Class EVZ^ 
 Book__L - 
 
 COP«?IGHT DEPOMi 
 
2iy 
 
 33^8- 
 
Francis Parkman. 
 
THE 
 
 CALIFORNIA AND OREGON 
 TRAJl 
 
 BEII4G' • *^ • \ 
 
 SKETCHES OF PRAIRIE AND ROCKY 
 MOUNTAIN LIFE 
 
 BY 
 
 FRANCIS PARKMAN, Jr. 
 
 WITH AN INTRODUCTION BY 
 
 EDWARD G. BOURNE, Ph.D. 
 
 NEW YORK 
 
 THOMAS Y. CROWELL & CO, 
 
 PUBLISHERS 
 
THE LIBRARY OF 
 
 CONGRESS, 
 Two Coptte Received 
 
 )UL. 3 1901 
 
 Copyright entry 
 
 ^AS9 A. XXo. N». 
 
 COPY B. 
 
 .fc 
 
 Copyright, 1901, 
 Bv THOMAS Y. CROWELL & CO. 
 
The journey which the following narrative de- 
 scribes was undertaken on the writer's part with a 
 view of studying the manners and character of 
 Indians in their primitive state. Although in the 
 chapters which relate to them, he has only attempted 
 to sketch those features of their wild and pictur- 
 esque life which fell, in the present instance, under 
 his own eye, yet in doing so he has constantly 
 aimed to leave an impression of their character 
 correct as far as it goes. In justifyihg his claim to 
 accuracy on this point, it is hardly necessary to 
 advert to the representations given by poets and 
 novelists, which, for the most part, are mere cre- 
 ations of fancy. The Indian is certainly entitled 
 to a high rank among savages, but his good quali- 
 ties are not those of an Uncas or an Outalissi. 
 
 The sketches were originally published in the 
 "Knickerbocker Magazine," commencing in Feb- 
 ruary, 1847. 
 
 Boston, February 15, 1849. 
 
Let him who crawls enamor'd of decay, 
 Cling to his couch, and sicken years away ; 
 Heave his thick breath, and shake his palsied head ; 
 Ours— the fresh turf, and not the feverish bed." 
 
 Byron. 
 
CONTENTS 
 
 CHAPTER ^^^'^ 
 
 I. The Frontier i 
 
 II. Breaking the Ice lo 
 
 III. Fort Leavenworth 21 
 
 IV. "Jumping Off" 25 
 
 V. The "Big Blue" 3^ 
 
 VI. The Platte and the Desert .... 58 
 
 VII. The Buffalo 73 
 
 VIII. Taking French Leave 91 
 
 IX. Scenes at Fort Laramie 109 
 
 X. The War-parties 127 
 
 XI. Scenes at the Camp 152 
 
 XII. Ill-luck I74 
 
 XIII. Hunting Indians 182 
 
 XIV. The Ogillallah Village 209 
 
 XV. The Hunting Camp 233 
 
 XVI. The Trappers 259 
 
 XVII. The Black Hills 276 
 
 XVIII. A Mountain Hunt 275 
 
 V 
 
VI CONTENTS. 
 
 CHAPTER PAGE 
 
 XIX. Passage of the Mountains 288 
 
 XX. The Lonely Journey 307 
 
 XXI. The Pueblo and Bent's Fort .... 330 
 
 XXII. Tete Rouge, the Volunteer .... 339 
 
 XXIII. Indian Alarms 344 
 
 XXIV. The Chase 357 
 
 XXV. The Buffalo-camp 367 
 
 XXVI. Down the Arkansas 385 
 
 XXVII. The Settlements 404 
 
INTRODUCTION. 
 
 In no branch of literature during the century just 
 passed have American writers secured such \\'idely 
 recognized distinction as in histor}'. The conflu- 
 ence, early in the centur\', of two strong currents 
 of intellectual activity, the critical spirit and method 
 of Wolf and Xiebu'hr, and the sympathetic con- 
 templation of the past, its monuments and life, in- 
 spired by the genius of Chateaubriand and Scott, 
 gave a powerful impetus to historical resean and 
 invested with a romantic charm times and peoples 
 which to the eighteenth century seemed equally de- 
 void of interest and instruction. In consequence 
 of the discover)- of new sources and the more pene- 
 trating and fruitful study of the old, the mass of ex- 
 isting historical literature rapidly became antiquated, 
 and the whole field of histor>' stood ready for fresh 
 exploration. The spirit and method of the new 
 scholarship were soon communicated to the United 
 States by such men as Ticknor, Everett, Bancroft, 
 and others who returned from study at Gottingen, 
 and the new historical movement in Europe was 
 hardly in full swing, in the second decade of the 
 centur\', before the younger generation of literary 
 men in this country- fell into line, and, one after an- 
 other, offered to the world historical narratives that 
 without misgiving could be ranked with the work of 
 Ranke, Raumer, Thierry, or Guizot. The achieve- 
 ments of Irving, Prescott, Ticknor, Bancroft, and 
 Motley cannot but seem surprising if one compares 
 
VIU INTRODUCTION. 
 
 our contemporary barrenness in the allied fields of 
 Philosophy and Economics. 
 
 The opportunity was, in fact, unique. The com- 
 plete renovation in historical studies forced European 
 scholars to begin again at the beginning, and Ameri- 
 cans could enter the competition on an equality with 
 them. The publication, for example, of Navar- 
 rete's documents made Robertson obsolete, and 
 opened the way for Irving to write his Columbus 
 without fearing the advent of any rival with su- 
 perior resources. Fresh from his studies in Gottin- 
 gen, and from contact with the best minds in Eng- 
 land and France, Ticknor could with equal confi- 
 dence rear the solid fabric of his History of Spanish 
 Liferaliire. In like manner, Bancroft, trained in 
 history and philosophy in the best German uni- 
 versities, brought a greater breadth of knowledge to 
 bear upon the story of the English Colonies than 
 had before been bestowed on such a theme by an 
 English writer. Prescott, too, fortunate in his 
 wealth, enlisted in his service to collect material 
 several of the most accomplished scholars in 
 Europe, and wove their contributions to his store 
 into a narrative which for literary charm none of 
 them could equal. Then, following his Spaniards 
 to the New World, in the collision of European 
 civilization with the ancient culture of Mexico and 
 Peru, he laid hold of two of the most dramatic inci- 
 dents in all history. In the meantime the long 
 panorama of the life in the northern forests, of the 
 clash of French and English, of fur-trader and set- 
 tler, and both with the Indian, had been unfolded 
 by Cooper in a series of romances that carried his 
 name and familiarized his theme throughout the 
 civilized world. 
 
 These examples naturally turned the minds of 
 young men of literary ambitions toward history. 
 
INTR OD UC TION. IX 
 
 Such was the eft'ect on Motley and Parkman, the 
 most distinguished successors of Irving and Pres- 
 cott. Motley was drawn by Prescott's success into 
 the European field, and chose for his life-work the 
 history of the struggle of the Dutch against Spanish 
 rule. Parkman, on the other hand, under the spell 
 of Cooper, and hardly less fascinated by Thierry's 
 portrayal of the movements of contending races in 
 his Norman Conquest, found, in undertaking a 
 companion picture to Prescott's Conquest of Mexico 
 and Peru, the opportunity to reconcile indulgence 
 in his profound love of wild nature with the most 
 conscientious effort to give an adequate historical 
 setting to the drama of the forest, with which the 
 novelist had delighted both hemispheres. 
 
 For the details of Parkman' s life the reader must 
 be referred to the recent biography by a friend of 
 his later years, Mr. Charles H. Farnham, which 
 contains his autobiography and considerable extracts 
 from his diaries and letters, and from such of his 
 minor writings as throw light on his life and 
 opinions ; to the admirable " Memoir" of his college 
 classmate and life-long friend, Mr. Edward Wheel- 
 wright, in the first volume of the Proceedings of the 
 Colonial Society of Massachusetts ; and for the rev- 
 elation of character to Parkman' s novel, Vassal 
 Mo7'ton. 
 
 He was born in Boston, of parents of New Eng- 
 land ancestry, September i6, 1823. His father, the 
 Rev. Francis Parkman, was for many years a promi- 
 nent Unitarian clergyman. The boyhood of the 
 historian revealed the dominant tastes of his later 
 life. Studious at school, and especially interested in 
 poetry and in acquiring a varied command over his 
 mother tongue, in vacation he spent his time in the 
 woods and in woodland sports. Later, in college, 
 where he was a member of the Harvard class of 
 
X INTR OD UC TION. 
 
 1844, these two lines of activity absorbed his ener- 
 gies, and as early as his sophomore year, when 
 only eighteen, he had chosen history as his life- 
 work, and selected as his particular subject one in 
 which his dominant tastes could both be gratified to 
 the full: "'The Old French War '—that is, the 
 war that ended in the Conquest of Canada — for here, 
 as it seemed to me, the forest-drama was more 
 stirring and the forest-stage more thronged with ap- 
 propriate actors than in any other passage of our 
 history. It was not till some years later that I en- 
 larged the plan to include the whole course of the 
 American conflict between France and England, or, 
 in other words, the history of the American forest ; 
 for this was the light in which I regarded it. My 
 theme fascinated me, and I was haunted with wil- 
 derness-images day and night." 
 
 No one of our American historians determined 
 upon his career and selected his field so early in life, 
 and no one of them made so intelhgent and broadly 
 planned a preparation for his chosen work. Irving 
 knew Spain and Spaniards, but could not know the 
 primitive inhabitants of the West Indies, nor did he 
 follow the track of Columbus ; Prescott's knowledge 
 of Spain, as of Mexico and Peru, was derived 
 wholly from books or conversation ; Bancroft's 
 tastes did not lead him to study the frontier of his 
 time where could be observed with slight variation 
 the chief phases of colonial hfe ; Motley knew his 
 Netherlands and numbered many Netherlanders 
 among his friends, but he never saw Spain and ap- 
 parently did not regard a first-hand study of the 
 Spanish character as a part of his preparation. 
 Parkman, on the other hand, while he was not less 
 assiduous in the pursuit and analysis of documents, 
 devoted extraordinary pains to the personal study 
 of the actual phenomena with which he had to deal. 
 
INTRODUCTION. XI 
 
 The scene of action was the frontier and the for- 
 est ; the actors : French and Enghsh adventurers 
 and explorers, bush-rangers and pioneers, mission- 
 aries and wild Indians. Realizing the relative per- 
 manence of these types — that frontier life and colo- 
 nial life were essentially the same, and that an identi- 
 cal environment acting on the same human factors 
 would produce in the middle of the nineteenth cen- 
 tury substantially what existed in the eighteenth — 
 Parkman not only systematically studied these 
 phases of human character where they could be 
 found, unsophisticated by modern ideas, but he 
 lived with them. His most remarkable experience 
 in this course of self-training is recounted in The 
 Oregon Trail. He had already familiarized him- 
 self with the wilder parts of New England, and dur- 
 ing his sojourn in Rome, in 1844, he had spent some 
 days in a convent of the Passionist Fathers to see 
 face to face the monk and devotee, and now he re- 
 solved to study the real Indian neither bettered nor 
 spoiled by civilization. 
 
 The St. Louis, too, of 1846, would still preserve 
 not a little that was like the Montreal of 1756. Fort 
 Laramie would reproduce in some essentials the 
 Machillimackinac of Pontiac's time, and in the 
 Oregon pioneers could be seen the counterparts of 
 the sturdy settlers of the forests of Pennsylvania and 
 Ohio ; the French half-breed trappers and guides 
 were still the same. 
 
 The Indian literature of the day was prolific, and 
 the most popular author in the country had made 
 three notable contributions to it. Yet The Oregon 
 Trail differs essentially from Irving' s Tour on the 
 Prairies, Astoj^a, or The Adventures of Captain 
 Bonneville, for it not only records the vivid im- 
 pressions by a most alert observer of a bygone 
 phase of life, but it is, in addition, a fragment of 
 
Xll INTRODUCTION. 
 
 the autobiography of an historian enjoying an 
 almost unique experience. For to Parkman the 
 whole excursion was a journey into the past. Each 
 successive stage took him not merely farther west, 
 but back in time. 
 
 He was on the prairies about five months in all, 
 about five weeks of which he spent in a village of 
 the Ogillallah Sioux. His travels extended as far 
 west as the Black Hills in Wyoming, following in 
 part the Oregon Trail, then turning toward the 
 south, he went past Pike's Peak to Pueblo, and 
 homeward in part by the Santa Fe Trail. 
 
 Powwows, war-dances, feasts, buffalo-hunting, 
 Oregon trains, Santa Fe caravans, and companies 
 of frontier troops on the march to New Mexico : all 
 the varied spectacle of a life now gone forever in 
 this country passed before his eyes and was indeli- 
 bly printed upon his mind. The influence of this 
 experience can be traced throughout all his works, 
 and in his latest volumes he recalls incidents of this 
 summer. By a strange fatality, however, a course 
 of life that has restored many invalids to health 
 nearly cost him his life, and bequeathed him an 
 accumulation of infirmities which attended him to 
 the grave. He was taken ill soon after leaving St. 
 Louis, and then, and later on during renewed at- 
 tacks of the malady, when he should have rested, 
 a seemingly imperative necessity of continued exer- 
 tion overstrained a system by nature delicate and 
 high-strung. Thenceforth he had to work impris- 
 oned by diseases and all but entire loss of sight. 
 
 Upon his return, while in search of health, he 
 dictated from his notes and diary the story of the 
 summer to his companion in the journey, Quincy 
 Adams Shaw, and the publication of it began in 
 the Knickerbocker Magazine in February, 1847, 
 with the title, ' ' The Oregon Trail, or a Summer 
 
INTRODUCTION. Xlll 
 
 Journey Out of Bounds." It was republished in 
 book form in 1849, when the pubhsher, avaihng 
 himself of the California excitement to catch the 
 eye, enlarged the title into The California ajtd 
 Oregon Trail, being Sketches of Prairie and Rocky 
 Mountain Life. The secondary title precisely de- 
 scribes the contents of the book, and the original 
 name, " Oregon Trail," must have been selected in 
 1847 for the same reasons which led the pubhsher, 
 in 1849, to add "California" to the title-page. As 
 far as the contents go, the name " Santa Fe Trail" 
 would have been equally appropriate. 
 
 Before the appearance of The Oregon Trail m 
 book form Parkman began the composition of the 
 Conspiracy of Pontiac. In the midst of obstacles, 
 always apparently insurmountable, and for long 
 stretches actually so, with heroic fortitude he kept 
 at work when most men would have given up in 
 despair. For many years he was unable to read 
 or write for more than five minutes at a time, and 
 the first part of Po7itiac was written at the rate of 
 six lines a day. His courage did not fail, and after 
 three years of intermittent labor the completed 
 work was offered to the public (1851). 
 
 With wise appreciation of his own powers and 
 of the limitations under which he labored he had 
 tried his hand on an episode of his main theme, 
 the final struggle of the Indian, after the collapse 
 of the power of France, to roll back the advancing 
 tide of English civilization. The story of Pontiac 
 required neither the mass of reading nor the critical 
 insight and ripened judgment which the later works 
 demanded. On the other hand, the range of action 
 from Philadelphia to Mackinac, the varied scenes 
 of frontier life and warfare, gave an am^ple canvas 
 for vivid description, stamped with the fresh im- 
 pressions of his western travels and recent sojourn 
 
XI V INTR OD UCTION. 
 
 among the Sioux. In the earher chapters, as an 
 introduction to his subject, he takes a broad survey 
 of the whole history of New France, sketching in 
 outhne what was to be his hfe-work. 
 
 In the thirteen years that follow he labored on 
 under the same cruel shackles, varying severer 
 studies by gardening and by writing his only novel, 
 Vassal Morion (1856). Of Vassal Morto7i it is suf- 
 ficient to say that its chief importance to-day lies 
 in its reflection of Parkman's character. In parts 
 it is a thinly disguised self-portrait. Parkman 
 mentions in several of his prefaces his disabilities 
 in a purely objective way, just as he recorded the 
 other conditions of his work ; in the narratives 
 there is, however, no odor of the sick-room, no 
 feebleness, the artist's all-embracing memory and 
 constructive imagination transport him to the woods, 
 and the strain of the effort is betrayed only by a 
 certain tenseness of style, but in Vassal Morion 
 he let himself out, and, under the mask of Morton's 
 agony in his dungeon, his own sufferings are re- 
 vealed. 
 
 The novel is full of sharply drawn portraits, vivid 
 descriptions of nature, and life-like pictures of man- 
 ners. It is a little melodramatic in plot, rather too 
 brilliant in conversation, and unreal at critical junc- 
 tures, but it is interesting and hardly deserves ob- 
 livion. Parkman did not include it in his works, 
 and is said not to have liked to hear it mentioned. 
 One cannot help feehng that as he attained distinc- 
 tion he felt a certain shame at having betrayed his 
 feelings, even in that indirect fashion, and recov- 
 ered his consistency of stoicism by ignoring this 
 single lapse. 
 
 In the Introduction to 77^<? Pio7icers of France in 
 the New World (1865) Parkman announces his plan 
 of a series to be devoted to ' ' the attempt of Feudal- 
 
INTR OD UC TION. XV 
 
 ism, Monarchy, and Rome to master a continent, 
 where, at this hour, half a million bayonets are vin- 
 dicating the ascendency of a regulated freedom." 
 After contrasting in a few paragraphs of compressed 
 but richly colored description the contending civ- 
 ilizations, he declares the method of historical com- 
 position which he has adopted : his aim ' ' was, 
 while scrupulously and rigorously adhering to the 
 truth of facts, to animate them with the life of the 
 past, and so far as might be, clothe the skeleton 
 with flesh. Faithfulness to the truth of history in- 
 volves far more than a research, however patient 
 and scrupulous, into special facts. The narrator 
 must seek to imbue himself with the life and spirit 
 of the time. He must study events in their bear- 
 ings near and remote ; in the character, habits, and 
 manners of those who took part in them. He must 
 be, as it were, a sharer or a spectator of the action 
 he describes." 
 
 In rapid succession, following The Pioiieers, came 
 The Jesuits, in 1867 ; The Discovery of the Great 
 West, in 1869 ; The Old Regime in Canada, in 
 1874; Frontenac, in 1877; Montcalm and Wolfe, 
 in two volumes, in 1884 ; and A Half Centtiry of 
 Conflict, also in two volumes, in 1892. 
 
 In addition to these labors, no mean achievement 
 for the most vigorous and unhampered mind. Park- 
 man found time to write a considerable body of 
 magazine articles and reviews, to revise in suc- 
 cession the earlier volumes of the series, and in the 
 case of The Discovery of the Great West, to recon- 
 struct the work in the light of the abundant ma- 
 terials on La Salle which were inaccessible to him 
 when it was originally written. 
 
 A detailed criticism of these works will hardly be 
 expected in this place, yet something may well be 
 said as to their range and distinctive features. 
 
XVI INTR OD UCTION. 
 
 Some of the volumes, owing to the nature of the 
 subject, are rather a collection of detached narra- 
 tives than a connected story. In The Pionec?-s, for 
 example, the two main themes are the rivalry of the 
 French and Spaniards for Florida, and the explora- 
 tions of Champlain, but both parts are appropriately 
 introduced by vivid sketches of earlier voyages and 
 explorations, such as those of de Soto and Verra- 
 zano. To The Jesuits is prefixed a compact mono- 
 graph on the Algonquin Indians, which saves the 
 narratives in the main body of the work from being 
 overloaded with explanatory comment. Most varied 
 of all is The Half Coitury of Conflict, in which the 
 reader ranges from Maine to Louisiana, and to the 
 exploration of the western prairies. It is in these 
 last volumes, in those on Montcalm and Wolfe and 
 in Frontenac, that the history of the English Colo- 
 nies comes in for special consideration. 
 
 Parkman belonged to the narrative school of his- 
 torians, and chose to picture the past rather than to 
 reason about it. In his conception of the great 
 drama of two rival and diverse civilizations contend- 
 ing for the mastery of the New World, in his near- 
 ness to the action, and his personal exploration of 
 the scene, and not least in the varied charm of his 
 story, Parkman is the Herodotus of our Western 
 World. 
 
 Yet he does not altogether refrain from drawing 
 the lesson for the politician or renounce philosophiz- 
 ing, and in one of his volumes. The Old Regime ifi 
 Canada, he has produced an admirable piece of in- 
 stitutional or social history, an examination, as he 
 called it, of ' ' the political and social machine, 
 which is a fit counterpart and supplement to de 
 Tocqueville's Ancie7i Regime en France. 
 
 The most distinctive quality of Parkman' s narra- 
 tives is picturesqueness. The action is set in a scene 
 
INTRODUCTION. xvii 
 
 artistically reproduced from the author's careful 
 observation. Knowing his human agents from per- 
 sonal study of the type as well as of their literary 
 memorials, sensitive to all the varied aspects of 
 nature, and familiar with each locality, he visualizes 
 the whole action with extraordinary vividness. It 
 passes his eyes like a panorama. The natural scene 
 plays no such part in any other historical writer, 
 and the search for such exquisite pictures of wild 
 nature in America as abound in his pages w^ould not 
 be an easy one even in our voluminous literature of 
 outdoor life and nature-study. In illustration of 
 this artistic gift his descriptions of such widely 
 diverse scenes as a southern swamp, a prairie-river 
 in summer-time, or a Canadian winter may be given. 
 The first two are from The Pionco's ; the last, from 
 La Salle . ' ' The deep swamp, where, out of the 
 black and root-encumbered slough, rise the hu^e 
 buttressed trunks of the southern cypress, the gray 
 Spanish moss drooping from every bough and twig, 
 wrapping its victims like a drapery of tattered cob- 
 webs, and slowly draining away their life ; for even 
 plants devour each other, and play their silent parts 
 m the universal tragedy of nature." "Here the 
 self-exiled company were soon besieged by the 
 rigors of the Canadian winter. The rocks, the 
 shores, the pine trees, the solid floor of the frozen 
 nver, all alike were blanketed in snow, beneath the 
 keen, cold rays of the dazzling sun. " " They glided 
 calmly down the tranquil stream. At night, the 
 bivouac, the canoes inverted on the bank, the flicker- 
 mg fire, the meal of bison-flesh or venison, the 
 evening pipes, and slumber beneath the stars ;' and 
 when m the morning they embarked again, the mist 
 hung on the river like a bridal veil ; then melted 
 before the sun, till the glassy v.ater and the languid 
 woods basked breathless in the sultry glare. ' ' 
 
XVm INTRODUCTION. 
 
 To the study of human character and motives 
 Parkman was drawn from his youth, and his pages 
 are filled with sketches and portraits into the com- 
 position of which went not only general knowledge 
 of human nature, but intimate knowledge of the 
 individual, obtained by entering into his life and 
 looking out upon the world with his eyes. That he 
 achieved high success in delineating types of charac- 
 ter and ideals far different from his own is evinced 
 by the number of French Canadian scholars and 
 Catholics that he numbered among his friends and 
 admirers. Not that they were wholly satisfied with 
 the story of the long effort to plant a new France in 
 North America, orthodox and loyal, that came from 
 the clear-headed New Englander, the Puritan 
 rationalist, and aristocratic republican, for types of 
 men so divergent cannot write each other's history 
 altogether acceptably ; but to win each other's 
 respect and to spur each other on in the noble race 
 for truth was no mean achievement. 
 
 In England Parkman is not infrequently accorded 
 the first place among American historical writers 
 for his rare combination of exact research with a 
 narrative style so full of life and poetic beauty. On 
 the Continent, however, owing, no doubt, to the 
 remoteness of his theme, and to the fact that 
 Frenchmen could hardly be expected to find in the 
 story of failure and loss the same interest that the 
 story of triumph inspires in the Englishman, Park- 
 man has never attained the popularity which came 
 to Irving, Prescott, Bancroft, and Motley. Only 
 The Pioiicos and The Jesuits have been translated 
 into French, and only these two and The Old 
 Regime into German. 
 
 It is perhaps too soon to attempt an estimate of 
 the probable permanence of Parkman' s fame, yet 
 one or two factors in the problem may be indicated. 
 
INTR OD UC TION. XIX 
 
 The breadth of his preparation, his occasional 
 preservation of oral tradition, his personal knowl- 
 edge of wild life and the American Indian, such as 
 no successor can ever obtain, will always give his 
 narratives in some measure the character of sources. 
 The development of the science of ethnology, for 
 example, has antiquated Prescott's Mexico and 
 Peru, except as a charming reproduction of the 
 impressions and exaggeration of the Spanish his- 
 torians of the Conquest ; but Parkman grew up 
 with the scientific study of American ethnology, 
 was one of its promoters, and its results are in 
 large measure embodied in his work. Making as 
 conscientious an effort as ever historian did by 
 means of documents to understand and reclothe the 
 past with the habiliments of life, his success will 
 prove of a more permanent kind than that of 
 Motley or Prescott, because of his completer equip- 
 ment for a realistic grasp of that past which he was 
 so near and which he caught as it faded away for- 
 ever. Finally, with the growth of Canada and of 
 the west, the number of people for whom Park- 
 man's histories are the epic of the founders of the 
 State is ever increasing. 
 
 It is hardly rash, then, in view of these consider- 
 ations and of the rare and varied charm of his 
 narrative to conclude that for a far longer period 
 than is likely to be the fortune of Prescott, Motley, 
 or Bancroft, the work of Francis Parkman will be 
 proof 
 
 " 'gainst the tooth of time 
 And razure of oblivion. *^' 
 
 Edward Gaylord Bourne. 
 
THE CALIFORNIA 
 AND OREGON TRAIL. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 THE FRONTIER. 
 
 " Away, away from men and towns 
 To the silent wilderness."— SHELLEY, 
 
 Last 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 ready their wagons and outfits 
 for Santa Fe. Many of the emigrants, especially 
 of those bound for California, were persons of 
 wealth and standing. The hotels were crowded, 
 and the gunsmiths and saddlers were kept con- 
 stantly at work in providing arms and equipments 
 for the different parties of travellers. Almost every 
 day steamboats 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 A. Shaw, 
 and myself, left St. Louis on the twenty-eighth 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 
 
 1 
 
2 THE OREGON TRAIL. 
 
 upper deck was covered with large wagons of a 
 peculiar form, for the Santa Fe 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 multi- 
 tude of nondescript articles, indispensable on the 
 prairies. Almost hidden in this medley one might 
 have seen 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 persever- 
 ing reader will accompany it. 
 
 The passengers on board the "Radnor" corre- 
 sponded with her freight. In her cabin were Santa 
 Fe traders, gamblers, speculators, and adventurers 
 of various descriptions, and her steerage was crowded 
 with Oregon emigrants, "mountain men," negroes, 
 and a party of Kansas Indians, who had been on a 
 visit to St. Louis. 
 
 Thus laden, the boat struggled upward for seven or 
 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 shifting con- 
 tinually. Islands are formed, and then washed 
 away ; and while the old forests on one side are un- 
 dermined and swept off, a young growth springs up 
 
THE FRONTIER. 3 
 
 from the new soil upon the other. With all these 
 changes, the water is so charged with mud and sand 
 that it is perfectly opaque, and in a few minutes 
 deposits a sediment an inch thick in the bottom 
 of a tumbler. The river was now high ; but when 
 we descended in the autumn it was fallen very low, 
 and all the secrets of its treacherous shallows were 
 exposed to view. It was frightful to see the dead 
 and broken trees, thick-set as a military abattis, 
 firmly imbedded in the sand, and all pointing down 
 stream, ready to impale any unhappy steamboat 
 that at high water should pass over that dangerous 
 ground. 
 
 In five or six days we began to see signs of the 
 great western movement that was then taking 
 place. Parties of emigrants, with their tents and 
 wagons, would be encamped on open spots near 
 the bank, on their way to the common rendezvous 
 at Independence. On a rainy day, near sunset, we 
 reached the landing of this place, which is situated 
 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. In 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 with rifles lying 
 across their knees. The foremost of these, a tall, 
 strong figure, with a clear blue eye and an open, in- 
 
4 THE OREGON TRAIL. 
 
 telligent 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 the great plains. 
 
 Early on the next morning we reached Kansas, 
 about five hundred miles from the mouth of the 
 Missouri. Here we landed, and leaving our equip- 
 ments in charge of my good friend Colonel Chick, 
 whose log-house was the substitute for a tavern, 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 rich and luxuriant 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 Kansas 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 feature in the forest landscape. 
 
 Westport was full of Indians, whose little shaggy 
 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 Kansas, 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 re- 
 markable looking person 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 laborers sometimes wear ; his coat 
 
THE FRONTIER. 5 
 
 was of a nondescript form, and made of a gray 
 Scotch plaid, with the fringes hanging all about it ; 
 he wore pantaloons 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 Enghsh 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 time at Westport, 
 making preparations for their departure, and wait- 
 ing for a reinforcement, since they were too few in 
 niTmber 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 
 California ; but they professed great disinclination 
 to have any connection with the ' ' Kentucky fel- 
 lows." 
 
 The Captain now urged it upon us that we should 
 join forces and proceed to the mountains in com- 
 pany. FeeUng no greater partiality for the society 
 of the emigrants than they did, we thought the 
 arrangement an advantageous one, and consented 
 to it. Our future fellow-travellers had installed 
 themselves in a little log-house, where we found 
 them all surrounded by saddles, harness, guns, 
 pistols, telescopes, knives, and in short, their com- 
 plete appointments for the prairie. R., who pro- 
 fessed a taste for natural history, sat at a table stuff- 
 ing a woodpecker ; the brother of the Captain, who 
 was an Irishman, was splicing a trail-rope on the 
 floor, as he had been an amateur sailor. The Cap- 
 tain pointed out, with much complacency, the dif- 
 ferent 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 pro- 
 
6 THE OREGON TRAIL. 
 
 vided." The hunter whom they had employed,'a 
 suriy looking Canadian, named Sorel, and their 
 muleteer, an American from St. Louis, were loung- 
 ing about the building. In a little log-stable close 
 at hand were their horses and mules, selected by 
 the Captain, who was an excellent judge. 
 
 The alliance entered into, we left them to com- 
 plete 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 them. They were in great confusion, holding 
 meetings, passing resolutions, and drawing up regu- 
 lations, 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 in- 
 cessant 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 
 multitude of healthy children's faces were peeping 
 out from under the covers of the wagons. Here 
 and there a buxom dam.sel 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 countr^^men, 
 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 doctrine of 
 
THE FRONTIER. 7 
 
 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 im- 
 pulse to this strange migration ; but whatever they 
 may be, whether an insane hope of a better con- 
 dition in life, or a desire of shaking off restraints of 
 law and society, or mere restlessness, certain it is 
 that multitudes bitterly repent the journey, 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 near to a close. Mean- 
 while our friends had completed theirs, and becom- 
 ing tired of Westport, they told us that they would 
 set out in advance, and wait at the crossing of the 
 Kansas 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 Captain was scarcely a mile from Westport, 
 riding along in state at the head of his party, lead- 
 ing 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 off, where R. was to have 
 had the camp in readiness to receive them. But 
 this prudent person, when he saw the storm ap- 
 proaching, had selected a sheltered glade in the 
 woods, where he pitched his tent, and was sipping 
 a comfortable cup of coffee while the Captain gal- 
 loped 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 
 
8 THE OREGON TRAIL. 
 
 was seated on a buffalo-robe smoking his pipe. The 
 Captain was one of the most easy-tempered men in 
 existence, so he bore his ill luck with great com- 
 posure, shared the dregs of the coffee with his 
 brother, and laid down to sleep in his wet clothes. 
 
 We ourselves had our share of the deluge. We 
 were leading a pair of mules to Kansas when the 
 storm broke. Such sharp and incessant flashes of 
 lightning, such stunning and continuous thunder, I 
 had never known before. The woods were com- 
 pletely obscured by the diagonal sheets of rain that 
 fell with a heavy roar, and rose in spray from the 
 ground ; and the streams rose so rapidly that we 
 could hardly ford them. At length, looming through 
 the rain, we saw the log-house of Colonel Chick, 
 who received us with his usual bland hospitality ; 
 while his wife, who, though a little soured and 
 stiffened by too frequent attendance on camp-meet- 
 ings, was not behind him in hospitable feeling, sup- 
 plied us with the means of repairing our drenched 
 and bedraggled condition. The stonn 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 immense expanse of luxuriant forest that 
 stretched from its banks back to the distant bluffs. 
 
 Returning on the next day to Westport, we re- 
 ceived a message from the Captain, who had ridden 
 back to deliver it in person, but finding that we 
 were in Kansas, had intrusted it with an acquaint- 
 ance of his named Vogel, who kept a small grocery 
 and liquor shop. Whiskey, by the way, circulates 
 more freely in Westport than is altogether 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 and knavish -looking 
 
THE FRONTIER. 9 
 
 eyes thrust from his door. He said he had some- 
 thing to tell us, and invited us to take a dram. 
 Neither his liquor nor his message was very pala- 
 table. 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, 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 
 very high-handed proceeding ; but, suppressing our 
 dissatisfaction as well as we could, we made up our 
 minds to join them at Fort Leavenworth, where they 
 were to wait for us. 
 
 Accordingly, our preparations being now com- 
 plete, we attempted one fine morning to commence 
 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 en- 
 countered 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. 
 
 " Though sluggards deem it but a foolish chase, 
 And marvel men should quit their easy chair, 
 The weary way and long, long league to trace ; 
 
 Oh there is sweetness in the prairie air, 
 And life that bloated ease can never hope to share." 
 
 Childe Harolde. 
 
 Both Shaw and myself were tolerably inured to 
 the vicissitudes of travelling. We had experienced 
 them under various forms, and a birch canoe was as 
 familiar to us as a steamboat. The restlessness, the 
 love of wilds and hatred of cities, natural perhaps in 
 early years to every unperverted son of Adam, was 
 not our only motive for undertaking the present jour- 
 ney. My companion hoped to shake off the effects 
 of a disorder that had impaired a constitution origi- 
 nally hardy and robust ; and I was anxious to pursue 
 some inquiries relative to the character and usages 
 of the remote Indian nations, being already familiar 
 with many of the border tribes. 
 
 Emerging from the mud-hole where we last took 
 leave of the reader, we pursued our way for some 
 time along the narrow track, in the checkered sun- 
 shine and shadow of the woods, till at length, issuing 
 forth into the broad light, we left behind us the far- 
 thest outskirts of that great forest that once spread 
 unbroken from the western plains to the shore of 
 the Atlantic. Looking over an intervening belt of 
 shrubbery we saw the green, ocean-like expanse 
 of prairie, stretching swell over 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 
 10 
 
BREAKING THE ICE. II 
 
 gain the ascendency. I rode in advance of the 
 party as we passed through the shrubbery, 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 budding into fresh leaf ; 
 the red clusters of the maple-blossoms 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 from 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, moccasons, and 
 pantaloons 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 his 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 resem- 
 bled 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 it, and the trail-rope 
 attached to his horse's neck hanging coiled in front. 
 He carried a double-barrelled smooth-bore, while I 
 boasted 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 favor- 
 able contrast to the inimitable shabbiness of our 
 appearance on the return journey. A red flannel 
 shirt, belted around the waist like a frock, then con- 
 stituted our upper garment ; moccasons had sup- 
 
12 THE OREGON TRAIL. 
 
 planted our failing boots ; and the remaining essen- 
 tial portion of our attire consisted of an extraordi- 
 nary article, manufactured by a squaw out of smoked 
 buckskin. Our muleteer, Delorier, brought up the 
 rear with his cart, wading ankle-deep in the mud, 
 alternately puffing at his pipe, and ejaculating in 
 his prairie patois : " Sacre enfant de garce T' 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 
 in Montreal, and had a white covering to protect 
 the articles within. These were our provisions and 
 a tent, with ammunition, blankets, and presents for 
 the Indians. 
 
 We were in all four men with eight animals ; for 
 besides the spare horses led by Shaw and myself, 
 an additional 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 the characters of the two men 
 who accompanied us. 
 
 Delorier was a Canadian, with all the character- 
 istics of the true Jean Baptiste. Neither fatigue, 
 exposure, nor hard labor could ever impair his 
 cheerfulness and gayety, or his obsequious polite- 
 ness to his bourgeois ; and when night came he 
 would sit dov;n by the fire, smoke his pipe, and tell 
 stories with the utmost contentment. In fact, the 
 prairie was his congenial element. Henry Chatillon 
 was of a different stamp. When we were at St. 
 Louis, several of the gentlemen of the Fur Com- 
 pany had kindly offered to procure for us a hunter 
 and guide suited for our purposes, and on coming 
 one afternoon to the office, 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 
 
BREAKING THE ICE, 1 3 
 
 wished to guide us to the mountains. He was born 
 in a httle French town near St. Louis, and from the 
 age of fifteen years had been constantly in the 
 neighborhood of the Rocky Mountains, employed 
 for the most part by the company, to supply their 
 forts with buffalo -meat. As a hunter, he had but 
 one rival in the whole region, a man named Cimo- 
 neau, 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 moun- 
 tains, where he had remained for four years ; and 
 he now only asked to go and spend a day with his 
 mother before setting out on another 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 
 nor write, but he had a natural refinement and deli- 
 cacy of mind, such as is very rarely found even in 
 women. His manly face was a perfect mirror of 
 uprightness, simplicity, 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. Henry 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 impelling him to 
 give away too profusely ever to thrive in the world. 
 Yet it was commonly remarked of him that what- 
 ever 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 charac- 
 teristic of him that in a country where the rifle is 
 the chief arbiter between man and man, Henry was 
 very seldom involved in quarrels. Once or twice, 
 indeed, his quiet good nature had been mistaken 
 and presumed upon, but the consequences of the 
 
14 THE OREGON TRAIL. 
 
 error were so formidable that no one was ever 
 known to repeat it. No better evidence of the in- 
 trepidity of his temper could be wished 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 
 noble and true-hearted friend, Henry Chatillon. 
 
 We were soon free of the woods and bushes, and 
 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 handkerchief bound around 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 encamp- 
 ment at the place, and the framework of their lodges 
 still remained, enabling us very easily to gain a 
 shelter from the sun by merely spreading one or 
 two blankets over them. Thus shaded, we sat upon 
 our saddles, and Shaw for the first time lighted his 
 favorite Indian pipe ; while Delorier was squatted 
 over a hot bed of coals, shading his eyes with one 
 hand, and holding a little stick in the other with 
 which he regulated the hissing contents of the fry- 
 ing-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 yisitor ap- 
 proached. This was an old Kansas Indi m ; 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 rattle- 
 
BREAKING THE ICE. 1 5 
 
 snakes. His cheeks, too, were daubed with ver- 
 milion ; his ears were adorned with green glass 
 pendants ; a collar of grizzly bears' claws sur- 
 rounded his neck, and several large necklaces of 
 wampum hung on his breast. Having shaken us 
 by the hand with a cordial grunt of salutation, the 
 old man, dropping his red blanket from his shoul- 
 ders, sat down cross-legged on the ground. In the 
 absence of liquor, we offered him a cup of sweet- 
 ened 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 sud- 
 denly a motley concourse appeared wading across 
 the creek toward us. They filed past in rapid suc- 
 cession, men, women, and children : some were on 
 horseback, some on foot, but all were alike squahd 
 and wretched. Old squaws, mounted astride of 
 shaggy, meagre little ponies, with perhaps one or 
 two snake-eyed children seated behind them, cling- 
 ing to their tattered blankets ; tall, lank young men 
 on foot, with bows and arrows in their hands ; and 
 girls whose native ughness 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 Kansas 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 journev. Fording the creek, the low roofs of a 
 number of i/ude 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 Meth- 
 
1 6 THE OREGON TRAIL. 
 
 odist Shawanoe Mission. The Indians were on the 
 point of gathering to a rehgious 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, was just arrived from Westport, where he 
 owns a trading establishment. Besides this, he has 
 a fine farm and a considerable 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 Kansas. 
 
 A few hours' ride brought us to the banks of the 
 river Kansas. Traversing the woods that lined it, 
 and ploughing through the deep sand, we encamped 
 not far from the bank, at the Lower Delaware cross- 
 ing. Our tent was erected for the first time on a 
 meadow close to the woods, and the camp prepa- 
 rations being complete, we began to think of sup- 
 per. An old Delaware woman, of some three hun- 
 dred 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 flutter- 
 ing 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 furnish us any- 
 thing. A multitude of quails were plaintively whist- 
 ling in the woods and meadows ; but nothing appro- 
 priate to the rifle was to be seen, except three buz- 
 zards, 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. 
 
BREAKING THE ICE. 1 7 
 
 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 ad- 
 miring the calm beauty of the sunset, for the river, 
 eddying swiftly in deep purple shadows between the 
 impending woods, formed a wild but tranquilhzing 
 scene. 
 
 When I returned to the camp I found Shaw and 
 an old Indian seated on the ground in close con- 
 ference, passing the pipe between them. The old 
 man was explaining that he loved the whites, and 
 had an especial partiality for tobacco. Delorier was 
 arranging upon the ground our service of tin cups 
 and plates ; and as other viands were not to be had, 
 he set before us a repast of biscuit and bacon, and 
 a large pot of coffee. Unsheathing our knives, 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 dis- 
 gust and astonishment. They seemed by no means 
 to relish this foretaste of what was before them. 
 Mine, in particular, had conceived a mortal aversion 
 to the prairie hfe. One of them, christened Hen- 
 drick, 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 medi- 
 tated 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. Poor Pontiac ! 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. 
 
1 8 THE OREGON TRAIL. 
 
 As it grew dark, and the voices of the whippoor- 
 wills succeeded the whistle of the quails, we re- 
 moved 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 Delorier, 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 Kansas at this point forms the boun- 
 dary-line between the country of the Shawanoes and 
 that of the Delawares. We crossed it on the fol- 
 lowing day, rafting over our horses and equipage 
 with much difficulty, and unloading 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 dilapidated entrance of some shattered 
 log-house, an old woman might be discerned enjoy- 
 ing 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 little 
 New England village among the mountains of New 
 Hampshire or the Vermont woods. 
 
 Having at present no leisure for such reflections, 
 we pursued our journey. A military road led from 
 this point to Fort Leavenworth, and for many miles 
 the farms and cabins of the Delawares were scat- 
 tered at short intervals on either hand. The little 
 rude structures of logs, erected usually on the bor- 
 ders of a tract of woods, made a picturesque feature 
 
BREAKING THE ICE. 1 9 
 
 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 and luxuriance. The 
 woods were flushed with the red buds of the maple ; 
 there were frequent flowering shrubs unknown in 
 the east ; and the green swells of the prairie were 
 thickly studded with blossoms. 
 
 Encamping near a spring, by the side of a hill, 
 we resumed our journey in the morning, and early 
 in the afternoon had arrived 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 below, and 
 coming up the steep ascent toward us. We stopped 
 to let them pass. They were Delawares, just re- 
 turned from a hunting expedition. All, both men 
 and women, were mounted on horseback, and drove 
 along with them 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 
 aspect, 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 little tough, shaggy pony, with mane and tail 
 well knotted with burs, and a rusty Spanish bit in 
 its mouth, to v/hich, by way of reins, was attached 
 a string of raw hide. His saddle, robbed probably 
 from a Mexican, had no covering, being merely a 
 
20 THE OREGON TRAIL. 
 
 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 leggings, was well polished 
 and blackened by grease and long service ; and an 
 old handkerchief was tied around his head. Rest- 
 ing on the saddle before him lay his rifle, a weapon 
 in the use of which the Delawares are skilful, 
 though, 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 Dela- 
 ware fixed his eyes intently upon us for a moment, 
 and then sententiously remarked : 
 
 " No good ! Too young !" With this flattering 
 comment 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 un- 
 known to their fathers in their ancient seats in 
 Pennsylvania ; and they push these new quarrels 
 with true Indian rancor, sending out their little war- 
 parties as far as the Rocky Mountains, and into the 
 Mexican territories. Their neighbors and former 
 confederates, the Shawanoes, who are tolerable farm- 
 ers, are in a prosperous condition ; but the Dela- 
 wares dwindle every year from the number of men 
 lost in their warlike expeditions. 
 
 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 
 
FOR T LEA VENWOR TH. 2 1 
 
 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 Missouri, and 
 upon this, close to a line of trees that bordered a 
 little brook, stood the tent of the Captain and his 
 companions, 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 clean- 
 ing his rifle at the door of the tent, and Sorel 
 lounged idly about. On closer examination, how- 
 ever, we discovered the Captain' s brother, Jack, sit- 
 ting in the tent, at his old occupation of spHcing 
 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 sunset. Meanwhile we erected 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 on fire. 
 
 CHAPTER in. 
 
 FORT LEAVENWORTH. 
 
 " I've wandered wide and wandered far. 
 But never have I met, 
 In all this lovely western land, 
 
 A spot more lovely yet." — BRYANT. 
 
 On the next morning we rode to Fort Leaven- 
 worth. Colonel (now General) Kearney, to whom 
 
22 THE OREGON TRAIL. 
 
 I had had the honor of an introduction when at St. 
 Louis, was just arrived, and received us at his quar- 
 ters with the high-bred 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 pass- 
 ing and repassing, or lounging among the trees ; 
 although not many weeks afterward it presented a 
 different scene ; for here the very offscourings of 
 the frontier were congregated, to be marshalled for 
 the expedition against Santa Fe. 
 
 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 high bluffs that border the Mis- 
 souri ; and by looking to the right or to the left we 
 could enjoy a strange contrast of opposite 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 horizon, were often surmounted by lines 
 of sunny v/oods ; a scene to which the freshness of 
 the season and the peculiar mellowness of the 
 atmosphere gave additional softness. Below us, on 
 the right, was a tract of ragged and broken woods. 
 We could look down on the summits of the trees, 
 some living and some dead ; some erect, others 
 leaning at every angle, and others still 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 declivities 
 on its farther bank. 
 
 The path soon after led inland ; and as we crossed 
 
FOR T LEA VENWOR TH. 2 3 
 
 an open meadow we saw a cluster of buildings on a 
 rising ground before us, with a crowd of people sur- 
 rounding them. They were the storehouse, cottage, 
 and stables of the Kickapoo trader's establishment. 
 Just at that mom.ent, as it chanced, he was beset 
 with half the Indians of the settlement. They had 
 tied their wretched, neglected little ponies by dozens 
 along the fences and out-houses, and were either 
 lounging about the place or crowding into the trad- 
 ing-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 suspicious customers, who, men and women, 
 were climbing on his counter and seating them- 
 selves among his boxes and bales. 
 
 The village itself was not far off, and sufficiently 
 illustrated the condition of its unfortunate and self- 
 abandoned occupants. Fancy to yourself a little 
 swift stream, working its devious way down a woody 
 valley ; sometimes wholly hidden under logs and 
 fallen trees, sometimes issuing forth and spreading 
 into a broad, clear pool ; and on its banks, in little 
 nooks cleared away among the trees, miniature log- 
 houses in utter ruin and neglect. A labyrinth of 
 narrow, obstructed paths connected these habitations 
 one with another. 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 pukwi lodges of 
 
24 THE OREGON TRAIL. 
 
 their neighbors, the Pottawattamies, whose condition 
 seemed no better than theirs. 
 
 Growing tired at last, and exhausted by the ex- 
 cessive heat and suhriness of the day, we returned 
 to our friend, the trader. By this time the crowd 
 around him had dispersed 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 furnished in a 
 manner that we hardly expected on the frontier. 
 The sofas, chairs, tables, and a well-filled book- 
 case would not have disgraced an eastern city ; 
 though there were one or two little tokens that indi- 
 cated the rather questionable civilization of the 
 region. A pistol, loaded and capped, lay on the 
 mantel-piece ; and through the glass of the book- 
 case, peeping above the works of John Milton, 
 glittered the handle of a veiy mischievous-looking 
 knife. 
 
 Our host went out, and returned with iced water, 
 glasses, and a bottle of excellent claret ; a refresh- 
 ment most welcome in the extreme heat of the day ; 
 and soon after appeared a merry, laughing woman, 
 who must have been, a year or two before, a very 
 rich and luxuriant specimen of Creole beauty. She 
 came to say that lunch was ready in the next room. 
 Our hostess evidently lived on the sunny 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 
 
''JUMPING off:' 25 
 
 call upon Colonel Kearney. I found him still at 
 table. There sat our friend the Captain, in the 
 same remarkable habiliments in which we saw him 
 at Westport ; the black pipe, however, being for 
 the present laid aside. He dangled his 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 ele- 
 gantly attired. For the last time we tasted the lux- 
 uries of civilization, and drank adieus to it in wine 
 good enough to make us almost regret the leave- 
 taking. Then, mounting, we rode together to the 
 camp, where ever^'thing was in readiness for depart- 
 ure on the morrow. 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 "jumping off." 
 
 " We forded the river and clomb the high hill, 
 Never our steeds for a day stood still ; 
 Whether we lay in the cave or the shed, 
 Our sleep fell soft on the hardest bed ; 
 Whether we couched in our rough capote, 
 On the rougher plank of our gliding boat, 
 Or stretched on the sand, or our saddles spread 
 As a pillow beneath the resting head, 
 Fresh we woke upon the morrow ; 
 All our thoughts and words had scope. 
 We had health and we had hope, 
 Toil and travel, but no sorrow." 
 
 Siege of Corinth. 
 
 The reader need not be told that John Bull never 
 leaves home without encumbering himself with the 
 greatest possible load of luggage. Our companions 
 were no exception to the rule. They had a wagon 
 drawn by six mules, and crammed with provisions 
 
26 THE OREGON TRAIL. 
 
 for six months, besides ammimition enough for a 
 regiment ; spare rifles and fowling-pieces, ropes and 
 harness ; personal baggage, and a miscellaneous 
 assortment of articles, which produced infinite em- 
 barrassment on the journey. They had also deco- 
 rated their persons with telescopes and portable 
 compasses, and carried English double-barrelled 
 rifles of sixteen to the pound calibre, slung to their 
 saddles dragoon fashion. 
 
 By sunrise on the twenty-third of May we had 
 breakfasted ; the tents were levelled, the animals 
 saddled and harnessed, and all was prepared. 
 " Ava7ice done ! get up !" cried Delorier from his 
 seat in front of the cart. Wright, our friends' 
 muleteer, after some swearing and lashing, got his 
 insubordinate 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 Black- 
 stone' s Commentaries. The day was a most auspi- 
 cious one ; and yet Shaw and I felt certain misgiv- 
 ings, which in the secjuel proved but too well 
 founded. We had just learned that though R. had 
 taken it upon him to adopt this course v/ithout con- 
 sulting us, not a single man in the party was ac- 
 quainted with it ; and the absurdity of our friend' s 
 high-handed measure very soon became manifest. 
 His plan was to strike the trail of several companies 
 of dragoons, who last summer had made an expe- 
 dition under Colonel Kearney to Fort Laramie, and 
 by this means to reach the grand trail of the Oregon 
 emigrants up the Platte. 
 
 We rode for an hour or two, when a familiar 
 cluster of buildings appeared on a little hill. 
 " Halloo !" shouted the Kickapoo trader from over 
 his fence, ' ' where are you going ?' ' A few rather 
 emphatic exclamations mJght have been heard 
 among us when we found that we had gone miles 
 
''JUMPING off:' 27 
 
 out of our way, and were not advanced an inch to- 
 ward the Rocky Mountains. So we turned in the 
 direction the trader indicated ; and, with the sun for 
 a guide, began to trace a " bee-hne " across the 
 prairies. We struggled through copses and hues of 
 wood ; we waded brooks and pools of water ; we 
 traversed prairies as green as an emerald, expand- 
 ing before us for mile after mile ; wider and more 
 wild than the wastes Mazeppa rode over : 
 
 " Man nor brute, 
 Nor dint of hoof, 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 scat- 
 tered 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 Captain. 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 someAvhat improved ; and toward 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 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 to- 
 tally, and a fresh damp smell in the wind warned us 
 that a stormy night was likely to succeed the 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 hobbhng the 
 horses among the rich grass at the foot of the slope 
 
28 THE OREGON TRAIL. 
 
 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 ex- 
 trem.e solicitude tormented him, lest some of his 
 favorites should escape or some accident should 
 befall them ; and he cast an anxious eye toward 
 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. Delorier 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. Delorier leaped out knee-deep in water, 
 and by dint of sacres and a vigorous application of 
 the whip, he 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. 
 
 •* 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 contemplative strain to himself. 
 
 " My advice is," resumed the Captain, " that we 
 unload ; for I'll bet any man five 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 head 
 with an air of firm conviction. 
 
''JUMPING off:' 29 
 
 "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 confederates, ' ' I can only give my ad- 
 vice, 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 Delorier, sounded like the roaring 
 of heavy cannon after the popping and sputtering of 
 a bunch of Chinese crackers. 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 moment the issue 
 was dubious. Wright writhed about in his saddle 
 and swore and lashed like a madman ; but who can 
 count on a team of half-broken mules ? At the 
 most critical point, when all should have been har- 
 mony and combined effort, the perverse brutes fell 
 into lamentable disorder, and huddled together in 
 confusion on the farther bank. There was the 
 wagon up to the hub in mud and visibly setthng 
 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. This agreeable labor ac- 
 complished, the wagon at length emerged ; but if 
 I mention that some interruption of this sort oc- 
 curred at least four or five times a day for a fort- 
 night, the reader will understand that our progress 
 toward the Platte was not without its obstacles. 
 
 We travelled six or seven miles farther, and 
 "nooned" near a brook. On the point of resum- 
 ing our journey, when the horses were all driven 
 down to water, my homesick charger Pontiac made 
 a sudden leap across, and set off at a round trot for 
 
30 THE OREGON TRAIL. 
 
 the settlements. I mounted my remaining horse, 
 and started in pursuit. Making a circuit, 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 past me again. I tried 
 this plan repeatedly, with the same result : Pontiac 
 was evidently disgusted with the prairie ; so I aban- 
 doned 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 sad- 
 dle startled him ; he pricked up his ears, and sprang 
 off at a run. " My friend," thought I, 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. The 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 to him as possible, taking every pre- 
 caution 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 !" 
 
''JUMPING off:' 31 
 
 I thought, as I remounted. But Pontiac was exceed- 
 ingly rekictant to turn back ; Hendrick, 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 
 cheerfulness ; and dragging the recovered truant 
 behind, I set out in search of the camp. An hour 
 or two elapsed, when, near sunset, I saw the tents, 
 standing on a rich swell of the prairie, beyond a 
 line of woods, while the bands of horses were feed- 
 ing in a low meadow close at hand. There 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 sere- 
 nade 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 perceiv- 
 ing a rifle levelled at him, he leaped up and made 
 off 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 i3e impelled to visit the 
 prairies, and should he choose the route of the 
 Platte (the best, perhaps, that can be adopted), I 
 can assure him that he need not think to enter at 
 once upon the paradise of his imagination. A 
 dreary preliminary, 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 interven- 
 ing country, the wide and fertile belt that extends 
 for several hundred miles beyond the extreme 
 
32 THE OREGON TRAIL. 
 
 frontier, will probably answer tolerably well to his 
 preconceived ideas of the prairie ; for this it is from 
 which picturesque tourists, painters, poets and nov- 
 elists, 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 motionless 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 ; har- 
 ness 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 himself with biscuit and salt pro- 
 visions ; 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 journey 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. 
 
 Yet, to compensate him for this unlooked-for de- 
 ficiency of game, he will find himself beset with 
 "varmints" innumerable. The wolves will enter- 
 tain him with a concerto at night, and skulk around 
 him by day just beyond rifle-shot ; his horse will 
 step into badger-holes ; from every marsh and mud- 
 puddle will arise the bellowing, croaking, and trill- 
 ing of legions of frogs, infinitely various in color, 
 shape, and dimensions. A profusion of snakes will 
 
''JUMPING off:' 33 
 
 glide away from under his horse's feet or quietly 
 visit him in his tent at night ; while the perti- 
 nacious humming of unnumbered mosquitoes will 
 banish sleep from his eyelids. When thirsty with a 
 long ride in the scorching sun over some boundless 
 reach of prairie, he comes at length to a pool of 
 water, and alights to drink, he discovers a troop of 
 young tadpoles sporting in the bottom of his cup. 
 Add to this that all the morning the sun beats upon 
 him with a sultry, penetrating heat, and that, with 
 provoking regularity, at about four o'clock in the 
 afternoon a thunder-storm rises and drenches him 
 to the skin. Such being the charms of this favored 
 region, the reader will easily conceive the extent of 
 our gratification at learning that for a week we had 
 been journeying on the wrong track ! How this 
 agreeable discovery was made I will presently ex- 
 plain. 
 
 One day, after a protracted morning's ride, we 
 stopped to rest at noon upon the open prairie. No 
 trees were in sight ; but close at hand a little drib- 
 bling brook was twisting from side to side through a 
 hollow ; now forming holes of stagnant water, and 
 now gliding over the mud in a scarcely perceptible 
 current, among a growth of sickly bushes and great 
 clumps of tall rank grass. The day was excessively 
 hot and oppressive. The horses and mules were 
 rolling on the prairie to refresh themselves, or feed- 
 ing among the bushes in the hollow. We had 
 dined ; and Delorier, puffing at his pipe, knelt on 
 the grass, scrubbing our service of tin-plate. Shaw 
 lay in the shade, under the cart, to rest for awhile, 
 before the word should be given to "catch up." 
 Henry Chatillon, before lying down, was looking 
 about for signs of snakes, the only living things that 
 he feared, and uttering various ejaculations of dis- 
 gust at finding several suspicious-looking holes close 
 
34 THE OREGON TRAIL. 
 
 to the cart. I sat leaning against the wheel in a 
 scanty strip of shade, making a pair of hobbles to 
 replace those which my contumacious steed Pontiac 
 had broken the night before. The camp of our 
 friends, a rod or two distant, presented the same 
 scene of lazy tranquillity. 
 
 " Halloo !" cried Henry, looking up from his in- 
 spection of the snake-holes, ' ' here comes the old 
 Captain !" 
 
 The Captain approached, and stood for a moment 
 contemplating us in silence. 
 
 "I say, Parkman," he began, "look at Shaw 
 there, asleep under the cart, with the tar dripping 
 off the hub of the wheel on his shoulder !'* 
 
 At this Shaw got up, with his eyes half opened, 
 and feeling the part indicated, he found his hand 
 glued fast to his red flannel shirt. 
 
 " He'll look well, when he gets among the squaws, 
 won't he !" observed the Captain, with a grin. 
 
 He then crawled under the cart, and began to 
 tell stories, of which his stock was inexhaustible. 
 Yet every moment he would glance nervously at the 
 horses. At last he jumped up in great excitement. 
 " See that horse ! There — that fellow just walking 
 over the hill ! By Jove ! he's off. It's your big 
 horse, Shaw ; no it isn't, it's Jack's. Jack ! Jack ! 
 halloo, Jack !" Jack, thus invoked, jumped up and 
 stared vacantly at us. 
 
 " Go and catch your horse, if you don't want to 
 lose him !" roared the Captain. 
 
 Jack instantly set off at a run, through the grass, 
 his broad pantaloons flapping about his feet. The 
 Captain gazed anxiously till he saw that the horse 
 was caught ; then he sat down, with a countenance 
 of thoughtfulness and care. 
 
 " I tell you what it is," he said, "this will never 
 do at all. We shall lose every horse in the band 
 
''JUMPING OFFr 35 
 
 some day or other, and then a pretty plight we 
 should be in ! Now I am convinced that the only 
 way for us is to have every man in the camp stand 
 horse-guard in rotation whenever we stop. Sup- 
 posing a hundred Pawnees should jump up out of 
 that ravine, all yelling and flapping their buffalo- 
 robes, in the way they do ? Why in two minutes 
 not a hoof would be in sight." We reminded the 
 Captain that a hundred Pav/nees would probably 
 demolish the horse-guard if he were to resist their 
 depredations. 
 
 " At any rate," pursued the Captain, evading the 
 point, " our whole system is wrong ; I'm convinced 
 of it ; it is totally unmilitary. Why the way we 
 travel, strung out over the prairie for a mile, an 
 enemy might attack the foremost men and cut them 
 off before the rest could come up." 
 
 "We are not in an enemy's country yet," said 
 Shaw ; ' ' when we are, we' 11 travel together. ' ' 
 
 "Then," said the Captain, " we might be attacked 
 in camp. We've no sentinels ; we camp in dis- 
 order ; no precautions at all to guard against sur- 
 prise. My own convictions are that we ought to 
 camp in a hollow-square, with the fires in the cen- 
 tre ; and have sentinels and a regular passv/ord 
 appointed for every night. Beside, there should be 
 videttes, riding in advance, to find a place for the 
 camp and give warning of an enemy. These are 
 my convictions. I don't want to dictate to any man. 
 I give advice to the best of my judgment, that's all ; 
 and then let people do as they please." 
 
 We intimated that perhaps it would be as well to 
 postpone such burdensome precautions until there 
 should be some actual need of them ; but he shook 
 his head dubiously. The Captain's sense of mili- 
 tary propriety had been severely shocked by what 
 he considered the irregular proceedings of the 
 
36 THE OREGON TRAIL. 
 
 party ; and this was not the first time he had ex- 
 pressed himself upon the subject. But his con- 
 victions seldom produced any practical results. In 
 the present case he contented himself, as usual, with 
 enlarging on the importance of his suggestions and 
 wondering that they were not adopted. But his 
 plan of sending out videttes seemed particularly 
 dear to him ; and as no one else was disposed to 
 second his views on this point, he took it into his 
 head to ride forward that afternoon himself. 
 
 "Come, Parkman," said he, "will you go with 
 me?" 
 
 We set out together, and rode a mile or two in 
 advance. The Captain, in the course of twenty 
 years' service in the British army, had seen some- 
 thing of life ; one extensive side of it, at least, he 
 had enjoyed the best opportunities for studying ; 
 and being naturally a pleasant fellow, he was a very 
 entertaining companion. He cracked jokes and told 
 stories for an hour or two ; until, looking back, we 
 saw the prairie behind us stretching away to the 
 horizon without a horseman or a wagon in sight. 
 
 "Now," said the Captain, "I think the videttes 
 had better stop till the main body comes up." 
 
 I was of the same opinion. There v/as a thick 
 growth of woods just before us with a stream run- 
 ning through them. Having crossed this, we found 
 on the other side a fine level meadow, half encircled 
 by the trees ; and fastening our horses to some 
 bushes, we sat down on the grass ; while, with an 
 old stump of a tree for a target, I began to display 
 the superiority of the renowned rifle of the back- 
 woods over the foreign innovation borne by the Cap- 
 tain. At length voices could be heard in the dis- 
 tance behind the trees. 
 
 "There they come!" said the Captain; "let's 
 go and see how they get through the creek." 
 
''JUMPING OFFr 37 
 
 We mounted and rode to the bank of the stream 
 where the trail crossed it. It ran in a deep hollow, 
 full of trees : as we looked down we saw a confused 
 crowd of horsemen riding through the water ; and 
 among the dingy habiliments of our party glittered 
 the uniforms of four dragoons. 
 
 Shaw came whipping his horse up the bank, in 
 advance of the rest, with a somewhat indignant 
 countenance. The first word he spoke was a bless- 
 ing fervently invoked on the head of R., who was 
 riding, with a crest-fallen air, in the rear. Thanks 
 to the ingenious devices of this gentleman, we had 
 missed the track entirely, and wandered, not toward 
 the Platte, but to the village of the Iowa Indians. 
 This we learned from the dragoons, who had lately 
 deserted from Fort Leavenworth. They told us that 
 our best plan now was to keep to the northward 
 until we should strike the trail formed by several 
 parties of Oregon emigrants, who had that season 
 set out from St. Joseph's in Missouri. 
 
 In extremely bad temper we encamped on this 
 ill-starred spot ; while the deserters, whose case 
 admitted of no delay, rode rapidly forward. On 
 the day following, striking the St. Joseph's trail, we 
 turned our horses' heads toward Fort Laramie, then 
 about seven hundred miles to the westward. 
 
CHAPTER V. 
 
 THE "BIG BLUE." 
 
 " A man so various, that he seemed to be 
 Not one, but all mankind's epitome, 
 Stiff in opinions, always in the wrong. 
 Was everything by starts, and nothing long, 
 But in the space of one revolving moon, 
 Was gamester, chemist, fiddler, and buffoon." 
 
 Dryden. 
 
 The great medley of Oregon and California emi- 
 grants, at their camps around Independence, had 
 heard reports that several additional parties were on 
 the point of setting out from St. Joseph's, farther to 
 the northward. The prevailing impression was that 
 these were Mormons, twenty -three hundred in num- 
 ber, and a great alarm was excited in consequence. 
 The people of Ilhnois and Missouri, who composed by 
 far the greater part of the emigrants, have never been 
 on the best terms with the ' ' Latter-day Saints ' ' ; and 
 it is notorious throughout the country how much blood 
 has been spilt in their feuds, even far within the 
 limits of the settlements. No one could predict what 
 would be the result when large armed bodies of 
 these fanatics should encounter the most impetuous 
 and reckless of their old enemies on the broad prai- 
 rie, far beyond the reach of law or military force. 
 The women and children at Independence raised a 
 great outcry ; the men themselves were seriously 
 alarmed ; and, as I learned, they sent to Colonel 
 Kearney, requesting an escort of dragoons as far as 
 the Platte. This was refused ; and as the sequel 
 proved there was no occasion for it. The St. Jo- 
 seph's emigrants were as good Christians and as 
 zealous Mormon-haters as the rest ; and the very 
 38 
 
THE ''BIG blue:' 39 
 
 few families of the ' ' saints ' ' who passed out this 
 season by the route of the Platte remained behind 
 until the great tide of emigration had gone by ; 
 standing in quite as much awe of the ' ' gentiles ' ' as 
 the latter did of them. 
 
 We were now, as I before mentioned, upon this 
 St. Joseph's trail. It was evident, by the traces, 
 that large parties were a few days in advance of us ; 
 and as we too supposed them to be Mormons, we 
 had some apprehension of interruption. 
 
 The journey was somewhat monotonous. One 
 day we rode on for hours without seeing a tree or a 
 bush : before, behind, and on either side stretched 
 the vast expanse, rolling in a succession of graceful 
 swells, covered with the unbroken carpet of fresh 
 green grass. Here and there a crow, or a raven, 
 or a turkey-buzzard relieved the uniformity. 
 
 "What shall we do to-night for wood and 
 water ?' ' Ave began to ask of each other ; for the sun 
 was within an hour of setting. At length a dark 
 green speck appeared, far off on the right ; it was 
 the top of a tree, peering over a swell of the prairie ; 
 and leaving the trail, we made all haste toward it. 
 It proved to be the vanguard of a cluster of bushes 
 and low trees, that surrounded some pools of water 
 in an extensive hollow ; so we encamped on the 
 rising ground near it. 
 
 Shaw and I were sitting in the tent when Delorier 
 thrust his brown face and old felt hat into the open- 
 ing, and dilating his eyes to their utmost extent, 
 announced supper. There were the tin cups and 
 the iron spoons arranged in military order on the 
 grass, and the coffee-pot predominant in the midst. 
 The meal was soon dispatched ; but Henry Chatillon 
 still sat cross-legged, dallying with the remnant of 
 his coffee, the beverage in universal use upon the 
 prairie, and an especial favorite with him. He 
 
40 THE OREGON TRAIL, 
 
 preferred it in its virgin flavor, unimpaired by sugar 
 or cream ; and on the present occasion it met his 
 entire approval, being exceedingly strong, or as he 
 expressed it, "right black." 
 
 It was a rich and gorgeous sunset^ — an American 
 sunset ; and the ruddy glow of the sky was reflected 
 from some extensive pools of water among the 
 shadowy copses in the meadow below. 
 
 "I must have a bath to-night," said Shaw, 
 "How is it. Delorier ? Any chance for a swim 
 down there ?' ' 
 
 "Ah! I cannot tell; just as you please. Mon- 
 sieur," replied Delorier, shrugging his shoulders, 
 perplexed by his ignorance of English, and ex- 
 tremely anxious to conform in all respects to the 
 opinions and wishes of his bourgeois. 
 
 " Look at his moccason," said I. It had evi- 
 dently been lately immersed in a profound abyss of 
 black mud. 
 
 "Come," said Shaw ; "at any rate we can see 
 for ourselves." 
 
 We set out together ; and as we approached the 
 bushes, which were at some distance, we found the 
 ground becoming rather treacherous. We could 
 only get along by stepping upon large clumps of 
 tall rank grass, with fathomless gulfs between, like 
 innumerable little quaking islands in an ocean of 
 mud, where a false step would have involved our 
 boots in a catastrophe like that which had befallen 
 Delorier' s moccasons. The thing looked desperate : 
 we separated, so as to search in different directions, 
 Shaw going off to the right, while I kept straight 
 forward. At last I came to the edge of the bushes : 
 they were young water- willows, covered with their 
 caterpillar-like blossoms, but intervening between 
 them and the last grass clump was a black and 
 deep slough, over which, by a vigorous exertion, I 
 
THE ''BIG blue:' 4 1 
 
 contrived to jump. Then I shouldered my way 
 through the willows, trampling them down by main 
 force, till I came to a wide stream of water, three 
 inches deep, languidly creeping along over a bottom 
 of sleek mud. My arrival produced a great com- 
 motion. A huge green bull-frog uttered an indig- 
 nant croak, and jumped off the bank with a loud 
 splash : his webbed feet twinkled above the surface 
 as he jerked them energetically upward, and I 
 could see him ensconcing himself in the unresisting 
 slime at the bottom, whence several large air- 
 bubbles struggled lazily to the top. Some little 
 spotted frogs instantly followed the patriarch's ex- 
 ample ; and then three turtles, not larger than a 
 dollar, tumbled themselves off a broad "lily pad," 
 where they had been reposing. At the same time 
 a snake, gayly striped with black and yellow, glided 
 out from the bank, and writhed across to the other 
 side ; and a small stagnant pool, into which my 
 foot had inadvertently pushed a stone, was instantly 
 alive with a congregation of black tadpoles. 
 
 " Any chance for a bath, where you are ?" called 
 out Shaw, from a distance. 
 
 The answer was not encouraging. I retreated 
 through the willows, and rejoining my companion, 
 we proceeded to push our researches in company. 
 Not far on the right, a rising ground, covered with 
 trees and bushes, seemed to sink down abruptly to 
 the water, and give hope of better success ; so to- 
 ward this we directed our steps. When we reached 
 the place we found it no easy matter to get along 
 between the hill and the water, impeded as we 
 were by a growth of stiff, obstinate young birch 
 trees, laced together by grape-vines. In the twilight 
 we now and then, to support ourselves, snatched at 
 the touch-me-not stem of some ancient sweet-brier. 
 Shaw, who was in advance, suddenly uttered a 
 
42 THE OREGON TRAIL. 
 
 somewhat emphatic monosyllable ; and, looking up, 
 I saw him with one hand grasping a sapling and 
 one foot immersed in the water, from which he had 
 forgotten to withdraw it, his whole attention being 
 engaged in contemplating the movements of a 
 water-snake about five feet long, curiously check- 
 ered with black and green, who was deliberately 
 swimming across the pool. There being no stick 
 or stone at hand to pelt him with, we looked at him 
 for a time in silent disgust ; and then pushed for- 
 ward. Our perseverance was at last rewarded ; for 
 several rods farther on we emerged upon a little 
 level grassy nook among the brushwood, and by an 
 extraordinary dispensation of fortune, the weeds and 
 floating sticks, which elsewhere covered the pool, 
 seemed to have drawn apart, and left a few yards 
 of clear water just in front of this favored spot. We 
 sounded it with a stick ; it was four feet deep : we lifted 
 a specimen in our closed hands ; it seemed reason- 
 ably transparent, so we decided that the time for ac- 
 tion was arrived. But our ablutions were suddenly 
 interrupted by ten thousand punctures, like poisoned 
 needles, and the humming of myriads of overgrown 
 mosquitoes, rising in all directions from their native 
 mud and slime and swarming to the feast. We 
 were fain to beat a retreat with all possible speed. 
 
 We made toward the tents, much refreshed by the 
 bath, which the heat of the weather, joined to our 
 prejudices, had rendered very desirable. 
 
 ' ' What' s the matter with the Captain ? look at 
 him!" said Shaw. The Captain stood alone on 
 the prairie, swinging his hat violently around his 
 head, and lifting first one foot and then the other, 
 without moving from the spot. First he looked 
 down to the ground with an air of supreme abhor- 
 rence ; then he gazed upward with a perplexed and 
 indignant countenance, as if trying to trace the flight 
 
THE ''BIG blue:' 43 
 
 of an unseen enemy. We called to know what was 
 the matter ; but he replied only by execrations 
 directed against some unknown object. We ap- 
 proached, when our ears were saluted by a droning 
 sound, as if twenty bee-hives had been overturned at 
 once. The air above was full of large black insects 
 in a state of great commotion, and multitudes were 
 flying about just above the tops of the grass-blades. 
 
 " Don't be afraid," called the Captain, observing 
 us recoil. " The brutes won't sting." 
 
 At this I knocked one down with my hat, and 
 discovered him to be no other than a ' ' dor-bug ' ' ; 
 and looking closer, we found the ground thickly 
 perforated with their holes. 
 
 We took a hasty leave of this flourishing colony, 
 and walking up the rising ground to the tents, found 
 Delorier's fire still glowing brightly. We sat down 
 around it, and Shaw began to expatiate on the ad- 
 mirable facilities for bathing that we had discovered, 
 and recommended the Captain by all means to go 
 down there before breakfast in the morning. The 
 Captain was in the act of remarking that he couldn't 
 have believed it possible, when he suddenly inter- 
 rupted himself, and clapped his hand to his cheek, 
 exclaiming that ' ' those infernal humbugs were at 
 him again." In fact, we began to hear sounds as 
 if bullets were humming over our heads. In a 
 moment something rapped me sharply on the fore- 
 head, then upon the neck, and immediately 1 felt 
 an indefinite number of sharp wiry claws in active 
 motion, as if their owner were bent on pushing his 
 explorations farther. I seized him and dropped him 
 into the fire. Our party speedily broke up, and we 
 adjourned to our respective tents, where, closing the 
 opening fast, we hoped to be exempt from invasion. 
 But all precaution was fruitless. The dor-bugs 
 hummed throusrh the tent and marched over our 
 
44 THE OREGON TRAIL. 
 
 faces until daylight ; when, opening our blankets, 
 we found several dozen clinging there with the ut- 
 most tenacity. The first object that met our eyes 
 in the morning was Delorier, who seemed to be 
 apostrophizing his frying-pan, which he held by the 
 handle, at arm's length. It appeared that he had 
 left it at night by the fire ; and the bottom was now 
 covered with dor-bugs, firmly imbedded. Multi- 
 tudes besides, curiously parched and shrivelled, lay 
 scattered among the ashes. 
 
 The horses and mules were turned loose to feed. 
 We had just taken our seats at breakfast, or rather 
 reclined in the classic mode, when an exclamation 
 from Henry Chatillon, and a shout of alarm from 
 the Captain, gave warning of some casualty, and 
 looking up, we saw the whole band of animals, 
 twenty-three in number, fihng off for the settle- 
 ments, the incorrigible Pontiac at their head, jump- 
 ing along with hobbled feet, at a gait much more 
 rapid than graceful. Three or four of us ran to cut 
 them off, dashing as best we might through the tall 
 grass which was glittering with myriads of dew- 
 drops. After a race of a mile or more Shaw caught 
 a horse. Tying the trail-rope by way of bridle 
 round the animal's jaw, and leaping upon his back, 
 he got in advance of the remaining fugitives, while 
 we, soon bringing them together, drove them in a 
 crowd up to the tents, where each man caught and 
 saddled his own. Then were heard lamentations 
 and curses ; for half the horses had broke their 
 hobbles, and many were seriously galled by attempt- 
 ing to run in fetters. 
 
 It was late that morning before we were on the 
 march ; and early in the afternoon we were com- 
 pelled to encamp, for a thunder-gust came up and 
 suddenly enveloped us in whirling sheets of rain. 
 With much ado we pitched our tents amid the tem- 
 
THE ''BIG blue:' 45 
 
 pest, and all night long the thunder bellowed and 
 growled over our heads. In the morning, light 
 peaceful showers succeeded the cataracts of rain 
 that had been drenching us through the canvas of 
 our tents. About noon, when there were some 
 treacherous indications of fair weather, we got in 
 motion again. 
 
 Not a breath of air stirred over the free and open 
 prairie : the clouds were like light piles of cotton ; 
 and where the blue sky was visible, it wore a hazy 
 and languid aspect. The sun beat down upon us 
 with a sultry penetrating heat almost insupportable, 
 and as our party crept slowly along over the inter- 
 minable level, the horses hung their heads as they 
 waded fetlock deep through the mud, and the men 
 slouched into the easiest position upon the saddle. 
 At last, toward evening, the old familiar black 
 heads of thunder-clouds rose fast above the horizon, 
 and the same deep muttering of distant thunder that 
 had become the ordinary accompaniment of our 
 afternoon's journey began to roll hoarsely over the 
 prairie. Only a few minutes elapsed before the 
 whole sky w^as densely shrouded, and the prairie 
 and some clusters of woods in front assumed a 
 purple hue beneath the inky shadows. Suddenly 
 from the densest fold of the cloud the flash leaped 
 out, quivering again and again down to the edge of 
 the prairie ; and at the same instant came the sharp 
 burst and the long rolling peal of the thunder. A 
 cool wind, filled with the smell of rain, just then 
 overtook us, levelling the tall grass by the side of 
 the path. 
 
 "Come on; we must ride for it!" shouted 
 Shaw, rushing past at full speed, his led horse snort- 
 ing at his side. The whole party broke into full 
 gallop, and made for the trees in front. Passing 
 these, we found beyond them a meadow which they 
 
46 THE OREGON TRAIL. 
 
 half inclosed. We rode pell-mell upon the ground, 
 leaped from horseback, tore off our saddles ; and in 
 a moment each man was kneeling at his horse's 
 feet. The hobbles were adjusted, and the animals 
 turned loose ; then, as the wagons came wheeling 
 rapidly to the spot, we seized upon the tent-poles, 
 and just as the storm broke we were prepared to 
 receive it. It came upon us almost with the dark- 
 ness of night : the trees which were close at hand 
 were completely shrouded by the roaring torrents 
 of rain. 
 
 We were sitting in the tent, when Delorier, with 
 his broad felt hat hanging about his ears and his 
 shoulders glistening with rain, thrust in his head. 
 
 " Voulez vous du souper, tout de suite? I can 
 make fire, sous la charette — I b'lieve so — I try." 
 
 ' ' Never mind supper, man ; come in out of the 
 rain." 
 
 Delorier accordingly crouched in the entrance, 
 for modesty would not permit him to intrude farther. 
 
 Our tent was none of the best defence against 
 such a cataract. The rain could not enter bodily, 
 but it beat through the canvas in a fine drizzle that 
 wetted us just as effectually. We sat upon our 
 saddles with faces of the utmost surliness, while the 
 water dropped from the vizors of our caps and 
 trickled down our cheeks. My india-rubber cloak 
 conducted twenty little rapid streamlets to the 
 ground ; and Shaw's blanket coat was saturated 
 like a sponge. But what most concerned us was the 
 sight of several puddles of water rapidly accumu- 
 lating ; one, in particular, that was gathering around 
 the tent-pole, threatened to overspread the whole 
 area within the tent, holding forth but an indifferent 
 promise of a comfortable night's rest. Toward sun- 
 set, however, the storm ceased as suddenly as it 
 began. A bright streak of clear red sky appeared 
 
THE ''BIG blue:' 47 
 
 above the western verge of the prairie, the horizon- 
 tal rays of the sinking sun streamed through it, and 
 ghttered in a thousand prismatic colors upon the 
 dripping groves and the prostrate grass. The pools 
 in the tent dwindled and sank into the saturated 
 soil. 
 
 But all our hopes were delusive. Scarcely had 
 night set in when the tumult broke forth anew. The 
 thunder here is not like the tame thunder of the 
 Atlantic coast. Bursting with a terrific crash directly 
 above our heads, it roared over the boundless waste 
 of prairie, seeming to roll around the whole circle 
 of the firmament with a peculiar and awful rever- 
 beration. The lightning flashed all night, playing 
 with its livid glare upon the neighboring trees, re- 
 vealing the vast expanse of the plain, and then 
 leaving us shut in as if by a palpable wall of dark- 
 ness. 
 
 It did not disturb us much. Now and then a peal 
 awakened us, and made us conscious of the electric 
 battle that was raging, and of the floods that dashed 
 upon the stanch canvas over our heads. We lay 
 upon india-rubber cloths, placed between our 
 blankets and the soil. For a while they excluded 
 the water to admiration ; but when at length it accu- 
 mulated and began to run over the edges, they 
 served equally well to retain it, so that toward the 
 end of the night we were unconsciously reposing in 
 small pools of rain. 
 
 On finally awakening in the morning the prospect 
 was not a cheerful one. The rain no longer poured 
 in torrents, but it pattered with a quiet pertinacity 
 upon the strained and saturated canvas. We dis- 
 engaged ourselves from our blankets, every fibre of 
 which glistened with little bead-like drops of water, 
 and looked out in the vain hope of discovering some 
 token of fair weather. The clouds, in lead-colored 
 
48 THE OREGON TRAIL. 
 
 volumes, rested upon the dismal verge of the prairie, 
 or hung sluggishly overhead, while the earth wore 
 an aspect no more attractive than the heavens, ex- 
 hibiting nothing but pools of water, grass beaten 
 down, and mud well trampled by our mules and 
 horses. Our companions' tent, with an air of for- 
 lorn and passive miser}^ and their wagons in like 
 manner, drenched and woe-begone, stood not far 
 off. The Captain was just returning from his morn- 
 ing's inspection of the horses. He stalked through 
 the mist and rain with his plaid around his shoulders, 
 his little pipe, dingy as an antiquarian relic, pro- 
 jecting from beneath his moustache, and his brother 
 Jack at his heels. 
 
 " Good morning, Captain." 
 
 "Good morning to your honors," said the Cap- 
 tain, affecting the Hibernian accent ; but at that 
 instant, as he stooped to enter the tent, he tripped 
 upon the cords at the entrance, and pitched forward 
 against the guns which were strapped around the 
 pole in the centre. 
 
 " You are nice men, you are !" said he, after an 
 ejaculation not necessary to be recorded, "to set a 
 man-trap before your door every morning to catch 
 your visitors." 
 
 Then he sat down upon Henry Chatillon's saddle. 
 We tossed a piece of buffalo-robe to Jack, who was 
 looking about in some embarrassment. He spread 
 it on the ground, and took his seat, with a stolid 
 countenance, at his brother's side. 
 
 "Exhilarating weather. Captain." 
 
 "Oh, delightful, delightful!" rephed the Cap- 
 tain ; "I knew it would be so ; so much for starting 
 yesterday at noon ! I knew how it would turn out ; 
 and I said so at the time." 
 
 ' ' You said just the contrary to us. We were in no 
 hurry, and only moved because you insisted on it." 
 
THE ''BIG blue:' 49 
 
 "Gentlemen," said the Captain, taking his pipe 
 from his mouth with an air of extreme gravity, ' ' it 
 was no plan of mine. There's a man among us 
 who is determined to have everything his own way. 
 You may express your opinion ; but don't expect 
 him to listen. You may be as reasonable as you 
 like ; oh, it all goes for nothing ! That man is re- 
 solved to rule the roast, and he'll set his face against 
 any plan that he didn't think of himself." 
 
 The Captain puffed for awhile at his pipe, as if 
 meditating upon his grievances ; then he began 
 again. 
 
 ' ' For twenty years I have been in the British 
 army ; and in all that time I never had half so 
 much dissension, and quarrelhng, and nonsense, as 
 since I have been on this cursed prairie. He's the 
 most uncomfortable man I ever met." 
 
 "Yes;" said Jack, "and don't you know. Bill, 
 how he drank up all the coffee last night, and put 
 the rest by for himself till the morning !" 
 
 " He pretends to know ever^^thing, " resumed the 
 Captain ; " nobody must give orders but he ! It's, 
 oh ! we must do this ; and, oh ! we must do that ; 
 and the tent must be pitched here, and the horses 
 must be picketed there ; for nobody knows as well 
 as he does." 
 
 We were a little surprised at this disclosure of 
 domestic dissensions among our allies, for though 
 we knew of their existence, we were not aware 
 of their extent. The persecuted Captain seeming 
 wholly at a loss as to the course of conduct that he 
 should pursue, we recommended him to adopt 
 prompt and energetic measures ; but all his military 
 experience had failed to teach him the indispensable 
 lesson, to be "hard" when the emergency re- 
 quires it. 
 
 " For twenty years," he repeated, " I have been 
 4 
 
50 THE OREGON TRAIL. 
 
 in the British army, and in that time I have been in- 
 timately acquainted with some two hundred officers, 
 young and old, and I never yet quarrelled with 
 any man. 'Oh, anything for a quiet life!' that's 
 my maxim." 
 
 We intimated that the prairie was hardly the 
 place to enjoy a quiet life, but that, in the present 
 circumstances, the best thing he could do toward 
 securing his wished-for tranquillity was immediately 
 to put a period to the nuisance that disturbed it. 
 But again the Captain' s easy good nature recoiled 
 from the task. The somewhat vigorous measures 
 necessary to gain the desired result were utterly 
 repugnant to him ; he preferred to pocket his 
 grievances, still retaining the privilege of grum- 
 bling about them. ' ' Oh, anything for a quiet 
 life!" he said again, circhng back to his favorite 
 maxim. 
 
 But to glance at the previous history of our trans- 
 atlantic confederates. The Captain had sold his 
 commission, and was living in bachelor ease and 
 dignity in his paternal halls, near Dublin. He 
 hunted, fished, rode steeple-chases, ran races, and 
 talked of his former exploits. He was surrounded 
 with the trophies of his rod and gun ; the walls were 
 plentifully garnished, he told us, with moose-horns 
 and deer-horns, bear-skins and fox-tails ; for the 
 Captain's double-barrelled rifle had seen service in 
 Canada and Jamaica ; he had killed salmon in Nova 
 Scotia, and trout, by his own account, in all the 
 streams of the three kingdoms. But in an evil hour 
 a seductive stranger came from London ; no less a 
 person than R. ; who, among other multitudinous 
 wanderings, had once been upon the western prairies, 
 and, naturally enough, was anxious to visit them 
 again. The Captain's imagination was inflamed by 
 the pictures of a hunter's paradise that his guest 
 
THE ''BIG blue:' 5 I 
 
 held forth ; he conceived an ambition to add to his 
 other trophies the horns of a buffalo and the claws 
 of a grizzly bear ; so he and R. struck a league to 
 travel in company. Jack followed his brother' as 
 a matter of course. Two weeks on board of the 
 Atlantic steamer brought them to Boston ; in two 
 weeks more of hard travelling they reached St. 
 Louis, from which a ride of six days carried them to 
 the frontier ; and here we found them, in the full 
 tide of preparation for their journey. 
 
 We had been throughout on terms of intimacy 
 with the Captain, but R., the motive power of our 
 companions' branch of the expedition, was scarcely 
 known to us. His voice, indeed, might be heard 
 incessantly ; but at camp he remained chiefly within 
 the tent, and on the road he either rode by himself 
 or else remained in close conversation with his friend 
 Wright, the muleteer. As the Captain left the tent 
 that morning I observed R. standing by the fire, 
 and, having nothing else to do, I determined to 
 ascertain, if possible, what manner of man he was. 
 He had a book under his arm, but just at present 
 he was engrossed in actively superintending the 
 operations of Sorel, the hunter, who was cooking 
 some corn-bread over the coals for breakfast. R. 
 was a well-formed and rather good-looking man, 
 some thirty years old ; considerably younger than 
 the Captain. He wore a beard and moustache of 
 the oakum complexion, and his attire was altogether 
 more elegant than one ordinarily sees on the prairie. 
 He wore his cap on one side of his head ; his checked 
 shirt, open in front, was in very neat order, consid- 
 ering the circumstances, and his blue pantaloons, 
 of the John Bull cut, might once have figured in 
 Bond Street. 
 
 "Turn over that cake, man ! turn it over quick ! 
 Don't you see it burning ?" 
 
52 THE OREGON TRAIL. 
 
 "It ain't half-done," growled Sorel, in the 
 amiable tone of a whipped bull-dog. 
 
 " It is. Turn it over, I tell you !" 
 
 Sorel, a strong, sullen-looking Canadian, who, 
 from having spent his life among the wildest and 
 most remote of the Indian tribes, had imbibed 
 m.uch of their dark vindictive spirit, looked fero- 
 ciously up, as if he longed to leap upon his bourgeois 
 and throttle him ; but he obeyed the order, coming 
 from so experienced an artist. 
 
 "It was a good idea of yours," said I, seating 
 myself on the tongue of the wagon, ' ' to bring Indian 
 meal with you." 
 
 "Yes, yes," said R., "it's good bread for the 
 prairie — good bread for the prairie. I tell you 
 that's burning again." 
 
 Here he stooped down, and unsheathing the 
 silver-mounted hunting-knife in his belt, began to 
 perform the part of cook himself ; at the same time 
 requesting me to hold for a moment the book under 
 his arm, which interfered with the exercise of these 
 important functions. I opened it ; it was Macaulay s 
 Lays; and I made some remark, expressing my 
 admiration of the work. 
 
 "Yes, yes ; a pretty good thing. Macaulay can 
 do better than that, though. I know him very well. 
 I have travelled with him. Where was it we met 
 first — at Damascus ? No, no ; it was in Italy." 
 
 "So," said I, "you have been over the same 
 ground with your countryman, the author of Eothen ? 
 There has been some discussion in America as to who 
 he is. I have heard Milnes's name mentioned." 
 
 "Milnes? Oh, no, no, no; not at all. It was 
 Kinglake ; Kinglake's the man. I know him very 
 well ; that is, I have seen him." 
 
 Here Jack C, who stood by, interposed a remark 
 (a thing not common with him), observing that he 
 
THE ''BIG blue:' 53 
 
 thought the weather would become fair before twelve 
 o'clock. 
 
 "It's going to rain all day," Said R., "and clear 
 up in the middle of the night." 
 
 Just then the clouds began to dissipate in a very 
 unequivocal manner ; but Jack, not caring to defend 
 his point against so authoritative a declaration, 
 walked away whisthng, and we resumed our con- 
 versation. 
 
 "Borrow, the author of The Bible in Spain, I 
 presume you know him, too ?" 
 
 "Oh, certainly ; I know all those men. By the 
 way, they told me that one of your American writers, 
 Judge Story, had died lately. I edited some of his 
 works in London ; not without faults, though." 
 
 Here followed an erudite commentary on certain 
 points of law, in which he particularly animadverted 
 on the errors into which he considered that the 
 judge had been betrayed. At length, having 
 touched successively on an infinite variety of topics, 
 I found that I had the happiness of discovering a 
 man equally competent to enlighten me upon them 
 all, equally an authority on matters of science or 
 hterature, philosophy or fashion. The part I bore 
 in the conversation was by no means a prominent 
 one ; it was only necessary to set him going, and 
 when he had run long enough upon one topic, to 
 divert him to another, and lead him on to pour out 
 his heaps of treasure in succession. 
 
 ' ' What has that fellow been saying to you ?' ' said 
 Shaw, as I returned to the tent. "I have heard 
 nothing but his talking for the last half-hour." 
 
 R. had none of the peculiar traits of the ordinary 
 " British snob " ; his absurdities were all his own, 
 belonging to no particular nation or chme. He was 
 possessed with an active devil that had driven him 
 over land and sea, to no great purpose, as it 
 
54 THE OREGON TRAIL. 
 
 seemed ; for although he had the usual complement 
 of eyes and ears, the avenues between these organs 
 and his brain appeared remarkably narrow and un- 
 trodden. His energy was much more conspicuous 
 than his wisdom ; but his predominant character- 
 istic was a magnanimous ambition to exercise on all 
 occasions an awful rule and supremacy, and this 
 propensity equally displayed itself, as the reader 
 will have observed, whether the matter in question 
 was the baking of a hoe-cake or a point of interna- 
 tional law. When such diverse elements as he and 
 the easy-tempered Captain came in contact, no 
 wonder some commotion ensued ; R. rode rough- 
 shod, from morning till night, over his military ally. 
 
 At noon the sky was clear, and we set out, trail- 
 ing through mud and slime six inches deep. That 
 night we were spared the customary infliction of the 
 shower-bath. 
 
 On the next afternoon we were moving slowly 
 along, not far from a patch of woods which lay on 
 the right. Jack C. rode a little in advance, 
 
 " The livelong day he had not spoke," 
 
 when suddenly he faced about, pointed to the woods, 
 and roared out to his brother : 
 
 " Oh, Bill ! here's a cow !" 
 
 The Captain instantly galloped forward, and he 
 and Jack made a vain attempt to capture the prize ; 
 but the cow, with a well-grounded distrust of their 
 intentions, took refuge among the trees, R. joined 
 them, and they soon drove her out. We watched 
 their evolutions as they galloped around her, trying 
 in vain to noose her with their trail-ropes, which 
 they had converted into lariettcs for the occasion. 
 At length they resorted to milder measures, and the 
 cow was driven along with the party. Soon after 
 the usual thunder-storm came up, the wind blowing 
 
THE ''BIG blue:' 55 
 
 with such fury that the streams of rain flew almost 
 horizontally along the prairie, roaring like a cat- 
 aract. The horses turned tail to the storm, and 
 stood hanging their heads, bearing the infliction 
 with an air of meekness and resignation ; while we 
 drew our heads between our shoulders, and crouched 
 forward, so as to make our backs serve as a pent- 
 house for the rest of our persons. Meanwhile, the 
 cow, taking advantage of the tumult, ran off, to the 
 great discomfiture of the Captain, who seemed to 
 consider her as his own especial prize, since she had 
 been discovered by Jack. In defiance of the storm, 
 he pulled his cap tight over his brows, jerked a huge 
 buffalo-pistol from his holster, and set out at full 
 speed after her. This was the last we saw of them 
 for some time, the mist and rain making an impene- 
 trable veil ; but at length we heard the Captain's 
 shout, and saw him looming through the tempest, 
 the picture of a Hibernian cavalier, with his cocked 
 pistol held aloft for safety's sake, and a countenance 
 of anxiety and excitement. The cow trotted before 
 him, but exhibited evident signs of an intention to 
 run off again, and the Captain was roaring to us to 
 head her. But the rain had got in behind our coat 
 collars, and was travelling over our necks in numer- 
 ous little streamlets, and being afraid to move our 
 heads, for fear of admitting more, we sat stiff and 
 immovable, looking at the Captain askance, and 
 laughing at his frantic movements. At last the cow 
 made a sudden plunge and ran off; the Captain 
 grasped his pistol firmly, spurred his horse, and gal- 
 loped after, with evident designs of mischief. In a 
 moment we heard the faint report, deadened by the 
 rain, and then the conqueror and his victim reap- 
 peared, the latter shot through the body, and quite 
 helpless. Not long after the storm moderated and 
 we advanced again. The cow walked painfully 
 
56 THE OREGON TRAIL. 
 
 along under the charge of Jack, to whom the Cap- 
 tain had committed her, while he himself rode for- 
 ward in his old capacity of vidette. We were ap- 
 proaching a long line of trees that followed a stream 
 stretching across our path, far in front, when we 
 beheld the vidette galloping toward us, apparently 
 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 path. The cow, therefore, resumed her place 
 in our procession. She walked on until we en- 
 camped, when R., firmly approaching with his 
 enormous English double-barrelled rifle, calmly and 
 deliberately 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. had flung 
 off his clothes, and was swimming across, or splash- 
 ing through the shallows, with the end of a rope 
 between his teeth. We all looked on in admira- 
 tion, wondering what might be the design of this 
 energetic preparation ; but soon we heard him shout- 
 
THE ''BIG blue:' 5/ 
 
 ing : "Give that rope a turn round that stump! 
 You, Sorel ; do you hear ? Look sharp, now, Bois- 
 verd ! 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 directed the work, and it proceeded 
 quietly and rapidly. R.'s sharp brattling voice 
 might have been heard incessantly ; and he was 
 leaping about with the utmost activity, miultiplying 
 himself, after the manner of great commanders, as 
 if his universal presence and supervision were of 
 the last necessity. His commands were rather 
 amusingly inconsistent ; for when he saw that the 
 men would not do as he told them, he wisely accom- 
 modated himself to circumstances, and with the ut- 
 most vehemence ordered them to do precisely that 
 which they were at the time engaged upon, no 
 doubt recollecting the story of Mahomet and the 
 refractory mountain. Shaw smiled significantly ; 
 R. observed it, and approaching with a countenance 
 of lofty indignation, began to vapor a little, 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 Delorier took their 
 stations at the four corners, to hold it together, and 
 swim across with it ; and in a moment more all 
 our earthly possessions were floating on the turbid 
 waters of the Big Blue. We sat on the bank, 
 anxiously watching the result, until we saw the raft 
 safely landed in a little cove far down on the oppo- 
 site bank. The empty wagons were easily passed 
 across ; and then, each man mounting a horse, we 
 rode through the stream, the stray animals following 
 of their own accord. 
 
CHAPTER VI. 
 
 THE PLATTE AND THE DESERT. 
 
 " Seest thou yon dreary plain, forlorn and wild, 
 The seat of desolation?" — Paradise Lost, 
 
 " Here have we war for war, and blood for blood." 
 
 King John, 
 
 We were now arrived at the close of our solitary 
 journeyings along the St. Joseph's 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 after- 
 noon, trying in vain to find wood and water, until 
 at length we saw the sunset sky reflected from a 
 pool encircled by bushes and a rock or two. 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 Heniy Chatillon had dis- 
 cerned some unusual object upon the faintly defined 
 outline of the distant swell. 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 encountered a human 
 being, and this singular warning of their vicinity 
 had an effect extremely wild and 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 
 
 58 
 
THE PLATTE AND THE DESERT. 59 
 
 ears with the drizzhng moisture of the evening. 
 Another followed, a stout, square-built, intelligent- 
 looking man, who announced himself as leader 
 of an emigrant party, encamped a mile in ad- 
 vance 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 quarrelhng mean- 
 while among themselves. 
 
 These were the first emigrants that we had over- 
 taken, although we had found abundant and melan- 
 choly traces of their progress throughout the whole 
 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 by a 
 red-hot piece of iron : 
 
 MARY ELLIS. 
 
 DIED MAY 7th, 1845. 
 AGED TWO MONTHS. 
 
 Such tokens were of common occurrence. Noth- 
 ing could speak more for the hardihood, or rather 
 infatuation, of the adventurers, or the sufferings that 
 await them upon the journey. 
 
 We were late in breaking up our camp on the 
 following morning, and scarcely had we ridden a 
 mile when we saw, far in advance of us, drawn 
 against the horizon, a hne of objects stretching at 
 regular intervals along the level edge of the prairie. 
 An intervening swell soon hid them from sight, 
 
6o THE OREGON TRAIL. 
 
 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 their slow pro- 
 cession, and a large drove of cattle following be- 
 hind. Half a dozen yellow-visaged Missourians, 
 mounted on horseback, were cursing and shouting 
 among them ; their lank angular proportions, envel- 
 oped in brown homespun, evidently cut and ad- 
 justed by the hands of a domestic female tailor. 
 As we approached, they greeted us with the pol- 
 ished salutation : " How are ye, boys ? Are ye for 
 Oregon or California ?' ' 
 
 As we pushed rapidly past the wagons, children' s 
 faces were thrust out from the white coverings to 
 look at us ; while the care-worn, thin-featured ma- 
 tron, or the buxom girl, seated in front, suspended 
 the knitting on which most of them were engaged to 
 stare at us with wondering 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 journey. It was easy 
 to see that fear and dissension prevailed among 
 them ; some of the men — but these, with one excep- 
 tion, were bachelors — looked wistfully upon us as we 
 rode lightly and swiftly past, and then impatiently 
 at their own lumbering wagons and heavy-gaited 
 oxen. Others were unwilling to advance at all until 
 the 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 apprehension of the deserts 
 and the savages before them. 
 
 We soon left them far behind, and fondly hoped 
 that we had taken a final leave ; but unluckily our 
 
THE PLATTE AND THE DESERT 6 1 
 
 companions' wagon stuck so long in a deep muddy 
 ditch, that before it was extricated the van of the 
 emigrant caravan appeared again, descending 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 
 much gratification 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 looking 
 about for wood and water. They seemed to meet 
 with 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 he had just filled with water. 
 
 "Look here, you," said he; "it's chock-full of 
 animals !" 
 
 The cup, as he held it out, exhibited in fact an 
 extraordinary 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 the camp of the emigrants. 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 blacksmith who was attached to the emigrant 
 party. Something whispered in our ears that mis- 
 chief was on foot ; we kept on, however, and coming 
 soon to a stream of tolerable water, we stopped to 
 rest and dine. Still the absentee Hngered 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 ?' ' 
 
62 THE OREGON TRAIL. 
 
 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 declivity and gravely descended, while R. 
 rode in state in the van. It seems that during the 
 process of shoeing the horse, the smothered dissen- 
 sions among the emigrants suddenly broke into open 
 rupture. Some insisted on pushing forward, 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 you are for going ahead, just you come along 
 with me." 
 
 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 of no other motive 
 — must have induced him to court so burdensome 
 an alliance. As may well be conceived, these 
 repeated instances of high-handed dealing suffi- 
 ciently exasperated us. In this case, indeed, the 
 men who joined us were all that could be desired \ 
 rude, indeed, in manners, but frank, manly, and 
 intelligent. To tell them we could not travel with 
 them was of course 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 
 ''should keep up; and if they couldn't, why he 
 allowed he'd find out how to make 'em !" Having 
 also availed myself of what satisfaction could be de- 
 rived from giving R. to understand my opinion of 
 his conduct, I returned to our own side of the camp. 
 
 On the next day, as it chanced, our English com- 
 panions broke the axle-tree of their wagon, and 
 
THE PLATTE AND THE DESERT. 63 
 
 down came tlie whole cumbrous machine lumbering 
 into the bed of a brook ! Here was a day's work 
 cut out for us. Meanwhile, our emigrant associates 
 kept on their way, and so vigorously did they urge 
 forward their powerful oxen, that, with the broken 
 axle-tree and other calamities, it was full a week 
 before we overtook them ; when at length we dis- 
 covered them, one afternoon, crawling quietly along 
 the sandy brink of the Platte. But meanwhile 
 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. Delorier and I held guard together. We 
 did not march with military precision to and fro 
 before the tents : our discipline was by no means so 
 stringent and rigid. We wrapped ourselves in our 
 blankets and sat down by the fire ; and Delorier, 
 combining his culinary functions with his duties as 
 sentinel, employed himself in boiling the head of 
 an antelope for our morning' s repast. Yet we were 
 models of vigilance in comparison with some of the 
 party \ for the ordinary practice of the guard was to 
 estal3lish himself in the most comfortable posture he 
 could ; lay his rifle on the ground, and enveloping his 
 nose in his blanket, meditate on his mistress or what- 
 ever subj ect best pleased him. This is all well enough 
 when among Indians who do not habitually proceed 
 farther 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 perchance some keen-eyed skulking 
 marksman should let fly a bullet or an arrow from 
 amid the darkness. 
 
64 THE OREGON TRAIL. 
 
 Among various tales that circulated around our 
 camp-fire was a rather curious one, told by Boisverd, 
 and not inappropriate here. Boisverd was trapping 
 with several companions on the skirts of the Black- 
 foot country. The man on guard, well-knowing 
 that it behooved him to put forth his utmost pre- 
 caution, kept aloof from the fire-light, and sat 
 watching intently on all sides. At length he was 
 aware of a dark, crouching figure, stealing noise- 
 lessly into the circle of the light. He hastily cocked 
 his rifle, but the sharp click of the lock caught the 
 ear of 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 
 unfortunate 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. 
 
 " Delorier," said I, "would you run away if the 
 Pawnees should fire at us ?' ' 
 
 "Ah ! oui, oui, Monsieur !" he replied very de- 
 cisively. 
 
 I did not doubt the fact, but was a little surprised 
 at the frankness of the confession. 
 
 At this instant a most whimsical variety of voices 
 — barks, howls, yelps, and whines — all mingled as 
 it were together, sounded from the prairie, not far 
 off, as if a whole conclave of wolves of every age 
 and sex were assembled there. Delorier looked up 
 from his work with a laugh, and began to imitate 
 this curious medley of sounds with a most ludicrous 
 accuracy. At this they were repeated with redoubled 
 emphasis, the musician being apparently indignant 
 at the successful efi"orts of a rival. They all pro- 
 
THE PLATTE AND THE DESERT. 65 
 
 ceeded from the throat of one httle wolf, not larger 
 than a spaniel, seated by himself at some distance. 
 He was of the species called the prairie-wolf ; a grim- 
 visaged, but harmless little brute, whose worst pro- 
 pensity is creeping among horses and gnawing the 
 ropes of rav/-hide by which they are picketed around 
 the camp. But 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 Delorier fast asleep. Scandalized by this 
 breach of discipline, I was about to stimulate his 
 vigilance by stirring him with the stock of my rifle ; 
 but compassion prevailing, I determined to let him 
 sleep awhile, and then arouse him and administer a 
 suitable reproof for such a 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 the distance of a rod 
 or two 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 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 1 and the beasts were all that had 
 consciousness for many a league around. 
 
 Some days elapsed, and brought us near the 
 
66 THE OREGON TRAIL. 
 
 Platte. Two men on horseback approached us one 
 morning, and we watched t'hem v/ith the curiosity 
 and interest that, upon the sohtude of the plains, 
 such an encounter always excites. They were evi- 
 dently 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 from trouble but the approach 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, leaving their rifles, 
 with characteristic 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 apparently defence- 
 less, one of the rascals seized the bridle of Turner's 
 fine horse, and ordered him to dismount. Turner 
 was wholly unarmed ; but the other jerked a little 
 revolving pistol out of his pocket, at which the 
 Pawnee recoiled ; and just 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 persisting 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 Pawnee trail, leading 
 from their villages on the Platte to their war and 
 hunting grounds to the southward. Here every 
 summer pass the motley concourse ; thousands of 
 
THE PLATTE AND THE DESERT. 6/ 
 
 savages, men, women, and children, horses and 
 mules, laden v.'ith their weapons and implements, 
 and an innumerable multitude of unruly wolfish 
 dogs, who have not acquired the civilized accom- 
 plishment of barking, but howl like their wild 
 cousins of the prairie. 
 
 The permanent winter villages of the Pawnees 
 stand on the lower Platte, but throughout the sum- 
 mer the greater part of the inhabitants are wander- 
 ing over the plains, a treacherous, cowardly ban- 
 ditti who, by a thousand acts of pillage and murder, 
 have deserved summary chastisement at the hands 
 of government. Last year a Dahcotah warrior per- 
 formed a signal exploit at one of these villages. 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, he looked 
 in at the round hole made at the top for the escape 
 of smoke. The dusky light from the smouldering 
 embers showed him the forms of the sleeping in- 
 mates ; and dropping lightly through the opening, 
 he unsheathed his knife, and stirring the fire, coolly 
 selected his victims. One by one, he stabbed 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 in a moment had darted out upon the 
 dark prairie, leaving the whole village behind him 
 in a tumult, with the howling and baying of 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 achieve- 
 ment. He and his men were good woodsmen, and 
 well skilled in the use of the rifle ; but found them- 
 selves wholly out of their element on the prairie. 
 None of them had ever seen a buffalo ; and they 
 
68 THE OREGON TRAIL. 
 
 had very vague conceptions of his nature and ap- 
 pearance. On the day after they reached the 
 Platte, looking toward a distant swell, they beheld a 
 multitude of httle black specks in motion upon its 
 surface. 
 
 "Take your rifles, boys, " said Kearsley, "and 
 we'll have fresh meat for supper." This induce- 
 ment was quite sufficient. The ten men left their 
 wagons, and set out in hot haste, some on horse- 
 back and some on foot, in pursuit of the sup- 
 posed buffalo. Meanwhile a high grassy ridge shut 
 the game from view ; but mounting it after half an 
 hour's running and riding, they found themselves 
 suddenly confronted by about thirty mounted Paw- 
 nees ! The amazement and consternation were 
 mutual. Having nothing but their bows and ar- 
 rows, the Indians thought their hour was come, and 
 the fate that they were no doubt conscious of richly 
 deserving about to overtake them. So they began, 
 one and all, to shout forth the most cordial saluta- 
 tions of friendship, running up with extreme ear- 
 nestness to shake hands with the Missourians, who 
 were as much rejoiced as they were to escape the 
 expected conflict. 
 
 A low undulating line of sand-hills bounded the 
 horizon before us. That day we rode ten consecu- 
 tive 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 Platte lay before us. We all drew 
 rein, and gathering in a knot on the crest of the 
 hill, sat joyfully looking down upon the prospect. 
 It was right welcome ; strange, too, and striking to 
 the imagination, and yet it had not one picturesque 
 or beautiful feature ; nor had it any of the feat- 
 ures of grandeur, other than its vast extent, its 
 solitude, and its wildness. For league after league 
 
THE PLATTE AND THE DESERT. 69 
 
 a plain as level as a frozen 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 in the 
 midst like a shadowy island, relieved the monotony 
 of the waste. No living thing was moving through- 
 out the vast landscape, except the lizards that darted 
 over the sand and through the rank grass and prickly- 
 pear, just at our feet. And yet stern and wild asso- 
 ciations gave a singular interest to the view ; for 
 here each man lives by the strength of his arm and 
 the valor of his heart. Here society is reduced to 
 its original elements, the whole fabric of art and 
 conventionality is struck rudely to pieces, and men 
 find themselves suddenly brought back to the wants 
 and resources of their original natures. 
 
 We had passed the more toilsome and monoto- 
 nous part of the journey ; but four hundred miles 
 still intervened between us and Fort Laramie ; and 
 to reach that point cost us the travel of three addi- 
 tional weeks. During the whole of this time we 
 were passing up the centre 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 — "The Great American 
 Desert" — extending for hundreds of miles to the 
 Arkansas on the one side, and the Missouri on the 
 other. Before us 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. Huge skulls and whitening bones of 
 buffalo were scattered ever)'where ; the ground was 
 tracked by myriads of them, and often covered with 
 
70 THE OREGON TRAIL. 
 
 the circular indentations where the bulls had wal- 
 lowed in the hot weather. From every gorge and 
 ravine opening from the hills descended deep, 
 well-worn paths, where the buffalo issue twice a day 
 in regular procession down to drink in the Platte. 
 The river itself runs through the midst, a thin sheet 
 of rapid, turbid water, half a mile wide, and scarce 
 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 
 scarce 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-hides. His attire consisted merely of a 
 scanty cincture, and an old buffalo-robe, tattered 
 and begrimed by use, which hung over his shoul- 
 ders. His head was close -shaven, except a ridge 
 of hair reaching over the crown from the centre 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 en- 
 countered the day before, and belonged to a large 
 hunting party, known to be ranging the prairie in 
 the vicinity. They strode rapidly past, within a 
 furlong of our tents, not pausing or looking toward 
 
THE PLATTE AND THE DESERT. /I 
 
 us, after the manner of Indians when meditating 
 mischief or conscious of ill desert. I went out and 
 met them ; and had an amicable conference with the 
 chief, presenting him with half a pound of tobacco, 
 at which unmerited bounty he expressed much grati- 
 fication. These fellows, or some of their com- 
 panions, had committed a dastardly outrage upon 
 an emigrant party in advance of us. Two men, 
 out on horseback at a distance, were seized by them, 
 but lashing their horses, they broke loose and fled. 
 At this the Pawnees raised the yell and shot at 
 them, transfixing the hindermost 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. 
 
 The reader will recollect Turner, the man whose 
 narrow escape was mentioned not long since. We 
 heard that the men, whom the entreaties of his wife 
 induced to go in search of him, found him leisurely 
 driving along his recovered oxen, and whistling in 
 utter contempt of the Pawnee nation. His party 
 was encamped within two miles of us ; but we passed 
 them that morning, while the men were driving in 
 the oxen, and the women packing their domestic 
 utensils and their numerous offspring in the spacious 
 patriarchal wagons. As we looked back we saw 
 their caravan dragging its slow length along the 
 plain ; wearily toiling on its way to found new em- 
 pires in the West. 
 
 Our New England climate is mild and equable 
 compared with that of the Platte. This very morn- 
 ing, for instance, was close and sultry, the sun rising 
 with a faint oppressive heat ; when suddenly dark- 
 ness gathered in the west, and a furious blast of sleet 
 and hail drove full in our faces, icy cold, and urged 
 
72 THE OREGON TRAIL. 
 
 with such demoniac vehemence that it felt like a 
 storm of needles. It was curious to see the horses ; 
 they faced about in extreme displeasure, holding 
 their tails like whipped dogs, and shivering 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 
 brown snow-birds driven by a winter tempest. Thus 
 we all remained stationary for some minutes, crouch- 
 ing close to our horses' necks, much too surly to 
 speak, though once the Captain looked up from be- 
 tween 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 hom.e. The thing was too 
 good to last long ; and the instant the puffs of wind 
 subsided we erected our tents, and remained in 
 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 trading 
 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 brutish expression, as if their owner m^ight be 
 the willing agent of any villany. And such in fact 
 is the character of many of these men. 
 
 On the day following Ave overtook Kearsley's 
 wagons, and thenceforward, for a week or two, we 
 
THE BUFFALO. 73 
 
 were fellow-travellers. One good effect, at least, 
 resulted from the alliance ; it materially diminished 
 the serious fatigues of standing guard ; for the party 
 being now more numerous, there were longer inter- 
 vals between each man's turns of duty. 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 THE BUFFALO. 
 
 " Twice twenty leagues 
 Beyond remotest smoke of hunter's camp, 
 Roams the majestic brute, in herds that shake 
 The earth with thundering steps."— BRYANT. 
 
 Four days on the Platte, and yet no buffalo ! 
 Last year's signs of them were provokingly abun- 
 dant ; and wood being extremely scarce, we found 
 an admirable substitute in the bois de vache, which 
 burns exactly like peat, producing no unpleasant 
 effects. The wagons one morning had left the 
 camp ; Shaw and 1 were already on horseback, 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 (whom, from 
 an exaggerated appreciation of his merits, he had 
 christened "Five Hundred Dollar"), and then 
 mounted with a melancholy air. 
 
 " What 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 
 
74 THE OREGON TRAIL. 
 
 two on the right, the tall white wagons and the lit- 
 tle 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 horses' bellies ; it swayed 
 to and fro in billows with the light breeze, and far 
 and near antelope and wolves were moving through 
 it, the hairy backs of the latter alternately appear- 
 ing 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 the sur- 
 rounding landscape ; at length he gave a shout, and 
 called on me to mount again, pointing in the direc- 
 tion of the sand-hills. A mile and a half from us 
 two minute black specks slowly traversed the face 
 of one of the bare glaring declivities, and disap- 
 peared behind the summit. "Let us go!" cried 
 Henry, belaboring the sides of "Five Hundred 
 Dollar ' ' ; 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 sur- 
 rounded 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 numberless 
 ravines ; and as the sky had suddenly darkened, 
 and a cold gusty wind arisen, the strange shrubs 
 
THE BUFFALO. 75 
 
 and the dreary hills looked doubly wild and deso- 
 late. But Henry's face was all eagerness. He tore 
 off a little hair from the piece of buffalo-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 necessary to 
 make our best speed to get round them. 
 
 We scrambled from this ravine, and galloping 
 away through the hollows, soon found another, 
 winding like a snake among the hills, and so deep 
 that it completely concealed us. We rode up the 
 bottom of it, glancing through the shrubbeiy 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 procession 
 of buffalo were walking, in Indian file, with the 
 utmost gravity and deliberation ; then more ap- 
 peared, 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 appeared issuing 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, toward his unsuspecting victims. 
 He had with him both my rifle and his own. He 
 was soon out of sight, and still the buffalo kept issu- 
 ing 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 trot, 
 gradually disappeared over the ridge of the hill. 
 Henry rose to his feet, and stood looking after them. 
 
 •' You have missed them," said I. 
 
^6 THE OREGON TRAIL. 
 
 "Yes," said Henry; "let us go." He de- 
 scended 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 the top, 
 but lying on the grass, not far off, was one quite 
 lifeless, and another violently struggling in the 
 death agony. 
 
 "You see I miss him !" remarked Henry. He 
 had fired from a distance of more than a hundred 
 and fifty yards, and both balls had passed through 
 the lungs ; the true mark in 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 endeavored to imitate him. Old 
 Hendrick recoiled with horror and indignation when 
 I endeavored to tie the meat to the strings of raw- 
 hide, always carried for this purpose, dangling at 
 the back of the 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 
 sunset. 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 this 
 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- 
 
THE BUFFALO. J J 
 
 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 dismal whistling in the 
 boughs of three old half-dead trees above. Shaw, 
 like a patriarch, sat on his saddle in the entrance, 
 with a pipe in his mouth, and his arms folded, con- 
 templating, 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 ex- 
 cused himself on that account from waylaying an 
 old buffalo-bull, who with stupid gravity was walking 
 over the prairie to drink at the river. So much for 
 the climate of the Platte ! 
 
 But it was not the weather alone that had pro- 
 duced 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 amaze- 
 ment at the feats of Sorel, who went leaping ravines, 
 and dashing at full speed up and down the sides of 
 precipitous hills, lashing his horse with the reckless- 
 ness of a Rocky Mountain rider. Unfortunately for 
 the poor animal, he was the property of R., against 
 whom Sorel entertained an unbounded aversion. 
 The Captain himself, it seemed, had also attempted 
 
y^ THE OREGON TRAIL. 
 
 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. 
 
 Nothing unusual occurred on that day ; but on 
 the following morning, Henry Chatillon, looking 
 over the ocean-like expanse, saw near the foot of 
 the distant hills something that looked like a band 
 of buffalo. He was not sure, he said, but at all 
 events, if they were buffalo, there was a fine chance 
 for a race. Shaw and I at once determined to try 
 the speed of our horses. 
 
 " Come, Captain ; we'll see which can ride hard- 
 est, a Yankee or an Irishman." 
 
 But the Captain maintained a grave and austere 
 countenance. He mounted his led horse, however, 
 though very slowly ; and we set out at a trot. The 
 game appeared about three miles distant. As we 
 proceeded, the Captain made various remarks of 
 doubt and indecision ; and at length declared he 
 would have nothing to do with such a break-neck 
 business ; protesting that he had ridden plenty of 
 steeple-chases in his day, but he never knew what 
 riding was till he found himself behind a band of 
 buffalo day before yesterday. " I am convinced," 
 said the Captain, ' ' that ' running ' is out of the 
 question.* Take my advice now, and don't attempt 
 it. It's dangerous, and of no use at all." 
 
 " Then why did you come out with us ? What do 
 you mean to do ?' ' 
 
 '• I shall 'approach,' " replied the Captain. 
 
 "You don't mean to 'approach' with your pis- 
 
 * The method of hunting called "running" consists in 
 attacking the buffalo on horseback, and shooting him with 
 bullets or arrows when at full speed. In "approaching" 
 the hunter conceals himself, and crawls on the ground to- 
 ward the game, or lies in wait to kill them. 
 
THE BUFFALO. yg 
 
 tols, do you ? We have all of us left our rifles in 
 the wagons." 
 
 The Captain seemed staggered at this suggestion. 
 In his characteristic indecision at setting out, 
 pistols, rifles, "running," and "approaching" were 
 mingled in an inextricable medley in his brain. He 
 trotted on in silence between us for a while ; but at 
 length he dropped behind, and slowly walked his 
 horse back to rejoin the party. Shaw and I kept 
 on ; when lo ! as we advanced, the band of buffalo 
 were transformed into certain clumps of tall bushes, 
 dotting the prairie for a considerable distance. At 
 this ludicrous termination of our chase we followed 
 the example of our late ally, and turned back 
 toward the party. We were skirting the brink of a 
 deep ravine, when we saw Henry and the broad- 
 chested pony coming toward us at a gallop. 
 
 " Here's old Papin and Frederic, down from Fort 
 Laramie !" shouted Henry, long before he came up. 
 We had for some days expected this encounter. 
 Papin was the boui^geois of Fort Laramie. He had 
 come down the river with the buffalo-robes and the 
 beaver, the produce of the last winter's trading. I 
 had among our baggage a letter which I wished to 
 commit to their hands ; so requesting Henry 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 the 
 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 upward 
 
8o THE OREGON TRAIL. 
 
 to look as I reached the bank. Papin sat in the mid- 
 dle of one of the boats, upon the canvas covering that 
 protected the robes. He was a stout, robust fellow, 
 with a little gray eye that had a peculiarly sly twinkle, 
 "Frederic," also, stretched his tall raw-boned pro- 
 portions 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 saturated with red paint, and be- 
 plastered with glue to their temples ; and one be- 
 daubed 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 savage 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 the river was grow- 
 ing daily more shallow. Fifty times a day the boats 
 had been aground : indeed, those who navigate the 
 Platte invariably spend half their time upon sand- 
 bars. Two of these boats, the property of private 
 traders, afterward separating from the rest, got hope- 
 lessly 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 considered 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 there was an over- 
 grown boy, some eighteen years old, with a head 
 
THE BUFFALO. 8 1 
 
 as round and about as large as a pumpkin, and 
 fever-and-ague fits had dyed his face of a corre- 
 sponding color. He wore an old white hat, tied 
 under his chin with a handkerchief ; his body was 
 short and stout, but his legs of disproportioned and 
 appalling length. I observed him at sunset breast- 
 ing 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 scream- 
 ing frantically behind the ridge, and nothing doubt- 
 ing 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 outcries, however, proved 
 but an ebullition of joyous excitement ; he had chased 
 two little wolf pups to their burrow, and he 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 his 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 
 mischief was anticipated until the sun rose, and 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 until the cattle could be 
 searched for, and, if possible, recovered. But the 
 reader may be curious to know what punishment 
 
82 THE OREGON TRAIL. 
 
 awaited the faithless Tom. By the wholesome law 
 of the prairie, he who falls asleep on guard is con- 
 demned 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 offender. 
 Nevertheless, 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 henceforward his slumbers 
 were unbroken. Establishing such a premium on 
 drowsiness could have no very beneficial effect 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 butt of a rifle 
 nudging 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 se- 
 clusion ; but there might be more behind the hills. 
 Dreading the monotony and languor of the camp, 
 Shaw and I saddled 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 conducting us, carried 
 his rifle with him, while we left ours behind as in- 
 cumbrances. 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. ' ' 
 
THE BUFFALO. 83 
 
 There was some foundation for such an appre- 
 hension, 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 ad- 
 vance, we saw a band of bulls. Some were scat- 
 tered grazing over a green declivity, while the rest 
 were crowded more densely together in the wide 
 hollow below. Making a circuit, to keep out of 
 sight, we rode toward them, until we ascended a 
 hill, within a furlong of them, beyond which nothing 
 intervened that could possibly screen us from their 
 view. We dismounted behind the ridge just out of 
 sight, drew our saddle-girths, examined our pistols, 
 and mounting again, rode over the hill, and de- 
 scended at a canter toward 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 in motion, shoul- 
 dering each other along at a clumsy gallop. We 
 followed, spurring our horses to full speed ; and as 
 the herd rushed, crowding and trampling in terror 
 through an opening in the hills, we were close at 
 their heels, half suffocated by the clouds of dust. 
 But as we drew near their alarm and speed in- 
 creased ; our horses 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 
 Pontiac ran like a frantic elephant up hill and down 
 hill, his ponderous hoofs striking the prairie like 
 sledge-hammers. He showed a curious mixture of 
 eagerness and terror, straining to overtake the panic- 
 stricken herd, but constantly recoiling in dismay as 
 
84 THE OREGON TRAIL. 
 
 we drew near. The fugitives, indeed, offered no 
 very attractive spectacle, with their enormous size 
 and weight, 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 along-side, I 
 shot a bullet into the buffalo from this disadvan- 
 tageous position. At the report, Pontiac swerved 
 so much that I was again thrown a 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 certainly escape. 
 The herd ran up a hill, and I follov/ed 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 shout- 
 ing 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, I rode him that morning 
 with a common snaffle, having the day before, for 
 the benefit of my other horse, unbuckled from my 
 bridle the curb which I ordinarily 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 uncontrollable. 
 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 
 
THE BUFFALO. 85 
 
 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, 1 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 buf- 
 falo in such circumstances will always do ; he slack- 
 ened his gallop, and turning toward 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 throwing me to 
 the ground, as 1 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 determined to rejoin my com- 
 panions. It was high time. The breath blew hard 
 from Pontiac' s nostrils, and the sweat rolled in big 
 drops down his sides ; I myself felt as if drenched in 
 warm water. Pledging myself (and I redeemed the 
 pledge) to take my revenge at a future opportunity, 1 
 looked around for some indications to show me where 
 I was, and what course I ought to pursue ; I might 
 as well have looked for landmarks in 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 
 sins^le distinctive feature to guide me. I had a little 
 
86 THE OREGON TRAIL. 
 
 compass hung at my neck ; and ignorant that the 
 Platte at this point diverged considerably from its 
 easterly course, 1 thought that by keeping to the 
 northward I should certainly reach it. So I turned 
 and rode about two hours in that direction. The 
 prairie changed as I advanced, softening away into 
 easier undulations, but nothing like the Platte ap- 
 peared, nor any sign of a human being ; the same 
 wild endless expanse lay around me still ; and to all 
 appearance I was as far from my object as ever. I 
 began now to consider myself in danger of being 
 lost ; and therefore, reining in my horse, summoned 
 the scanty share of woodcraft that 1 possessed (if 
 that term be applicable upon the prairie) to extricate 
 me. Looking around, it occurred to me that the 
 buffalo might prove my best guides. I soon found 
 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 direc- 
 tion it indicated, his freer gait and erected ears 
 assured me that I was right. 
 
 But in the meantime my ride had been by no 
 means a solitar}^ one. The whole face of the coun- 
 try was dotted far and wide with countless hundreds 
 of buffalo. They trooped along in files and columns, 
 bulls, cows, and calves, on the green faces of the 
 declivities in front. They scrambled away over the 
 hills to the right and left ; and far off, the pale blue 
 swells in the extreme distance were 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 me through their tangled manes, 
 and then gallop heavily away. The antelope were 
 very numerous ; and as they are always bold when 
 in the neighborhood of buffalo, they would ap- 
 proach quite near to look at me, gazing intently 
 
THE BUFFALO. Sy 
 
 with their great round eyes, then suddenly leap 
 aside, and stretch lightly 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 his paws before him in a supplicating attitude, 
 and yelping away most vehemently, energetically 
 whisking his little tail with every squeaking cry he ut- 
 tered. Prairie-dogs are not fastidious in their choice 
 of companions ; various long, checkered snakes were 
 sunning themselves in the midst of the village, and 
 demure little gray owls, with a large white ring 
 around each eye, were perched side by side with 
 the rightful 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 buffalo. There was nothing in human shape 
 amid all this vast congregation of brute forms. 
 
 When I turned down the buffalo-path the prairie 
 seemed changed ; only a wolf or two glided past at 
 intervals, like conscious felons, never looking to the 
 right or left. Being now free from anxiety, 1 was at 
 leisure to observe 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 butterflies fluttered about my 
 horse's head ; strangely formed beetles, glittering 
 with metallic lustre, were crawling upon plants that 
 I had never seen before ; multitudes of lizards, too, 
 v/ere darting like Hghtning over the sand. 
 
 I had run to a great distance from the river. It 
 cost me a long ride on the buffalo-path before 1 saw, 
 from the ridge of a sand-hill, the pale surface of 
 the Platte glistening in the midst of its desert val- 
 
88 THE OREGON TRAIL. 
 
 leys, and the faint outline of the hills beyond wav- 
 ing along the sky. From where I stood not a tree 
 nor a bush nor a living thing v/as visible throughout 
 the whole extent of the sun-scorched landscape. 
 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 Pon- 
 tiac's long swinging trot again assuring me that I 
 was right 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 waiting 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 m.e awhile in the 
 morning, but well knowing the futility of the at- 
 tempt 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 laid 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. 
 
 " June 7, 1846, — Four men are missing: R., Sorel, and 
 two emigrants. They set out this morning after buffalo, and 
 have not yet made their appearance ; whether killed or lost, 
 we cannot tell." 
 
 I find the above in my note-book, and well re- 
 member the council held on the occasion. Our fire 
 was the scene of it ; for the palpable superiority of 
 Henry Chatillon's experience and skill made him 
 
THE BUFFALO. 89 
 
 the resort of the whole canip 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 emigrants came - straggling 
 from their wagons toward the common centre ; 
 various suggestions 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 
 immediately expressed a thorough coincidence. 
 Henry would not commit himself by declaring any 
 positive opinion : 
 
 ' ' Maybe he only follow the buffalo too far ; 
 maybe Indian kill him ; maybe he got lost ; I can- 
 not tell !" 
 
 With this the auditors were obliged to rest con- 
 tent ; 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. 
 
 " It will be a bad thing for our plans," said he as 
 we entered, "if these fellows don't get back safe. 
 The Captain is as helpless on the prairie as a child. 
 We shall have to take him and his brother in tow; 
 they will hang on us like lead. ' ' 
 
 "The prairie is a strange place," said I. "A 
 month ago I should have thought it rather a start- 
 ling affair to have an acquaintance ride out in the 
 morning and lose his scalp before night, but here it 
 
90 THE OREGON TRAIL. 
 
 seems the most natural thing in the world ; not that 
 I believe that R. has lost his yet." 
 
 If a man is constitutionally liable to nervous appre- 
 hensions, a tour on the distant prairies would prove 
 the best prescription ; for though when in the neigh- 
 borhood of the Rocky Mountains he may at times find 
 himself placed in circumstances of some danger, I be- 
 lieve that few ever breathe that reckless atmosphere 
 without becoming almost indifferent to any evil 
 chance that may befall themselves or their friends. 
 
 Shaw had a propensity for luxurious indulgence. 
 He spread his blanket with the utmiost accuracy on 
 the ground, picked up the sticks and stones that he 
 thought might interfere with his comfort, adjusted 
 his saddle to serve as a pillow, and composed him- 
 self for his night's rest. I had the first guard that 
 evening ; so, taking my rifle, I went out of the tent. 
 It was perfectly dark. A brisk wind blew down 
 from the hills, and the sparks from the fire were 
 streaming over the prairie. One of the emigrants, 
 named Morton, was my companion ; and laying 
 our rifles on the grass we sat down together by the 
 fire. Morton was a Kentuckian, an athletic fellow, 
 with a fine, intelligent face, and in his manners and 
 conversation he showed the essential characteristics 
 of a gentleman. Our conversation turned on the 
 pioneers of his gallant native state. The three 
 hours of our watch dragged away at last, and we 
 went to call up the relief. 
 
 R.'s guard succeeded mine. He was absent ; 
 but the Captain, anxious lest the camp should be 
 left defenceless, had volunteered to stand in his 
 place ; so I went to wake him up. There was no 
 occasion for it, for the Captain had been awake since 
 nightfall. A fire v/as blazing outside of the tent, 
 and by the light which struck through the canvas I 
 saw him and Jack lying on their backs with their 
 
TAKING FRENCH LEAVE. 9 1 
 
 eyes wide open. The Captain responded instantly 
 to my call ; he jumped up, seized the double-bar- 
 relled rifle, and came out of the tent with an air of 
 solemn determination, as if about to devote him- 
 self to the safety of the party. I went and lay 
 down, not doubting that for the next three hours our 
 slumbers would be guarded with sufficient vigilance. 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 TAKING FRENCH LEAVE. 
 " Parting is such sweet sorrow !"— RoMEO AND JULIET. 
 
 On the eighth of June, at eleven o'clock, we 
 reached the South Fork of the Platte, at the usual 
 fording-place. For league upon league the desert 
 uniformity of the prospect was 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 sand-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 gathered bois de vac he, 
 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 us we could discern a 
 group of men and animals at the water's edge. 
 Four or five horsemen soon entered the river, and 
 in ten minutes had waded across and clambered up 
 the loose sand-bank. They were ill-looking fellows. 
 
92 THE OREGON TRAIL. 
 
 thin and swarthy, with care-worn, anxious faces, and 
 Hps rigidly compressed. They had good cause for 
 anxiety ; it was three days since they first encamped 
 here, and on the night of their arrival they had lost 
 one hundred and twenty-three of their best cattle, 
 driven off by the wolves, through the neglect of the 
 man on guard. This discouraging and 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 ; one man had been killed by the Pawnees ; 
 and about a week before they had been plundered 
 by the Dahcotahs of all their best horses, the 
 wretched animals on which our visitors were mounted 
 being the only ones that were left. They had en- 
 camped, they told us, near sunset, by the side of 
 the Platte, and their oxen were scattered over the 
 meadow, while the band of 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 number, who, with a tremendous 
 yell, came pouring down toward the camp, rushing 
 up within a few rods, to the great terror of the emi- 
 grants ; but suddenly wheeling, they swept around 
 the band of horses, and in five minutes had dis- 
 appeared with their prey through the openings of 
 the hills. 
 
 As these emigrants were telling their story, we 
 saw four 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 " ; 
 and both R. and Sorel had meat dangling behind 
 their saddles. 
 
 The emigrants recrossed the river, and we pre- 
 pared to follow. First the heavy ox-wagons plunged 
 
TAKING FRENCH LEAVE. 93 
 
 down the bank, and dragged slowly over the sand- 
 beds ; sometimes the hoofs of the oxen were scarcely 
 wetted by the thin sheet of water ; and the next 
 moment the river would be boiling against their 
 sides, and eddying fiercely around the wheels. Inch 
 by inch they receded from the shore, dwindling 
 ever)' moment, until at length they seemed to be 
 floating far out in the very middle of the river. A 
 more critical experiment awaited us ; for our little 
 mule-cart was but ill-fitted for the passage of so 
 swift a stream. We watched it with anxiety till it 
 seemed to be a little m.otionless white speck in the 
 midst of the waters ; and it was motionless, for it 
 had stuck fast in a quicksand. The little mules 
 were 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 m.en jumped into the 
 water, adding their strength to that of the mules, 
 until by much effort the cart was extricated and 
 conveyed in safety across. 
 
 As we gained the other bank a rough group of 
 men surrounded us. They were not robust, nor 
 large of frame, yet they had an aspect of hardy 
 endurance. Finding at home no scope for their 
 fier}^ energies, they had betaken themselves to the 
 prairie; and in them seemed to be revived, with 
 redoubled force, that fierce spirit which impelled 
 their ancestors, scarce more lav/less than them- 
 selves, from the German forests, to inundate Europe 
 and break to pieces the Roman Empire. A fort- 
 night afterward 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 
 
94 THE OREGON TRAIL. 
 
 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 
 sometimes see the shattered wrecks of ancient claw- 
 footed tables, well waxed and rubbed, or massive 
 bureaus of carved oak. These, many of them no 
 doubt the relics of ancestral prosperity in the colonial 
 time, must have encountered strange vicissitudes. 
 Imported, perhaps, originally from England ; then, 
 with the declining fortunes of their owners, borne 
 across the Alleghanies to the remote wilderness 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 cherished 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' 11 ' camp here !' ' 
 
 This was the only reply vouchsafed. Delorier 
 was in advance with his cart. Seeing the mule- 
 wagon wheeling from the track, he began to turn 
 his own team in the same direction. 
 
 "Go on, Delorier ;" and the little cart advanced 
 again. As we rode on we soon heard the wagon 
 of our confederates creaking and jolting on behind 
 us, and the driver, Wright, discharging a furious 
 volley of oaths against his mules ; no doubt venting 
 upon them the wrath v.'hich he dared not direct 
 against a more appropriate object. 
 
 Something of this sort had frequently occurred. 
 
TAKING FRENCH LEAVE. 95 
 
 Our English friend was by no means partial to us, 
 and we thought we discovered in his conduct a 
 deliberate intention to thwart and annoy us, es- 
 pecially by retarding the movements of the party, 
 which he knew that we, being Yankees, were anx- 
 ious to quicken. Therefore he would insist on 
 encamping at all unseasonable hours, saying that 
 fifteen miles was a sufficient day's journey. Find- 
 ing our wishes systematically disregarded, we took 
 the direction of affairs into our own hands. Keep- 
 ing always in advance, to the inexpressible indig- 
 nation of R., we encamped at what time and place 
 we thought proper, not much caring whether the 
 rest chose to follow or not. They always did so, 
 hoAvever, pitching their tent near ours, with sullen 
 and wrathful countenances. 
 
 Travelling together on these agreeable terms did 
 not suit our tastes ; for some time we had meditated 
 a separation. The connection with this party had 
 caused us various delays and inconveniences ; and 
 the glaring want of courtesy and good sense dis- 
 played by their virtual leader did not dispose us to 
 bear these annoyances with much patience. We 
 resolved to leave camp early in the morning, and 
 push forward as rapidly as possible for Fort Laramie, 
 which we hoped to reach, by hard travelling, in four 
 or five days. The Captain soon trotted up between 
 us, and we explained our intentions. 
 
 ' ' A very extraordinary proceeding, upon my 
 word !" he remarked. Then he began to enlarge 
 upon the enormity of the design. The most promi- 
 nent impression in his mind evidently was that we 
 were acting a base and treacherous part in deserting 
 his party, in what he considered a very dangerous 
 stage of the journey. To palliate the atrocity of 
 our conduct we ventured to suggest that we were 
 only four in number, while his party still included 
 
96 
 
 THE OREGON TRAIL. 
 
 sixteen men ; and as, moreover, we were to go for- 
 ward and they were to follow, at least a full propor- 
 tion of the perils he apprehended would fall upon 
 us. But the austerity of the Captain's features 
 would not relax. ' ' A very extraordinary proceed- 
 ing, gentlemen !" and repeating this, he rode off to 
 confer with his principal. 
 
 By good luck we found a meadow of fresh grass 
 and a large pool of rain-water in the midst of it. 
 We encamped here at sunset. Plenty of buffalo 
 skulls were lying around bleaching in the sun ; and 
 sprinkled thickly among the grass was a great va- 
 riety of strange flowers. I had nothing else to do, 
 and so, gathering a handful, I sat down on a buffalo 
 skull to study them. Although the offspring of a 
 wilderness, their texture was frail and delicate, and 
 their colors extremely rich : pure white, dark blue, 
 and a transparent crimson. One travelling in this 
 country seldom has leisure to think of anything but 
 the stern features of the scenery and its accompani- 
 ments, or the practical details of each day's jour- 
 ney. Like them, he and his thoughts grow hard 
 and rough. But now these flowers suddenly awak- 
 ened a train of associations as alien to the rude 
 scene around me as they were themselves ; and for 
 the moment my thoughts went back to New England. 
 A throng of fair and well-remembered faces rose, 
 vividly as life, before me. ' ' There are good things, 
 thought I, "in the savage life, but what can it offer 
 to replace those powerful and ennobling influences 
 that can reach unimpaired over more than three 
 thousand miles of mountains, forests, and deserts ?' ' 
 
 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 emigrants, who sincerely wished us a 
 safe journey, though some others of the party might 
 
TAKING FRENCH LEAVE. 97 
 
 easily have been consoled had we encountered an 
 Indian war-party on the way. The Captain and his 
 brother were standing on the top of a hill, wrapped 
 in their plaids, like spirits of the mist, keeping an 
 anxious eye on the band of horses below. We 
 waved adieu to them as we rode off the ground. 
 The Captain replied with a salutation of the utmost 
 dignity, which Jack tried to imitate ; but being little 
 practised in the gestures of polite society, his effort 
 was not a very successful one. 
 
 In five minutes we had gained the foot of the 
 hills, but here we came to a stop. Old Hendrick 
 was in the shafts, and being the very incarnation of 
 perverse and brutish obstinacy, he utterly refused to 
 move. Uelorier lashed and swore till he was tired, 
 but Hendrick stood like a rock, grumbling to him- 
 self and looking askance at his enemy, until he saw 
 a favorable opportunity to take his revenge, when 
 he struck out under the shaft with such cool malig- 
 nity of intention that Delorier only escaped the blow 
 by a sudden skip into the air, such as no one but a 
 Frenchman could achieve. Shaw 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 all at once he began to kick and 
 plunge till he threatened the utter demolition of the 
 cart and harness. We glanced back at the camp, 
 which 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 
 Hendrick ; the former was harnessed to the cart in 
 an instant. ' • Avaiice done r ' cried Delorier. Pon- 
 tiac strode up the hill, twitching the little cart after 
 him as if it were a feather's weight ; and though, as 
 we gained the top, we saw the wagons of our de- 
 7 
 
98 THE OREGON TRAIL. 
 
 serted 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 the best way we could. 
 Passing behind the sandy ravines called "Ash 
 Hollow," we stopped for a short nooning at the 
 side of a pool of rain-water ; but soon resumed our 
 journey, and some hours before sunset were de- 
 scending the ravines and gorges opening downward 
 upon the Platte to the 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. Following it for 
 about five miles, we saw, just as the sun was sink- 
 ing, a great meadow, dotted with hundreds of cattle, 
 and beyond them an emigrant encampment. A 
 party of about a dozen came out to meet us, looking 
 upon us at first with cold and suspicious faces. 
 Seeing four men, different in appearance and equip- 
 ment from themselves, emerging from the hills, they 
 had taken us for the van of the much-dreaded Mor- 
 mons, whom they were very apprehensive of encoun- 
 tering. 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 not unfrequently made by trappers and Indian 
 traders. We rode with them to their camp. The 
 wagons, some fifty in number, with here and there 
 a tent intervening, were arranged as usual in a 
 circle ; in the area within the best horses were pick- 
 eted, and the whole circumference was glowing with 
 the dusky light of the fires, displaying the forms of 
 
TAKING FRENCH LEAVE. 99 
 
 the women and children who were crowded around 
 them. This patriarchal scene was curious and 
 striking enough ; but we made our escape from the 
 place with all possible dispatch, being tormented by 
 the intrusive curiosity of the men, who crowded 
 around us. Yankee curiosity was nothing to theirs. 
 They demanded our names, where we came from, 
 where we were going, and what was our business. 
 The last query was particularly embarrassing ; since 
 travelling in that country, or indeed anywhere, from 
 any other motive than gain, was an idea of which 
 they took no cognizance. Yet they were fine-look- 
 ing fellows, with an air of frankness, generosity, and 
 even courtesy, having come from one of the least 
 barbarous of the frontier counties. 
 
 We passed about a mile beyond them and en- 
 camped. Being too few in number to stand guard 
 without excessive fatigue, we extinguished our fire, 
 lest it should attract the notice of wandering Indians ; 
 and picketing our horses close around us, slept un- 
 disturbed till morning. For three days we travelled 
 without interruption, and on the evening 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 keenly peering across the prairie 
 with a better and more practised eye, soon discov- 
 ered its real nature. "Indians!" he said. "Old 
 Smoke's lodges, I b'Heve. 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 
 
 .. L.ofC. 
 
lOO THE OREGON TRAIL. 
 
 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 
 toward us. When within a furlong he wheeled his 
 horse in a wide circle, and made him describe 
 various mystic figures upon the prairie ; and Henry 
 immediately compelled "Five Hundred Dollar" to 
 execute similar evolutions. "It is Old Smoke's 
 village," said he, interpreting 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 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 panting 
 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. Like most of his people, he was 
 nearly six feet high ; lithely and gracefully, yet 
 strongly proportioned ; and with 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 orna- 
 ment, in high vogue among the Dahcotahs, and for 
 which they pay the traders a most extravagant price ; 
 
TAKING FRENCH LEAVE. 1 01 
 
 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 moccasons 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 of 
 most singular construction ; it was made of wood 
 covered with raw-hide, and both pommel and cantle 
 rose perpendicularly full eighteen inches, so that the 
 warrior was wedged firmly in his seat, whence noth- 
 ing could dislodge him but the bursting of the girths. 
 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 we moved forward, tall savages 
 were stalking silently about us. At noon we reached 
 Horse Creek ; and as we waded through the shallow 
 water we saw a wild and striking scene. The main 
 body of the Indians had arrived before us. On the 
 farther bank stood a large and strong man, nearly 
 naked, holding a white horse by a long cord and eye- 
 ing us as we approached. This was the chief, whom 
 Henry called " Old Smoke." Just behind him, his 
 youngest and favorite squaw sat astride of a fine 
 mule ; it was covered with caparisons of whitened 
 skins, garnished with blue and white beads, and 
 fringed with little ornaments of m.etal 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 unchiv- 
 alrous lord, fluttering with feathers ; his round white 
 
102 THE OREGON TRAIL. 
 
 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, and ornamented 
 with beads, arrayed in figures more gay than taste- 
 ful, 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 shoulders, 
 gazing coldly upon us ; and in the rear, for several 
 acres, the ground was covered with a temporary en- 
 campment ; men, 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, screaming, and laughing in the 
 water. At the same time a long train of emigrant 
 wagons were crossing the creek, and dragging on in 
 their slow, heavy procession, passed the encamp- 
 ment 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 the heat of the day. None of the lodges 
 were erected ; but their heavy leather coverings, and 
 the long poles used to support them, were scattered 
 everywhere around, among weapons, domestic uten- 
 sils, and the rude harness of mules and horses. The 
 squaws of each lazy warrior had made him a shelter 
 from the sun by stretching a few buffalo-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 medi- 
 cine-bag, his bow and quiver, his lance and his pipe, 
 raised aloft on a tripod of three poles. Except the 
 dogs, the most active and noisy tenants of the camp 
 
TAKING FRENCH LEAVE. I03 
 
 were the old women, ugly as Macbeth' s witches, 
 with their hair streaming loose in the wind, and 
 nothing but the tattered fragment of an old buffalo- 
 robe to hide their shrivelled wiry limbs. The day 
 of their favoritism passed two generations ago ; now 
 the heaviest labors of the camp devolved upon them ; 
 they were to harness the horses, pitch the lodges, 
 dress the buffalo-robes, 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 listless tranquillity of the 
 warriors, the whole scene had an effect too lively 
 and picturesque ever to be forgotten. 
 
 We stopped not far from the Indian camp, and 
 having invited some of the chiefs and warriors to 
 dinner, placed before them a sumptuous repast of 
 biscuit and coffee. Squatted in a half circle on the 
 ground, they soon disposed of it. As we rode for- 
 ward on the afternoon journey, several of our late 
 guests accompanied us. Among the rest was a 
 huge bloated savage, of more than three hundred 
 pounds' weight, christened Le Coc/ion, in considera- 
 tion of his preposterous dimensions, and certain 
 corresponding traits of his character. " The Hog " 
 bestrode a little white pony, scarce 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 alternately 
 against his ribs. The old man was not a chief ; he 
 never had ambition enough to become one ; he was 
 not a warrior nor a hunter, for he was too fat and 
 lazy ; but he v/as the richest man in the whole vil- 
 lage. Riches among the Dahcotahs consist in 
 horses, and of these "The Hog" had accumulated 
 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, he shook me by 
 
I04 THE OREGON TRAIL. 
 
 the hand, and gave me to understand that he was a 
 very devoted friend ; and then he began a series of 
 most earnest signs and gesticulations, his oily coun- 
 tenance radiant with smiles, and his little eyes peep- 
 ing out with a cunning twinkle from between the 
 masses of flesh that almost obscured them. Know- 
 ing 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 
 matrimonial bargain. He said he had a very pretty 
 daughter in his lodge, whom he would give me, if 
 I would give him my horse. These flattering over- 
 tures 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 bluffs ; it was turbid and 
 swift as heretofore, but trees were growing on its 
 crumbling banks, and there was a nook of grass 
 between the water and the hill. Just before enter- 
 ing this place we saw the emigrants encamping at 
 two or three miles' distance on the right ; while the 
 whole Indian rabble were pouring down the neigh- 
 boring hill in hope of the same sort of entertain- 
 ment which they had experienced from us. In the 
 "savage landscape before our camp nothing but the 
 rushing of the Platte broke the silence. Through 
 the ragged 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. We lay around it wrapped in our 
 
TAKING FRENCH LEAVE. I05 
 
 blankets, smoking and conversing until a late hour, 
 and then withdrew to our tent. 
 
 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 apparently close beneath them, we 
 could discern in the distance something like a build- 
 ing. As we came nearer, it assumed form and di- 
 mensions, 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 been com- 
 pleted ; the place was now as ill-fitted for the pur- 
 poses of defence as any of those little log-houses 
 which upon our constantly-shifting frontier have 
 been so often successfully maintained against over- 
 whelming odds of Indians. Two lodges were 
 pitched close to the fort ; the sun beat scorching 
 upon the logs ; no living 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 pups, who were peeping with looks of 
 eager inquiry from under the covering. 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 of his head, and fell below his shoulders ; 
 he wore a tight frock of smoked deer-skin, very 
 gayly ornamented with figures worked in dyed por- 
 cupine-quills. His moccasons and leggings were 
 also gaudily adorned in the same manner ; and the 
 latter had in addition a line of long fringes, reach- 
 ing 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. 
 
I06 THE OREGON TRAIL. 
 
 There was no superfluity, and indeed there seldom 
 is among the active white men of this country, but 
 every hmb 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 Navaho slave, 
 a mean-looking fellow, taken prisoner on the Mexi- 
 can frontier ; and relieving us of our rifles with 
 ready politeness, led the way into the principal 
 apartment of his establishment. 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 buffalo-robes, upon which 
 lolled a tall half-breed, with his hair glued in masses 
 upon each temple, and saturated with vermilion. 
 Two or three more ' ' mountain men ' ' sat cross- 
 legged on the floor. Their attire was not unlike 
 that of Richard himself ; but the most striking 
 figure of the group was a naked Indian boy of six- 
 teen, with a handsome face, and light, active pro- 
 portions, who sat in an easy posture in the corner 
 near the door. Not one of his hmbs 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 these prairies the custom of smoking with 
 friends is seldom omitted, whether among Indians 
 or whites. The pipe, therefore, was taken from 
 the wall, and its great red bowl crammed with the 
 tobacco and shongsasha, mixed in suitable pro- 
 
TAKING FRENCH LEAVE. lO/ 
 
 portions. Then it passed round the circle, each 
 man inhahng 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, as the reader may conceive, we had 
 grown rather shabby ; our clothes had burst into 
 rags and tatters ; and what was worse, we had very 
 little means of renovation. Fort Laramie was but 
 seven miles before us. Being totally averse to ap- 
 pearing in such a plight among any society that 
 could boast an approximation to the civihzed, we 
 soon 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 perfonned our ablutions 
 in the Platte, though the utility of such a proceeding 
 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 
 stout branches and twigs. Having also put on 
 radiant moccasons, procured from a squaw of 
 Richard's establishment, and made what other im- 
 provements 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 toward the fort. 
 
 An hour elapsed. The barren hills closed across 
 our front, and we could see no farther, until having 
 surmounted them ; a rapid stream appeared at the 
 foot of the descent, running into the Platte ; beyond 
 was a green meadow, dotted with bushes, and in 
 the midst of these, at the point where the two rivers 
 
I08 THE OREGON TRAIL. 
 
 joined, were the low clay walls of a fort. This 
 was not Fort Laramie, but another 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 aloft seven thou- 
 sand feet, arose the grim Black Hills. 
 
 We tried to ford Laramie Creek at a point nearly 
 opposite the fort, but the stream, swollen with the 
 rains in the mountains, was too rapid. We passed 
 up along its bank to find a better crossing place. 
 Men gathered on the wall to look at us. " There'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 Cimoneau !" 
 This Cimoneau 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 approaching the bank with a countenance of 
 cool indifference, bracing his feet and sliding into 
 the stream with the most unmoved composure : 
 
 " At the first plunge the horse sunk low, 
 And the water broke o'er the saddle-bow." 
 
 We followed ; the water boiled against our sad- 
 dles, but our horses bore us easily through. The 
 unfortunate little mules came 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 
 
SCENES AT FORT LARAMIE. IO9 
 
 crossed a little plain, descended a hollow, and 
 riding up a steep bank, found ourselves before the 
 gateway of Fort Laramie, under the impending 
 blockhouse erected above it to defend the entrance. 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 SCENES AT FORT LARAMIE. 
 
 " 'Tis true they are a lawless brood, 
 But rough in form, nor mild in mood." 
 
 The Bride of Abydos. 
 
 Looking 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, enveloped in their white buffalo-robes, 
 were striding across the area or reclining at full 
 length on the low roofs of the buildings which in- 
 closed it. Numerous squaws, gayly bedizened, sat 
 grouped in front of the apartments they occupied ; 
 their mongrel offspring, restless and vociferous, 
 rambled in every direction through the fort ; and 
 the trappers, traders, and engages of the establish- 
 ment were busy at their labor or their amusements. 
 
 We were met at the gate, but by no means cor- 
 dially welcomed. Indeed, we seemed objects of 
 some distrust and suspicion, until Henry Chatillon 
 explained that we were not traders, and we, in con- 
 firmation, handed to the bourgeois a letter of intro- 
 duction 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 
 
no THE OREGON TRAIL. 
 
 Frenchman, named Montalon. The letter read, 
 Bordeaux (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 act as master of cere- 
 monies. 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 ; then he walked up 
 the steps, tramped along a rude balcony, and kick- 
 ing open a door, displayed a large room, rather 
 more elaborately finished than a barn. For furni- 
 ture it had a rough bedstead, but no bed ; two 
 chairs, a chest of drawers, a tin pail to hold water, 
 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, 
 Papin ; in whose absence the command devolved 
 upon Bordeaux. The latter, a stout, bluff little fel- 
 low, 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 long-looked-for haven at which we had ar- 
 rived at last. Beneath us was the square area sur- 
 rounded by little rooms, or rather cells, which 
 opened upon it. These were devoted to various 
 purposes, but served chiefly for the accommodation 
 
SCENES AT FORT LARAMIE. 1 1 I 
 
 of the men employed at the fort, or of the equally 
 numerous squaws whom they were allowed to main- 
 tain in it. Opposite to us rose the blockhouse above 
 the gateway ; it was adorned with a figure which 
 even now haunts my memory ; a horse at full speed, 
 daubed upon the boards with red paint, and exhib- 
 iting a degree of skill that might rival that displayed 
 by the Indians in executing similar designs upon 
 tneir 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 moun- 
 tains, and the Canadians were going through their 
 preparations with all possible bustle, while here and 
 there an Indian stood looking on with imperturbable 
 gravity. 
 
 Fort Laramie is one of the posts established by 
 the "American Fur Company," who well-nigh 
 monopolize the Indian trade of this whole region. 
 Here their 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 the eastward. 
 The little fort is built of bricks dried in the sun, and 
 externally is of an oblong form, with bastions of 
 clay, in the form of ordinary blockhouses, at two of 
 the corners. The walls are about fifteen feet high, 
 and surmounted by a slender pahsade. The roofs 
 of the apartments 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 the corral, a narrow place, encompassed 
 by the high clay walls, where at night, or in pres- 
 ence of dangerous Indians, the horses and mules of 
 the fort are crowded for safe keeping. The main 
 entrance has two gates, with an arched passage 
 
112 THE OREGON TRAIL. 
 
 intervening. A little square window, quite high 
 above the ground, opens laterally from an adjoining 
 chamber into this passage ; so that when the inner 
 gate is closed and barred, a person without may- 
 still hold communication with those within, through 
 this narrow aperture. This obviates the necessity 
 of admitting suspicious Indians, for purposes of 
 trading, into the body of the fort ; for when danger 
 is apprehended the inner gate is shut fast, and all 
 traffic is carried on by means of the little window. 
 This precaution, though highly necessary at some 
 of the company's posts, is now seldom resorted to 
 at Fort Laramie ; where, though men are frequently 
 killed in its neighborhood, no apprehensions are 
 now entertained of any general designs of hostility 
 from the Indians. 
 
 We did not long enjoy our new quarters undis- 
 turbed. 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 hue ; and letting fall their heavy robes from 
 their shoulders, they took their seats, quite at ease, 
 in a semicircle before us. The pipe was now to be 
 lighted and passed round from one to another ; and 
 this was the only entertainment 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 
 neither by their years nor their exploits were en- 
 titled to rank with the old men and warriors, and 
 who, abashed in the presence of their superiors, 
 
SCENES AT FORT LARAMIE. I I 3 
 
 stood aloof, never withdrawing their eyes from us. 
 Their cheeks were adorned with vermiHon, their 
 ears with pendants of shell, and their necks with 
 beads. Never yet having signalized themselves as 
 hunters, or performed the honorable exploit of kill- 
 ing 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 everything 
 in the room ; our equipments and our dress alike 
 underwent their scrutiny ; for though the contrary 
 has been carelessly asserted, few beings have more 
 curiosity than Indians in regard to subjects within 
 their ordinary range of thought. As to other mat- 
 ters, 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 solution, an Indian never 
 is at a loss. He never launches forth into specula- 
 tion 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 rouse it. 
 
 As we were looking, at sunset, from the wall, 
 upon the wild and desolate plains that surround the 
 fort, we observed a cluster of strange objects, like 
 scaffolds, rising in the distance 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 sepulture 
 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, 
 
114 ^-^^ OREGON TRAIL. 
 
 that war-parties of the Crow Indians, ranging 
 through the country, have thrown the bodies from 
 the scaffolds, and broken them to pieces, amid the 
 yells of the Dahcotahs, who remained pent up in 
 the fort, too few to defend the honored relics from in- 
 sult. The white obj ects 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 approaching the fort. These 
 were the animals 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 little 
 gate opened into this inclosure : by the side of it 
 stood one of the guards, an old Canadian, with 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 of him, 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 co7'ral 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. 
 This sumptuous repast was served on a rough table 
 in one of the lower apartments of the fort, and con- 
 sisted of cakes of bread and dried buffalo-meat — an 
 excellent thing for strengthening the teeth. At this 
 meal were seated the bourgeois and superior digni- 
 taries 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 hunters and trappers of an 
 inferior standing ; while the ordinary Canadian 
 
SCENES AT FORT LARAMIE. II5 
 
 engages were regaled 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 current 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. Old Pierre, in the kindness of his heart, used 
 to select the fattest and the best pieces for his com- 
 panions. This did not long escape the keen-eyed 
 bourgeois, who was greatly disturbed at such im- 
 providence, and cast about for some 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 other communi- 
 cation 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 
 suddenly a hollow and sepulchral voice proceeded 
 from the inner apartment : " 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 thresh- 
 old, 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 out of two 
 sticks, were proceeding to attack the devil in his 
 stronghold, when the bourgeois, with a crestfallen 
 
Il6 THE OREGON TRAIL. 
 
 countenance, appeared at the door. To add to the 
 bourgeois s mortification, he was obhged to explain 
 the whole stratagem to Pierre in order to bring the 
 latter to his senses. 
 
 We were sitting, on the following morning, in the 
 passageway between the gates, conversing with the 
 traders Vaskiss and May. These two men, together 
 with our sleek friend, the clerk Montalon, 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, diminu- 
 tive Indian, wretchedly mounted, came up at a 
 gallop, and rode past us into the fort. On 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 finished his story ; and by that time 
 the whole array had descended to Laramie Creek, 
 and commenced crossing 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 erecting the lodges are carried by the horses, 
 being 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 
 superannuated old man. Numbers of these curious 
 vehicles, called, in the bastard language of the 
 country, travaux, were now splashing together 
 
SCENES AT FORT LARAMIE. W] 
 
 through the stream. Among them swam countless 
 dogs, often burdened with miniature travatix ; and 
 dashing forward on horseback through the throng 
 came the superbly formed 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 over- 
 burdened horses. The confusion was prodigious. 
 The dogs yelled and howled in chorus ; the puppies 
 in the travatix 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 water rushing so near 
 them, sputtering and making wry m.ouths 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 break- 
 ing away at full speed through the crowd, followed 
 by the old hags, screaming, after their fashion, on 
 all occasions of excitement. 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 scattered 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 men, and the children were v/hooping 
 and yelling incessantly under the walls. 
 
Il8 THE OREGON TRAIL. 
 
 These new-comers were scarcely arrived, when 
 Bordeaux was running across the fort, shouting to 
 his squaw to bring him his spy-glass. The obedient 
 Marie, the very model of a squaw, produced the 
 instrument, and Bordeaux hurried with it up to the 
 wall. Pointing it to the 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 ad- 
 vancing from the hills. They gained the river, and 
 without turning or pausing plunged in ; they passed 
 through, and slowly ascending the opposing bank, 
 kept directly on their way past the fort and the 
 Indian village, until, gaining a spot a quarter of a 
 mile distant, they wheeled into a circle. For some 
 time our tranquillity was undisturbed. The emi- 
 grants were preparing their encampment ; but no 
 sooner was this accomplished, than Fort Laramie 
 was fairly taken by storm. A crowd of broad- 
 brimmed hats, thin visages, and staring eyes ap- 
 peared suddenly at the gate. Tall, awkward men, 
 in brown homespun ; women with cadaverous faces 
 and long lank figures, came thronging in together, 
 and, as if inspired by the very demon of curiosity, 
 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 
 an inviolable sanctuary. The emigrants prosecuted 
 their investigations with untiring vigor. They pene- 
 trated the rooms, or rather dens, inhabited by the 
 astonished squaws. They explored the apartments 
 of the men, and even that of Marie and the bom'- 
 geois. At last a numerous deputation appeared at 
 our door, but were immediately expelled. Being 
 totally devoid of any sense of delicacy or propriety, 
 they seemed resolved to search every mystery to the 
 bottom. 
 
SCENES AT FORT LARAMIE, 1 19 
 
 Having at length satisfied their curiosity, they 
 next proceeded to business. The men occupied 
 themselves in procuring supplies for their onward 
 journey ; either buying them with money 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 justice, that 
 these men bore them no good will. Many of them 
 were firmly persuaded that the French were insti- 
 gating 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 the emigrants. They seemed like 
 men totally out of their element ; bewildered and 
 amazed, like a troop of school-boys lost in the 
 woods. It was impossible to be long among them 
 without being conscious of the high and bold spirit 
 with which most of them were animated. But the 
 forest is the home of the backwoodsman. On the 
 remote prairie he is totally at a loss. He differs as 
 much from the genuine "mountain man," the wild 
 prairie hunter, 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 man- 
 kind, and had never put their own resources to the 
 test. 
 
 A full proportion of suspicion fell upon us. Being 
 
I20 THE OREGON TRAIL. 
 
 strangers, we were looked upon as enemies. Having 
 occasion for a supply of lead and a few other neces- 
 sary 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 him seated on the tongue of his wagon. 
 
 "Well, stranger," he would observe, as he saw 
 us approach, " I reckon I won't trade !" 
 
 Some friend of his had followed him from the 
 scene of the bargain, and suggested 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 
 unfortunate, as it exposed them to real danger. 
 Assume, in the presence of Indians, a bold bearing, 
 self-confident yet vigilant, and you will find them 
 tolerably safe neighbors. 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 dangerous ene- 
 mies. The Dahcotah saw clearly enough the per- 
 turbation of the emigrants, and instantly availed 
 themselves of it. They becam.e extremely insolent 
 and exacting 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, having made several days' 
 journey with no other object than that of enjoying a 
 cup of coffee and two or three biscuits. So the 
 "feast" was demanded, and the emigrants dared 
 not refuse it. 
 
 One evening, about sunset, the village was de- 
 
SCENES AT FORT LARAMIE. 121 
 
 serted. We met old men, warriors, squaws, and 
 children in gay attire, trooping off to the encamp- 
 ment, with faces of anticipation ; and, arriving here, 
 they seated themselves in a semicircle. Smoke 
 occupied the centre, with his warriors on either 
 hand ; the young men and boys next succeeded, 
 and the squaws and children formed the horns of 
 the crescent. The biscuit and coffee were most 
 promptly dispatched, the emigrants staring open- 
 mouthed at their savage guests. With each emi- 
 grant party that arrived at Fort Laramie this scene 
 was renewed ; and every day the Indians grev/ more 
 rapacious and presumptuous. One evening they 
 broke to 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 the emigrants with 
 destruction, and actually fired upon one or two par- 
 ties of whites. A military force and military law 
 are urgently called for in that perilous region ; and 
 unless troops are speedily stationed at Fort Laramie, 
 or elsewhere in the neighborhood, both the emi- 
 grants and other travellers will be exposed to most 
 imminent risks. 
 
 The Ogillallah, the Brule, and the other western 
 bands of the Dahcotah are thorough savages, un- 
 changed by any contact with civilization. Not one 
 of them can speak an European tongue, or has ever 
 visited an 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 handful employed 
 about the Fur Company's posts. They esteemed 
 
122 THE OREGON TRAIL. 
 
 them a wise people, inferior only to themselves, 
 living' in leather lodges, like their own, and sub- 
 sisting on buffalo. But when the swarm of Menc- 
 aska, with their oxen and wagons, began to invade 
 them, their astonishment was unbounded. They 
 could scarcely believe that the 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 extreme. 
 
 But to glance at the interior of a lodge. Shaw 
 and I 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 
 monotonous sounds, to which they kept time in a rue- 
 ful chant. Outside the gate boys 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 re- 
 paired 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 com- 
 munity 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 com- 
 
SCEN'ES AT FORT LARAMIE. 1 23 
 
 plaint of Shaw's patients was, for the most part, a 
 severe inflammation of the eyes, occasioned by ex- 
 posure 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 harmless 
 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 appear- 
 ance ; the chief's daughter herself, M^ho, to do her 
 justice, was the best-looking girl in the village. 
 Being on excellent terms with the physician, she 
 placed herself readily under his hands, and sub- 
 mitted with a good grace to his applications, laugh- 
 ing in his face during the whole process, for a squaw 
 hardly knows how to smile. This case dispatched, 
 another of a different kind succeeded. A hideous, 
 emaciated old woman sat in the darkest corner of 
 the lodge, rocking to and fro with pain, and hiding 
 her eyes from the light by pressing the palms of 
 both hands against her face. At Smoke's com- 
 mand she came forward very unwillingly, and ex- 
 hibited a pair of eyes that had nearly disappeared 
 from 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 applying his favorite 
 remedies. 
 
 " It is strange," he said, when the operation was 
 finished, "that I forgot to bring any Spanish flies 
 with me ; we must have som.ething 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 
 
124 ^-^^ OREGON TRAIL. 
 
 howl, at which the rest of the family broke out into 
 a laugh. 
 
 During these medical operations Smoke's eldest 
 squaw entered the lodge with a sort of stone mallet 
 in her hand. I had observed some time before a 
 litter of well-grown black puppies comfortably 
 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, hammered him on the head till she 
 killed him. Being quite 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 she dropped into a kettle to boil. In 
 a few moments a large wooden dish was set before 
 us, filled with this delicate preparation. We felt 
 conscious of the honor. A dog-feast is the greatest 
 compliment a Dahcotah can offer to his guest ; and 
 knowing that to refuse eating Avould be an affront, 
 we attacked the little dog, and devoured him before 
 the eyes of his unconscious parent. Smoke in the 
 meantime 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. 
 
 One morning, about a week after reaching Fort 
 Laramie, we were holding our customary Indian 
 levee, when a bustle in the area below announced a 
 new arrival ; and, looking down from our balcony, 
 I saw a famihar red beard and moustache in the 
 
SCENES AT FORT LARAMIE. 1 25 
 
 gateway. They belonged to the Captain, who, 
 with his party, had just crossed the stream. We 
 met him on the stairs as he came up, and congratu- 
 lated him on the safe arrival of himself and his 
 devoted companions. But he remembered our 
 treachery, and was grave and dignified accordingly ; 
 a tendency which increased as he observed on our 
 part a disposition to laugh at him. After remaining 
 an hour or two at the fort he rode away wdth his 
 friends, and we have heard nothing of him since. 
 As for R., he kept carefully aloof. It was but too 
 evident that we had the unhappiness to have for- 
 feited the kind regards of our London fellow-trav- 
 eller. 
 
 NOTE. 
 
 Somewhat more than a year from this time Shaw hap- 
 pened to be in New York, and coming one morning down 
 the steps of the Astor House, encountered a small newsboy 
 with a bundle of penny papers under his arm, who screamed 
 in his ear, " Another great battle in Mexico !" Shaw bought 
 a paper, and having perused the glorious intelligence, was 
 looking over the remaining columns, when the following 
 paragraph attracted his notice : 
 
 " English Travelling Sportsmen. — Among the nota- 
 ble arrivals in town are two English gentlemen, William 
 and John C, Esqrs., at the Clinton Hotel, on their return 
 home after an extended buffalo-hunting tour in Oregon and 
 the wild West. Their party crossed the continent in March, 
 1846, since when our travellers have seen the wonders of 
 our great West, the Sandwich Islands, and the no less 
 agreeable Coast of Western Mexico, California, and Peru. 
 With the real zeal of sportsmen they have pursued adven- 
 ture whenever it has offered, and returned with not only a 
 correct knowledge of the West, but with niany a trophy that 
 shows they have found the grand sport they sought. The 
 account of ' Oregon,' given by those observing travellers, 
 is most glowing, and though upon a pleasure trip, the advan- 
 tages to be realized bv commercial men have not been over- 
 looked, and they prophesy for that ' Western State' a pros- 
 perity not exceeded at the east. The fisheries are spoken 
 of as the best in the country, and only equalled by the rare 
 
126 THE OREGON TRAIL. 
 
 facilities for agriculture. A trip like this now closed is a 
 rare vmdertaking, but as interesting as rare to those who are 
 capable of a full appreciation of all the wonders that met 
 them in the magnificent region they have traversed." 
 
 In some admiration at the heroic light in which Jack and 
 the Captain were here set forth, Shaw pocketed the news- 
 paper, and proceeded to make inquiry after his old fellow- 
 travellers. Jack was out of town, but the Captain was 
 quietly established at his hotel. Except that the red mous- 
 tache was shorn away, he was in all respects the same man 
 whom we had left upon the South Fork of the Platte. Every 
 recollection of former differences had vanished from his 
 mind, and he greeted his visitor most cordially. "Where 
 is R.?" asked Shaw. "Gone to the devil," hastily replied 
 the Captain ; " that is. Jack and I parted from him at Ore- 
 gon City, and haven't seen him since." He next proceeded 
 to give an account of his journeyings after leaving us at 
 Fort Laramie. No sooner, it seemed, had he done so, than 
 he and Jack began to slaughter the buffalo with unrelenting 
 fury, but when they reached the other side of the South Pass 
 their rifles were laid by as useless, since there were neither 
 Indians nor game to exercise them upon. From this point 
 the journey, as the Captain expressed it, was a great bore. 
 When they reached the mouth of the Columbia, he and Jack 
 sailed for the Sandwich Islands, whence they proceeded to 
 Panama, across the Isthmus, and came by sea to New 
 Orleans. 
 
 Shaw and our friend spent the evening together, and when 
 they finally separated at two o'clock in the morning, the 
 Captain's ruddy face was ruddier than ever. 
 
CHAPTER X. 
 
 THE WAR-PARTIES. 
 
 " By the nine gods he swore it, 
 And named a trysting-day, 
 And bade his messengers ride forth, 
 East and west and south and north. 
 To summon his array." 
 
 Lays of Ancient Rome. 
 
 The summer of 1846 was a season of much war- 
 like excitement among all the western bands of the 
 Dahcotah. In 1845 they encountered great re- 
 verses. Many war-parties had been sent out ; some 
 of them had been totally 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 superior 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, together 
 with a small parcel of tobacco attached, to his 
 tribesmen and relations. They had employed old 
 Vaskiss, the trader, as their messenger, 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 
 
 127 
 
128 THE OREGON TRAIL. 
 
 Dahcotah within three hundred miles, proposing a 
 grand combination to chastise the Snakes, and 
 naming a place and time of rendezvous. The plan 
 was readily adopted, and at this moment many vil- 
 lages, probably embracing in the whole five or six 
 thousand souls, were slowly creeping over the prai- 
 ries and tending toward the common centre at "La 
 Bonte'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 char- 
 acteristic result of this preparation will appear in 
 the sequel. 
 
 I was greatly rejoiced to hear of it. I had come 
 into the country almost exclusively with a view of 
 observing the Indian character. Having from child- 
 hood felt a curiosity on this subject, and having 
 failed completely to gratify it by reading, I resolved 
 to have recourse to observation. I wished to satisfy 
 myself with regard to the position of the Indians 
 among the races of men ; the vices and the virtues 
 that have sprung from their innate character and 
 from their modes of life, their government, their 
 superstitions, and their domestic situation. 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 my- 
 self an inmate of one of their lodges ; and hence- 
 forward this narrative, so far as I am concerned, 
 will be chiefly a record of the progress of this de- 
 sign, apparently so easy of accomplishment, and 
 the unexpected impediments that opposed it. 
 
 We resolved on no account to miss the rendezvous 
 at "La Bonte's camp." Our plan was to leave 
 Delorier 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 
 
THE WAR-PARTIES. 1 29 
 
 had. In all probability jealousies and quarrels 
 would arise among so many hordes of fierce impul- 
 sive savages, congregated together under no com- 
 mon head, and many of them strangers, from re 
 mote prairies and mountains. We were bound in 
 common prudence to be cautious how we excited 
 any feeling 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 a dandy of the first water. His 
 ugly face was painted with vermilion ; on his head 
 fluttered the tail of a prairie-cock (a large species 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 sit- 
 ting in the sun before their doors. The evil tidings 
 brought by " The Horse " were of the following im- 
 port : The squaw of Henry Chatillon, a woman with 
 whom he had been connected for years by the 
 strongest ties which in that country exist between 
 the sexes, was dangerously ill. She and her chil- 
 dren were in the village of the Whirlwind, at the 
 distance of a few days' journey. Henry was anx- 
 ious to see the woman before she died, and provide 
 for the safety and support of his children, of whom 
 
130 THE OREGON TRAIL. 
 
 he was extremely fond. To have refused him this 
 would have been gross inhumanity. Vv^e abandoned 
 our plan of joining Smoke's village and of proceed- 
 ing with it to the rendezvous, 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 disorder 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 within 
 that time taken six grains of opium, without the 
 least beneficial effect, and having no medical 
 adviser, nor any choice of diet, I resolved to throw 
 myself upon Providence for recovery, using, without 
 regard to the disorder, any portion of strength that 
 might remain to me. So on the twentieth of June 
 we set out from Fort Laramie to meet the Whirl- 
 wind'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, with a face 
 like an owl's, contrasting oddly enough with 
 Delorier's mercurial countenance. This was not 
 the only reinforcement to our party. A vagrant 
 Indian trader, named Reynal, joined us, together 
 with his squaw, Margot, and her two nephews, our 
 dandy friend, "The Horse," and his younger 
 brother, " The Hail Storm." Thus accompanied, 
 we betook ourselves to the prairie, leaving the 
 beaten trail, and passing over the desolate hills that 
 flank the bottoms of Laramie Creek. In all, 
 Indians and whites, we counted eight men and one 
 woman. 
 
 Reynal, the trader, the image of sleek and selfish 
 complacency, carried "The Horse's" dragoon- 
 
THE WAR- PAR TIES. I3I 
 
 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 pounds' weight, was couched in 
 the basket of a traiuiil, such as I have before de- 
 scribed ; besides her ponderous bulk, various domes- 
 tic utensils were attached to the vehicle, and she 
 was leading by a trail-rope a pack-horse, who carried 
 the covering of Reynal's lodge. Delorier walked 
 briskly by the side of the cart, and Raymond came 
 behind, swearing at the spare horses which it was 
 his business to drive. The restless young Indians, 
 their quivers at their backs and their bows in their 
 hands, galloped over the hills, often starting a wolf 
 or an antelope from the thick growth of wild-sage 
 bushes. Shaw and I were in keeping v/ith the rest 
 of the rude cavalcade, having, in the absence of 
 other clothing, adopted the buckskin 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 medicinal herbs, 
 more especially the absanth, which covered every 
 declivity, and 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 wild bottoms of Laramie 
 Creek, which, far below us, wound 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 clifl"s, white as chalk, shut in this green 
 strip of woods and meadow-land, into which we 
 descended and encamped for the night. In the 
 
132 THE OREGON TRAIL. 
 
 morning 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 with recollections of home. As we 
 emerged from the 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, double the size of those of New England, 
 leaped up from the tall ferns ; curlew were scream- 
 ing over our heads, and a whole 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, stretched 
 away like a greyhound. 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 ; but 
 the wolf leaped into the stream and swam across. 
 Then came the crack of a rifle, the bullet whistling 
 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 com- 
 mon 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 scattered 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 long 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 
 
THE WAR-PARTIES. 1 33 
 
 encamped. An old huge 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 shrubbery, though behind 
 us a few cotton-wood trees, dotting the green 
 prairie, alone impeded the view, and friend or 
 enemy could be discerned in that direction at a 
 mile's distance. Here we resolved to remain and 
 await the arrival of the Whirlwind, who would cer- 
 tainly pass this way in his progress toward 
 La Bonte's camp. To go in search of him was not 
 expedient, both on account of the broken and im- 
 practicable nature of the country and the uncertainty 
 of his position and movements ; besides, our horses 
 were almost worn out, and 1 was in no condition to 
 travel. We had good grass, good water, tolerable 
 fish from the stream, and plenty of smaller game, 
 such as antelope and deer, though no buffalo. 
 There was one little drawback to our satisfaction ; 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- 
 snakes. Henry Chatillon again dispatched ' * 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 
 
134 THE OREGON TRAIL. 
 
 interesting hours of the day, and a bountiful pro- 
 vision was made for them. An antelope or a deer 
 usually swung from a stout bough, and haunches 
 were suspended 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 buftal6-hides stretched 
 over 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 rich quiver of otter-skin, with a bow 
 and arrows ; for Reynal, an Indian in most things 
 but color, chose to hunt buffalo with these primitive 
 weapons. In the darkness of this cavern-like habi- 
 tation might be discerned Madame Margot, her 
 overgrown bulk stowed away among her domestic 
 implements, furs, robes, blankets, and painted cases 
 of par fieche, in which dried meat is kept. Here 
 she sat from sunrise to sunset, a bloated impersona- 
 tion of gluttony and laziness, while her affectionate 
 proprietor was smoking, or begging petty gifts from 
 us, or telling lies concerning his own achievements, 
 or perchance engaged in the more profitable occu- 
 pation of cooking some preparation of prairie deli- 
 cacies. Reynal was an adept at this work ; he and 
 Delorier have joined forces, and are hard at work 
 together over the fire, while Raymond spreads, by 
 way of table-cloth, a buffalo-hide carefully whitened 
 with pipe-clay, on the grass before the tent. Here, 
 with ostentatious display, he arranges the teacups and 
 plates ; and then, creeping on all fours, like a dog, 
 he 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 escaped him ; then collecting his scattered 
 
THE WAR-PARTIES. I 35 
 
 thoughts, as if by an effort, he informs us that sup- 
 per is ready, and instantly withdraws. 
 
 When sunset came, and at that hour the wild and 
 desolate scene would assume a new aspect, the 
 horses were driven in. They had been grazing all 
 day in the neighboring 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 him- 
 self, 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 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 upon 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 ; therefore 
 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 quite removed a day or /wo after 
 by two or three Dahcotah, Avho came to us with an 
 
136 THE OREGON TRAIL. 
 
 account of having hidden in a ravine 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 
 Chugwater ; that here the Crows discovered five 
 dead bodies of Dahcotah, placed according to the 
 national custom in trees, and flinging them to the 
 ground, they held their guns against them and blew 
 them to atoms. 
 
 If our camp were not altogether safe, still it was 
 comfortable enough ; at least it was so to Shaw, for 
 I was tormented with illness and vexed by the delay 
 in the accomplishment of my designs. When a 
 respite in my disorder 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 neighboring 
 prairie-dog village. Around our fire at night we 
 employed ourselves in inveighing against the fickle- 
 ness and inconstancy of Indians, and execrating the 
 Whirlwind and all his village. At last the thing 
 grew insufferable. 
 
 "To-morrow morning," said I, "I will start for 
 the fort, and see if I can hear any news there." 
 Late that evening, when the fire had sunk low, and 
 all the camp were asleep, a loud cry sounded from 
 the darkness. Henry started 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 mov- 
 ing 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 
 
THE WAR-PARTIES. 1 37 
 
 brothers, but she would never reach us, for she was 
 dying, and asking every moment 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 horses at sunrise. Reynal pro- 
 tested vehemently against being left alone, with no- 
 body but the two Canadians and the young Indians, 
 when enemies were in the neighborhood. Disre- 
 garding his complaints, we left him, and coming to 
 the mouth of Chugwater, separated, 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 
 unfortunate 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 Canadian capote, 
 stood in the gateway, holding by a cord of bull's 
 hide a shaggy wild horse, which he had lately 
 caught. His sharp prominent features and his little 
 keen snake-like eyes looked out from beneath the 
 shadowy hood of the capote, which was drawn over 
 his head exactly like the cowl of a Capuchin friar. 
 His face was extremely thin and 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. 
 He had made an exchange of horses to our mutual 
 advantage ; and Paul, thinking himself well treated, 
 had declared everywhere 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." 
 
138 THE OREGON TRAIL. 
 
 He said that he was going to Richard'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 quite communicative. Paul 
 was a cosmopolitan 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 In- 
 dian ; and as he told of the bloody deeds of his own 
 people against their enemies his little eye would 
 glitter with a fierce lustre. He told how the Dah- 
 cotah exterminated a village of the Hohays on the 
 Upper Missouri, slaughtering men, women, and 
 children ; and how an overwhelming force of them 
 cut off sixteen of the brave Delawares, who fought 
 like wolves to the last, amid the throng of their 
 enemies. He told me also another story, which I 
 did not believe until I had heard it confirmed from 
 so many independent sources that no room was left 
 for doubt. I am tem.pted to introduce it here. 
 
 Six years ago, a fellow named Jim Beckwith, a 
 mongrel of French, American, and negro blood, 
 was trading for the Fur Company, in a very large 
 village of the Crows. Jim Beckwith was last summer 
 at St. Louis. He is a ruffian of the first stamp ; 
 bloody and treacherous, without honor or honesty ; 
 such at least is the character he bears upon the 
 prairie. Yet in his case all 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 in the Crow village, a Blackfoot war-party, 
 between thirty and forty in number, came stealing 
 through the country, killing stragglers and carrying 
 
THE WAR-PARTIES. 1 39 
 
 off horses. The Crow warriors got upon their trail 
 and pressed them so closely that they could not 
 escape, at which the Blackfeet, 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 out- 
 numbering them tenfold, they did not dream of 
 storming the little fortification. Such a proceeding 
 would be altogether repugnant to their notions of 
 warfare. Whooping and yeUing, 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, boasting 
 himself the bravest and greatest of mankind, and 
 grasping his hatchet, would rush up and strike it 
 upon the breastwork, and then as he retreated to 
 his companions, fall dead under a shower of arrows ; 
 yet no combined attack seemed to be dreamed of. 
 The Blackfeet remained secure in their intrench- 
 ment. At last Jim Beckwith 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, and taking in his 
 hand a small light hatchet, he ran over the prairie 
 to the right, concealed by a hollow from the eyes of 
 the Blackfeet. Then climbing up the rocks, he 
 gained the top of the precipice behind them. Forty 
 or fifty young Crow warriors followed him. By the 
 
I40 THE OREGON TRAIL. 
 
 cries and whoops that rose from below he knew that 
 the Blackfeet were just beneath him ; and running 
 forward he leaped dov/n 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 him 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. The 
 convulsive struggle within the breastwork was fright- 
 ful ; for an instant the Blackfeet fought and yelled 
 like pent-up tigers ; but the butchery was soon com- 
 plete, and the mangled bodies lay piled up together 
 under the precipice. Not a Blackfoot made his 
 escape. 
 
 As Paul finished his story we came in sight of 
 Richard' s fort. It stood in the middle of the plain ; 
 a disorderly crowd of men around it, and an emi- 
 grant camp a little in front. 
 
 "Now, Paul," said I, "where are your Minni- 
 congew 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 Rich- 
 ard's that morning. There was as yet no sign of 
 their approach ; so pushing through a noisy, dnmken 
 crowd, I entered an apartment of logs and mud, the 
 largest in the fort : it was full of men of various 
 
THE WAR-PARTIES. I4I 
 
 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 
 encumbered 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 drinking it on the spot. Here 
 were maudlin squaws stretched on piles of buffalo- 
 robes ; squalid Mexicans, armed with bows and 
 arrows ; Indians sedately drunk ; long-haired Cana- 
 dians 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 broad- 
 cloth 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 Colonel, 
 seizing me, in the absence of buttons, by the leather 
 fringes of my frock, began to define his position. 
 His men, he said, had mutinied and deposed him ; 
 but still he exercised over them the influence of a 
 superior mind ; in all but the name he was yet their 
 chief. As the Colonel spoke, I looked round on the 
 wild assemblage, and could not help thinking that 
 he was but ill qualified to conduct such men across 
 the deserts to California. Conspicuous 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 remark- 
 ably distinguished him. 
 
142 THE OREGON TRAIL. 
 
 Fearful was the fate that months after overtook 
 some of the members of that party. General 
 Kearney, on his late return from California, brought 
 in the account how they were interrupted by 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 toward 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, shaking 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. Perrault — this, if I recol- 
 lect right, was the Canadian's name — had quarrelled 
 with the bourgeois, and the fort was too hot to hold 
 him. Bordeaux, inflated with his transient author- 
 ity, 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 ; 
 had not an old Indian, the brother of his squaw, 
 seized hold of his antagonist, he would have fared 
 ill. 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 and calling on him to come out and fight, his 
 heart failed him ; 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 upon 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. Bor- 
 
THE WAR-PARTIES. I43 
 
 deaux's prudence got the better of his valor, and he 
 would not stir. Perrault stood showering oppro- 
 brious epithets at the recreant bourgeois. 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. 
 
 I remained in the fort that night. In the morn- 
 ing as I was coming out from breakfast, conversing 
 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. 
 
 ' ' That' 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 
 serious injury that it 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 conceived the de- 
 sign of avenging his son's death. The long and 
 complicated preparations for the expedition were 
 too much for his fickle, inconstant 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 pur- 
 
144 ^-^^ OREGON TRAIL. 
 
 pose was evidently shaken ; he had become tired, 
 like a child, of his favorite plan. Bordeaux exult- 
 ingly predicted that he would not go to war. My 
 philanthropy at that time was no match for my 
 curiosity, and I was vexed at the possibility that 
 after all I might lose the rare opportunity of seeing 
 the formidable ceremonies of war. The Whirl- 
 wind, 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 McCluskey, six large villages 
 were already 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 represented them as on their way to 
 La Bonte's camp, which they would reach in a 
 week, unless they should learn that there were no 
 buffalo the7'e. I did not like this condition, for 
 buffalo this season were rare in the neighborhood. 
 There were also the two Minnicongew villages that 
 I mentioned before ; but about noon an Indian came 
 from Richard's fort with the news that they were 
 quarreUing, breaking up, and dispersing. So much 
 for the whiskey of the emigrants ! Poinding them- 
 selves unable to drink the whole, they had sold the 
 residue to these Indians, and it 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 smoth- 
 ered feuds that exist in an Indian village broke out 
 into furious quarrels. They forgot the warlike en- 
 terprise that had already brought them three hun- 
 dred miles. They seemed like ungoverned chil- 
 dren 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 toward the Missouri in small parties. 
 
THE WAR-PARTIES. 1 45 
 
 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 aspect ; however, in fore- 
 going 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, 1 prepared to carry the news, 
 such as it was, to the camp. 
 
 I caught my horse, and to my vexation found he 
 had lost a shoe and broken his tender white hoof 
 against the rocks. Horses are shod at Fort Lara- 
 mie at the moderate rate of three dollars a foot ; so 
 I tied Hendrick to a beam in the corral, and sum- 
 moned Roubidou, the blacksmith. Roubidou, with 
 the hoof between his knees, was at work with ham- 
 mer and file, and I was inspecting the process, 
 when a strange voice addressed me. 
 
 •'Two more gone under! Well, there is more 
 of us left yet. Here's Jean Gras and me off to the 
 mountains to-morrow. Our turn will come next, I 
 suppose. It's a hard life, anyhow !" 
 
 1 looked up and saw a little man, not much more 
 than five feet high, but of very square and strong 
 proportions. In appearance he was particularly 
 dingy ; for his old buckskin frock was black and 
 polished with time and grease, and his belt, knife, 
 pouch, and powder-horn appeared to have seen the 
 roughest service. The first joint of each foot was 
 entirely gone, having been frozen off several winters 
 before, and his moccasons were curtailed in propor- 
 tion. His whole appearance and equipment bespoke 
 the "free trapper." He had a round ruddy face, 
 animated with a spirit of carelessness and gayety 
 not at all in accordance with the words he had just 
 spoken. 
 
 10 
 
146 THE OREGON TRAIL. 
 
 ' ' ' Two more gone, ' ' ' said I ; " what do you 
 mean by that ?' ' 
 
 •' Oh," said he, " 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 quite 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, ye'd better, and keep a bright lookout for 
 Indians !" 
 
 I thought the advice too good to be neglected. 
 Fording the stream, I passed at a round trot over 
 the plains 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. 
 
THE WAR- PARTIES. 1 47 
 
 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 I came 
 upon its banks. There was something exciting in 
 the wald 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, 1 walked my horse toward 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 graceful 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 a 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. Measuring the distance, I found it two 
 hundred and four paces. When I stood by his side, 
 the antelope turned his expiring eye upward. It 
 was like a beautiful w^oman's, dark and rich. 
 ' ' Fortunate that I am in a hurry, ' ' thought I ; "I 
 might be troubled w^ith remorse, if I had time for 
 it." 
 
 Cutting the animal up, not in the most skilful 
 
148 THE OREGON TRAIL. 
 
 manner, I hung the meat at the back of my saddle, 
 and rode on again. The hills (I could not remem- 
 ber 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 effort, 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 un- 
 certain light, to be pushing through the dense trees 
 and shrubbery 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 v/e were encamped. While I 
 was looking in vain for the light of the fire, Hen- 
 drick, with keener perceptions, gave a loud neigh, 
 which was immediately answered in a shrill note 
 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 day they 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, 
 
THE WAR-PARTIES. 1 49 
 
 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 procured among his Indian relatives two beauti- 
 fully ornamented 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 encountering a 
 human being by the way, they came upon the 
 lodges of the squaw and her brothers, who, in com- 
 pliance with Henry's message, had left the Indian 
 village, in order to join 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, noth- 
 ing had kept her ahve but the hope of seeing 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 
 travail, and the whole party set out toward our 
 camp. There were but five warriors ; the rest were 
 women and children. The whole were in great 
 alarm at the proximity of the Crow war-party, who 
 would certainly have destroyed them without mercy 
 had they met. They had 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 
 
ISO THE OREGON TRAIL. 
 
 did not recover until long after the horseman disap- 
 peared ; then they set out again. Henry was 
 riding with Shaw, a few rods in advance of the In- 
 dians, when Mahto-Tatonka, a younger brother of 
 the woman, hastily called after them. Turning 
 back, they found all the Indians crowded around 
 the travail 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 still- 
 ness succeeded ; then the Indians raised in con- 
 cert their cries of lamentation over the corpse, and 
 among them Shaw clearly distinguished those 
 strange sounds resembling the word " Halleluyah," 
 which, together with some other accidental coinci- 
 dences, has given rise to the absurd theory 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 val- 
 uable presents, to be placed by the side of the body 
 at its last resting-place. Leaving the Indians, he 
 and Shaw set out for the camp and reached it, as 
 we have seen, by hard pushing, at about noon. 
 Having obtained the necessary articles, they imme- 
 diately returned. It was very late and quite dark 
 when they again reached the lodges. They were 
 all placed in a deep hollow among the dreary hills. 
 Four of them were just visible through the gloom, 
 but the fifth and largest was illuminated by the ruddy 
 blaze of a fire within, glowing through the half- 
 transparent covering 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 in the scene. 
 They rode up to the entrance of the lodge, and 
 there was no sound but the tramp of their horses. 
 
THE WAR-PARTIES. 151 
 
 A squaw came out and took charge of the animals, 
 without 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 figures seated 
 around it were scarcely visible ; then a squaw would 
 drop upon it a piece of buffalo-fat, and a bright 
 flame, instantly springing up, would reveal on a 
 sudden the crowd of wild faces, motionless as 
 bronze. The silence continued unbroken. It was 
 a relief to Shaw when daylight returned and he 
 could escape from this house of mourning. He and 
 Henry prepared to return homeward ; first, how- 
 ever, they placed the presents they had brought 
 near the body of the squaw, which, most gaudily 
 attired, remained in a sitting posture in one of the 
 lodges. A fine horse was picketed not far off, des- 
 tined 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 im- 
 plements, for her use upon this last journey. 
 
 Henry left her to the care of her relatives, and 
 came immediately with Shaw to the camp. It was 
 some time before he entirely recovered from his 
 dejection. 
 
CHAPTER XL 
 
 SCENES AT THE CAMP. 
 
 " Fierce are Albania's children ; yet they lack 
 Not virtues, were those virtues more mature ; 
 Where is the foe that ever saw their back ? 
 Who can so well the toil of war endure?" 
 
 Childe Harold. 
 
 Reynal heard guns fired one day at the distance 
 of a mile or two from the camp. He grew nervous 
 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 ap- 
 peared. Four trappers, one called Moran, another 
 Saraphin, and the others nicknamed ' ' Rouleau ' ' 
 and "Jean Gras," 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 
 battered 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 travelling 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 
 adventures ; and I defy the annals of chivalry to 
 furnish the record of a life more wild and perilous 
 than that of a Rocky Mountain trapper. 
 
 With this efficient reinforcement the agitation of 
 Reynal' s nerves subsided. He began to conceive 
 152 
 
SCENES AT THE CAMP. 1 53 
 
 a sort of attachment to our old camping-ground ; yet 
 it was time to change our quarters, since remaining 
 too long on one spot must lead to certain unpleasant 
 results, not to be borne with unless in a 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 river side at a furlong's distance. Its 
 trunk was full six feet in diameter ; on one side it 
 was marked by a party of Indians with various inex- 
 plicable hieroglyphics, commemorating some war- 
 like enterprise, and aloft am.ong the branches were 
 the remains of a scaffolding, 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, 01' 
 Mahto-Tatonka, a compound name which he in- 
 herited from his father, the most powerful 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 orthodox manner of enter- 
 taining 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 monosyllable by which an Indian 
 contrives to express half the emotions that he is 
 susceptible of. 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 south- 
 ward ; "it will come in two days." 
 
 ' ' Will they go to the war ?' ' \ 
 
 "Yes." 
 
154 '^^^ OREGON TRAIL. 
 
 No man is a philanthropist on the prairie. We 
 welcomed this news most cordially, and congratu- 
 lated ourselves that Bordeaux's interested efforts to 
 divert the Whirlwind from his congenial vocation 
 of bloodshed had failed of success, and that no addi- 
 tional obstacles would interpose between us and our 
 plan of repairing to the rendezvous at La Bonte'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. Some- 
 times they stretched themselves side by side in the 
 shade, indulging in raillery and practical 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 solitary savage riding toward 
 us over the prairie, who told us that the Indians had 
 changed their plan, and would not come within 
 three days ; still he persisted that they w^ere going 
 to the war. 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 
 close 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, wellnigh obliterated. The long poles which 
 supported this squalid habitation thrust themselves 
 rakishly out from its pointed top, and over its en- 
 trance were suspended a "medicine-pipe" and 
 
SCENES AT THE CAMP. 155 
 
 various other implements of the magic art. While 
 we were yet at a distance we observed a greatly 
 increased population, of various colors and dimen- 
 sions, sv/arming around our quiet encampment. 
 Moran, the trapper, having been absent for a day 
 or j^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 first 
 price, but the formidable burden of feeding and 
 supporting a rapacious horde of the bride's relatives, 
 who hold themselves entitled to feed upon the indis- 
 creet white man. They gather round like leeches 
 and drain him of all he has. 
 
 Moran, like Reynal, had not allied himself to 
 an aristocratic circle. His relatives occupied but 
 a contemptible position in Ogillallah society ; for 
 among these wild democrats of the prairie, as among 
 us, there are virtual distinctions of rank and place ; 
 though this great advantage they have over us, that 
 wealth has no part in determining such distinctions. 
 Moran' s partner was not the most beautiful of her 
 sex, and he had the exceedingly bad taste to array 
 her in an old calico gown, bought from an emigrant 
 woman, instead of the neat and graceful tunic of 
 whitened deer-skin worn ordinarily by the squaws. 
 The moving spirit of the establishment, in more 
 senses than one, was a hideous 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 the leathery skin that 
 covered them. Her withered face more resembled 
 an old skull than the countenance of a living being, 
 even to the hollow, darkened sockets, at the bottom 
 
156 THE OREGON TRAIL. 
 
 of which ghttered her little black eyes. Her arms 
 had dwindled away into nothing 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 buffalo-robe 
 tied round her waist with a string of hide. Yet the 
 old squaw's meagre anatomy was wonderfully 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 anything displeased her. Then 
 there was her brother, a "medicine-man," or 
 magician, equally gaunt and sinewy with herself. 
 His mouth spread from ear to ear, and his appetite, 
 as we had full 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 hunting nor for war ; and one 
 might infer as much from the stohd, unmeaning 
 expression of his face. The happy pair had just 
 entered upon the honeymoon. They would stretch 
 a buffalo-robe upon poles, so as to protect them 
 from the fierce rays of the sun, and spreading be- 
 neath this rough canopy a luxuriant 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 conver- 
 sation 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 different complexion build houses of blocks. 
 
 A day passed and Indians began rapidly to come 
 in. Parties of two or three or more would ride up 
 
SCENES AT THE CAMP. I 5/ 
 
 and silently seat themselves on the grass. The 
 fourth day came at last, when about noon horsemen 
 suddenly appeared into view on the summit of the 
 neighboring ridge. They descended, and behind 
 them followed a wild procession, hurrying in haste 
 and disorder down the hill and over the plain below : 
 horses, mules, and dogs, heavily burdened t7'avaux, 
 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 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 sprung up. On a sudden the lonely plain 
 was transformed into the site of a miniature city. 
 Countless horses were soon grazing over the mead- 
 ows around us, and the whole prairie was animated 
 by restless figures careering on horseback or sedately 
 stalking in their long white robes. The Whirlwind 
 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 Bonte's 
 camp ?' ' 
 
 Still this remained in doubt. Characteristic in- 
 decision perplexed their councils. Indians cannot 
 act in large bodies. Though their object be of the 
 highest importance, they cannot combine to attain 
 it by a series of connected efforts. King Philip, 
 Pontiac, and Tecumseh, all felt this to their cost. 
 The Ogillallah once had a war-chief who could con- 
 trol them, but he was dead, and now they were left 
 to the sway of their own unsteady impulses. 
 
 This Indian village and its inhabitants will hold a 
 prominent place in the rest of the narrative, and 
 perhaps it may not be amiss to glance for an instant 
 at the savage people of which they form a part. 
 
158 THE OREGON TRAIL. 
 
 The Dahcotah (I prefer this national designation to 
 the unmeaning French name, Sioux) range over a 
 vast territory, from the river St. Peter's to the 
 Rocky Mountains themselves. They are divided 
 into several independent bands, united under no 
 central government and acknowledging 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, so each band is divided into 
 villages. Each village has a chief, who is honored 
 and obeyed only so far as his personal qualities may 
 command respect and fear. Sometimes he is a 
 mere nominal chief; sometimes his authority is 
 little short of absolute, and his fame and influence 
 reach even beyond his own village ; so that the 
 whole band to which he belongs is ready to acknowl- 
 edge him as their head. This was, a few years 
 since, the case with the Ogillallah. Courage, ad- 
 dress, and enterprise may raise any warrior to the 
 highest honor, especially if he be the son of a 
 former 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 semblances of rank and honor. 
 He knows too well on how frail a tenure he holds 
 his station. He must conciliate his uncertain sub- 
 jects. Many a man in the village lives better, 
 owns more squaws and more horses, and goes better 
 clad than he. Like the Teutonic chiefs of old, he 
 ingratiates himself with his young men by making 
 them presents, thereby often impoverishing himself. 
 
SCENES AT THE CAMP. I 59 
 
 Does he fail in gaining 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 sanctions by which he may enforce 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. Fre- 
 quently the village is principally made up of his 
 relatives and descendants, and the wandering com- 
 munity assumes much of the patriarchal character. 
 A people so loosely united, torn, too, with rankling 
 feuds and jealousies, can have little power or effi- 
 ciency. 
 
 The western Dahcotah have no fixed habitations. 
 Hunting and fighting, they wander incessantly, 
 through summer and winter. Some are following 
 the herds of buffalo over the waste of prairie ; 
 others are traversing the Black Hills, thronging, on 
 horseback and on foot, through the dark gulfs and 
 sombre gorges, beneath the vast splintering preci- 
 pices, and emerging at last upon the "Parks," 
 those beautiful but most perilous hunting-grounds. 
 The buffalo supplies them with almost all the neces- 
 saries of life ; with habitations, food, clothing, and 
 fuel ; with strings for their bows, with thread, cord- 
 age, and trail-ropes for their horses, with coverings 
 for their saddles, with vessels to hold water, with 
 boats to cross streams, with glue, and with the 
 means of purchasing all that they desire 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 deadly, 
 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 
 
l6o THE OREGON TRAIL. 
 
 is celebrated, and the warriors go out by handfuls at 
 a time against the enemy. This fierce and evil 
 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, who are 
 scattered among the caves and rocks like beasts, 
 living on roots and reptiles. These latter have little 
 of humanity except the form ; but the proud and 
 ambitious Dahcotah warrior can sometimes boast of 
 heroic virtues. It is very seldom that distinction 
 and influence are attained among them by any other 
 course than that of arms. Their superstition, how- 
 ever, sometimes gives great power to those among 
 them who pretend to the character of magicians. 
 Their wild hearts, too, can feel the power of oratory, 
 and yield deference to the masters of it. 
 
 But to return. Look into our tent, or enter, if 
 you can bear the stifling smoke and the close atmos- 
 phere. There, wedged close together, you will see 
 a circle of stout warriors passing the pipe around, 
 joking, telling stories, and making themselves 
 merry, after their fashion. We were also infested 
 by little copper-colored naked boys and snake-eyed 
 girls. They would come up to us muttering certain 
 words, which, being interpreted, conveyed the con- 
 cise invitation, " Come and eat." Then we would 
 rise, cursing the pertinacity of Dahcotah hospitahty, 
 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 burdensome to me, as I 
 was scarcely able to walk from the eff"ects of illness, 
 and was, of course, poorly qualified to dispose of 
 twenty meals a day. Of these sumptuous banquets, 
 I gave a specimen in a former chapter, where the 
 
SCENES AT THE CAMP. l6l 
 
 tragical fate of the little dog was chronicled. So 
 bounteous an entertainment looks like an outgushing 
 of good-will ; but doubtless one-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, perchance, have bestowed an arrow upon us 
 besides. Trust not an Indian. Let your rifle be 
 ever in your hand. Wear next your heart the old 
 chivalric motto, '' Semper pa?'atiisy 
 
 One morning we were summoned to the lodge of 
 an old man, in good truth the Nestor of his tribe. 
 We found him half-sitting, half-rechning on a pile 
 of buffalo-robes ; his long hair, jet-black even now, 
 though he had seen some eighty winters, hung on 
 either side of his thin features. Those most con- 
 versant with Indians in their homes will scarcely 
 believe me when I affirm that there was dignity in 
 his countenance and mien. His gaunt but sym- 
 metrical 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 mental energies. I recalled, as I saw 
 him, the eloquent metaphor of the Iroquois sachem : 
 ' ' 1 am an aged hemlock ; the winds of an hundred 
 winters have whistled through my branches, and I 
 am dead at the top !" 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 stoiy is peculiar, and singularly 
 illustrative of a superstitious custom, that prevails in 
 full force aniong many of the Indian tribes. He 
 was one of a powerful family, renowned for their 
 warlike exploits. When a very young man he sub- 
 mitted 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 
 11 
 
1 62 THE OREGON TRAIL. 
 
 in a sequestered part of the Black Hills, he lay for 
 several days, fasting and praying to the Great Spirit. 
 In the dreams and visions produced by his weak- 
 ened 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 vis- 
 itor 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. He 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 thence- 
 forward 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, for an Indian is bound by iron superstitions. 
 From that time Le Borgne, which was the only name 
 by which we 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 transmitted his names, his feat- 
 ures, and many of his characteristic qualities to his 
 son. He was the father of Henry Chatillon's 
 squaw, a circumstance which proved of some ad- 
 vantage to us, as securing for us the friendship of a 
 family perhaps the most distinguished and powerful 
 in the whole Ogillallah band. Mahto-Tatonka, in 
 
SCENES AT THE CAMP. 1 63 
 
 his rude 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 a most impetuous and 
 inflexible resolution. His will was law. He was 
 politic and sagacious, and with true Indian craft he 
 always befriended the whites, well knowing that he 
 might thus reap great advantages for himself and his 
 adherents. When he had resolved on any course 
 of conduct, he would pay to the warriors the empty 
 compliment of calling them together to deliberate 
 upon it, and when their debates were over, he would 
 quietly state his own opinion, which no one ever dis- 
 puted. The consequences of thwarting his impe- 
 rious will were too formidable to be encountered. 
 Woe to those who incurred his displeasure ! He 
 would strike them or stab them on the spot ; and 
 this act, which if attempted by any other chief, 
 would instantly have cost him his Hfe, the awe in- 
 spired 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, by the 
 force of his dauntless resolution, raised himself to 
 power little short of despotic. His haughty career 
 came at last to an end. He had a host of enemies 
 only waiting for their opportunity of revenge, and 
 our old friend Smoke, in particular, together with all 
 his kinsmen, hated him most cordially. Smoke sat 
 one day in his lodge, in the midst of his own village, 
 when Mahto-Tatonka entered it alone, and ap- 
 proaching the dwelling of his enemy, called on him 
 in a loud voice to come out, if he were a man, and 
 fight. Smoke would not move. At this, Mahto- 
 Tatonka proclaimed him a coward and an old 
 woman, and striding close to the entrance of the 
 lodge, stabbed the chiefs best horse, which was 
 picketed there. Smoke was daunted, and even 
 
164 THE OREGON TRAIL. 
 
 this insult failed to call him forth. 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 around 
 some of the Fur 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 kinsmen 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 
 lodge, shouted to the combatants on both sides to 
 cease. Instantly — for the attack was preconcerted — 
 came the reports 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, and not likely soon 
 to cease. 
 
 Thus died Mahto-Tatonka, but he left behind him 
 a goodly army of descendants to perpetuate his re- 
 nown and avenge his fate. Besides daughters, he 
 had thirty sons, a number which need not stagger 
 the credulity of those who are best acquainted with 
 Indian usages and practices. We saw many of 
 them, all marked by the 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 
 
SCENES AT THE CAMP. 1 65 
 
 than any young man in the village. We of the 
 civiHzed world are not apt to attach much credit to 
 the latter species of exploits ; but 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 squaw, and if he chooses after^vard to 
 make an adequate present to her rightful proprietor, 
 the easy husband for the most part rests content, 
 his vengeance falls asleep, and all danger from that 
 quarter is averted. Yet this is esteemed but 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 gal- 
 lant and dashing fashion. Out of several dozen 
 squaws whom he had stolen, he could boast that he 
 had never paid for one, but snapping his fingers in 
 the face of the injured husband, had defied the ex- 
 tremity 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 one would always follow 
 him to war, and he was esteemed to have an unri- 
 valled charm in the eyes of the other. Perhaps 
 his impunity may excite some wonder. An arrow 
 shot from a ravine, a stab given in the dark, require 
 no great valor, and are especially suited to the In- 
 dian genius ; but Mahto-Tatonka had a strong pro- 
 tection. It was not alone his courage and auda- 
 cious will that enabled him to career so dashingly 
 among his compeers. His enemies did not forget 
 that he was one of thirty warlike brethren, all grow- 
 ing up to manhood. Should they wreak their anger 
 upon him, many keen eyes would be ever upon 
 them, many fierce hearts would thirst for their blood. 
 
1 66 THE OREGON TRAIL. 
 
 The avenger would dog their footsteps everywhere. 
 To kill Mahto-Tatonka would be no better than an 
 act of suicide. 
 
 Though he found such favor in the eyes of the 
 fair, he was no dandy. As among us, those of 
 highest worth and breeding are most simple in man- 
 ner and attire, so our aspiring young friend was in- 
 different to the gaudy trappings and ornaments of 
 his companions. He 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 singularly deep and strong. It 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 Hke 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 superb head-dress is adorned with a crest of 
 the war-eagle's feathers, rising in a waving ridge 
 above his brow, and sv/eeping far behind him. His 
 round white shield hangs at his breast, v/ith 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 his panoply, 
 he rides round and round within the great circle of 
 lodges, balancing 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 
 
SCENES AT THE CAMP. 1 67 
 
 scream in a thrill of delight, and old women yell 
 forth his name and proclaim his praises from lodge 
 to lodge. 
 
 Mahto-Tatonka, to come back to him, was the 
 best of all our Indian friends. Hour after hour and 
 day after day, when swarms of savages of every 
 age, sex, and degree beset our camp, he would lie 
 in our tent, his lynx-eye ever open to guard our 
 property from pillage. 
 
 The Whirlwind invited us one day to his lodge. 
 The feast was finished and the pipe began to circu- 
 late. It was a remarkably large and fine one, and 
 I expressed my admiration of its form and dimen- 
 sions. 
 
 "If the Meneaska likes the pipe," asked the 
 Whirlwind, " why does he not keep it ?" 
 
 Such a pipe among the Ogillallah is valued at the 
 price of a horse. A princely gift, thinks the reader, 
 and worthy of a chieftain and a warrior. The 
 Whirlwind's generosity rose to no such pitch. He 
 gave me the pipe, confidently expecting that I in 
 return should make him a present of equal or 
 superior value. This is the implied condition of 
 every gift among the Indians as among the Orient- 
 als, and should it not be complied with, the pres- 
 ent is usually reclaimed by the giver. So I ar- 
 ranged upon a gaudy calico handkerchief an assort- 
 ment of vermilion, tobacco, knives, and gunpow- 
 der, and, summoning the chief to camp, assured 
 him of my friendship, and begged his acceptance 
 of a slight token of it. Ejaculating " how ! how !" 
 he folded up the offerings and withdrew to his lodge. 
 
 Several days passed, and we and the Indians re- 
 mained encamped side by side. They could not 
 decide whether or not to go to the war. Toward 
 evening scores of them would surround our tent, a 
 picturesque group. Late one afternoon a party of 
 
1 68 THE OREGON TRAIL. 
 
 them mounted on horseback came suddenly in sight 
 from behind some ckimps of bushes that hned the 
 bank of the stream, leading with them a mule, on 
 whose back was a wretched negro, only sustained 
 in his seat by the high pommel and cantle of the 
 Indian saddle. His cheeks were withered and 
 shrunken in the hollow of his jaws ; his eyes were 
 unnaturally dilated, and his lips seemed shrivelled 
 and drawn back from his teeth like those of a 
 corpse. When they brought him up before our 
 tent, and lifted him from the saddle, he could not 
 walk or stand, but he 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 around us, and with screams and cries 
 made a close circle about him, while he sat support- 
 ing himself with his hands, and looking from side 
 to side with a vacant stare. The wretch was starv- 
 ing to death ! For thirty -three days he had wan- 
 dered alone on the prairie, wdthout weapon of any 
 kind ; without shoes, moccasons, or any other 
 clothing than an old jacket and pantaloons ; with- 
 out intelligence and skill to guide his course, or any 
 knowledge of the productions of the prairie. All 
 this 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. Utterly bewildered in the boundless, hope- 
 less desert that stretched around him, offering to 
 his inexperienced eye no mark by which to direct his 
 course, he had walked on in despair, till he could 
 walk no longer, and then crawled on his knees, until 
 the bone was laid bare. He chose the night for his 
 travelling, laying down by day to sleep in the glar- 
 ing 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 
 
SCENES AT THE CAMP. 1 69 
 
 white and red, was astonished at his wonderful 
 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 M. 
 Richard, who was then leaving the frontier for the 
 mountains. He had lived with Richard ever since, 
 until in the end of May he, with Reynal and several 
 other men, went out in search of some stray horses, 
 when he got separated from the rest in a storm, and 
 had never been heard of up 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 disgust- 
 ing to look upon. Delorier 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 in 
 a few seconds, and eagerly demanded meat. This 
 we refused, telling him to wait until morning ; but 
 he begged so eagerly that we gave him a small 
 piece, which he devoured, tearing it like a dog. 
 He said 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 diwd. po?nmes blaiiches, and place 
 them on the ground by his side. Still this was not 
 enough for him. When it grew dark he contrived 
 
I^O THE OREGON TRAIL. 
 
 to creep away between the legs of the horses and 
 crawl over to the Indian village, about a furlong 
 down the stream. Here he fed to his heart's con- 
 tent, and was brought back again in the morning, 
 when Jean Gras, the trapper, put him on horseback 
 and carried him to the fort. Ke managed to sur- 
 vive the effects of his insane greediness, and though 
 slightly deranged when he left this part of the 
 country, he was otherwise in tolerable health, and 
 expressed his firm conviction 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 
 streams, or walked out to visit the bands of horses 
 that were feeding over the prairie. Half the village 
 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 laughter and screaming. But when the 
 sun was just resting above the broken peaks, and 
 the purple mountains threw their prolonged shadows 
 for miles over the prairie ; when our grim old tree, 
 lighted by the horizontal rays, assumed an aspect 
 of peaceful repose, such as one loves after scenes 
 of tumult and excitement ; and when the whole land- 
 scape of swelling plains and scattered groves was 
 softened into a tranquil beauty, then our encamp- 
 ment presented a striking spectacle. Could Sal- 
 vator Rosa have transferred it to his canvas, it would 
 have added new renown to his pencil. Savage 
 figures surrounded our tent, with quivers at their 
 backs, and guns, lances, or tomahawks in their 
 hands. Some sat on horseback, motionless as 
 equestrian statues, their arms crossed on their 
 breasts, their eyes fixed in a steady, unwavering 
 
SCEiVES AT THE CAMP, 171 
 
 gaze upon us. Some stood erect, wrapped from 
 head to foot in their long white robes of buffalo-hide. 
 Some sat together on the grass, holding their shaggy 
 horses by a rope, with their broad dark busts ex- 
 posed 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 symmetry of their forms ; and I do not 
 exaggerate when I say that only on the prairie and 
 in the Vatican have I seen such faultless models of 
 the hum.an figure. See that warrior standing by the 
 tree, towering six feet and a half in stature. Your 
 eyes may trace the whole of his graceful and majestic 
 height, and discover no defect or blemish. With 
 his free and noble attitude, with the bow in his hand, 
 and the quiver at his back, he might seem, but for 
 his face, the Pythian Apollo himself. Such a figure 
 rose before the imagination of West, when on first 
 seeing the Belvidere in the Vatican, he exclaimed, 
 " By God, a Mohawk !" 
 
 When the sky darkened and the stars began to 
 appear ; when the prairie was involved in gloom, 
 and the horses were driven in and secured around 
 the camp, the crowd began to melt away. Fires 
 gleamed around, duskily revealing the rough trap- 
 pers and the graceful Indians. One of the families 
 near us would always be gathered about a bright 
 blaze, that displayed the shadowy dimensions of 
 their lodge and sent its lights far up among the 
 masses of foliage above, gilding the dead and ragged 
 branches. 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. 
 Vv^e could hear the monotonous notes of the drum 
 from the Indian village, with the chant of the war- 
 sone, deadened in the distance, and the long chorus 
 
172 THE OREGON TRAIL. 
 
 of quavering yells, where the war-dance was going 
 on in the largest lodge. For several nights, too, we 
 could hear wild and mournful cries, rising and dying 
 away like the melancholy voice of a wolf. They 
 came from the sisters and female relatives of Mahto- 
 Tatonka, who were gashing their limbs with knives 
 and bewaihng the death of Henry Chatillon's squaw. 
 The hour would grow late before all retired to rest 
 in the camp. Then the embers of the fires would 
 be glowing dimly, the men would be stretched in 
 their blankets on the ground, and nothing could be 
 heard but the restless motions of the crowded horses. 
 
 I recall these scenes with a mixed feehng of pleas- 
 ure and pain. At this time I was so reduced by ill- 
 ness that I could seldom walk without reeling like a 
 drunken man, and when 1 rose from my seat upon 
 the ground the landscape 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 by no means 
 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 activity of his legs, it 
 is more particularly inconvenient. Medical assist- 
 ance, of course, there was none ; neither had 1 the 
 means of pursuing a system of diet ; and sleeping 
 on damp ground, with an occasional drenching from 
 a shower, would hardly be recommended as bene- 
 ficial. I sometimes suffered the extremity of lan- 
 guor and exhaustion, and though at the time I felt 
 no apprehensions of the final result, I have since 
 learned that my situation was a critical one. 
 
 Besides other formidable inconveniences, I owe it 
 in a great measure to the remote effects of that un- 
 lucky disorder that from deficient eyesight I am 
 compelled to employ the pen of another in taking 
 down this narrative from m.y lips ; and I have 
 
SCENES AT THE CAMP. 1 73 
 
 learned very effectually that a violent attack of 
 dysentery on the prairie is a thing too serious for a 
 joke. 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 be- 
 thought me of starvation. During five days I sus- 
 tained life on one small biscuit a day. At the end 
 of that time I was weaker than before, but the dis- 
 order seemed shaken in its stronghold, and very grad- 
 ually I began to resume a less rigid diet. No sooner 
 had I done so than the sam.e detested symptoms re- 
 visited me ; my old enemy resumed his pertinacious 
 assaults, yet not with his fonner violence or con- 
 stancy, and though before I regained any fair por- 
 tion of my ordinary strength weeks had elapsed, 
 and months passed before the disorder left me, yet 
 thanks to old habits of activity, and a merciful 
 Providence, I was able to sustain myself against it. 
 I used to lie languid and dreamy before our tent, 
 and muse on the past and the future, and when 
 most overcome with lassitude, my eyes turned al- 
 ways toward the distant Black Hills. There is a 
 spirit of energy and vigor in mountains, and they 
 impart it to all who approach their presence. At 
 that time I did not know how many dark supersti- 
 tions and gloomy legends are associated with those 
 mountains in the minds of the Indians, but I felt 
 an eager desire to penetrate their hidden recesses, 
 to explore the awful chasms and precipices, the 
 black torrents, the silent forests, that I fancied were 
 concealed there. 
 
CHAPTER XII. 
 
 ILL LUCK. 
 
 " One touch to her hand, and one word in her ear, 
 When they reach'd the hall-door, and the charger stood 
 
 near ; 
 So light to the croupe the fair lady he swung, 
 So light to the saddle before her he sprung ! 
 ' She is won ! we are gone, over bank, bush, and scaur ; 
 They'll have fleet steeds that follow,' quoth young Loch- 
 invar." — Marmion. 
 
 A Canadian came from Fort Laramie and brought 
 a curious piece of intelligence. A trapper, fresh 
 from the mountains, had become enamored of a 
 Missouri damsel belonging to a family who with 
 other 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 they proceeded to carry into effect 
 with all possible dispatch. The emigrant party left 
 the fort, and on the next succeeding night but one en- 
 camped as usual, and placed a guard. A little after 
 midnight the enamored trapper drew near, mounted 
 on a strong horse, and leading another by the bridle. 
 Fastening both animals to a tree, he stealthily moved 
 toward the wagons, as if he were approaching 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. The sequel of the adventure 
 174 
 
ILL LUCK. 175 
 
 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 length the Whirlwind and his warriors deter- 
 mined to move. They had resolved after all their 
 preparations not to go to the rendezvous at La 
 Bonte'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 killed 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 deter- 
 mination left us in some embarrassment. Should 
 we go to La Bonte's camp, it was not impossible 
 that the other villages should prove as vacillating 
 and indecisive as the Whirlwind's, and that no as- 
 sembly whatever would take place. Our old com- 
 panion Reynal had conceived a liking for us, or 
 rather for our biscuit and coffee, and for the occa- 
 sional small presents which we made him. He was 
 very anxious that we should go with the village 
 which he himself intended to accompany. He de- 
 clared he was certain that no Indians would meet at 
 the rendezvous, and said, moreover, that it would 
 be easy to convey our cart and baggage through the 
 Black Hills. In saying this, he told, as usual, an 
 egregious falsehood. Neither he nor any white man 
 with us had ever seen the difficult and obscure de- 
 files through which the Indians intended to make 
 their way. I passed them afterward, and had much 
 ado to force my distressed horse along the narrow 
 ravines and through chasms where daylight could 
 scarcely penetrate. Our cart might as easily have 
 been conveyed over the summit of Pike's Peak. 
 Anticipating the difficulties and uncertainties of an 
 attempt to visit the rendezvous, we recalled the old 
 
176 THE OREGON TRAIL. 
 
 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 potent auxiliary, a spoonful of 
 whiskey, swallowed at short intervals, alone enabled 
 me to sit my hardy little mare Pauline through the 
 short journey 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 gloomy pre- 
 cipitous ridge of the Black Hills. We pushed for- 
 ward to the head of the scattered column, passing 
 the burdened travcmx, the heavily laden pack- 
 horses, the gaunt old women on foot, the gay young 
 squaws on horseback, the restless children running 
 among the crowd, old men, striding along in their 
 white buffalo-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 toward 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 Jean Gras the trapper. He was just arrived 
 from Fort Laramie, where he had been on a visit, 
 and said he had a message for us. A trader named 
 
ILL LUCK. 177 
 
 Bisonette, one of Henry's friends, was lately come 
 from the settlements, and intended to go with a 
 party of men to La Bonte's camp, where, as Jean 
 Gras assured us, ten or twelve villages 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 and held a council, 
 and in an evil hour resolved to go. 
 
 For the rest of that day's journey our course and 
 that of the Indians was the same. In less than an 
 hour we came to where the high barren prairie ter- 
 minated, sinking down abruptly in steep descent ; 
 and standing on these heights, we saw below us a 
 great level meadow. Laramie Creek bounded it on 
 the left, sweeping along in the shadow of the de- 
 clivities, and passing with its shallow and rapid 
 current just below us. We sat on horseback, wait- 
 ing and looking on, while the whole savage array 
 went pouring past us, hurrying down the descent, 
 and spreading themselves 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 passing on, pressing down, 
 and fording the stream with bustle and confusion. 
 On the edge of the heights sat half a dozen of the 
 elder warriors, gravely smoking and looking down 
 with unmoved faces on the wild and striking spec- 
 tacle. 
 
 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 at half a mile's distance. 
 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 chil- 
 dren and young girls were laughing gayly on the 
 
 12 
 
1/8 THE OREGON TRAIL. 
 
 outside of 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. 
 
 Shaw and I sat on the grass near the lodge of 
 Reynal. An old woman, with true Indian hospi- 
 tality, brought a bowl of boiled venison and placed 
 it before us. We amused ourselves with watching 
 half a dozen 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 peahng from the hills. A crowd of 
 horsemen appeared, rushing down their sides, and 
 riding at full speed toward the village, each warrior' s 
 long hair flying behind him 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 splendid. They wore superb 
 crests of feathers, and close tunics of antelope-skins, 
 fringed with the scalp-locks of their enemies ; their 
 shields too were often fluttering 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 they were in mourn- 
 ing 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 each of their 
 foreheads. 
 
 The warriors circled three times round the village ; 
 and as each distinguished champion passed, the old 
 
ILL LUCK. 179 
 
 women would scream out his name, in honor of his 
 bravery, and to incite the emulation of the younger 
 warriors. Little urchins, not two years old, followed 
 the warlike pageant with glittering eyes, and looked 
 with eager wonder and admiration at those whose 
 honors were proclaimed by the public voice of the 
 village. Thus early is the lesson of war instilled 
 into the mind of an Indian, and such are the stimu- 
 lants which excite his thirst for martial renown. 
 
 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. 
 
 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 toward the north with our three men, the 
 four trappers following us, with the Indian family 
 of Moran. We travelled until night. I suffered 
 not a little from pain and weakness. We encamped 
 among some trees by the side of a little brook, and 
 here during the whole of the next day we lay wait- 
 ing for Bisonette, but no Bisonette appeared. Here 
 also two of our trapper friends left us, and set out 
 for the Rocky Mountains. On the second morning, 
 despairing of Bisonette' s arrival, we resumed our 
 journey, traversing a forlorn and dreary monotony 
 of sun-scorched plains, where no living thing ap- 
 peared save here and there an antelope flying before 
 us like the wind. When noon came we saw an un- 
 wonted and most welcome sight ; a rich and luxuri- 
 ant growth of trees, marking the course of a little 
 stream called Horse- Shoe Creek. We turned gladly 
 toward it. There were lofty and spreading trees, 
 standing widely asunder, and supporting a thick 
 canopy of leaves, above a surface of rich, tall grass. 
 
l8o THE OREGON TRAIL. 
 
 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 leaves and boughs. I was thor- 
 oughly exhausted, and flung myself on the ground, 
 scarcely able to move. All that afternoon I lay in 
 the shade by the side of the stream, and those 
 bright woods and sparkling waters are associated in 
 my mind with recollections of lassitude and utter 
 prostration. When night came I sat down by the 
 fire, longing, with an intensity of which at this 
 moment I can hardly conceive, for some powerful 
 stimulant. 
 
 In the morning, as glorious a sun rose upon us 
 as ever animated that desolate wilderness. We ad- 
 vanced, and soon were surrounded by tall bare 
 hills, overspread from top to bottom with prickly- 
 pears and other cacti, that seemed like clinging 
 reptiles. A plain, flat and hard, and with scarcely 
 the vestige of grass, lay before us, and a line of 
 tall misshapen 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 
 fondly hoped to have found the Indians congregated 
 by thousands. We looked and listened anxiously. 
 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 
 through their midst ; 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. Soon we emerged upon 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 a bush 
 or a tree or anything that had life. We drew rein 
 
ILL LUCK. I»I 
 
 and gave to the winds our sentiments concerning 
 the whole aboriginal race of America. Our jom-ney 
 was in vain, and much worse than in vain. For 
 myself, I was vexed and disappointed beyond 
 measure ; as I well knew that a slight aggrava- 
 tion of my disorder would render this false step 
 irrevocable, and make it quite impossible to accom- 
 plish effectually the design which had led me an 
 arduous journey of between three and four thousand 
 miles. To fortify myself as well as I could against 
 such a contingency, I resolved that I would not 
 under any circumstances attempt to leave the coun- 
 try until my object was completely gained. 
 
 And where were the Indians ? They were as- 
 sembled in great numbers at a spot about twenty 
 miles distant, and there at that very moment they 
 were engaged in their warlike ceremonies. The 
 scarcity of buffalo in the vicinity of La Bonte's 
 camp, which would render their supply of provisions 
 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 feel- 
 ings ; so I followed at a quiet pace, but in no quiet 
 mood. We rode up to a solitary old tree, which 
 seemed the only place fit for an encampment. Half 
 its branches were dead, and the rest were so scan- 
 tily furnished with leaves that they cast but a meagre 
 and wretched shade, and the old twisted trunk alone 
 furnished sufficient protection from the sun. We 
 threw down our saddles in the strip of shadow that 
 it cast, and sat down upon them. In silent indig- 
 nation we remained smoking for an hour or more, 
 shifting our saddles with the shifting shadow, for the 
 sun was intolerably hot. 
 
CHAPTER XIIL 
 
 HUNTING INDIANS. 
 
 " I tread, 
 With fainting steps and slow, 
 Where wilds immeasurably spread 
 
 Seem lengtliening as I §o." — GOLDSMITH. 
 
 At last we had reached La Bonte's camp, toward 
 which our eyes had turned so long. Of all weary- 
 hours, those that passed between noon and sunset 
 of the day when we arrived there may bear away 
 the palm of excpisite discomfort. I lay under the 
 tree reflecting on what course to pursue, watching 
 the shadows which seemed never to move, and the 
 sun which remained fixed in the sky, and hoping 
 every moment to see the men and horses of Bison- 
 ette emerging from the woods, Shaw and Henry 
 had ridden out on a scouting expedition, and did 
 not return until the sun was setting. There was 
 nothing very cheering in their faces nor 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 Indian ; nothing but prai- 
 rie for twenty miles around us," Henry's horse 
 was quite disabled by clambering up and down the 
 sides of ravines, and Shaw's was severely fatigued. 
 
 After supper that evening, as we sat around the 
 fire, I proposed to Shaw to wait one day longer, in 
 hopes of Bisonette's arrival, and if he should not 
 come, to send Delorier with the cart and baggage 
 back to Fort Laramie, while we ourselves followed 
 the Whirlwind's village, and attempted to overtake 
 it as it passed the mountains. Shaw, not having 
 
 182 
 
HUNTING INDIANS. 1 83 
 
 the same motive for hunting Indians 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 extremely unpleasant, and, as I considered, 
 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, and en- 
 able me to accomplish my purpose by means less 
 objectionable. 
 
 The rifle of Henry Chatillon was necessary for 
 the subsistence of the party in my absence ; so I 
 called Raymond, and ordered him to prepare to set 
 out with me. Raymond 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, exactly like an owl's, expressing the 
 most impenetrable stupidity and entire self-confi- 
 dence. 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. Besides this, he knew very well how to han- 
 dle a rifle and picket a horse. 
 
 Through the following day the sun glared down 
 upon us with a pitiless, penetrating heat. The dis- 
 tant blue prairie seemed quivering under it. The 
 lodge of our Indian associates was baking in the 
 rays, and our rifles, as they leaned against the tree, 
 were too hot for the touch. There was a dead si- 
 lence through our camp and all around it, unbroken 
 except 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 buf- 
 
1 84 THE OREGON TRAIL. 
 
 falo-robes, and the old conjurer, who, with his hard, 
 emaciated face and gaunt ribs, was perched aloft 
 hke a turkey-buzzard among the dead branches 
 of an old tree, constantly on the lookout for ene- 
 mies. He would have made a capital shot. A 
 rifle bullet, skilfully planted, would have brought 
 him tumbling to the ground. Surely, I thought, 
 there could be no more harm in shooting such a 
 hideous old villain, to see how ugly he would look 
 when he was dead, than in shooting the detestable 
 vulture which he resembled. We dined, and then 
 Shaw saddled his horse. 
 
 "I will ride back," said he, "to Horse-Shoe 
 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. After supper, 
 Henry Chatillon and I lay by the fire, discussing 
 the properties of that admirable weapon, the rifle, 
 in the use of which he could fairly out-rival Leath- 
 erstocking himself. 
 
 It was late before I 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 presumed 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 felt no in- 
 clination to sleep. The moon was quivering on the 
 broad breast of the Platte ; nothing could be heard 
 except those low inexplicable sounds, like whisper- 
 ings 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 
 
HUNTING INDIANS. 1 85 
 
 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 Delorier?" 
 
 " 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, Delorier; stir up the fire, and get me 
 something to eat. 
 
 "Where's Bisonette .^" asked I. 
 
 "The Lord knows; there's nobody at Horse- 
 Shoe 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 in the stream. 
 Something startled his horse, who 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 soli- 
 tary work was performed in darkness. His mocca- 
 sons were worn to tatters and his feet severely lac- 
 erated. He sat down to eat, however, with the usual 
 equanimity of his temper 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. The horse, I may as well 
 mention here, was found the next morning by 
 Henry Chatillon. 
 
 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 
 
1 86 THE OREGON TRAIL. 
 
 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 Ray- 
 mond 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 pro- 
 cured 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, 
 holsters, with heavy pistols, were fastened. A pair 
 of saddle-bags, a blanket tightly rolled, a small 
 parcel of Indian presents tied up in a 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 m^ounted. 
 
 "I will meet you at Fort Laramie on the first 
 of August," said I to Shaw. 
 
 " That is," replied he, "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 he would have 
 succeeded if he had not encountered obstacles 
 against which his resolute spirit was of no avail. 
 Two days after I left him he sent Delorier 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 Indians 
 themselves. They followed along the base of the 
 mountains, at a loss in which direction to go. They 
 encamped there, and in the morning Shaw found 
 himself poisoned by ivy in such a manner that it 
 was impossible for him to travel. So they turned 
 
HUNTING INDIANS. 1 8/ 
 
 back reluctantly toward Fort Laramie. Shaw's 
 limbs were swollen to double their usual size, and 
 he rode in great pain. They encamped again within 
 twenty miles of the fort, and reached it early on the 
 following morning. Shaw lay seriously ill for a 
 week, and remained at the fort till I rejoined him 
 some time after. 
 
 To return to my own story. We shook hands 
 with our friends, rode out upon the prairie, and 
 clambering the sandy hollows that were channelled 
 in the sides of the hills, gained the high plains 
 above. If a curse had been pronounced upon the 
 land it could not have worn an aspect of more 
 dreary and forlorn barrenness. 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, had cracked into innumerable fissures and 
 ravines, that not a little impeded our progress. 
 Their steep sides were white and raw, and along 
 the bottom we several times discovered the broad 
 tracks of the terrific 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 
 of the prospect, save here and there a pine tree 
 clinging at the edge of a ravine, and stretching over 
 its rough, shaggy arms. Under the scorching heat, 
 these melancholy trees diffused their peculiar resin- 
 ous odor through the sultry air. There was some- 
 thing in it, as I approached them, that recalled old 
 associations : the pine-clad mountains of New Eng- 
 land, traversed in days of health and buoyancy, 
 rose like a reality before my fancy. In passing 
 that arid waste I was goaded with a morbid thirst 
 produced by my disorder, and 1 thought with a long- 
 
1 88 THE OREGON TRAIL. 
 
 ing desire on the crystal treasure poured in such 
 wasteful profusion from our thousand hills. Shutting 
 my eyes, I more than half-believed that 1 heard the 
 deep plunging and gurgling of waters in the bowels 
 of the shaded rocks. I could see their dark icy 
 glittering far down amid the crevices, and the cold 
 drops trickling from the long green mosses. 
 
 When noon came, vv^e 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 inter- 
 vals 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 Avater-birds were splashing in the 
 shallows, and filling the air with their cries and flut- 
 terings. The sun was just sinking among gold and 
 crimson clouds behind Mount Laramie. I well 
 remember how 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 to howl. One deep voice commenced, and 
 it was answered in awful responses from the hills, 
 the plains, and the woods along the stream above 
 and below us. Such sounds need not and do not 
 disturb one's sleep upon the prairie. We picketed 
 the mare and the mule close at our feet, and did 
 not awake until daylight. Then we turned them 
 loose, still hobbled, to feed for an hour before start- 
 ing. We were getting ready our morning's meal, 
 
HUNTING INDIANS. 1 89 
 
 when Raymond saw an antelope at half a mile's dis- 
 tance, 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 anything 
 happens to them, and you must keep within sight 
 of the camp." 
 
 Raymond promised, and set out with his rifle in 
 his hand. The animals had passed across the 
 stream, and were feeding am.ong the long grass on 
 the other side, much tormented by the attacks of the 
 numerous 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 recall 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 " Sacre !" 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 just distinguish the runaways, 
 still at full gallop. Returning to the fire, I sat down 
 at the foot of a tree. Wearily and anxiously hour 
 after hour passed away. The old loose bark dan- 
 gling from the trunk behind me flapped to and fro in 
 the wind, and the mosquitoes kept up their incessant 
 drowsy humming ; but other than this, there was no 
 sight nor sound of life throughout the burning land- 
 scape. The sun rose higher and higher, until the 
 shadows fell almost perpendicularly, and I knew 
 that it must be noon. It seemed scarcely possible 
 that the animals could be recovered. If they were 
 
190 THE OREGON TRAIL. 
 
 not, my situation was one of serious difficulty. Shaw, 
 when I left him, had decided to move that morning, 
 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 
 sound philosophy of yielding to disproportionate 
 obstacles, I resolved to continue in any event 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 the adoption of this resolu- 
 tion did not wholly allay my anxiety, for it involved 
 both uncertainty and danger. To remain stationary 
 and alone for three days, in a country full of dan- 
 gerous Indians, was not the most flattering of pros- 
 pects ; and protracted as my Indian hunt must be by 
 such delay, it was not easy to foretell its ultimate 
 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 curlew, 
 which, with their loud screaming, were wheeling 
 over my head, and now and then alighting upon 
 the prairie. I shot two of them, and was about re- 
 turning, when a startling 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. Instinctively I 
 threw forward the muzzle of my rifle. In a moment 
 the bushes were violently shaken, two heads, but 
 not human heads, protruded, and to my great joy I 
 recognized the downcast, disconsolate countenance 
 of the black mule and the yellow visage of Pauline. 
 
HUNTING INDIANS. I9T 
 
 Raymond came upon the mule, pale and haggard, 
 complaining of a fiery pain in his chest. I took 
 charge of the animals while he kneeled down by the 
 side of the stream to drink. He had kept the run- 
 aways in sight as far as the Side Fork of Laramie 
 Creek, a distance of more than ten miles ; and here 
 with great difficulty he had succeeded in catching 
 them. I saw that he was unarmed, and asked him 
 what he had done with his riile. It had encumbered 
 him in his pursuit, and he had dropped it on the 
 prairie, thinking that he could find it on his return ; 
 but in this he had failed. The loss might prove a 
 very formidable one. I was too much rejoiced, 
 however, at the recovery of the animals to think 
 much about it ; and having made some tea for Ray- 
 mond in a tin vessel which we had brought with us, 
 I told him that I would give him two hours for rest- 
 ing before we set out again. He had eaten nothing 
 that day ; but having no appetite, he lay down im- 
 mediately to sleep. I picketed the animals among 
 the richest 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, begrudging every moment 
 that passed. 
 
 The time I had mentioned expired, and I awoke 
 Raymond. We saddled and set out again, but first 
 we went in search of the lost rifle, and in the course 
 of an hour Raymond was fortunate enough to find 
 it. Then we turned westward, and moved over the 
 hills and hollows at a slow pace toward the Black 
 Hills. The heat no longer tormented us, for a cloud 
 was before the sun. Yet that day shall never be 
 marked with white in my calendar. The air began 
 to grow fresh and cool, the distant mountains frowned 
 more gloomily, there was a low muttering of thun- 
 der, and dense black masses of cloud rose heavily 
 
192 THE OREGON TRAIL. 
 
 behind the broken peaks. At first they were gayly 
 fringed with silver by the afternoon sun ; but soon 
 the thick blackness overspread the whole sky, and 
 the desert around us was wrapped in deep gloom. 
 I scarcely heeded it at the time, but now I cannot 
 but feel that there was an awful sublimity in the 
 hoarse murmuring of the thunder, in the sombre 
 shadows that involved the mountains and the plain. 
 The storm broke. It came upon us with a zigzag 
 blinding flash, with a terrific crash of thunder, and 
 with a hurricane that howled over the prairie, dash- 
 ing floods of water against us. Raymond looked 
 around, and cursed the merciless elements. 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 horizontal boughs formed a sort of pent- 
 house against the tempest. We found a practi- 
 cable passage, and hastily descending, fastened our 
 animals to some large loose stones at the bottom ; 
 then climbing up, we drew our blankets over our 
 heads, and seated ourselves 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 steadily. 
 At length Raymond grew impatient, and scram- 
 bling out of the ravine, he 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 around, ' ' 
 and again he descended and sat down by my side. 
 Some ten minutes elapsed. 
 
 "Go up again," said I, "and take another 
 
HUNTING INDIANS. 1 93 
 
 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 ravine, we loosened 
 the animals, who were standing up to their knees in 
 water. Leading them up the rocky throat of the 
 ravine, we reached the plain above. "Am I," 
 I thought to myself, "the same man who, a few 
 months since, was seated, a quiet student of belles- 
 lettres, in a cushioned arm-chair by a sea-coal 
 fire?" 
 
 All around us was obscurity ; but the bright spot 
 above the mountain-tops grew wider and ruddier, 
 until at length the clouds drew apart, and a flood of 
 sunbeams poured down from heaven, streaming 
 along the precipices, and involving them in a thin 
 blue haze, as soft and lovely 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 
 sunbeams 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 a hundred 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 lowered upon 
 us with so gloomy and awful a frown, now seemed 
 lighted up with a serene, benignant smile, and the 
 
 13 
 
194 THE OREGON TRAIL. 
 
 green waving undulations of the plain were glad- 
 dened with the rich sunshine. Wet, ill, and wearied 
 as I was, my spirit grew lighter at the view, and I 
 drew from it an augury of good for my future pros- 
 pects. 
 
 When morning came Raymond awoke coughing 
 violently, though I had apparently received no in- 
 jury. 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 the scanty shriv- 
 elled grass was not more than three or four inches 
 high, and the ground was of such unyielding hard- 
 ness that a host might have marched over it and 
 left scarcely a trace of its passage. Up hill and 
 down hill, and clambering through ravines, we con- 
 tinued our journey. As we were skirting the foot 
 of a hill I saw Raymond, who was some rods in 
 advance, suddenly jerking the reins of his mule. 
 Sliding from his seat, and running in a crouching 
 posture up a hollow, he disappeared ; and then in 
 an instant I heard the sharp cjuick 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 mo- 
 ments in vain, he stood still, as if despairing of 
 escape. His glistening eyes turned up toward 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 rejoiced that our exhausted stock of provisions 
 was renewed in such good time. 
 
 Gaining the top of a hill, we could see along the 
 
HUNTING INDIANS. 1 95 
 
 cloudy verge of the prairie before us lines of trees 
 and shadowy groves, that marked the course of 
 Laramie Creek. Some time before noon vv^e 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 clear and palpable impression of 
 an Indian moccason. Encouraged b)' this, we con- 
 tinued our search, and at last some appearances on 
 a soft surface of earth not far from the shore at- 
 tracted 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 small branch, 
 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 little branch 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 Ray- 
 mond 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 ; and 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 v/ith 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 
 
196 THE OREGON TRAIL. 
 
 an hundred and fifty lodge-fires, with bones and 
 pieces of buffalo-robes scattered around them, and 
 in some instances the pickets to which horses had 
 been secured still standing in the ground. Elated 
 by our success, we selected a convenient tree, and 
 turning the animals loose, prepared to make a meal 
 from the fat haunch of our victim. 
 
 Hardship and exposure had thriven with me 
 wonderfully. I had gained both health and strength 
 since leaving La Bonte's camp. Raymond and I 
 made a hearty meal together, 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 old ill luck had not ceased to follow 
 us close. As I was saddling Pauline, I saw that her 
 eye was as dull as lead, and the hue of her yellow 
 coat visibly darkened. I placed my foot in the stir- 
 rup to mount, when instantly she staggered and fell 
 flat on her side. Gaining her feet with an effort, 
 she stood by the fire with a drooping head. Whether 
 she had been bitten by a snake, or poisoned by 
 some noxious plant, or attacked by a sudden disor- 
 der, it was hard to say ; but at all events, her sick- 
 ness was sufficiently ill-timed and unfortunate. I 
 succeeded 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 re- 
 tained 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 full half a mile ; so 
 that its trail is nowhere clearly marked, and the task 
 of following it is made doubly wearisome and diffi- 
 
HUNTING INDIANS. 1 97 
 
 cult. By good fortune, plenty of large ant-hills, a 
 yard or more in diameter, were scattered over the 
 plain, and these were frequently broken by the foot- 
 prints of men and horses, and marked by traces of 
 the lodge-poles. The succulent leaves of the prickly- 
 pear, also, bruised from the same causes, helped a 
 little to guide us ; so, inch by inch, we moved along. 
 Often we lost the trail altogether, and then would 
 recover it again ; but late in the afternoon we found 
 ourselves totally at fault. We stood alone, without 
 a clue to guide us. The broken plain expanded for 
 league after league around us, and in front the long 
 dark ridge of mountains was stretching 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 smoke, slowly rolling 
 up into the clear air. 
 
 • ' I think, ' ' said Raymond, ' ' some Indians must be 
 there. Perhaps we had better go." But this plan 
 was not rashly to be adopted, and we determined 
 still to continue our search after the lost trail. Our 
 good stars prompted us to this decision, for we after- 
 ward 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 toward the 
 point where -Laramie Creek issues forth upon the 
 prairie. When we reached it, the bare tops of the 
 mountains were still brightened with sunshine. The 
 little river was breaking, with a vehement and 
 angry current, from its dark prison. There was 
 something in the near vicinity of the mountains, in 
 the loud surging of the rapids, wonderfully cheering 
 and exhilarating ; for although once as familiar as 
 
198 THE OREGON TRAIL. 
 
 home itself, they had been for months strangers to 
 my experience. There was a rich grass-plot by the 
 river' s bank, surrounded by low ridges, which would 
 effectually screen ourselves and our fire from the 
 sight of wandering Indians. Here, among the 
 grass, I observed numerous circles of large stones, 
 which, as Raymond said, were 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. 1 threw off my clothes, leaped in, 
 suffered 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 
 invigorating and refreshing that I mistook it for re- 
 turning health. "Pauline," thought I, as I led the 
 little mare up to be saddled, ' ' only thrive as I do, 
 and you and I will have sport yet among the buffalo 
 beyond these mountains." I3ut scarcely were we 
 mounted and on our way, before the momentary 
 glow passed. Again I hung as usual in my seat, 
 scarcely able to hold myself erect. 
 
 * ' Look yonder, ' ' said Raymond ; ' ' you see that 
 big 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 dis- 
 cerned 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 became numerous 
 and distinct. The gap terminated in a rocky gate- 
 Vv'ay, leading into a rough passage upward, between 
 two precipitous mountains. Here grass and weeds 
 were bruised to fragments by the throng that had 
 
HUNTING INDIANS. 1 99 
 
 passed through. We moved slowly over the rocks, 
 up the passage ; and in this toilsome manner we 
 advanced for an hour or two, bare precipices, hun- 
 dreds 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. Pauline 
 strained upward for a few yards, moaning and 
 stumbling, and then came to a dead stop, unable to 
 proceed farther. I dismounted, and attempted to 
 lead her ; but my own exhausted 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 exhausted, the 
 sweat-drops trickling from my forehead. Pauline 
 stood like a statue by my side, her shadow falling 
 upon the 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 glowing in the 
 sun, without a tree or a bush or a blade of grass to 
 cover their precipitous sides. The whole scene 
 seemed parched with a pitiless, insufferable heat. 
 
 After awhile I could mount again, and we moved 
 on, descending the rocky defile on its western side. 
 Thinking of that morning's journey, it has some- 
 times seemed to me that there was something ridic- 
 ulous in my position : a man, armed to the teeth, 
 but wholly unable to fight, and equally so to run 
 away, traversing a dangerous wilderness, on a sick 
 horse. But these thoughts were retrospective, for at 
 the time I was in too grave a mood to entertain a 
 very lively sense of the ludicrous. 
 
 Raymond's saddle-girth slipped ; and while I 
 proceeded he was stopping behind to repair the mis- 
 chief. I came to the top of a little declivity, where 
 
200 THE OREGON TRAIL. 
 
 a most welcome sight greeted my eye ; a nook of 
 fresh green grass nestled among the cliffs, sunny 
 clumps of bushes on one side, and shaggy old pine 
 trees leaning forward from the rocks on the other. 
 A shrill, familiar voice saluted me, and recalled me 
 to days of boyhood ; that of the insect called the 
 ' ' locust ' ' by New England school -boys, which 
 was fast 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, over- 
 arched by the cool green canopy. An icy stream 
 was pouring from its side into a wide basin of white 
 sand, from 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 plunging 
 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. Raymond'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 looking at the 
 place. Reynal and I had, I believe, hardly a feel- 
 ing in common. I disliked the fellow, and it per- 
 plexed 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 seemed no other 
 bond of sympathy than the slender and precarious 
 one of a kindred race. 
 
HUNTING INDIANS. 20I 
 
 In half an hour from this we were clear of the 
 mountains. There was a plain before us, totally 
 barren and thickly peopled in many parts with the 
 little 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 use, grander and more wild than 
 the last had been. Far out of the dense shrubbery 
 that 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 narrow passage on the 
 trail of the Indians, they impended frightfully on 
 one side, above our heads. 
 
 Our course was through dense woods, in the shade 
 and twinkling sunlight of overhanging boughs. 
 I would I could recall to mind all the startling combi- 
 nations that presented themselves, as winding from 
 side to side of the passage, to avoid its obstructions, 
 we could see, glancing at intervals through the foli- 
 age, the awful forms of the gigantic chffs, that 
 seemed at times to hem us in on the right and on 
 the left, before us and behind ! Another scene in 
 a few moments greeted us ; a tract of gay and 
 sunny woods, broken into knolls and hollows, en- 
 livened by birds and interspersed with flowers. 
 Among the rest I recognized the mellow whistle of 
 the robin, an old familiar friend, whom I had scarce 
 expected to meet in such a place. Bumble-bees too 
 were buzzing heavily about the flowers ; and of 
 these a species of larkspur caught my eye, more 
 appropriate, it should seem, to cultivated gardens 
 than to a remote wilderness. Instantly it recalled a 
 multitude of dormant and delightful recollections. 
 
 Leaving behind us this spot and its associations, 
 a sight soon presented itself characteristic of that 
 
202 THE OREGON TRAIL. 
 
 warlike region. 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 some- 
 what 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 their 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 re- 
 mained they were completely hidden by the bushes 
 and tall rank weeds. 
 
 Gradually the mountains drew apart, and the pas- 
 sage expanded into a plain, where again we found 
 traces of an Indian encampment. There were trees 
 and bushes just before us, and we stopped here for 
 an hour' s rest and refreshment. When we had fin- 
 ished 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 remarked that 
 we had better not go any farther. 
 
 "Why not?" asked I. 
 
 He said that the country was becoming very dan- 
 gerous, that we were entering the range of the Snakes, 
 Arapahoes, and Gros-ventre Blackfeet, and that if 
 any of their wandering parties should meet us, it 
 would cost us our lives ; but he added, with a blunt 
 fidehty that nearly reconciled me to his stupidity, 
 that he would go anywhere I wished. I told him to 
 bring up the animals, and mounting them we pro- 
 ceeded again. I confess that, as we moved for- 
 ward, the prospect seemed but a dreary and 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. 
 
HUNTING INDIANS. 203 
 
 Closer and closer the rocks gathered around us, 
 growing taller and steeper, and pressing more and 
 more upon our path. We entered at length a defile 
 which 1 never have seen rivalled. The mountain 
 was cracked from top to bottom, and we were creep- 
 ing along the bottom of the fissure, in dampness and 
 gloom, with the clink of hoofs on the loose shingly 
 rocks, and the hoarse murmuring of a petulant brook 
 which kept us company. Sometimes the water, 
 foaming among the stones, overspread the whole 
 narrow passage ; sometimes, withdrawing to one 
 side, it gave us room to pass dry-shod. Looking 
 up, we could see a narrow ribbon of bright blue sky 
 between the dark edges of the opposing cliffs. This 
 did not last long. The passage soon widened, and 
 sunbeams found their way down, flashing upon the 
 black waters. The defile would spread out to many 
 rods in width ; bushes, trees, and flowers would 
 spring by the side of the brook ; the cliffs would be 
 feathered with shrubbery that clung in every crev- 
 ice, and fringed with trees that grew along their 
 sunny edges. Then we would be moving again in 
 the darkness. The passage seemed about four miles 
 long, and before we reached the end of it the unshod 
 hoofs of our animals were lamentably broken, and 
 their legs cut by the sharp stones. Issuing from the 
 mountain we found another plain. All around it 
 stood a circle of lofty 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 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 
 
204 ^-^^ OREGON TRAIL, 
 
 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 too the 
 Indians would probably be found. We hoped on 
 that very night to reach the village. We were anx- 
 ious to do so for a double reason, wishing to bring 
 our wearisome journey to an end, and knowing, 
 moreover, that though to enter the village in broad 
 daylight would be a perfectly safe experiment, yet 
 to encamp in its vicinity would be dangerous. But 
 as we rode on the sun was sinking, and soon was 
 within half an hour of the horizon. We ascended 
 a hill and looked around us for a spot for our en- 
 campment. The prairie was like a turbulent 
 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 everywhere, 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 throughout its 
 course water was glistening darkly. 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 on either bank turned the barren prairie into 
 fertility, and here and there it spread into deep 
 pools, where the beaver had dammed it up. 
 
 We placed our last remaining piece of the ante- 
 lope before a scanty fire, mournfully reflecting on 
 our exhausted stock of provisions. Just then an 
 enormous gray hare, peculiar to these prairies, came 
 
HUNTING INDIANS. 205 
 
 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 In- 
 dians. 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 apprehensions 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 hi 11 -top, they 
 would probably have returned in the night to plun- 
 der us of our horses and perhaps of our scalps. But 
 we were on the prairie, where the genius loci is at 
 war with all nervous apprehensions ; and I presume 
 that neither Raymond nor I thought twice of the 
 matter that evening. 
 
 While he was looking after the animals, I sat by 
 the fire, engaged in the novel task of baking bread. 
 The utensils were of the most simple and primitive 
 kind, consisting of two sticks inclining over the bed 
 of coals, one end thrust into the ground while the 
 dough was twisted in a spiral form around the other. 
 Under such circumstances all the epicurean in a 
 man's nature is apt to awaken within him. I re- 
 visited in fancy the far-distant abodes of good fare, 
 not, indeed, Frascati's or the Trois Freres Proven- 
 ^aux, for that were too extreme a flight ; but no 
 other than the homely table of my old friend and 
 host, Tom Crawford, of the White Mountains. By 
 a singular revulsion, Tom himself, whom I well 
 remember to have looked upon as the impersonation 
 of all that is wild and backwoodsman-like, now ap- 
 peared before me as the ministering angel of com- 
 fort and good living. Being fatigued and drowsy, I 
 began to doze, and my thoughts, following the same 
 
206 THE OREGON TRAIL. 
 
 • 
 
 train of association, assumed another form. Half- 
 dreaming, I saw myself surrounded with the moun- 
 tains of New England, alive with water-falls, their 
 black crags cinctured with milk-white mists. For 
 this reverie I paid a speedy penalty ; for the bread 
 was black on one side and soft on the other. 
 
 For eight hours Raymond and I, pillowed on our 
 saddles, lay insensible as logs. Pauline's yellow 
 head was stretched over me when I awoke. I got up 
 and examined her. Her feet, indeed, were bruised 
 and swollen by the accidents of yesterday, but her 
 eye was brighter, her motions livelier, and her mys- 
 terious malady had visibly abated. We moved on, 
 hoping within an hour to come in sight of the In- 
 dian village ; but again disappointment awaited us. 
 The trail disappeared, melting away upon a hard 
 and stony plain. Raymond and I separating, rode 
 from side to side, scrutinizing every yard of ground, 
 until at length I discerned traces of the lodge-poles, 
 passing 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 Ray- 
 mond. 
 
 We rode out 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 all around, for the wolves had been mak- 
 ing merry over it, and had hollowed out the entire 
 carcass. It was covered with myriads of large 
 black crickets, and from its appearance must cer- 
 tainly have lain there for four or five days. The 
 sight was a most disheartening one, and I observed 
 to Raymond that the Indians might still be fifty 
 or sixty miles before us. But he shook his head, 
 and replied that they dared not go so far for fear of 
 their enemies, the Snakes. 
 
HUNTING INDIANS. 207 
 
 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 exposed to view, yet 
 not a buffalo nor an Indian was visible. 
 
 ' ' Do you see that ?' ' said Raymond ; ' ' now we 
 had better turn around. 
 
 But as Raymond's bourgeois thought otherwise, 
 we descended the hill and began to cross the plain. 
 We had come so far that I knew, perfectly well, 
 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 ' ' sur- 
 round ' ' ; yet no living game presented itself. At 
 length, however, an antelope sprang up and gazed 
 at us. We fired together, and by a singular fatality 
 we 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 provision left except a little 
 flour. We could discern several sm.all lakes, or 
 rather extensive pools of water, glistening in the 
 distance. As we approached them, wolves and an- 
 telope bounded away through the tall grass that 
 grew in their vicinity, and flocks of large white 
 plover flew screaming over their surface. Having 
 failed of the antelope, Raymond tried his hand at 
 the birds, with the same ill success. The water 
 also disappointed us. Its muddy margin was so 
 beaten up by the crowd of buffalo that our timorous 
 animals were afraid to approach. So we turned 
 
2o8 THE OREGON TRAIL. 
 
 away and moved toward 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 prai- 
 rie, offering no clue 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 around, I could discover 
 neither dent of hoof nor footprint nor trace of lodge- 
 pole, though the passage was encumbered by the 
 ghastly skulls of buffalo. We heard thunder mut- 
 tering ; a 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 peak of the Medicine- 
 Bow, 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 sud- 
 denly I could distinguish, a few dark spots on the 
 prairie, along the bank of the stream. 
 
 " Buffalo !" said I. Then a sudden hope flashed 
 upon me, and eagerly and anxiously I looked again. 
 
 "Horses!" exclaimed Raymond, with a tre- 
 mendous oath, lashing his mule forward as he 
 spoke. More and more of the plain disclosed 
 itself, and in rapid succession more and more horses 
 appeared, scattered along the river-bank, or feeding 
 in bands over the prairie. Then, suddenly stand- 
 ing in a circle by the stream, swarming with their 
 savage inhabitants, we saw rising before us the tall 
 
THE OGILLALLAH VILLAGE. 2O9 
 
 lodges of the Ogillallah. Never did the heart of 
 wanderer more gladden at the sight of home than 
 did mine at the sight of those wild habitations ! 
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 THE OGILLALLAH VILLAGE, 
 
 *' They waste as — ay — like April snow, 
 In the warm noon, we shrink away ; 
 And fast they follow, as we go 
 
 Towards the setting day." — BRYANT. 
 
 Such a narrative as this is hardly the place for 
 portraying the mental features of the Indians. The 
 same picture, slightly changed in shade and color- 
 ing, would serve, with very few exceptions, for all 
 the tribes that lie north of the Mexican territories. 
 But with this striking 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 wild 
 hordes that roam over the remote prairies, I had 
 extraordinary opportunities of observing them, and 
 I flatter myself that a faithful picture of the scenes 
 that passed daily before my eyes may not be devoid 
 of interest and value. These men were thorough 
 savages. Neither their manners nor their ideas 
 were in the slightest degree modified by contact with 
 civilization. They knew nothing of the power and 
 real character of the white men, and their children 
 would scream in terror at the sight of me. Their 
 religion, their superstitions, and their prejudices 
 were the same that had been handed down to them 
 from immemorial time. They fought with the same 
 14 
 
210 THE OREGON TRAIL. 
 
 weapons that their fathers fought with, and wore the 
 same rude garments of skins. 
 
 Great changes are at hand in that region. With 
 the stream of emigration to Oregon and Cahfornia, 
 the buffalo will dwindle away, and the large wan- 
 dering communities who depend on them for sup- 
 port must be broken and scattered. The Indians 
 will soon be corrupted by the example of the whites, 
 abased by whiskey, and overawed by military posts ; 
 so that within a few years the traveller may pass in 
 tolerable security through their country on the Pacific 
 Railroad. Its danger and its charm will have disj^p- 
 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 upon the plain, the side of the village 
 nearest us was darkened with a crowd of naked 
 figures gathering around the lodges. Several men 
 came forward to meet us. I could distinguish among 
 them the green blanket of the Frenchman Reynal. 
 When we came up the ceremony of shaking hands 
 had to be gone through with 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 forward together toward 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, that 
 long cords were 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 OGILLALLAH VILLAGE, 211 
 
 the village was somewhat smaller 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 brothers. The Whirlwind, too, had been un- 
 willing to come so far, because, as Reynal said, he 
 was afraid. Only half a dozen lodges had adhered 
 to him, the main body of the village setting their 
 chief's authority at naught, and tc 
 most agreeable to their inclinations. 
 
 ' ' What chiefs are there in the village now ?' ' 
 said 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 his name ? — the half-breed Shienne." 
 
 By this time we were close to the village, and I 
 observed 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 appearance. But I was touch- 
 ing upon delicate ground. 
 
 "My squaw's relations live in those lodges," 
 said Reynal, very warmly, " and there isn't a better 
 set in the whole village." 
 
 " Are there any chiefs among them ?" asked I. 
 
 "Chiefs?" said Reynal ; " yes, plenty !" 
 
 " What are- their names ?" I inquired. 
 
 "Their names? Why, there's the Arrow-Head. 
 If 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 figures stood silently gazing on us. 
 
212 THE OREGON TRAIL. 
 
 "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 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 them- 
 selves. 
 
 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 cov- 
 ered 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, cola !" 
 I requested Reynal to tell him that Raymond and I 
 were come to live with him. The Big Crow gave 
 another low exclamation. If the reader thinks that 
 we were intruding somewhat cavalierly, I beg him 
 to observe that 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 thronged with Indians, 
 who came crowding in to see us. The Big Crow 
 produced his pipe and filled it with the mixture of 
 tobacco and shoii^sasha, or red willow bark. Round 
 
THE OGILLALLAH VILLAGE. 21 3 
 
 and round it passed, and a lively conversation went 
 forward. Meanwhile a squav/ 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. Rapidly, 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 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 Reynal's lodge, though it hardly 
 deserved this 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 In- 
 dians gathered around us. 
 
 ' ' What is it, ' ' said I, " that makes the thunder ?' ' 
 
 " It' s my belief, ' ' said Reynal, ' * that it is 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 seemed to 
 produce some doubt and debate. There was evi- 
 dently a difference of opinion. At last old Mene- 
 Seela, or Red-Water, who sat by himiself at one 
 side, looked up with his withered face, and said he 
 had always known what the thunder was. It was a 
 great black bird ; and once he had seen it, in a 
 dream, swooping 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 ; 
 
214 ^-^^ OREGON TRAIL. 
 
 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 association which, among other 
 mystic functions, claimed the exclusive power and 
 privilege of fighting the thunder. Whenever a 
 storm which they wished to avert was threatening, 
 the thunder fighters would take their bows and 
 arrows, their guns, their magic drum, and a sort of 
 whistle, made out of the wing-bone of the war- 
 eagle. Thus equipped, they would run out and fire 
 at the rising cloud, whooping, 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, 
 kept moving straight onward, and 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 even- 
 ing. 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 centre. The pipe glowing brightly in the gloom 
 as it passed from hand to hand around the lodge. 
 Then a squaw would drop a piece of buffalo-fat on 
 the dull embers. Instantly a bright glancing flame 
 would leap up, darting its clear light to the very 
 apex of the tall conical structure, where the tops of 
 the slender poles that supported its covering of 
 leather were gathered together. It gilded the feat- 
 ures of the Indians, as with animated gestures they 
 
THE OGILLALLAH VILLAGE. 21 5 
 
 sat around it, telling their endless stories of war and 
 hunting. It 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 away, and fitful flashes from the 
 embers would illumine the lodge, and then leave it 
 in darkness. Then all the light would wholly fade, 
 and the lodge and all within it be involved again in 
 obscurity. 
 
 As I left the lodge next morning I was saluted by 
 howling and yelping from all around the village, 
 and half its canine population rushed forth to the 
 attack. Being as cowardly as they were clamorous, 
 they kept jumping around 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 
 moccason, 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 apprehension, I walked for- 
 ward 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 quar- 
 ters. Only one large white one remained, who kept 
 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 
 
2l6 THE OREGON TRAIL. 
 
 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 handkerchief, 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 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, 
 while he kept looking up at them with a face of in- 
 nocent surprise. 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 addi- 
 tional item of the repast. 
 
 The Big Crow's squaw was briskly at work sweep- 
 ing out the lodge for the approaching festivity. I 
 confided to my host himself the task of inviting the 
 guests, thinking that I might thereby shift from my 
 own shoulders the odium of fancied neglect and 
 oversight. 
 
 When feasting is in question, one hour of the day 
 serves an Indian as well as another. My enter- 
 tainment came off about eleven o'clock. At that 
 hour, Reynal and Raymond walked across the area 
 of the village, to the admiration 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 
 
THE OGILLALLAH VILLAGE. 21/ 
 
 moccasons, and substituted for my old buck-skin 
 frock a coat which I had brought with me in view of 
 such pubhc 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 together in 
 a close circle around the lodge. 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, always as- 
 signing a double share to the old men and chiefs. 
 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 dis- 
 criminating. The tea was well sweetened, and that 
 was all they cared for. 
 
 Now, the former part of the entertainment being 
 concluded, the time for speech-making was come. 
 The Big Crow produced a flat piece of wood on 
 which he cut up tobacco and shongsasha, 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 in- 
 terpreted by Reynal as I went on, and echoed by 
 
2l8 THE OREGON TRAIL. 
 
 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 !" 
 
 Here I was assailed by sharp twinges of con- 
 science, for I fancied I could perceive a fragrance 
 of perfumery in the air, and a vision rose before me 
 of white-kid gloves and silken moustaches with the 
 mild and gentle countenances of numerous fair- 
 haired young men. But I recovered myself and 
 began again. 
 
 ' ' While I was living in the Meneaska lodges, I 
 had heard of the Ogillallah, how great and brave a 
 nation they were, how they 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 
 
THE OGILLALLAH VILLAGE. 219 
 
 give them, and if any of them should come to the 
 fort before I went away, I would make them hand- 
 some 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 quite 
 long, but the following was the pith of it : 
 
 "He had always loved the whites. They were 
 the wisest people on earth. He believed they could 
 do everything, 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 ; but old Mene-Seela suddenly inter- 
 rupted 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 people shall do. We came over the 
 mountain to make our lodges for next year. Our 
 old ones are good for nothing ; they are rotten and 
 worn out. But we have been disappointed. 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 farther 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 
 
220 THE OREGON TRAIL. 
 
 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." 
 
 I could not help thinking that the old man relied 
 a little too much on the aid of allies, one of whom 
 was a coward, another a blockhead, and the third 
 an invalid. This speech produced a good deal of 
 debate. As Reynal 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 fol- 
 lowed, 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 for some time the old chief was walking around 
 the village, singing his song in praise of the feast, 
 after the usual custom of the nation. 
 
 At last the day drew to a close, and as the sun 
 went down the horses came trooping from the sur- 
 rounding plains to be picketed before the dwellings 
 of their respective masters. Soon within the great 
 circle of lodges appeared another concentric circle 
 of restless horses ; and here and there fires were 
 glowing and flickering amid the gloom, on the 
 dusky figures around them. I went over and sat by 
 the lodge of Reynal. The Eagle-Feather, who was 
 a son of Mene-Seela, and brother of my host the 
 Big Crow, was seated there already, and I 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 
 
THE OGILLALLAH VILLAGE. 221 
 
 head. So I, as well as the Indians themselves, fell 
 asleep that night without knowing whether we 
 should set out in the morning toward 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 
 movement was contemplated. Some of the lodges 
 were reduced to nothing but bare skeletons of poles ; 
 the leather covering of others was flapping in the 
 wind as the squaws were pulling 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 tacitly 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 moment before, nothing 
 now remained 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 hide, filled with dried 
 meat. Squaws bustled about in their busy prepara- 
 tions, 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 their tongues lolling 
 out, lay lazily panting and waiting for the time of 
 departure. Each warrior sat on the ground by the 
 decaying ernbers of his fire, unmoved amid all the 
 confusion, while he held in his hand the long trail- 
 rope of his horse. 
 
 As their preparations were completed, each 
 family moved off the ground. The crowd was 
 rapidly melting away. I could see them crossing 
 the river, and passing in quick succession along the 
 profile of the hill on the farther bank. When all 
 
222 THE OREGON TRAIL. 
 
 were gone, I mounted and set out after them, fol- 
 lowed by Raymond, and as we gained the summit, 
 the whole village came in view at once, straggling 
 away for a mile or more over the barren plains be- 
 fore us. Everywhere the iron points of lances were 
 glittering. The sun never shone upon a more 
 strange array. Here were the heavy-laden pack- 
 horses, some wretched old women 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 pleas- 
 ure as the Meneaska looked at her. Boys with 
 miniature bows and arrows were wandering over 
 the plains, little naked children were running 
 along on foot, and numberless dogs were scam- 
 pering among the feet of the horses. The young 
 braves, gaudy with paint and feathers, were riding 
 in groups among the crowd, and often galloping, 
 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 war- 
 riors, 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 pic- 
 turesque 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 scattered and disorderly, until, as we ap- 
 proached the foot of a hill, 1 saw the old men be- 
 fore mentioned seating themselves in a line upon 
 the ground, in advance of the whole. They 
 lighted a pipe and sat smoking, laughing, and tell- 
 
THE OGILLALLAH VILLAGE. 223 
 
 ing stories, while the people, stopping as they suc- 
 cessively 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 
 very 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 were 
 screaming, dogs yelping 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 flap- 
 ping over my head, and a sudden light that poured 
 in upon me. The camp was breaking up, and the 
 squaws were moving the covering 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 helpless condition was 
 once more forced upon me, and I found myself 
 scarcely able to stand. Raymond had brought up 
 Pauline and , the mule, and I stooped to raise my 
 saddle from the ground. My strength was quite in- 
 adequate to the task. "You must saddle her," 
 said I to Raymond, as I sat down again on a pile 
 of buffalo-robes : 
 
 " Et hsec etiam fortasse meminisse juvabit," 
 
 I thought, while with a painful effort I raised my- 
 
224 ^-^^ OREGON TRAIL. 
 
 self into the saddle. Half an hour after even the 
 expectation that Virgil's line expressed seemed des- 
 tined to disappointment. As we were passing over 
 a great plain, surrounded by long broken ridges, I 
 rode slowly in advance of the Indians, with thoughts 
 that wandered far from the time and from the place. 
 Suddenly the sky darkened, and thunder began to 
 mutter. Clouds were rising over the hills, as dreary 
 and dull as the first forebodings of an approaching 
 calamity ; and in a moment all around was wrapped 
 in shadow. I looked behind. The Indians had 
 stopped to prepare for the approaching storm, and 
 the dark, dense mass of savages stretched far to 
 the right and left. Since the first attack 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 probabihty 
 that I might never leave those deserts. "Well," 
 thought I to myself, * ' a 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 cham- 
 ber ; and a thousand times better than to drag out 
 life, as many have done, in the helpless inaction of 
 lingering 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 encamped 
 within an hour. Having no change of clothes, I 
 contrived to borrow a curious kind of substitute from 
 Reynal ; and this done, I went home, that is, to 
 the Bis" Crow's lodsre. to make the entire transfer 
 
THE OGILLALLAH VILLAGE. 225 
 
 that was necessary. Half a dozen squaws were in 
 the lodge, and one of them taking my arm held it 
 against her own, while a general laugh and scream 
 of admiration was raised at the contrast in the color 
 of the skin. 
 
 Our encampment that afternoon was not far dis- 
 tant 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 toward 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, toward 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 re- 
 ports of guns among the mountains to the eastward, 
 and many surmises were thrown out as to the origin 
 of these sounds. F'or my part, I was in hopes that 
 Shaw and Henry Chatillon Avere coming to join us. 
 I would have welcomed them cordially, for I had no 
 other companions than two brutish white men and 
 five hundred savages. I httle suspected that at that 
 ver}^ 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 were riding about the country as 
 scouts ; and at length we began to see them occasion- 
 ally on the tops of the hills, shaking their robes as a 
 signal that they saw buffalo. Soon after some bulls 
 came in sight. Horsemen darted away in pursuit, and 
 we could see from the distance that one or two of the 
 16 
 
226 THE OREGON TRAIL. 
 
 buffalo were killed. Raymond suddenly became 
 inspired. I looked at him as he rode by my side ; 
 his face had actually grown intelligent ! 
 
 "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 for- 
 tune in one winter. I'd grow as rich as old Papin 
 or Mackenzie, either. I call this the poor man's 
 market. When I'm hungry, I have only got to take 
 my rifle and go out and get better meat than tht 
 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, again looking intel- 
 ligent ; "the priests don't marry their women, and 
 why should I marry mine ?' * 
 
 This honorable mention of the Mexican clergy 
 introduced the subject of religion, and I found that 
 my two associates, in common with other white men 
 in the country, were as indifferent to their future wel- 
 fare 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 dig- 
 nitary. Reynal observed that a priest had been at 
 Fort Laramie two years ago, on his way to the Nez 
 Perce 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 settlements again." 
 
THE OGILLALLAH VILLAGE. 22/ 
 
 Here he interrupted himself with an oath, and 
 exclaimed : ' ' Look ! look ! The ' Panther ' is run- 
 ning 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 before him. The attempt was 
 made in mere sport and bravado, for very few are 
 the horses that can for a moment compete in swift- 
 ness with this little animal. The antelope ran down 
 the hill toward 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 incredible speed that he dis- 
 tanced all his pursuers, and even the vaunted horse 
 of the Panther himself. A few moments after, we 
 witnessed a more serious sport. A shaggy 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 of him. 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 an- 
 other ! You feel well, now, old bull, don't you, 
 with two arrows stuck in your lights ? There, he 
 has given him another ! Hear how the Hail-Storm 
 yells when he shoots ! Yes, jump at him ; try it 
 
228 THE OREGON TRAIL. 
 
 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 fu- 
 rious rush, and the Hail-Storm was put to flight, the 
 shaggy monster following close behind. The boy 
 clung to his seat like a leech, and secure in the 
 speed of his little pony, looked around toward us 
 and laughed. In a moment he was again alongside 
 of the bull, who was now driven to complete des- 
 peration. His eyeballs glared through his tangled 
 mane, and the blood flew from his mouth and nos- 
 trils. Thus, still battling with each other, the two 
 enemies disappeared over the hill. 
 
 Many of the Indians rode at full gallop toward 
 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 devouring 
 the marrow within ; others were cutting away pieces 
 of the liver and other approved morsels, and swal- 
 lowing them on the spot with the appetite of wolves. 
 The faces of most of them, besmeared Avith blood 
 from ear to ear, looked grim and horrible enough. 
 My friend, the White Shield, proffered me a marrow- 
 bone, so skilfully laid open that all the rich sub- 
 stance 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 
 
THE OGILLALLAH VILLAGE. 229 
 
 leave to decline. I noticed one little boy 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 bancjuets. The Indians would 
 look with abhorrence on any one who should par- 
 take indiscriminately of the newly-killed carcass. 
 
 We encamped that night, and marched westward 
 through the greater part of the following day. On 
 the next morning we again resumed our journey. 
 It was the seventeenth 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 necessary num- 
 ber of buffalo, and retreat as soon as possible from 
 the dangerous neighborhood. I pass by for the 
 present some curious incidents that occurred during 
 these marches and encampments. Late in the after- 
 noon 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 ac- 
 quainted 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 farther 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 ad- 
 vanced up the side of the stream. Mene-Seela 
 consulted an extraordinary 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 
 
230 THE OREGON TRAIL. 
 
 converse, as they often did during the march, the 
 old man picked up one of those enormous black 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 
 mountains, turn them to good account by making 
 them into a sort of soup, pronounced by certain un- 
 scrupulous trappers to be extremely rich. Holding 
 the bloated insect respectfully between his fingers 
 and thumb, the old Indian looked 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 embarrass- 
 ment. 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. 
 
 Toward 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 I was at the rear, I was one 
 of the last to reach this point. Lances were glitter- 
 ing, feathers fluttering, and the water below me was 
 crowded with men and horses passing through, 
 while the meadow beyond was swarming 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 is 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 is no plan of mine, 
 'camping in such a hole as this !" 
 
 The Indians also seemed apprehensive. High up 
 
THE OGILLALLAH VILLAGE. 23 1 
 
 on the top of the tallest bluff, conspicuous in the 
 bright evening sunlight, sat a naked warrior on 
 horseback, looking around, as it seemed, over the 
 neighboring country ; and Raymond told me that 
 many of the young men had gone out in different 
 directions as scouts. 
 
 The shadows had reached to the very summit of 
 the bluffs before the lodges were erected and the 
 village reduced again to quiet and order. A cry 
 was suddenly raised, and men, women, and chil- 
 dren came running out with animated faces, and 
 looked eagerly through the opening on 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 disap- 
 peared, and then others followed. These were 
 bands of buffalo-cows. The hunting-ground was 
 reached at last, and everything promised well for 
 the morrow's sport. Being fatigued and exhausted, 
 I went and 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 In- 
 dians 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 sol- 
 emnly, directly toward us. They were buffalo-bulls. 
 The wind blew from them to the village, and such 
 was their blindness and stupidity, that they were 
 advancing upon the enemy without the least con- 
 sciousness of his presence. Raymond told me that 
 two young men had hidden themselves with guns in 
 a ravine about twenty yards in front of us. The 
 two bulls walked slowly on, heavily swinging from 
 side to side in their peculiar gait of stupid dignity. 
 They approached within four or five rods of the 
 ravine where the Indians la> in ambush. Here at 
 
232 THE OREGON TRAIL. 
 
 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 huge 
 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 intelligent 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 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 expe- 
 dition. The other Indian shot at him from the 
 ravine, and then both the bulls were running 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, galloped 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 
 animating in the prospect of the general hunt that 
 was to take place on the morrow. 
 
CHAPTER XV. 
 
 THE HUNTING CAMP. 
 
 " The Perse owt of Northamberlande, 
 And a vowe to God mayde he, 
 That he wolde hunte in the mountayns 
 
 Off Chyviat within dayes thre, 
 
 In the mauger of doughte Dogles, 
 
 And all that ever with him be." 
 
 Chevy Chase. 
 
 Long 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 I 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 chilly and damp. The preparations for moving 
 were even more confused and disorderly 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 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, M^as 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 ad- 
 vanced only three or four miles up the little stream, 
 before each family assumed its relative place in the 
 
 233 
 
234 THE OREGON TRAIL. 
 
 great ring of the village, and all around the squaws 
 were actively at work in preparing the camp. But 
 not a single warrior dismounted from his horse. 
 All the men that morning were mounted on inferior 
 animals, leading their best horses by a cord, or con- 
 fiding them to the care of boys. In small parties 
 they began to leave the ground and ride rapidly 
 away over the plains to the westward. I had taken 
 no food that morning, and not being at all ambitious 
 of farther abstinence, I went into my host's lodge, 
 which his squaws had erected with wonderful 
 celerity, 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 pcinmican by the northern voy- 
 agers, and wasna 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 overlook a 
 wide extent of desolate and unbroken prairie, over 
 which, far and near, little parties of naked horse- 
 men 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 was whip- 
 ping on his horse, as if anxious to be the first to 
 reach the game. In such movements among the 
 Indians 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 
 
THE HUNTING CAMP. 235 
 
 straight forward, up hill and down hill, and through 
 the stiff, obstinate growth of the endless wild-sage 
 bushes. For an hour and a half the same red 
 shoulders, the same long black hair rose and fell 
 with the motion of the horses before me. Verj' 
 little was said, though once I observed an old man ' 
 severely reproving Raymond for having left his rifle 
 behind him, when there was some probabihty 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 v\'as 
 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 
 themselves to the ground, knelt on the sand, 
 snatched a hasty draught, and leaping back again 
 to their seats, galloped on again as before. 
 
 Meanwhile scouts kept in advance of the party ; 
 and now we began to see them on the ridge of the 
 hills, waving 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 
 waving 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 discovered. The excited Indians 
 now urged forward their tired horses even more 
 rapidly than before. Pauline, who was still sick 
 
236 THE OREGON TRAIL. 
 
 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 looking in that direction, I saw them 
 riding avv'ay 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 toward a dis- 
 tant hollow, where they could discern a small band 
 of buffalo which they meant to appropriate to them- 
 selves. I answered to the call by ordering Ray- 
 mond to turn back and follow me. He reluctantly 
 obeyed, though Reynal, who had relied on his 
 assistance in skinning, cutting 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, rode 
 in a dense body at some distance in advance. They 
 galloped forward, and a cloud of dust was 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 which he had ridden, 
 and leaped upon the fresh horse that 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 firmly round 
 his lower jaw, answered for the other. Eagle 
 feathers were dangling from every mane and tail, as 
 insignia of courage and speed. As for the rider, he 
 wore no other clothing than a light cincture at his 
 
THE HUNTING CAMP, 237 
 
 waist, and a pair of moccasons. He had a heavy 
 whip, with a handle of sohd elk-horn, and a lash 
 of knotted bull-hide, fastened to his wrist by an 
 ornamental 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 hun- 
 ters galloped away toward the left, in order to make 
 a circuit under cover of the hills, that the buffalo 
 might be assailed on both sides at once. The rest 
 impatiently 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, who were crowded together near the 
 bank of a wide stream that was soaking across the 
 sand-beds of the valley. This was a large circular 
 basin, sun scorched and broken, scantily covered 
 with herbage and encompassed 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 were aware of 
 their approach, and 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 descended the hill 
 other objects engrossed my attention. Numerous 
 old bulls were scattered over the plain, and ungal- 
 lantly deserting their charge at our approach, began 
 to wade and plunge through the treacherous quick- 
 sands of the stream, and gallop away toward the 
 hills. One old veteran was struggling behind all 
 the rest with one of his forelegs, which had been 
 broken by some accident, dangling about uselessly 
 at his side. His appearance, as he went shambling 
 along on three legs, was so ludicrous that I could 
 
238 THE OREGON TRAIL, 
 
 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 every awkward attempt. 
 Looking up, I saw the whole body of Indians fully 
 an hundred yards in advance. I lashed Pauline in 
 pursuit and reached them but just in time ; for as we 
 mingled among them, each hunter, as if by a com- 
 mon impulse, violently struck his horse, each horse 
 sprang forward convulsively, and scattering in the 
 charge in order to assail the entire herd at once, we 
 all rushed headlong upon the buffalo. 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 charg- 
 ing on one side, our companions had attacked the 
 bewildered and panic-stricken herd on the other. 
 The uproar and confusion lasted but for 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 each followed the 
 Indians, lashing their horses to furious speed, forcing 
 them close upon their prey, and yelling as they 
 launched arrow after arrow into their sides. The 
 large black carcasses were strewn thickly over the 
 ground. Here and there wounded buffalo were 
 standing, their bleeding sides feathered with arrows ; 
 and as I rode past them their eyes would glare, they 
 would bristle like gigantic cats, and feebly attempt 
 to rush up and gore my horse. 
 
 I left camp that morning with a philosophic reso- 
 lution. Neither I nor my horse was 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 impos- 
 sible to sit still ; and as four or five buffalo ran past 
 
THE HUNTING CAMP. 239 
 
 me in a line, I drove Pauline in pursuit. We went 
 plunging close at their heels through the water and 
 the quicksands, and, clambering the bank, chased 
 them through the wild-sage bushes that covered the 
 rising ground beyond. 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 poor 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 or 
 twelve yards of the hindmost. At this she faced 
 about, bristled angrily, and made a show of charg- 
 ing. I shot at her with a large holster pistol, and 
 hit her somewhere in the neck. Down she tumbled 
 into the ravine, whither her companions had de- 
 scended before her. 1 saw their dark backs appear- 
 ing and disappearing as they galloped along the 
 bottom ; then, one by one, they came scrambling 
 out on the other side, and ran off as before, the 
 wounded animal following with unabated speed. 
 
 Turning back, I saw Raymond coming on his 
 black mule to meet me ; and as we rode over the 
 field together, we counted dozens of carcasses lying 
 on the plain, in the ravines, and on the sandy bed 
 of the stream. Far away in the distance, horses 
 and buffalo were still scouring along, with little 
 clouds of dust rising behind them ; and over the 
 sides of the hills we could see long files of the 
 frightened animals 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 
 
240 THE OREGON TRAIL. 
 
 exception of the notch at the end, had entirely dis- 
 appeared in the animal. I asked him to give it to 
 me, and I 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. Ray- 
 mond 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 Ray- 
 mond seemed to have an instinctive perception of 
 the point on the horizon toward which we ought to 
 direct our course. Antelope were bounding on all 
 sides, and as is always the case in the presence of buf- 
 falo, they seemed to have lost their natural shyness 
 and timidity. Bands of them would run lightly up 
 the rocky declivities, and stand gazing down upon 
 us from the summit. At length we could distin- 
 guish 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 village itself until, ascending a grassy hill, 
 we found the circle of lodges, dingy with storms 
 and smoke, standing on the plain at our veiy feet. 
 
 I entered the lodge of my host. His squaw in- 
 stantly 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, av/oke 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 mocca- 
 sons and placed fresh ones on his feet ; then, out- 
 
THE HUNTING CAMP. 24 1 
 
 stretching his Hmbs, my host composed himself to 
 sleep. 
 
 And now the hunters, two or three at a time, 
 began to come rapidly in, and each, consigning his 
 horses to the squaws, entered his lodge with the air 
 of a man whose day's v/ork was done. The squaws 
 flung down the load from the burdened horses, and 
 vast piles of meat and hides were soon accumulated 
 before every lodge. By this time it was darkening 
 fast, and the whole village was illumined by the 
 glare of fires blazing all around. 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 before the fires, 
 but often they dispensed with this superfluous opera- 
 tion. Late into the night the fires were still glow- 
 ing upon the groups of feasters engaged in this sav- 
 age 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, Mene-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 morning, 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 village with whom I would have trusted myself 
 alone without suspicion, and the only one from 
 whom I should have received a gift or a service 
 without the certainty that it proceeded from an in- 
 terested motive. He was a great friend to the 
 16 
 
242 THE OREGON TRAIL. 
 
 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 to- 
 gether in his son's lodge, that he considered the 
 beaver and the whites the wisest people on earth ; 
 indeed, he was convinced they were the same ; and 
 an incident which had happened to him long before 
 had assured him of this. So he began the follow- 
 ing 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 
 accompanied his words with such admirable panto- 
 mime that translation was hardly necessary. 
 
 He said that when he was very young, and had 
 never yet seen a white man, he and three or four of 
 his companions were out on a beaver-hunt, and he 
 crawled into a large beaver-lodge to examine what 
 was there. Sometimes he was creeping 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 dis- 
 tance 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 noth- 
 ing, but soon he discerned something white before 
 him, and at length plainly distinguished three 
 people, 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 straight 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. 
 
THE HUNTING CAMP. 243 
 
 In a moment the nose of an old male beaver ap- 
 peared 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," continued the 
 old man, ' ' 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 reason 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 everything I know ; 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 en- 
 camped on 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, prevailed in the village. All 
 were on the alert. The young men were ranging 
 through 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 im- 
 pression that we were constantly on the watch, piles 
 of sticks and stones were erected on all the sur- 
 rounding hills, in such a manner as to appear, at a 
 distance, like sentinels. Often, even to 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 
 
244 ^-^^^ OREGON TRAIL. 
 
 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 chil- 
 dren, 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 ten- 
 ants. 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 that 
 were stretched upon the ground, scraping the hair 
 from one side and the still -adhering flesh from the 
 other, and rubbing into them the brains of the buf- 
 falo, in order to render them soft and pliant. 
 
 In mercy to myself and my horse, I never went 
 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 dis- 
 order. I was soon able to walk with ease. Ray- 
 mond and I would go out upon the neighboring 
 prairies to shoot antelope, or sometimes to assail 
 straggling buffalo, on foot ; an attempt in which we 
 met with rather indifferent success. To kill a bull 
 with a rifle-ball is a difficult art, in the secret of 
 which I was as yet very imperfectly initiated. 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 breakfast. The 
 breakfast was a substantial one. It consisted of the 
 rich, juicy hump -ribs of a fat cow ; a repast abso- 
 lutely unrivalled. It was roasting before the fire, 
 impaled upon a stout stick, which Reynal took up 
 and planted in the ground before his lodge ; when 
 
THE HUNTING CAMP. 245 
 
 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 y(5u know that ?" I asked. 
 
 " I dreamed so. I am as good at dreaming as an 
 Indian. There is 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 host's lodge, took down my rifle, walked out 
 a mile or two on the prairie, saw an old bull stand- 
 ing alone, crawled up a ravine, shot him, and saw 
 him escape. Then, quite exhausted and rather ill- 
 humored, I walked back to the village. By a strange 
 coincidence, Reynal' s prediction had been verified ; 
 for the first persons whom I saw were the two trap- 
 pers, 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 for a while 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 neigh- 
 boring 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 little hut, made of hides stretched 
 on poles, and entirely open in front. It was well 
 carpeted with soft buffalo-robes, and here we re- 
 mained, sheltered from the sun, surrounded by 
 various domestic utensils of Madame Pvlargot's 
 household. All was quiet in the village. Though 
 
246 THE OREGON TRAIL. 
 
 the hunters had not gone out that day, they lay 
 sleeping in their lodges, and most of the women 
 were silently engaged in their heavy tasks. A few 
 young men were playing at a lazy game of ball in 
 the centre 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 up 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 were 
 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 active 
 housewife, named Weah Washtay, or the Good 
 Woman, brought us a large bowel of wasna, and 
 went into an ecstasy of delight when I presented 
 her with a green glass ring, such as I usually wore 
 with a view to similar occasions. 
 
 The sun went down, and half the sky was glow- 
 ing fiery red, reflected on the little stream as it 
 wound away among the sage bushes. Some young 
 men left the village, 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 blazing 
 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 
 
THE HUNTING CAMP. 247 
 
 of the village. This was composed of the old 
 men and warriors of repute, who with their white 
 buffalo-robes drawn close around their shoulders, 
 sat together, 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, out 
 of gunpowder and charcoal, and the leaves of • ' Fre- 
 mont' s Expedition," rolled round a stout lead- 
 pencil. I waited till I contrived to get hold of the 
 large piece of burning bois-de-vacJie which the In- 
 dians kept by them on the ground for lighting their 
 pipes. With this I lighted all the fireworks at once, 
 and tossed them whizzing and sputtering into the air, 
 over the heads of the company. They all jumped 
 up and ran off with yelps of astonishment and con- 
 sternation. After a moment or two, they ventured 
 to come back one by one, and some of the boldest, 
 picking up the cases of burnt paper that were scat- 
 tered about, examined them with eager curiosity to 
 discover their mysterious secret. From that time 
 forward I enjoyed great repute as a " fire-medicine." 
 The camp was filled with the low hum of cheer- 
 ful voices. There were other sounds, however, of a 
 very different kind, for from a large lodge, lighted 
 up like a gigantic lantern by the blazing fire within, 
 came a chorus of dismal cries and wailings, long 
 drawn out, like the howling of Avolves, and a woman, 
 almost naked, was crouching close outside, crying 
 violently, and gashing her legs with a knife till they 
 were covered with blood. Just a year before, a 
 young man belonging to this family had gone out 
 with a war-party and had been slain by the enemy, 
 and his relatives were thus lamenting his loss. Still 
 other sounds might be heard ; loud earnest cries 
 
248 THE OREGON TRAIL. 
 
 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 a warlike expedition, 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 careless 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 scolding an old yellow 
 dog, who lay on the ground with his nose resting 
 between his paws, and his eyes turned sleepily up 
 to her face, as if he were pretending to give re- 
 spectful 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 were strong and 
 gentle when the load was put on your back, and you 
 never ran among the feet of the horses when 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 
 dangerous to act so. When you had got far out on 
 the prairie, and no one was near to help you, per- 
 haps 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. 
 
THE HUNTING CAMP. 249 
 
 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 un- 
 fortunate dog at one blow. This speech is worthy 
 of notice, as illustrating a curious characteristic of 
 the Indians ; the ascribing intelligence and a power 
 of understanding speech to the inferior animals ; to 
 whom, indeed, according to many of their tradi- 
 tions, 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, and the crowded population began 
 to disappear, I too walked across the village to the 
 lodge of my host, Kongra-Tonga. As I entered I 
 saw him, by the flickering blaze of the fire in the 
 centre, reclining half asleep in his usual place. His 
 couch was by no means an uncomfortable one. It 
 consisted of soft buffalo-robes, laid together on the 
 ground, and a pillow made of whitened deer-skin, 
 stuffed with feathers and ornamented with beads. 
 At his back was a light framework of poles and 
 slender reeds, against which he could lean with ease 
 when in a sitting posture ; and at the top of it, just 
 above his head, his bow and quiver were hanging. 
 His squaw, a laughing, broad-faced woman, ap- 
 parently had not yet completed her domestic 
 arrangements, for she was bustling about the lodge, 
 pulling over the utensils and the bales of dried 
 meats that were ranged carefully around it. Un- 
 happily, she and her partner were not the only 
 tenants of the dweUing ; 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 
 
250 THE OREGON TRAIL. 
 
 ground before it. Wrapping myself 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 chance issue of the game their orna- 
 ments, their horses, and as the excitement rose, 
 their garments, and even their weapons ; for desper- 
 ate gambling is not confined to the hells of Paris. 
 The men of the plains and the forests no less resort 
 to it as a violent but grateful relief to the tedious 
 monotony of their lives, which alternate between 
 fierce excitement and listless inaction. 1 fell asleep 
 with the dull notes of the drum still sounding on my 
 ear ; but these furious orgies lasted without inter- 
 mission 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 
 himself in a very disagreeable proximity. I im- 
 mediately repelled these advances by punching the 
 heads of these miniature savages with a short stick 
 which I always kept 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 repeated four or five 
 times in the course of the night. My host himself 
 was the author of another most 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 suc- 
 cess in life depends, whether in war, love, hunting, 
 or any other employment. These "medicines," 
 as they are called in that country, which are usually 
 communicated in dreams, are often absurd enough. 
 
THE HUNTING CAMP. 25 I 
 
 Some Indians will strike the butt of the pipe against 
 the ground every time they smoke ; others will 
 insist that everything they say shall be interpreted 
 by contraries ; and Shaw once met an old man who 
 conceived that all would be lost unless he compelled 
 every white man he met to drink a bowl of cold 
 water. My host was particularly fortunate in his 
 allotment. The Great Spirit had told him in a 
 dream that he must sing a certain song in the 
 middle of every night ; and regularly at about 
 twelve o'clock his dismal monotonous chanting would 
 awaken me, and 1 would see him seated bolt up- 
 right on his couch, going through his dolorous per- 
 formance with a most business-like air. There 
 were other voices of the night, still more inhar- 
 monious. Twice or thrice, between sunset and 
 dawn, all the dogs in the village, and there were 
 hundreds of them, would bay and yelp in chorus ; 
 a most 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 
 afterward, when descending the Arkansas on the 
 trail of General Kearney's army. The canine 
 uproar is, if possible, more discordant than that of 
 the wolves. Heard at a distance, slowly rising on 
 the night, it has a strange 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 from the 
 next lodge perhaps 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 but for a moment, and then 
 dies away into silence. 
 
 Morning came, and Kongra-Tonga, mounting his 
 horse, rode out v/ith the hunters. It may not be 
 
252 THE OREGON TRAIL. 
 
 amiss to glance at him for an instant in his domestic 
 character of husband and father. Both he and his 
 scjiiaw, hke 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 intolerance of restraint which lie at the 
 very 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 favor- 
 ite 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 manage 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 somewhat less exemplary. The squaw who 
 lived in the lodge with him had been his partner for 
 many years. She took good care of his children 
 and his household concerns. He liked her well^ 
 enough, and, as far as I could see, they never 
 quarrelled ; but all his w^armer affections were re- 
 served for younger and more recent favorites. Of 
 these he had at present only one, who lived in a 
 lodge apart from his own. One day while in his 
 camp, he became displeased with her, pushed her 
 out, threw after her her ornaments, dresses, and 
 everything she had, and told her to go home to her 
 
THE HUNTING CAMP. 253 
 
 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 
 afternoon, 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 intervals, and there 
 were other scars also, of a different character, on 
 his back and on either breast. They were the traces 
 of those formidable tortures which these Indians, in 
 common with a few other tribes, inflict upon them- 
 selves 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 
 Great Spirit. The scars upon the breast and back 
 were produced by running through the flesh strong 
 splints of wood, to which ponderous buffalo skulls 
 are fastened by cords of hide, and the wretch runs 
 forward with all his strength, assisted by two com- 
 panions, who take hold of each arm, until the flesh 
 tears apart and the heavy loads are left behind. 
 Others of Kongra-Tonga's scars were the result of 
 accidents ; but he had many which he received in 
 war. He was one of the most noted warriors in the 
 village. In the course of his life he had slain, as he 
 boasted to me, fourteen men ; and though, like other 
 Indians, he was a great braggart and utterly regard- 
 less of truth, yet in this statement common report 
 bore him out. Being much flattered by my inquiries, 
 he told me tale after tale, true or false, of his war- 
 like exploits ; and there was one among the rest illus- 
 trating the worst features of the Indian character too 
 
254 THE OREGON TRAIL. 
 
 well for me to omit it. Pointing out of the opening 
 of the lodge toward the Medicine-Bow Mountains, 
 not many miles distant, 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 chased the other 
 up the side of the mountain till they surrounded him 
 on a level place, and Kongra-Tonga himself jumping 
 forward 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 cutting 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 a great many 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, 
 he looked up into my face with the same air of 
 earnest simplicity which a little child would wear 
 in relating to its mother some anecdote of its youth- 
 ful experience. 
 
 Old Mene-Seela's lodge could offer another illus- 
 tration of the ferocity of Indian warfare. A bright- 
 eyed active little boy was living there. He had be- 
 longed 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 warriors had found 
 about twenty lodges of these Indians upon the plains 
 a little to the eastward of our present camp ; and 
 surrounding them in the night, they butchered men, 
 women, and children without mercy, preserving 
 only this little boy alive. He was adopted into the 
 old man's family, and was now fast becoming iden- 
 tified with the Ogillallah children, among whom he 
 
THE HUNTING CAMP. 255 
 
 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 forgot- 
 ten his old national antipathies, and was now both 
 in act and inclination an Ogillallah. 
 
 It will be remembered that the scheme of the 
 grand warlike combination against the Snake and 
 Crow Indians originated in this village ; and though 
 this plan had fallen to the ground, the embers of 
 the martial ardor continued to glow brightly. Eleven 
 young men had prepared themselves to go out 
 against the enemy. The fourth day of our stay in 
 this camp was fixed upon for their departure. At the 
 head of this party was a well-built, active little In- 
 dian, called the White Shield, whom I had always 
 noticed for the great neatness of his dress and ap- 
 pearance. His lodge too, though not a large one, was 
 the best in the village ; his squaw was one of the 
 prettiest girls, and altogether his dwelling presented 
 a complete model of an Ogillallah domestic estab- 
 lishment. 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 entertainment 
 was concluded, 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 most superb head-dress of feathers. 
 Taking this from its case, he put it on and stood 
 before me, as if conscious of the gallant air 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 
 
256 THE OREGON TRAIL. 
 
 number of good horses. He took up also a shield 
 gayly painted and hung with feathers. The effect 
 of these barbaric ornaments was admirable, for they 
 were arranged with no little skill and taste. His 
 quiver was made of the spotted skin of a small 
 panther, such as are common among the Black 
 Hills, from which the tail and distended claws were 
 still allowed to hang. The White Shield concluded 
 his entertainment in a manner characteristic of an 
 Indian. He begged of me a little powder and ball, 
 for he had a gun as well as bow and arrows ; but 
 this I was obliged to refuse, because 1 had scarcely 
 enough for my own use. Making him, however, a 
 parting present of a paper of vermilion, I left him 
 apparently quite contented. 
 
 Unhappily, on the next morning the White Shield 
 took cold, and was attacked with a violent inflam- 
 mation of the throat. Immediately he seemed to 
 lose all spirit, and though before no warrior in the 
 village had borne himself more proudly, he now 
 moped about from lodge to lodge with a forlorn and 
 dejected air. At length he came and sat down, 
 closely wrapped in his robe, before the lodge of Rey- 
 nal, but when he found that neither he nor 1 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 that had taken pos- 
 session of him. This vigorous 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 be- 
 fore Reynal's lodge, holding his throat with his hand. 
 For some time he sat perfectly silent with his eyes 
 
THE HUNTING CAMP. 257 
 
 fixed mournfully on the ground. At last he began 
 to speak in a low tone : 
 
 " 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 cannot 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 resolu- 
 tion, seemed to have lost all the accustomed fire 
 and spirit of his look, and hung his head as if in a 
 fit of despondency. 
 
 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 around the village, singing his war-song 
 in a loud hoarse voice amid the shrill acclamations 
 of the women. Then dismounting, he remained 
 for 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 fore- 
 noon, when the White Shield issuing from his lodge, 
 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," answered the White Shield in a 
 dejected voice. "I have 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. 
 17 
 
258 THE OREGON TRAIL. 
 
 The spirits of the dead came and threw stones at 
 him in his sleep." 
 
 If such a dream had actually taken place it might 
 have 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 in- 
 flict upon him. The whole power of an Indian's 
 nature would be summoned to encounter such a 
 trial ; every influence of his education from child- 
 hood 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 himself attacked by a mysterious evil, be- 
 fore whose insidious 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 
 disorder an Indian will often abandon himself to his 
 supposed destiny, pine away and die, the victim of 
 his own imagination. The same effect will often 
 follow from a series of calamities, or a long run of 
 ill success, and the sufferer has 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 which 
 he supposed to lie under the doom of misfortune. 
 
 Thus after all his fasting, dreaming, and calling 
 upon the Great Spirit, the White Shield's war-party 
 was pitifully broken up. 
 
CHAPTER XVI. 
 
 THE TRAPPERS. 
 
 " Ours the wild life, in tumult still to range, 
 From toil to rest, and joy in every change ; 
 The exulting sense, the pulse's maddening play, 
 That thrills the wanderer of the trackless way ; 
 That for itself can woo the approaching fight, 
 And turn what some deem danger to delight : 
 Come when it will we snatch the life of life ; 
 When lost, what recks it by disease or strife?" 
 
 The Corsair. 
 
 In speaking of the Indians, I have almost forgot- 
 ten two bold adventurers of another race, the trap- 
 pers Rouleau and Saraphin. These men were bent 
 on a most hazardous enterprise. A day's journey 
 to the westward was the country over which the 
 Arapahoes are accustomed to range, and for which 
 the two trappers were on the point of setting out. 
 These Arapahoes, of whom Shaw and I afterward 
 fell in with a large village, are ferocious barbarians, 
 of a most brutal and wolfish aspect ; and of late 
 they had declared themselves enemies to the whites, 
 and threatened death to the first who should venture 
 within their territory. The occasion of the declara- 
 tion was as follows : 
 
 In the previous spring, 1845, Col. Kearney left 
 Fort Leavenworth with several companies of dra- 
 goons, and marching with extraordinary celerity, 
 reached Fort Laramie, whence he passed along the 
 foot of the mountains to Bent's Fort, and then, 
 turning eastward again, returned to the point from 
 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 
 
 259 
 
26o THE OREGON TRAIL. 
 
 dispatched 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 great size and pov^'er of their horses. Among 
 the rest, the Arapahoes came in considerable num- 
 bers to the fort. They had lately committed numer- 
 ous acts of outrage, and Col. Kearney threatened 
 that if they killed any more white men he would 
 turn loose his dragoons upon them, and annihilate 
 their whole 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 prostrate on the ground, while others ran away 
 screaming with amazement and terror. On the fol- 
 lowing day they withdrew to their mountains, con- 
 founded with awe at the appearance of the dra- 
 goons, at their big gun which went off twice at one 
 shot, and the fiery messenger which they had sent 
 up to the Great Spirit. For many months they re- 
 mained 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 trapping 
 among the mountains. For this act it was impossi- 
 ble to discover a motive. It seemed to spring from 
 one of those inexplicable impulses which often 
 actuate Indians, and appear no better than the 
 mere outbreaks of native ferocity. No sooner was 
 the murder committed than the whole tribe were in 
 extreme consternation. They expected every day 
 that the avenging dragoons would arrive, little think- 
 ing that a desert of nine hundred miles in extent lay 
 between the latter and their mountain fastnesses. 
 A large deputation of them came to Fort Laramie, 
 
THE TRAPPERS. 26 1 
 
 bringing a valuable present of horses, in compensa- 
 tion for the lives of the murdered men. These 
 Bordeaux refused to accept. They then asked him 
 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 appeared. 
 A result followed which all those best acquainted 
 with Indians had predicted. They conceived that 
 fear had prevented Bordeaux from accepting their 
 gifts, and that they had nothing to apprehend from 
 the vengeance of the whites. From terror they rose 
 to the height of insolence and presumption. They 
 called the white men cowards and old women ; and 
 a friendly Dahcotah came to Fort Laramie and 
 reported that they were determined to kill the 
 first of the white dogs whom they could lay hands 
 on. 
 
 Had a military of^cer, intrusted with suitable 
 powers, been stationed at Fort Laramie, and having 
 accepted the offer of the Arapahoes to deliver up 
 the murderer, had ordered him to be immediately 
 led out and shot, in presence of his tribe, they 
 would have been awed into tranquillity, and much 
 danger and calamity averted ; but now the neigh- 
 borhood of the Medicine-Bow Mountain and the 
 region beyond it was a scene of extreme peril. 
 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 discern faint white columns of smoke ris- 
 ing against the dark base of the Medicine Bow. 
 Scouts were out immediately, and reported that 
 these proceeded from an Arapahoe camp, aban- 
 
262 THE OREGON TRAIL. 
 
 doned only a few hours before. Still the two trap- 
 pers continued their preparations for departure. 
 
 Saraphin was a tall, powerful fellow, with a sullen 
 and sinister countenance. His rifle had very prob- 
 ably drawn other blood than that of buffalo or even 
 Indians. Rouleau had a broad, ruddy face, marked 
 with as few traces of thought or of care as a child's. 
 His figure was remarkably square and strong, but 
 the first joints of both his feet were frozen off, and 
 his horse had lately thrown and trampled upon him, 
 by which he had been severely injured in the chest. 
 But nothing could check his inveterate propensity 
 for laughter and gayety. He went all day rolling 
 about the camp on his stumps of feet, talking and 
 singing and frolicking with the Indian women as 
 they were engaged at their work. In fact. Rouleau 
 had an unlucky partiality for squaws. He always 
 had one, whom he must needs bedizen with beads, 
 ribbons, and all the finery of an Indian wardrobe ; 
 and though he was, of course, obliged to leave her 
 behind him during his expeditions, yet this hazard- 
 ous necessity did not at all trouble him, for his dis- 
 position was the very 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 
 always 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 remark- 
 able for providence or self-restraint, whatever 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', Rouleau'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 be lounging about 
 
THE TRAPPERS. 263 
 
 the fort, or encamped with his friends in its vicinity, 
 lazily hunting or enjoying all the luxury of inaction ; 
 but when once in pursuit of the beaver, he was in- 
 volved in extreme privations and desperate perils. 
 When in the midst of his game and his enemies, 
 hand and foot, eye and ear, are incessantly active. 
 Frequently he must content 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 with- 
 draw to a distance under cover of the darkness, 
 that his disappointed 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 in the Rocky Mountains and their 
 vicinity. 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 undaunted met- 
 tle of New England, from which part of the country 
 he had come, he continued to follow his perilous 
 occupation. To some of the children of cities it 
 may seem strange that men with no object in view 
 should continue to follow a life of such hardship and 
 desperate adventure, yet there is a mysterious, re- 
 sistless charm in the basilisk eye of danger, and few 
 men perhaps remain long in that wild region with- 
 out learning to love peril for its own sake, and to 
 laugh carelessly in the face of death. 
 
 On the last day of our stay in this camp the trap- 
 pers were ready for departure. When in the Black 
 Hills they had caught seven beaver, 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 stirrups were attached, 
 
264 THE OREGON TRAIL. 
 
 while a buffalo-robe was rolled up behind them, and 
 a bundle of beaver traps slung at the pommel. 
 These, together with their rifles, their knives, their 
 powder-horns and bullet-pouches, flint and steel, and 
 a tin cup, composed their whole travelling equip- 
 ment. They shook hands with us and rode away ; 
 Saraphin, with his grim countenance, like a surly 
 bull-dog's, was in advance ; but Rouleau, clamber- 
 ing gayly into his seat, kicked his horse's sides, 
 flourished his whip in the air, and trotted briskly 
 over the prairie, trolling forth a Canadian song at 
 the top of his lungs. 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, anyhow." 
 
 This was the last I saw of them. 
 
 We had been for 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 procured in sufficient quantities 
 for making the next season's lodges ; but it re- 
 mained to provide the long slender poles on which 
 they were to be supported. These were only to be 
 had among the tall pine woods of the Black Hills, 
 and in that direction, therefore, our next move was 
 to be made. It is worthy of notice that amid the 
 general abundance which during this time had pre- 
 vailed in the camp, there were no instances of indi- 
 vidual privation; for although the hide and the 
 tongue of the buffalo belong by exclusive right to 
 the hunter who has killed it, yet anyone 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 otherwise perish 
 from starvation, is sustained in profuse abundance. 
 
THE TRAPPERS. 265 
 
 On the twenty-fifth of July, late in the afternoon, 
 the camp broke up, with the usual tumult and con- 
 fusion, and we were all moving once more, on 
 horseback and on foot, over the plains. We ad- 
 vanced, however, but a few miles. The old men, 
 who during the whole march had been stoutly strid- 
 ing along on foot in front of the people, now seated 
 themselves in a circle on the ground, while all 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 Ray- 
 mond, and sat down as usual along with them. 
 There was none of that reserve and apparent dignity 
 which an Indian always assumes when in council, 
 or in the presence of white men whom he distrusts. 
 The party, on the 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 
 withdrew 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. The circle of old men in the centre had 
 vanished. The warriors with glittering eyes came 
 darting, their weapons in their hands, out of the low 
 openings of the lodges, and running with wild yells 
 toward the farther end of the village. Advancing 
 a few rods in that direction, I saw a crowd in furious 
 agitation, while others ran up on every side to add 
 to the confusion. Just then I distinguished the 
 
266 THE OREGON TRAIL. 
 
 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 calHng to Raymond and 
 myself 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 like 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, clutching 
 his bow and arrows in one hand and his knife in the 
 other. At that instant he tripped and fell sprawl- 
 ing on his face, while his weapons flew scattering 
 away 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 the 
 tumult. As I approached the side of the brook, I 
 heard gun-shots behind me, and turning back, I 
 saw that the crowd had separated into two long 
 lines of naked warriors confronting each other at a 
 respectful distance, and yelHng and jumping about 
 to dodge the shot of their adversaries, while they 
 discharged bullets and arrows against each other. 
 At the same time certain sharp, humxming sounds in 
 the air over my head, like the flight of beetles on a 
 summer evening, warned me that the danger was 
 not wholly confined to the immediate scene of the 
 fray. So, wading through the brook, I joined 
 Reynal and Raymond, and we sat down on the 
 
THE TRAPPERS. 26/ 
 
 grass, in the posture of an armed neutrality, to 
 watch the result. 
 
 Happily it may be for ourselves, though quite 
 contrary to our expectation, the disturbance was 
 quelled almost as soon as it had commenced. 
 When I looked again, the combatants were once 
 more mingled together in a mass. Though yells 
 sounded occasionally from the throng, the firing had 
 entirely 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 pro- 
 claimed in a loud voice something which my two 
 companions were too much engrossed in their own 
 obsei-vations 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 
 arrows 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 during the 
 whole time. 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 nred. 
 
 In a quarter of an hour all was comparatively 
 quiet. A large circle of warriors was again seated 
 in the centre of the village, but this time I did not 
 venture to join them, because I could see that the 
 pipe, contrary to the usual order, was passing from 
 the left hand to the right around the circle ; a sure 
 
268 THE OREGON TRAIL. 
 
 sign that a ' ' medicine-smoke ' ' of reconciliation was 
 going forward, and that a white man would be an 
 unwelcome intruder. When I again entered the 
 still agitated camp it was nearly dark, and mournful 
 cries, howls, and wailings resounded from many 
 female voices. Whether these had any connection 
 with the late disturbance, or were merely lamenta- 
 tions for relatives slain in some former war expedi- 
 tions, 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 1 discovered what had given rise to 
 it. Among the Dahcotah there are many associa- 
 tions, or fraternities, connected with the purposes 
 of their superstitions, their warfare, or their social 
 life. There was one called ' ' The Arrow-Breakers, ' ' 
 now in a great measure disbanded and dispersed. 
 In the village there were, however, four men be- 
 longing to it, distinguished by the peculiar arrange- 
 ment of their hair, which rose in a high bristling 
 mass above their foreheads, adding greatly to their 
 apparent height, and giving them a most ferocious 
 appearance. 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 unarmed. 
 The Mad Wolf had taken a fancy to a fine horse 
 belonging to another Indian, who was 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 cus- 
 toms of the Dahcotah, the acceptance of this gift 
 involved a sort of obligation to make an equitable 
 return ; and the Tall Bear well understood that the 
 other had in view the obtaining; of his favorite buffalo- 
 
THE TRAPPERS. 269 
 
 horse. He, however, accepted the present without 
 a word of thanks, and having picketed the horse 
 before his lodge, he suffered day after day to pass 
 without making the expected return. The Mad 
 Wolf grew impatient and angry ; and at last, seeing 
 that his bounty was not likely to produce the desired 
 return, 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 that 
 he had given him, and lead him away. At this the 
 Tall Bear broke into one of those fits of sullen rage 
 not uncommon among the Indians. He ran up to 
 the unfortunate horse, and gave him three mortal 
 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 adver- 
 sary. 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 relatives, seeing his danger, ran 
 hastily to his assistance. The remaining three 
 Arrow-Breakers, on the other hand, came to the 
 aid of their associate. Many of their friends joined 
 them, the war-cry was raised on a sudden, and the 
 tumult became general. 
 
 The ' ' soldiers, ' ' who lent their timely aid in put- 
 ting it down, are by far 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 warriors 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 instant jeopardy of their 
 lives to strike or lay hands upon the meanest of their 
 
2/0 THE OREGON TRAIL. 
 
 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. 
 
 " To sit on rocks, to muse o'er flood and fell, 
 To slowly trace the forest's shady scene. 
 Where thinjjs that own not man's dominion dwell, 
 And mortal foot hath ne'er, or rarely been; 
 To climb tlie trackless mountain all unseen, 
 With the wild flock that never needs a fold ; 
 Alone o'er steeps and foaming falls to lean ; 
 This is not solitude ; 'tis but to hold 
 
 Converse with Nature's charms, and view her stores un- 
 rolled."— CHILDE Harold. 
 
 We travelled eastward for two days, and then the 
 gloomy ridges of the Black Hills rose up before us. 
 The village passed along for some miles beneath 
 their declivities, trailing out to a great length over 
 the arid prairie, or winding at times among small 
 detached hills of distorted shapes. Turning sharply 
 to the left, we entered a wide defile of the moun- 
 tains, 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 precipices and rocks, piled in utter disorder 
 one upon another, and with scarcely a tree, a bush, 
 or a clump of grass to veil their nakedness. The 
 restless Indian boys were wandering along their 
 edges and clambering up and down their rugged 
 sides, and sometimes a group of them would stand 
 
THE BLACK HILLS. 2/1 
 
 on the verge of a cliff and look down on the array 
 as it passed in review beneath them. As we ad- 
 vanced, 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 erected when, with their 
 usual precipitation, the Indians set about accom- 
 plishing the object that had Vjrought them there ; 
 that is, the obtaining poles for supporting their new 
 lodges. Half the population, men, women, and boys, 
 mounted their horses and set out for the interior of 
 the mountains. As they rode at full gallop over the 
 shingly rocks and into the dark opening of the defile 
 beyond, I thought I had never read or dreamed of a 
 more strange or picturesque cavalcade. We passed 
 between precipices more than a thousand feet high, 
 sharp and splintering at the tops, their sides beetling 
 over the defile or descending in abrupt declivities, 
 bristling with black 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 frequently 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 were diving 
 among trees, and then emerging 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 array swept past me in a moment, the 
 women with their gaudy ornaments tinkling as they 
 rode, the men whooping and laughing and lash- 
 
2/2 THE OREGON TRAIL. 
 
 ing 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, rat- 
 tling far amid the mountains. 
 
 After having ridden in this manner for six or eight 
 miles, the appearance of the scene began to change, 
 and all the declivities around us were covered with 
 forests of tall, slender pine trees. The Indians be- 
 gan to fall off to the right and left, and dispersed 
 with their hatchets and knives among these woods, 
 to cut the poles which they had come to seek. Soon 
 I was left almost alone ; but in the deep stillness of 
 those lonely mountains the stroke of hatchets 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 
 mountain. I was weak and weary, and made slow 
 progress, often pausing to rest, but after an hour had 
 elapsed, I gained a height, whence the little valley 
 out of w^hich I had climbed seemed like a deep, 
 dark gulf, though the inaccessible peak of the moun- 
 tain 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 crev- 
 ices, a wood of mossy, distorted trees and prostrate 
 
THE BLACK HILLS. 2Jl 
 
 trunks flung down by age and storms, scattered 
 among the rocks or damming the foaming waters 
 of the httle brook. The objects were the same, yet 
 they were thrown into a wilder and more starthng 
 scene, for the black crags and the savage trees 
 assumed a grim and threatening aspect, and close 
 across the valley the opposing mountain confronted 
 me, rising from the gulf for thousands of feet, with 
 its bare pinnacles and its ragged covering of pines. 
 Yet the scene was not without its milder features. 
 As I ascended, I found frequent little grassy ter- 
 races, and there was one of these close at hand, 
 across which the brook was stealing, beneath the 
 shade of scattered trees that seemed artificially 
 planted. Here I made a welcome discovery, no 
 other than a bed of strawberries, with their white 
 flowers and their red fruit, closely nestled among the 
 grass by the side of the brook, and I sat down by 
 them, hailing them as old acquaintances ; for among 
 those lonely and perilous mountains, they awakened 
 delicious associations of the gardens and peaceful 
 homes of far-distant New England. 
 
 Yet, wild as they were, these mountains were 
 thickly peopled. 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 recollected 
 the danger of becoming lost in such a place, and 
 therefore I fixed my eye upon one of the tallest 
 pinnacles of the opposite mountain. It rose sheer 
 
 18 
 
2/4 I^HE OREGON TRAIL. 
 
 upright from the woods below, and by an extraor- 
 dinary 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 his grim bristling muzzle. I 
 longed to take his scalp and carry it back with me, 
 as an appropriate trophy of the Black Hills, but be- 
 fore I 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 tree are bent to 
 the ground by the load of snow, and the dark 
 mountains are whitened with it. At that season 
 the mountain-trappers, returned from their autumn 
 expeditions, often build their rude cabins in the 
 midst of these solitudes, and live in abundance and 
 luxury on the game that harbors there. I have heard 
 them relate how, with their tawny mistresses, and 
 perhaps a few young Indian companions, they have 
 spent months in total seclusion. They would dig pit- 
 falls, and set traps for the white wolves, the sables, 
 and the 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 careless 
 ease and comfort before the blazing fire, and in the 
 morning shoot the elk and the deer from their very 
 door. 
 
CHAPTER XVIII. 
 
 A MOUNTAIN HUNT. 
 
 " Come, shall we go and kill us venison ? 
 And yet it irks me, the poor dappled fools, 
 Being native burgliers of this desert city, 
 Should in their own confines, with forked heads, 
 Have their round haunches gored." 
 
 As You Like It. 
 
 The camp was full of the newly cut lodge-poles ; 
 some, already prepared, were stacked together, 
 white and glistening, to dry and harden in the sun ; 
 others were lying 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 fitting 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 sho7ig- 
 sasha, the bark of which, mixed with tobacco, 
 they use for smoking. Reynal'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 along 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. 
 I'll bet the gray Wyandot pony against your mare 
 that we 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 take my squaw's old yellow horse ; 
 
 275 
 
2/6 THE OREGON TRAIL. 
 
 you can't whip her more than four miles an hour, 
 but she is as good for the mountains as a mule." 
 
 I mounted the black mule which Raymond usually 
 rode. She was a very fine and powerful animal, 
 gentle and manageable 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 se- 
 cretly 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. Though a strong frame and well- 
 compacted sinews had borne me through hitherto, it 
 was long since I had been in a condition to feel the 
 exhilaration of the fresh mountain-wind and the gay 
 sunshine that brightened the crags and trees. We 
 left the little valley and ascended a rocky hollow 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 moment, 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 vegetation. At length, however, we 
 came upon a forest tract, and had no sooner done 
 so than we heartily wished ourselves back among 
 the rocks again ; for we were on a steep descent, 
 
A MOUNTAIN HUNT. 2// 
 
 among trees so thick that we could see scarcely 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 ec^ual 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 de- 
 grees. Let him have a long 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 and 
 extraordinary. At one time he will clasp her affec- 
 tionately, to avoid the blow of a bough overhead ; 
 at another, he will throw himself back and fling his 
 knee forward against the side of her neck, to keep 
 it from being crushed between the rough bark of a 
 tree and the equally unyielding ribs of the animal 
 herself. Reynal was cursing incessantly during the 
 whole way down. Neither of us had the remotest 
 idea where we were going ; and though 1 have seen 
 rough riding, I shall ahvays 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 in luxury and ease over the white 
 pebbles and the rippling water, shaded from the 
 glaring sun by an overarching green transparency. 
 These halcyon moments were of short duration. 
 The friendly brook, turning sharply to one side, 
 went brawling and foaming dov/n the rocky hill into 
 an abyss, which, as far as we could discern, had 
 
2/8 THE OREGON TRAIL. 
 
 no bottom ; so once more we betook ourselves to the 
 detested woods. When next we came forth from 
 their dancing shadow and sunhght, we found our- 
 selves standing in the broad glare of day, on a high 
 jutting point of the mountain. Before us stretched 
 a long, wide, desert valley, winding away far amid 
 the mountains. No civilized eye but mine had ever 
 looked upon that virgin waste, Reynal was gazing 
 intently ; he began to speak at last : 
 
 "Many a time, when I was with the Indians, I 
 have been hunting for gold all through the Black 
 Hills. There's plenty of it here ; you may be 
 certain of that. I 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 
 mountains ; 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 these 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 explored deep ravines ; yet still, to my 
 companion's vexation 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 
 
A MOUNTAIN HUNT. 279 
 
 with the stiff wild-sage bushes, and marked with 
 deep paths made by the buffalo, who, for some in- 
 explicable reason, are accustomed to penetrate, in 
 their long grave processions, deep among the gorges 
 of these sterile mountains. 
 
 Reynal's eye was ranging incessantly among the 
 rocks and along the edges of the black precipices, 
 in hopes of discovering the mountain-sheep peering 
 down upon us in fancied security 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 in a moment 
 afterward a black-tailed deer, with his spreading 
 antlers, 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 toward the spot. I, being too weak to fol- 
 low, sat holding his horse and waiting the result. 
 I lost sight of him, then hea.rd the report of his rifle 
 deadened among the rocks, and finally saw him re- 
 appear, 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, in- 
 crusted at the bottom with white clay, dried and 
 cracked in the sun. Under this fair outside, Rey- 
 nal's eye detected the signs of lurking mischief. 
 He called me to stop, and then alighting, picked up 
 a stone and threw it into the ditch. To my utter 
 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 disappeared. 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 
 
28o THE OREGON TRAIL. 
 
 buffalo, in his blind and heedless walk, often plunges 
 into them unawares. Down he sinks ; one snort of 
 terror, one convulsive struggle, and the slime calmly 
 flows above his shaggy head, the languid undula- 
 tions 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 pass the abyss, and now the valley began to 
 open upon the plains which spread to the horizon 
 before us. On one of their distant swells we dis- 
 cerned three or four black 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 I want some glue myself." 
 
 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 outrun 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 off with the shock. Its sharp, spiteful report 
 rang for some moments in my ear. Being slightly 
 stunned, I lay for an instant motionless, and Reynal, 
 supposing 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 
 
A MOUNTAIN HINT. 28 1 
 
 began to rear and plunge with extreme violence ; 
 but being now well prepared for her, and free from 
 incumbrance, I soon reduced 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 from their view, 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 buffalo running away at full speed on 
 the right, and immediately after, the hunter him- 
 self, unsuccessful as before, came up and mounted 
 his horse in excessive ill humor. He cursed the 
 Black Hills and the buffalo, swore that he was a 
 good hunter, which, indeed, was true, and that he 
 had never been out before among those mountains 
 without killing two or three deer at least. 
 
 We now turned toward 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 directly 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 
 
282 THE OREGON TRAIL. 
 
 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 In- 
 dian relative, the Hail-Storm, his light graceful 
 figure reclining 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 cam.p. 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 tranquillity of Indian self-control ; 
 a self-control which prevents the exhibition of emo- 
 tion without restraining the emotion itself. It was 
 about two months since I had known the Hail- 
 Storm, and within that time his character had 
 remarkably developed. When I first saw him he 
 was just emerging from the habits and feelings of 
 the boy into the am.bition of the hunter and warrior. 
 He had lately killed his first deer, and this had 
 excited his aspirations after distinction. Since that 
 time he had been continually in search of game, 
 and no young hunter in the village had been so 
 active or so fortunate as he. It will perhaps be 
 remembered how fearlessly he attacked the buffalo- 
 bull as we were moving toward our camp at the 
 Medicine-Bow Mountain. All this success had pro- 
 duced a marked change in his character. As I 
 first remembered him he always shunned the society 
 of the young squaws, and was extremely bashful 
 and sheepish in their presence ; but now, in the 
 confidence of his own reputation, he began to as- 
 
A MOUNTAIN HUNT. 283 
 
 sume the airs and the arts of a man of gallantry. 
 He wore his red blanket dashingly over his left 
 shoulder, painted his cheeks every day with ver- 
 milion, 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 full standing of a 
 warrior. Gallantly as he began to bear himself 
 among the women and girls, he still was 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 
 a keen desire to flesh his maiden scalping-knife, 
 and I would not have encamped alone with him 
 without watching his movements with a distrustful 
 eye. 
 
 His elder brother, the Horse, was of a different 
 character. He was nothing but a lazy dandy. He 
 knew very well how to hunt, but preferred to live 
 by the hunting of others. He had no appetite for 
 distinction, and the Hail-Storm, though a few years 
 younger than he, already surpassed him in reputa- 
 tion. He had a dark and ugly face, and he passed 
 a great part of his time in adorning it with ver- 
 milion, and contemplating it by means of a little 
 pocket looking-glass which I gave him. As for the 
 rest of the day, he divided it between eating and 
 sleeping, and sitting in the sun on the outside of a 
 lodge. Here he would remain for hour after hour, 
 arrayed in all his finery, with an old dragoon's 
 sword in his hand, and evidently flattering himself 
 that he was the centre of attraction to the eyes of 
 the surrounding squaws. Yet he sat looking straight 
 forward with a face of the utmost gravity, as if 
 wrapped in profound meditation, and it was only by 
 the occasional sidelong glances which he shot at his 
 
284 THE OREGON TRAIL. 
 
 supposed admirers that one could detect the true 
 course of his thoughts. 
 
 Both he and his brother may represent a class in 
 the Indian community ; neither should the Hail- 
 Storm's friend, the Rabbit, be passed by without 
 notice. The Hail-Storm and he were inseparable ; 
 they ate, slept, and hunted together, and shared with 
 one another almost all that they possessed. If there 
 be anything that deserves to be called romantic in 
 the Indian character, it is to be sought for in friend- 
 ships such as this, which are quite common among 
 many of the prairie-tribes. 
 
 Slowly, hour after hour, that weary afternoon 
 dragged away. I lay in Reynal's lodge, overcome 
 by the listless torpor that pervaded the whole en- 
 campment. The day's work was finished, or if it 
 were not, the inhabitants had resolved not to finish 
 it at all, and all were dozing quietly within the shel- 
 ter of the lodges. A profound lethargy, the very 
 spirit of indolence, seemed to have sunk upon the 
 village. Now and then I could hear the low laugh- 
 ter of some girl from within a neighboring lodge, or 
 the small shrill voices of a few restless children, 
 who alone were moving in the deserted area. The 
 spirit of the place infected me ; I could not even 
 think consecutively ; I was fit only for musing 
 and reverie, when at last, like the rest, I fell 
 asleep. 
 
 When evening came, and the fires were lighted 
 round the lodges, a select family circle convened in 
 the neighborhood of Reynal's domicile. It was com- 
 posed entirely of his squaw's relatives, a mean and 
 ignoble clan, among whom none but the Hail-Storm 
 held forth any promise of future distinction. Even 
 his prospects were rendered not a little dubious by 
 the character of the family, less, however, from any 
 principle of aristocratic distinction than from the 
 
A MOUNTAIN HUNT. 285 
 
 want of powerful supporters to assist him in his 
 undertakings, and help to avenge his quarrels. 
 Raymond and I sat down along with them. There 
 were eight or ten men gathered around the fire, to- 
 gether with about as many women, old and young, 
 some of whom were tolerably good-looking. As the 
 pipe passed around among the men a lively conver- 
 sation went forward, more merry than delicate, and 
 at length two or three of the elder women (for the 
 girls were somewhat diffident and bashful) began to 
 assail Raymond with various pungent witticisms. 
 Some of the men took part, and an old squaw con- 
 cluded by bestowing on him a ludicrous nickname, 
 at which a general laugh followed at his expense. 
 Raymond grinned and giggled, and made several 
 futile attempts at repartee. Knowing the impolicy 
 and even danger of suffering myself to be placed 
 in a ludicrous light among the Indians, I maintained 
 a rigid inflexible countenance, and wholly escaped 
 their sallies. 
 
 In the morning I found, to my great disgust, that 
 the camp was to retain its position for another day, 
 I dreaded its languor and m^onotony, and to escape 
 it I set out to explore the surrounding mountains. 
 I was accompanied by a faithful friend, my rifle, 
 the only friend, indeed, on whose prompt assistance 
 in time of trouble I could implicitly rely. Most of 
 the Indians in the village, it is true, professed good 
 will toward the whites, but the experience of others 
 and my own observation had taught me the extreme 
 folly of confidence, and the utter impossibility of 
 foreseeing to what sudden acts the strange unbridled 
 impulses of an Indian may urge him. When among 
 this people danger is never so near as when you are 
 unprepared for it, never so remote as when you are 
 armed and on the alert to meet it at any moment. 
 Nothing offers so strong a temptation to their fero- 
 
286 THE OREGON TRAIL. 
 
 cious instincts as the appearance of timidity, weak- 
 ness, or insecurity. 
 
 Many deep and gloomy gorges, choked with trees 
 and bushes, opened from the sides of the hills, 
 which were shaggy with forests wherever the rocks 
 permitted vegetation to spring. A great number of 
 Indians were stalking along the edges of the woods, 
 and boys were whooping and laughing on the moun- 
 tain-sides, practising eye and hand, and indulging 
 their destructive propensities by following birds and 
 small animals and killing them with their little 
 bows and arrows. There was one glen stretching 
 up between steep cliffs far into the bosom of the 
 mountain. I began to ascend along its bottom, 
 pushing my way onward among the rocks, trees, 
 and bushes that obstructed it. A slender thread of 
 water trickled along its centre, which since issuing 
 from the heart of its native rock could scarcely have 
 been warmed or gladdened by a ray of sunshine. 
 After advancing for some time, I conceived myself 
 to be entirely alone ; but coming to a part of the 
 glen in a great measure free of trees and under- 
 growth, I saw at some distance the black head and 
 red shoulders of an Indian among the bushes above. 
 The reader need not prepare himself for a startling 
 adventure, for I have none to relate. The head 
 and shoulders belonged to Mene-Seela, my best 
 friend in the village. As I had approached noiselessly 
 with my moccasoned feet, the old man was quite 
 unconscious of my presence ; and turning to a point 
 where I could gain an unobstructed view of him, I saw 
 him seated alone, immovable as a statue, among 
 the rocks and trees. His face was turned upward, 
 and his eyes seemed riveted on a pine tree springing 
 from a cleft in the precipice above. The crest of 
 the pine was swaying to and fro in the wind, and its 
 long limbs waved slowly up and down, as if tKe tree 
 
A MOUNTAIN HUNT. 28/ 
 
 had life. Looking for a while at the old man, I was 
 satisfied that he was engaged in an act of worship, 
 or prayer, or communion of some kind with a super- 
 natural being. I longed to penetrate his thoughts, 
 but I could do nothing more than conjecture and 
 speculate. I knew that though the intellect of an 
 Indian can embrace the idea of an all-wise, all- 
 powerful Spirit, the Supreme Ruler of the universe, 
 yet his mind will not always ascend into communion 
 with a being that seems to him so vast, remote, and 
 incomprehensible ; and when danger threatens, when 
 his hopes are broken, when the black wing of sorrow 
 overshadows him, he is prone to turn for relief to 
 some inferior agency, less removed from the ordi- 
 nary scope of his faculties. He has a guardian 
 spirit, on whom he relies for succor and guidance. 
 To him all nature is instinct with mystic influence. 
 Among those mountains not a wild beast was prowl- 
 ing, a bird singing, or a leaf fluttering, that might 
 not tend to direct his destiny or give warning of 
 what was in store for him ; and he watches the world 
 of nature around him as the astrologer watches the 
 stars. So closely is he linked with it that his guar- 
 dian spirit, no unsubstantial creation of the fancy, 
 is usually embodied in the form of some living thing : 
 a bear, a wolf, an eagle, or a serpent ; and Mene- 
 Seela, as he gazed intently on the old pine tree, 
 might believe it to inshrine the fancied guide and 
 protector of his life. 
 
 Whatever was passing in the mind of the old man, 
 it was no part of sense or of delicacy to disturb him. 
 Silently retracing my footsteps, I descended the glen 
 until I came to a point where I could climb the steep 
 precipices that shut it in, and gain the side of the 
 mountain. Looking up, I saw a tall peak rising 
 among the woods. Something impelled me to climb ; 
 I had not felt for many a day such strength and 
 
288 THE OREGON TRAIL. 
 
 elasticity of limb. An hour and a half of slow and 
 often intermitted labor brought me to the very 
 summit ; and emerging from the dark shadows of 
 the rocks and pines, I stepped forth into the light, 
 and walking along the sunny verge of a precipice, 
 seated miyself on its extreme point. Looking be- 
 tween the mountain-peaks to the westward, the pale 
 blue prairie was stretching to the farthest horizon, 
 like a serene and tranquil ocean. The surrounding 
 mountains were in themselves sufficiently striking 
 and impressive, but this contrast gave redoubled 
 effect to their stern features. 
 
 CHAPTER XIX. 
 
 PASSAGE OF THE MOUNTAINS. 
 
 " Dear Nature is the kindest mother still, 
 Though always changing, in her aspect mild ; 
 From her bare bosom let me take my fill. 
 Her never-weaned, though not her favored child. 
 O, she is fairest in her features wild, 
 When nothing polished dares pollute her path ; , 
 On me by day and night she ever smiled. 
 Though I have marked her where none other hath. 
 
 And sought her more and more, and loved her best in 
 wrath."— Childe Harold. 
 
 When I took leave of Shaw at La Bonte's camp 
 I promised that I would meet him at Fort Laramie 
 on the first of August. That day, according to my 
 reckoning, was now close at hand. It was impos- 
 sible, at best, to fulfil my engagement exactly, and 
 my meeting with him must have been postponed 
 until many days after the appointed time had not 
 the plans of the Indians very well coincided with 
 my own. They, too, intended to pass the moun- 
 
PASSAGE OF THE MOUNTAINS. 289 
 
 tains and move toward the fort. To do so at this 
 point was impossible, because there was no opening ; 
 and in order to find a passage we were obhged to go 
 twelve or fourteen miles southw^ard. Late in the 
 afternoon the camp got in motion, defiling back 
 through the mountains along the same narrow pas- 
 sage by which they had entered. I rode in company 
 with three or four young Indians at the rear, and 
 the moving swarm stretched before me, in the ruddy 
 light of sunset, or in the deep shadow of the moun- 
 tains, far beyond my sight. It was an ill-omened 
 spot they chose to encamp upon. When they were 
 there just a year before, a war-party of ten men, 
 led by the Whirlwind's son, had gone out against 
 the enemy, and not one had ever returned. This 
 was the immediate cause of this season's warlike 
 preparations. I was not a little astonished when I 
 came to the camp at the confusion of horrible sounds 
 with which it was filled ; howls, shrieks, and wail- 
 ings were heard from all the women present, many 
 of whom, not content with this exhibition of grief 
 for the loss of their friends and relatives, were gash- 
 ing their legs deeply with knives. A warrior in the 
 village, who had lost a brother in the expedition, 
 chose another mode of displaying his sorrow. 
 The Indians, who though often rapacious, are utterly 
 devoid of avarice, are accustomed in times of mourn- 
 ing, or on other solemn occasions, to give away the 
 whole of their possessions, and reduce themselves 
 to nakedness and want. The warrior in question 
 led his two best horses into the centre of the village 
 and gave them away to his friends ; upon which, 
 songs and acclamations ih praise of his generosity 
 mingled with the cries of the women. 
 
 On the next morning we entered once more among 
 the mountains. There was nothing in their appear- 
 ance either grand or picturesque, though they were 
 19 
 
290 THE OREGON TRAIL. 
 
 desolate to the last degree, being mere piles of 
 black and broken rocks, without trees or vegetation 
 of any kind. As we passed among them along a 
 wide valley, I noticed Raymond riding by the side 
 of a young squaw, to whom he was addressing 
 various insinuating compliments. All the old 
 squaws in the neighborhood watched his proceed- 
 ings in great admiration, and the girl herself would 
 turn aside her head and laugh. Just then the old 
 mule thought proper to display her vicious pranks ; 
 she began to rear and plunge most furiously. Ray- 
 mond was an excellent rider, and at first he stuck 
 fast in his seat ; but the moment after 1 saw the 
 mule's hind-legs flourishing in the air, and my un- 
 lucky follower pitching head-foremost over her ears. 
 There was a burst of screams and laughter from all 
 the women, in which his mistress herself took part, 
 and Raymond w^as instantly assailed by such a 
 shower of witticisms that he was glad to ride for- 
 ward out of hearing. 
 
 Not long after, as I rode near him, I heard him 
 shouting to me. He was pointing toward a detached 
 rocky hill that stood in the middle of the valley 
 before us, and from behind it a long file of elk came 
 out at full speed and entered an opening in the side 
 of the mountain. They had scarcely disappeared 
 when whoops and exclamations came from fifty 
 voices around me. The young men leaped from 
 their horses, flung down their heavy buflalo-robes, 
 and ran at full speed toward the foot of the nearest 
 mountain. Reynal also broke away at a gallop in 
 the same direction, "Come on! come on!" he 
 called to us. " Do you see that band of big-horn 
 up yonder? If there's one of them, there's a 
 hundred !" 
 
 In fact, near the summit of the mountain, I could 
 see a large number of small white objects, moving 
 
PASSAGE OF THE AW UN TAINS. 29 I 
 
 rapidly upward among the precipices, while others 
 were filing along its rocky profile. Anxious to see 
 the sport, I galloped forward, and entering a pas- 
 sage in the side of the mountain, ascended among 
 the loose rocks as far as my horse could carry me. 
 Here I fastened her to an old pine tree that stood 
 alone, scorching in the sun. At that moment Ray- 
 mond called to me from the right that another band 
 of sheep was close at hand in that direction. I ran 
 up to the top of the opening, which gave me a full 
 view into the rocky gorge beyond ; and here I 
 plainly saw some fifty or sixty sheep, almost within 
 rifle-shot, clattering upward among the rocks, and 
 endeavoring, after their usual custom, to reach the 
 highest point. The naked Indians bounded up 
 lightly in pursuit. In a moment the game and 
 hunters disappeared. Nothing could be seen or 
 heard but the occasional report of a gun, more and 
 more distant, reverberating among the rocks. 
 
 I turned to descend, and as I did so I could see 
 the valley below alive with Indians passing rapidly 
 through it, on horseback and on foot. A little far- 
 ther on, all were stopping as they came up ; the 
 camp was preparing, and the lodges rising. I de- 
 scended to this spot, and soon after Reynal and 
 Raymond returned. They bore between them a 
 sheep which they had pelted to death with stones 
 from the edge of a ravine, along the bottom of 
 which it was attempting to escape. One by one the 
 hunters came dropping in ; yet such is the activity 
 of the Rocky Mountain sheep, that although sixty 
 or seventy men were out in pursuit, not more than 
 half a dozen animals were killed. Of these only 
 one was a full grown male. He had a pair of horns 
 twisted like a ram's, the dimensions of which were 
 almost beyond belief. I have seen among the 
 Indians ladles with long handles, capable of con- 
 
292 THE OREGON TRAIL. 
 
 taining more than a quart, cut out from such 
 horns. 
 
 There is something pecuharly interesting in the 
 character and habits of the mountain-sheep, whose 
 chosen retreats are above the region of vegetation 
 and of storms, and who leap among the giddy 
 precipices of their aerial home as actively as the an- 
 telope skims over the prairies below. 
 
 Through the whole of the next morning we were 
 moving forward among the hills. On the following 
 day the heights gathered around us, and the passage 
 of the mountains began in earnest. Before the vil- 
 lage left its camping-ground, I set forward in com- 
 pany with the Eagle-Feather, a man of powerful 
 frame, but of bad and sinister face. His son, a 
 light-limbed boy, rode with us, and another Indian, 
 named the Panther, was also of the party. Leav- 
 ing the village out of sight behind us, we rode to- 
 gether up a rocky defile. After a while, however, 
 the Eagle-Feather discovered in the distance some 
 appearance of game, and set off with his son in 
 pursuit of it, while I went forward with the Panther. 
 This was a mere nom de guerre ; for, like many In- 
 dians, he concealed his real name out of some 
 superstitious notion. He was a very noble looking 
 fellow. As he suffered his ornamented buffalo-robe 
 to fall in folds about his loins, his stately and grace- 
 ful figure was fully displayed ; and while he sat his 
 horse in an easy attitude, the long feathers of the 
 prairie-cock fluttering from the crown of his head, 
 he seemed the very model of a wild prairie-rider. 
 He had not the same features with those of other 
 Indians. Unless his handsome face greatly belied 
 him, he was free from the jealousy, suspicion, and 
 malignant cunning of his people. For the most 
 part, a civilized- white man can discover but very 
 few points of sympathy between his own nature and 
 
PASSAGE OF THE MOUNTAINS. 293 
 
 that of an Indian. With every disposition to do 
 justice to their good quahties, he must be conscious 
 that an impassable gulf lies between him and his 
 red brethren of the prairie. Nay, so alien to him- 
 self do they appear, that having breathed for a few 
 months or a few weeks the air of this region, he 
 begins to look upon them as a troublesome and dan- 
 gerous species of wild beast, and if expedient, he 
 could shoot them with as little compunction as they 
 themselves would experience after performing the 
 same office upon him. Yet, in the countenance of 
 the Panther, I gladly read that there were at least 
 some points of sympathy between him and me. 
 We were excellent friends, and as we rode forward 
 together through rocky passages, deep dells, and 
 little barren plains, he occupied himself very zeal- 
 ously in teaching me the Dahcotah language. After 
 a while we came to a little grassy recess, w^here some 
 gooseberry-bushes were growing at the foot of a 
 rock : and these offered such temptation to my com- 
 panion, that he gave over his instruction, and 
 stopped so long to gather the fruit that before we 
 were in motion again the van of the village came in 
 view. An old woman appeared, leading down her 
 pack-horse among the rocks above. Savage after 
 savage followed, and the little dell was soon crowded 
 with the throng. 
 
 That morning's march was one not easily to be 
 forgotten. It led us through a sublime waste, a 
 wilderness of mountains and pine forests, over 
 which the spirit of loneliness and silence seemed 
 brooding. Above and below little could be seen 
 but the same dark green foliage. It overspread the 
 valleys, and the mountains were clothed with it, 
 from the black rocks that crowned their summits to 
 the impetuous streams that circled round their base. 
 Scenery like this, it might seem, could have no 
 
294 THE OREGON TRAIL. 
 
 very cheering effect on the mind of a sick man (for 
 to-day my disease had again assailed me) in the 
 midst of a horde of savages ; but if the reader has 
 ever wandered, with a true hunter's spirit, among 
 the forests of Maine, or the more picturesque soh- 
 tudes of the Adirondack Mountains, he will under- 
 stand how the sombre woods and mountains around 
 me might have awakened any other feelings than 
 those of gloom. In truth, they recalled gladdening 
 recollections of similar scenes in a distant and far 
 different land. 
 
 After we had been advancing for several hours, 
 through passages always narrow, often obstructed 
 and difficult, I saw at a little distance on our right 
 a narrow opening between two high, wooded prec- 
 ipices. All within seemed darkness and mystery. 
 In the mood in which I found myself, something 
 strongly impelled me to enter. Passing over the 
 intervening space, I guided my horse through the 
 rocky portal, and as I did so, instinctively drew the 
 covering from my rifle, half expecting that some 
 unknown evil lay in ambush within those dreary 
 recesses. The place was shut in among tall cliffs, 
 and so deeply shadowed by a host of old pine trees, 
 that though the sun shone bright on the side of the 
 mountain, nothing but a dim twilight could penetrate 
 within. As far as I could see it had no tenants 
 except a few hawks and owls, who, dismayed at 
 my intrusion, flapped hoarsely away among the 
 shaggy branches. I moved forward, determined to 
 explore the mystery to the bottom, and soon became 
 involved among the pines. The genius of the place 
 exercised a strange influence upon my mind. Its 
 faculties were stimulated into extraordinary activity, 
 and as I passed along many half-forgotten inci- 
 dents, and the images of persons and things far dis- 
 tant, rose rapidly before me with surprising dis- 
 
PASSAGE OF THE MOUNTAINS. 295 
 
 tinctness. In that perilous wilderness, eight hundred 
 miles removed beyond the faintest vestige of civiliza- 
 tion, the scenes of another hemisphere, the seat of 
 ancient refinement passed before me, more like a 
 succession of vivid paintings than any mere dreams 
 of the fancy. I saw the church of St. Peter' s illumined 
 on the evening of Easter-day, the whole majestic pile 
 from the cross to the foundation-stone, pencilled in 
 fire, and shedding a radiance, like the serene light 
 of the moon, on the sea of upturned faces below. I 
 saw the peak of Mount Etna towering above its 
 inky mantle of clouds, and lightly curling its 
 wreaths of milk-white smoke against the soft sky, 
 flushed with the Sicilian sunset. I saw also the 
 gloomy vaulted passages and the narrow cells of 
 the Passionist convent, where I once had sojourned 
 for a few days with the fanatical monks, its pale 
 stern inmates, in their robes of black ; and the 
 grated windows from whence I could look out, a for- 
 bidden indulgence, upon the melancholy Coliseum 
 and the crumbling ruins of the Eternal City. The 
 mighty glaciers of the Splugen, too, rose before me, 
 gleaming in the sun like polished silver, and those 
 terrible solitudes, the birth-place of the Rhine, where, 
 bursting from the bowels of its native mountain, it 
 lashes and foams down the rocky abyss into the 
 little v^alley of Andeer. These recollections, and 
 many more crowded upon me, until, remembering 
 that it was hardly wise to remain long in such a 
 place, I mounted again and retraced my steps. 
 Issuing from betv/een the rocks, I saw, a few rods 
 before me, the men, women and children, dogs and 
 horses, still filing slowly across the little glen. A 
 bare round hill rose directly above them. I rode to 
 the top, and from this point I could look down on 
 the savage procession as it passed just beneath my 
 feet, and far on the left I could see its thin and 
 
296 THE OREGON TRAIL. 
 
 broken line, visible only at intervals, stretching 
 away for miles among the mountains. On the 
 farthest ridge horsemen were still descending, like 
 mere specks in the distance. 
 
 I remained on the hill until all had passed, and 
 then, descending, followed after them. A little 
 farther on 1 found a xoxy small meadow, set deeply 
 among steep mountains ; and here the whole village 
 had encamped. The little spot was crowded with 
 the confused and disorderly host. Some of the 
 lodges were already completely prepared, or the 
 squaws perhaps were busy in drawing the heavy 
 coverings of skin over the bare poles. Others were 
 as yet mere skeletons, while others still, poles, 
 covering, and all, lay scattered in complete disorder 
 on the ground among buffalo-robes, bales of meat, 
 domestic utensils, harness, and weapons. Squaws 
 were screaming to one another, horses rearing and 
 plunging, dogs yelping, eager to be disburdened of 
 their loads, while the fluttering of feathers and the 
 gleam of barbaric ornaments added liveliness to the 
 scene. The small children ran about amid the 
 crowd, while many of the boys were scrambling 
 among the overhanging rocks, and standing, with 
 their little bows in their hands, looking down upon 
 the restless throng. In contrast v/ith the general 
 confusion, a circle of old men and warriors sat in 
 the midst, smoking in profound indifference and 
 tranquillity. The disorder at length subsided. The 
 horses were driven away to feed along the adjacent 
 valley, and the camp assumed an air of listless 
 repose. It was scarcely past noon ; a vast white 
 canopy of smoke from a burning forest to the east- 
 ward overhung the place, and partially obscured 
 the rays of the sun ; yet the heat was almost in- 
 supportable. The lodges stood crowded together 
 without order in the narrow space. Each was a 
 
PASSAGE OF THE MOUNTAINS. 297 
 
 perfect hot-house, within which the lazy proprietor 
 lay sleeping. The camp was silent as death. 
 Nothing stirred except now and then an old woman 
 passing from lodge to lodge. The girls and young 
 men sat together in groups, under the pine trees 
 upon the surrounding heights. The dogs lay pant- 
 ing on the ground, too lazy even to growl at the 
 white man. At the entrance of the meadow there 
 was a cold spring among the rocks, completely 
 overshadowed by tall trees and dense undergrowth. 
 In this cool and shady retreat a number of the girls 
 were assembled, sitting together on rocks and fallen 
 logs, discussing the latest gossip of the village, or 
 laughing and throwing water with their hands at the 
 intruding Meneaska. The minutes seemed length- 
 ened into hours. I lay for a long time under a tree, 
 studying the Ogillallah tongue, with the zealous in- 
 structions of my friend the Panther. When we 
 were both tired of this, I went and lay down by the 
 side of a deep, clear pool, formed by the water of 
 the spring. A shoal of little fishes of about a pin's 
 length were playing in it, sporting together, as it 
 seemed, very amicably ; but on closer observation, 
 I saw that they were engaged in a cannibal warfare 
 among themselves. Now and then a small one 
 would fall a victim, and immediately disappear 
 down the maw of his voracious conqueror. Every 
 moment, however, the tyrant of the pool, a mon- 
 ster about three inches long, with staring goggle- 
 eyes, would slowly issue forth with quivering fins 
 and tail from under the shelving bank. The small 
 fry at this would suspend their hostilities, and scat- 
 ter in a panic at the appearance of overwhelming 
 force. 
 
 "Soft-hearted philanthropists," thought I, "may 
 sigh long for their peaceful millennium ; for, from 
 minnows up to men, life is an incessant battle." 
 
298 THE OREGON TRAIL. 
 
 Evening approached at last, the tall mountain-tops 
 around were still gay and bright in sunshine, while 
 our deep glen was completely shadowed. I left 
 the camp and ascended a neighboring hill, whose 
 rocky summit commanded a wide view over the 
 surrounding wilderness. The sun was still glaring 
 through the stiff pines on the ridge of the western 
 mountain. In a moment he was gone, and as the 
 landscape rapidly darkened, I turned agam toward 
 the village. As I descended the hill the howling 
 of wolves and the barking of foxes came up out of 
 the dim woods from far and near. The camp was 
 glowing with a multitude of fires and alive with 
 dusky naked figures, whose tall shadows flitted 
 among the surrounding crags. 
 
 I found a circle of smokers seated in their usual 
 place ; that is, on the ground, before the lodge of a 
 certain warrior, who seemed to be generally known 
 for his social qualities. 1 sat down to smoke a 
 parting pipe with my savage friends. That day 
 was the first of August, on which I had promised to 
 meet Shaw at Fort Laramie. The fort was less 
 than two days' journey distant, and that my friend 
 need not suffer anxiety on my account, I resolved to 
 push forward as rapidly as possible to the place of 
 meeting. I went to look after the Hail-Storm, and 
 having found him, I offered him a handful of 
 hawks' -bells and a paper of vermilion, on condition 
 that he would guide me in the morning through the 
 mountains within sight of Laramie Creek. 
 
 The Hail-Storm ejaculated " Hoza T' and ac- 
 cepted the gift. Nothing more was said on either 
 side ; the matter was settled, and I lay down to 
 sleep in Kongra-Tonga' s lodge. 
 
 Long before daylight, Raymond shook me by the 
 shoulder : 
 
 " Everything is ready," he said. 
 
PASSAGE OF THE MOUNTAINS. 299 
 
 I went out. The morning was chill, damp, and 
 dark ; and the whole camp seemed asleep. The 
 Hail-Storm sat on horseback before the lodge, and 
 my mare Pauline and the mule which Raymond 
 rode were picketed near it. We saddled and made 
 our other arrangements for the journey, but before 
 these were completed the camp began to stir, and 
 the lodge-coverings fluttered and rustled as the 
 squaws pulled them down in preparation for de- 
 parture. Just as the light began to appear we left 
 the ground, passing up through a narrow opening 
 among the rocks which led eastward out of the 
 meadow. Gaining the top of this passage, I turned 
 round and sat looking back upon the camp, dimly 
 visible in the gray light of the morning. All was 
 alive with the bustle of preparation. 1 turned away, 
 half unwilling to take a final leave of my savage 
 associates. We turned to the right, passing among 
 rocks and pine trees so dark that for a while we 
 could scarcely see our way. The country in front 
 was wild and broken, half hill, half plain, partly 
 open, and partly covered with woods of pine and 
 oak. Barriers of lofty mountains encompassed it ; 
 the woods were fresh and cool in the early morn- 
 ing ; the peaks of the mountains were wreathed 
 with mist, and sluggish vapors were entangled 
 among the forests upon their sides. At length the 
 black pinnacle of the tallest mountain was tipped 
 with gold by the rising sun. About that time the 
 Hail-Storm, who rode in front, gave a low exclama- 
 tion. Some large animal leaped up from among 
 the bushes, and an elk, as I thought, his horns 
 thrown back over his neck, darted past us across 
 the open space, and bounded like a mad thing away 
 among the adjoining pines. Raymond was soon out 
 of his saddle, but before he could fire, the animal 
 was full two hundred yards distant. The ball struck 
 
300 THE OREGON TRAIL. 
 
 its mark, though much too low for mortal effect. 
 The elk, however, wheeled in his flight, and ran at 
 full speed among the trees, nearly at right angles to 
 his former course. I fired and broke his shoulder ; 
 still he moved on, limping down into a neighboring 
 woody hollow, whither the young Indian followed 
 and killed him. When we reached the spot we 
 discovered him to be no elk, but a black-tailed 
 deer, an animal nearly twice the size of the common 
 deer, and quite unknown in the east. We began to 
 cut him up : the reports of the rifles had reached 
 the ears of the Indians, and before our task was fin- 
 ished several of them came to the spot. Leaving 
 the hide of the deer to the Hail-Storm, we hung as 
 much of the meat as we wanted behind our saddles, 
 left the rest to the Indians, and resumed our jour- 
 ney. Meanwhile the village was on its way, and 
 had gone so far that to get in advance of it was im- 
 possible. Therefore we directed our course so as to 
 strike its line of march at the nearest point. In a 
 short time, through the dark trunks of the pines, we 
 could see the figures of the Indians as they passed. 
 Once more we were among them. They were mov- 
 ing with even more than their usual precipitation, 
 crowded close together in a narrow pass between 
 rocks and old pine trees. We were on the eastern de- 
 scent of the mountain, and soon came to a rough and 
 difficult defile, leading down a very steep dechvity. 
 The whole swarm poured down together, filling the 
 rocky passage-way like some turbulent mountain- 
 stream. The mountains before us were on fire, and 
 had been so for weeks. The view in front was ob- 
 scured by a vast dim sea of smoke and vapor, while 
 on either hand the tall cliffs, bearing aloft their crest 
 of pines, thrust their heads boldly through it, and 
 the sharp pinnacles and broken ridges of the moun- 
 tains beyond them were faintly traceable as through 
 
PASSAGE OF THE MOUNTAINS. 30I 
 
 a veil. The scene in itself was most grand and 
 imposing, but with the savage multitude, the armed 
 warriors, the naked children, the gayly apparelled 
 girls, pouring impetuously down the heights, it 
 would have formed a noble subject for a painter, 
 and only the pen of a Scott could have done it jus- 
 tice in description. 
 
 We passed over a burnt tract where the ground 
 was hot beneath the horses' feet, and between the 
 blazing sides of two mountains. Before long we 
 had descended to a softer region, where we found a 
 succession of little valleys watered by a stream, along 
 the borders of which grew an abundance of wild 
 gooseberries and currants, and the children and 
 many of the men straggled from the line of march 
 to gather them as we passed along. Descending 
 still farther, the view changed rapidly. The burn- 
 ing mountains were behind us, and through the 
 open valleys in front we could see the ocean-like 
 prairie, stretching beyond the sight. After passing 
 through a line of trees that skirted the brook, the 
 Indians filed out upon the plains. I was thirsty and 
 knelt down by the little stream to drink. As I 
 mounted again, I very carelessly left my rifle among 
 the grass, and my thoughts being otherwise ab- 
 sorbed, I rode for some distance before discovering 
 its absence. As the reader may conceive, I lost 
 no time in turning about and galloping back in 
 search of it. Passing the line of Indians, I watched 
 every warrior as he rode by me at a canter, and at 
 length discovered my rifle in the hands of one of 
 them, who, on my approaching to claim it, imme- 
 diately gave it up. Having no other means of 
 acknowledging the obligation, I took off one of my 
 spurs and gave it to him. He was greatly delighted, 
 looking upon it as a distinguished mark of favor, and 
 immediately held out his foot for me to buckle it on. 
 
302 THE OREGON TRAIL. 
 
 As soon as I had done so, he struck it with all his 
 force into the side of his horse, who gave a violent 
 leap. The Indian laughed and spurred harder than 
 before. At this the horse shot away like an arrow, 
 amid the screams and laughter of the squaws, 
 and the ejaculations of the men, who exclaimed : 
 "Washtay! — Good!" at the potent effect of my 
 gift. The Indian had no saddle, and nothing in 
 place of a bridle except a leather string tied round 
 the horse's jaw. The animal was, of course, wholly 
 uncontrollable, and stretched away at full speed over 
 the prairie, till he and his rider vanished behind a 
 distant swell. I never saw the man again, but I 
 presume no harm came to him. An Indian on 
 horseback has more lives than a cat. 
 
 The village encamped on the scorching prairie, 
 close to the foot of the mountains. The heat was 
 most intense and penetrating. The coverings of the 
 lodgings were raised a foot or more from the ground, 
 in order to procure some circulation of air ; and 
 Reynal thought proper to lay aside his trapper's 
 dress of buckskin and assume the very scanty cos- 
 tume of an Indian. Thus elegantly attired, he 
 stretched himself in his lodge on a buffalo-robe, 
 alternately cursing the heat and puffing at the pipe 
 which he and I passed between us. There was 
 present also a select circle of Indian friends and 
 relatives. A small boiled puppy was served up as 
 a parting feast, to which was added, by way of 
 dessert, a wooden bowl of gooseberries, from the 
 mountains. 
 
 "Look there," said Reynal, pointing out of the 
 opening of his lodge ; "do you see that line 
 of buttes about fifteen miles off? Well, now do 
 you see that farthest one, with the white speck 
 on the face of it ? Do you think you ever saw 
 it before ?' ' 
 
PASSAGE OF THE MOUNTAINS. 303 
 
 "It looks to me," said I, "like the hill that we 
 were 'camped under when we were on Laramie 
 Creek, six or eight weeks ago." 
 
 ' ' You' ve hit it, ' ' answered Reynal. 
 
 "Go, and bring in the animals, Raymond," said 
 I ; "we'll camp there to-night, and start for the fort 
 in the morning." 
 
 The mare and the mule were soon before the 
 lodge. We saddled them, and in the meantime a 
 number of Indians collected about us. The virtues 
 of Pauline, my strong, fleet, and hardy little mare, 
 were well known in camp, and several of the visitors 
 were mounted upon good horses which they had 
 brought me as presents. I promptly declined their 
 offers, since accepting them would have involved 
 the necessity of transferring poor Pauline into their 
 barbarous hands. We took leave of Reynal, but 
 not of the Indians, who are accustomed to dispense 
 with such superfluous ceremonies. Leaving the 
 camp, we rode straight over the prairie toward the 
 white-faced bluff, whose pale ridges swelled gently 
 against the horizon, like a cloud. An Indian went 
 with us, whose name I forget, though the ugliness 
 of his face and the ghastly width of his mouth dwell 
 vividly in my recollection. The antelope were numer- 
 ous, but we did not heed them. We rode directly 
 toward our destination, over the arid plains and 
 barren hills ; until, late in the afternoon, half-spent 
 with heat, thirst, and fatigue, we saw a gladdening 
 sight : the long line of trees and the deep gulf that 
 mark the course of Laramie Creek. Passing through 
 the growth of huge dilapidated old cotton-wood trees 
 that bordered the creek, we rode across to the other 
 side. The rapid and foaming waters were filled with 
 fish playing and splashing in the shallows. As we 
 gained the farther bank, our horses turned eagerly 
 to drink, and we, kneeling on the sand, followed 
 
304 THE OREGON TRAIL. 
 
 their example. We had not gone far before the 
 scene began to grow familiar.. 
 
 "We are getting near home, Raymond," said I. 
 
 There stood the big tree under which we had en- 
 camped so long ; there were the white cliffs that used 
 to look down upon our tent when it stood at the bend 
 of the creek ; there was the meadow in which our 
 horses had grazed for weeks, and a little farther on, 
 the prairie-dog village, where I had beguiled many 
 a languid hour in persecuting the unfortunate inhab- 
 itants. 
 
 ' ' We are going to catch it now, ' ' said Raymond, 
 turning his broad, vacant face up toward the sky. 
 
 In truth the landscape, the cliffs, and the meadow, 
 the stream and the groves, were darkening fast. 
 Black masses of cloud were swelling up in the south, 
 and the thunder was growling ominously. 
 
 "We will 'camp there," I said, pointing to a 
 dense grove of trees lower down the stream. Ray- 
 mond and I turned toward it, but the Indian stopped 
 and called earnestly after us. When we demanded 
 what was the matter, he said that the ghosts of two 
 warriors were always among those trees, and that 
 if we slept there they would scream and throw 
 stones at us all night, and perhaps steal our horses 
 before morning. Thinking it as well to humor him, 
 we left behind us the haunt of these extraordinary 
 ghosts, and passed on toward Chugwater, riding at 
 full gallop, for the big drops began to patter down. 
 Soon we came in sight of the poplar saplings that 
 grew about the mouth of the little stream. We 
 leaped to the ground, threw off our saddles, turned 
 our horses loose, and, drawing our knives, began to 
 slash among the bushes to cut twigs and branches 
 for making a shelter against the rain. Bending 
 down the taller saplings as they grew, we piled the 
 young shoots upon them, and thus made a con- 
 
PASSAGE OF THE MOUNTAINS. 305 
 
 venient pent-house ; but all our labor was useless. 
 The storm scarcely touched us. Half a mile on 
 our right the rain was pouring down like a cataract, 
 and the thunder roared over the prairie like a bat- 
 tery of cannon ; while we, by good fortune, received 
 only a few heavy drops from the skirt of the pass- 
 ing cloud. The weather cleared and the sun set 
 gloriously. Sitting close under our leafy canopy, 
 we proceeded to discuss a substantial meal of ivasiia 
 which Weah-Washtay had given me. The Indian 
 had brought with him his pipe and a bag of shoiig- 
 sasha ; so before lying down to sleep, we sat for 
 some time smoking together. Previously, however, 
 our wide-mouthed friend had taken the precaution 
 of carefully examining the neighborhood. He re- 
 ported that eight men, counting them on his fingers, 
 had been encamped there not long before. Bison- 
 ette, Paul Dorion, Antoine Le Rouge, Richardson, 
 and four others, whose names he could not tell. 
 All this proved strictly correct. By what instinct he 
 had arrived at such accurate conclusions, I am 
 utterly at a loss to divine. 
 
 It was still quite dark when I awoke and called 
 Raymond. The Indian was already gone, having 
 chosen to go on before us to the fort. vSetting out 
 after him, we rode for some time in complete dark- 
 ness, and when the sun at length rose, glowing like 
 a fiery ball of copper, w^e were ten miles distant 
 from the fort. At length, from the broken summit 
 of a tall sandy bluff, we could see Fort Laramie, 
 miles before us, standing by the side of the stream, 
 like a little gray speck, in the midst of the bound- 
 less desolation. I stopped my horse, and sat for a 
 moment looking down upon it. It seemed to me 
 the very centre of comfort and civilization. We 
 were not long in approaching it, for we rode at 
 speed the greater part of the way. Laramie Creek 
 20 
 
306 THE OREGON TRAIL. 
 
 still intervened between us and the friendly walls. 
 Entering the water at the point where we had struck 
 upon the bank, we raised our feet to the saddle be- 
 hind us, and thus kneeling, as it were, on horseback, 
 passed dry-shod through the swift current. As we 
 rode up the bank, a number of men appeared in 
 the gateway. Three of them came forward to meet 
 us. In a moment I distinguished Shaw ; Henry 
 Chatillon followed with his face of manly simplicity 
 and frankness, and Delorier came last, with a broad 
 grin of welcome. The meeting was not on either 
 side one of mere ceremony. For my own part, the 
 change was a most agreeable one, from the society 
 of savages and men little better than savages, to 
 that of my gallant and high-minded companion, 
 and our noble-hearted guide. My appearance was 
 equally gratifying to Shaw, who was beginning to 
 entertain some very uncomfortable surmises con- 
 cerning me. 
 
 Bordeaux greeted me very cordially, and shouted 
 to the cook. This functionary was a new acquisi- 
 tion, having lately come from Fort Pierre with the 
 trading-wagons. Whatever skill he might have 
 boasted, he had not the most promising m.aterials 
 to exercise it upon. He set before me, however, a 
 breakfast of biscuit, coffee, and salt pork. It seemed 
 like a new phase of existence to be seated once 
 more on a bench, with a knife and fork, a plate and 
 tea-cup, and something resembling a table before 
 me. The coffee seemed delicious, and the bread 
 was a most welcome novelty, since for three weeks 
 I had eaten scarcely anything but meat, and that 
 for the most part without salt. The meal also had 
 the relish of good company, for opposite to me sat 
 Shaw in elegant dishabille. If one is anxious 
 thoroughly to appreciate the value of a congenial 
 companion, he has only to spend a few weeks by 
 
THE LONELY JOURNEY. 307 
 
 himself in an Ogillallah village. And if he can 
 contrive to add to his seclusion a debilitating and 
 somewhat critical illness, his perceptions upon this 
 subject will be rendered considerably more vivid. 
 
 Shaw had been upward of two weeks at the fort. 
 I found him established in his old quarters, a large 
 apartment usually occupied by the absent bourgeois. 
 In one corner was a soft and luxurious pile of excel- 
 lent buffalo-robes, and here I lay down. Shaw 
 brought me three books. 
 
 " Here," said he, "is your Shakespeare and By- 
 ron, and here is the Old Testament, which has as 
 much poetry in it as the other two put together. 
 
 I chose the worst of the three, and for the greater 
 part of that day I lay on the buffalo-robes, fairly 
 revelling in the creations of that resplendent genius 
 which has achieved no more signal triumph than 
 that of half beguiling us to forget the pitiful and un- 
 manly character of its possessor. 
 
 CHAPTER XX. 
 
 THE LONELY JOURNEY. 
 
 " Of antres vast, and deserts idle, 
 Rough quarries, rocks, and hills whose heads touch heaven." 
 
 Othello. 
 
 On the day of my arrival at Fort Laramie, Shaw 
 and I were lounging on two buffalo-robes in the large 
 apartment hospitably assigned to us ; Henry Cha- 
 tillon also was present, busy about the harness and 
 weapons, which had been brought into the room, 
 and two or three Indians were crouching on the 
 floor, eyeing us with their fixed unwavering gaze. 
 
 ' ' I have been well off here, ' ' said Shaw, ' ' in all 
 
308 THE OREGON TRAIL. 
 
 respects but one ; there is no good shongsasha to be 
 had for love or money." 
 
 I gave him a small leather bag containing some 
 of excellent quality, which I had brought from the 
 Black Hills, "Now, Henry," said he, "hand me 
 Papin's chopping-board, or give it to that Indian, 
 and let him cut the mixture ; they understand it 
 better than any white man." 
 
 The Indian, without saying a word, mixed the 
 bark and the tobacco in due proportions, filled the 
 pipe, and lighted it. This done, my companion 
 and I proceeded to deliberate on our future course 
 of proceeding ; first, however, Shaw acquainted me 
 with some incidents which had occurred at the fort 
 during my absence. 
 
 About a week previous four men had arrived from 
 beyond the mountains : Sublette, Reddick, and two 
 others. Just before reaching the fort they had met 
 a large party of Indians, chiefly young men. All 
 of them belonged to the village of our old friend 
 Smoke, who, with his whole band of adherents, 
 professed the greatest friendship for the whites. 
 The travellers therefore approached, and began to 
 converse without the least suspicion. Suddenly, 
 however, their bridles were violently seized, and 
 they were ordered to dismount. Instead of com- 
 plying, they struck their horses with full force and 
 broke away from the Indians. As they galloped off 
 they heard a yell behind them, mixed with a burst 
 of derisive laughter, and the reports of several guns. 
 None of them were hurt, though Reddick' s bridle- 
 rein was cut by a bullet within an inch of his hand. 
 After this taste of Indian hostihty, they felt for the 
 moment no disposition to encounter farther risks. 
 They intended to pursue the route southward along 
 the foot of the mountains to Bent's Fort ; and as 
 our plans coincided with theirs, they proposed to 
 
THE LONELY JOURNEY. 309 
 
 join forces. Finding, however, that I did not re- 
 turn, they grew impatient of inaction, forgot their 
 late escape, and set out without us, promising to 
 wait our arrival at Bent's Fort. From thence we 
 were to make the long journey to the settlements in 
 company, as the path was not a little dangerous, 
 being infested by hostile Pawnees and Comanches. 
 
 We expected, on reaching Bent's Fort, to find 
 there still another reinforcement. A young Ken- 
 tuckian, of the true Kentucky blood, generous, im- 
 petuous, and a gentleman withal, had come out to 
 the mountains with Russel's party of California 
 emigrants. One of his chief objects, as he gave 
 out, was to kill an Indian ; an exploit which he 
 afterward succeeded in achieving, much to the 
 jeopardy of ourselves and others who had to pass 
 through the country of the dead Pawnee's enraged 
 relatives. Having become disgusted with his emi- 
 grant associates, he left them, and had some time 
 before set out with a party of companions for the 
 head of the Arkansas. He sent us previously a 
 letter, intimating that he would wait until we arrived 
 at Bent's Fort, and accompany us thence to the set- 
 tlements. When, however, he came to the fort he 
 found there a party of forty men about to make the 
 homeward journey. He wisely preferred to avail 
 himself of so strong an escort. Mr. Sublette and 
 his companions also set out, in order to overtake 
 this company ; so that on reaching Bent's Fort, 
 some six weeks after, we found ourselves deserted 
 by our allies and thrown once more upon our own 
 resources. 
 
 But I am anticipating. When, before leaving 
 the settlements, we had m.ade inquiries concerning 
 this part of the country of General Kearney, Mr. 
 Mackenzie, Captain Wyeth, and others well ac- 
 quainted with it, they had all advised us by no 
 
310 THE OREGON TRAIL. 
 
 means to attempt this southward journey with fewer 
 than fifteen or twenty men. The danger consists 
 in the chance of encountering Indian war-parties. 
 Sometimes, throughout the whole length of the 
 journey (a distance of three hundred and fifty 
 miles), one does not meet a single human being ; 
 frequently, however, the route is beset by Arapa- 
 hoes and other unfriendly tribes ; in which case the 
 scalp of the adventurer is in imminent peril. As 
 to the escort of fifteen or twenty men, such a force 
 of whites could at that time scarcely be collected in 
 the whole country ; and had the case been other- 
 wise, the expense of securing them, together with 
 the necessary number of horses, would have been 
 extremely heavy. We had resolved, however, upon 
 pursuing this southward course. There were, in- 
 deed, two other routes from Fort Laramie ; but both 
 of these were less interesting, and neither was free 
 from danger. Being unable, therefore, to procure 
 the fifteen or twenty men recommended, we deter- 
 mined to set out with those we had already in our 
 employ — Henry Chatillon, Delorier, and Raymond. 
 The men themselves made no objection, nor would 
 they have made any had the journey been more 
 dangerous ; for Henry was without fear, and the 
 other two without thought. 
 
 Shaw and I were much better fitted for this mode 
 of travelling than we had been on betaking our- 
 selves to the prairies for the first time a few months 
 before. The daily routine had ceased to be a nov- 
 elty. All the details of the journey and the camp 
 had become familiar to us. We had seen life under 
 a new aspect ; the human biped had been reduced 
 to his primitive condition. We had lived without 
 law to protect, a roof to shelter, or garment of cloth 
 to cover us. One of us, at least, had been without 
 bread, and without salt to season his food. Our idea 
 
THE LONELY JOURNEY. 3II 
 
 of what is indispensable to human existence and 
 enjoyment had been wonderfully curtailed, and a 
 horse, a rifle, and a knife seemed to make up the 
 whole of life's necessaries. For these once ob- 
 tained, together with the skill to use them, all else 
 that is essential would follow in their train, and a 
 host of luxuries besides. One other lesson our 
 short prairie experience had taught us : that of pro- 
 found contentment in the present, and utter con- 
 tempt for what the future might bring forth. 
 
 These principles established, we prepared to leave 
 Fort Laramie. On the fourth day of August, early 
 in the afternoon, we bade a final adieu to its hos- 
 pitable gateway. Again Shaw and I were riding 
 side by side on the prairie. For the first fifty miles 
 we had companions with us : Troche, a little trap- 
 per, and Rouville, a nondescript in the employ of 
 the Fur Company, who were going to join the trader 
 Bisonette, at his encampment near the head of 
 Horse Creek. We rode only six or eight miles that 
 afternoon before we came to a little brook trav- 
 ersing the barren prairie. All along its course grew 
 copses of young wild-cherry trees, loaded with ripe 
 fruit, and almost concealing the gliding thread of 
 water with their dense growth, while on each side 
 rose swells of rich green grass. Here we en- 
 camped ; and being much too indolent to pitch our 
 tent, we flung our saddles on the ground, spread a 
 pair of buffalo-robes, lay down upon them, and 
 iDegan to smoke. Meanwhile, Delorier busied him- 
 self with his hissing frying-pan, and Raymond 
 stood guard over the band of grazing horses. Delo- 
 rier had an active assistant in Rouville, who pro- 
 fessed great skill in the culinary art, and, seizing 
 upon a fork, began to lend his zealous aid in making 
 ready supper. Indeed, according to his own belief, 
 Rouville was a man of universal knowledge, and he 
 
312 THE OREGON TRAIL. 
 
 lost no opportunity to display his manifold accom- 
 plishments. He had been a circus-rider at St. 
 Louis, and once he rode round Fort Laramie on his 
 head, to the utter bewilderment of all the Indians. 
 He was also noted as the wit of the fort ; and as he 
 had considerable humor and abundant vivacity, he 
 contributed more that night to the liveliness of the 
 camp than all the rest of the party put together. 
 At one instant he would be kneeling by Delorier, 
 instructing him in the true method of frying ante- 
 lope-steaks, then he would come and seat himself 
 at our side, dilating upon the orthodox fashion of 
 braiding up a horse's tail, telling apocryphal stories 
 how he had killed a buffalo-bull with a knife, having 
 first cut off his tail when at full speed, or relating 
 whimsical anecdotes of the bourgeois Papin. At 
 last he snatched up a volume of Shakespeare that 
 was lying on the grass, and halted and stumbled 
 through a line or two to prove that he could read. 
 He went gambolling about the camp, chattering 
 like some frolicsome ape ; and whatever he was 
 doing at one moment, the presumption was a sure 
 one that he would not be doing it the next. His 
 companion Troche sat silently on the grass, not 
 speaking a word, but keeping a vigilant eye on a 
 very ugly little Utah squaw, of whom he was ex- 
 tremely jealous. 
 
 On the next day we travelled farther, crossing 
 the wide sterile basin called "Goche's Hole." 
 Toward night we became involved among deep 
 ravines ; and being also unable to find water, our 
 journey was protracted to a very late hour. On 
 the next morning we had to pass a long line of 
 bluffs, whose raw sides, wrought upon by rains and 
 storms, were of a ghastly whiteness most oppressive 
 to the sight. As we ascended a gap in these hills, 
 the way was marked by huge footprints, hke those 
 
THE LONELY JOURNEY. 313 
 
 of a human giant. They were the track of the 
 grizzly bear ; and on the previous day also we had 
 seen an abundance of them along the dry channels of 
 the streams we had passed. Immediately after this 
 we were crossing a barren plain, spreading in long 
 and gentle undulations to the horizon. Though the 
 sun was bright, there was a light haze in the atmo- 
 sphere. The distant hills assumed strange, distorted 
 forms, and the edge of the horizon was continually 
 changing its aspect. Shaw and I were riding 
 together, and Henry Chatillon was alone, a few 
 rods before us ; he stopped his horse suddenly, and 
 turning round with the peculiar eager and earnest 
 expression which he always wore when excited, he 
 called us to come forward. We galloped to his 
 side. Henry pointed toward a black speck on the 
 gray swell of the prairie, apparently about a mile 
 off. "It must be a bear," said he; "come, now 
 we shall all have some sport. Better fun to fight 
 him than to fight an old buffalo-bull ; grizzly bear 
 so strong and smart." 
 
 So we all galloped forward together, prepared for 
 a hard fight ; for these bears, though clumsy in ap- 
 pearance and extremely large, are incredibly fierce 
 and active. The swell of the prairie concealed the 
 black object from our view. Immediately after it 
 appeared again. But now it seemed quite near to 
 us ; and as we looked at it in astonishment, it sud- 
 denly separated into two parts, each of which took 
 wing and flew away. We stopped our horses and 
 looked round at Henry, whose face exhibited a 
 curious mixture of mirth and mortification. His 
 hawk's eye had been so completely deceived by the 
 peculiar atmosphere, that he had mistaken two 
 large crows at the distance of fifty rods for a grizzly 
 bear a mile off. To the journey's end Henry never 
 heard the last of the grizzly bear with wings. 
 
314 THE OREGON TRAIL. 
 
 In the afternoon we came to the foot of a consid- 
 erable hill. As we ascended it, Rouville began to 
 ask questions concerning our condition and pros- 
 pects at home, and Shaw was edifying him with a 
 minute account of an imaginary wife and child, to 
 which he listened with implicit faith. Reaching the 
 top of the hill, we saw the windings of Horse Creek 
 on the plains below us, and a little on the left we 
 could distinguish the camp of Bisonette among the 
 trees and copses along the course of the stream. 
 Rouville' s face assumed just then a most ludicrously 
 blank expression. We inquired what was the matter ; 
 when it appeared that Bisonette had sent him from 
 this place to Fort Laramie with the sole object of 
 bringing back a supply of tobacco. Our rattlebrain 
 friend, from the time of his reaching the fort up to 
 the present moment, had entirely forgotten the ob- 
 ject of his journey, and had ridden a dangerous 
 hundred miles for nothing. Descending to Horse 
 Creek, we forded it, and on the opposite bank a soli- 
 tary Indian sat on horseback under a tree. He said 
 nothing, but turned and led the way toward the 
 camp. Bisonette had made choice of an admirable 
 position. The stream, with its thick growth of trees, 
 inclosed on three sides a wide green meadow, where 
 about forty Dahcotah lodges were pitched in a circle, 
 and beyond them half a dozen lodges of the friendly 
 Shienne. Bisonette himself lived in the Indian 
 manner. Riding up to his lodge, we found him 
 seated at the head of it, surrounded by various ap- 
 pliances of comfort not common on the prairie. 
 His squaw was near him, and rosy children were 
 scrambling about in printed-calico gowns ; Paul 
 Dorion also, with his leathery face and old white 
 capote, was seated in the lodge, together with An- 
 toine Le Rouge, a half-breed Pawnee, Sibille, a 
 trader, and several other white men. 
 
THE LONELY JOURNEY. 315 
 
 "It will do you no harm," said Bisonette, "to 
 stay here with us for a day or two before you start 
 for the Pueblo." 
 
 We accepted the invitation, and pitched our tent 
 on a rising ground above the camp and close to the 
 edge of the trees. Bisonette soon invited us to a 
 feast, and we suffered an abundance of the same sort 
 of attention from his Indian associates. The reader 
 may possibly recollect that when I joined the Indian 
 village, beyond the Black Hills, I found that a few 
 famihes were absent, having declined to pass the 
 mountains along with the rest. The Indians in 
 Bisonette' s camp consisted of these very families, 
 and many of them came to me that evening to in- 
 quire after their relatives and friends. They were 
 not a little mortified to learn that while they, from 
 their own timidity and indolence, were almost in a 
 starving condition, the rest of the village had pro- 
 vided their lodges for the next season, laid in a great 
 stock of provisions, and were living in abundance 
 and luxurv\ Bisonette' s companions had been sus- 
 taining themselves for some time on wild cherries, 
 which the squaws pounded up, stones and all, and 
 spread on buffalo-robes, to dry in the sun ; they 
 were then eaten without farther preparation, or used 
 as an ingredient in various delectable compounds. 
 
 On the next day the camp was in commotion with 
 a new arrival. A single Indian had come with his 
 family the whole way from the Arkansas. As he 
 passed among the lodges he put on an expression of 
 unusual dignity and importance, and gave out that 
 he had brought great news to tell the whites. Soon 
 after the squaws had erected his lodge, he sent his 
 little son to invite all the white men and all the 
 more distinguished Indians to a feast. The guests 
 arrived and sat wedged together, shoulder to shoul- 
 der, within the hot and suffocating lodge. The 
 
3l6 THE OREGON TRAIL. 
 
 Stabber, for that was our entertainer's name, had 
 killed an old buffalo-bull on his way. This veteran's 
 boiled tripe, tougher than leather, formed the main 
 item of the repast. For the rest, it consisted of wild 
 cherries and grease boiled together in a large copper 
 kettle. The feast was distributed, and for a mo- 
 ment all was silent, strenuous exertion ; then each 
 guest, with one or two exceptions, however, turned 
 his wooden 4ish bottom upward to prove that he had 
 done full justice to his entertainer' s hospitality. The 
 Stabber next produced his chopping-board, on which 
 he prepared the mixture for smoking, and filled 
 several pipes, which circulated among the company. 
 This done, he seated himself upright on his couch, 
 and began with much gesticulation to tell his story, 
 I will not repeat his childish jargon. It was so en- 
 tangled, like the greater part of an Indian's stories, 
 with absurd and contradictory details, that it was 
 almost impossible to disengage from it a single par- 
 ticle of truth. All that we could gather was the 
 following : 
 
 He had been on the Arkansas, and there he had 
 seen six great war-parties of whites. He had never 
 believed before that the whole world contained half 
 so many white men. They all had large horses, 
 long knives, and short rifles, and some of them 
 were attired alike in the most splendid war-dresses 
 he had ever seen. From this account it was clear 
 that bodies of dragoons and perhaps also of volun- 
 teer cavalry had been passing up the Arkansas. 
 The Stabber had ialso seen a great many of the white 
 lodges of the Meneaska, drawn by their long-horned 
 buffalo. These could be nothing else than covered 
 ox-wagons, used, no doubt, in transporting stores for 
 the troops. Soon after seeing this, our host had 
 met an Indian who had lately come from among the 
 Comanches. The latter had told him that all the 
 
THE LONELY JOURNEY, 317 
 
 Mexicans had gone out to a great buffalo-hunt ; 
 that the Americans had hid themselves in a ravine. 
 When the Mexicans had shot away all their arrows, 
 the Americans had fired their guns, raised their war- 
 whoop, rushed out, and killed them all. We could 
 only infer from this that war had been declared 
 with Mexico, and a battle fought in which the 
 Americans were victorious. When, some weeks 
 after, we arrived at the Pueblo, we heard of General 
 Kearney's march up the Arkansas, and of General 
 Taylor's victories at Matamoras. 
 
 As the sun was setting that evening a great crowd 
 gathered on the plain, by the side of our tent, to try 
 the speed of their horses. These were of every 
 shape, size, and color. Some came from California, 
 some from the States, some from among the moun- 
 tains, and some from the wild bands of the prairie. 
 They were of every hue — white, black, red, and 
 gray, or mottled and clouded with a strange variety 
 of colors. They all had a wild and startled look, 
 very different from the staid and sober aspect of a 
 well-bred city steed. Those most noted for swift- 
 ness and spirit were decorated with eagle feathers 
 dangling from their manes and tails. Fifty or sixty 
 Dahcotah were present, wrapped from head to foot 
 in their heavy robes of whitened hide. There were 
 also a considerable number of the Shienne, many 
 of whom wore gaudy Mexican ponchos, swathed 
 around their shoulders, but leaving the right arm 
 bare. Mingled am.ong the crowd of Indians were 
 a number of Canadians, chiefly in the employ of 
 Bisonette ; men whose home is the wilderness, and 
 who love the camp-fire better than the domestic 
 hearth. They are contented and happy in the 
 midst of hardship, privation, and danger. Their 
 cheerfulness and gayety is irrepressible, and no 
 people on earth understand better how ' ' to daff the 
 
3l8 THE OREGON TRAIL. 
 
 world aside and bid it pass." Besides these, were 
 two or three half-breeds, a race of rather extraordi- 
 nary composition, being, according to the common 
 saying, half Indian, half white man, and half 
 devil. Antoine Le Rouge was the most conspicuous 
 among them, with his loose pantaloons and his 
 fluttering calico shirt. A handkerchief was bound 
 round his head to confine his black snaky hair, and 
 his small eyes twinkled beneath it with a mis- 
 chievous lustre. He had a fine cream-colored 
 horse, whose speed he must needs try along with 
 the rest. So he threw off the rude high-peaked 
 saddle, and substituting a piece of buffalo-robe, 
 leaped lightly into his seat. The space was cleared, 
 the word was given, and he and his Indian rival 
 darted out like lightning from among the crowd, 
 each stretching forward over his horse's neck and 
 plying his heavy Indian whip with might and main, 
 A moment, and both were lost in the gloom ; but 
 Antoine soon came riding back victorious, exult- 
 ingly patting the neck of his quivering and panting 
 horse. 
 
 About midnight, as I lay asleep, wrapped in a 
 buffalo-robe on the ground by the side of our cart, 
 Raymond came up and woke me. Something, he 
 said, was going forward which I would like to see. 
 Looking down into the camp I saw, on the farther 
 side of it, a great number of Indians gathered 
 around a fire, the bright glare of which made them 
 visible through the thick darkness ; while from the 
 midst of them proceeded a loud, measured chant 
 which would have killed Paganini outright, broken 
 occasionally by a burst of sharp yells. I gathered 
 the robe around me, for the night was cold, and 
 walked down to the spot. The dark throng of 
 Indians was so dense that they almost intercepted 
 the light of the flame. As I was pushing among 
 
THE LONELY JOURNEY. 3I9 
 
 them with but Httle ceremony, a chief interposed 
 himself, and I was given to understand that a white 
 man must not approach the scene of their solemni- 
 ties too closely. By passing around to the other side 
 where there was a little opening in the crowd, I 
 could see clearly what was going forward without 
 intruding my unhallowed presence into the inner 
 circle. The society of the "Strong Hearts" were 
 engaged in one of their dances. The "Strong 
 Hearts ' ' are a warlike association, comprising men 
 of both the Dahcotah and Shienne nations, and 
 entirely composed, or supposed to be so, of young 
 braves of the highest mettle. Its fundamental 
 principle is the admirable one of never retreating 
 from any enterprise once commenced. All these 
 Indian associations have a tutelary spirit. That of 
 the " Strong Hearts " is embodied in the fox, an ani- 
 mal which white men would hardly have selected for 
 a similar purpose, though his subtle and cautious 
 character agrees well enough with an Indian's 
 notions of what is honorable in warfare. The 
 dancers were circling round and round the fire, each 
 figure brightly illumined at one moment by the 
 yellow light, and at the next drawn in blackest 
 shadow as it passed between the flame and the 
 spectator. They would imitate with the most ludi- 
 crous exactness the motions and the voice of their 
 sly patron the fox. Then a startling yell would be 
 given. Many other warriors would leap into the 
 ring, and with faces upturned toward the starless 
 sky, they would all stamp, and whoop, and brandish 
 their weapons like so many frantic devils. 
 
 Until the next afternoon we were still remaining 
 with Bisonette. My companion and I with our 
 three attendants then left his camp for the Pueblo, 
 a distance of three hundred miles, and we supposed 
 the journey would occupy about a fortnight. During 
 
320 THE OREGON TRAIL. 
 
 this time we all earnestly hoped that we might not 
 meet a single human being, for should we encounter 
 any, they would in all probability be enemies, fero- 
 cious robbers and murderers, in whose eyes our 
 rifles would be our only passports. For the first 
 two days nothing worth mentioning took place. On 
 the third morning, however, an untoward incident 
 occurred. We were encamped by the side of a 
 little brook in an extensive hollow of the plain. 
 Delorier was up long before daylight, and before 
 he began to prepare breakfast he turned loose all 
 the horses, as in duty bound. There was a cold 
 mist clinging close to the ground, and by the time 
 the rest of us were awake the animals were invisible. 
 It was only after a long and anxious search that we 
 could discover by their tracks the direction they had 
 taken. They had all set off for Fort Laramie, fol- 
 lowing the guidance of a mutinous old mule, and 
 though many of them were hobbled, they had 
 travelled three miles before they could be over- 
 taken and driven back. 
 
 For the following two or three days we were pass- 
 ing over an arid desert. The only vegetation was a 
 few tufts of short grass, dried and shrivelled by the 
 heat. There was an abundance of strange insects 
 and reptiles. Huge crickets, black and bottle-green, 
 and wingless grasshoppers of the most extravagant 
 dimensions, were tumbling about our horses' feet, 
 and lizards without number were darting like light- 
 ning among the tufts of grass. The most curious 
 animal, however, was that commonly called the 
 horned-frog. I caught one of them and consigned 
 him to the care of Delorier, who tied him up in a 
 moccason. About a month after this I examined 
 the prisoner's condition, and finding him still lively 
 and active, I provided him with a cage of buffalo- 
 hide, which was hung up in the cart. In this man- 
 
THE LONELY JOURNEY. 32 1 
 
 ner he arrived safely at the settlements. From 
 thence he travelled the whole way to Boston, packed 
 closely in a trunk, being regaled with fresh air regu- 
 larly every night. When he reached his destina- 
 tion he was deposited under a glass case, where he 
 sat for some months in great tranquillity and com- 
 posure, alternately dilating and contracting his white 
 throat to the admiration of his visitors. At length, 
 one morning about the middle of winter, he gave 
 up the ghost. His death was attributed to starva- 
 tion, a very probable conclusion, since for six 
 months he had taken no food whatever, though the 
 sympathy of his juvenile admirers had tempted his 
 palate with a great variety of delicacies. We found 
 also animals of a somewhat larger growth. The 
 number of prairie-dogs was absolutely astounding. 
 Frequently the hard and dry prairie would be thickly 
 covered, for many miles together, with the little 
 mounds which they make around the mouth of their 
 burrows, and small squeaking voices yelping at us 
 as we passed along. The noses of the inhabitants 
 would be just visible at the mouth of their holes, 
 but no sooner was their curiosity satisfied than they 
 would instantly vanish. Some of the bolder dogs — 
 though, in fact, they are no dogs at all — but little 
 marmots, rather smaller than a rabbit — would sit 
 yelping at us on the top of their mounds, jerking 
 their tails emphatically with every shrill cry they 
 uttered. As the danger drew nearer they would 
 wheel about, toss their heels into the air, and dive 
 in a twinkling down into their burrows. Toward 
 sunset, and especially if rain were threatening, the 
 whole community would make their appearance 
 above ground. We would see them gathered in 
 large knots around the burrow of some favorite citi- 
 zen. There they would all sit erect, their tails 
 spread out on the ground, and their paws hanging 
 21 
 
322 THE OREGON TRAIL. 
 
 down before their white breasts, chattering and 
 squeaking with the utmost vivacity upon some topic 
 of common interest, while the proprietor of the bur- 
 row, with his head just visible on the top of his 
 mound, would sit looking down with a complacent 
 countenance on the enjoyment of his guests. Mean- 
 while, others would be running about from burrow to 
 burrow, as if on some errand of the last importance 
 to their subterranean commonwealth. The snakes 
 are apparently the prairie-dog's worst enemies ; at 
 least, I think too well of the latter to suppose that they 
 associate on friendly terms with these slimy intrud- 
 ers, who may be seen at all times basking among 
 their holes, into which they always retreat when dis- 
 turbed. Small owls, with wise and grave counte- 
 nances, also make their abode with the prairie-dogs, 
 though on what terms they live together I could 
 never ascertain. The manners and customs, the 
 political and domestic economy of these little mar- 
 mots are worthy of closer attention than one is able 
 to give when pushing by forced marches through 
 their country, with his thoughts engrossed by objects 
 of greater moment. 
 
 On the fifth day after leaving Bisonette' s camp we 
 saw, late in the afternoon, what we supposed to be 
 a considerable stream, but, on our approaching it, 
 we found to our mortification nothing but a dry bed 
 of sand, into which all the water had sunk and dis- 
 appeared. We separated, some riding in one di- 
 rection and some in another, along its course. Still, 
 we found no traces of water, not even so much as a 
 wet spot in the sand. The old cotton-wood trees 
 that grew along the bank, lamentably abused by 
 lightning and tempest, were withering with the 
 drought, and on the dead limbs, at the summit of the 
 tallest, half a dozen crows were hoarsely cawing, 
 like birds of evil omen, as they were. We had no 
 
THE LONELY JOURNEY. 323 
 
 alternative but to keep on. There was no water 
 nearer than the South Fork of the Platte, about ten 
 miles distant. We moved forward, angry and 
 silent, over a desert as flat as the outspread ocean. 
 
 The sky had been obscured since the morning by 
 thin mists and vapors, but now vast piles of clouds 
 were gathered together in the west. They rose to a 
 great height above the horizon, and looking up 
 toward them, I distinguished one mass darker than 
 the rest, and of a peculiar conical form. I hap- 
 pened to look again, and still could see it as before. 
 At some moments it was dimly seen, at others its 
 outline was sharp and distinct ; but while the clouds 
 around it were shifting, changing, and dissolving 
 away, it still towered aloft in the midst of them, 
 fixed and immovable. It must, thought I, be the 
 summit of a mountain ; and yet its height staggered 
 me. My conclusion was right, however. It was 
 Long's Peak, once believed to be one of the high- 
 est of the Rocky Mountain chain, though more 
 recent discoveries have proved the contrary. The 
 thickening gloom soon hid it from view, and we 
 never saw it again, for on the following day, and 
 for some time after, the air was so full of mist that 
 the view of distant objects was entirely intercepted. 
 
 It grew very late. Turning from our direct 
 course, we made for the river at its nearest point, 
 though in the utter darkness it was not easy to di- 
 rect our Avay with much precision. Raymond rode 
 on one side and Henry on the other. We could 
 hear each of them shouting that he had come upon 
 a deep ravine. We steered at random between 
 Scylla and Charybchs, and soon after became, as it 
 seemed, inextricably involved with deep chasms all 
 around us, while the darkness was such that we 
 could not see a rod in any direction. W^e partially 
 extricated ourselves by scrambling, cart and all, 
 
324 THE OREGON TRAIL. 
 
 through a shallow ravine. We came next to a steep 
 descent, down which we plunged without well know- 
 ing what was at the bottom. There was a great 
 cracking of sticks and dry twigs. Over our heads 
 were certain large shadowy objects ; and in front 
 something like the faint gleaming of a dark sheet 
 of water. Rayinond ran his horse against a tree ; 
 Henry alighted, and feeling on the ground, declared 
 that there was grass enough for the horses. Before 
 taking off his saddle, each man led his own horses 
 down to the water in the best way he could. Then 
 picketing two or three of the evil-disposed, we 
 turned the rest loose, and lay down among the dry 
 sticks to sleep. In the morning we found ourselves 
 close to the South Fork of the Platte, on a spot sur- 
 rounded by bushes and rank grass. Compensating 
 ourselves with a hearty breakfast for the ill fare of 
 the previous night, we set forward again on our 
 journey. When only two or three rods from the 
 camp I saw Shaw stop his mule, level his gun, and 
 after a long aim fire at some object in the grass. 
 Delorier next jumped forward, and began to dance 
 about, belaboring the unseen enemy with a whip. 
 Then he stooped down, and drew out of the grass 
 by the neck an enormous rattlesnake, with his head 
 completely shattered by Shaw' s bullet. As Delorier 
 held him out at arm's length v/ith an exulting grin, 
 his tail, which still kept slowly writhing about, almost 
 touched the ground ; and the body in the largest 
 part was as thick as a stout man's arm. He had 
 fourteen rattles, but the end of his tail was blunted, 
 as if he could once have boasted of many more. 
 From this time till we reached the Pueblo, we killed 
 at least four or five of these snakes every day, as 
 they lay coiled and rattling on the hot sand. Shaw 
 was the Saint Patrick of the party, and whenever 
 he or anyone else killed a snake he always pulled 
 
THE LONELY JOURNEY. 325 
 
 ofif its tail and stored it av/ay in his bullet-pouch, 
 which was soon crammed with an edifying collec- 
 tion of rattles, great and small. Belorier with his 
 whip also came in for a share of the praise. A day 
 or two after this he triumphantly produced a small 
 snake about a span and a half long, with one infant 
 rattle at the end of its tail. 
 
 We forded the South Fork of the Platte. On its 
 farther bank were the traces of a very large camp 
 of Arapahoes. The ashes of some three hundred 
 fires were visible among the scattered trees, together 
 with the remains of sweating lodges, and all the 
 other appurtenances of a permanent camp. The 
 place, however, had been for some months deserted. 
 A few miles farther on we found more recent signs 
 of Indians ; the trail of two or three lodges, which 
 had evidently passed the day before, where every 
 footprint was perfectly distinct in the dry, dusty soil. 
 We noticed in particular the track of one moccason, 
 upon the sole of which its economical proprietor 
 had placed a large patch. These signs gave us but 
 little uneasiness, as the number of the warriors 
 scarcely exceeded that of our own party. At noon 
 we rested under the walls of a large fort, built in 
 these solitudes some years since by M, St. Vrain. 
 It was now abandoned and fast falling into ruin. 
 The walls of unbaked bricks were cracked from top 
 to bottom. Our horses recoiled in terror from the 
 neglected entrance, where the heavy gates were torn 
 from their hinges and flung down. The area within 
 was overgrown with weeds, and the long ranges of 
 apartments once occupied by the motley concourse 
 of traders, Canadians, and squaws, were now 
 miserably dilapidated. Twelve miles farther on, 
 near the spot where we encamped, were the remains 
 of still another fort, standing in melancholy deser- 
 tion and neglect. 
 
326 THE OREGON TRAIL. 
 
 Early on the following morning we made a start- 
 ling discovery. We passed close by a large deserted 
 encampment of Arapahoes. There were about fifty 
 fires still smouldering on the ground, and it was 
 evident from numerous signs that the Indians must 
 have left the place within two hours of our reaching 
 it. Their trail crossed our own at right angles, 
 and led in the direction of a line of hills, half a 
 mile on our left. There were women and children 
 in the party, which would have greatly diminished 
 the danger of encountering them. Henry Chatillon 
 examined the encampment and the trail with a very 
 professional and business-like air. 
 
 "Supposing we had met them, Henry?" said I. 
 
 "Why," said he, "we hold out our hands to 
 them, and give them all we' ve got ; they take away 
 everything, and then I beheve they no kill us. 
 Perhaps," added he, looking up with a quiet un- 
 changed face, "perhaps we no let them rob us. 
 Maybe before they come near, we have a chance to 
 get into a ravine, or under the bank of the river ; 
 then, you know, we fight them." 
 
 About noon on that day we reached Cherry Creek. 
 Here was a great abundance of wild-cherries, plums, 
 gooseberries, and currants. The stream, however, 
 like most of the others which we passed, was dried 
 up with the heat, and we had to dig holes in the 
 sand to find water for ourselves and our horses. 
 Two days after we left the banks of the creek which 
 we had been following for some time, and began to 
 cross the high dividing ridge which separates the 
 waters of the Platte from those of the Arkansas. 
 The scenery was altogether changed. In place of 
 the burning plains, we were passing now through 
 rough and savage glens, and among hills crowned 
 with a dreary growth of pines. We encamped 
 among these solitudes on the night of the sixteenth 
 
THE LONELY JOURNEY. 327 
 
 of August. A tempest was threatening. The sun 
 went down among volumes of jet-black clouds, 
 edged with a bloody red. But in spite of these 
 portentous signs we neglected to put up the tent, 
 and being extremely fatigued, lay down on the ground 
 and fell asleep. The storm broke about midnight, 
 and we erected the tent amid darkness and confusion. 
 In the morning all was fair again, and Pike's Peak, 
 white with snow, was towering above the wilderness 
 afar off. 
 
 We pushed through an extensive tract of pine 
 woods. Large black squirrels were leaping among 
 the branches. From the farther edge of this forest 
 we saw the prairie again, hollowed out before us 
 into a vast basin, and about a mile in front we could 
 discern a little black speck moving upon its surface. 
 It could be nothing but a buffalo. Henry primed 
 his rifle afresh and galloped forward. To the left 
 of the animal was a low rocky mound, of which 
 Henry availed himself in making his approach. 
 After a short time we heard the faint report of the 
 rifle. The bull, mortally wounded from a distance 
 of nearly three hundred yards, ran wildly round and 
 round in a circle. Shaw and I then galloped for- 
 ward, and passing him as he ran foaming with rage 
 and pain, we discharged our pistols into his side. 
 Once or twice he rushed furiously upon us, but his 
 strength was rapidly exhausted. Down he fell on 
 his knees. For one instant he glared up at his 
 enemies, with burning eyes, through his black 
 tangled mane, and then rolled over on his side. 
 Though gaunt and thin, he was larger and heavier 
 than the largest ox. Foam and blood flew together 
 from his nostrils as he lay bellowing and pawing the 
 ground, tearing up grass and earth with his hoofs. 
 His sides rose and fell like a vast pair of bellows, 
 the blood spouting up in jets from the bullet-holes. 
 
328 THE OREGON TRAIL. 
 
 Suddenly his glaring eyes became like a lifeless 
 jelly. He lay motionless on the ground. Henry 
 stooped over him, and making an incision with his 
 knife, pronounced the meat too rank and tough for 
 use ; so, disappointed in our hopes of an addition 
 to our stock of provisions, we rode away and left 
 the carcass to the wolves. 
 
 In the afternoon we saw the mountains rising like 
 a gigantic wall at no great distance on our right. 
 ' ' Des smtvages ! dcs sauvages / ' ' exclaimed Delo- 
 rier, looking around with a frightened face, and point- 
 ing with his whip toward the foot of the mountains. 
 In fact, we could see at a distance a number of little 
 black specks, like horsemen in rapid motion. Henry 
 Chatillon, with Shaw and myself, galloped toward 
 them to reconnoitre, when, to our amusement, we 
 saw the supposed Arapahoes resolved into the black 
 tops of some pine trees which grew along a ravine. 
 The summits of these pines, just visible above the 
 verge of the prairie, and seeming to move as we 
 ourselves were advancing, looked exactly like a line 
 of horsemen. 
 
 We encamped among ravines and hollows, through 
 which a little brook was foaming angrily. Before 
 sunrise in the morning the snow-covered mountains 
 were beautifully tinged with a delicate rose color. 
 A noble spectacle awaited us as we moved forward. 
 Six or eight miles on our right. Pike's Peak and his 
 giant brethren rose out of the level prairie, as if 
 springing from the bed of the ocean. From their 
 summits down to the plain below they were in- 
 volved in a mantle of clouds, in restless motion, as 
 if urged by strong winds. For one instant some 
 snowy peak, towering in awful solitude, would be 
 disclosed to view. As the clouds broke along the 
 mountain, we could see the dreary forests, the tre- 
 mendous precipices, the white patches of snow, the 
 
THE LONELY JOURNEY. 329 
 
 gulfs and chasms as black as night, all revealed 
 for an instant, and then disappearing from the 
 view. One could not but recall the stanza of 
 Childe Harold : 
 
 " Morn dawns, and with it stern Albania's hills, 
 Dark Suli's rocks, and Pindus' inland peak, 
 Robed half in mist, bedewed with snowy rills, 
 Array'd in many a dun and purple streak, 
 Arise ; and, as the clouds along them break, 
 Disclose the dwelling of the mountaineer : 
 Here roams the wolf, the eagle whets his beak, 
 Birds, beasts of prey, and wilder men appear. 
 
 And gathering storms around convulse the closing year." 
 
 Every line save one of this description was more 
 than verified here. There were no ' ' dweUings of 
 the mountaineer ' ' among these heights. Fierce 
 savages, restlessly wandering through summer and 
 winter, alone invade them. "Their hand is 
 against every man, and every man's hand against 
 them." 
 
 On the day after we had left the mountains at 
 some distance. A black cloud descended upon 
 them, and a tremendous explosion of thunder fol- 
 lowed, reverberating among the precipices. In a 
 few moments everything grew black, and the rain 
 poured down like a cataract. We got under an old 
 cotton-wood tree, which stood by the side of a 
 stream, and waited there till the rage of the torrent 
 had passed. 
 
 The clouds opened at the point where they first 
 had gathered, and the whole sublime congregation 
 of mountains was bathed at once in warm sun- 
 shine. They seemed more like some luxurious 
 vision of eastern romance than like a reality of that 
 wilderness ; all were melted together into a soft 
 delicious blue, as voluptuous as the sky of Naples 
 or the transparent sea that washes the sunny cliffs 
 
330 THE OREGON TRAIL. 
 
 of Capri. On the left the whole sky was still of an 
 inky blackness ; but two concentric rainbows stood 
 in brilliant relief against it, while far in front the 
 ragged cloud still streamed before the wind, and the 
 retreating thunder muttered angrily. 
 
 Through that afternoon and the next morning we 
 were passing down the banks of the stream called 
 " La Fontaine qui Bouille," from the boiling spring 
 whose waters flow into it. When we stopped at 
 noon we were within six or eight miles of the 
 Pueblo. Setting out again, we found by the fresh 
 tracks that a horseman had just been out to recon- 
 noitre us ; he had circled half round the camp, and 
 then galloped back full speed for the Pueblo. What 
 made him so shy of us we could not conceive. After 
 an hour's ride we reached the edge of a hill, from 
 which a welcome sight greeted us. The Arkansas 
 ran along the valley below, among woods and 
 groves, and closely nestled in the midst of wide 
 corn-fields and green meadows, where cattle were 
 grazing, rose the low mud walls of the Pueblo. 
 
 CHAPTER XXI. 
 
 THE PUEBLO AND BENT'S FORT. 
 
 " It came to pass, that when he did address 
 
 Himself to quit at length this mountain land, 
 Combined marauders half-way barred egress, 
 And wasted far and near with glaive and brand." 
 Childe Harold. 
 
 We approached the gate of the Pueblo. It was a 
 wretched species of fort, of most primitive con- 
 struction, being nothing more than a large square 
 inclosure, surrounded by a wall of mud, miserably 
 
TtlE PUEBLO AND BENT'S FORT. 33 1 
 
 cracked and dilapidated. The slender pickets that 
 surmounted it were half-broken down, and the gate 
 dangled on its wooden hinges so loosely that to 
 open or shut it seemed likely to fling it down alto- 
 gether. Two or three squalid Mexicans, with their 
 broad hats, and their vile faces overgrown with hair, 
 were lounging about the bank of the river in front of it. 
 They disappeared as they saw us approach ; and as 
 we rode up to the gate, a light, active, little figure 
 came out to meet us. It was our old friend Richard. 
 He had come from Fort Laramie on a trading expe- 
 dition to Taos ; but finding when he reached the 
 Pueblo that the war would prevent his going farther, 
 he was quietly waiting till the conquest of the coun- 
 try should allow him to proceed. He seemed to 
 consider himself bound to do the honors of the 
 place. Shaking us warmly by the hand, he led the 
 way into the area. 
 
 Here we saw his large Santa Fe wagons standing 
 together. A few squaws and Spanish women, and 
 a few Mexicans, as mean and miserable as the place 
 itself, were lazily sauntering about. Richard con- 
 ducted us to the state apartment of the Pueblo. A 
 small mud room, very neatly finished, considering 
 the material, and garnished with a crucifix, a look- 
 ing-glass, a picture of the Virgin, and a rusty horse- 
 pistol. There were no chairs, but instead of them 
 a number of chests and boxes ranged about the 
 room. There was another room beyond, less 
 sumptuously decorated, and here three or four 
 Spanish girls, one of them very pretty, were baking 
 cakes at a mud fireplace in the corner. They 
 brought out a poncho, which they spread upon the 
 floor by way of table-cloth. A supper, which 
 seemed to us luxurious, was soon laid out upon it, 
 and folded buffalo-robes were placed around it to 
 receive the g-uests. Two or three Americans besides 
 
332 THE OREGON TRAIL. 
 
 ourselves were present. We sat down Turkish 
 fashion, and began to inquire the news. Richard 
 told us that about three weeks before General Kear- 
 ney' s army had left Bent's Fort to march against 
 Santa Fe ; that when last heard from they were 
 approaching the mountainous defiles that led to the 
 city. One of the Americans produced a dingy news- 
 paper containing an account of the battles of Palo 
 Alto and Resaca de la Palma. While we were dis- 
 cussing these matters, the doorway was darkened 
 by a tall, shambling fellow, who stood with his 
 hands in his pockets, taking a leisurely survey of the 
 premises before he entered. He wore brown home- 
 spun pantaloons, much too short for his legs, and a 
 pistol and Bowie-knife stuck in his belt. His head 
 and one eye were enveloped in a huge bandage of 
 white linen. Having completed his observations, 
 he came slouching in, and sat down on a chest. 
 Eight or ten more of the same stam.p followed, and, 
 very coolly arranging themselves about the room, 
 began to stare at the company. Shaw and I looked 
 at each other. We were forcibly reminded of the 
 Oregon emigrants, though these unwelcome visitors 
 had a certain glitter of the eye, and a compression 
 of the lips, which distinguished them from our old 
 acquaintances of the prairie. They began to cate- 
 chise us at once, inquiring whence we had come, 
 what we meant to do next, and what were our future 
 prospects in life. 
 
 The man with the bandaged head had met with an 
 untoward accident a few days before. He was going 
 down to the river to bring water, and was pushing 
 through the young willows which covered the low 
 ground, when he came unawares upon a grizzly 
 bear, which having just eaten a buffalo-bull, had 
 lain down to sleep off the meal. The bear rose on 
 his hind legs, and gave the intruder such a blow 
 
THE PUEBLO AND BENT'S FORT. 333 
 
 with his paw that he laid his forehead entirely bare, 
 clawed off the front of his scalp, and narrowly missed 
 one of his eyes. Fortunately he was not in a very 
 pugnacious mood, being surfeited with his late meal. 
 The man's companions, who were close behind, 
 raised a shout, and the bear walked away, crushing 
 down the willows in his leisurely retreat. 
 
 These men belonged to a party of Mormons, who, 
 out of a well-grounded fear of the other emigrants, 
 had postponed leaving the settlements until all the 
 rest were gone. On account of this delay they did 
 not reach Fort Laramie until it was too late to con- 
 tinue their journey to California. Hearing that there 
 was good land at the head of the Arkansas, they 
 crossed over under the guidance of Richard, and 
 were now preparing to spend the winter at a spot 
 about half a mile from the Pueblo. 
 
 When we took leave of Richard it was near sun- 
 set. Passing out of the gate, we could look down 
 the little valley of the Arkansas ; a beautiful scene, 
 and doubly so to our eyes, so long accustomed to 
 deserts and mountains. Tall woods lined the river, 
 with green meadows on either hand ; and high bluffs, 
 quietly basking in the sunlight, flanked the narrow 
 valley. A Mexican on horseback was driving a 
 herd of cattle toward the gate, and our little white 
 tent, which the men had pitched under a large tree 
 in the meadow, made a very pleasing feature in the 
 scene. When we reached it, we found that Richard 
 had sent a Mexican to bring us an abundant supply 
 of green corn and vegetables, and invite us to help 
 ourselves to whatever we wished from the fields 
 around the Pueblo. 
 
 The inhabitants were in daily apprehension of an 
 inroad from more formidable consumers than our- 
 selves. Every year, at the time when the corn 
 begins to ripen, the Arapahoes, to the number of 
 
334 ^-^-^ OREGON TRAIL. 
 
 several thousands, come and encamp around the 
 Pueblo. The handful of white men, who are en- 
 tirely at the mercy of this swarm of barbarians, 
 choose to make a merit of necessity ; they come for- 
 ward very cordially, shake them by the hand, and 
 intimate that the harvest is entirely at their disposal. 
 The Arapahoes take them at their word, help them- 
 selves most liberally, and usually turn their horses 
 into the cornfields afterward. They have the fore- 
 sight, however, to leave enough of the crops un- 
 touched to serve as an inducement for planting the 
 fields again for their benefit in the next spring. 
 
 The human race in this part of the world is sepa- 
 rated into three divisions, arranged in the order of 
 their merits : white men, Indians, and Mexicans ; to 
 the latter of whom the honorable title of ' ' whites ' ' 
 is by no means conceded. 
 
 In spite of the warm sunset of that evening, the 
 next morning was a dreary and cheerless one. It 
 rained steadily, clouds resting upon the very tree- 
 tops. We crossed the river to visit the Mormon 
 settlement. As we passed through the water, sev- 
 eral trappers on horseback entered it from the other 
 side. Their buckskin frocks were soaked through 
 by the rain, and clung fast to their limbs with a 
 most clammy and uncomfortable look. The water 
 was trickling down their faces, and dropping from 
 the ends of their rifles and from the traps which 
 each carried at the pommel of his saddle. Horses 
 and all, they had a most disconsolate and woebe- 
 gone appearance, which we could not help laughing 
 at, forgetting how often we ourselves had been in a 
 similar plight. 
 
 After half an hour's riding we saw the white 
 wagons of the Mormons drawn up among the trees. 
 Axes were sounding, trees were falling, and log-huts 
 going up along the edge of the woods and upon the 
 
THE PUEBLO AND BENT'S FORT. 335 
 
 adjoining meadow. As we came up the Mormons 
 left their work and seated themselves on the timber 
 around us, when they began earnestly to discuss 
 points of theology, complain of the ill usage they 
 had received from the "Gentiles," and sound a 
 lamentation over the loss of their great temple of 
 Nauvoo. After remaining with them an hour we 
 rode back to our camp, happy that the settlements 
 had been delivered from the presence of such blind 
 and desperate fanatics. 
 
 On the morning after this we left the Pueblo for 
 Bent's Fort. The conduct of Raymond had lately 
 been less satisfactory than before, and we had dis- 
 charged him as soon as we arrived at the former 
 place ; so that the party, ourselves included, was 
 now reduced to four. There was some uncertainty 
 as to our future course. The trail between Bent's 
 Fort and the settlements, a distance computed at 
 six hundred miles, was at this time in a dangerous 
 state ; for, since the passage of General Kearney's 
 army, great numbers of hostile Indians, chiefly 
 Pawnees and Comanches, had gathered about some 
 parts of it. A httle after this time they became so 
 numerous and audacious that scarcely a single 
 party, however large, passed between the fort and 
 the frontier without some token of their hostility. 
 The newspapers of the time sufficiently display this 
 state of things. Many men were killed, and great 
 numbers of horses and mules carried off. Not long 
 since I met with a gentleman, who, during the au- 
 tumn, came from Santa Fe to Bent's Fort, where he 
 found a party of seventy men, who thought them- 
 selves too weak to go down to the settlements alone, 
 and were waiting there for a reinforcement. Though 
 this excessive timidity fully proves the ignorance and 
 creduhty of the men, it may also evince the state of 
 alarm which prevailed in the country. When we 
 
336 THE OREGON TRAIL. 
 
 were there in the month of August the danger had 
 not become so great. There was nothing very 
 attractive in the neighborhood. We supposed, more- 
 over, that we might wait there half the winter with- 
 out finding any party to go down with us ; for Mr. 
 Sublette and the others whom we had rehed upon 
 had, as Richard told us, already left Bent's Fort. 
 Thus far on our journey fortune had kindly be- 
 friended us. We resolved, therefore, to take advan- 
 tage of her gracious mood, and trusting for a con- 
 tinuance of her favors, to set out with Henry and 
 Delorier, and run the gauntlet of the Indians in the 
 best way we could. 
 
 Bent's Fort stands on the river, about seventy- 
 five miles below the Pueblo. At noon of the third 
 day we arrived within three or four miles of it, 
 pitched our tent under a tree, hung our looking- 
 glasses against its trunk, and having made our 
 primitive toilet, rode toward the fort. We soon 
 came in sight of it, for it is visible from a considerable 
 distance, standing with its high clay walls in the 
 midst of the scorching plains. It seemed as if a 
 swarm of locusts had invaded the country. The 
 grass for miles around was cropped close by the 
 horses of General Kearney's soldiery. When we 
 came to the fort we found that not only had the 
 horses eaten up the grass, but their owners had 
 made way with the stores of the little trading-post ; 
 so that we had great difficulty in procuring the few 
 articles which we required for our homeward jour- 
 ney. The army was gone, the life and bustle 
 passed away, and the fort was a scene of dull and 
 lazy tranquillity. A few invalid officers and soldiers 
 sauntered about the area, which was oppressively 
 hot ; for the glaring sun was reflected down upon it 
 from the high white walls around. The proprietors 
 were absent, and we were received by Mr. Holt, 
 
THE PUEBLO AND BENT'S FORT. 33/ 
 
 who had been left in charge of the fort. He invited 
 us to dinner, where, to our admiration, we found a 
 table laid with a white cloth, with castors in the 
 centre and chairs placed around it. This unwonted 
 repast concluded, we rode back to our camp. 
 
 Here, as we lay smoking round the fire after 
 supper, we saw through the dusk three men ap- 
 proaching from the direction of the fort. They 
 rode up and seated themselves near us on the 
 ground. The foremost was a tall, well-formed man, 
 with a face and manner such as inspire confidence 
 at once. He wore a broad hat of felt, slouching 
 and tattered, and the rest of his attire consisted of a 
 frock and leggings of buckskin, rubbed with the 
 yellow clay found among the mountains. At the 
 heel of one of his moccasons was buckled a huge 
 iron spur, with a rowel five or six inches in diame- 
 ter. His horse, who stood quietly looking over his 
 head, had a rude Mexican saddle, covered with a 
 shaggy bear-skin, and furnished with a pair of 
 wooden stirrups of most preposterous size. The 
 next man was a sprightly, active little fellow, about 
 five feet and a quarter high, but very strong and 
 compact. His face was swarthy as a Mexican's, 
 and covered with a close, curly, black beard. An 
 old, greasy calico handkerchief was tied round his 
 head, and his close buckskin dress was blackened 
 and polished by grease and hard service. The last 
 who came up was a large, strong man, dressed in 
 the coarse homespun of the frontiers, who dragged 
 his long limbs over the ground as if he were too 
 lazy for the effort. He had a sleepy gray eye, a 
 retreating chin, an open m.outh, and a protruding 
 upper lip, which gave him an air of exquisite indo- 
 lence and helplessness. He was armed with an 
 old United States yager, which redoubtable weapon, 
 though he could never hit his mark with it, he was 
 22 
 
338 THE OREGON TRAIL. 
 
 accustomed to cherish as the very sovereign of fire- 
 arms. 
 
 The first two men belonged to a party who had 
 just come from Cahfornia, with a large band of 
 horses, which they had disposed of at Bent's Fort. 
 Munroe, the taller of the two, was from Iowa. He 
 was an excellent fellow, open, warm-hearted, and 
 intelligent. Jim Gurney, the short man, was a Bos- 
 ton sailor, who had come in a trading-vessel to 
 California, and taken the fancy to return across the 
 continent. The journey had already made him an 
 expert "mountain man," and he presented the 
 extraordinary phenomenon of a sailor who under- 
 stood how to manage a horse. The third of our 
 visitors, named Ellis, was a Missourian, who had 
 come out with a party of Oregon emigrants, but 
 having got as far as Bridge's Fort, he had fallen 
 home-sick, or as Jim averred, love-sick — and Ellis 
 was just the man to be balked in a love adventure. 
 He thought proper, therefore, to join the California 
 men, and return homeward in their company. 
 
 They now requested that they might unite with 
 our party, and make the journey to the settlements 
 in company with us. We readily assented, for we 
 liked the appearance of the first two men, and w^ere 
 very glad to gain so efficient a reinforcement. We 
 told them to meet us on the next evening at a spot 
 on the river side, about six miles below the fort. 
 Having smoked a pipe together, our new allies left 
 us, and we lay down to sleep. 
 
CHAPTER XXII. 
 
 TETE ROUGE, THE VOLUNTEER. 
 
 " Ah me ! what evils do environ 
 The man that meddles w^ith cold iron." 
 
 HUDIBRAS. 
 
 The next morning, having directed Delorier to 
 repair with his cart to the place of meeting, we came 
 again to the fort to make some arrangements for 
 the journey. After completing these, we sat down 
 under a sort of porch, to smoke with some Shienne 
 Indians whom we found there. In a few minutes 
 we saw an extraordinary little figure approach us 
 in a military dress. He had a small, round coun- 
 tenance, garnished about the eyes with the kind of 
 wrinkles commonly known as crow's feet, and sur- 
 mounted by an abundant crop of red curls, with a 
 little cap resting on the top of them. Altogether, 
 he had the look of a man more conversant with 
 mint-juleps and oyster-suppers than with the hard- 
 ships of prairie-service. He came up to us and 
 entreated that we would take him home to the settle- 
 ments, saying that unless he went wuth us he should 
 have to stay all winter at the fort. We liked our 
 petitioner' s appearance so little that we excused our- 
 selves from complying with his request. At this he 
 begged us so hard to take pity on him, looked so 
 disconsolate, and told so lamentable a story, that at 
 last we consented, though not without many mis- 
 givings. 
 
 The rugged Anglo-Saxon of our new recruit' s real 
 name proved utterly unmanageable on the lips of 
 our French attendants, and Henry Chatillon, after 
 various abortive attempts to pronounce it, one day 
 
 339 
 
340 THE OREGON TRAIL. 
 
 coolly christened him Tete Rouge, in honor of his 
 red curls. He had at different times been clerk of 
 a Mississippi steamboat, and agent in a trading 
 establishment at Nauvoo, besides filling various 
 other capacities, in all of which he had seen much 
 more of "life" than was good for him. In the 
 spring, thinking that a summer's campaign would 
 be an agreeable recreation, he had joined a com- 
 pany of St. Louis volunteers. 
 
 "There were three of us," said Tete Rouge, 
 "me and Bill Stephens and John Hopkins. We 
 thought we would just go out with the army, and 
 when we had conquered the country, we would get 
 discharged and take our pay, you know, and go 
 down to Mexico. They say there is plenty of fun 
 going on there. Then we could go back to New 
 Orleans by way of Vera Cruz." 
 
 But Tete Rouge, like many a stouter volunteer, 
 had reckoned without his host. Fighting Mexicans 
 was a less amusing occupation than he had sup- 
 posed, and his pleasure-trip was disagreeably inter- 
 rupted by brain-fever, which attacked him when 
 about half-way to Bent's Fort. He jolted along 
 through the rest of the journey in a baggage- wagon. 
 When they came to the fort he was taken out and 
 left there, together with the rest of the sick. Bent's 
 Fort does not supply the best accommodations for 
 an invalid. Tete Rouge' s sick chamber was a little 
 mud room, where he and a companion, attacked by 
 the same disease, were laid together, with nothing 
 but a buffalo-rob^ between them and the ground. 
 The assistant surgeon's deputy visited them once a 
 day and brought them each a huge dose of calomel, 
 the only medicine, according to his surviving victim, 
 with which he was acquainted. 
 
 Tete Rouge woke one morning, and, turning to 
 his companion, saw his eyes fixed upon the beams 
 
T^TE ROUGE, THE VOLUNTEER. 34 1 
 
 above with the glassy stare of a dead man. At this 
 the unfortunate vohmteer lost his senses outright. 
 In spite of the doctor, however, he eventually re- 
 covered ; though between the brain-fever and the 
 calomel, his mind, originally none of the strongest, 
 was so much shaken that it had not C|uite recovered 
 its balance when we came to the fort. In spite of 
 the poor fellow's tragic story, there was something 
 so ludicrous in his appearance, and the whimsical 
 contrast between his military dress and his most 
 unmilitary demeanor, that we could not help smiling 
 at them. We asked him if he had a gun. He said 
 they had taken it from him during his illness, and 
 he had not seen it since ; but perhaps, he observed, 
 looking at me with a beseeching air, you will lend 
 me one of your big pistols if we should meet with 
 any Indians. I next inquired if he had a horse ; 
 he declared he had a magnificent one, and at 
 Shaw's request, a Mexican led him in for inspec- 
 tion. He exhibited the outhne of a good horse, 
 but his eyes were sunk in the sockets, and every 
 one of his ribs could be counted. There were 
 certain marks, too, about his shoulders, which could 
 be accounted for by the circumstance that, during 
 Tete Rouge's illness, his companions had seized 
 upon the insulted charger, and harnessed him to a 
 cannon along with the draft horses. To Tete 
 Rouge's astonishment, we recommended him by all 
 means to exchange the horse, if he could, for a 
 mule. Fortunately the people at the fort were so 
 anxious to get rid of him that they were willing to 
 make some sacrifice to effect the object, and he 
 succeeded in getting a tolerable mule in exchange 
 for the broken-down steed. 
 
 A man soon appeared at the gate, leading in the 
 mule by a cord, which he placed in the hands of 
 Tete Rouge, who, being somewhat afraid of his new 
 
342 THE OREGON TRAIL. 
 
 acquisition, tried various flatteries and blandishments 
 to induce her to come forward. The mule, knowing 
 that she was expected to advance, stopped short in 
 consequence, and stood fast as a rock, looking 
 straight forward with immovable composure. Being 
 stimulated by a blow from behind, she consented to 
 move, and walked nearly to the other side of the 
 fort before she stopped again. Hearing the by- 
 standers laugh, Tete Rouge plucked up spirit and 
 tugged hard at the rope. The mule jerked back- 
 ward, spun herself round, and made a dash for the 
 gate. Tete Rouge, who clung manfully to the rope, 
 went whisking through the air for a few rods, when 
 he let go and stood with his mouth open, staring 
 after the mule, who galloped away over the prairie. 
 She was soon caught and brought back by a Mexi- 
 can, who mounted a horse and went in pursuit of 
 her with his lasso. 
 
 Having thus displayed his capacities for prairie 
 travelling, Tete proceeded to supply himself with 
 provisions for the journey, and with this view he 
 applied to a quarter-master's assistant who was in 
 the fort. This official had a face as sour as vinegar, 
 being in a state of chronic indignation because he 
 had been left behind the army. He was as anxious 
 as the rest to get rid of Tete Rouge. So, producing 
 a rusty key, he opened a low door which led to a 
 half-subterranean apartment, into which the two 
 disappeared together. After some time they came 
 out again, Tete Rouge greatly embarrassed by a 
 multiplicity of paper parcels containing the different 
 articles of his forty days' rations. They were con- 
 signed to the care of Delorier, who about that time 
 passed by with the cart on his way to the appointed 
 place of meeting with Munroe and his companions. 
 
 We next urged Tete Rouge to provide himself, if 
 he could, with a gun. He accordingly made earnest 
 
TETE ROUGE, THE VOLUNTEER. 343 
 
 appeals to the charity of various persons in the fort, 
 but totally without success, a circumstance which 
 did not greatly disturb us, since, in the event of a 
 skirmish, he would be much more apt to do mis- 
 chief to himself or his friends than to the enemy. 
 When all these arrangements were completed we 
 saddled our horses, and were preparing to leave 
 the fort, when, looking around, we discovered that 
 our new associate was in fresh trouble. A man was 
 holding the mule for him in the middle of the fort, 
 while he tried to put the saddle on her back, but 
 she kept stepping sideways and moving round and 
 round in a circle, until he was almost in despair. 
 It required some assistance before all his difficulties 
 could be overcome. At length, he clambered into 
 the black war-saddle on which he was to have car- 
 ried terror into the ranks of the Mexicans. 
 
 "Get up!" said Tete Rouge; "come now, go 
 along, will you ?' ' 
 
 The mule walked deliberately forward out of the 
 gate. Her recent conduct had inspired him with so 
 much awe that he never dared to touch her with his 
 whip. We trotted forward toward the place of meet- 
 ing, but before we had gone far we saw that Tete 
 Rouge's mule, who perfectly understood her rider, 
 had stopped and was quietly grazing, in spite of his 
 protestations, at some distance behind. So, getting 
 behind him, we drove him and the contumacious 
 mule before us, until we could see through the twi- 
 light the gleaming of a distant fire. Munroe, Jim, 
 and Ellis were lying around it ; their saddles, packs, 
 and weapons were scattered about and their horses 
 picketed near them. Delorier was there, too, with 
 our little cart. Another fire was soon blazing high. 
 We invited our new allies to take a cup of coffee 
 with us. When both the others had gone over to 
 their side of the camp, Jim Gurney still stood by 
 
344 THE OREGON TRAIL. 
 
 the blaze, puffing hard at his little black pipe, as 
 short and weather-beaten as himself. 
 
 "Well!" he said, "here are eight of us ; we'll 
 call it six — for them two boobies, Ellis over yonder, 
 and that new man of yours, won't count for any- 
 thing. We'll get through well enough, never fear 
 for that, unless the Comanches happen to get foul 
 of us." 
 
 CHAPTER XXIII. 
 
 INDIAN ALARMS. 
 
 " To all the sensual world proclaim, 
 One crowded hour of glorious life 
 Were worth an age without a name." — ScOTT. 
 
 We began our journey for the frontier settlements 
 on the twenty-seventh of August, and certainly a 
 more ragamuffin cavalcade never was seen on the 
 banks of the Upper Arkansas. Of the large and 
 fine horses with which we had left the frontier in the 
 spring, not one remained : we had supplied their 
 place with the rough breed of the prairie, as hardy 
 as mules and almost as ugly ; we had also with us 
 a number of the latter detestalDle animals. In spite 
 of their strength and hardihood, several of the band 
 were already worn down by hard service and hard 
 fare, and as none of them were shod, they were fast 
 becoming foot-sore. Every horse and mule had a 
 cord of twisted bull-hide coiled around his neck, 
 which by no means added to the beauty of his ap- 
 pearance. Our saddles and all our equipments 
 were by this time lamentably worn and battered, 
 and our weapons had become dull and rusty. The 
 dress of the riders fully corresponded with the 
 
INDIAN ALARMS. 345 
 
 dilapidated furniture of our horses, and of the whole 
 party none made a more disreputable appearance 
 than my friend and I. Shaw had for an upper gar- 
 ment an old red flannel shirt, flying open in front, 
 and belted around him like a frock ; while I, in ab- 
 sence of other clothing, was attired in a time-worn 
 suit of leather. 
 
 Thus, happy and careless as so many beggars, 
 we crept slowly from day to day along the monoto- 
 nous banks of the Arkansas. Tete Rouge gave 
 constant trouble, for he could never catch his mule, 
 saddle her, or, indeed, do anything else without 
 assistance. Every day he had some new ailment, 
 real or imaginary, to complain of. At one moment 
 he would be woe-begone and disconsolate, and at 
 the next he would be visited with a violent flow of 
 spirits, to which he could only give vent by inces- 
 sant laughing, whistling, and telling stories. When 
 other resources failed we used to amuse ourselves 
 by tormenting him ; a fair compensation for the 
 trouble he cost us. Tete Rouge rather enjoyed 
 being laughed at, for he was an odd compound of 
 weakness, eccentricity, and good nature. He made 
 a figure worthy of a painter as he paced along 
 before us, perched on the back of his mule, and 
 enveloped in a huge buffalo-robe coat, which some 
 charitable person had given him at the fort. This 
 extraordinary garment, which would have contained 
 two men of his size, he chose, for some reason best 
 known to himself, to wear inside out, and he never 
 took it off, even in the hottest weather. It was flut- 
 tering all over with seams and tatters, and the hide 
 was so old and rotten that it broke out every day in 
 a new place. Just at the top of it a large pile of red 
 curls was visible, with his little cap set jauntily upon 
 one side, to give him a military air. His seat in the 
 saddle was no less remarkable than his person and 
 
346 THE OREGON TRAIL. 
 
 equipment. He pressed one leg close against his 
 mule's side, and thrust the other out at an angle of 
 forty-five degrees. His pantaloons were decorated 
 with a military red stripe, of which he was ex- 
 tremely vain ; but being much too short, the whole 
 length of his boots was usually visible below them. 
 His blanket, loosely rolled up into a large bundle, 
 dangled at the back of his saddle, where he carried 
 it tied with a string. Four or five times a day it 
 would fall to the ground. Every few minutes he 
 would drop his pipe, his knife, his flint and steel, or 
 a piece of tobacco, and have to scramble down to 
 pick them up. In doing this he would contrive to 
 get in everybody's way ; and as the most of the 
 party were by no means remarkable for a fastidious 
 choice of language, a storm of anathemas would 
 be showered upon him, half in earnest and half in 
 jest, until Tete Rouge v/ould declare that there was 
 no comfort in life, and that he never saw such fel- 
 lows before. 
 
 Only a day or two after leaving Bent's Fort, Henry 
 Chatillon rode forward to hunt, and took Ellis along 
 with him. After they had been some time absent 
 we saw them coming down the hill, driving three 
 dragoon-horses, which had escaped from their own- 
 ers on the march, or perhaps had given out and 
 been abandoned. One of them was in tolerable 
 condition, but the others were much emaciated and 
 severely bitten by the wolves. Reduced as they 
 were, we carried two of them to the settlements, and 
 Henry exchanged the third with the Arapahoes for 
 an excellent mule. 
 
 On the day after, when we had stopped to rest at 
 noon, a long train of Santa Fe wagons came up and 
 trailed slowly past us in their picturesque procession. 
 They belonged to a trader named Magoffin, whose 
 brother, with a number of other men, came over and 
 
INDIAN ALARMS. 347 
 
 sat down around us on the grass. The news they 
 brought was not of the most pleasing complexion. 
 According to their accounts the trail below was in a 
 very dangerous state. They had repeatedly detected 
 Indians prowling at night around their camps ; and 
 the large party which had left Bent's Fort a few 
 weeks previous to our own departure had been at- 
 tacked, and a man named Swan, from Massachu- 
 setts, had been killed. His companions had buried 
 the body ; but when Magoffin found his grave, which 
 was near a place called " The Caches," the Indians 
 had dug up and scalped him, and the wolves had 
 shockingly mangled his remains. As an offset to 
 this intelligence, they gave us the welcome informa- 
 tion that the buffalo were numerous at a few days' 
 journey below. 
 
 On the next afternoon, as we moved along the 
 bank of the river, we saw the white tops of wagons 
 on the horizon. It was some hours before we met 
 them, when they proved to be a train of clumsy ox- 
 wagons, quite different from the rakish vehicles of 
 the Santa Fe traders, and loaded with government 
 stores for the troops. They all stopped, and the 
 drivers gathered around us in a crowd. I thought 
 that the whole frontier might have been ransacked 
 in vain to furnish men worse fitted to meet the dan- 
 gers of the prairie. Many of them were mere boys, 
 fresh from the plough, and devoid of knowledge 
 and experience. In respect to the state of the trail, 
 they confirmed all that the Santa Fe men had told 
 us. In passing between the Pawnee Fork and ' ' The 
 Caches, ' ' their sentinels had fired every night at real 
 or imaginary Indians. They said also that Ewing, a 
 young Kentuckian in the party that had gone down 
 before us, had shot an Indian who was prowling at 
 evening about the camp. Some of them advised us 
 to turn back, and others to hasten forward as fast as 
 
348 THE OREGON TRAIL. 
 
 we could ; but they all seemed in such a state of 
 feverish anxiety, and so little capable of cool judg- 
 ment, that we attached slight weight to what they 
 said. They next gave us a more definite piece of 
 intelligence ; a large village of Arapahoes was en- 
 camped on the river below. They represented them 
 to be quite friendly ; but some distinction was to be 
 made between a party of thirty men, travelling with 
 oxen, which are of no value in an Indian's eyes, and 
 a mere handful like ourselves, with a tempting band 
 of mules and horses. This story of the Arapahoes, 
 therefore, caused us some anxiety. 
 
 Just after leaving the government wagons, as Shaw 
 and I were riding along a narrow passage between 
 the river-bank and a rough hill that pressed close 
 upon it, we heard Tete Rouge's voice behind us. 
 " Halloo !" he called out ; " I say, stop the cart just 
 for a minute, will you ?" 
 
 "What's the matter, Tete ?" asked Shaw, as he 
 came riding up to us with a grin of exultation. He 
 had a bottle of molasses in one hand, and a large 
 bundle of hides on the saddle before him, contain- 
 ing, as he triumphantly informed us, sugar, biscuits, 
 coffee, and rice. These supplies he had obtained by 
 a stratagem on which he greatly plumed himself, and 
 he was extremely vexed and astonished that we did 
 not fall in with his views of the m^atter. He had told 
 Coates, the master-wagoner, that the commissary at 
 the fort had given him an order for sick-rations, di- 
 rected to the master of any government train which 
 he might meet upon the road. This order he had 
 unfortunately lost, but he hoped that the rations 
 would not be refused on that account, as he was suf- 
 fering from coarse fare and needed them very much. 
 As soon as he came to camp that night, Tete Rouge 
 repaired to the box at the back of the cart, where 
 Delorier used to keep his culinary apparatus, took 
 
INDIAN ALARMS. 349 
 
 possession of a saucepan, and after building a little 
 fire of his own, set to work preparing a meal out of 
 his ill-gotten booty. This done, he seized upon a 
 tin plate and spoon, and sat down under the cart to 
 regale himself. His preliminary repast did not at 
 all prejudice his subsequent exertions at supper ; 
 where, in spite of his miniature dimensions, he made 
 a better figure than any of us. Indeed, about this 
 time his appetite grew quite voracious. He began 
 to thrive wonderfully. His small body visibly ex- 
 panded, and his cheeks, which v/hen we first took 
 him were rather yellow and cadaverous, now dilated 
 in a wonderful manner, and became ruddy in pro- 
 portion. Tete Rouge, in short, began to appear like 
 another man. 
 
 Early in the afternoon of the next day, looking 
 along the edge of the horizon in front, we saw that 
 at one point it was faintly marked with pale inden- 
 tations, like the teeth of a saw. The lodges of the 
 Arapahoes, rising between us and the sky, caused 
 this singular appearance. It wanted still two or three 
 hours of sunset when we came opposite their camp. 
 There were full two hundred lodges standing in the 
 midst of a grassy meadow at some distance beyond 
 the river, while for a mile around and on either bank 
 of the Arkansas were scattered some fifteen hundred 
 horses and mules, grazing together in bands, or 
 wandering singly about the prairie. The whole were 
 visible at once, for the vast expanse was unbroken 
 by hills, and there was not a tree or a bush to inter- 
 cept the view. 
 
 Here and there walked an Indian, engaged in 
 watching the horses. No sooner did we see them 
 than Tete Rouge begged Delorier to stop the cart 
 and hand him his little military jacket, which was 
 stowed away there. In this he instantly invested 
 himself, having for once laid the old buffalo coat 
 
350 THE OREGON TRAIL. 
 
 aside, assumed a most martial posture in the saddle, 
 set his cap over his left eye with an air of defiance, 
 and earnestly entreated that somebody would lend 
 him a gun or a pistol only for half an hour. Being 
 called upon to explain these remarkable proceedings, 
 Tete Rouge observed that he knew from experience 
 what effect the presence of a military man in his 
 uniform always had upon the mind of an Indian, 
 and he thought the Arapahoes ought to know that 
 there was a soldier in the party. 
 
 Meeting Arapahoes here on the Arkansas was a 
 very different thing from meeting the same Indians 
 among their native mountains. There was another 
 circumstance in our favor. General Kearney had 
 seen them a few weeks before, as he came up the 
 river with his army, and renewing his threats of the 
 previous year, he told them that if they ever again 
 touched the hair of a white man's head he would 
 exterminate their nation. This placed them for the 
 time in an admirable frame of mind, and the effect 
 of his menaces had not yet disappeared. I was 
 anxious to see the village and its inhabitants. We 
 thought it also our best policy to visit them openly, 
 as if unsuspicious of any hostile design ; and Shaw 
 and I, with Henry Chatillon, prepared to cross the 
 river. The rest of the party meanwhile moved for- 
 ward as fast as they could, in order to get as far as 
 possible from our suspicious neighbors before night 
 came on. 
 
 The Arkansas at this point, and for several hun- 
 dred miles below, is nothing but a broad sand-bed, 
 over which a few scanty threads of water are swiftly 
 gliding, now and then expanding into wide shallows. 
 At several places, during the autumn, the water 
 sinks into the sand and disappears altogether. At 
 this season, were it not for the numerous quicksands, 
 the river might be forded almost anywhere without 
 
INDIAN ALARMS. 35 I 
 
 difficulty, though its channel is often a quarter of a 
 mile wide. Our horses jumped down the bank, and 
 wading through the water, or galloping freely over 
 the hard sand-beds, soon reached the other side. 
 Here, as we were pushing through the tall grass, we 
 saw several Indians not far off ; one of them waited 
 until we came up, and stood for some moments in 
 perfect silence before us, looking at us askance with 
 his little snake-like eyes. Hemy explained by 
 signs what we wanted, and the Indian, gathering his 
 buffalo-robe about his shoulders, led the way toward 
 the village without speaking a word. 
 
 The language of the Arapahoes is so difficult, and 
 its pronunciation so harsh and guttural, that no white 
 man, it is said, has ever been able to master it. 
 Even Maxwell, the trader, who has been most among 
 them, is compelled to resort to the curious sign- 
 language common to most of the prairie-tribes. 
 With this Henry Chatillon was perfectly acquainted. 
 
 Approaching the village, we found the ground all 
 around it strewn with great piles of waste buffalo- 
 meat in incredible quantities. The lodges were 
 pitched in a very wide circle. They resembled 
 those of the Dahcotah in everything but cleanliness 
 and neatness. Passing between two of them, we 
 entered the great circular area of the camp, and 
 instantly hundreds of Indians — men, women, and 
 children — came flocking out of their habitations to 
 look at us ; at the same time the dogs all around 
 the village set up a fearful baying. Our Indian 
 guide walked toward the lodge of the chief. Here 
 we dismounted ; and loosening the trail- ropes from 
 our horses' necks, held them securely, and sat down 
 before the entrance, with our rifles laid across our 
 laps. The chief came out and shook us by the 
 hand. He was a mean-looking fellow, very tall, 
 thin-visaged, and sinewy, like the rest of the nation, 
 
352 THE OREGON TRAIL. 
 
 and with scarcely a vestige of clothing. We had 
 not been seated half a minute before a multitude of 
 Indians came crowding around us from every part 
 of the village, and we were shut in by a dense 
 wall of savage faces. Some of the Indians crouched 
 around us on the ground ; others again sat behind 
 them ; others, stooping, looked over their heads ; 
 while many more stood crowded behind, stretching 
 themselves upward, and peering over each other's 
 shoulders, to get a view of us. I looked in vain 
 among this multitude of faces to discover one manly 
 or generous expression ; all were wolfish, sinister, 
 and malignant, and their complexions, as well as 
 their features, unlike those of the Dahcotah, were 
 exceedingly bad. The chief, who sat close to the 
 entrance, called to a squaw within the lodge, who 
 soon came out and placed a wooden bowl of meat 
 before us. To our surprise, however, no pipe was 
 offered. Having tasted of the meat as a matter of 
 form, I began to open a bundle of presents — tobacco, 
 knives, vermilion, and other articles which I had 
 brought with me. At this there was a grin on every 
 countenance in the rapacious crowd ; their eyes 
 began to glitter, and long, thin arms were eagerly 
 stretched toward us on all sides to receive the gifts. 
 The Arapahoes set great value upon their shields, 
 which they transmit carefully from father to son. I 
 wished to get one of them ; and displaying a large 
 piece of scarlet cloth, together with some tobacco 
 and a knife, I offered them to anyone who would 
 bring me what I wanted. After some delay a toler- 
 able shield was produced. They were very anxious 
 to know what we meant to do with it, and Henry 
 told them that we were going to fight their enemies, 
 the Pawnees, This instantly produced a visible 
 impression in our favor, which was increased by the 
 distribution of the presents. Among these was a 
 
INDIAN ALARMS. 353 
 
 large paper of awls, a gift appropriate to the women ; 
 and as we were anxious to see the beauties of the 
 Arapahoe village, Henry requested that they might 
 be called to receive them. A warrior gave a shout, 
 as if he were calling a pack of dogs together. The 
 squaws, young and old, hags of eighty and girls of 
 sixteen, came running with screams and laughter 
 out of the lodges ; and as the men gave way for 
 them, they gathered around us and stretched out 
 their arms, grinning with delight, their native ugli- 
 ness considerably enhanced by the excitement of 
 the moment. 
 
 Mounting our horses, which during the whole inter- 
 view we had held close to us, we prepared to leave 
 the Arapahoes. The crowd fell back on each side, 
 and stood looking on. When we were half-across the 
 camp an idea occurred to us. The Pawnees were 
 probably in the neighborhood of " The Caches' ' ; we 
 might tell the Arapahoes of this, and instigate them to 
 send down a war-party and cut them off, while we 
 ourselves could remain behind for a while and hunt 
 the buffalo. At first thought this plan of setting our 
 enemies to destroy one another seemed to us a 
 masterpiece of policy ; but we immediately recol- 
 lected that, should we meet the Arapahoe warriors 
 on the river below, they might prove quite as dan- 
 gerous as the Pawnees themselves. So, rejecting 
 our plan as soon as it presented itself, we passed 
 out of the village on the farther side. We urged 
 our horses rapidly through the tall grass, which rose 
 to their necks. Several Indians were walking through 
 it at a distance, their heads just visible above its 
 waving surface. It bore a kind of seed, as sweet 
 and nutritious as oats ; and our hungry horses, in 
 spite of whip and rein, could not resist the tempta- 
 tion of snatching at this unwonted luxury as we 
 passed along. When about a mile from the village, 
 23 
 
354 ^-^^ OREGON TRAIL. 
 
 I turned and looked back over the undulating ocean 
 of grass. The sun was just set ; the western sky 
 was all in a glow, and sharply defined against it, on 
 the extreme verge of the plain, stood the numerous 
 lodges of the Arapahoe camp. 
 
 Reaching the bank of the river, we followed it for 
 some distance farther, until we discerned through 
 the twilight the white covering of our little cart on 
 the opposite bank. When we reached it we found 
 a considerable number of Indians there before us. 
 Four or five of them were seated in a row upon the 
 ground, looking like so many half-starved vultures. 
 Tete Rouge, in his uniform, was holding a close col- 
 loquy with another by the side of the cart. His 
 gesticulations, his attempts at sign-making, and the 
 contortions of his countenance, were most ludicrous ; 
 and finding all these of no avail, he tried to make 
 the Indian understand him by repeating English 
 words very loudly and distinctly again and again. 
 The Indian sat with his eye fixed steadily upon him, 
 and in spite of the rigid immobility of his features, 
 it was clear at a glance that he perfectly understood 
 his military companion's character and thoroughly 
 despised him. The exhibition was more amusing 
 than politic, and Tete Rouge was directed to finish 
 what he had to say as soon as possible. Thus re- 
 buked, he crept under the cart and sat down there ; 
 Henry Chatillon stooped to look at him in his retire- 
 ment, and remarked in his quiet manner that an 
 Indian would kill ten such men and laugh all the 
 time. 
 
 One by one our visitors arose and stalked away. 
 As the darkness thickened we were saluted by dis- 
 mal sounds. The wolves are incredibly numerous 
 in this part of the country, and the offal around the 
 Arapahoe camp had drawn such multitudes of them 
 together that several hundreds were howling in con- 
 
INDIAN ALARMS. 355 
 
 cert in our immediate neighborhood. There was an 
 island in the river, or rather an oasis in the midst 
 of the sands, at about the distance of a gun-shot, 
 and here they seemed gathered in the greatest num- 
 bers. A horrible discord of low, mournful wailings, 
 mingled with ferocious howls, arose from it inces- 
 santly for several hours after sunset. We could 
 distinctly see the wolves running about the prairie 
 within a few rods of our fire, or bounding over the 
 sand-beds of the river and splashing through the 
 water. There was not the slightest danger to be 
 feared from them, for they are the greatest cowards 
 on the prairie. 
 
 In respect to the human wolves in our neighbor- 
 hood we felt much less at our ease. We seldom 
 erected our tent except in bad weather, and that 
 night each man spread his buffalo-robe upon the 
 ground, with his loaded rifle laid at his side or 
 clasped in his arms. Our horses were picketed so 
 close around us that one of them repeatedly stepped 
 over me as I lay. We were not in the habit of 
 placing a guard, but every man that night was 
 anxious and watchful ; there was little sound sleep- 
 ing in camp, and some one of the party was on his 
 feet during the greater part of the time. For my- 
 self, I lay alternately waking and dozing until mid- 
 night. Tete Rouge was reposing close to the river- 
 bank, and about this time, when half-asleep and 
 hn,lf-awake, I was conscious that he shifted his posi- 
 tion and crept on all-fours under the cart. Soon 
 after I fell into a sound sleep, from which I was 
 aroused by a hand shaking me by the shoulder. 
 Looking up, I saw Tete Rouge stooping over me 
 with his face quite pale and his eyes dilated to their 
 utmost expansion. 
 
 "What's the matter?" said I. 
 
 Tete Rouge declared that as he lay on the river- 
 
356 THE OREGON TRAIL. 
 
 bank something caught his eye which excited his 
 suspicions. So, creeping under the cart for safety's 
 sake, he sat there and watched, when he saw two 
 Indians, wrapped in white robes, creep up the bank, 
 seize upon two horses, and lead them off. He 
 looked so frightened and told his story in such a 
 disconnected manner that I did not believe him, 
 and was unwilling to alarm the party. Still it might 
 be true, and in that case the matter required instant 
 attention. There would be no time for examination, 
 and so directing Tete Rouge to show me which way 
 the Indians had gone, I took my rifle, in obedience 
 to a thoughtless impulse, and left the camp. I fol- 
 lowed the river back for two or three hundred yards, 
 listening and looking anxiously on every side. In 
 the dark prairie on the right I could discern nothing 
 to excite alarm ; and in the dusky bed of the river 
 a wolf was bounding along in a manner which no 
 Indian could imitate. I returned to the camp, and 
 when within sight of it saw that the whole party was 
 aroused. Shaw called out to me that he had counted 
 the horses, and that every one of them was in his 
 place. Tete Rouge, being examined as to what he 
 had seen, only repeated his former story with many 
 asseverations, and insisted that two horses were cer- 
 tainly carried off. At this Jim Gurney declared that 
 he was crazy ; Tete Rouge indignantly denied the 
 charge, on which Jim appealed to us. As we 
 declined to give our judgment on so delicate a mat- 
 ter, the dispute grew hot between Tete Rouge and 
 his accuser, until he was directed to go to bed and 
 not alarm the camp again if he saw the whole 
 Arapahoe village coming. 
 
CHAPTER XXIV. 
 
 THE CHASE. 
 
 " Mightiest of all the beasts of chase, 
 That roam in woody Caledon, 
 Crashing the forest in his race, 
 
 The mountain Bull comes thundering on." 
 
 Cadyow Castle. 
 
 The country before us was now thronged with 
 buffalo, and a sketch of the manner of hunting 
 them will not be out of place. There are two 
 methods commonly practised — "running" and 
 "approaching." The chase on horseback, which 
 goes by the name of "running," is the more vio- 
 lent and dashing mode of the two. Indeed, of all 
 American wild sports this is the wildest. Once 
 among the buffalo, the hunter, unless long use has 
 made him familiar with the situation, dashes for- 
 ward in utter recklessness and self-abandonment. 
 He thinks of nothing, cares for nothing, but the 
 game ; his mind is stimulated to the highest pitch, 
 yet intensely concentrated on one object. In the 
 midst of the flying herd, where the uproar and the 
 dust are thickest, it never wavers for a moment ; he 
 drops the rein and abandons his horse to his furious 
 career ; he levels his gun, the report sounds faint 
 amid the thunder of the buffalo ; and when his 
 wounded enemy leaps in vain fury upon him, his 
 heart thrills with a feeling like the fierce delight of 
 the battlefield. A practised and skilful hunter, well 
 mounted, will sometimes kill five or six cows in a 
 single chase, loading his gun again and again as 
 his horse rushes through the tumult. An exploit 
 like this is quite beyond the capacities of a novice. 
 
 357 
 
358 THE OREGON TRAIL. 
 
 In attacking a small band of buffalo, or in sepa- 
 rating a single animal from the herd and assailing it 
 apart from the rest, there is less excitement and less 
 danger. With a bold and well-trained horse the 
 hunter may ride so close to the buffalo that, as they 
 gallop side by side, he may reach over and touch 
 him with his hand ; nor is there much danger in 
 this as long as the buffalo's strength and breath 
 continue unabated ; but when he becomes tired and 
 can no longer run with ease, when his tongue lolls 
 out and the foam flies from his jaws, then the hunter 
 had better keep a more respectful distance ; the 
 distressed brute may turn upon him at any instant ; 
 and especially at the moment when he fires his gun. 
 The wounded buffalo springs at his enemy ; the 
 horse leaps violently aside ; and then the hunter 
 has need of a tenacious seat in the saddle, for if he 
 is thrown to the ground there is no hope for him. 
 When he sees his attack defeated the buffalo re- 
 sumes his flight, but if the shot be well directed he 
 soon stops ; for a few moments he stands still, then 
 totters and falls heavily upon the prairie. 
 
 The chief difficulty in running buffalo, as it seems 
 to me, is that of loading the gun or pistol at full 
 gallop. Many hunters, for convenience' sake, carry 
 three or four bullets in the mouth ; the powder is 
 poured down the muzzle of the piece, the bullet 
 dropped in after it, the stock struck hard upon the 
 pommel of the saddle, and the work is done. The 
 danger of this method is obvious. Should the blow 
 on the pommel fail to send the bullet home, or 
 should the latter, in the act of aiming, start from its 
 place and roll toward the muzzle, the gun would 
 probably burst in discharging. Many a shattered 
 hand and worse casualties besides have been the 
 result of such an accident. To obviate it, some 
 hunters make use of a ramrod, usually hung by a 
 
THE CHASE. 359 
 
 string from the neck, but this materially increases 
 the difficulty of loading. The bows and arrows 
 which the Indians use in running buffalo have many 
 advantages over fire-arms, and even white men 
 occasionally employ them. 
 
 The danger of the chase arises not so much from 
 the onset of the wounded animal as from the nature 
 of the ground over which the hunter must ride. 
 The prairie does not always present a smooth, level, 
 and uniform surface ; very often it is broken with 
 hills and hollows, intersected by ravines, and in the 
 remoter parts studded by the stiff wild-sage bushes. 
 The most formidable obstructions, however, are the 
 burrows of wild animals — wolves, badgers, and par- 
 ticularly prairie-dogs — with whose holes the ground 
 for a very great extent is frequently honey-combed. 
 In the blindness of the chase the hunter rushes over 
 it unconscious of danger ; his horse, at full career, 
 thrusts his leg deep into one of the burrows ; the 
 bone snaps, the rider is hurled forward to the ground 
 and probably killed. Yet, accidents in buffalo run- 
 ning happen less frequently than one would sup- 
 pose ; in the recklessness of the chase the hunter 
 enjoys all the impunity of a drunken man, and may 
 ride in safety over the gullies and declivities, where, 
 should he attempt to pass in his sober senses, he 
 would infallibly break his neck. 
 
 The method of "approaching," being practised 
 on foot, has many advantages over that of ' ' run- 
 ning " ; in the former, one neither breaks down his 
 horse nor endangers his own life ; instead of yield- 
 ing to excitement, he must be <:ool, collected, 
 and watchful ; he must understand the buffalo, 
 observe the features of the country and the course 
 of the wind, and be well skilled, moreover, in using 
 the rifle. The buffalo are strange animals ; some- 
 times they are so stupid and infatuated that a man 
 
360 THE OREGON TRAIL, 
 
 may walk up to them in full sight on the open 
 prairie, and even shoot several of their number 
 before the rest will think it necessary to retreat. 
 Again, at another moment, they will be so shy and 
 •wary that in order to approach them the utmost 
 skill, experience, and judgment are necessary. 
 Kit Carson, I believe, stands pre-eminent in running 
 buffalo ; in approaching, no man living can bear 
 away the palm from Henry Chatillon. 
 
 To resume the story. After Tete Rouge had 
 alarmed the camp, no further disturbance occurred 
 during the night. The Arapahoes did not attempt 
 mischief, or if they did the wakefulness of the party 
 deterred them from effecting their purpose. The 
 next day was one of activity and excitement, for 
 about ten o'clock the man in advance shouted the 
 gladdening cry of buffalo ! buffalo ! and in the hollow 
 of the prairie just below us, a band of bulls were 
 grazing. The temptation was irresistible, and Shaw 
 and I rode down upon them. We were badly 
 mounted on our travelling horses, but by hard lash- 
 ing we overtook them, and Shaw, running alongside 
 of a bull, shot into him both balls of his double- 
 barrelled gun. Looking around as I galloped past 
 I saw the bull in his mortal fury rushing again and 
 again upon his antagonist, whose horse constantly 
 leaped aside, and avoided the onset. My chase 
 was more protracted, but at length I ran close to 
 the bull and killed him with my pistols. Cutting off 
 the tails of our victims by way of trophy, we re- 
 joined the party in about a quarter of an hour after 
 we left it. Again and again that morning rang out 
 the same welcome cry of btffalo ! buffalo ! Every 
 few moments, in the broad meadows along the river, 
 we would see bands of bulls, who, raising their 
 shaggy heads, would gaze in stupid amazement at 
 the approaching horsemen, and then breaking into 
 
THE CHASE. 36 1 
 
 a clumsy gallop, would file off in a long line across 
 the trail in front, toward the rising prairie on the 
 left. At noon the whole plain before us was alive 
 with thousands of buffalo — bulls, cows, and calves — 
 all moving rapidly as we drew near ; and far-off 
 beyond the river the swelling prairie was darkened 
 with them to the very horizon. The party was in 
 gayer spirits than ever. We stopped for a " noon- 
 ing " near a grove of trees by the river-side. 
 
 ' ' Tongues and hump-ribs to-morrow, ' ' said Shaw, 
 looking with contempt at the venison steaks which 
 Delorier placed before us. Our meal finished, we 
 lay down under a temporary awning to sleep. A 
 shout from Henry Chatillon aroused us, and we saw 
 him standing on the cart-wheel, stretching his tall 
 figure to its full height while he looked toward the 
 prairie beyond the river. Following the direction 
 of his eyes, we could clearly distinguish a large 
 dark object, like the black shadow of a cloud, 
 passing rapidly over swell after swell of the distant 
 plain ; behind it followed another of similar appear- 
 ance, though smaller. Its motion was more rapid, 
 and it drew closer and closer to the first. It was the 
 hunters of the Arapahoe camp pursuing a band of 
 buffalo. Shaw and I hastily caught and saddled 
 our best horses, and went plunging through sand 
 and water to the farther bank. We were too late. 
 The hunters had already mingled with the herd, 
 and the work of slaughter was nearly over. When 
 we reached the ground we found it strewn far and 
 near with numberless black carcasses, while the 
 remnants of the herd, scattered in all directions, were 
 flying away in terror, and the Indians still rushing 
 in pursuit. Many of the hunters, however, remained 
 upon the spot, and among the rest was our yester- 
 day's acquaintance, the chief of the village. He 
 had alighted by the side of a cow, into which he 
 
362 THE OREGON TRAIL. 
 
 had shot five or six arrows, and his squaw, who had 
 followed him on horseback to the hunt, was giving 
 him a draught of water out of a canteen, purchased 
 or plundered from some volunteer soldier. Re- 
 crossing the river, we overtook the party, who were 
 already on their way. 
 
 We had scarcely gone a mile when an imposing 
 spectacle presented itself. From the river-bank on 
 the right, away over the swelling prairie on the left, 
 and in front as far as we could see, extended one 
 vast host of buffalo. The outskirts of the herd 
 were within a quarter of a mile. In many parts 
 they were crowded so densely together that in the 
 distance their rounded backs presented a surface of 
 uniform blackness ; but elsewhere they were more 
 scattered, and from amid the multitude rose little col- 
 umns of dust where the buffalo were rolling on the 
 ground. Here and there a great confusion was per- 
 ceptible, where a battle was going forward among the 
 bulls. We could distinctly see them rushing against 
 each other, and hear the clattering of their horns and 
 their hoarse bellowing. Shaw was riding at some 
 distance in advance with Henry Chatillon. I saw 
 him stop and draw the leather covering from his 
 gun. Indeed, with such a sight before us, but one 
 thing could be thought of. That morning I had 
 used pistols in the chase. I had now a mind to try 
 the virtue of a gun. Delorier had one, and I rode 
 up to the side of the cart ; there he sat under the 
 white covering, biting his pipe between his teeth and 
 grinning with excitement. 
 
 " Lend me your gun, Delorier," said I. 
 
 " Oui, Monsieur, oui," said Delorier, tugging 
 with might and main to stop the mule, which seemed 
 obstinately bent on going forward. Then everything 
 but his moccasons disappeared as he crawled into 
 the cart and pulled at the gun to extricate it. 
 
THE CHASE. 363 
 
 "Is it loaded ?" I asked. 
 
 " Oui, bien charge, you'll kill, mon bourgeois; 
 yes, you'll kill — c'est un bon fusil." 
 
 I handed him my rifle and rode forward to Shaw. 
 
 "Are you ready ?" he asked. 
 
 " Come on," said I. 
 
 "Keep down that hollow," said Henry, "and 
 then they won't see you till you get close to them." 
 
 The hollow was a kind of ravine, very wide and 
 shallow ; it ran obliquely toward the buffalo, and 
 we rode at a canter along the bottom until it became 
 too shallow ; when we bent close to our horses' 
 necks, and then finding that it could no longer con- 
 ceal us, came out of it and rode directly toward the 
 herd. It was within gunshot ; before its outskirts 
 numerous grizzly old bulls were scattered, holding 
 guard over their females. They glared at us in 
 anger and astonishment, walked toward us a few 
 yards, and then turning slowly around retreated at a 
 trot, which afterward broke into a clumsy gallop. 
 In an instant the main body caught the alarm. The 
 buffalo began to crowd away from the point toward 
 which we were approaching, and a gap was opened 
 in the side of the herd. We entered it, still re- 
 straining our excited horses. Every instant the 
 tumult was thickening. The buffalo, pressing to- 
 gether in large bodies, crowded away from us on 
 every hand. In front and on either side we could 
 see dark columns and masses, half-hidden by clouds 
 of dust, rushing along in terror and confusion, and 
 hear the tramp and clattering of ten thousand hoofs. 
 That countless multitude of powerful brutes, igno- 
 rant of their own strength, were flying in a panic 
 from the approach of two feeble horsemen. To 
 remain quiet longer was impossible. 
 
 "Take that band on the left," said Shaw ; "I'll 
 take these in front. 
 
364 THE OREGON TRAIL. 
 
 He sprang off, and I saw no more of him. A 
 heavy Indian whip was fastened by a band to my 
 wrist ; I swung it into the air and lashed my horse's 
 flank with all the strength of my arm. Away she 
 darted, stretching close to the ground. I could see 
 nothing but a cloud of dust before me, but I knew 
 that it concealed a band of many hundreds of buf- 
 falo. In a moment I was in the midst of the cloud, 
 half-suffocated by the dust and stunned by the tram- 
 pling of the flying herd ; but 1 was drunk with the 
 chase and cared for nothing but the buffalo. Very 
 soon a long dark mass became visible, looming 
 through the dust ; then I could distinguish each 
 bulky carcass, the hoofs flying out beneath, the 
 short tails held rigidly erect. In a moment I was 
 so close that I could have touched them with my 
 gun. Suddenly, to my utter amazement, the hoofs 
 were jerked upward, the tails flourished in the air, 
 and amid a cloud of dust the buffalo seemed to sink 
 into the earth before me. One vivid impression of 
 that instant remains upon my mind. I remember 
 looking down upon the backs of several buffalo 
 dimly visible through the dust. We had run un- 
 awares upon a ravine. At that moment I was not 
 the most accurate judge of depth and width, but 
 when I passed it on my return, I found it about 
 twelve feet deep and not quite twice as wide at the 
 bottom. It was impossible to stop ; I would have 
 done so gladly if I could ; so, half-sliding, half- 
 plunging, down went the little mare. I believe she 
 came down on her knees in the loose sand at the 
 bottom ; I was pitched forward violently against her 
 neck and nearly thrown over her head among the 
 buffalo, who, amid dust and confusion, came tum- 
 bling in all around. The mare was on her feet in 
 an instant, and scrambling like a cat up the opposite 
 side. I thouR-ht for a moment that she would have 
 
THE CHASE. 365 
 
 fallen back and crushed me, but with a violent 
 effort she clambered out and gained the hard prairie 
 above. Glancing back I saw the huge head of a 
 bull clinging, as it were, by the forefeet at the edge 
 of the dusty gulf. At length I was fairly among the 
 buffalo. They were less densely crowded than be- 
 fore, and I could see nothing but bulls, who always 
 run at the rear of a herd. As I passed amid them 
 they would lower their heads, and turning as they 
 ran, attempt to gore my horse ; but as they were 
 already at full speed there was no force in their 
 onset, and as Pauline ran faster than they, they 
 were always thrown behind her in the effort. I soon 
 began to distinguish cows amid the throng. One 
 just in front of me seemed to my liking, and I 
 pushed close to her side. Dropping the reins, I 
 fired, holding the muzzle of the gun within a foot of 
 her shoulder. Quick as lightning she sprang at 
 Pauline ; the little mare dodged the attack, and I 
 lost sight of the wounded animal amid the tumult- 
 uous crowd. Immediately after I selected another, 
 and urging forward Pauline, shot into her both pis- 
 tols in succession. For a while I kept her in view, 
 but in attempting to load my gun, lost sight of her 
 also in the confusion. Believing her to be mortally 
 wounded and unable to keep up with the herd, I 
 checked my horse. The crowd rushed onward. 
 The dust and tumult passed away, and on the prai- 
 rie, far behind the rest, I saw a solitary buffalo gal- 
 loping heavily. In a moment I and my victim 
 were running side by side. My firearms were all 
 empty, and I had in my pouch nothing but rifle- 
 bullets, too large for the pistols and too small for the 
 gun. I loaded the latter, however, but as often as I 
 levelled it to fire, the little bullets would roll out of 
 the muzzle and the gun returned only a faint report 
 like a squib, as the powder harmlessly exploded. I 
 
366 THE OREGON TRAIL. 
 
 galloped in front of the buffalo and attempted to 
 turn her back ; but her eyes glared, her mane 
 bristled, and lowering her head, she rushed at me 
 with astonishing fierceness and activity. Again and 
 again I rode before her, and again and again she 
 repeated her furious charge. But little Pauline was 
 in her element. She dodged her enemy at every 
 rush, until at length the buffalo stood still, exhausted 
 with her own efforts ; she panted, and her tongue 
 hung lolling from her jaws. 
 
 Riding to a little distance, I alighted, thinking to 
 gather a handful of dry grass to serve the purpose 
 of wadding, and load the gun at my leisure. No 
 sooner were my feet on the ground than the buffalo 
 came bounding in such a rage toward me that I 
 jumped back again into the saddle with all possible 
 dispatch. After waiting a few minutes more, I 
 made an attempt to ride up and stab her with my 
 knife ; but the experiment proved such as no wise 
 man would repeat. At length, bethinking me of 
 the fringes at the seams of my buckskin pantaloons, 
 I jerked off a few of them, and reloading the gun, 
 forced them down the barrel to keep the bullet in 
 its place ; then approaching, I shot the wounded 
 buffalo through the heart. Sinking to her knees, 
 she rolled over lifeless on the prairie. To m.y aston- 
 ishment I found that instead of a fat cow I had 
 been slaughtering a stout yearling bull. No longer 
 wondering at the fierceness he had shown, I opened 
 his throat, and cutting out his tongue, tied it at the 
 back of my saddle. My mistake was one which a 
 more experienced eye than mine might easily make 
 in the dust and confusion of such a chase. 
 
 Then for the first time I had leisure to look at the 
 scene around me. The prairie in front was dark- 
 ened with the retreating multitude, and on the other 
 hand the buffalo came filing up in endless unbroken 
 
THE BUFFALO-CAMP. 367 
 
 columns from the low plains upon the river. The 
 Arkansas was three or four miles distant. I turned 
 and moved slowly toward it. A long time passed 
 before, far down in the distance, I distinguished the 
 white covering of the cart and the little black specks 
 of horsemen before and behind it. Drawing near, I 
 recognized Shaw's elegant tunic, the red flannel 
 shirt conspicuous far off. I overtook the party, and 
 asked him what success he had met with. He had 
 assailed a fat cow, shot her with two bullets, and 
 mortally wounded her. But neither of us were pre- 
 pared for the chase that afternoon, and Shaw, like 
 myself, had no spare bullets in his pouch ; so he 
 abandoned the disabled animal to Henry Chatillon, 
 who followed, dispatched her with his rifle, and 
 loaded his horse with her meat. 
 
 We encamped close to the river. The night was 
 dark, and as we lay down we could hear mingled 
 with the bowlings of wolves the hoarse bellowing of 
 the buffalo, like the ocean beating upon a distant 
 coast. 
 
 CHAPTER XXV. 
 
 THE BUFFALO-CAMP. 
 
 " In pastures measureless as air, 
 The bison is my noble game." — BRYANT. 
 
 No one in the camp was more active than Jim 
 Gurney, and no one half so lazy as Ellis. Between 
 these two there was a great antipathy. Ellis never 
 stirred in the morning until he was compelled to, 
 but Jim was always on his feet before daybreak ; 
 and this morning, as usual, the sound of his voice 
 awakened the party. 
 
368 THE OREGON TRAIL. 
 
 "Get up, you booby ! up with you now, you're 
 fit for nothing but eating and sleeping. Stop your 
 grumbhng and come out of that buffalo-robe or I'll 
 pull it off for you." 
 
 Jim's words were interspersed with numerous 
 expletives, which gave them great additional effect. 
 Ellis drawled out something in a nasal tone from 
 among the folds of his buffalo-robe ; then slowly 
 disengaged himself, rose into a sitting-posture, 
 stretched his long arms, yawned hideously, and, 
 finally raising his tall person erect, stood staring 
 around him to all the four quarters of the horizon. 
 Delorier's fire was soon blazing, and the horses and 
 mules, loosened from their pickets, were feeding on 
 the neighboring meadow. When we sat down to 
 breakfast the prairie was still in the dusky light of 
 morning ; and as the sun rose we were m.ounted 
 and on our way again. 
 
 " A white buffalo !" exclaimed Munroe. 
 
 "I'll have that fellow," said Shaw, " if I run my 
 horse to death after him." 
 
 He threw the cover of his gun to Delorier and 
 galloped out upon the prairie. 
 
 "Stop, Mr. Shaw, stop !" called out Henry Cha- 
 tillon, "you'll run down your horse for nothing; 
 it's only a white ox." 
 
 But Shaw was already out of hearing. The ox, 
 who had no doubt strayed away from some of the 
 government wagon-trains, was standing beneath 
 s"ome low hills which bounded the plain in the dis- 
 tance. Not far from him a band of veritable buffalo- 
 bulls were grazing ; and startled at Shaw' s approach, 
 they all broke into a run, and went scrambling up 
 the hillsides to gain the high prairie above. One of 
 them in his haste and terror involved himself in a 
 fatal catastrophe. Along the foot of the hills was a 
 narrow strip of deep marshy soil, into which the 
 
THE BUFFALO-CAMP. 369 
 
 bull plunged and hopelessly entangled himself. 
 We all rode up to the spot. The huge carcass was 
 half-sunk in the mud which flowed to his very chin, 
 and his shaggy mane was outspread upon the sur- 
 face. As we came near the bull began to struggle 
 with convulsive strength ; he writhed to and fro, 
 and in the energy of his fright and desperation 
 would lift himself for a moment half out of the 
 slough, w^hile the reluctant mire returned a sucking 
 sound as he strained to drag his limbs from its tena- 
 cious depths. We stimulated his exertions by get- 
 ting behind him and twisting his tail ; nothing 
 would do. There was clearly no hope for him. 
 After every effort his heaving sides were more, 
 deeply imbedded and the mire almost overflowed his 
 nostrils ; he lay still, at length, and looking around at 
 us with a furious eye, seemed to resign himself to 
 his fate. Ellis slowly dismounted, and deliberately 
 levelling his boasted yager, shot the old bull through 
 the heart ; then he lazily climbed back again to his 
 seat, pluming himself, no doubt, on having actually 
 killed a buffalo. That day the invincible yager 
 drew blood for the first and last time during the 
 whole journey. 
 
 The morning was a bright and gay one, and the 
 air so clear that on the farthest horizon the outline 
 of the pale-blue prairie was sharply drawn against 
 the sky. Shaw felt in the mood for hunting ; he 
 rode in advance of the party, and before long we 
 saw a file of bulls galloping at full speed upon a 
 vast green swell of the prairie at some distance in 
 front. Shav/ came scouring along behind them, 
 arrayed in his red shirt, which looked very well in 
 the distance ; he gained fast on the fugitives, and as 
 the foremost bull was disappearing behind the sum- 
 mit of the swell, we saw him in the act of assailing 
 the hindmost ; a smoke sprang from the muzzle of 
 
 24 
 
370 THE OREGON TRAIL. 
 
 his gun, and floated away before the wind Hke a 
 httle white cloud ; the bull turned upon him, and 
 just then the rising ground concealed them both 
 from view. 
 
 We were moving forward until about noon, when 
 we stopped by the side of the Arkansas. At that 
 moment Shaw appeared riding slowly down the side 
 of a distant hill ; his horse was tired and jaded, 
 and when he threw his saddle upon the ground, I 
 observed that the tails of two bulls were dangling 
 behind it. No sooner were the horses turned loose 
 to feed than Henry, asking Munroe to go with him, 
 took his rifle and walked quietly away. Shaw, 
 Tete Rouge, and I sat down by the side of the cart 
 to discuss the dinner which Delorier placed before 
 us ; we had scarcely finished when we saw Munroe 
 walking toward us along the river-bank. Henry, 
 he said, had killed four fat cows, and had sent him 
 back for horses to bring in the meat. Shaw took a 
 horse for himself and another for Henry, and he 
 and Munroe left the camp together. After a short 
 absence all three of them came back, their horses 
 loaded with the choicest parts of the meat ; we kept 
 two of the cows for ourselves and gave the others to 
 Munroe and his companions. Delorier seated him- 
 self on the grass before the pile of meat, and worked 
 industriously for some time to cut it into thin broad 
 sheets for drying. This is no easy matter, but 
 Delorier had all the skill of an Indian squaw. 
 Long before night cords of raw-hide were stretched 
 around the camp, and the meat was hung upon 
 them to dry in the sunshine and pure air of the 
 prairie. Our California companions were less suc- 
 cessful at the work ; but they accomplished it after 
 their own fashion, and their side of the camp was 
 soon garnished in the same manner as our own. 
 
 We meant to remain at this place long enough to 
 
THE BUFFALO-CAMP. 37 1 
 
 prepare provisions for our journey to the frontier, 
 which, as we supposed, might occupy about a month. 
 Had the distance been twice as great and the party 
 ten times as large, the unerring rifle of Henry Cha- 
 tillon would have supplied meat enough for the 
 whole within two days ; we were obliged to remain, 
 however, until it should be dry enough for trans- 
 portation ; so we erected our tent and made the 
 other arrangements for a permanent camp. The 
 California men, who had no such shelter, contented 
 themselves with arranging their packs on the grass 
 around their fire. In the meantime we had nothing 
 to do but amuse ourselves. Our tent was within a 
 rod of the river, if the broad sand-beds, with a 
 scanty stream of water coursing here and there 
 along their surface, deserve to be dignified with the 
 name of river. The vast flat plains on either side 
 were almost on a level with the sand-beds, and they 
 were bounded in the distance by low, monotonous 
 hills, parallel to the course of the Arkansas. All 
 was one expanse of grass ; there was no wood in 
 view, except some trees and stunted bushes upon 
 two islands which rose from amid the wet sands of 
 the river. Yet far from being dull and tame, this 
 boundless scene was often a wild and animated 
 one ; for twice a day, at sunrise and at noon, the 
 buffalo came issuing from the hills, slowly advanc- 
 ing in their grave processions to drink at the river. 
 All our amusements were to be at their expense. 
 Except an elephant, I have seen no animal that can 
 surpass a buffalo-bull in size and strength, and the 
 world may be searched in vain to find anything of a 
 more ugly and ferocious aspect. At first sight of 
 him every feeling of sympathy vanishes ; no man 
 who has not experienced it can understand with what 
 keen relish one inflicts his death-wound, with what 
 profound contentment of mind he beholds him fall. 
 
372 THE OREGON TRAIL. 
 
 The cows are much smaller and of a gentler appear- 
 ance, as becomes their sex. While in this camp we 
 forebore to attack them, leaving to Henry Chatillon, 
 who could better judge their fatness and good 
 quality, the task of killing such as we wanted for 
 use ; hwi against the bulls we waged an unrelenting 
 war. Thousands of them might be slaughtered 
 without causing any detriment to the species, for 
 their numbers greatly exceed those of the cows ; it 
 is the hides of the latter alone which are used for 
 the purpose of commerce and for making the lodges 
 of the Indians ; and the destruction among them is 
 therefore altogether disproportioned. 
 
 Our horses were tired, and we now usually hunted 
 on foot. The wide, flat sand-beds of the Arkansas, 
 as the reader will remember, lay close by the side 
 of our camp. Vv^hile we were lying on the grass 
 after dinner, smoking, conversing, or laughing at 
 Tete Rouge, one of us would look up and observe, 
 far out on the plains beyond the river, certain black 
 objects slowly approaching. He would inhale a 
 parting whiff from the pipe, then rising lazily, take 
 his rifle, which leaned against the cart, throv/ 
 over his shoulder the strap of his pouch and pow- 
 der-horn, and with his moccasons in his hand, walk 
 quietly across the sand toward the opposite side of 
 the river. This was very easy ; for though the 
 sands were about a quarter of a mile wide, the 
 water was nowhere more than two feet deep. The 
 farther bank was about four or five feet high, and 
 quite perpendicular, being cut away by the water in 
 spring. Tall grass grew along its edge. Putting it 
 aside with his hand, and cautiously looking through 
 it, the hunter can discern the huge shaggy back of 
 the buffalo slowly swaying to and fro, as, with his 
 clumsy, swinging gait, he advances toward the 
 water. The buffalo have regular paths by which 
 
THE BUFFALO-CAMP. 373 
 
 they come down to drink. Seeing at a glance along 
 which of these his intended victim is moving, the 
 hunter crouches under the bank within fifteen or 
 twenty yards, it may be, of the point where the 
 path enters the river. Here he sits down quietly on 
 the sand. Listening intently, he hears the heavy 
 monotonous tread of the approaching bull. The 
 moment after, he sees a motion among the long 
 weeds and grass just at the spot where the path is 
 channelled through the bank. An enormous black 
 head is thrust out, the horns just visible amid the 
 mass of tangled mane. Half-sliding, half-plunging, 
 down comes the buffalo upon the river-bed below. 
 He steps out in full sight upon the sands. Just 
 before him a runnel of water is gliding, and he 
 bends his head to drink. You may hear the water 
 as it gurgles down his capacious throat. He raises 
 his head, and the drops trickle from his wet beard. 
 He stands with an air of stupid abstraction, uncon- 
 scious of the lurking danger. Noiselessly the hunter 
 cocks his rifle. As he sits upon the sand, his knee 
 is raised, and his elbow rests upon it, that he may 
 level his heavy weapon with a steadier aim. The 
 stock is at his shoulder ; his eye ranges along the 
 barrel. Still he is in no haste to fire. The bull, 
 with slow deliberation, begins his march over the 
 sands to the other side. He advances his fore-leg, 
 and exposes to view a small spot, denuded of hair, 
 just behind the point of his shoulder ; upon this the 
 hunter brings the sight of his rifle to bear ; lightly 
 and delicately his finger presses upon the hair- 
 trigger. Quick as thought the spiteful crack of the 
 rifle responds to his slight touch, and instantly in 
 the middle of the bare spot appears a small red dot. 
 The buffalo shivers ; death has overtaken him, he 
 cannot tell from whence ; still he does not fall, but 
 walks heavily forward, as if nothing had happened. 
 
374 ^-^^ OREGON TRAIL. 
 
 Yet before he has advanced far out upon the sand, 
 you see him stop ; he totters ; his knees bend under 
 him, and his head sinks forward to the ground. 
 Then his whole vast bulk sways to one side ; he 
 rolls over on the sand, and dies with a scarcely per- 
 ceptible struggle. 
 
 Waylaying the buffalo in this manner, and shoot- 
 ing them as they come to water, is the easiest and 
 laziest method of hunting them. They may also 
 be approached by crawling up ravines, or behind 
 hills, or even over the open prairie. This is often 
 surprisingly easy ; but at other times it requires the 
 utmost skill of the most experienced hunter. Henry 
 Chatillon was a man of extraordinary strength and 
 hardihood ; but 1 have seen him return to camp 
 quite exhausted with his efforts, his limbs scratched 
 and wounded, and his buckskin dress stuck full of 
 the thorns of the prickly-pear, among which he had 
 been crawling. Sometimes he would lay flat upon 
 his face, and drag himself along in this position for 
 many rods together. 
 
 On the second day of our stay at this place, 
 Henry went out for an afternoon hunt. Shaw and 
 I remained in camp, until, observing some bulls ap- 
 proaching the water upon the other side of the river, 
 we crossed over to attack them. They were so 
 near, however, that before we could get under cover 
 of the bank, our appearance as we walked over the 
 sands alarmed them. Turning around before coming 
 within gunshot, they began to move off to the right, 
 in a direction parallel to the river. I climbed up 
 the bank and ran after them. They were walking 
 swiftly, and before I could come within gunshot dis- 
 tance, they slowdy wheeled about and faced toward 
 me. Before they had turned far enough to see me 
 1 had fallen flat on my face. For a moment they 
 stood and stared at the strange object upon the 
 
THE BUFFALO-CAMP. 375 
 
 grass ; then turning away, again they walked on as 
 before ; and I, rising immediately, ran once mbre 
 in pursuit. Again they wheeled about, and again I 
 fell prostrate. Repeating this three or four times, I 
 came at length within a hundred yards of the fugi- 
 tives, and as 1 saw them turning again I sat down 
 and levelled my rifle. The one in the centre was 
 the largest I had ever seen. I shot him behind 
 the shoulder. His two companions ran off. He 
 attempted to follow, but soon came to a stand, and 
 at length lay down as quietly as an ox chewing the 
 cud. Cautiously approaching him, I saw by his 
 dull and jelly-hke eye that he was dead. 
 
 When I began the chase the prairie was almost 
 tenantless ; but a great multitude of buffalo had 
 suddenly thronged upon it, and looking up I saw 
 within fifty rods a heavy, dark column stretching to 
 the right and left as far as I could see. I walked 
 toward them. My approach did not alarm them in 
 the least. The column itself consisted almost en- 
 tirely of cows and calves, but a great many old bulls 
 were ranging about the prairie on its flank, and as I 
 drew near they faced toward me with such a shaggy 
 and ferocious look that I thought it best to proceed 
 no farther. Indeed, I was already within close rifle- 
 shot of the column, and I sat down on the ground 
 to watch their movements. Sometimes the whole 
 would stand still, their heads all facing one way ; 
 then they would trot forward, as if by a common 
 impulse, their hoofs and horns clattering together as 
 they moved. 1 soon began to hear at a distance on 
 the left the sharp reports of a rifle, again and again 
 repeated ; and not long after, dull and heavy sounds 
 succeeded, which I recognized as the familiar voice 
 of Shaw's double-barrelled gun. When Henry's 
 rifle was at work there was always meat to be 
 brought in. I went back across the river for a 
 
3/6 THE OREGON TRAIL. 
 
 horse, and returning, reached the spot where the 
 hunters were standing. The buffalo were visible on 
 the distant prairie. The living had retreated from 
 the ground, but ten or twelve carcasses were scat- 
 tered in various directions. Henry, knife in hand, 
 was stooping over a dead cow, cutting away the best 
 and fattest of the meat. 
 
 When Shaw left me he had walked down for some 
 distance under the river-bank to find another bull. 
 At length he saw the plains covered with the host 
 of buffalo, and soon after heard the crack of Henry's 
 rifle. Ascending the bank, he crawled through the 
 grass, which for a rod or two from the river was 
 very high and rank. He had not crawled far before, 
 to his astonishment, he saw Henry standing erect 
 upon the prairie, almost surrounded by the buffalo. 
 Henry was in his appropriate element. Nelson, on 
 the deck of the "Victory," hardly felt a prouder 
 sense of mastery than he. Quite unconscious that 
 any one was looking at him, he stood at the full 
 height of his tall, strong figure, one hand resting 
 upon his side, and the other arm leaning carelessly 
 on the muzzle of his rifle. His eyes were ranging 
 over the singular assemblage around him. Now 
 and then he would select such a cow as' suited him, 
 level his rifle, and shoot her dead ; then, quietly 
 reloading, he would resume his former position. 
 The buffalo seemed no more to regard his presence 
 than if he were one of themselves ; the bulls were 
 bellowing and butting at each other, or else rolling 
 about in the dust. A group of buffalo would gather 
 about the carcass of a dead cov/, snuffing at her 
 wounds ; and sometimes they would come behind 
 those that had not yet fallen and endeavor to push 
 them from the spot. Now and then some old bull 
 would face toward Henry with an air of stupid 
 amazement, but none seemed inclined to attack or 
 
THE BUFFALO-CAMP. 377 
 
 fly from him. For some time Shaw lay among the 
 grass, looking in surprise at this extraordinary sight ; 
 at length he crawled cautiously forward, and spoke 
 in a low voice to Henry, who told him to rise and 
 come on. Still the buffalo showed no sign of fear ; 
 they remained gathered about their dead com- 
 panions. Henry had already killed as many cows 
 as we wanted for use, and Shaw, kneeling behind 
 one of the carcasses, shot five bulls before the rest 
 thought it necessary to disperse. 
 
 The frequent stupidity and infatuation of the 
 buffalo seems the more remarkable from the con- 
 trast it offers to their wildness and wariness at other 
 times, Henry knew all their peculiarities ; he had 
 studied them as a scholar studies his books, and he 
 derived quite as much pleasure from the occupation. 
 The buffalo were a kind of companions to him, and, 
 as he said, he never felt alone when they were about 
 him. He took great pride in his skill in hunting. 
 Henry was one of the most modest of men ; yet, in 
 the simplicity and frankness of his character, it was 
 quite clear that he looked upon his pre-eminence in 
 this respect as a thing too palpable and well-estab- 
 lished ever to be disputed. But whatever may have 
 been his estimate of his own skill, it was rather 
 below than above that which others placed upon it. 
 The only time that I ever saw a shade of scorn 
 darken his face was when two volunteer soldiers, 
 who had just killed a buffalo for the first time, un- 
 dertook to instruct him as to the best method of 
 "approaching." To borrow an illustration from 
 an opposite side of life, an Eton boy might as well 
 have sought to enlighten Porsons on the formation 
 of a Greek verb, or a Fleet Street shopkeeper to 
 instruct Chesterfield concerning a point of etiquette. 
 Henry always seemed to think that he had a sort 
 of prescriptive right to the buffalo, and to look upon 
 
3/8 THE OREGON TRAIL. 
 
 them as something belonging pecuharly to himself. 
 Nothing excited his indignation so much as any 
 wanton destruction committed among the cows, and 
 in his view shooting a calf was a cardinal sin. 
 
 Henry Chatillon and Tete Rouge were of the 
 same age ; that is, about thirty. Henry was twice 
 as large, and fully six times as strong as Tete Rouge. 
 Henry's face was roughened by winds and storms ; 
 Tete Rouge's was bloated by sherry-cobblers and 
 brandy-toddy. Henry talked of Indians and buffalo ; 
 Tete Rouge of theatres and oyster-cellars. Henry 
 had led a life of hardship and privation ; Tete Rouge 
 never had a whim which he would not gratify at the 
 first moment he was able. Henry, moreover, was 
 the most disinterested man I ever saw ; while Tete 
 Rouge, though equally good-natured in his way, cared 
 for nobody but himself. Yet we would not have lost 
 him on any account ; he admirably served the pur- 
 pose of a jester in a feudal castle ; our camp would 
 have been lifeless without him. For the past week 
 he had fattened in a most amazing manner ; and, in- 
 deed, this was not at all surprising, since his appetite 
 was most inordinate. He was eating from morning 
 till night ; half the time he would be at work cook- 
 ing some private repast for himself, and he paid a 
 visit to the coffee-pot eight or ten times a day. His 
 rueful and disconsolate face became jovial and rubi- 
 cund, his eyes stood out like a lobster's, and his 
 spirits, which before were sunk to the depths of 
 despondency, were now elated in proportion ; all 
 day he was singing, whistling, laughing, and telling 
 stories. Being mortally afraid of Jim Gurney, he 
 kept close in the neighborhood of our tent. As he 
 had seen an abundance of low, dissipated life, and 
 had a considerable fund of humor, his anecdotes 
 were extremely amusing, especially since he never 
 hesitated to place himself in a ludicrous point of 
 
THE BUFFALO-CAMP. 379 
 
 view, provided lie could raise a laugh by doing so. 
 Tete Rouge, however, was sometimes rather trouble- 
 some ; he had an inveterate habit of pilfering pro- 
 visions at all times of the day. He set ridicule at 
 utter defiance ; and being without a particle of self- 
 respect, he would never have given over his tricks, 
 even if they had drawn upon him the scorn of the 
 whole party. Now and then, indeed, something 
 worse than laughter fell to his share ; on these occa- 
 sions he would exhibit much contrition, but half an 
 hour after we would generally observe him stealing 
 around to the box at the back of the cart, and slyly 
 making off with the provisions which Delorier had 
 laid by for supper. He was very fond of smoking, 
 but having no tobacco of his own, we used to pro- 
 vide him with as much as he wanted, a small piece 
 at a time. At first we gave him half a pound to- 
 gether ; but this experiment proved an entire failure, 
 for he invariably lost not only the tobacco, but the 
 knife intrusted to him for cutting it, and a few 
 minutes after he would come to us with many apolo- 
 gies and beg for more. 
 
 We had been two days at this camp, and some 
 of the meat Avas nearly fit for transportation, when 
 a storm came suddenly upon us. About sunset the 
 whole sky grev*^ as black as ink, and the long grass 
 at the river's edge bent and rose mournfully with 
 the first gusts of the approaching hurricane. Mun- 
 roe and his two companions brought their guns 
 and placed them under cover of our tent. Having 
 no shelter for themselves, they built a fire of drift- 
 wood that might have defied a cataract, and wrapped 
 in their buffalo-robes, sat on the ground around it to 
 bide the fury of the storm. Delorier ensconced 
 himself under the cover of the cart. Shaw and I, 
 together with Henry and Tete Rouge, crowded into 
 the little tent ; but, first of all, the dried meat was 
 
380 THE OREGON TRAIL. 
 
 piled together and well protected by buffalo-robes 
 pinned firmly to the ground. About nine o'clock 
 the storm broke, amid absolute darkness ; it blew a 
 gale, and torrents of rain roared over the boundless 
 expanse of open prairie. Our tent was filled with 
 mist and spray beating through the canvas, and 
 saturating everything within. We could only dis- 
 tinguish each other at short intervals by the dazzling 
 flash of lightning, which displayed the whole waste 
 around us with its momentary glare. We had our 
 fears for the tent ; but for an hour or two it stood 
 fast, until at length the cap gave way before a furi- 
 ous blast ; the pole tore through the top, and in an 
 instant we were half-suffocated by the cold and 
 dripping folds of the canvas, which fell down upon 
 us. Seizing upon our guns, we placed them erect, 
 in order to lift the saturated cloth above our heads. 
 In this agreeable situation, involved among wet 
 blankets and buffalo-robes, we spent several hours 
 of the night, during v/hich the storm would not 
 abate for a moment, but pelted down above our 
 heads with merciless fury. Before long the ground 
 beneath us became soaked with moisture, and the 
 water gathered there in a pool two or three inches 
 deep ; so that for a considerable part of the night 
 we were partially immersed in a cold bath. In 
 spite of all this, Tete Rouge's flow of spirits did not 
 desert him for an instant ; he laughed, whistled, 
 and sung in defiance of the storm, and that night 
 he paid off the long arrears of ridicule which he 
 owed us. While we lay in silence, enduring the 
 infliction with what philosophy we could muster, 
 Tete Rouge, who was intoxicated with animal spirits, 
 was cracking jokes at our expense by the hour 
 together. At about three o'clock in the morning, 
 ' ' preferring the tyranny of the open night ' ' to such 
 a wretched shelter, v/e crawled out from beneath the 
 
THE BUFFALO-CAMP. 38 1 
 
 fallen canvas. The wind had abated, but the rain 
 fell steadily. The fire of the California men still 
 blazed amid the darkness, and we joined them as 
 they sat around it. We made ready some hot coffee 
 by way of refreshment ; but when some of the 
 party sought to replenish their cups, it was found 
 that Tete Rouge, having disposed of his own share, 
 had privately abstracted the coffee-pot and drank 
 up the rest of the contents out of the spout. 
 
 In the morning, to our great joy, an unclouded 
 sun rose upon the prairie. We presented rather a 
 laughable appearance, for the cold and clammy 
 buckskin, saturated with water, clung fast to our 
 limbs ; the light wind and warm sunshine soon 
 dried them again, and then we were all incased in 
 armor of intolerable rigidity. Roaming all day 
 over the prairie and shooting two or three bulls was 
 scarcely enough to restore the stiffened leather to 
 its usual pliancy. 
 
 Besides Henry Chatillon, Shaw and I were the 
 only hunters in the party. Munroe this morning 
 made an attempt to run a buffalo, but his horse 
 could not come up to the game. Shaw went out 
 with him, and, being better mounted, soon found 
 himself in the midst of the herd. Seeing nothing 
 but cows and calves around him, he checked his 
 horse. An old bull came galloping on the open 
 prairie at some distance behind, and turning, Shaw 
 rode across his path, levelling his gun as he passed, 
 and shooting him through the shoulder into the 
 heart. The heavy bullets of Shaw's double-bar- 
 relled gun made wild work wherever they struck. 
 
 A great flock of buzzards were usually soaring 
 about a few trees that stood on the island just below 
 our camp. Throughout the whole of yesterday we 
 had noticed an eagle among them ; to-day he was 
 still there ; and Tete Rouge, declaring that he would 
 
382 THE OREGON TRAIL. 
 
 kill the bird of America, borrowed Delorier's gun 
 and set out on his unpatriotic mission. As might 
 have been expected, the eagle suffered no great 
 harm at his hands. He soon returned, saying that 
 he could not find him, but had shot a buzzard 
 instead. Being required to produce the bird in 
 proof of his assertion, he said he believed that he 
 was not quite dead, but he must be hurt, from the 
 swiftness with which he flew off, 
 
 "If you want," said Tete Rouge, "I'll go and 
 get one of his feathers ; I knocked off plenty of 
 them when I shot him." 
 
 Just opposite our camp was another island covered 
 with bushes, and behind it was a deep pool of water, 
 while two or three considerable streams coursed over 
 the sand not far off. I was bathing at this place in 
 the afternoon, when a white wolf, larger than the 
 largest Newfoundland dog, ran out from behind the 
 point of the island, and galloped leisurely over the 
 sand not half a stone's throw distant. I could 
 plainly see his red eyes, and the bristles about his 
 snout ; he was an ugly scoundrel, with a bushy tail, 
 large head, and a most repulsive countenance. 
 Having neither rifle to shoot nor stone to pelt him 
 with, I was looking eagerly after some missile for his 
 benefit, when the report of a gun came from the 
 camp, and the ball threw up the sand just beyond 
 him ; at this he gave a slight jump, and stretched 
 away so swiftly that he soon dwindled into a mere 
 speck on the distant sand-beds. The number of 
 carcasses that by this time were lying about the 
 prairie all around us summoned the wolves from 
 every quarter ; the spot where Shaw and Henry had 
 hunted together soon became their favorite resort, 
 for here about a dozen dead buffalo were fermenting 
 under the hot sun. I often used to go over the 
 river and watch them at their meal ; by lying under 
 
THE BUFFALO-CAMP. 383 
 
 the bank it was easy to get a full view of them. 
 Three different kinds were present : there were the 
 white wolves and the gray wolves, both extremely 
 large, and besides these the small prairie-wolves, 
 not much bigger than spaniels. They would howl 
 and fight in a crowd around a single carcass, yet 
 they were so watchful, and their senses so acute, 
 that I never was able to crawl within a fair shooting- 
 distance ; whenever I attempted it, they would all 
 scatter at once and glide silently away through the 
 tall grass. The air above this spot was always full 
 of buzzards or black vultures ; whenever the wolves 
 left a carcass they would descend upon it, and cover 
 it so densely that a rifle-bullet shot at random among 
 the gormandizing crowd would generally strike down 
 two or three of them. These birds would now be 
 sailing by scores just above our camp, their broad 
 black wings seeming half-transparent as they ex- 
 panded them against the bright sky. The wolves 
 and the buzzards thickened about us with every 
 hour, and two or three eagles 'also came into the 
 feast. I killed a bull within rifle-shot of the camp ; 
 that night the wolves made a fearful howling close 
 at hand, and in the morning the carcass was com- " 
 pletely hollowed out by these voracious feeders. 
 
 After we had remained four days at this camp we 
 prepared to leave it. We had for our own part 
 about five hundred pounds of dried meat, and the 
 California men had prepared some three hundred 
 more ; this consisted of the fattest and choicest 
 parts of eight or nine cows, a very small quantity 
 only being taken from each, and the rest abandoned 
 to the wolves. The pack-animals were laden, the 
 horses were saddled, and the mules harnessed to 
 the cart. Even Tete Rouge was ready at last, and 
 slowly moving from the ground, we resumed our 
 journey eastward. When we had advanced about a 
 
384 THE OREGON TRAIL. 
 
 mile, Shaw missed a valuable hunting-knife and 
 turned back in search of it, thinking that he had left 
 it at the camp. He approached the place cautiously, 
 fearful that Indians might be lurking about, for a 
 deserted camp is dangerous to return to. He saw- 
 no enemy, but the scene was a wild and dreary one ; 
 the prairie was overshadowed by dull, leaden clouds, 
 for the day was dark and gloomy. The ashes of 
 the fires were still smoking by the river-side ; the 
 grass around them was trampled down by men and 
 horses, and strewn with all the litter of a camp. 
 Our departure had been a gathering-signal to the 
 birds and beasts of prey ; Shaw assured me that 
 literally dozens of wolves were prowling about the 
 smouldering fires, while multitudes were roaming 
 over the prairie around ; they all fled as he ap- 
 proached, some running over the sand-beds and 
 some over the grassy plains. The vultures in great 
 clouds were soaring overhead, and the dead bull 
 near the camp was completely blackened by the 
 flock that had alighted upon it ; they flapped their 
 broad wings, and stretched upward their crested 
 heads and long, skinny necks, fearing to remain, 
 yet reluctant to leave their disgusting feast. As he 
 searched about the fires he saw the wolves seated 
 on the distant hills, waiting for his departure. Hav- 
 ing looked in vain for his knife, he mounted again, 
 and left the wolves and the vultures to banquet 
 freely upon the carrion of the camp. 
 
CHAPTER XXVI. 
 
 DOWN THE ARKANSAS. 
 
 " They quitted not their harness bright, 
 Neither by day nor yet by night ; 
 They lay down to rest 
 With corslet laced, 
 Pillowed on buckler cold and hard. 
 They carved at the meal 
 With gloves of steel, 
 And they drank the red wine through the helmet barred." 
 The Lay of the Last Minstrel. 
 
 In the summer of 1846 the wild and lonely banks 
 of the Upper Arkansas beheld, for the first time, 
 the passage of an army. General Kearney, on his 
 march to Santa Fe, adopted this route in preference 
 to the old trail of the Cimarron. When we came 
 down, the main body of the troops had already 
 passed on ; Price's Missouri regiment, however, was 
 still on the way, having left the frontier much later 
 than the rest ; and about this time we began to meet 
 them moving along the trail, one or two companies 
 at a time. No men ever embarked upon a military 
 expedition with a greater love for the work before 
 them than the Missourians ; but if discipline and 
 subordination be the criterion of merit, these soldiers 
 were worthless indeed. Yet, when their exploits 
 have rung through all America, it would be absurd 
 to deny that they w^ere excellent irregular troops. 
 Their victories were gained in the teeth of every 
 established precedent of warfare ; they were owing 
 to a singular combination of military qualities in the 
 men themselves. Without discipline or a spirit of 
 subordination, they knew how to keep their ranks 
 and act as one man. Doniphan' s regiment marched 
 
 386 
 
386 THE OREGON TRAIL. 
 
 through New Mexico more like a band of free com- 
 panions than Hke the paid soldiers of a modern 
 government. When General Taylor complimented 
 Doniphan on his success at Sacramento and else- 
 where, the Colonel's reply very well illustrates the 
 relations which subsisted between the officers and 
 men of his command : 
 
 " I don't know anything of the manoeuvres. The 
 boys kept coming to me to let them charge ; and, 
 when I saw a good opportunity, I told them they 
 might go. They were off like a shot, and that's all 
 I know about it. ' ' 
 
 The backwoods lawyer was better fitted to con- 
 ciliate the good will than to command the obedience 
 of his men. There were many serving under him 
 who, both from character and education, could better 
 have held command than he. 
 
 At the battle of Sacramento his frontiersmen 
 fought under every possible disadvantage. The 
 Mexicans had chosen their own position ; they were 
 drawn up across the valley that led to their native 
 city of Chihuahua ; their whole front was covered 
 by intrenchments and defended by batteries of heavy 
 cannon ; they outnumbered the invaders five to one. 
 An eagle flew over the Americans, and a deep 
 murmur rose along their lines. The enem^y's bat- 
 teries opened ; long they remained under fire, but 
 when at length the word was given they shouted 
 and ran forward. In one of the divisions, when 
 midway to the enemy, a drunken officer ordered a 
 halt ; the exasperated men hesitated to obey. 
 
 "Forward, boys!" cried a private from the 
 ranks ; and the Americans, rushing like tigers upon 
 the enemy, bounded over the breastwork. Four 
 hundred Mexicans were slain upon the spot, and 
 the rest iled, scattering over the plain like sheep. 
 The standards, cannon, and baggage were taken, 
 
DOWN THE ARKANSAS. 387 
 
 and among the rest a wagon laden with cords, 
 which the Mexicans, in the fulness of their confi- 
 dence, had made ready for tying the American 
 prisoners. 
 
 Doniphan's volunteers, who gained this victory, 
 passed up with the main army ; but Price's soldiers, 
 whom we now met, were men from the same neigh- 
 borhood, precisely similar in character, manners, 
 and appearance. One forenoon, as we were de- 
 scending upon a very wide meadow, where we 
 meant to rest for an hour or two, we saw a dark 
 body of horsemen approaching at a distance. In 
 order to find water we were obliged to turn aside to 
 the river-bank, a full half-m.ile from the trail. Here 
 we put up a kind of awning, and spreading buffalo- 
 robes on the ground, Shaw and I sat down to smoke 
 beneath it. 
 
 ' ' We are going to catch it now, ' ' said Shaw ; 
 " look at those fellows ; there'll be no peace for us 
 here." 
 
 And in good truth about half the volunteers had 
 straggled away from the line of march, and were 
 riding over the meadow toward us. 
 
 "How are you?" said the first who cam.e up, 
 ahghting from his horse and throwing himself upon 
 the ground. The rest followed close, and a score 
 of them soon gathered about us, some lying at full 
 length, and some sitting on horseback. They all 
 belonged to a company raised in St. Louis. There 
 were some ruffian faces among them, and some 
 haggard with debaucher}^ , but on the whole they 
 were extremely good-looking men, superior beyond 
 measure to the ordinary rank and file of an army. 
 Except that they were booted to the knees, they 
 wore their belts and military trappings over the 
 ordinary dress of citizens. Besides their swords 
 and holster-pistols, they carried, slung from their 
 
388 THE OREGON TRAIL. 
 
 saddles, the excellent Springfield carbines, loaded 
 at the breech. They inquired the character of our 
 party, and were anxious to know the prospect of 
 killing buffalo, and the chance that their .horses 
 would stand the journey to Santa Fe. All this was 
 well enough, but a moment after a worse visita- 
 tion came upon us. 
 
 "How are you, strangers? whar are you going 
 and whar are you from ?' ' said a fellow, who came 
 trotting up with an old straw hat on his head. He 
 was dressed in the coarsest brown homespun cloth. 
 His face was rather sallow from fever and ague, and 
 his tall figure, though strong and sinewy, was quite 
 thin, and had besides an angular look, which, to- 
 gether with his boorish seat on horseback, gave him 
 an appearance anything but graceful. Plenty more 
 of the same stamp were close behind him. Their 
 company was raised in one of the frontier counties, 
 and we soon had abundant evidence of their rustic 
 breeding ; dozens of them came crowding around, 
 pushing between our first visitors, and staring at us 
 with unabashed faces. 
 
 ' ' Are you the captain ?' ' asked one fellow. 
 
 "What's your business out here?" asked an- 
 other. 
 
 " Whar do you live when you're at home ?" said 
 a third. 
 
 "I reckon you're traders," surmised a fourth; 
 and to crown the whole, one of them came confi- 
 dently to my side and inquired in a low voice, 
 " What's your partner's name ?" 
 
 As each new-comer repeated the same questions 
 the nuisance became intolerable. Our mihtary vis- 
 itors were soon disgusted at the concise nature of 
 our replies, and we could overhear them muttering 
 curses against us. While we sat smoking, not in 
 the best imaginable humor, Tete Rouge's tongue 
 
DOWN THE ARKANSAS. 389 
 
 was never idle. He never forgot his military char- 
 acter, and during the whole interview he was inces- 
 santly busy among his fellow-soldiers. At length 
 we placed him on the ground before us, and told 
 him that he might play the part of spokesman for 
 the whole. Tete Rouge was delighted, and we soon 
 had the satisfaction of seeing him talk and gabble at 
 such a rate that the torrent of questions was in a 
 great measure diverted from us. A little while after, 
 to our amazement, we saw a large cannon with four 
 horses come lumbering up behind the crowd ; and 
 the driver, who was perched on one of the animals, 
 stretching his neck so as to look over the rest of the 
 men, called out : 
 
 " Whar are you from, and what's your busi- 
 ness ?' ' 
 
 The captain of one of the companies was among 
 our visitors, drawn by the same curiosity that had 
 attracted his men. Unless their faces belied them, 
 not a few in the crowd might with great advantage 
 have changed places with their commander. 
 
 "Well, men," said he, lazily rising from the 
 ground where he had been lounging, " it's getting 
 late, I reckon we had better be moving." 
 
 " I shan't start yet, anyhow," said one fellow, 
 who was lying half-asleep, with his head resting on 
 his arm. 
 
 " Don't be in a hurry, captain," added the lieu- 
 tenant. 
 
 "Well, have it your own way ; we'll wait awhile 
 longer," replied the obsequious commander. 
 
 At length, however, our visitors went straggling 
 away as they had come, and we, to our great relief, 
 were left alone again. 
 
 No one can deny the intrepid bravery of these 
 men, their intelligence and the bold frankness of 
 their character, free from all that is mean and sor- 
 
390 THE OREGON TRAIL. 
 
 did. Yet, for the moment, the extreme roughness 
 of their manners half-inchnes one to forget their 
 heroic quahties. Most of them seem without the 
 least perception of dehcacy or propriety, though 
 among them individuals may be found in whose 
 manners there is a plain courtesy, while their feat- 
 ures bespeak a gallant spirit equal to any enterprise. 
 No one was more relieved than Delorier by the 
 departure of the volunteers ; for dinner was getting 
 colder every moment. He spread a well-whitened 
 buffalo-hide upon the grass, placed in the middle 
 the juicy hump of a fat cow, ranged around it the tin 
 plates and cups, and then acquainted us that all was 
 ready. Tete Rouge, with his usual alacrity on such 
 occasions, was the first to take his seat. In his 
 former capacity of steamboat clerk he had learned 
 to prefix the honorary Mister to everybody's name, 
 whether of high or low degree ; so Jim Gurney was 
 Mr. Gurney, Henry was Mr. Henry, and even Delo- 
 rier, for the first time in his life, heard himself ad- 
 dressed as Mr. Delorier. This did not prevent his 
 conceiving a violent enmity against Tete Rouge, 
 who, in his futile, though praiseworthy, attempts to 
 make himself useful, used always to intermeddle 
 with cooking the dinners. Delorier' s disposition 
 knew no medium between smiles and sunshine and 
 a downright tornado of wrath ; he said nothing to 
 Tete Rouge, but his wrongs wrankled in his breast. 
 Tete Rouge had taken his place at dinner ; it was 
 his happiest moment ; he sat enveloped in the old 
 buffalo-coat, sleeves turned up in preparation for 
 the work, and his short legs crossed on the grass 
 before him ; he had a cup of coffee by his side and 
 his knife ready in his hand, and while he looked 
 upon the fat hump-ribs, his eyes dilated with antici- 
 pation. Delorier sat just opposite to him, and the 
 rest of us by this time had taken our seats. 
 
DOWN THE ARKANSAS. 39 1 
 
 " How is this, Delorier? You haven't given us 
 bread enough." 
 
 At this Delorier' s placid face flew instantly into a 
 paroxysm of contortions. He grinned with wrath, 
 chattered, gesticulated, and hurled forth a volley of 
 incoherent words in broken English at the astonished 
 Tete Rouge. It was just possible to make out that 
 he was accusing him of having stolen and eaten four 
 large cakes which had been laid by for dinner. Tete 
 Rouge, utterly confounded at this sudden attack, 
 stared at Delorier for a moment in dumb amaze- 
 ment, with mouth and eyes wide open. At last he 
 found speech, and protested that the accusation was 
 false ; and that he could not conceive how he had 
 offended Mr. Delorier, or provoked him to use such 
 ungentlemanly expressions. The tempest of words 
 raged with such fury that nothing else could be heard. 
 But Tete Rouge, from his greater command of Eng- 
 lish, had a manifest advantage over Delorier, who, 
 after sputtering and grimacing for awhile, found his 
 words quite inadequate to the expression of his 
 wrath. He jumped up and vanished, jerking out 
 between his teeth one furious sacra enfan dc grace, 
 a Canadian title of honor, made doubly emphatic by 
 being usually applied together with a cut of the whip 
 to refractory mules and horses. 
 
 The next morning we saw an old buffalo-bull 
 escorting his cow with two small calves over the 
 prairie. Close behind came four or five large white 
 wolves, sneaking stealthily through the long meadow- 
 grass, and watching for the moment when one of the 
 children should chance to lag behind his parents. 
 The old bull kept well on his guard, and faced about 
 now and then to keep the prowling ruffians at a 
 distance. 
 
 As we approached our nooning-place we saw five 
 or six buffalo standing at the very summit of a tall 
 
392 THE OREGON TRAIL. 
 
 bluff. Trotting forward to the spot where we meant 
 to stop, I flung off my saddle and turned my horse 
 loose. By making a circuit under cover of some 
 rising ground, I reached the foot of the bluff unno- 
 ticed, and climbed up its steep side. Lying under 
 the brow of the declivity, I prepared to fire at the 
 buffalo, who stood on the flat surface above, not 
 five yards distant. Perhaps I was too hasty, for the 
 gleaming rifle-barrel levelled over the edge caught 
 their notice ; they turned and ran. Close as they 
 were, it was impossible to kill them when in that 
 position, and, stepping upon the summit, I pursued 
 them over the high arid table-land. It was ex- 
 tremely rugged and broken ; a great sandy ravine 
 was channelled through it, with smaller ravines enter- 
 ing on each side, like tributary streams. The buffalo 
 scattered, and I soon lost sight of most of them as 
 they scuttled away through the sandy chasms ; a 
 bull and a cow alone kept in view. For a while they 
 ran along the edge of the great ravine, appearing 
 and disappearing as they dived into some chasm 
 and again emerged from it. At last they stretched 
 out upon the broad prairie, a plain nearly flat and 
 almost devoid of verdure, for every short grass-blade 
 was dried and shrivelled by the glaring sun. Now 
 and then the old bull would face toward me ; when- 
 ever he did so I fell to the ground and lay motion- 
 less. In this manner I chased them for about two 
 miles, until at length I heard in front a deep hoarse 
 bellowing. A moment after, a band of about a hun- 
 dred bulls, before hidden by a slight swell of the 
 plain, came at once into view. The fugitives ran 
 toward them. Instead of mingling with the band, 
 as I expected, they passed directly through, and 
 continued their flight. At this I gave up the chase, 
 and kneeling down, crawled to within gun-shot of 
 the bulls, and with panting breath and trickling brow 
 
DOWN THE ARKANSAS. 393 
 
 sat down on the ground to watch them ; my presence 
 did not disturb them in the least. They were not 
 feeding, for, indeed, there was nothing to eat ; but 
 they seemed to have chosen the parched and scorch- 
 ing desert as the scene of their amusements. Some 
 were rolhng on the ground amid a cloud of dust ; 
 others, with a hoarse, rumbling bellow, were butting 
 their large heads together, while many stood motion- 
 less, as if quite inanimate. Except their monstrous 
 growth of tangled, grizzly mane, they had no hair ; 
 for their old coat had fallen off in the spring, and 
 their new one had not as yet appeared. Sometimes 
 an old bull would step forward, and gaze at me with 
 a grim and stupid countenance ; then he would turn 
 and butt his next neighbor ; then he would lie down 
 and roll over in the dirt, kicking his hoofs in the 
 air. When satisfied with this amusement, he would 
 jerk his head and shoulders upward, and resting on 
 his forelegs, stare at me in this position, half-blinded 
 by his mane, and his face covered with dirt ; then 
 up he would spring upon all-fours, and shake his 
 dusty sides ; turning half-around, he would stand with 
 his beard touching the ground, in an attitude of pro- 
 found abstraction, as if reflecting on his puerile con- 
 duct. ' ' You are too ugly to live, ' ' thought I ; and 
 aiming at the ugliest, I shot three of them in succes- 
 sion. The rest were not at all discomposed at this ; 
 they kept on bellowing and butting and rolling on 
 the ground as before. Henry Chatillon always cau- 
 tioned us to keep perfectly quiet in the presence of 
 a wounded buffalo, for any movement is apt to 
 excite him to make an attack ; so I sat still upon the 
 ground, loading and firing with as little motion as 
 possible. While I was thus employed, a spectator 
 made his appearance : a little antelope came run- 
 ning up with remarkable gentleness to within fifty 
 yards ; and there it stood, its slender neck arched, 
 
394 ^-^-^ OREGON TRAIL. 
 
 its small horns thrown back, and its large dark eyes 
 gazing on me with a look of eager curiosity. By 
 the side of the shaggy and brutish monsters before 
 me, it seemed hke some lovely young girl wander- 
 ing near a den of robbers or a nest of bearded 
 pirates. The buffalo looked uglier than ever. ' ' Here 
 goes for another of you," thought 1, feeling in my 
 pouch for a percussion-cap. Not a percussion-cap 
 was there. My good rifle was useless as an old iron 
 bar. One of the v/ounded bulls had not yet fallen, 
 and I waited for some time, hoping every moment 
 that his strength would fail him. He still stood firm, 
 looking grimly at me, and disregarding Henry's 
 advice, I rose and walked away. Many of the bulls 
 turned and looked at me, but the wounded brute 
 made no attack, I soon came upon a deep ravine 
 which would give me shelter in case of emergency ; 
 so I turned around and threw a stone at the bulls. 
 They received it with the utmost indifference. Feel- 
 ing myself insulted at their refusal to be frightened, 
 I swung my hat, shouted, and made a show of run- 
 ning toward them ; at this they crowded together 
 and galloped off, leaving their dead and wounded 
 upon the field. As I moved toward the camp I saw 
 the last survivor totter and fall dead. My speed in 
 returning was wonderfully quickened by the reflec- 
 tion that the Pawnees were abroad, and that I was 
 defenceless in case of meeting with an enemy. I 
 saw no living thing, however, except two or three 
 squalid old bulls scrambling among the sand-hills 
 that flanked the great ravine. When I reached 
 camp the party were nearly ready for the afternoon 
 move. 
 
 We encamped that evening at a short distance 
 from the river-bank. About midnight, as we all lay 
 asleep on the ground, the man nearest to me, gently 
 reaching out his hand, touched my shoulder, and 
 
DOWN THE ARKANSAS. 395 
 
 cautioned me at the same time not to move. It was 
 bright starhght. Opening my eyes and shghtly turn- 
 ing, I sav/ a large white wolf moving stealthily 
 around the embers of our fire, with his nose close 
 to the ground. Disengaging my hand from the 
 blanket, 1 drew the cover from my rifle, which lay 
 close at my side ; the motion alarmed the wolf, and 
 with long leaps he bounded out of the camp. Jump- 
 ing up, I fired after him, when he was about thirty 
 yards distant ; the melancholy hum of the bullet 
 sounded far away through the night. At the sharp 
 report, so suddenly breaking upon the stillness, all 
 the men sprang up. 
 
 " You've killed him," said one of them. 
 
 "No, I haven't," said I ; "there he goes, run- 
 ning along the river. ' ' 
 
 " Then there's two of them. Don't you see that 
 one lying out yonder ?' ' 
 
 We went out to it, and instead of a dead white 
 wolf, found the bleached skull of a buffalo. I had 
 missed my mark, and what was worse, had grossly 
 violated a standing lav\^ of the prairie. When in a 
 dangerous part of the country, it is considered 
 highly imprudent to fire a gun after encamping, 
 lest the report should reach the ears of the Indians. 
 
 The horses were saddled in the morning, and the 
 last man had lighted his pipe at the dying ashes of 
 the fire. The beauty of the day enlivened us all. 
 Ev^en Ellis felt its influence, and occasionally made 
 a remark as we rode along ; and Jim Gurney told 
 endless stories of his cruisings in the United States 
 service. The bufialo were abundant, and at length 
 a large band of them went running up the hills on 
 the left. 
 
 "Do you see them buffalo?" said Ellis, "now, 
 I'll bet any man I'll go and kill one with my yager." 
 
 And leaving his horse to follow on with the party. 
 
396 THE OREGON TRAIL. 
 
 he strode up the hill after them. Henry looked at 
 us with his peculiar humorous expression, and pro- 
 posed that we should follow Ellis to see how he 
 would kill a fat cow. As soon as he was out of 
 sight we rode up the hill after him, and waited be- 
 hind a little ridge till we heard the report of the 
 unfailing yager. Mounting to the top, we saw Ellis 
 clutching his favorite weapon with both hands, and 
 staring after the buffalo, who, one and all, were gal- 
 loping off at full speed. As we descended the hill 
 we saw the party straggling along the trail below. 
 When we joined them, another scene of amateur 
 hunting awaited us. I forgot to say that when we 
 met the volunteers Tete Rouge had obtained a horse 
 from one of them, in exchange for his mule, whom 
 he feared and detested. This horse he christened 
 James. James, though not worth so much as the 
 mule, was a large and strong animal. Tete Rouge 
 was very proud of his new acquisition, and sud- 
 denly became ambitious to run a buffalo with him. 
 At his request I lent him my pistols, though not 
 without great misgivings, since when Tete Rouge 
 hunted buffalo the pursuer was in more danger than 
 the pursued. He hung the holsters at his saddle- 
 bow ; and now, as we passed along, a band of bulls 
 >eft their grazing in the meadow and galloped in a 
 long file across the trail in front. 
 
 "Now's your chance, Tete ; come, let's see you 
 kill a bull." 
 
 Thus urged, the hunter cried, "get up!" and 
 James, obedient to the signal, cantered deliberately 
 forward at an abominably uneasy gait. Tete Rouge, 
 as we contemplated him from behind, made a most 
 remarkable figure. He still wore the old buffalo- 
 coat ; his blanket, which was tied in a loose bundle 
 behind his saddle, went jolting from one side to the 
 other, and a large tin canteen, half-full of water, 
 
DOWN THE ARKANSAS. 397 
 
 which hung from his pommel, was jerked about his 
 leg in a manner which greatly embarrassed him. 
 
 " Let out your horse, man ; lay on your whip !" 
 we called out to him. The buffalo were getting 
 farther off at every instant. James, being am- 
 bitious to mend his pace, tugged hard at the rein, 
 and one of his rider's boots escaped from the stirrup. 
 
 "Whoa! I say, whoa!" cried Tete Rouge, in 
 great perturbation, and after much effort James's 
 progress was arrested. The hunter came trotting 
 back to the party, disgusted with buffalo-running, 
 and he was received with overwhelming congratula- 
 tions. 
 
 ' ' Too good a chance to lose, ' ' said Shaw, point- 
 ing to another band of bulls on the left. We lashed 
 our horses and galloped upon them. Shaw killed 
 one with each barrel of his gun. I separated an- 
 other from the herd and shot him. The small bul- 
 let of the rifle-pistol striking too far back, did not 
 immediately take effect, and the bull ran on with 
 unabated speed. Again and again I snapped the 
 remaining pistol at him. I primed it afresh three 
 or four times, and each time it missed fire, for the 
 touch-hole was clogged up. Returning it to the 
 holster, I began to load the empty pistol, still gal- 
 loping by the side of the bull. By this time he was 
 grown desperate. The foam flew from his jaws and 
 his tongue lolled out. Before the pistol was loaded 
 he sprang upon me, and followed up his attack with 
 a furious rush. The only alternative was to run 
 away or be killed. I took to flight, and the bull, 
 bristling with fury, pursued me closely. The pistol 
 was soon ready, and then looking back, I saw his 
 head five or six yards behind my horse's tail. To 
 fire at it would be useless, for a bullet flattens against 
 the adamantine skull of a buffalo-bull. Inclining 
 my body to the left, I turned my horse in that direc- 
 
398 THE OREGON TRAIL. 
 
 tion as sharply as his speed would permit. The 
 bull, rushing blindly on with great force and weight, 
 did not turn so quickly. As I looked back, his 
 neck and shoulder were exposed to view ; turning in 
 the saddle, I shot a bullet through them obliquely 
 into his vitals. He gave over the chase and soon 
 fell to the ground. An English tourist represents a 
 situation like this as one of imminent danger ; this 
 is a great mistake ; the bull never pursues long, 
 and the horse must be wretched, indeed, that cannot 
 keep out of his way for two or three minutes. 
 
 We were now come to a part of the country 
 where we were bound in common prudence to use 
 every possible precaution. We mounted guard at 
 night, each man standing in his turn ; and no one 
 ever slept without drawing his rifle close to his side 
 or folding it with him in his blanket. One morning 
 our vigilance was stimulated by our finding traces 
 of a large Comanche encampment. Fortunately 
 for us, however, it had been abandoned nearly a 
 week. On the next evening we found the ashes of 
 a recent fire, which gave us at the timiC some un- 
 easiness. At length we reached "The Caches," a 
 place of dangerous repute ; and it had a most dan- 
 gerous appearance, consisting of sand-hills every- 
 where broken by ravines and deep chasms. Here 
 we found the grave of Swan, killed at this place, 
 probably by the Pawnees, two or three weeks before. 
 His remains, more than once violated by the Indians 
 and the wolves, were suffered at length to remain 
 undisturbed in their wild burial-place. 
 
 For several days we met detached companies of 
 Price's regiment. Horses would often break loose 
 at night from their camps. One afternoon we picked 
 up three of these stragglers quietly grazing along 
 the river. After we came to camp that evening, 
 Jim Gurney brought news that more of them were 
 
DOWN THE ARKANSAS. 399 
 
 in sight. It was nearly dark, and a cold, drizzling 
 rain had set in ; but we all turned out, and after an 
 hour's chase nine horses were caught and brought 
 in. One of them was equipped with saddle and 
 bridle ; pistols were hanging at the pommel of the 
 saddle, a carbine was slung at its side, and a blanket 
 rolled up behind it. In the morning, glorying in 
 our valuable prize, we resumed our journey, and 
 our cavalcade presented a much more imposing 
 appearance than ever before. We kept on till the 
 afternoon, when, far behind, three horsemen ap- 
 peared on the horizon. Coming on at a hand- 
 gallop, they soon overtook us, and claimed all the 
 horses as belonging to themselves and others of 
 their company. They were, of course, given up, 
 very much to the mortification of Ellis and Jim 
 Gurney. 
 
 Our own horses now showed signs of fatigue, and 
 we resolved to give them half a day's rest. We 
 stopped at noon at a grassy spot by the river. After 
 dinner Shaw and Henry went out to hunt ; and 
 while the men lounged about the camp, I lay down 
 to read in the shadow of the cart. Looking up, I 
 saw a bull grazing alone on the prairie, more than a 
 mile distant. I was tired of reading, and taking my 
 rifle I walked toward him. As I came near, I 
 crawled upon the ground until I approached to 
 within a hundred yards ; here I sat down upon the 
 grass and waited till he should turn himself into a 
 proper position to receive his death-wound. He 
 was a grim old veteran. His loves and his battles 
 were over for that season, and now, gaunt and war- 
 worn, he had withdrawn from the herd to graze by 
 himself and recruit his exhausted strength. He was 
 miserably emaciated ; his mane was all in tatters ; his 
 hide was bare and rough as an elephant's, and cov- 
 ered with dried patches of the mud in which he had 
 
400 THE OREGON TRAIL. 
 
 been wallowing. He showed all his ribs whenever 
 he moved. He looked like some grizzly old ruffian 
 grown gray in blood and violence, and scowling on 
 all the world from his misanthropic seclusion. The 
 old savage looked up when I first approached, and 
 gave me a fierce stare ; then he fell to grazing again 
 with an air of contemptuous indifference. The mo- 
 ment after, as if suddenly recollecting himself, he 
 threw up his head, faced quickly about, and, to my 
 amazement, came at a rapid trot directly toward me. 
 I was strongly impelled to get up and run, but this 
 would have been very dangerous. Sitting quite 
 still, I aimed, as he came on, at the thin part of the 
 skull above the nose. After he had passed over 
 about three-quarters of the distance between us, I 
 was on the point of firing, when, to my great satis- 
 faction, he stopped short. I had full opportunity of 
 studying his countenance ; his whole front was cov- 
 ered with a huge mass of coarse, matted hair, which 
 hung so low that nothing but his two forefeet were 
 visible beneath it ; his short, thick horns were blunted 
 and split to the very roots in his various battles, and 
 across his nose and forehead were two or three large 
 white scars, which gave him a grim, and, at the 
 same time, a whimsical appearance. It seemed to 
 me that he stood there motionless for a full quarter 
 of an hour, looking at me through the tangled locks 
 of his mane. For my part, 1 remained as quiet as 
 he, and looked quite as hard ; I felt greatly inclined 
 to come to terms with him. " My friend," thought 
 I, " if you'll let me off, I'll let you off." At length 
 he seemed to have abandoned any hostile design. 
 Very slowly and deliberately he began to turn about ; 
 little by little his side came into view, all beplastered 
 with mud. It was a tempting sight. I forgot my 
 prudent intentions, and fired my rifle ; a pistol would 
 have served at that distance. Round spun old bull 
 
DOWN THE ARKANSAS. 4OI 
 
 like a top, and away he galloped over the prairie. 
 He ran some distance, and even ascended a con- 
 siderable hill, before he lay down and died. After 
 shooting another bull among the hills, I went back 
 to camp. 
 
 At noon, on the fourteenth of September, a very 
 large Santa Fe caravan came up. The plain was 
 covered with the long files of their white-topped 
 wagons, the close black carriages in which the 
 traders travel and sleep, large droves of animals, 
 and men on horseback and on foot. They all 
 stopped on the meadow near us. Our diminutive 
 cart and handful of men made but an insignificant 
 figure by the side of their wide and bustling camp. 
 Tete Rouge went over to visit them, and soon came 
 back with half a dozen biscuits in one hand, and a 
 bottle of brandy in the other. I inquired where he got 
 them. " Oh," said Tete Rouge, " I know some of 
 the traders. Dr. Dobbs is there besides." I asked 
 who Dr. Dobbs might be. ' ' One of our St. Louis 
 doctors," replied Tete Rouge. For two days past I 
 had been severely attacked by the same disorder 
 which had so greatly reduced my strength when at 
 the mountains ; at this time I was suffering not a 
 little from the sudden pain and weakness which it 
 occasioned. Tete Rouge, in answer to my inquiries, 
 declared that Dr. Dobbs was a physician of the 
 first standing. Without at all believing him, I re- 
 solved to consult this eminent practitioner. Walk- 
 ing over to the camp, 1 found him lying sound 
 asleep under one of the wagons. He offered in his 
 own person but an indifferent specimen of his skill, 
 for it was five months since I had seen so cadaverous 
 a face. His hat had fallen off, and his yellow hair 
 was all in disorder ; one of his arms supplied the 
 place of a pillow ; his pantaloons were wrinkled 
 half-way up to his knees, and he was covered with 
 2G 
 
402 THE OREGON TRAIL. 
 
 little bits of grass and straw, upon which he had 
 rolled in his uneasy slumber, A Mexican stood 
 near, and I made him a sign that he should touch 
 the doctor. Up sprang the learned Dobbs, and 
 sitting upright, rubbed his eyes and looked about 
 him in great bewilderment. I regretted the neces- 
 sity of disturbing him, and said I had come to ask 
 professional advice. 
 
 " Your system, sir, is in a disordered state," said 
 he, solemnly, after a short examination. 
 
 I inquired what might be the particular species of 
 disorder. 
 
 • • Evidently a morbid action of the liver, ' ' replied 
 the medical man ; " I will give you a prescription." 
 
 Repairing to the back of one of the covered 
 wagons, he scrambled in ; for a moment I could see 
 nothing of him but his boots. At length he pro- 
 duced a box which he had extracted from some dark 
 recess within, and opening it, he presented me with 
 a folded paper of some size. ' ' What is it ?' ' said 
 I. " Calomel," said the doctor. 
 
 Under the circumstances I would have taken 
 almost anything. There was not enough to do me 
 much harm, and it might possibly do good ; so at 
 camp that night I took the poison instead of supper. 
 
 That camp is worthy of notice. The traders 
 warned us not to follow the main trail along the 
 river, "unless," as one of them observed, "you 
 want to have your throats cut !" The river at this 
 place makes a bend ; and a smaller trail, known as 
 " the Ridge-path," leads directly across the prairie 
 from point to point, a distance of sixty or seventy 
 miles. 
 
 We followed this trail, and after travelling seven 
 or eight miles, we came to a small stream, where 
 we encamped. Our position was not chosen with 
 much forethought or military skill. The water was 
 
DOWN THE ARKANSAS. 403 
 
 in a deep hollow, with steep, high banks ; on the 
 grassy bottom of this hollow we picketed our horses, 
 while we ourselves encamped upon the barren prairie 
 just above. The opportunity was admirable either 
 for driving off our horses or attacking us. After 
 dark, as Tete Rouge was sitting at supper, we 
 observed him pointing, with a face of speechless 
 horror, over the shoulder of Henry, who was oppo- 
 site to him. Aloof amid the darkness appeared a 
 gigantic black apparition, solemnly swaying to and 
 fro as it advanced steadily upon us. Henry, half- 
 vexed and half-amused, jumped up, spread out his 
 arms, and shouted. The invader was an old buffalo- 
 bull, who, with characteristic stupidity, was walking 
 directly into camp. It cost some shouting and 
 swinging of hats before we could bring him first to 
 a halt and then to a rapid retreat. 
 
 That night the moon was full and bright ; but as 
 the black clouds chased rapidly over it, we were at 
 one moment in light and at the next in darkness. 
 As the evening advanced, a thunder-storm came up ; 
 it struck us with such violence that the tent would 
 have been blown over if we had not interposed the 
 cart to break the force of the wind. At length it 
 subsided to a steady rain. I lay awake through 
 nearly the whole night, listening to its dull patter 
 upon the canvas above. The moisture, which filled 
 the tent and trickled from everything in it, did not 
 add to the comfort of the situation. About twelve 
 o'clock Shaw went out to stand guard amid the rain 
 and pitch darkness. Munroe, the most vigilant as 
 well as one of the bravest among us, was also on 
 the alert. When about two hours had passed, Shaw 
 came silently in, and touching Henry, called him in 
 a low, quick voice to come out. " What is it?" I 
 asked. "Indians, I believe," whispered Shaw; 
 " but lie still ; I'll call you if there's a fight." 
 
404 THE OREGON TRAIL. 
 
 He and Henry went .out together. I took the 
 cover from my rifle, put a fresh percussion-cap upon 
 it, and then, being in much pain, lay down again. 
 In about five minutes Shaw came in again. "All 
 right," he said, as he lay down to sleep. Henry 
 was now standing guard in his place. He told me 
 in the morning the particulars of the alarm. 
 Munroe's watchful eye discovered some dark objects 
 down in the hollow, among the horses, like men 
 creeping on all-fours. Lying flat on their faces, he 
 and Shaw crawled to the edge of the bank, and 
 were soon convinced that what they saw were 
 Indians. Shaw silently withdrew to call Henry, 
 and they all lay watching in the same position. 
 Henry's eye is one of the best on the prairie. He 
 detected after a while the true nature of the moving 
 objects ; they Avere nothing but wolves creeping 
 among the horses. 
 
 It is very singular that when picketed near a camp 
 horses seldom show any fear of such an intrusion. 
 The wolves appear to have no other object than 
 that of gnawing the trail-ropes of raw-hide by which 
 the animals are secured. Several times in the 
 course of the journey my horse's trail-rope was 
 bitten in two by these nocturnal visitors. 
 
 CHAPTER XXVII. 
 
 THE SETTLEMENTS. 
 
 " And some are in a far countree, 
 And some all restlessly at home ; 
 But never more, ah never, we 
 
 Shall meet to revel and to roam." 
 
 Siege of Corinth. 
 
 The next day was extremely hot, and we rode 
 from morning till night without seeing a tree or a 
 
THE SETTLEMENTS. 405 
 
 bush or a drop of water. Our horses and mules 
 suffered much more than we, but as sunset ap- 
 proached, they pricked up their ears and mended 
 their pace. Water was not far off. When we came 
 to the descent of the broad, shallow valley where it 
 lay, an unlooked-for sight awaited us. The stream 
 glistened at the bottom, and along its banks were 
 pitched a multitude of tents, while hundreds of 
 cattle were feeding over the meadows. Bodies of 
 troops, both horse and foot, and long trains of 
 wagons, with men, women, and children, were 
 moving over the opposite ridge and descending the 
 broad declivity in front. These were the Mormon 
 battalion in the service of the government, together 
 with a considerable number of Missouri volunteers. 
 The Mormons were to be paid off in California, and 
 they were allowed to bring with them their families 
 and property. There was something very striking 
 in the half-military, half-patriarchal appearance of 
 these armed fanatics, thus on their way, with their 
 wives and children, to found, it might be, a Mormon 
 empire in California. We were much more aston- 
 ished than pleased at the sight before us. In order 
 to find an unoccupied camping-ground we were 
 obliged to pass a quarter of a mile up the 
 stream, and here we were soon beset by a 
 swarm of Mormons and Missourians. The United 
 States officer in command of the whole came 
 also to visit us, and remained some time at our 
 camp. 
 
 In the morning the country was covered with 
 mist. We were always early risers, but before we 
 were ready the voices of men driving in the cattle 
 sounded all around us. As we passed above their 
 camp we saw, through the obscurity, that the tents 
 were falling and the ranks rapidly forming ; and 
 mingled with the cries of women and children, the 
 
406 THE OREGON TRAIL. 
 
 rolling of the ^vlormon drums and the clear blast of 
 their trumpets sounded through the mist. 
 
 From that time to the journey's end we met almost 
 every day long trains of government wagons laden 
 with stores for the tro( 
 pace toward Santa Fe. 
 
 Tete Rouge had a mortal antipathy to danger, but 
 on a foraging expedition one evening he achieved an 
 adventure more perilous than had yet befallen any 
 man in the party. The night after we left ' ' the Ridge- 
 path ' ' we encamped close to the river. At sunset we 
 saw a train of wagons encamping on the trail, about 
 three miles off ; and though we saw them distinctly, 
 our little cart, as it afterward proved, entirely escaped 
 their view. For some days Tete Rouge had been 
 longing eagerly after a dram of whiskey. So, re- 
 solving to improve the present opportunity, he 
 mounted his horse James, slung his canteen over 
 his shoulder, and set forth in search of his favorite 
 liquor. Some hours passed without his returning. 
 We thought that he was lost, or perhaps that some 
 stray Indian had snapped him up. While the rest 
 fell asleep I remained on guard. Late at night a 
 tremulous voice saluted me from the darkness, and 
 Tete Rouge and James soon became visible ad- 
 vancing toward the camp. Tete Rouge was in 
 much agitation and big with some important tidings. 
 Sitting down on the shaft of the cart, he told the 
 following story : 
 
 When he left the camp he had no idea, he said, 
 how late it was. By the time he approached the 
 wagoners it was perfectly dark ; and as he saw them 
 all sitting around their fires within the circle of 
 wagons, their guns laid by their sides, he thought 
 he might as well give warning of his approach, in 
 order to prevent a disagreeable mistake. Raising 
 his voice to the highest pitch, he screamed out in 
 
THE SETTLE ATE NTS. 407 
 
 prolonged accents, '' camp ahoy f This eccentric 
 salutation produced anything but the desired result. 
 Hearing such hideous sounds proceeding from the 
 outer darkness, the wagoners thought that the whole 
 Pawnee nation were about to break in and take 
 their scalps. Up they sprang, staring with terror. 
 Each man snatched his gun ; some stood behind the 
 wagons ; some threw themselves flat on the ground, 
 and in an instant twenty cocked muskets were lev- 
 elled full at the horrified Tete Rouge, who just then 
 began to be visible through the darkness. 
 
 "Thar they come !" cried the master-wagoner; 
 ' ' fire ! fire ! Shoot that feller. ' ' 
 
 "No, no !" screamed Tete Rouge, in an ecstasy 
 of fright ; " don't fire, don't ; I'm a friend, I'm an 
 American citizen !" 
 
 " You're a friend, be you ?" cried a gruff voice 
 from the wagons ; ' ' then what are you yelling out 
 thar for, like a wild Injun ? Come along up here if 
 you're a man." 
 
 " Keep your guns p'inted at him," added the 
 master-wagoner ; " maybe he's a decoy, like." 
 
 Tete Rouge, in utter bewilderment, made his ap- 
 proach, with the gaping muzzles of the muskets 
 still before his eyes. He succeeded at last in ex- 
 plaining his character and situation, and the Missou- 
 rians admitted him into camp. He got no whiskey ; 
 but as he represented himself as a great invalid, and 
 suffering much from coarse fare, they made up a 
 contribution for him of rice, biscuit, and sugar from 
 their own rations. 
 
 In the morning, at breakfast, Tete Rouge once 
 more related this story. We hardly knew how 
 much of it to believe, though, after some cross- 
 questioning, we failed to discover any flaw in the 
 narrative. Passing by the wagoner's camp, they 
 confirmed Tete Rouge's account in every particular. 
 
408 THE OREGON TRAIL. 
 
 "I wouldn't have been in that feller's place," 
 said one of them, ' ' for the biggest heap of money 
 in Missouri," 
 
 To Tete Rouge's great wrath they expressed a 
 firm conviction that he was crazy. We left them 
 after giving them the advice not to trouble them- 
 selves about war-whoops in the future, since they 
 would be apt to feel an Indian's arrow before they 
 heard his voice. 
 
 A day or two after we had an adventure of an- 
 other sort with a party of wagoners. Henry and I 
 rode forward to hunt. After that day there was no 
 probability that we should meet with buffalo, and 
 we were anxious to kill one, for the sake of fresh 
 meat. They were so wild that we hunted all the 
 morning in vain, but at noon, as we approached 
 Cow Creek, we saw a large band feeding near its 
 margin. Cow Creek is densely lined with trees 
 which intercept the view beyond, and it runs, as we 
 afterward found, at the bottom of a deep trench. 
 We approached by riding along the bottom of a 
 ravine. When we were near enough, I held the 
 horses while Henry crept toward the buffalo. I saw 
 him take his seat within shooting distance, prepare 
 his rifle, and look about to select his victim. The 
 death of a fat cow was certain, when suddenly a 
 great smoke arose from the bed of the creek, with a 
 rattling volley of musketry. A score of long-legged 
 Missourians leaped out from among the trees and 
 ran after the buffalo, who one and all took to their 
 heels and vanished. These fellows had crawled up 
 the bed of the creek to within a hundred yards of 
 the buffalo. Never was there a fairer chance for a 
 shot. They were good marksmen ; all cracked 
 away at once, and yet not a buffalo fell. In fact, the* 
 animal is so tenacious of life that it requires no little 
 knowledge of anatomy to kill it, and it is very sei- 
 
THE SETTLEMENTS. 409 
 
 dom that a novice succeeds in his first attempt at 
 ' ' approaching. ' ' The balked Missourians were ex- 
 cessively mortified, especially when Henry told them 
 that if they had kept quiet he would have killed 
 meat enough in ten minutes to feed their whole 
 party. Our friends, who were at no great distance, 
 hearing such a formidable fusilade, thought the In- 
 dians had fired the volley for our benefit. Shaw 
 came galloping on to reconnoitre and learn if we 
 were yet in the land of the living. 
 
 At Cow Creek we found the very welcome 
 novelty of ripe grapes and plums, which grew 
 there in abundance. At the Little Arkansas, not 
 much farther on, we saw the last buffalo, a miser- 
 able old bull, roaming over the prairie alone and 
 melancholy. 
 
 From this time forward the character of the coun- 
 try was changing every day. We had left behind 
 us the great arid deserts, meagerly covered by 
 the tufted buffalo-grass, with its pale green hue and 
 its short shrivelled blades. The plains before us were 
 carpeted with rich and verdant herbage sprinkled 
 with flowers. In place of buffalo v/e found plenty of 
 prairie-hens, and we bagged them by dozens without 
 leaving the trail. In three or four days we saw before 
 us the broad woods and the emerald meadows of 
 Council Grove, a scene of striking luxuriance and 
 beauty. It seemed like a new sensation as we rode 
 beneath the resounding arches of these noble woods. 
 The trees were ash, oak, elm, maple, and hickory, 
 their mighty limbs deeply overshadowing the path, 
 while enormous grape-vines were entwined among 
 them, purple with fruit. The shouts of our scattered 
 party, and now and then a report of a rifle rang 
 kmid the breathing stillness of the forest. We rode 
 forth again with regret into the broad light of the 
 open prairie. Little more than a hundred miles now 
 
4IO THE OREGON TRAIL. 
 
 separated us from the frontier settlements. The 
 whole intervening country was a succession of ver- 
 dant prairies, rising in broad swells and relieved by- 
 trees clustering like an oasis around some spring, or 
 following the course of a stream along some fertile 
 hollow. These are the prairies of the poet and the 
 novelist. We had left danger behind us. Nothing 
 was to be feared from the Indians of this region — the 
 Sacs and Foxes, the Kansas, and the Osages, We 
 had met with signal good fortune. Although for five 
 months we had been travelling with an insufficient 
 force through a country where we were at any mo- 
 ment liable to depredation, not a single animal had 
 been stolen from us. And our only loss had been 
 one old mule bitten to death by a rattlesnake. Three 
 weeks after we reached the frontier, the Pawnees 
 and the Comanches began a regular series of hostili- 
 ties on the Arkansas trail, killing men and driving 
 off horses. They attacked, without exception, every 
 party, large or small, that passed during the next 
 six months. 
 
 Diamond Spring, P^ock Creek, Elder Grove, and 
 other camping-places besides were passed, all in 
 quick succession. At Rock Creek we found a train 
 of government provision wagons under the charge 
 of an emaciated old man in his seventy-first year. 
 Some restless American devil had driven him into 
 the wilderness at a time when he should have been 
 seated at his fireside with his grandchildren on his 
 knees. I am convinced that he never returned ; he 
 was complaining that night of a disease, the wasting 
 effects of which upon a younger and stronger man, I 
 myself had proved from severe experience. Long ere 
 this, no doubt, the wolves have howled their moon- 
 light carnival over the old man's attenuated remains. 
 
 Not long after we came to a small trail leading to 
 Fort Leavenworth, distant but one day's journey. 
 
THE SETTLEMENTS. 411 
 
 Tete Rouge here took leave of us. He was anxious 
 to go to the fort in order to receive payment for his 
 valuable military services. So he and his horse 
 James, after bidding an affectionate farewell, set 
 out together, taking with them as much provision as 
 they could conveniently carry, including a large 
 quantity of brown sugar. On a cheerless, rainy 
 evening we came to our last encamping ground. 
 Some pigs belonging to a Shawanoe farmer were 
 grunting and rooting at the edge of the grove. 
 
 "I wonder how fresh pork tastes?" murmured 
 one of the party, and more than one voice murmured 
 in response. The fiat went forth, "That pig must 
 die, ' ' and a rifle was levelled forthwith at the coun- 
 tenance of the plumpest porker. Just then a wagon- 
 train, with some twenty Missourians, came out from 
 among the trees. The marksman suspended his 
 aim, deeming it inexpedient under the circum- 
 stances to consummate the deed of blood. 
 
 In the morning we made our toilet as well as cir- 
 cumstances would permit, and that is saying but 
 very little. In spite of the dreary rain of yesterday, 
 there never was a brighter and gayer autumnal 
 morning than that on which we returned to the set- 
 tlements. We were passing through the country of 
 the half-civilized Shawanoes. It was a beautiful 
 alternation of fertile plains and groves, whose foli- 
 age was just tinged with the hues of autumn, while 
 close beneath them rested the neat log-houses of the 
 Indian farmers. Every field and meadow bespoke 
 the exuberant fertility of the soil. The maize 
 stood rustling in the wind, matured and dr}-, its 
 shining yellow ears thrust out between the gaping 
 husks. Sc|uashes and enormous yellov/ pumpkins 
 lay basking in the sun in the midst of their brown 
 and shrivelled leaves. Robins and blackbirds flew 
 about the fences ; and everything, in short, beto- 
 
412 THE OREGON TRAIL. 
 
 kened our near approach to home and civihzation. 
 The forests that border on the Missouri soon rose 
 before us, and we entered the wide tract of shrub- 
 bery which forms their outskirts. We had passed 
 the same road on our outward journey in the spring, 
 but its aspect was totally changed. The young wild 
 apple trees, then flushed with their fragrant blos- 
 soms, were now hung thickly with ruddy fruit. Tall 
 grass flourished by the roadside in place of the 
 tender shoots just peeping from the warm and oozy 
 soil. The vines were laden with dark purple 
 grapes, and the slender twigs of the maple, then 
 tasselled with their clusters of small red flowers, now 
 hung out a gorgeous display of leaves stained by 
 the frost with burning crimson. On every side we 
 saw the tokens of maturity and decay, where all had 
 before been fresh and beautiful. We entered the 
 forest, and ourselves and our horses were checkered, 
 as we passed along, by the bright spots of sunlight 
 that fell between the opening boughs. On either 
 side the dark, rich masses of foliage almost excluded 
 the sun, though here and there its rays could find 
 their way down, striking through the broad leaves 
 and lighting them with a pure transparent green. 
 Squirrels barked at us from the trees ; coveys of 
 young partridges ran rustling over the leaves below, 
 and the golden oriole, the blue-jay, and the flaming 
 red-bird darted among the shadowy branches. W^e 
 hailed these sights and sounds of beauty by no 
 means with an unmingled pleasure. Many and 
 powerful as were the attractions which drew us 
 toward the settlements, we looked back even at 
 that moment with an eager longing toward the 
 wilderness of prairies and mountains behind us. 
 For myself, I had suff'ered more that summer from 
 illness than ever before in my life, and yet to 
 this hour I cannot recall those savage scenes and 
 
THE SETTLEMENTS. 413 
 
 savage men without a strong desire again to visit 
 them. 
 
 At length, for the first time during about half a 
 year, we saw the roof of a white man's dwelling 
 between the opening trees. A few moments after 
 we were riding over the miserable log-bridge that 
 leads into the centre of Westport. Westport had 
 beheld strange scenes, but a rougher looking troop 
 than ours, with our worn equipments and broken- 
 down horses, was never seen even there. We 
 passed the well-remembered tavern, Boone's gro- 
 cery, and old Vogle's dram-shop, and encamped on 
 a meadow beyond. Here we were soon visited by 
 a number of people, who came to purchase our 
 horses and equipage. This matter disposed of, we 
 hired a wagon and drove on to Kansas Landing. 
 Here we were again received under the hospitable 
 roof of our old friend, Colonel Chick, and seated 
 under his porch, we looked down once more on the 
 eddies of the Missouri. 
 
 Delorier made his appearance in the morning, 
 strangely transformed by the assistance of a hat, a 
 coat, and a razor. His little log-house was among 
 the woods not far off. It seemed he had meditated 
 giving a ball on the occasion of his return, and had 
 consulted Henry Chatillon as to whether it would 
 do to invite his bourgeois. Henry expressed his 
 entire conviction that we would not take it amiss, 
 and the invitation was now proffered accordingly, 
 Delorier adding as a special inducement that An- 
 toine Lajeunesse was to play the fiddle. We told 
 him we would certainly come, but before the even- 
 ing arrived a steamboat, which came down from 
 Fort Leavenworth, prevented our being present 
 at the expected festivities. Delorier was on the 
 rock at the landing-place, waiting to take leave 
 of us. 
 
414 THE OREGON TRAIL. 
 
 "Adieu ! mes bourgeois, adieu ! adieu !" he cried 
 out as the boat put off ; ' ' when you go another time 
 to de Rocky Montagnes I will go with you ; yes, I 
 will go !" 
 
 He accompanied this patronizing assurance by 
 jumping about, swinging his hat, and grinning from 
 ear to ear. As the boat rounded a distant point, 
 the last object that met our eyes was Delorier, still 
 lifting his hat and skipping about the rock. We 
 had taken leave of Munroe and Jim Gurney at West- 
 port, and Henry Chatillon went down in the boat 
 with us. 
 
 The passage to St. Louis occupied eight days, 
 during about a third of which time we were fast 
 aground on sand-bars. We passed the steamer 
 ' 'Amelia, ' ' crowded with a roaring crew of disbanded 
 volunteers swearing, drinking, gambling, and fight- 
 ing. At length one evening we reached the crowded 
 levee of St. Louis. Repairing to the Planters' House 
 we caused diligent search to be made for our trunks, 
 which, after some time, were discovered stowed 
 away in the farthest corner of the store-room. In 
 the morning we hardly recognized each other ; a 
 frock of broadcloth had supplanted the frock of 
 buckskin ; well-fitted pantaloons took the place of 
 the Indian leggings, and polished boots were substi- 
 tuted for the gaudy moccasons. 
 
 After we had been several days at St. Louis we 
 heard news of Tete Rouge. He had contrived to 
 reach Fort Leavenworth, where he had found the 
 paymaster and received his money. As a boat was 
 just ready to start for St. Louis he went on board 
 and engaged his passage. This done, he imme- 
 diately got drunk on shore, and the boat went off 
 without him. It was some days before another 
 opportunity occurred, and meanwhile the sutler's 
 stores furnished him with abundant means of keep- 
 
THE SETTLEMENTS. 415 
 
 ing up his spirits. Another steamboat came at last, 
 the clerk of which happened to be a friend of his, 
 and by the advice of some charitable person on 
 shore, he persuaded Tete Rouge to remain on board, 
 intending to detain him there until the boat should 
 leave the fort. At first Tete Rouge was well con- 
 tented with this arrangement, but on applying for a 
 dram, the bar-keeper, at the clerk's instigation, 
 refused to let him have it. Finding them both in- 
 flexible in spite of his entreaties, he became des- 
 perate and made his escape from the boat. The 
 clerk found him, after a long search, in one of the 
 barracks ; a circle of dragoons stood contemplating 
 him as he lay on the floor, maudlin drunk and 
 crying dismally. With the help of one of them the 
 clerk pushed him on board, and our informant, who 
 came down in the same boat, declares that he re- 
 mained in great despondency during the whole pas- 
 sage. As we left St. Louis soon after his arrival, 
 we did not see the worthless, good-natured little 
 vagabond again. 
 
 On the evening before our departure, Henry 
 Chatillon came to our rooms at the Planters' House 
 to take leave of us. No one who met him in the 
 streets of St. Louis would have taken him for a 
 hunter fresh from the Rocky Mountains. He was 
 very neatly and simply dressed in a suit of dark 
 cloth ; for although since his sixteenth year he had 
 scarcely been for a month together among the abodes 
 of men, he had a native good taste and a sense of 
 propriety which always led him to pay great attention 
 to his personal appearance. His tall athletic figure, 
 with its easy flexible motions, appeared to advantage 
 in his present dress ; and his fine face, though rough- 
 ened by a thousand storms, was not at all out of 
 keeping with it. We took leave of him with much 
 reo-ret ; and unless his changing features, as he 
 
c:-'j^ 
 
 416 
 
 THE OREGON TRAIL. 
 
 shook us by the hand, behed him, the feehng on 
 his part was no less than on ours,"^ Shaw had given 
 him a horse at Westport. My rifle, which he had 
 always been fond of using, as it was an excellent 
 piece, much better than his own, is now in his 
 hands, and perhaps at this moment its sharp voice 
 is startling the echoes of the Rocky Mountains. On 
 the next morning we left town, and after a fortnight 
 of railroads and steamboats we saw once more the 
 familiar features of home. 
 
 * I cannot take leave of the reader without adding a word 
 of the guide who had served us throughovit with such zeal 
 and fidelity. Indeed, his services had far surpassed the terms 
 of his engagement. Yet, whoever had been his employers, 
 or to whatever closeness of intercourse they might have 
 thought fit to admit him, he would never have changed the 
 bearing of quiet respect which he considered due to his bour- 
 geois. If sincerity and honor, a boundless generosity of 
 spirit, a delicate regard to the feelings of others, and a nice 
 perception of what was due to them, are the essential char- 
 acteristics of a gentleman, then Henry Chatillon deserves the 
 title. He could not write his own name, and he had spent 
 his life among savages. In him sprang up spontaneously 
 those qualities which all the refinements of life and inter- 
 course with the highest and best of the better part of man- 
 kind fail to awaken in the brutish nature of some men. In 
 spite of his bloody calling, Henry was always humane and 
 merciful; he was gentle as a woman, though braver than a 
 lion. He acted aright from the free impulses of his large 
 and generous nature. A certain species of selfishness is 
 essential to the sternness of spirit which bears down opposi- 
 tion and subjects the will of others to its own. Henry's 
 character was of an opposite stamp. His easy good-nature 
 almost amounted to weakness ; yet, while it unfitted him for 
 any position of command, it secured the esteem and good- 
 will of all those who were not jealous of his skill and repu- 
 tation, 
 
 THE END. 
 
 L. .. 
 
 '.J, J 
 
 J 
 
 V