their shoulders, and strode on as before. Gaining the top of the hill, we found a steep declivity before us. There was not a minute's pause. The whole descended in a mass, amid dust and confusion. The horses braced their feet as they slid down, women and children screamed, dogs yelped as they were trodden upon, while stones and earth went rolling to the bottom. In a few moments I could see the village from the summit, spreading again far and wide over the plain below. At our encampment that afternoon I was attacked anew by my old disorder. In half an hour the strength that I had been gaining for a week past had vanished again, and I became like a man in a dream. But at sunset I lay down in the Big Crow's lodge and slept, totally unconscious till the morning. The first thing that awakened me was a hoarse Idapping over my head, and a sudden light that poured in upon me. The camp was breaking up, and the squaws were moving the cover- ing from the lodge. I arose and shook off my blanket with the feeling of perfect health ; but scarcely had I gained my feet when a sense of my lielpless condition was once more forced upon me, and I found myself scarcely able to stand. Raymond had brought up Paul- ine and the mule, and I stooped to raise my saddle from the ground. My strength was unequal to the task. " You must saddle her," said I to Raymond, as I sat down again on a pile of bufftilo-robes. He did so, and with THE OGILLALLAH VILLAGE. 203 a painful effort I mounted. As we were passing over a great plain, surrounded by long broken ridges, 1 rode slowly in advance of tlie Indians with thoughts that wandered far from the time and the place. Sud- denly the sky darkened, and thunder began to mutter. Clouds were rising over the hills, as dark as the first forebodings of an approaching calamity ; and in a mo- ment all around was wrapped in shadow. I looked behind. The Indians had stopped to prepare for the approaching storm, and the dense mass of savages stretched far to the right and left. Since the first at- tack of my disorder the effects of rain upon me had usually been injurious in the extreme. I had no strength to spare, having at that moment scarcely enough to keep my seat on horseback. Then, for the first time, it pressed upon me as a strong probability that I might never leave those deserts. " Well," thought I to myself, " the prairie makes quick and sharp work. Better to die here, in the saddle to the last, than to stifle in the hot air of a sick chamber ; and a thousand times better than to drag out life, as many have done, in the helpless inaction of linger- ing disease." So, drawing the buffalo-robe on which I sat, over my head, I waited till the storm should come. It broke at last with a sudden burst of fury, and passing away as rapidly as it came, left the sky clear again. My reflections served me no other purpose than to look back upon as a piece of curious experience ; for the rain did not produce the ill effects that I had expected. We en- eamj:)ed within an hour. Having no change of clothes, 1 contrived to borrow a curious kind of substitute from Reynal ; and this done, I went home, that is, to the Big Crow's lodge, to make the entire transfer that was neces- sary. Half a dozen squaws were in the lodge, and one of them taking my arm held it against her own, while a gen 204 THE OREGON TRAIL. cral laugh and scream o£ admiration was raised at the contrast in the color of the skin. Our encampment that afternoon was not far from a spur of the Black Hills, whose ridges, bristling with fir trees, rose from the plains a mile or two on our right. That they might move more rapidly towards their proposed hunting-grounds, the Indians determined to leave at this place their stock of dried meat and other superfluous articles. Some left even their lodges, and contented themselves with carrying a few hides to make a shelter from the sun and rain. Half the inhabitants set out in the afternoon, with loaded pack-horses, towards the mountains. Here they suspended the dried meat upon trees, where the wolves and grizzly bears could not get at it. All returned at evening. Some of the young men declared that they had heard the reports of guns among the mountains to the eastward, and many surmises were thrown out as to the origin of these sounds. For my part, I was in hopes that Shaw and Henry Chatillon were coming to join us. I little suspected that at that very moment my unlucky comrade was lying on a buffalo-robe at Fort Laramie, fevered with ivy poison, and solacing his woes with tobacco and Shakspeare. As we moved over the plains on the next morning, several young men rode about the country as scouts ; and at length we began to see them occasionally on the tops of the hills, shaking their robes as a signal that they saw buffalo. Soon after, some bulls came in sight. Horse- men darted away in pursuit, and we could see from the distance that one or two of the buffalo were killed. Ray- mond suddenly became inspired. " This is the country for me ! " he said ; " if I could only carry the buffalo that are killed here every month down to St. Louis, I'd make my fortmie in one winter THE OGILLALLAH VILLAGE, 205 I'd grow as rich as old Papin, or Mackenzie either. I call this the poor man's market. When I'm hungry, I've only got to take my rifle and go out and get better meat than the rich folks down below can get, with all their money. You won't catch me living in St. Louis another winter.'* " No," said Reynal, " you had better say that, after you and your Spanish woman almost starved to death there. What a fool you were ever to take her to the settlements ! " " Your Spanish woman ? " said I ; " I never heard of her before. Are you married to her ? " " No," answered Raymond, " the priests don't marry their women, and why should I marry mine ?" This honorable mention of the Mexican clergy intro- duced the subject of religion, and I found that my two associates, in common with other white men in that coun- try, were as indifferent to their future welfare as men whose lives are in constant peril are apt to be. Raymond had never heard of the Pope. A certain bishop, who lived at Taos or at Santa Fe, embodied his loftiest idea of an ecclesiastical dignitary. Reynal observed that a priest had been at Fort Laramie two years ago, on his way to the Nez Perc6 mission, and that he had confessed all the men there, and given them absolution. " I got a good clearing out myself, that time," said Reynal, " and I reckon that will do for me till I go down to the settle- ments again." Here he interrupted himself with an oath, and ex- claimed : " Look ! look ! Tlie ' Panther ' is running an antelope ! " The Panther, on his black-and-white horse, one of the best in the village, came at full speed over the hill in hot pursuit of an antelope, that darted away like lightning 206 THE OREGON TRAIL. before him. The attempt was made in mere sport and bravado, for very few are the horses that can for a mo- ment compete in swiftness with this little animal. The antelope ran down the hill towards the main body of the Indians, who were moving over the plain below. Sharp yells were given, and horsemen galloped out to intercept his flight. At this he turned sharply to the left, and scoured away with such speed that he distanced all his pursuers, even the vaunted horse of The Panther himself. A few moments after, we witnessed a more serious sport. A sliaggy buffalo-bull bounded out from a neighboring hollow, and close behind him came a slender Indian boy, riding without stirrups or saddle, and lashing his eager little horse to full speed. Yard after yard he drew closer to his gigantic victim, though the bull, with his short tail erect and his tongue lolling out a foot from his foaming jaws, was straining his unwieldy strength to the utmost. A moment more, and the boy was close alongside. It was our friend the Hail-Storm. He dropped the rein on his horse's neck, and jerked an arrow like lightning from the quiver at his shoulder. " I tell you," said Reynal, " that in a year's time that boy will match the best hunter in the village. There, he has given it to him ! — and there goes another I You feel well, now, old bull, don't you, with two arrows stuck in your lights ! There, he has given him another I Hear how the Hail-Storm yells when he shoots ! Yes, jump at him ; try it again, old fellow ! You may jump all day before you get your horns into that pony ! " The bull sprang again and again at his assailant, but the horse kept dodging with wonderful celerity. At length the bull followed up his attack with a furious rush, and the Hail-Storm was put to flight, the shaggy monster follow- ing close behind. The boy clung in his seat like a leech, THE OGILLALLAH VILLAGE. 207 and secure in the speed of his little pony, looked round towards us and laughed. In a moment he was again alongside the bull who was now driven to desperation. FTis eyeballs glared through his tangled mane, and the blood flew from liis mouth and nostrils. Thus, still bat- tling with each other, the two enemies disappeared over the hill. Many of the Indians rode at full gallop towards the spot. We followed at a more moderate pace, and soon saw the bull lying dead on the side of the hill. The Indians were gathered around him, and several knives were already at work. These little instruments were plied with such wonderful address, that the twisted sinews were cut apart, the ponderous bones fell asunder as if by magic, and in a moment the vast carcass was reduced to a heap of bloody ruins. The surrounding group of savages offered no very attractive spectacle to a civilized eye. Some were cracking the huge thigh-bones and de- vouring the marrow w'ithin ; others were cutting away pieces of the livier, and other approved morsels, and swal- lowing them on the spot with the appetite of wolves. The faces of most of them, besmeared with blood from ear to ear, looked grim and horrible enough. My friend the White Shield proffered nie a marrow-bone, so skilfully laid open, that all the rich substance within was exposed to view at once. Another Indian held out a large piece of the delicate lining of the paunch ; but these courteous offerings I begged leave to decline. I noticed one little lioy who was very busy with his knife about the jaws and throat of the buffalo, from which he extracted some morsel of peculiar delicacy. It is but fair to say, that only certain parts of the animal are considered eligible in these extempore banquets. We encamped that night,and marched westward through 208 THE OREGON TRAIL. the greater part of the following day. On the next morn- ing we again resumed our journey. It was the seven- teenth of July, unless my note-book misleads me. At noon we stopped by some pools of rain-water, and in the afternoon again set forward. This double movement was contrary to the usual practice of the Indians, but all were very anxious to reach the hunting-ground, kill the neces- sary number of buffalo, and retreat as soon as possible from the dangerous neighborhood. I pass by for the pre- sent some curious incidents that occurred during these marches and encampments. Late in the afternoon of the last-mentioned day we came upon the banks of a little sandy stream, of which the Indians could not tell the name ; for they were very ill acquainted with that part of the country. So parched and arid were the prairies around, that they could not supply grass enough for the horses to feed upon, and we were compelled to move far- ther and farther up the stream in search of ground for encampment. The country was much wilder than before. The plains were gashed with ravines and broken into hollows and steep declivities, which flanked our course, as, in long scattered array, the Indians advanced up the side of the stream. Mene-Seela consulted an extraordi- nary oracle to instruct him where the buffalo were to be found. When he with the other chiefs sat down on the grass to smoke and converse, as they often did during the march, the old man picked up one of those enormous .^lack and green crickets, which the Dahcotah call by a name that signifies " They who point out the buffalo." The " Root-Diggers," a wretched tribe beyond the moun- tains, turn them to good account by making them into a sort of soup, pronounced by certain unscrupulous trap- pers to be extremely rich. Holding the bloated insect respectfully between his fingers and thumb, the old Indian THE OGILLALLAH VILLAGE. 209 lookod attentively at him and inquired, " Tell me, my father, where must we go to-morrow to find the buffalo ? " The cricket twisted about his long horns in evident em- barrassment. At last he pointed, or seemed to point, ^ them westward. Mene-Seela, dropping him gently on the grass, laughed with great glee, and said that if we went that way in the morning we should be sure to kill plenty of game. Towards evening we came upon a fresh green meadow, traversed by the stream, and deep-set among tall sterile bluffs. The Indians descended its steep bank ; and as 1 was at the rear, I was one of the last to reach this point. Lances were glittering, feathers fluttering, and the water below me was crowded with men and horses passing through, while the meadow beyond swarmed with the restless crowd of Indians. The sun was just setting, and poured its softened light upon them through an opening in the hills. I remarked to Reynal, that at last we had found a good 'camping-ground. " Oh, it's very good," replied he, ironically, " especially if there is a Snake war-party about, and they take it into their heads to shoot down at us from the top of these hills. It's no plan of mine, 'camping in such a hole as this." The Indians also seemed anxious. High up on the top of the tallest bluff, conspicuous in the bright even- ing sunlight, sat a naked warrior on horseback, look- ing around over the neighboring country ; and Raymond told me that many of the young men had gone out in dif- ferent directions as scouts. The shadows had reached to the very summit of the bluffs before the lodges were erected, and the village re- duced again to quiet and order. A cry was suddenly 14 210 THE OREGON TRAIL. raised, and men, women, and children came runmng out with animated faces, and looked eagerly through the opening in the hills by which the stream entered from the westward. I could discern afar off some dark, heavy masses, passing over the sides of a low hill. They dis- appeared, and then others followed. These were bands of buffalo-cows. The hunting-ground was reached at last, and every thing pron^ised well for the morrow's chase. Being fatigued and exhausted, I lay down in Kongra-Tonga's lodge, when Raymond thrust in his head, and called upon me to come and see some sport. A number of Indians were gathered, laughing, along the line of lodges on the western side of the village, and at some distance, I could plainly see in the twilight two huge black monsters stalking, heavily and solemnly, di- rectly towards us. They were buffalo-bulls. The wind blew from them to the village, and such was their blind- ness and stupidity, that they were advancing upon the enemy without the least consciousness of his presence. Raymond told me that two young men had hidden them- selves with guns in a ravine about twenty yards in front of us. The two bulls walked slowly on, heavily swing- ing from side to side in their peculiar gait of stupid dignity. They approached within four or five rods of the ravine where the Indians lay in ambush. Here at last they seemed conscious that something was wrong, for they both stopped and stood perfectly still, without looking either to the right or to the left. Nothing of them was to be seen but two black masses of shaggy mane, with horns, eyes, and nose in the centre, and a pair of hoofs visible at the bottom. At last the more in- telligent of them seemed to have concluded that it was time to retire. Very slowly, and with an air of the gravest and most majestic deliberation, he began to turn THE OGILL ALLAH VILLAGE. 211 round, as if he were revolving on a pivot. Little by little his ugly brown side was exposed to view. A white smoke sprang out, as it were from the ground ; a sharp report came with it. The old bull gave a very undignified jump, and galloped off. At this his comrade wheeled about with considerable expedition. The other Indian shot at him from the ravine, and then both the bulls ran away at full speed, while half the juvenile population of the village raised a yell and ran after them. The first bull soon stopped, and while the crowd stood looking at him at a respectful distance, he reeled and rolled over on his side. The other, wounded in a less vital part, gal- loped away to the hills and escaped. In half an hour it was totally dark. I lay down to sleep, and ill as I was, there was something very ani- mating in the prospect of the general hunt that was to take place on the morrow. CHAPTER XV. THE HUNTING CAMP. T ONG before daybreak the Indians broke up their camp. ■'"' The women of Mene-Seela's lodge were as usual among the first that were ready for departure, and ] found the old man himself sitting by the embers of the decayed fire, over which he was warming his withered fingers, as the morning was very chill and damp. The preparations for moving were even more confused and dis orderly than usual. While some families were leaving the ground the lodges of others were still standing untouched At this old Mene-Seela grew impatient, and walking out to the middle of the village, he stood with his robe wrapped close around him, and harangued the people in a loud, sharp voice. Now, he said, when they were on an enemy's hunting-grounds, was not the time to behave like children ; they ought to be more active and united than ever. His speech had some effect. The delinquents took down their lodges and loaded their pack-horses ; and when the sun rose, the last of the men, women, and children had left the deserted camp. This movement was made merely for the purpose of finding a better and safer position. So we advanced only three or four miles up the little stream, when each family assumed its relative place in the great ring of the village, and the squaws set actively at work in preparing the camp. But not a single warrior dismounted from hia THE HUNTING CAMP. 218 horse. All the men that morning were mounted on inferior animals, leading their best horses bj a cord, or confiding them to the care of boys. In small parties they began to leave the ground and ride rapidly aAvay over the plains to the westward. I had taken no food, and not being at all ambitious of farther abstinence, I went into my host's lodge, which his squaws had set ap with wonderful despatch, and sat down in the centre, as a gentle hint that I was hungry. A wooden bowl was soon set before me, filled with the nutritious preparation of dried meat, called pernmican by the northern voyagers, and 2vasna by the Dahcotah. Taking a handful to break my fast upon, I left the lodge just in time to see the last band of hunters disappear over the ridge of the neighboring hill. I mounted Pauline and galloped in pursuit, riding rather by the balance than by any muscular strength that remained to me. From the top of the hill I could over- look a wide extent of desolate prairie, over which, far and near, little parties of naked horsemen were rapidly passing. I soon came up to the nearest, and we had not ridden a mile before all were united into one large and compact body. All was haste and eagerness. Each hunter whipped on his horse, as if anxious to be the first to reach the game. In such movements among the In- dians this is always more or less the case : but it was especially so in the present instance, because the head chief of the village was absent, and there were but few '• soldiers," a sort of Indian police, who among their other functions usually assume the direction of a buffalo hunt. No man turned to the right hand or to the left. We rode at a swift canter straight forward, up hill and down hill, and tlirough the stiff, obstinate growth of tlie endless wild -sage bushes. For an hour and a hall" the same red shoulders, the same long black hair rose and 214 THE OREGON TRAIL. fell with the motion of the horses before me. Very little was said, though once I observed an old man severely reproving Raymond for having left hi« rifle behind him, when there was some probability of encountering an enemy before the day was over. As we galloped across a plain thickly set with sage bushes, the foremost riders vanished suddenly from sight, as if diving into the earth. The arid soil was cracked into a deep ravine. Down we all went in succession and galloped in a line along the bottom, until we found a point where, one by one, the horses could scramble out. Soon after, we came upon a wide shallow stream, and as we rode swiftly over the hard sand-beds and through the thin sheets of rip- pling water, many of the savage horsemen threw them- selves to the ground, knelt on the sand, snatched a hasty draught, and leaping back again to their seats, galloped on as before. Meanwhile scouts kept in advance of the party ; and now we began to see them on the ridges of the hills, wav- ing their robes in token that buffalo were visible. These however proved to be nothing more than old straggling bulls, feeding upon the neighboring plains, who would stare for a moment at the hostile array and then gallop clumsily off. At length we could discern several of these scouts making their signals to us at once ; no longer wav ing their robes boldly from the top of the hill, but standing lower down, so that they could not be seen from the plains beyond. Game worth pursuing had evidently been dis- covered. The excited Indians now urged forward then tired horses even more rapidly than before. Pauline, who was still sick and jaded, began to groan heavily ; and her yellow sides were darkened with sweat. As we were crowding together over a lower intervening hill, I heard Reynal and Raymond shouting to me from the left ; and, THE HUNTING CAMP. 215 looking ill that direction, I saw them riding away behind a party of about twenty mean-looking Indians. These were the relatives of Reynal's squaw, Margot, who, not wishing to take part in the general hunt, were riding towards a distant hollow, where they saw a small band of buSalo which they meant to appropriate to them- selves. I answered to the call by ordering Raymond to turn back and follow me. He reluctantly obeyed, though Reynal, who had relied on his assistance in skinning, cut- ting up, and carrying to camp the buffalo that he and his party should kill, loudly protested, and declared that we should see no sport if we went with the rest of the Indians. Followed by Raymond, I pursued the main body of hunters, while Reynal, in a great rage, whipped his horse over the hill after his ragamuffin relatives. The Indians, still about a hundred in number, galloped in a dense body at some distance in advance, a cloud of dust flying in the wind behind them. I could not overtake them until they had stopped on the side of the hill where the scouts were standing. Here each hunter sprang in haste from the tired animal he had ridden, and leaped upon the fresh horse he had brought with him. There was not a saddle or a bridle in the whole party. A piece of buffalo-robe, girthed over the horse's back, served in the place of the one, and a cord of twisted hair, lashed round his lower jaw, answered for the other. Eagle feathers dangled f i om every mane and tail, as marks of courage and speed. As for the rider, he wore no other clothing than a light cinc- ture at his waist, and a pair of moccasins. He liad a heavy whip, with a handle of solid elk-horn, and a las-li of knotted bull-hide, fastened to his wrist by a band. His bow was in his hand, and his quiver of otter or panther skin hung at his shoulder. Thus equipped, some thirty of the hunters galloped away towards the left, in order w 216 THE OREGON TRAIL. make a circuit under cover of the hills, that the buflalo might be assailed on both sides at once. The rest im- patiently waited until time enough had elapsed for their companions to reach the required position. Then riding upward in a body, we gained the ridge of the hill, and for the first time came in sight of the buffalo on the plain beyond. They were a band of cows, four or five hundred in number, crowded together near the bank of a wide stream that was soaking across the sand-beds of the valley. This valley was a large circular basin, sun-scorched and broken, . scantily covered with herbage, and surrounded with high barren hills, from an opening in which we could see our allies galloping out upon the plain. The wind blew from that direction. The buffalo, aware of their ap- proach, had begun to move, though very slowly and in a compact mass. I have no farther recollection of seeing the game until we were in the midst of them, for as we rode down the hill other objects engrossed my attention. Numerous old bulls were scattered over the plain, and un- gallantly deserting their charge at our approach began to wade and plunge through the quicksands of the stream, and gallop awa)' towards the hills. One old veteran was straggling behind the rest, with one of his fore-legs, which had been broken by some accident, dangling about use- lessly. His appearance as he went shambling along on three legs, was so ludicrous that I could not help pausing for a moment to look at him. As I came near, he would try to rush upon me, nearly throwing himself down at ev- ery awkward attempt. Looking up, 1 saw the whole body of Indians full an hundred yards in advance. I lashed Pauline in pursuit and reached them just in time ; for, at that moment, each hunter, as if by a common impulse, violently struck his horse, each horse sprang forward, and, THE HUNTING CAMP. 217 scattering in the charge in order to assail the entire herd at once, we all rushed headlong upon the bujffalo. We were among them in an instant. Amid the trampling and the yells I could see their dark figures running hither and thither through clouds of dust, and the horsemen darting in pursuit. While we were charging on one side, our companions attacked the bewildered and panic-stricken herd on the other. The uproar and confusion lasted but a moment. The dust cleared away, and the buffalo could be seen scattering as from a common centre, flying over the plain singly, or in long files and small compact bodies, while behind them followed the Indians, riding at furious speed, and yelling as they launched arrow after arrow into their sides. The carcasses were strewn thickly over the ground. Here and there stood wounded buffalo, their bleeding sides feathered with arrows ; and as I rode by them their eyes would glare, they would bristle like gi- gantic cats, and feebly attempt to rush up and gore my horse. I left camp that morning with a philosophic resolution. Neither I nor my horse were at that time fit for such sport, and I had determined to remain a quiet spectator ; but amid the rush of horses and buffalo, the uproar and the dust, I found it impossible to sit still ; and as four or five buffalo ran past me in a line, I lashed Pauline in pur- suit. We went plunging through the water and the quick- sands, and clambering the bank, chased them through the wild- sage bushes that covered the rising ground be- yond. But neither her native spirit nor the blows of the ! knotted bull-hide could supply the place of poor Pauline's exhausted strength. We could not gain an inch upon the fugitives. At last, however, they came full upon a ravine too wide to leap over ; and as this compelled them to turn abruptly to the left, I contrived to get within ten oi 218 THE OREGON TRAIL. twelve yards of the hindmost. At this she faced about, bristled angrily, and made a show of charging. I shot at her, and hit her somewhere in the neck. Down she tumbled into the ravine, whither her companions had descended before her. I saw their dark backs appearii.g and disappearing as they galloped along the bottom ; then, one by one, they scrambled out on the other side, and ran off as before, the wounded animal following with the rest. Turning back, I saw Raymond coming on his black mule to meet me ; and as we rode over the field together, we counted scores of carcasses lying on the plain, in the ravines, and on the sandy bed of the stream. Far away in the distance, horsemen and buffalo were still scouring along, with clouds of dust rising behind them ; and over the sides of the hills long files of the frightened animals were rapidly ascending. The hunters began to return. The boys, who had held the horses behind the hill, made their appearance, and the work of flaying and cutting up began in earnest all over the field. I noticed my host Kongra-Tonga beyond the stream, just alighting by the side of a cow which he had killed. Riding up to him, I found him in the act of drawing out an arrow, which, with the exception of the notch at the end, had entirely disappeared in the animal. I asked him to give it to me, and 1 still retain it as a proof, though by no means the most striking one that could be offered, of the force and dexterity with which the Indians discharge their arrows. The hides and meat were piled upon the horses, and the hunters began to leave the ground. Raymond and I, too, getting tired of the scene, set out for the village, riding straight across the intervening desert. There was no path, and as far as I could see, no landmarks sufficient to guide us ; but Raymond seemed to have an instinctive THE HUNTING CAMP. 219 [lerception of the point on the horizon towards which wtj ought to direct our course. Antelope were bounding on all sides, and as is always the case in the presence of buffalo, they seemed to have lost their natural shyness. Bands of them would run lightly up the rocky declivities, and stand gazing down upon us from the summit. At length we could distinguish the tall white rocks and the old pine-trees that, as we well remembered, were just above the site of the encampment. Still we could see nothing of the camp itself, until, mounting a grassy hill, we saw the circle of lodges, dingy with storms and smoke, standing on the plain at our feet. I entered the lodge of my host. His squaw instantly brought me food and water, and spread a buffalo-robe for me to lie upon ; and being much fatigued I lay down and fell asleep. In about an hour, the entrance of Kongra- Tonga, with his arms smeared with blood to the elbows, awoke me : he sat down in his usual seat, on the left side of the lodge. His squaw gave him a vessel of water for washing, set before him a bowl of boiled meat, and, as he was eating, pulled off his bloody moccasins and placed fresh ones on his feet ; then outstretching his limbs, my host composed himself to sleep. And now the hunters, two or three at a time, came rapidly in, and each consigning his horses to the squaws, entered his lodge with the air of a man whose day's work was done. The squaws flung down the load from the burdened horses, and vast piles of meat and hides were soon gathered before every lodge. By this time it was darkening fast, and the whole village was illumined by the glare of fires. All the squaws and children were gathered about the piles of meat, exploring them in search of the daintiest portions. Some of these they roasted on sticks bcfoic the fires, but often they dispensed with this 220 THE OREGON TRAIL. superfluous operation. Late into the night the fires were still glowing upon the groups of fcasters engaged in this savage banquet around them. Several hunters sat down by the fire in Kongra-Tonga's lodge to talk over the day's exploits. Among the rest, Menc-Seela came in. Though he must have seen full eighty winters, he had taken an active share in the day's sport. He boasted that he had killed two cows that morn- ing, and would have killed a third if the dust had not blinded him so that he had to drop his bow and arrows and press both hands against his eyes to stop the pain. The fire-light fell upon his wrinkled face and shrivelled figure as he sat telling his story with such inimitable gesticulation that every man in the lodge broke into a laugh. Old Mene-Seela was one of the few Indians in the vil- lage with whom I would have trusted myself alone with- out suspicion, and the only one from whom I should have received a gift or a service without the certainty that it proceeded from an interested motive. He was a great friend to the whites. He liked to be in their society, and was very vain of the favors he had received from them. He told me one afternoon, as we were sitting together in his son's lodge, that he considered the beaver and the whites the wisest people on earth ; indeed, he was con- vinced they were the same ; and an incident which had hap|)ened to him long before had assured him of this. So he began the following story, and as the pipe passed in turn to him, Reynal availed himself of these interruptions to translate what had preceded. But the old man ac- companied his words with such admirable pantomime that translation was hardly necessary. He said that when he was very young, and had never yet seen a \\hite man, he and three or four of his companions THE HUNTING CAMP. 221 were out on a beaver hunt, and he crawled into a large Deaver-lodge, to see what was there. Sometimes he crept on his hands and knees, sometimes he was obliged to swim, and sometimes to lie flat on his face and drag himself along. In this way he crawled a great distance under ground. It was very dark, cold, and close, so that at last he was almost suffocated, and fell into a swoon. When he began to recover, he could just distinguish the voices of his companions outside, who had given him up for lost, and were singing his death-song. At first he could see nothing, but soon discerned something white before him, and at length plainly distinguished three peo- ple, entirely white, one man and two women, sitting at the edge of a black pool of water. He became alarmed, and thought it high time to retreat. Having succeeded, after great trouble, in reaching daylight again, he went to the spot directly above the pool of water where he had seen the three mysterious beings. Here he beat a hole with his war-club in the ground, and sat down to watch. In a moment the nose of an old male beaver appeared at the opening. Mene-Seela instantly seized him and dragged him up, when two other beavers, both females, thrust out their heads, and these he served in the same way. " These," said the old man, concluding his story, for which he was probably indebted to a dream, " must have been the three white people whom I saw sitting at the edge of the water." Mene-Seela was the grand depositary of the legends and traditions of the village. I succeeded, however, in getting from him only a few fragments. Like all Indians, he was excessively superstitious, and continually saw some rea- son for withholding his stories. " It is a bad thing," he would say, •• to tell the tales in summer. Stay with us till next winter, and I will tell you every thing I know ; 222 THE OREGON TRAIL. but now our war-parties are going out, and our young men will be killed if I sit down to tell stories before the frost begins." But to leave this digression. We remained encamped an this spot five days, during three of which the hunters were at work incessantly, and immense quantities of meat and hides were brought in. Great alarm, however, pre- vailed in the village. All were on the alert. The young men rauged the country as scouts, and the old men paid careful attention to omens and prodigies, and especially to their dreams. In order to convey to the enemy (who, if they were in the neighborhood, must inevitably have known of our presence) the impression that we were con- stantly on the watch, piles of sticks and stones were erected on all the surrounding hills, in such a manner as to appear at a distance like sentinels. Often, even tp this hour, that scene will rise before my mind like a visible reality ; the tall white rocks ; the old pine-trees on their summits ; the sandy stream that ran along their bases and half encircled the village ; and the wild-sage bushes, with their dull green hue and their medicinal odor, that covered all the neighboring declivities. Hour after hour the squaws would pass and repass with their vessels of water between the stream and the lodges. For the most part, no one was to be seen in the camp but women and children, two or three superannuated old men, and a few lazy and worthless young ones. These, together with the dogs, now grown fat and good-natured with the abundance in the camp, were its only tenants. Still it presented a busy and bustling scene. In all quarters the meat, hung on cords of hide, was drying in the sun, and around the lodges, the squaws, young and old, were laboring on the fresh hides stretched upon the ground, scraping the hair from one side and the still adhering flesh from the other, THE HUNTING CAMP. 22[) and rubbing into them the brains of the bufifalo, in order to render them soft and pliant. In mercy to myself and my horse, I did not go out with the hunters after the first day. Of late, however, I had been gaining strength rapidly, as was always the case upon every respite of my disorder. I was soon able to walk with ease. Raymond and I would go out upon the neigli- boring prairies to shoot antelope, or sometimes to assail straggling buffalo, on foot ; an attempt in which we met with rather indifferent success. As I came out of Kongra- Tonga's lodge one morning, Reynal called to me from the opposite side of the village, and asked me over to break- fast. The breakfast was a substantial one. It consisted of the rich, juicy hump-ribs of a fat cow; a repast abso- lutely unrivalled in its way. It was roasting before the fire, impaled upon a stout stick, which Reynal took up and planted in the ground before his lodge ; when he, with Raymond and myself, taking our seats around it, unsheathed our knives and assailed it with good will. In spite of all medical experience, this solid fare, without bread or salt, seemed to agree with me admirably. " We shall have strangers here before night," said Reynal. " How do you know that ? " I asked. " I dreamed so. I am as good at dreaming as an In- dian. There's the Hail-Storm ; he dreamed the same thing, and he and his crony, The Rabbit, have gone out on discovery." I laughed at Reynal for his credulity, went over to my liost's lodge, took down my rifle, walked out a mile or two on the prairie, saw an old bull standing alone, crawled up a ravine, shot him, and saw him escape. Then, ex- liaiisted and rather ill-humored, I walked back to the village. By a strnngc coincidence, Reynal's prediction 224 THE OREGON TRAIL. had been verified ; for the first persons whom I saw were the two trappers, Rouleau and Saraphin, coming to meet me. These men, as the reader may possibly recollect, had left our party about a fortnight before. They had been trapping among the Black Hills, and were now on their way to the Rocky Mountains, intending in a day or two to set out for the neighboring Medicine Bow. They were not the most elegant or refined of companions, yet they made a very welcome addition to the limited society of the village. For the rest of that day we lay smoking and talking in Reynal's lodge. This indeed was no better than a hut, made of hides stretched on poles, and entirely open in front. It was well carpeted with soft bufialo- robes, and here we remained, sheltered from the sun, sur- rounded by the domestic utensils of Madame Margot's household. All was quiet in the village. Though the hunters had not gone out that day, they lay sleeping in their lodges, and most of the women were silently en- gaged in their heavy tasks. A few young men were play ing at a lazy game of ball in the area of the village ; and when they became tired, some girls supplied their place with a more boisterous sport. At a little distance, among the lodges, some children and half-grown squaws were playfully tossing one of their number in a buffalo-robe, an exact counterpart of the ancient pastime from which Sancho Panza suffered so much. Farther out on the prairie, a host of little naked boys w^ere roaming about, engaged in various rough games, or pursuing birds and ground-squirrels with their bows and arrows ; and woe to the unhappy little animals that fell into their merciless, torture-loving hands. A squaw from the next lodge, a notable housewife, named Weah Washtay, or the Good Woman, brought us a large bowl of wasna, and went into an ecstasy of delight when I presented her with a green THE HUNTING CAMP. 225 glass ring, such as I usually wore with a view to similai occasions. * The sun went down, and half the sky was glowing fiery red, reflected on the little stream as it wound away among the sage-bushes. Some young men left the vil- lage, and soon returned, driving in before them all the horses, hundreds in number, and of every size, age, and color. The hunters came out, and each securing those that belonged to him, examined their condition, and tied them fast by long cords to stakes driven in front of his lodge. It was half an hour before the bustle subsided and tranquillity was restored again. By this time it was nearly dark. Kettles were hung over the fires, around which the squaws were gathered with their children, laughing and talking merrily. A circle of a different kind was formed in the centre of the village. This was composed of the old men and warriors of repute, who sat together with their white buffalo-robes drawn close around their shoulders ; and as the pipe passed from hand to hand, their conversation had not a particle of the gravity and reserve usually ascribed to Indians. I sat down with them as usual. I had in my hand half a dozen squibs and serpents, which I had made one day when encamped upon Laramie Creek, with gunpowder and charcoal, and the leaves of " Fremont's Expedition," rolled round a stout lead-pencil. I waited till I could get hold of the large piece of burning bois-de-vache which the Indians ke})t by them on the ground for lighting their pipes. With this I lighted all the fireworks at once, and tossed them wliizzing and sputtering into the air, over the heads of the company. They all jumped up and ran off witli yelps of astonishment and consternation. After a mo- ment or two, they ventured to come back one by one, and some of the boldest, picking up the cases of burnt 15 226 THE OREGON TRAIL. paper, examined them with eager curiosity to discover their mysterious secret. From that time forward I en- joyed great repute as a " fire-medicine." The camp was filled with the low hum of cheerful voices. There were other sounds, however, of a different kind ; for from a large lodge, lighted up like a gigantic lantern by the blazing fii-e within, came a chorus of dis- mal cries and M'ailings, long drawn out, like the howling of wolves, and a woman, almost naked, was crouching close outside, crying violently, and gashing her legs with a knife till they wei'e covered with blood. Just a year before, a young man belonging to this family had been slain by the enemy, and his relatives were thus lament- ing his loss. Still other sounds might be heard ; loud earnest cries often repeated from amid the gloom, at a distance beyond the village. They proceeded from some young men who, being about to set out in a few days on 'i war-party, were standing at the top of a hill, calling on the Great Spirit to aid them in their enterprise. While I was listening, Rouleau, with a laugh on his care- less face, called to me and directed my attention to another quarter. In front of the lodge where Weah Washtay lived, another squaw was standing, angrily scold- ing an old yellow dog, wlio lay on the ground with his nose resting between his paws, and his eyes turned sleepily up to her face, as if pretending to give espect> ful attention, but resolved to fall asleep as soon as it was all over. " You ought to be ashamed of yourself! " said the old woman. " I have fed you well, and taken care of you ever since you were small and blind, and could only crawl about and squeal a little, instead of howling as you do now. When you grew old, I said you were a good dog. You wei'e strong and gentle when the load was put on THE HUNTING CAMP. 227 ycur back, and you never ran among the feet of the I'orses wlien we were all travelling together over the prairie. But you had a bad heart ! Whenever a rabbit jumped out of the bushes, you were always the first to run after him and lead away all the other dogs behind you. You ought to have known that it was very danger- ous to act so. When you had got far out on the prairie, and no one was near to help you, perhaps a wolf would jump out of the ravine ; and then what could you do ? You would certainly have been killed, for no dog can fight well with a load on his back. Only three days ago you ran off in that way, and turned over the bag of wooden pins with which I used to fasten up the front of the lodge. Look up there, and you will see that it is all flapping open. And now to-night you have stolen a great piece of fat meat which was roasting before the fire for my children. I tell you, you have a bad heart, and you must die ! " So saying, the squaw went into the lodge, and coming out with a large stone mallet, killed the unfortunate dog at one blow. This speech is worthy of notice, as illus- trating a curious characteristic of the Indians, who as- cribe intelligence and a power of understanding speech to the inferior animals ; to whom, indeed, according to many of their traditions, they are linked in close affinity ; and they even claim the honor of a lineal descent from bears, wolves, deer, or tortoises. As it grew late, I walked across the village to the lodge of my host, Kongra-Tonga. As I entered I saw him, by the blaze of the fire in the middle, reclining half asleep in his usual place. His couch was by no means an uncomfortable one. It consisted of buffalo-robes, laid together on the ground, and a pillow made of whitened deer-skin, stuffed with feathers and ornamented with 228 THE OREGON TRAIL. beads. At his back was a light frame-work of poles and slender reeds, against which he could lean with case when ill a sitting posture ; and at the top of it, just above his head, hung his bow and quiver. His squaw, a laughing, broad-faced woman, apparently had not yet completed her domestic arrangements, for she was bus- tling about the lodge, pulling over the utensils and the bales of dried meat that were ranged carefully around it. Unhappily, she and her partner were not the only tenants of the dwelling ; for half a dozen children were scattered about, sleeping in every imaginable posture. My saddle was in its place at the head of the lodge, and a buffalo- robe was spread on the ground before it. Wrapping my- self in my blanket, I lay down ; but had I not been extremely fatigued, the noise in the next lodge would have prevented my sleeping. There was the monotonous thumping of the Indian drum, mixed with occasional sharp yells, and a chorus chanted by twenty voices. A grand scene of gambling was going forward with all the appropriate formalities. The players were staking on the chances of the game their ornaments, their horses, and as the excitement rose, their garments, and even their weapons ; for desperate gambling is not confined to the hells of Paris. The men of the plains and forests no less resort to it as a relief to the tedious monotony of their lives, which alternate between fierce excitement and listless inaction. I fell asleep with the dull notes of the drum still sounding on my ear ; but these orgies lasted without intermission till daylight. I was soon awakened by one of the children crawling over me, while another larger one was tugging at my blanket and nestling him- self in a very disagreeable proximity. I immediately re- pelled these advances by punching the heads of these miniature savages with a short stick which I always kept THE HUNTING CAMP. 229 by me for the purpose ; and as sleeping half the day and eating much more than is good for them makes them extremely restless, this operation usually had to be re- peated four or five times in the course of the night. My host himself was the author of another formidable annoy- ance. All these Indians, and he among the rest, think themselves bound to the constant performance of certain acts as the condition on which their success in life de pends, whether in war, love, hunting, or any other em ployment. These " medicines," as they are called, which are usually communicated in dreams, are often absurd enough. Some Indians will strike the butt of the pipe against the ground every time they smoke ; others will insist that every thing they say shall he interpreted by contraries ; and Shaw once met an old man who con- ceived that all would be lost unless he compelled every white man he met to drink a bowl of cold water. My host was particularly unfortunate in his allotment. The spirits had told him in a dream that he must sing a cer tain song in the middle of every night ; and regularly at about twelve o'clock his dismal monotonous chanting would awaken me, and I would see him seated bolt up- right on his couch, going through his dolorous perform- ance with a most business-like air. There were other voices of the night, still more inharmonious. Twice or thrice, between sunset and dawn, all the dogs in the vil- lage, and there were hundreds of them, would bay and yelp in chorus ; a horrible clamor, resembling no sound that I have ever heard, except perhaps the frightful howl- ing of wolves that we used sometimes to hear, long after- ward, wlien descending the Arkansas on the trail of General Kearney's army. This canine uproar is, if possi- ble, more discord^^nt than that of the wolves. Heard at a distance slowh rising on the night, it has a strange 230 THE OREGON TRAIL. unearthly effect, and would fearfully haunt the dreams of a nervous man ; but when you are sleeping in the midst of it, the din is outrageous. One long, loud howl begins it, and voice after voice takes up the sound, till it passes around the whole circumference of the village, and the air is filled with confused and discordant cries, at once fierce and mournful. It lasts a few moments, and then dies away into silence. Morning came, and Kongra-Tonga, mounting his horse, rode out with the hunters. It may not be amiss to glance at him for an instant in his character of husband and father. Both he and his squaw, like most other Indians, were very fond of their children, whom they indulged to excess, and never punished, except in extreme cases, when they would throw a bowl of cold water over them. Their offspring became sufficiently undutiful and dis- obedient under this system of education, which tends not a little to foster that wild idea of liberty and utter intol- erance of restraint which lie at the foundation of the Indian character. It would be hard to find a fonder father than Kongra-Tonga. There was one urchin in particular, rather less than two feet high, to whom he was exceedingly attached; and sometimes spreading a buffalo-robe in the lodge, he would seat himself upon it, place his small favorite upright before him, and chant in a low tone some of the words used as an accompaniment to the war-dance. The little fellow, who could just man- age to balance himself by stretching out both arms, would lift his feet and turn slowly round and round in time to his father's music, while my host would laugh with delight, and look smiling up into my face to see if I were admiring this precocious performance of his offspring. In his capacity of husband he was less tender. The squaw who lived in the lodge with him had been liia THE HUNTING CAMP. 231 partner for many years. She took good care of liia children and his household concerns. He liked her well enough, and as far as I could see, they never quarrelled ; but his warmer affections were reserved for younger and more recent favorites. Of these he had at present only one, who lived in a lodge apart from his own. One da} while in this camp, he became displeased with her, pushed her out, threw after her her ornaments, dresses, and every thing she had, and told her to go home to her father. Having consummated this summary divorce, for which he could show good reasons, he came back, seated himself in his usual place, and began to smoke with an air of the utmost tranquillity and self-satisfaction. I was sitting in the lodge with him on that very after- noon, when I felt some curiosity to learn the history of the numerous scars that appeared on his naked body. Of some of them, however, I did not venture to inquire, for I already understood their origin. Each of his arms was marked as if deeply gashed with a knife at regular inter- vals, and there were other scars also, of a different char- acter, on his back and on either breast. They were the traces of the tortures which these Indians, in common with a few other tribes, inflict upon themselves at certain seasons ; in part, it may be, to gain the glory of courage and endurance, but chiefly as an act of self-sacrifice to secure the favor of the spirits. The scars upon the breast and back were produced by running through the flesh strong splints of wood, to which heavy buffalo-skulls are fastened by cords of hide, and the wretch runs forward with all his strength, assisted by two companions, who take liold of each arm, until the flesh tears apart and the skulls are left behind. Others of Kongra-Tonga's scars were the result of accidents ; but he had many re- ceived in war. He was one of the most noted warriors in 2»32 THE OREGON TRAIL. the village. In the course of his life he had slain, as he boasted to me, fourteen men ; and though, like other In- dians, he was a braggart and liar, yet in this statement common report bore him out. Being flattered by my inquiries, lie told me tale after tale, true or false, of his warlike exploits ; and there was one among the rest illus- trating the worst features of Indian character too well foi me to omit it. Pointing out of the opening of the lodge towards the Medicine Bow Mountain, not many miles dis- tant, he said that he was there a few summers ago with a war-party of his young men. Here they found two Snake Indians, hunting. They shot one of them with arrows, and cliased tbe other up tlie side of the mountain till they surrounded him, and Kongra-Tonga himself, jumping for- ward among the trees, seized him by the arm. Two of his young men then ran up and held him fast while he scalped him alive. They then built a great fire, and cut- ting the tendons of their captive's wrists and feet, threw him in, and held him down with long poles until he was burnt to death. He garnished his story with descriptive particulars much too revolting to mention. His features were remarkably mild and open, without the fierceness of expression common among these Indians ; and as he detailed these devilish cruelties, lie looked up into my face with the air of earnest simplicity which a little child would wear in relating to its mother some anecdote of its youthful experience. Old Mene-Seela's lodge could offer another illustration of the ferocity of Indian warfare. A bright-eyed active little boy was living there who had belonged to a village of the Gros- Ventre Blackfeet, a small but bloody and treacherous band, in close alliance with the Arapahoes. About a year before, Kongra-Tonga and a party of war- riors had found about twenty lodges of these Indians THE HUNTING CAMP. 233 upon tlic plains a little to the eastward of our present camp ; and surrounding them in the night, they butchered men, women, and children, preserving only this little boy alive. He was adopted into the old man's family, and was now fast becoming identified with the Ogillallah chil- dren, among whom he mingled on equal terms. There was also a Crow warrior in the village, a man of gigantic stature and most symmetrical proportions. Having been taken prisoner many years before and adopted by a squaw in place of a son whom she had lost, he had forgotten his old nationality, and was now both in act and inclination an Ogillallah. It will be remembered that the scheme of the grand war-party against the Snake and Crow Indians originated in this village ; and though this plan had fallen to the ground, the embers of martial ardor continued to glow. Eleven young men had prepared to go out against the enemy, and the fourth day of our stay in this camp was fixed upon for their departure. At the head of this i)arty was a well-built, active little Indian, called the Wliite Shield, whom I had always noticed for the neatness of his dress and appearance. His lodge too, though not a large one, was the best in the village, his squaw was one of the prettiest, and altogether his dwelling was the model of an Ogillallah domestic establishment. I was often a visitor there, for the White Shield being rather partial to white men used to invite me to continual feasts at all hours of the day. Once, when the substantial part of the enter- tainment was over, and he and I were seated cross-legged on a buffalo-robe smoking together very amicably, he took down his warlike equipments, which were hanging around the lodge, and displayed them with great pride and self- importance. Among the rest was a superb head-dress of featliers. Taking this from its case, he put it on and 234 THE OREGON TRAIL. stood before mc, perfectly conscious of the gallant aii which it gave to his dark face and his vigorous graceful figure. He told me that upon it were the feathers of three war-eagles, equal in value to the same number of good horses. He took up also a shield gaylj painted and hung with feathers. The effect of these barbaric ornaments was admirable. His quiver was made of the spotted skin of a small panther, common among the Black Hills, from whicli the tail and distended claws were still allowed to hang. The White Shield concluded his entertainment in a i^anner characteristic of an Indian. He begged of me a little powder and ball, for he had a gun as well as a bow and arrows ; but this I was obliged to refuse, because 1 had scarcely enough for my own use. Making him, how- ever, a parting present of a paper of vermilion, I left him quite contented. On the next morning the White Shield took cold, and was attacked with an inflammation of the throat. Im- mediately he seemed to lose all spirit, and though before no warrior in the village had borne himself njore proudly, he now moped about from lodge to lodge with a forlorn and dejected air. At length he sat down, close wrapped in his robe, before the lodge of Reynal, but when he found that neither he nor I knew how to relieve him, he arose and stalked over to one of the medicine-men of the village. This old impostor thumped him for some time with both fists, howled and yelped over him, and beat a drum close to his ear to expel the evil spirit. This treatment failing of the desired effect, the White Shield withdrew to his own lodge, where he lay disconsolate for some hours. Making his appearance once more in the afternoon, he again took his seat on the ground before Reynal's lodge, holding his throat with his hand. For some time he sat silent with his eyes fixed mournfully on the ground. At last he began to speak in a low tone. THE HUNTING CAMP. 235 " I am a brave man," he said ; " all the young men think me a great warrior, and ten of them are ready to go with me to the war. I will go and show them the enemy. Last summer the Snakes killed my brother. I ca,nnot live unless I revenge his death. To-morrow we will set out and I will take their scalps." The White Shield, as he expressed this resolution, seemed to have lost all the accustomed fire and spirit of his look, and hnng his head as if in a fit of despond- ency. As I was sitting that evening at one of the fires, I saw him arrayed in his splendid war-dress, his cheeks painted with vermilion, leading his favorite war-horse to the front of his lodge. He mounted and rode round the village, singing his war-song in a loud hoarse voice amid the shrill acclamations of the women. Then dismounting, he re- mained foi some minutes prostrate upon the ground, as if in an act of supplication. On the following morning I looked in vain for the departure of the warriors. All was quiet in the village until late in the forenoon, when the White Shield came and seated himself in his old place before us. Reynal asked him why he had not gone out to find the enemy ? " I cannot go," he answered in a dejected voice. " I liave given my war-arrows to the Meneaska." " You have only given him two of your arrows," said Reynal. " If you ask him, he will give them back again." For some time the White Shield said nothing. At last he spoke in a gloomy tone, — " One of my young men has had bad dreams. The Bjjirits of the dead came and threw stones at him in hia sleep." ]f such a dream had actually taken place it might have 236 THE OREGON TRAIL. broken up this or any other war-party, but both Reynal and I were convinced at the time that it was a mere fabrication to excuse his remaining at home. The White Shield was a warrior of noted prowess. Very probably, he would have received a mortal wound without the show of pain, and endured without flinching the worst tortures that an enemy could inflict upon him. The whole power of an Indian's nature would be sum- moned to encounter such a trial ; every influence of his education from childhood would have prepared him for it ; the cause of his suffering would have been visibly and palpably before him, and his spirit would rise to set his enemy at defiance, and gain the highest glory of a warrior by meeting death with fortitude. But when he feels him- self attacked by a mysterious evil, before whose assaults his manhood is wasted, and his strength drained away, when he can see no enemy to resist and defy, the boldest warrior falls prostrate at once. He believes that a bad spirit has taken possession of him, or that he is the victim of some charm. When suffering from a protracted dis- order, an Indian will often abandon himself to his sup- posed destiny, pine away and die, the victim of his own imagination. The same effect will often follow a series of calamities, or a long run of ill-luck, and Indians have been known to ride into the midst of an enemy's camp, or attack a grizzly bear single-handed, to get rid of a life supposed to lie under the doom of fate. Thus after all his fasting, dreaming, and calling upon the Great Spirit, the White Shield's war-party came to nought. CHAPTER XVI. THE TRAPPERS. TN speaking of the Indians, I have almost forgotten two ■^ bold adventurers of another race, the trappers Rou- leau and Saraphin. These men were bent on a hazard- ous enterprise. They were on their way to the country ranged by the Arapahoes, a day's journey west of our camp. These Arapahoes, of whom Sliaw and I afterwards fell in with a large number, are ferocious savages, who of late had declared themselves enemies to the whites, and threatened death to the first who should venture within their territory. The occasion of the declaration was as follows : — In the preceding spring, 1845, Col. Kearney left Fort Leavenworth with several companies of dragoons, marched to Fort Laramie, passed along the foot of the mountains to Bent's Fort, and then, turning eastward again, returned to the point whence he set out. While at Fort Laramie, he sent a part of his command as far westward as Sweet- water, while he himself remained at the fort, and de- spatclied messages to the surrounding Indians to meet him there in council. Then for the first time the tribes of that vicinity saw the white warriors, and, as might have been expected, they were lost in astonishment at their regular order, their gay attire, the completeness of their martial equipment, and the size and strength of their horses. Among the rest, the Arapahoes came in consider- 238 THE OREGON TRAIL. able numbers to the fort. They had lately committed numerous murders, and Col. Kearney threatened that if they killed any more white men he would turn loose his dragoons upon them, and annihilate their nation. In the evening, to add effect to his speech, he ordered a howitzer to be fired and a rocket to be thrown up. Many of the Arapahoes fell flat on the ground, while others ran away screaming with amazement and terror. On the fol- lowing day they withdrew to their mountains, confounded at the appearance of the dragoons, at their big gun which went off twice at one shot, and the fiery messenger which they had sent up to tlie Great Spirit. For many months they remained quiet, and did no farther mischief. At length, just before we came into the country, one of them, by an act of the basest treachery, killed two white men, Boot and May, who were ti-apping among the mountains. For this act it was impossible to discover a motive. It seemed to spring from one of those inexplicable impulses which often possess Indians, and which appear to be mere outbreaks of native ferocity. No sooner was the murder committed than the whole tribe were in consternation. They expected every day that the avenging dragoons would come, little thinking that a desert of nine hundred miles lay between them and their enemy. A large depu- tation of them came to Fort Laramie, bringing a valuable present of horses, in atonement. These Bordeaux refused to accept. They tlien asked if he would be satisfied with their delivering up the murderer himself ; but he declined this offer also. The Arapahoes went back more terrified than ever. Weeks passed away, and still no dragoons a])peared. A result followed which those best acquainted with Indians had predicted. They imagined that fear had prevented Bordeaux from accepting their gifts, and that they had nothing to apprehend from the vengeance of THE TRAPPERS. 239 the whites From terror they rose to the height of inso- lence. They called the white men cowards and old women ; and a friendly Dahcotah came to Fort Laramie with the report that they were determined to kill the first white dog they could lay hands on. Had a military officer, with suitable powers, been sta- tioned at Fort Laramie ; had he accepted the offer of the Arapahoes to deliver up the murderer, and ordered him to be led out and shot, in presence of his tribe, they would have been awed into tranquillity, and much danger averted ; but now the neighborhood of the Medicine Bow Mountain was perilous in the extreme. Old Mene-Seela, a true friend of the whites, and many other of the Indians, gathered about the two trappers, and vainly endeavored to turn them from their purpose ; but Rouleau and Saraphin only laughed at the danger. On the morning preceding that on which they were to leave the camp, we could all see faint white columns of smoke rising against the dark base of the Medicine Bow. Scouts were sent out immedi- ately, and reported that these proceeded from an Arapahoe camp, abandoned only a few hours before. Still the two trappers continued their preparations for departure. Saraphin was a tall, powerful- fellow, with a sullen and sinister countenance. His rifle had very probably drawn Dther blood than that of buffalo or Lidians. Rouleau had a broad ruddy face, marked with as few traces of thought or care as a child's. His figure was square and sti'ong, but the first joints of both his feet were frozen oif, and his horse had lately thrown and trampled upon him, by which he had been severely injured in the chest. But nothing could subdue his gaycty. He went all day roll- ing about the camp on his stumps of feet, talking, singing, and frolicking with the Lidian women. Rouleau had an unlucky partiality for squaws. He always had one, whom 240 . THE OREGON TRAIL. he must needs bedizen with beads, ribbons, and all the finery of an Indian wardrobe ; and though he was obliged to leave her behind him during his expeditions, this haz- ardous necessity did not at all trouble him, for his dis- position was the reverse of jealous. If at any time he had not lavished the whole of the precarious profits of his vocation upon his dark favorite, he devoted the rest to feasting his comrades. If liquor was not to be had — and this was usually the case — strong coffee would be substituted. As the men of that region are by no means remarkable for providence or self-restraint, what^ ever was set before them on these occasions, however ex- travagant in price or enormous in quantity, was sure to be disposed of at one sitting. Like other trappers. Rou- leau's life was one of contrast and variety. It was only at certain seasons, and for a limited time, that he was absent on his expeditions. For the rest of the year he would lounge about the fort, or encamp with his friends in its vicinity, hunting, or enjoying all the luxury of inaction ; but when once in pursuit of the beaver, he wai^ involved in extreme privations and perils. Hand and foot, eye and ear, must be always alert. Frequently he must con- tent himself with devouring his evening meal uncooked, lest the light of his fire should attract the eyes of some wandering Indian ; and sometimes having made his rude repast, he must leave his fire still blazing, and withdraw to a distance under cover of the darkness, that his disap- pointed enemy, drawn thither by the light, may find his victim gone, and be unable to trace his footsteps in the gloom. This is the life led by scores of men among the Rocky Mountains. I once met a trapper whose breast was marked with the scars of six bullets and arrows, one of his arms broken by a shot and one of his knees shattered ; yet still, with the mettle of New England, THE TRAPPERS. 241 whence he had come, he continued to follow his perilous calling. On the last day of our stay in this camp, the trappers were ready for departure. When in the Black Hills they had caught seven beavers, and they now left their skins in charge of Reynal, to be kept until their return. Their strong, gaunt horses were equipped with rusty Spanish bits, and rude Mexican saddles, to which wooden stir- rups were attached, while a buffalo-robe was rolled up be- hind, and a bundle of beaver-traps slung at the pommel, Tliese, together with their rifles, knives, powder-horna and bullet-pouches, flint and steel and a tin cup, com- posed their whole travelling equipment. Tliey shook hands A\ith us, and rode away ; Saraphin, with his grim countenance, was in advance ; but Rouleau, clambering gayly into his seat, kicked his horse's sides, flourished his whip, and trotted briskly over the prairie, trolling forth a Canadian song at the top of his voice. Reynal looked after them with his face of brutal selfishness. " Well," he said, " if they are killed, I shall have the beaver. They'll fetch me fifty dollars at the fort, any- how." This was the last I saw of them. We had been five days in the hunting-camp, and the meat, which all this time had hung drying in the sun, was now fit for transportation. Buffalo-hides also had been pi'ocured in sufficient quantities for making the next season's lodges ; but it remained to provide the long poles on which they were to be supported. These were only to be had among the tall spruce woods of the Black Hills, and in that direction therefore our next move was to be made. Amid the general abundance which during this time had pi-evailed in the camp, there were no instances of indi- vidual privation ; for although the hide and the tongue of 16 242 THE OREGON TRAIL. the buffalo belong by exclusive right to the hunter who has killed it, yet any one else is equally entitled to help himself from the rest of the carcass. Thus the weak, the aged, and even the indolent come in for a share of the spoils, and many a helpless old woman, who would other- wise perish from starvation, is sustained in abundance. On the twenty-fifth of July, late in the afternoon, the camp broke up, with the usual tumult and confusion, and we all moved once more, on horseback and on foot, over the plains. We advanced however but a few miles. The old men, who during the whole march had been stoutly striding along on foot in front of the people, now seated themselves in a circle on the ground, while the families, erecting their lodges in the prescribed order around them, formed the usual great circle of the camp ; meanwhile these village patriarchs sat smoking and talking. I threw my bridle to Raymond, and sat down as usual along with them. There was none of that reserve and appar- ent dignity which an Indian always assumes when in council, or in the presence of white men whom he dis- trusts. The party, on tlie contrary, was an extremely merry one, and as in a social circle of a quite different character, " if there was not much wit, there was at least a great deal of laughter." When the first pipe was smoked out, I rose and with- drew to the lodge of my host. Here I was stooping, in the act of taking off my powder-horn and bullet-pouch, when suddenly, and close at hand, pealing loud and shrill, and in right good earnest, came the terrific yell of the war-whoop. Kongra-Tonga's squaw snatched up her youngest child, and ran out of the lodge. I followed, and found the whole village in confusion, resounding with cries and yells. Tlie circle of old men in the centre had vanished. Tlie warriors, with glittering eyes, came dart- THE TRAPPERS. 243 Ing, weapons in hand, out of the low openings of the lodges, and running with wild yells towards the farther end of the village. Advancing a few rods in that direc- tion, I saw a crowd in furious agitation. Just then I dis- tinguished the voices of Raymond and Reynal, shouting to me from a distance, and looking back, I saw the latter with his rifle in his hand, standing on the farther bank of a little stream that ran along the outskirts of the camp. He was calling to Raymond and me to come over and join him, and Raymond, with his usual deliberate gait and stolid countenance, was already moving in that direction. This was clearly the wisest course, unless we wished to involve ourselves in the fray ; so I turned to go, but just then a pair of eyes, gleaming hke a snake's, and an aged familiar countenance was thrust from the opening of a neighboring lodge, and out bolted old Mene-Seela, full of fight, clutcliing his bow and arrows in one hand and his knife in the other. At that instant he tripped and fell sprawling on his face, while his weapons flew scattering in every direction. The women with loud screams were hurrying with their children in their arms to place them out of danger, and I observed some hastening to prevent mischief, by carrying away all the weapons they could lay hands on. On a rising ground close to the camp stood a line of old women singing a medicine-song to allay tlie tumult. As I approached the side of the brook, I heard gun-shots behind me, and turning back saw that tlie crowd had separated into two long lines of naked warriors con- fronting each other at a respectful distance, and yelling and jumping about to dodge the shot of their adversa- ries, while they discharged bullets and arrows against each other. At the same time certain sharp, humming sounds in the air over my head, like the flight of beetles on a summer evening, warned me that the danger wan 241 THE OREGON TRAIL. not wholly confined to the immediate scene of the fray, So wading througli the brook, I joined Reynal and Ray- mond, and we sat down on the grass, in the posture of an armed neutrality, to watch the result. Happily it may be for ourselves, though contrary to our expectation, the disturbance was quelled almost as soon as it began. When I looked again, the combatants were once more mingled together in a mass. Though yells sounded occasionally from the throng, the firing had en- tirely ceased, and I observed five or six persons moving busily about, as if acting the part of peace-makers. One of the village heralds or criers proclaimed in a loud voice something which my two companions were too much en- grossed in their own observations, to translate for me. The crowd began to disperse, though many a deep-set black eye still glittered with an unnatural lustre, as the warriors slowly withdrew to their lodges. This fortunate suppression of the disturbance was owing to a few of the old men, less pugnacious than Mene-Seela, who boldly ran in between the combatants, and aided by some of the " soldiers," or Indian police, succeeded in effecting their object. It seemed very strange to me that although many ar- rows and bullets were discharged, no one was mortally hurt, and I could only account for this by the fact that both the marksman and the object of his aim were leaping about incessantly. By far the greater part of the villagers had joined in the fray, for although there were not more than a dozen guns in the whole camp, I heard at least eight or ten shots fired. In a quarter of an hour all was comparatively quiet. A group of warriors was again seated in the middle of the village, but this time I did not venture to join them, because I could see that the pipe, contrary to the usual THE TRAPPERS. 245 order, was passing from the left hand to the right around the circle ; a sure sign that a "medicine-smoke " of recon- ciliation was going forward, and that a white man would be an intruder. When I again entered the still agitated camp it was nearly dark, and mournful cries, howls, and wailiugs resounded from many female voices. Whether tliese had any connection with the late disturbance, or were merely lamentations for relatives slain in some former war expeditions, I could not distinctly ascertain. To inquire too closely into the cause of the quarrel was by no means prudent, and it was not until some time after that I discovered what had given rise to it. Among the Dahcotah there are many associations or fraternities, su]3erstitious, warlike, or social. Among them was one called " The Arrow-Breakers," now in great measure dis- banded and dispersed. In the village there were however four men belonging to it, distinguished by the peculiar arrangement of their hair, which rose in a high bristling mass above their foreheads, adding greatly to their ap- parent height, and giving them a most ferocious appear- ance. The principal among them was the Mad Wolf, a warrior of remarkable size and strength, great courage, and the fierceness of a demon. I had always looked upon him as the most dangerous man in the village ; and though he often invited me to feasts, I never entered his lodge .marmed. The Mad Wolf had taken a fancy to a fine horse belonging to another Indian, called the Tall Bear ; and anxious to get the animal into his possession, he made the owner a present of another horse nearly equal in value. According to the customs of the Dahcotah, the acceptance of this gift involved a sort of obligation to make a return ; and the Tall Bear well understood that the other had his favorite buffalo-horse in view. He how- ever accepted the present without a word of thanks, and 246 THE OREGON TRAIL. having picketed the horse before his lodge, suffered day after day to pass without making the expected return. The Mad Wolf grew impatient ; and at last, seeing that his bounty was not likely to produce the desired result, he resolved to reclaim it. So this evening, as soon as the village was encamped, he went to the lodge of the Tall Bear, seized upon the horse he had given him, and led him away. At this the Tall Bear broke into one of those fits of sullen rage not uncommon among Indians, ran up to the unfortunate horse, and gave him three mor- tal stabs with his knife. Quick as lightning the Mad Wolf drew his bow to its utmost tension, and held the arrow quivering close to the breast of his adversary. The Tall Bear, as the Indians who were near him said, stood with his bloody knife in his hand, facing the assailant with the utmost calmness. Some of his friends and rela- tives, seeing his danger, ran hastily to his assistance. The remaining three Arrow-Breakers, on the other hand, came to the aid of their associate. Their friends joined them, the war-cry was raised, and the tumult became general. The " soldiers," who lent their timely aid in putting it down, are the most important executive functionaries in an Indian village. The office is one of considerable honor, being confided only to men of courage and repute. They derive their authority from the old men and chief war- riors of the village, who elect them in councils occasionally convened for the purpose, and thus can exercise a degree of authority which no one else in the village would dare to assume. While very few Ogillallah chiefs could venture without risk of their lives to strike or lay hands upon the meanest of their people, the *' soldiers," in the discharge of their appropriate functions, have full license to make use of these and similar acts of coercion. CHAPTER XVII. THE BLACK HILLS. "f T TE travelled eastward for two days, and then the ^ ^ gloomy ridges of tlie Black Hills rose up before us. Tlie village passed along for some miles beneath ihcir declivities, trailing out to a great length over the ai'id praiiie, or winding among small detached hills of distorted shapes. Turning sharply to the left, we entered a wide defile of the mountains, down the bottom of which a brook came winding, lined with tall grass and dense copses, amid which were hidden many beaver dams and lodges. We passed along between two lines of high pre- cipices and rocks piled in disorder one upon another, with scarcely a tree, a bush, or a clump of grass. The restless Indian boys wandered along their edges and clambered up and down their rugged sides, and sometimes a group of them would stand on the verge of a cliff and look down on the procession as it passed beneath. As we advanced, the passage grew more narrow ; then it suddenly expanded into a round grassy meadow, completely encompassed by mountains ; and here the families stopped as they came up in turn, and the camp rose like magic. The lodges were hardly pitched when, with their usual precipitation, the Indians set about accomplishing the o])ject that had brought them there ; that is, obtaining poles for their new lodges. Half the population, men, women, and boys, mounted their horses and set out fo/ '2-18 THE OREGON TRAIL. the depths of the mountains. It was a strange caval cade, as they rode at full gallop over the shingly rocks and into the dark opening of the defile beyond. We passed between precipices, sharp and splintering at the tops, their sides beetling over the defile or descending in abrupt declivities, bristling with fir-trees. On our left they rose close to us like a wall, but on the right a winding brook with a narrow strip of marshy soil intervened. The stream was clogged with old beaver-dams, and spread frequently into wide pools. There were thick bushes and many dead and blasted trees along its course, though fre- quently nothing remained but stumps cut close to the ground by the beaver, and marked with the sharp chisel- like teeth of those indefatigable laborers. Sometimes we dived among trees, and then emerged upon open spots, over which, Indian-like, all galloped at full speed. As Pauline bounded over the rocks I felt her saddle-girth slipping, and alighted to draw it tighter ; when the whole calvacade swept past me in a moment, the women with their gaudy ornaments tinkling as they rode, the men whooping, laughing, and lashing forward their horses. Two black-tailed deer bounded away among the rocks ; Raymond shot at them from horseback ; the sharp report of his rifle was answered by another equally sharp from the opposing cliffs, and then the echoes, leaping in rapid succession from side to side, died away rattling far am'd the mountains. After ha\'ing ridden in this manner six or eight miles, the scene changed, and all the declivities were covered with forests of tall, slender spruce-trees. The Indians began to fall off to the right and left, dispersing with their hatchets and knives to cut the poles which they had come to seek. I was soon left almost alone ; but in the stillness of those lonely mountains, the stroke of hatchets THE BLACK HILLS. 249 and the sound of voices might be heard from far and near. Reynal, who imitated the Indians in their habits as well as the worst features of their character, had killed buffalo enough to make a lodge for himself and his squaw, and now he was eager to get the poles necessary to complete it. He asked me to let Raymond go with him, and assist in the work. I assented, and the two men immediately entered the thickest part of the wood. Having left my horse in Raymond's keeping, I began to climb the moun- tain. I was weak and weary, and made slow progress, often pausing to rest, but after an hour, I gained a height whence the little valley out of which I had climbed seemed like a deep, dark gulf, though the inaccessible peak of the mountain was still towering to a much greater distance above. Objects familiar from childhood surrounded me ; crags and rocks, a black and sullen brook that gurgled with a hollow voice deep among the crevices, a wood of mossy distorted trees and prostrate trunks flung down by age and storms, scattered among the rocks, or damming the foaming waters of the brook. Wild as they were, these mountains were thickly peo- pled. As I climbed farther, I found the broad dusty paths made by the elk, as they filed across the mountain side. The grass on all the terraces was trampled down by deer; there were numerous tracks of wolves, and in some of the rougher and more precipitous parts of the ascent, I found foot-prints different from any that I had ever seen, and which I took to be those of the Rocky Mountain sheep. I sat down upon a rock ; there was a perfect stillness. No wind was stirring, and not even an insect could be heard. I remembered the danger of becoming lost in such a place, and fixed my eye upon one of the tallest pinnacles of the opposite mountain 250 THE OREGON TRAIL. It rose sheer upright from the woods below, and, by an extraordinary freak of nature, sustained aloft on its very summit a large loose rock. Such a landmark could never be mistaken, and feeling once more secure, I began again to move forward. A white wolf jumped up from among some bushes, and leaped clumsily away ; but he stopped for a moment, and turned back his keen eye and grim bristling muzzle. I longed to take his scalp and carry it back with me, as a trophy of the Black Hills, but before 1 could fire, he was gone among the rocks. Soon after I heard a rustling sound, with a cracking of twigs at a little distance, and saw moving above the tall bushes the branching antlers of an elk. I was in the midst of a hunter's paradise. Such are the Black Hills, as I found them in July ; but they wear a different garb when winter sets in, when the broad boughs of the fir-trees are bent to the ground by the load of snow, and the dark mountains are white with it. At that season the trappers, returned from their autumn expeditions, often build their cabins in the midst of these solitudes, and live in abundance and luxury on the game that harbors there. I have heard tliem tell, how with their tawny mistresses, and perhaps a few young Indian companions, they had spent months in total seclusion. They would dig pitfalls, and set traps for the white wolves, sables, and martens, and though through the whole night the awful chorus of the wolves would resound from the frozen mountains around them, yet within their massive walls of logs they would lie in care- less 3ase before the blazing fire, and in the morning shoot the elk and deer from their verj door. CHAPTER XVm. A MOUNTAIN HUNT. '' I "HE camp was full of the newlj-cut lodge-poles, -■- some, already prepared, were stacked together, white and glistening, to dry and harden in the sun ; others were Iving on the ground, and the squaws, the boys, and even some of the warriors, were busily at work peeling off the bark and paring them with their knives to the proper, dimensions. Most of the hides obtained at the last camp were dressed and scraped thin enough for use, and many of the squaws were engaged in fittmg them together and sewing them with sinews, to form the coverings for the lodges. Men were wandering among the bushes that lined the brook along the margin of the camp, cutting sticks of red willow, or shongmsha^ the bark of which, mixed with tobacco, they use for smok- ing. Rcynal's squaw was hard at work with her awl and buffalo sinews upon her lodge, while her proprietor, having just finished an enormous breakfast of meat, was smoking a social pipe with Raymond and myself. He proposed at length that we should go out on a hunt. " Go to the Big Crow's lodge," said he, " and get your rifle. Ill bet the gray "Wyandot pony against your mare that wo start an elk or a black-tailed deer, or likely as not, a big-horn before we are two miles out of camp. I'll lake my squaw's old yellow horse; you can't whip her more than four miles an hour, but she is as good for the mountains as a mule." 252 THE OREGON TRAIL. I mounted the black mule which Raymond usually rode. She was a powerful animal, gentle and manage- able enough by nature; but of late her temper had been soured by misfortune. About a week before, I had chanced to offend some one of the Indians, who out of revenge went secretly into the meadow and gave her a severe stab in the haunch with his knife. The wound, though partially healed, still galled her extremely, and made her even more perverse and obstinate than the rest of her species. The morning was a glorious one, and I was in better health than I had been at any time for the last two months. We left the little valley and ascended a rocky liollow in the mountain. Very soon we were out of sight of the camp, and of every living thing, man, beast, bird, or insect. I had never before, except on foot, passed over such execrable ground, and I desire never to repeat the experiment. The black mule grew indignant, and even the redoubtable yellow horse stumbled every mo- ment, and kept groaning to himself as he cut his feet and legs among the sharp rocks. It was a scene of silence and desolation. Little was visible except beetling crags and the bare shingly sides of the mountains, relieved by scarcely a trace of vegeta- tion. At length, however, we came upon a forest tract, and had no sooner done so than we heartily -wished our- selves back among the rocks again ; for we were on a steep descent, among trees so thick that we could see flcarcely a rod in any direction. If one is anxious to place himself in a situation where the hazardous and the ludicrous are combined in about equal proportions, let him get upon a vicious mule, with a snaffle bit, and try to drive her through the woods down a slope of forty-five degrees. Let him have a long A MOUNTAIN HUNT. 253 rifle, a buckskin frock with long fringes, and a head of long hair. These latter appendages will be caught every moment and twitched away in small portions by the twigs, which will also whip him smartly across the face, while the large branches above thump him on the head. His mule, if she be a true one, will alternately stop short and dive violently forward, and his positions upon her back will be somewhat diversified. At one time he will clasp her affectionately, to avoid the blow of a bough overhead ; at another, he will throw himself back and fling his knee forward against her neck, to keep it from being crushed between the rough bark of a tree and the ribs of the animal. Reynal was cursing incessantly dur- ing the whole way down. Neither of us had the re- motest idea where we were going ; and though 1 have seen rough riding, I shall always retain an evil recollec- tion of that five minutes' scramble. At last we left our troubles behind us, emerging into the channel of a brook that circled along the foot of the descent ; and here, turning joyfully to the left, we rode at ease over the white pebbles and the rippling water, shaded from the glaring sun by an overarching green trans- parency. These halcyon moments were of short durar tion. The friendly brook, turning sharply to one side, went brawling and foaming down the rocky hill into an abyss, which, as far as we could see, had no bottom ; so once more we betook ourselves to the detested woods. When next we came out from their shadow and sur light, we found ourselves standing in the broad glare of day, on a high jutting point of the mountain. Before us stretched a long, wide, desert valley, ^vinding away far amid the mountains. Reynal gazed intently ; he began to speak at last : — " Many a time, when I was with the Indians, I ha\ e 25-1: THE OREGON TRAIL. been hunting for gold all through the Black Hills. There's plenty of it here ; you may be certain of that. 1 have dreamed about it fifty times, and I never dreamed yet but what it came out true. Look over yonder at those black rocks piled up against that other big rock. Don't it look as if there might be something there ? It won't do for a white man to be rummaging too much about these moun- tains ; the Indians say they are full of bad spirits ; and I believe myself that it's no good luck to be hunting about here after gold. Well, for all that, I would like to have one of those fellows up here, from down below, to go about with his witch-hazel rod, and I'll guarantee that it would not be long before he would light on a gold-mine. Never mind ; we'll let the gold alone for to-day. Look at those trees down below us in the hollow ; we'll go down there, and I reckon we'll get a black-tailed deer." • But Reynal's predictions were not verified. We passed mountain after mountain, and valley after valley; we ex- plored deep ravines ; yet still, to my companion's vexa- tion and evident surprise, no game could be found. So, in the absence of better, we resolved to go out on the plains and look for an antelope. With this view we began to pass down a narrow valley, the bottom of which was covered with the stitf wild-sage bushes, and marked with deep paths, made by the butfalo, vrho, for some inexpli- cable reason, are accustomed to penetrate, in their long grave processions, deep among the gorges of these sterile mountains. Reynal's eye ranged incessantly among the rocks and along the edges of the precipices, in hopes of discovering the mountain-sheep peering down upon us from that giddy elevation. Nothing was visible for some time. At length we both detected something in motion near the foot of one of the mountains, and a moment afterward a black-tailed A MOUNTAIN HUNT. 255 deer stood gazing at us from the top of a rock, and then, slowly turning- away, disappeared behind it. In an instant Reynal was out of his saddle, and running towards the ^pot, I, being too weak to follow, sat holding his horse and w^aiting the result. I lost sight of him ; then heard the report of his rifle deadened among the rocks, and finally saw him reappear, with a surly look, that plainly betrayed his ill success. Again we moved forward down the long valley, when soon after we came full upon what seemed a wide and very shallow ditch, incrusted at the bottom with white clay, dried and cracked in tlie sun. Under this fair outside Reynal's eye detected the signs of lurking mischief. He called to me to stop, and then alighting, picked up a stone and threw it into the ditch. To my amazement it fell with a dull splash, breaking at once through the thin crust, and spattering round the hole a yellowish creamy fluid, into which it sank and disap- peared. A stick, five or six feet long, lay on the ground, and with this we sounded the insidious abyss close to its edge. It was just possible to touch the bottom. Places like this are numerous among the Rocky Mountains, The buffalo, in his blind and heedless walk, often plunges into them unav;arcs. Down he sinks ; one snoi-t of terror, one convulsive struggle, and the slime calmly flows above his shaggy head, the languid undulations of its sleek and placid surface alone betraying how the powerful monster writhes in his death-throes below. We found after some trouble a point where we could pags the abyss, and now the valley began to open upon plains which spread to the horizon before us. On one of their distant swells we discerned three or four Ijlack specks, which Reynal pronounced to be buffalo. " Come," said he, " we must get one of them. My squaw wants more sinews to finish her lodge with, and ] want some glue myself." 256 THE OREGON TRAIL. He immediately put the yellow horse to such a gallop as he was capable of executing, while I set spurs to the mule, who soon far outran her plebeian rival. When we had galloped a mile or more, a large rabbit, by ill-luck, sprang up just under the feet of the mule, who bounded violently aside in full career. Weakened as I was, I was flung forcibly to the ground, and my rifle, falling close to my head, went oif with the shock. Its sharp, spiteful report rang for some moments in my ear. Being slightly stunned, I lay for an instant motionless, and Rcynal, sup posing me to be shot, rode up and began to curse the mule. Soon recovering myself, I arose, picked up the rifle and anxiously examined it. It was badly injured. The stock was cracked, and the main screw broken, so that the lock had to be tied in its place with a string ; yet happily it was not rendered totally unserviceable. I wiped it out, reloaded it, and handing it to Reynal, who meanwhile had caught the mule and led her up to me, I mounted again. No sooner had I done so, than the brute began to rear and plunge with extreme violence ; but being now well prepared for her, and free from incumbrance, I soon re- duced her to submission. Then taking the rifle again from Reynal, we galloped forward as before. We were now free of the mountains and riding far out on the broad prairie. The buffalo were still some two miles in advance of us. When we came near them, we stopped where a gentle swell of the plain concealed us, and while I held his horse Reynal ran forward with his rifle, till I lost sight of him beyond the rising ground A few minutes elapsed: I heard the report of his piece, and saw the bulfalo running away, at full speed on the right ; immediately after, the hunter himself, unsuccessful as before, came up and mounted liis horse in excessive ill-humor. He cursed the Black Hills and tlie buffalo. A MOUNTAIN HUNT. 25 T swore that he was a good hunter, which indeed was true, and that he had never been out before among those moun- tains without killing two or three deer at least. We now turned towards the distant encampment. As we rode along, antelope in considerable numbers were flying lightly in all directions over the plain, but not one of them would stand and be shot at. When we reached the foot of the mountain-ridge that lay between us and the village, we were too impatient to take the smooth and circuitous route ; so turning short to the left, we drove our wearied animals upward among the rocks. Still more antelope were leaping about among these flinty hill-sides. Each of us shot at one, though from a great distance, and each missed his mark. At length we reached the summit of the last ridge. Looking down we saw the bustling camp in the valley at our feet, and ingloriously descended to it. As we rode among the lodges, the Indians looked in vain for the fresh meat that should have hung behind our saddles, and the squaws uttered various suppressed ejaculations, to the great indignation of Reynal. Our mortification was increased when we rode up to his lodge. Here we saw his young Indian relative, the Hail-Storm, his light graceful figure reclin- ing on the ground in an easy attitude, while with his friend The Rabbit, who sat by his side, he was making an abundant meal from a wooden bowl of wasna, which the squaw had placed between them. Near him lay the fresh skin of a female elk, which he had just killed among the mountains, only a mile or two from the camp. No doubt the boy's heart was elated with triumph, but he betrayed no sign of it. He even seemed totally unconscious of our approach, and his handsome face had all the tran- quillity of Indian self-control ; a self-control which pre- vents the exhibition of emotion without restraining the 17 258 THE OREGON TRAIL. emotion itself. It was about two months since I had known the Hail-Storm, and within tliat time his charac- ter had remarkably developed. When I first saw him, he was just emerging from the habits and feelings of the boj into the ambition of the hunter and wairior. He had lately killed his first deer, and this had exciteu his asjtirations for distinction. Since that time he had been continually in search of game, and no young hunter in the Tillage had been so active or so fortunate as he. All this success had produced a marked change in his char- acter. As I first remembered him he alwavs shunned the society of the young squaws, and was extremely bash- ful and sheepish in their presence ; but now, in the con- fidence of liis new reputation, he began to assume the airs and arts of a man of gallantry. He wore his red blanket dashingly over his left shoulder, painted his checks every day with vermilion, and hung pendants of shells in his ears. If I observed aright, he met with very good success in his new pursuits ; still the Hail- Storm had much to accomplish before he attained the ftill standing of a warrior. Gallantly as he began to bear himself among the women and girls, he was still timid and abashed in the presence of the chiefs and old men ; for he had never yet killed a man, or stricken the dead body of an enemy in battle. I have no doubt that the handsome, smooth-faced boy burned with desire to flesh his maiden scalping-knife, and I would not have en- camped alone with him without watching his movements with a suspicious eye. His elder brother. The Horse, was of a ditferent char- acter. He was nothing but a lazy dandy. He knew very well how to liunt, but prefened to live by the hunt- ing of others. He had no appetite for distinction, and the Bail-Storm already surpassed him in reputation. He A MOUNTAIN HUNT. 2