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The Adventures of Captain Bonneville

by Washington Irving

July, 1998  [Etext #1372]


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The Adventures of Captain
Bonneville
digested from his journal by
Washington Irving


Originally published in 1837




Introductory Notice


WHILE ENGAGED in writing an account of the grand enterprise of
Astoria, it was my practice to seek all kinds of oral information
connected with the subject. Nowhere did I pick up more
interesting particulars than at the table of Mr. John Jacob
Astor;  who, being the patriarch of the fur trade in the United
States, was accustomed to have at his board various persons of
adventurous turn, some of whom had been engaged in his own great
undertaking; others, on their own account, had made expeditions
to the Rocky Mountains and the waters of the Columbia.

Among these personages, one who peculiarly took my fancy was
Captain Bonneville, of the United States army; who, in a rambling
kind of enterprise, had strangely ingrafted the trapper and
hunter upon the soldier. As his expeditions and adventures will
form the leading theme of the following pages, a few biographical
particulars concerning him may not be unacceptable.

Captain Bonneville is of French parentage. His father was a
worthy old emigrant, who came to this country many years since,
and took up his abode in New York. He is represented as a man not
much calculated for the sordid struggle of a money-making world,
but possessed of a happy temperament, a festivity of imagination,
and a simplicity of heart, that made him proof against its rubs
and trials. He was an excellent scholar; well acquainted with
Latin and Greek, and fond of the modern classics. His book was
his elysium; once immersed in the pages of Voltaire, Corneille,
or Racine, or of his favorite English author, Shakespeare, he
forgot the world and all its concerns. Often would he be seen in
summer weather, seated under one of the trees on the Battery, or
the portico of St. Paul's church in Broadway, his bald head
uncovered, his hat lying by his side, his eyes riveted to the
page of his book, and his whole soul so engaged, as to lose all
consciousness of the passing throng or the passing hour.

Captain Bonneville, it will be found, inherited something of his
father's bonhommie, and his excitable imagination; though the
latter was somewhat disciplined in early years, by mathematical
studies. He was educated at our national Military Academy at West
Point, where he acquitted himself very creditably; thence, he
entered the army, in which he has ever since continued.

The nature of our military service took him to the frontier,
where, for a number of years, he was stationed at various posts
in the Far West. Here he was brought into frequent intercourse
with Indian traders, mountain trappers, and other pioneers of the
wilderness; and became so excited by their tales of wild scenes
and wild adventures, and their accounts of vast and magnificent
regions as yet unexplored, that an expedition to the Rocky
Mountains became the ardent desire of his heart, and an
enterprise to explore untrodden tracts, the leading object of his
ambition.

By degrees he shaped his vague day-dream into a practical
reality. Having made himself acquainted with all the requisites
for a trading enterprise beyond the mountains, he determined to
undertake it. A leave of absence, and a sanction of his
expedition, was obtained from the major general in chief, on his
offering to combine public utility with his private projects, and
to collect statistical information for the War Department
concerning the wild countries and wild tribes he might visit in
the course of his journeyings.

Nothing now was wanting to the darling project of the captain,
but the ways and means. The expedition would require an outfit of
many thousand dollars; a staggering obstacle to a soldier, whose
capital is seldom any thing more than his sword. Full of that
buoyant hope, however, which belongs to the sanguine temperament,
he repaired to New-York, the great focus of American enterprise,
where there are always funds ready for any scheme, however
chimerical or romantic. Here he had the good fortune to meet with
a gentleman of high respectability and influence, who had been
his associate in boyhood, and who cherished a schoolfellow
friendship for him. He took a general interest in the scheme of
the captain; introduced him to commercial men of his
acquaintance, and in a little while an association was formed,
and the necessary funds were raised to carry the proposed measure
into effect. One of the most efficient persons in this
association was Mr. Alfred Seton, who, when quite a youth, had
accompanied one of the expeditions sent out by Mr. Astor to his
commercial establishments on the Columbia, and had distinguished
himself by his activity and courage at one of the interior posts.
Mr. Seton was one of the American youths who were at Astoria at
the time of its surrender to the British, and who manifested such
grief and indignation at seeing the flag of their country hauled
down. The hope of seeing that flag once more planted on the
shores of the Columbia, may have entered into his motives for
engaging in the present enterprise.

Thus backed and provided, Captain Bonneville undertook his
expedition into the Far West, and was soon beyond the Rocky
Mountains. Year after year elapsed without his return. The term
of his leave of absence expired, yet no report was made of him at
head quarters at Washington. He was considered virtually dead or
lost and his name was stricken from the army list.

It was in the autumn of 1835 at the country seat of Mr. John
Jacob Astor, at Hellgate, that I first met with Captain
Bonneville He was then just returned from a residence of upwards
of three years among the mountains, and was on his way to report
himself at head quarters, in the hopes of being reinstated in the
service. From all that I could learn, his wanderings in the
wilderness though they had gratified his curiosity and his love
of adventure had not much benefited his fortunes. Like Corporal
Trim in his campaigns, he had "satisfied the sentiment," and that
was all. In fact, he was too much of the frank, freehearted
soldier, and had inherited too much of his father's temperament,
to make a scheming trapper, or a thrifty bargainer.

There was something in the whole appearance of the captain that
prepossessed me in his favor. He was of the middle size, well
made and well set; and a military frock of foreign cut, that had
seen service, gave him a look of compactness. His countenance was
frank, open, and engaging; well browned by the sun, and had
something of a French expression.  He had a pleasant black eye, a
high forehead, and, while he kept his hat on, the look of a man
in the jocund prime of his days; but the moment his head was
uncovered, a bald crown gained him credit for a few more years
than he was really entitled to.

Being extremely curious, at the time, about every thing connected
with the Far West, I addressed numerous questions to him. They
drew from him a number of extremely striking details, which were
given with mingled modesty and frankness; and in a gentleness of
manner, and a soft tone of voice, contrasting singularly with the
wild and often startling nature of his themes. It was difficult
to conceive the mild, quiet-looking personage before you, the
actual hero of the stirring scenes related.

In the course of three or four months, happening to be at the
city of Washington, I again came upon the captain, who was
attending the slow adjustment of his affairs with the War
Department. I found him quartered with a worthy brother in arms,
a major in the army. Here he was writing at a table, covered with
maps and papers, in the centre of a large barrack room,
fancifully decorated with Indian arms, and trophies, and war
dresses, and the skins of various wild animals, and hung round
with pictures of Indian games and ceremonies, and scenes of war
and hunting. In a word, the captain was beguiling the tediousness
of attendance at court, by an attempt at authorship; and was
rewriting and extending his travelling notes, and making maps of
the regions he had explored. As he sat at the table, in this
curious apartment, with his high bald head of somewhat foreign
cast, he reminded me of some of those antique pictures of authors
that I have seen in old Spanish volumes.

The result of his labors was a mass of manuscript, which he
subsequently put at my disposal, to fit it for publication and
bring it before the world. I found it full of interesting details
of life among the mountains, and of the singular castes and
races, both white men and red men, among whom he had sojourned.
It bore, too, throughout, the impress of his character, his
bonhommie, his kindliness of spirit, and his susceptibility to
the grand and beautiful.

That manuscript has formed the staple of the following work. I
have occasionally interwoven facts and details, gathered from
various sources, especially from the conversations and journals
of some of the captain's contemporaries, who were actors in the
scenes he describes. I have also given it a tone and coloring
drawn from my own observation, during an excursion into the
Indian country beyond the bounds of civilization; as I before
observed, however, the work is substantially the narrative of the
worthy captain, and many of its most graphic passages are but
little varied from his own language.

I shall conclude this notice by a dedication which he had made of
his manuscript to his hospitable brother in arms, in whose
quarters I found him occupied in his literary labors; it is a
dedication which, I believe, possesses the qualities, not always
found in complimentary documents of the kind, of being sincere,
and being merited.

To JAMES HARVEY HOOK, Major, U. S. A., 
whose jealousy of its honor, whose anxiety for its interests, and
whose sensibility for its wants, have endeared him to the service
as The Soldier's Friend; 
and whose general amenity, constant cheerfulness. disinterested
hospitality, and unwearied benevolence, entitle him to the still
loftier title of The Friend of Man, 
this work is inscribed, etc.


                                                WASHINGTON IRVING



                              1. 
                                
    State of the fur trade of the Rocky Mountains  American
enterprises General Ashley and his associates Sublette, a famous
  leader Yearly rendezvous among the mountains Stratagems and
dangers of the trade Bands of trappers Indian banditti Crows and
 Blackfeet Mountaineers  Traders of the Far West Character and
                     habits of the trapper

IN A RECENT WORK we have given an account of the grand enterprise
of Mr. John Jacob Astor to establish an American emporium for the
fur trade at the mouth of the Columbia, or Oregon River; of the
failure of that enterprise through the capture of Astoria by the
British, in 1814; and of the way in which the control of the
trade of the Columbia and its dependencies fell into the hands of
the Northwest Company. We have stated, likewise, the unfortunate
supineness of the American government in neglecting the
application of Mr. Astor for the protection of the American flag,
and a small military force, to enable him to reinstate himself in
the possession of Astoria at the return of peace; when the post
was formally given up by the British government, though still
occupied by the Northwest Company. By that supineness the
sovereignty in the country has been virtually lost to the United
States; and it will cost both governments much trouble and
difficulty to settle matters on that just and rightful footing on
which they would readily have been placed had the proposition of
Mr. Astor been attended to. We shall now state a few particulars
of subsequent events, so as to lead the reader up to the period
of which we are about to treat, and to prepare him for the
circumstances of our narrative.

In consequence of the apathy and neglect of the American
government, Mr. Astor abandoned all thoughts of regaining
Astoria, and made no further attempt to extend his enterprises
beyond the Rocky Mountains; and the Northwest Company considered
themselves the lords of the country. They did not long enjoy
unmolested the sway which they had somewhat surreptitiously
attained. A fierce competition ensued between them and their old
rivals, the Hudson's Bay Company; which was carried on at great
cost and sacrifice, and occasionally with the loss of life. It
ended in the ruin of most of the partners of the Northwest
Company; and the merging of the relics of that establishment, in
1821, in the rival association. From that time, the Hudson's Bay
Company enjoyed a monopoly of the Indian trade from the coast of
the Pacific to the Rocky Mountains, and for a considerable extent
north and south. They removed their emporium from Astoria to Fort
Vancouver, a strong post on the left bank of the Columbia River,
about sixty miles from its mouth; whence they furnished their
interior posts, and sent forth their brigades of trappers.

The Rocky Mountains formed a vast barrier between them and the
United States, and their stern and awful defiles, their rugged
valleys, and the great western plains watered by their rivers,
remained almost a terra incognita to the American trapper. The
difficulties experienced in 1808, by Mr. Henry of the Missouri
Company, the first American who trapped upon the head-waters of
the Columbia; and the frightful hardships sustained by Wilson P.
Hunt, Ramsay Crooks, Robert Stuart, and other intrepid Astorians,
in their ill-fated expeditions across the mountains, appeared for
a time to check all further enterprise in that direction. The
American traders contented themselves with following up the head
branches of the Missouri, the Yellowstone, and other rivers and
streams on the Atlantic side of the mountains, but forbore to
attempt those great snow-crowned sierras.

One of the first to revive these tramontane expeditions was
General Ashley, of Missouri, a man whose courage and achievements
in the prosecution of his enterprises have rendered him famous in
the Far West. In conjunction with Mr. Henry, already mentioned,
he established a post on the banks of the Yellowstone River in
1822, and in the following year pushed a resolute band of
trappers across the mountains to the banks of the Green River or
Colorado of the West, often known by the Indian name of the
Seeds-ke-dee Agie. This attempt was followed up and sustained by
others, until in 1825 a footing was secured, and a complete
system of trapping organized beyond the mountains.

It is difficult to do justice to the courage, fortitude, and
perseverance of the pioneers of the fur trade, who conducted
these early expeditions, and first broke their way through a
wilderness where everything was calculated to deter and dismay
them. They had to traverse the most dreary and desolate
mountains, and barren and trackless wastes, uninhabited by man,
or occasionally infested by predatory and cruel savages. They
knew nothing of the country beyond the verge of their horizon,
and had to gather information as they wandered. They beheld
volcanic plains stretching around them, and ranges of mountains
piled up to the clouds, and glistening with eternal frost: but
knew nothing of their defiles, nor how they were to be penetrated
or traversed. They launched themselves in frail canoes on rivers,
without knowing whither their swift currents would carry them, or
what rocks and shoals and rapids they might encounter in their
course. They had to be continually on the alert, too, against the
mountain tribes, who beset every defile, laid ambuscades in their
path, or attacked them in their night encampments; so that, of
the hardy bands of trappers that first entered into these
regions, three-fifths are said to have fallen by the hands of
savage foes.

In this wild and warlike school a number of leaders have sprung
up, originally in the employ, subsequently partners of Ashley;
among these we may mention Smith, Fitzpatrick, Bridger, Robert
Campbell, and William Sublette; whose adventures and exploits
partake of the wildest spirit of romance. The association
commenced by General Ashley underwent various modifications. That
gentleman having acquired sufficient fortune, sold out his
interest and retired; and the leading spirit that succeeded him
was Captain William Sublette; a man worthy of note, as his name
has become renowned in frontier story. He is a native of
Kentucky, and of game descent; his maternal grandfather, Colonel
Wheatley, a companion of Boon, having been one of the pioneers of
the West, celebrated in Indian warfare, and killed in one of the
contests of the "Bloody Ground." We shall frequently have
occasion to speak of this Sublette, and always to the credit of
his game qualities. In 1830, the association took the name of the
Rocky Mountain Fur Company, of which Captain Sublette and Robert
Campbell were prominent members.

In the meantime, the success of this company attracted the
attention and excited the emulation of the American Fur Company,
and brought them once more into the field of their ancient
enterprise. Mr. Astor, the founder of the association, had
retired from busy life, and the concerns of the company were ably
managed by Mr. Ramsay Crooks, of Snake River renown, who still
officiates as its president. A competition immediately ensued
between the two companies for the trade with the mountain tribes
and the trapping of the head-waters of the Columbia and the other
great tributaries of the Pacific. Beside the regular operations
of these formidable rivals, there have been from time to time
desultory enterprises, or rather experiments, of minor
associations, or of adventurous individuals beside roving bands
of independent trappers, who either hunt for themselves, or
engage for a single season, in the service of one or other of the
main companies.

The consequence is that the Rocky Mountains and the ulterior
regions, from the Russian possessions in the north down to the
Spanish settlements of California, have been traversed and
ransacked in every direction by bands of hunters and Indian
traders; so that there is scarcely a mountain pass, or defile,
that is not known and threaded in their restless migrations, nor
a nameless stream that is not haunted by the lonely trapper.

The American fur companies keep no established posts beyond the
mountains. Everything there is regulated by resident partners;
that is to say, partners who reside in the tramontane country,
but who move about from place to place, either with Indian
tribes, whose traffic they wish to monopolize, or with main
bodies of their own men, whom they employ in trading and
trapping. In the meantime, they detach bands, or "brigades" as
they are termed, of trappers in various directions, assigning to
each a portion of country as a hunting or trapping ground. In the
months of June and July, when there is an interval between the
hunting seasons, a general rendezvous is held, at some designated
place in the mountains, where the affairs of the past year are
settled by the resident partners, and the plans for the following
year arranged.

To this rendezvous repair the various brigades of trappers from
their widely separated hunting grounds, bringing in the products
of their year's campaign. Hither also repair the Indian tribes
accustomed to traffic their peltries with the company. Bands of
free trappers resort hither also, to sell the furs they have
collected; or to engage their services for the next hunting
season.

To this rendezvous the company sends annually a convoy of
supplies from its establishment on the Atlantic frontier, under
the guidance of some experienced partner or officer. On the
arrival of this convoy, the resident partner at the rendezvous
depends to set all his next year's machinery in motion.

Now as the rival companies keep a vigilant eye upon each other,
and are anxious to discover each other's plans and movements,
they generally contrive to hold their annual assemblages at no
great distance apart. An eager competition exists also between
their respective convoys of supplies, which shall first reach its
place of rendezvous. For this purpose, they set off with the
first appearance of grass on the Atlantic frontier and push with
all diligence for the mountains. The company that can first open
its tempting supplies of coffee, tobacco, ammunition, scarlet
cloth, blankets, bright shawls, and glittering trinkets has the
greatest chance to get all the peltries and furs of the Indians
and free trappers, and to engage their services for the next
season. It is able, also, to fit out and dispatch its own
trappers the soonest, so as to get the start of its competitors,
and to have the first dash into the hunting and trapping grounds.

A new species of strategy has sprung out of this hunting and
trapping competition. The constant study of the rival bands is to
forestall and outwit each other; to supplant each other in the
good will and custom of the Indian tribes; to cross each other's
plans; to mislead each other as to routes; in a word, next to his
own advantage, the study of the Indian trader is the disadvantage
of his competitor.

The influx of this wandering trade has had its effects on the
habits of the mountain tribes. They have found the trapping of
the beaver their most profitable species of hunting; and the
traffic with the white man has opened to them sources of luxury
of which they previously had no idea. The introduction of
firearms has rendered them more successful hunters, but at the
same time, more formidable foes; some of them, incorrigibly
savage and warlike in their nature, have found the expeditions of
the fur traders grand objects of profitable adventure. To waylay
and harass a band of trappers with their pack-horses, when
embarrassed in the rugged defiles of the mountains, has become as
favorite an exploit with these Indians as the plunder of a
caravan to the Arab of the desert. The Crows and Blackfeet, who
were such terrors in the path of the early adventurers to
Astoria, still continue their predatory habits, but seem to have
brought them to greater system. They know the routes and resorts
of the trappers; where to waylay them on their journeys; where to
find them in the hunting seasons, and where to hover about them
in winter quarters. The life of a trapper, therefore, is a
perpetual state militant, and he must sleep with his weapons in
his hands.

A new order of trappers and traders, also, has grown out of this
system of things. In the old times of the great Northwest
Company, when the trade in furs was pursued chiefly about the
lakes and rivers, the expeditions were carried on in batteaux and
canoes. The voyageurs or boatmen were the rank and file in the
service of the trader, and even the hardy "men of the north,"
those great rufflers and game birds, were fain to be paddled from
point to point of their migrations.

A totally different class has now sprung up:--"the Mountaineers,"
the traders and trappers that scale the vast mountain chains, and
pursue their hazardous vocations amidst their wild recesses. They
move from place to place on horseback. The equestrian exercises,
therefore, in which they are engaged, the nature of the countries
they traverse, vast plains and mountains, pure and exhilarating
in atmospheric qualities, seem to make them physically and
mentally a more lively and mercurial race than the fur traders
and trappers of former days, the self-vaunting "men of the
north." A man who bestrides a horse must be essentially different
from a man who cowers in a canoe. We find them, accordingly,
hardy, lithe, vigorous, and active; extravagant in word, and
thought, and deed; heedless of hardship; daring of danger;
prodigal of the present, and thoughtless of the future.

A difference is to be perceived even between these mountain
hunters and those of the lower regions along the waters of the
Missouri. The latter, generally French creoles, live comfortably
in cabins and log-huts, well sheltered from the inclemencies of
the seasons. They are within the reach of frequent supplies from
the settlements; their life is comparatively free from danger,
and from most of the vicissitudes of the upper wilderness. The
consequence is that they are less hardy, self-dependent and
game-spirited than the mountaineer. If the latter by chance comes
among them on his way to and from the settlements, he is like a
game-cock among the common roosters of the poultry-yard.
Accustomed to live in tents, or to bivouac in the open air, he
despises the comforts and is impatient of the confinement of the
log-house. If his meal is not ready in season, he takes his
rifle, hies to the forest or prairie, shoots his own game, lights
his fire, and cooks his repast. With his horse and his rifle, he
is independent of the world, and spurns at all its restraints.
The very superintendents at the lower posts will not put him to
mess with the common men, the hirelings of the establishment, but
treat him as something superior.

There is, perhaps, no class of men on the face of the earth, says
Captain Bonneville, who lead a life of more continued exertion,
peril, and excitement, and who are more enamored of their
occupations, than the free trappers of the West. No toil, no
danger, no privation can turn the trapper from his pursuit. His
passionate excitement at times resembles a mania. In vain may the
most vigilant and cruel savages beset his path; in vain may rocks
and precipices and wintry torrents oppose his progress; let but a
single track of a beaver meet his eye, and he forgets all dangers
and defies all difficulties. At times, he may be seen with his
traps on his shoulder, buffeting his way across rapid streams,
amidst floating blocks of ice: at other times, he is to be found
with his traps swung on his back clambering the most rugged
mountains, scaling or descending the most frightful precipices,
searching, by routes inaccessible to the horse, and never before
trodden by white man, for springs and lakes unknown to his
comrades, and where he may meet with his favorite game. Such is
the mountaineer, the hardy trapper of the West; and such, as we
have slightly sketched it, is the wild, Robin Hood kind of life,
with all its strange and motley populace, now existing in full
vigor among the Rocky Mountains.

Having thus given the reader some idea of the actual state of the
fur trade in the interior of our vast continent, and made him
acquainted with the wild chivalry of the mountains, we will no
longer delay the introduction of Captain Bonneville and his band
into this field of their enterprise, but launch them at once upon
the perilous plains of the Far West.



                              2. 
                                
    Departure from Fort Osage Modes of transportation Pack-
horses Wagons Walker and Cerre; their characters Buoyant feelings
     on launching upon the prairies Wild equipments of the
trappers Their gambols and antics Difference of character between
 the American and French trappers  Agency of the Kansas General
 Clarke White Plume, the Kansas chief Night scene in a trader's
     camp Colloquy between White Plume and the captain Bee-
hunters Their expeditions Their feuds with the Indians Bargaining
                     talent of White Plume


IT WAS ON THE FIRST of May, 1832, that Captain Bonneville took
his departure from the frontier post of Fort Osage, on the
Missouri. He had enlisted a party of one hundred and ten men,
most of whom had been in the Indian country, and some of whom
were experienced hunters and trappers. Fort Osage, and other
places on the borders of the western wilderness, abound with
characters of the kind, ready for any expedition. 

The ordinary mode of transportation in these great inland
expeditions of the fur traders is on mules and pack-horses; but
Captain Bonneville substituted wagons. Though he was to travel
through a trackless wilderness, yet the greater part of his route
would lie across open plains, destitute of forests, and where
wheel carriages can pass in every direction. The chief difficulty
occurs in passing the deep ravines cut through the prairies by
streams and winter torrents. Here it is often necessary to dig a
road down the banks, and to make bridges for the wagons.

In transporting his baggage in vehicles of this kind, Captain
Bonneville thought he would save the great delay caused every
morning by packing the horses, and the labor of unpacking in the
evening. Fewer horses also would be required, and less risk
incurred of their wandering away, or being frightened or carried
off by the Indians. The wagons, also, would be more easily
defended, and might form a kind of fortification in case of
attack in the open prairies. A train of twenty wagons, drawn by
oxen, or by four mules or horses each, and laden with
merchandise, ammunition, and provisions, were disposed in two
columns in the center of the party, which was equally divided
into a van and a rear-guard. As sub-leaders or lieutenants in his
expedition, Captain Bonneville had made choice of Mr. J. R.
Walker and Mr. M. S. Cerre. The former was a native of Tennessee,
about six feet high, strong built, dark complexioned, brave in
spirit, though mild in manners. He had resided for many years in
Missouri, on the frontier; had been among the earliest
adventurers to Santa Fe, where he went to trap beaver, and was
taken by the Spaniards. Being liberated, he engaged with the
Spaniards and Sioux Indians in a war against the Pawnees; then
returned to Missouri, and had acted by turns as sheriff, trader,
trapper, until he was enlisted as a leader by Captain Bonneville.

Cerre, his other leader, had likewise been in expeditions to
Santa Fe, in which he had endured much hardship. He was of the
middle size, light complexioned, and though but about twenty-five
years of age, was considered an experienced Indian trader. It was
a great object with Captain Bonneville to get to the mountains
before the summer heats and summer flies should render the
travelling across the prairies distressing; and before the annual
assemblages of people connected with the fur trade should have
broken up, and dispersed to the hunting grounds.

The two rival associations already mentioned, the American Fur
Company and the Rocky Mountain Fur Company, had their several
places of rendezvous for the present year at no great distance
apart, in Pierre's Hole, a deep valley in the heart of the
mountains, and thither Captain Bonneville intended to shape his
course.

It is not easy to do justice to the exulting feelings of the
worthy captain at finding himself at the head of a stout band of
hunters, trappers, and woodmen; fairly launched on the broad
prairies, with his face to the boundless West. The tamest
inhabitant of cities, the veriest spoiled child of civilization,
feels his heart dilate and his pulse beat high on finding himself
on horseback in the glorious wilderness; what then must be the
excitement of one whose imagination had been stimulated by a
residence on the frontier, and to whom the wilderness was a
region of romance!

His hardy followers partook of his excitement. Most of them had
already experienced the wild freedom of savage life, and looked
forward to a renewal of past scenes of adventure and exploit.
Their very appearance and equipment exhibited a piebald mixture,
half civilized and half savage. Many of them looked more like
Indians than white men in their garbs and accoutrements, and
their very horses were caparisoned in barbaric style, with
fantastic trappings. The outset of a band of adventurers on one
of these expeditions is always animated and joyous. The welkin
rang with their shouts and yelps, after the manner of the
savages; and with boisterous jokes and light-hearted laughter. As
they passed the straggling hamlets and solitary cabins that
fringe the skirts of the frontier, they would startle their
inmates by Indian yells and war-whoops, or regale them with
grotesque feats of horsemanship, well suited to their halfsavage
appearance. Most of these abodes were inhabited by men who had
themselves been in similar expeditions; they welcomed the
travellers, therefore, as brother trappers, treated them with a
hunter's hospitality, and cheered them with an honest God speed
at parting.

And here we would remark a great difference, in point of
character and quality, between the two classes of trappers, the
"American" and "French," as they are called in contradistinction.
The latter is meant to designate the French creole of Canada or
Louisiana; the former, the trapper of the old American stock,
from Kentucky, Tennessee, and others of the western States. The
French trapper is represented as a lighter, softer, more
self-indulgent kind of man. He must have his Indian wife, his
lodge, and his petty conveniences. He is gay and thoughtless,
takes little heed of landmarks, depends upon his leaders and
companions to think for the common weal, and, if left to himself,
is easily perplexed and lost.

The American trapper stands by himself, and is peerless for the
service of the wilderness. Drop him in the midst of a prairie, or
in the heart of the mountains, and he is never at a loss. He
notices every landmark; can retrace his route through the most
monotonous plains, or the most perplexed labyrinths of the
mountains; no danger nor difficulty can appal him, and he scorns
to complain under any privation. In equipping the two kinds of
trappers, the Creole and Canadian are apt to prefer the light
fusee; the American always grasps his rifle; he despises what he
calls the "shot-gun." We give these estimates on the authority of
a trader of long experience, and a foreigner by birth. "I
consider one American," said he, "equal to three Canadians in
point of sagacity, aptness at resources, self-dependence, and
fearlessness of spirit. In fact, no one can cope with him as a
stark tramper of the wilderness."

Beside the two classes of trappers just mentioned, Captain
Bonneville had enlisted several Delaware Indians in his employ,
on whose hunting qualifications he placed great reliance.

On the 6th of May the travellers passed the last border
habitation, and bade a long farewell to the ease and security of
civilization. The buoyant and clamorous spirits with which they
had commenced their march gradually subsided as they entered upon
its difficulties. They found the prairies saturated with the
heavy cold rains, prevalent in certain seasons of the year in
this part of the country, the wagon wheels sank deep in the mire,
the horses were often to the fetlock, and both steed and rider
were completely jaded by the evening of the 12th, when they
reached the Kansas River; a fine stream about three hundred yards
wide, entering the Missouri from the south. Though fordable in
almost every part at the end of summer and during the autumn, yet
it was necessary to construct a raft for the transportation of
the wagons and effects. All this was done in the course of the
following day, and by evening, the whole party arrived at the
agency of the Kansas tribe. This was under the superintendence of
General Clarke, brother of the celebrated traveller of the same
name, who, with Lewis, made the first expedition down the waters
of the Columbia. He was living like a patriarch, surrounded by
laborers and interpreters, all snugly housed, and provided with
excellent farms. The functionary next in consequence to the agent
was the blacksmith, a most important, and, indeed, indispensable
personage in a frontier community. The Kansas resemble the Osages
in features, dress, and language; they raise corn and hunt the
buffalo, ranging the Kansas River, and its tributary streams; at
the time of the captain's visit, they were at war with the
Pawnees of the Nebraska, or Platte River.

The unusual sight of a train of wagons caused quite a sensation
among these savages; who thronged about the caravan, examining
everything minutely, and asking a thousand questions: exhibiting
a degree of excitability, and a lively curiosity totally opposite
to that apathy with which their race is so often reproached.

The personage who most attracted the captain's attention at this
place was "White Plume," the Kansas chief, and they soon became
good friends. White Plume (we are pleased with his chivalrous
soubriquet) inhabited a large stone house, built for him by order
of the American government: but the establishment had not been
carried out in corresponding style. It might be palace without,
but it was wigwam within; so that, between the stateliness of his
mansion and the squalidness of his furniture, the gallant White
Plume presented some such whimsical incongruity as we see in the
gala equipments of an Indian chief on a treaty-making embassy at
Washington, who has been generously decked out in cocked hat and
military coat, in contrast to his breech-clout and leathern
legging; being grand officer at top, and ragged Indian at bottom.

White Plume was so taken with the courtesy of the captain, and
pleased with one or two presents received from him, that he
accompanied him a day's journey on his march, and passed a night
in his camp, on the margin of a small stream. The method of
encamping generally observed by the captain was as follows: The
twenty wagons were disposed in a square, at the distance of
thirty-three feet from each other. In every interval there was a
mess stationed; and each mess had its fire, where the men cooked,
ate, gossiped, and slept. The horses were placed in the centre of
the square, with a guard stationed over them at night.

The horses were "side lined," as it is termed: that is to say,
the fore and hind foot on the same side of the animal were tied
together, so as to be within eighteen inches of each other. A
horse thus fettered is for a time sadly embarrassed, but soon
becomes sufficiently accustomed to the restraint to move about
slowly. It prevents his wandering; and his being easily carried
off at night by lurking Indians. When a horse that is "foot free"
is tied to one thus secured, the latter forms, as it were, a
pivot, round which the other runs and curvets, in case of alarm.
The encampment of which we are speaking presented a striking
scene. The various mess-fires were surrounded by picturesque
groups, standing, sitting, and reclining; some busied in cooking,
others in cleaning their weapons: while the frequent laugh told
that the rough joke or merry story was going on. In the middle of
the camp, before the principal lodge, sat the two chieftains,
Captain Bonneville and White Plume, in soldier-like communion,
the captain delighted with the opportunity of meeting on social
terms with one of the red warriors of the wilderness, the
unsophisticated children of nature. The latter was squatted on
his buffalo robe, his strong features and red skin glaring in the
broad light of a blazing fire, while he recounted astounding
tales of the bloody exploits of his tribe and himself in their
wars with the Pawnees; for there are no old soldiers more given
to long campaigning stories than Indian "braves."

The feuds of White Plume, however, had not been confined to the
red men; he had much to say of brushes with bee hunters, a class
of offenders for whom he seemed to cherish a particular
abhorrence. As the species of hunting prosecuted by these
worthies is not laid down in any of the ancient books of venerie,
and is, in fact, peculiar to our western frontier, a word or two
on the subject may not be unacceptable to the reader.

The bee hunter is generally some settler on the verge of the
prairies; a long, lank fellow, of fever and ague complexion,
acquired from living on new soil, and in a hut built of green
logs. In the autumn, when the harvest is over, these; frontier
settlers form parties of two or three, and prepare for a bee
hunt. Having provided themselves with a wagon, and a number of
empty casks, they sally off, armed with their rifles, into the
wilderness, directing their course east, west, north, or south,
without any regard to the ordinance of the American government,
which strictly forbids all trespass upon the lands belonging to
the Indian tribes.

The belts of woodland that traverse the lower prairies and border
the rivers are peopled by innumerable swarms of wild bees, which
make their hives in hollow trees and fill them with honey tolled
from the rich flowers of the prairies. The bees, according to
popular assertion, are migrating like the settlers, to the west.
An Indian trader, well experienced in the country, informs us
that within ten years that he has passed in the Far West, the bee
has advanced westward above a hundred miles. It is said on the
Missouri, that the wild turkey and the wild bee go up the river
together: neither is found in the upper regions. It is but
recently that the wild turkey has been killed on the Nebraska, or
Platte; and his travelling competitor, the wild bee, appeared
there about the same time.

Be all this as it may: the course of our party of bee hunters is
to make a wide circuit through the woody river bottoms, and the
patches of forest on the prairies, marking, as they go out, every
tree in which they have detected a hive. These marks are
generally respected by any other bee hunter that should come upon
their track. When they have marked sufficient to fill all their
casks, they turn their faces homeward, cut down the trees as they
proceed, and having loaded their wagon with honey and wax, return
well pleased to the settlements.

Now it so happens that the Indians relish wild honey as highly as
do the white men, and are the more delighted with this natural
luxury from its having, in many instances, but recently made its
appearance in their lands. The consequence is numberless disputes
and conflicts between them and the bee hunters: and often a party
of the latter, returning, laden with rich spoil, from one of
their forays, are apt to be waylaid by the native lords of the
soil; their honey to be seized, their harness cut to pieces, and
themselves left to find their way home the best way they can,
happy to escape with no greater personal harm than a sound
rib-roasting.

Such were the marauders of whose offences the gallant White Plume
made the most bitter complaint. They were chiefly the settlers of
the western part of Missouri, who are the most famous bee hunters
on the frontier, and whose favorite hunting ground lies within
the lands of the Kansas tribe. According to the account of White
Plume, however, matters were pretty fairly balanced between him
and the offenders; he having as often treated them to a taste of
the bitter, as they had robbed him of the sweets.

It is but justice to this gallant chief to say that he gave
proofs of having acquired some of the lights of civilization from
his proximity to the whites, as was evinced in his knowledge of
driving a bargain. He required hard cash in return for some corn
with which he supplied the worthy captain, and left the latter at
a loss which most to admire, his native chivalry as a brave, or
his acquired adroitness as a trader.



                               3
                                
  Wide prairies Vegetable productions Tabular hills  Slabs of
     sandstone Nebraska or Platte River Scanty fare Buffalo
    skulls Wagons turned into boats  Herds of buffalo Cliffs
 resembling castles The chimney Scott's Bluffs Story connected
with them The bighorn or ahsahta Its nature and habits Difference
 between that and the "woolly sheep," or goat of the mountains

FROM THE MIDDLE to the end of May, Captain Bonneville pursued a
western course over vast undulating plains, destitute of tree or
shrub, rendered miry by occasional rain, and cut up by deep
water-courses where they had to dig roads for their wagons down
the soft crumbling banks and to throw bridges across the streams.
The weather had attained the summer heat; the thermometer
standing about fifty-seven degrees in the morning, early, but
rising to about ninety degrees at noon. The incessant breezes,
however, which sweep these vast plains render the heats
endurable. Game was scanty, and they had to eke out their scanty
fare with wild roots and vegetables, such as the Indian potato,
the wild onion, and the prairie tomato, and they met with
quantities of "red root," from which the hunters make a very
palatable beverage. The only human being that crossed their path
was a Kansas warrior, returning from some solitary expedition of
bravado or revenge, bearing a Pawnee scalp as a trophy. 

The country gradually rose as they proceeded westward, and their
route took them over high ridges, commanding wide and beautiful
prospects. The vast plain was studded on the west with
innumerable hills of conical shape, such as are seen north of the
Arkansas River. These hills have their summits apparently cut off
about the same elevation, so as to leave flat surfaces at top. It
is conjectured by some that the whole country may originally have
been of the altitude of these tabular hills; but through some
process of nature may have sunk to its present level; these
insulated eminences being protected by broad foundations of solid
rock. 

Captain Bonneville mentions another geological phenomenon north
of Red River, where the surface of the earth, in considerable
tracts of country, is covered with broad slabs of sandstone,
having the form and position of grave-stones, and looking as if
they had been forced up by some subterranean agitation. "The
resemblance," says he, "which these very remarkable spots have in
many places to old church-yards is curious in the extreme. One
might almost fancy himself among the tombs of the pre-Adamites." 

On the 2d of June, they arrived on the main stream of the
Nebraska or Platte River; twenty-five miles below the head of the
Great Island. The low banks of this river give it an appearance
of great width. Captain Bonneville measured it in one place, and
found it twenty-two hundred yards from bank to bank. Its depth
was from three to six feet, the bottom full of quicksands. The
Nebraska is studded with islands covered with that species of
poplar called the cotton-wood tree. Keeping up along the course
of this river for several days, they were obliged, from the
scarcity of game, to put themselves upon short allowance, and,
occasionally, to kill a steer. They bore their daily labors and
privations, however, with great good humor, taking their tone, in
all probability, from the buoyant spirit of their leader. "If the
weather was inclement," said the captain, "we watched the clouds,
and hoped for a sight of the blue sky and the merry sun. If food
was scanty, we regaled ourselves with the hope of soon falling in
with herds of buffalo, and having nothing to do but slay and
eat." We doubt whether the genial captain is not describing the
cheeriness of his own breast, which gave a cheery aspect to
everything around him. 

There certainly were evidences, however, that the country was not
always equally destitute of game. At one place, they observed a
field decorated with buffalo skulls, arranged in circles, curves,
and other mathematical figures, as if for some mystic rite or
ceremony. They were almost innumerable, and seemed to have been a
vast hecatomb offered up in thanksgiving to the Great Spirit for
some signal success in the chase. 

On the 11th of June, they came to the fork of the Nebraska, where
it divides itself into two equal and beautiful streams. One of
these branches rises in the west-southwest, near the headwaters
of the Arkansas. Up the course of this branch, as Captain
Bonneville was well aware, lay the route to the Camanche and
Kioway Indians, and to the northern Mexican settlements; of the
other branch he knew nothing. Its sources might lie among wild
and inaccessible cliffs, and tumble and foam down rugged defiles
and over craggy precipices; but its direction was in the true
course, and up this stream he determined to prosecute his route
to the Rocky Mountains. Finding it impossible, from quicksands
and other dangerous impediments, to cross the river in this
neighborhood, he kept up along the south fork for two days,
merely seeking a safe fording place. At length he encamped,
caused the bodies of the wagons to be dislodged from the wheels,
covered with buffalo hide, and besmeared with a compound of
tallow and ashes; thus forming rude boats. In these, they ferried
their effects across the stream, which was six hundred yards
wide, with a swift and strong current. Three men were in each
boat, to manage it; others waded across pushing the barks before
them. Thus all crossed in safety. A march of nine miles took them
over high rolling prairies to the north fork; their eyes being
regaled with the welcome sight of herds of buffalo at a distance,
some careering the plain, others grazing and reposing in the
natural meadows. 

Skirting along the north fork for a day or two, excessively
annoyed by musquitoes and buffalo gnats, they reached, in the
evening of the 17th, a small but beautiful grove, from which
issued the confused notes of singing birds, the first they had
heard since crossing the boundary of Missouri. After so many days
of weary travelling through a naked, monotonous and silent
country, it was delightful once more to hear the song of the
bird, and to behold the verdure of the grove. It was a beautiful
sunset, and a sight of the glowing rays, mantling the tree-tops
and rustling branches, gladdened every heart. They pitched their
camp in the grove, kindled their fires, partook merrily of their
rude fare, and resigned themselves to the sweetest sleep they had
enjoyed since their outset upon the prairies. 

The country now became rugged and broken. High bluffs advanced
upon the river, and forced the travellers occasionally to leave
its banks and wind their course into the interior. In one of the
wild and solitary passes they were startled by the trail of four
or five pedestrians, whom they supposed to be spies from some
predatory camp of either Arickara or Crow Indians. This obliged
them to redouble their vigilance at night, and to keep especial
watch upon their horses. In these rugged and elevated regions
they began to see the black-tailed deer, a species larger than
the ordinary kind, and chiefly found in rocky and mountainous
countries. They had reached also a great buffalo range; Captain
Bonneville ascended a high bluff, commanding an extensive view of
the surrounding plains. As far as his eye could reach, the
country seemed absolutely blackened by innumerable herds. No
language, he says, could convey an adequate idea of the vast
living mass thus presented to his eye. He remarked that the bulls
and cows generally congregated in separate herds. 

Opposite to the camp at this place was a singular phenomenon,
which is among the curiosities of the country. It is called the
chimney. The lower part is a conical mound, rising out of the
naked plain; from the summit shoots up a shaft or column, about
one hundred and twenty feet in height, from which it derives its
name. The height of the whole, according to Captain Bonneville,
is a hundred and seventy-five yards. It is composed of indurated
clay, with alternate layers of red and white sandstone, and may
be seen at the distance of upward of thirty miles. 

On the 21st, they encamped amidst high and beetling cliffs of
indurated clay and sandstone, bearing the semblance of towers,
castles, churches, and fortified cities. At a distance, it was
scarcely possible to persuade one's self that the works of art
were not mingled with these fantastic freaks of nature. They have
received the name of Scott's Bluffs, from a melancholy
circumstance. A number of years since, a party were descending
the upper part of the river in canoes, when their frail barks
were overturned and all their powder spoiled. Their rifles being
thus rendered useless, they were unable to procure food by
hunting and had to depend upon roots and wild fruits for
subsistence. After suffering extremely from hunger, they arrived
at Laramie's Fork, a small tributary of the north branch of the
Nebraska, about sixty miles above the cliffs just mentioned. Here
one of the party, by the name of Scott, was taken ill; and his
companions came to a halt, until he should recover health and
strength sufficient to proceed. While they were searching round
in quest of edible roots, they discovered a fresh trail of white
men, who had evidently but recently preceded them. What was to be
done? By a forced march they might overtake this party, and thus
be able to reach the settlements in safety. Should they linger,
they might all perish of famine and exhaustion. Scott, however,
was incapable of moving; they were too feeble to aid him forward,
and dreaded that such a clog would prevent their coming up with
the advance party. They determined, therefore, to abandon him to
his fate. Accordingly, under presence of seeking food, and such
simples as might be efficacious in his malady, they deserted him
and hastened forward upon the trail. They succeeded in overtaking
the party of which they were in quest, but concealed their
faithless desertion of Scott; alleging that he had died of
disease.

On the ensuing summer, these very individuals visiting these
parts in company with others, came suddenly upon the bleached
bones and grinning skull of a human skeleton, which, by certain
signs they recognized for the remains of Scott. This was sixty
long miles from the place where they had abandoned him; and it
appeared that the wretched man had crawled that immense distance
before death put an end to his miseries. The wild and picturesque
bluffs in the neighborhood of his lonely grave have ever since
borne his name.

Amidst this wild and striking scenery, Captain Bonneville, for
the first time, beheld flocks of the ahsahta or bighorn, an
animal which frequents these cliffs in great numbers. They accord
with the nature of such scenery, and add much to its romantic
effect; bounding like goats from crag to crag, often trooping
along the lofty shelves of the mountains, under the guidance of
some venerable patriarch with horns twisted lower than his
muzzle, and sometimes peering over the edge of a precipice, so
high that they appear scarce bigger than crows; indeed, it seems
a pleasure to them to seek the most rugged and frightful
situations, doubtless from a feeling of security. 

This animal is commonly called the mountain sheep, and is often
confounded with another animal, the "woolly sheep," found more to
the northward, about the country of the Flatheads. The latter
likewise inhabits cliffs in summer, but descends into the valleys
in the winter. It has white wool, like a sheep, mingled with a
thin growth of long hair; but it has short legs, a deep belly,
and a beard like a goat. Its horns are about five inches long,
slightly curved backwards, black as jet, and beautifully
polished. Its hoofs are of the same color. This animal is by no
means so active as the bighorn; it does not bound much, but sits
a good deal upon its haunches. It is not so plentiful either;
rarely more than two or three are seen at a time. Its wool alone
gives a resemblance to the sheep; it is more properly of the
flesh is said to have a musty flavor; some have thought the
fleece might be valuable, as it is said to be as fine as that of
the goat Cashmere, but it is not to be procured in sufficient
quantities. 

The ahsahta, argali, or bighorn, on the contrary, has short hair
like a deer, and resembles it in shape, but has the head and
horns of a sheep, and its flesh is said to be delicious mutton.
The Indians consider it more sweet and delicate than any other
kind of venison. It abounds in the Rocky Mountains, from the
fiftieth degree of north latitude, quite down to California;
generally in the highest regions capable of vegetation; sometimes
it ventures into the valleys, but on the least alarm, regains its
favorite cliffs and precipices, where it is perilous, if not
impossible for the hunter to follow.



                               4
                                
 An alarm Crow Indians Their appearance Mode of approach Their
vengeful errand Their curiosity Hostility between the Crows and
  Blackfeet  Loving conduct of the Crows Laramie's Fork  First
navigation of the Nebraska Great elevation of the country Rarity
 of the atmosphere Its effect on the wood-work of wagons Black
 Hills Their wild and broken scenery Indian dogs Crow trophies 
  Sterile and dreary country Banks of the Sweet Water Buffalo
         hunting Adventure of Tom Cain the Irish cook 

WHEN ON THE MARCH, Captain Bonneville always sent some of his
best hunters in the advance to reconnoitre the country, as well
as to look out for game. On the 24th of May, as the caravan was
slowly journeying up the banks of the Nebraska, the hunters came
galloping back, waving their caps, and giving the alarm cry,
Indians! Indians!

The captain immediately ordered a halt: the hunters now came up
and announced that a large war-party of Crow Indians were just
above, on the river. The captain knew the character of these
savages; one of the most roving, warlike, crafty, and predatory
tribes of the mountains; horse-stealers of the first order, and
easily provoked to acts of sanguinary violence. Orders were
accordingly given to prepare for action, and every one promptly
took the post that had been assigned him in the general order of
the march, in all cases of warlike emergency.

Everything being put in battle array, the captain took the lead
of his little band, and moved on slowly and warily. In a little
while he beheld the Crow warriors emerging from among the bluffs.
There were about sixty of them; fine martial-looking fellows,
painted and arrayed for war, and mounted on horses decked out
with all kinds of wild trappings. They came prancing along in
gallant style, with many wild and dexterous evolutions, for none
can surpass them in horsemanship; and their bright colors, and
flaunting and fantastic embellishments, glaring and sparkling in
the morning sunshine, gave them really a striking appearance.

Their mode of approach, to one not acquainted with the tactics
and ceremonies of this rude chivalry of the wilderness, had an
air of direct hostility. They came galloping forward in a body,
as if about to make a furious charge, but, when close at hand,
opened to the right and left, and wheeled in wide circles round
the travellers, whooping and yelling like maniacs.

This done, their mock fury sank into a calm, and the chief,
approaching the captain, who had remained warily drawn up, though
informed of the pacific nature of the maneuver, extended to him
the hand of friendship. The pipe of peace was smoked, and now all
was good fellowship.

The Crows were in pursuit of a band of Cheyennes, who had
attacked their village in the night and killed one of their
people. They had already been five and twenty days on the track
of the marauders, and were determined not to return home until
they had sated their revenge.

A few days previously, some of their scouts, who were ranging the
country at a distance from the main body, had discovered the
party of Captain Bonneville. They had dogged it for a time in
secret, astonished at the long train of wagons and oxen, and
especially struck with the sight of a cow and calf, quietly
following the caravan; supposing them to be some kind of tame
buffalo. Having satisfied their curiosity, they carried back to
their chief intelligence of all that they had seen. He had, in
consequence, diverged from his pursuit of vengeance to behold the
wonders described to him. "Now that we have met you," said he to
Captain Bonneville, "and have seen these marvels with our own
eyes, our hearts are glad." In fact, nothing could exceed the
curiosity evinced by these people as to the objects before them.
Wagons had never been seen by them before, and they examined them
with the greatest minuteness; but the calf was the peculiar
object of their admiration. They watched it with intense interest
as it licked the hands accustomed to feed it, and were struck
with the mild expression of its countenance, and its perfect
docility.

After much sage consultation, they at length determined that it
must be the "great medicine" of the white party; an appellation
given by the Indians to anything of supernatural and mysterious
power that is guarded as a talisman. They were completely thrown
out in their conjecture, however, by an offer of the white men to
exchange the calf for a horse; their estimation of the great
medicine sank in an instant, and they declined the bargain.

At the request of the Crow chieftain the two parties encamped
together, and passed the residue of the day in company. The
captain was well pleased with every opportunity to gain a
knowledge of the "unsophisticated sons of nature," who had so
long been objects of his poetic speculations; and indeed this
wild, horse-stealing tribe is one of the most notorious of the
mountains. The chief, of course, had his scalps to show and his
battles to recount. The Blackfoot is the hereditary enemy of the
Crow, toward whom hostility is like a cherished principle of
religion; for every tribe, besides its casual antagonists, has
some enduring foe with whom there can be no permanent
reconciliation. The Crows and Blackfeet, upon the whole, are
enemies worthy of each other, being rogues and ruffians of the
first water. As their predatory excursions extend over the same
regions, they often come in contact with each other, and these
casual conflicts serve to keep their wits awake and their
passions alive.

The present party of Crows, however, evinced nothing of the
invidious character for which they are renowned. During the day
and night that they were encamped in company with the travellers,
their conduct was friendly in the extreme. They were, in fact,
quite irksome in their attentions, and had a caressing manner at
times quite importunate. It was not until after separation on the
following morning that the captain and his men ascertained the
secret of all this loving-kindness. In the course of their
fraternal caresses, the Crows had contrived to empty the pockets
of their white brothers; to abstract the very buttons from their
coats, and, above all, to make free with their hunting knives.

By equal altitudes of the sun, taken at this last encampment,
Captain Bonneville ascertained his latitude to be 41  47' north.
The thermometer, at six o'clock in the morning, stood at
fifty-nine degrees; at two o'clock, P. M., at ninety-two degrees;
and at six o'clock in the evening, at seventy degrees.

The Black Hills, or Mountains, now began to be seen at a
distance, printing the horizon with their rugged and broken
outlines; and threatening to oppose a difficult barrier in the
way of the travellers.

On the 26th of May, the travellers encamped at Laramie's Fork, a
clear and beautiful stream, rising in the west-southwest,
maintaining an average width of twenty yards, and winding through
broad meadows abounding in currants and gooseberries, and adorned
with groves and clumps of trees.

By an observation of Jupiter's satellites, with a Dolland
reflecting telescope, Captain Bonneville ascertained the
longitude to be 102  57' west of Greenwich.

We will here step ahead of our narrative to observe that about
three years after the time of which we are treating, Mr. Robert
Campbell, formerly of the Rocky Mountain Fur Company, descended
the Platte from this fork, in skin canoes, thus proving, what had
always been discredited, that the river was navigable. About the
same time, he built a fort or trading post at Laramie's Fork,
which he named Fort William, after his friend and partner, Mr.
William Sublette. Since that time, the Platte has become a
highway for the fur traders.

For some days past, Captain Bonneville had been made sensible of
the great elevation of country into which he was gradually
ascending by the effect of the dryness and rarefaction of the
atmosphere upon his wagons. The wood-work shrunk; the paint boxes
of the wheels were continually working out, and it was necessary
to support the spokes by stout props to prevent their falling
asunder. The travellers were now entering one of those great
steppes of the Far West, where the prevalent aridity of the
atmosphere renders the country unfit for cultivation. In these
regions there is a fresh sweet growth of grass in the spring, but
it is scanty and short, and parches up in the course of the
summer, so that there is none for the hunters to set fire to in
the autumn. It is a common observation that "above the forks of
the Platte the grass does not burn." All attempts at agriculture
and gardening in the neighborhood of Fort William have been
attended with very little success. The grain and vegetables
raised there have been scanty in quantity and poor in quality.
The great elevation of these plains, and the dryness of the
atmosphere, will tend to retain these immense regions in a state
of pristine wildness.

In the course of a day or two more, the travellers entered that
wild and broken tract of the Crow country called the Black Hills,
and here their journey became toilsome in the extreme. Rugged
steeps and deep ravines incessantly obstructed their progress, so
that a great part of the day was spent in the painful toil of
digging through banks, filling up ravines, forcing the wagons up
the most forbidding ascents, or swinging them with ropes down the
face of dangerous precipices. The shoes of their horses were worn
out, and their feet injured by the rugged and stony roads. The
travellers were annoyed also by frequent but brief storms, which
would come hurrying over the hills, or through the mountain
defiles, rage with great fury for a short time, and then pass
off, leaving everything calm and serene again.

For several nights the camp had been infested by vagabond Indian
dogs, prowling about in quest of food. They were about the size
of a large pointer; with ears short and erect, and a long bushy
tail--altogether, they bore a striking resemblance to a wolf.
These skulking visitors would keep about the purlieus of the camp
until daylight; when, on the first stir of life among the
sleepers, they would scamper off until they reached some rising
ground, where they would take their seats, and keep a sharp and
hungry watch upon every movement. The moment the travellers were
fairly on the march, and the camp was abandoned, these starving
hangers-on would hasten to the deserted fires, to seize upon the
half-picked bones, the offal and garbage that lay about; and,
having made a hasty meal, with many a snap and snarl and growl,
would follow leisurely on the trail of the caravan. Many attempts
were made to coax or catch them, but in vain. Their quick and
suspicious eyes caught the slightest sinister movement, and they
turned and scampered off. At length one was taken. He was
terribly alarmed, and crouched and trembled as if expecting
instant death. Soothed, however, by caresses, he began after a
time to gather confidence and wag his tail, and at length was
brought to follow close at the heels of his captors, still,
however, darting around furtive and suspicious glances, and
evincing a disposition to scamper off upon the least alarm.

On the first of July the band of Crow warriors again crossed
their path. They came in vaunting and vainglorious style;
displaying five Cheyenne scalps, the trophies of their vengeance.
They were now bound homewards, to appease the manes of their
comrade by these proofs that his death had been revenged, and
intended to have scalp-dances and other triumphant rejoicings.
Captain Bonneville and his men, however, were by no means
disposed to renew their confiding intimacy with these crafty
savages, and above all, took care to avoid their pilfering
caresses. They remarked one precaution of the Crows with respect
to their horses; to protect their hoofs from the sharp and jagged
rocks among which they had to pass, they had covered them with
shoes of buffalo hide.

The route of the travellers lay generally along the course of the
Nebraska or Platte, but occasionally, where steep promontories
advanced to the margin of the stream, they were obliged to make
inland circuits. One of these took them through a bold and stern
country, bordered by a range of low mountains, running east and
west.  Everything around bore traces of some fearful convulsion
of nature in times long past. Hitherto the various strata of rock
had exhibited a gentle elevation toward the southwest, but here
everything appeared to have been subverted, and thrown out of
place. In many places there were heavy beds of white sandstone
resting upon red. Immense strata of rocks jutted up into crags
and cliffs; and sometimes formed perpendicular walls and
overhanging precipices. An air of sterility prevailed over these
savage wastes. The valleys were destitute of herbage, and
scantily clothed with a stunted species of wormwood, generally
known among traders and trappers by the name of sage. From an
elevated point of their march through this region, the travellers
caught a beautiful view of the Powder River Mountains away to the
north, stretching along the very verge of the horizon, and
seeming, from the snow with which they were mantled, to be a
chain of small white clouds, connecting sky and earth.

Though the thermometer at mid-day ranged from eighty to ninety,
and even sometimes rose to ninety-three degrees, yet occasional
spots of snow were to be seen on the tops of the low mountains,
among which the travellers were journeying; proofs of the great
elevation of the whole region.

The Nebraska, in its passage through the Black Hills, is confined
to a much narrower channel than that through which it flows n the
plains below; but it is deeper and clearer, and rushes with a
stronger current. The scenery, also, is more varied and
beautiful. Sometimes it glides rapidly but smoothly through a
picturesque valley, between wooded banks; then, forcing its way
into the bosom of rugged mountains, it rushes impetuously through
narrow defiles, roaring and foaming down rocks and rapids, until
it is again soothed to rest in some peaceful valley.

On the 12th of July, Captain Bonneville abandoned the main stream
of the Nebraska, which was continually shouldered by rugged
promontories, and making a bend to the southwest, for a couple of
days, part of the time over plains of loose sand, encamped on the
14th on the banks of the Sweet Water, a stream about twenty yards
in breadth, and four or five feet deep, flowing between low banks
over a sandy soil, and forming one of the forks or upper branches
of the Nebraska. Up this stream they now shaped their course for
several successive days, tending, generally, to the west. The
soil was light and sandy; the country much diversified.
Frequently the plains were studded with isolated blocks of rock,
sometimes in the shape of a half globe, and from three to four
hundred feet high. These singular masses had occasionally a very
imposing, and even sublime appearance, rising from the midst of a
savage and lonely landscape.

As the travellers continued to advance, they became more and more
sensible of the elevation of the country. The hills around were
more generally capped with snow. The men complained of cramps and
colics, sore lips and mouths, and violent headaches. The
wood-work of the wagons also shrank so much that it was with
difficulty the wheels were kept from falling to pieces. The
country bordering upon the river was frequently gashed with deep
ravines, or traversed by high bluffs, to avoid which, the
travellers were obliged to make wide circuits through the plains.
In the course of these, they came upon immense herds of buffalo,
which kept scouring off in the van, like a retreating army.

Among the motley retainers of the camp was Tom Cain, a raw
Irishman, who officiated as cook, whose various blunders and
expedients in his novel situation, and in the wild scenes and
wild kind of life into which he had suddenly been thrown, had
made him a kind of butt or droll of the camp. Tom, however, began
to discover an ambition superior to his station; and the
conversation of the hunters, and their stories of their exploits,
inspired him with a desire to elevate himself to the dignity of
their order. The buffalo in such immense droves presented a
tempting opportunity for making his first essay. He rode, in the
line of march, all prepared for action: his powder-flask and
shot-pouch knowingly slung at the pommel of his saddle, to be at
hand; his rifle balanced on his shoulder. While in this plight, a
troop of Buffalo came trotting by in great alarm. In an instant,
Tom sprang from his horse and gave chase on foot. Finding they
were leaving him behind, he levelled his rifle and pulled [the]
trigger. His shot produced no other effect than to increase the
speed of the buffalo, and to frighten his own horse, who took to
his heels, and scampered off with all the ammunition. Tom
scampered after him, hallooing with might and main, and the wild
horse and wild Irishman soon disappeared among the ravines of the
prairie. Captain Bonneville, who was at the head of the line, and
had seen the transaction at a distance, detached a party in
pursuit of Tom. After a long interval they returned, leading the
frightened horse; but though they had scoured the country, and
looked out and shouted from every height, they had seen nothing
of his rider.

As Captain Bonneville knew Tom's utter awkwardness and
inexperience, and the dangers of a bewildered Irishman in the
midst of a prairie, he halted and encamped at an early hour, that
there might be a regular hunt for him in the morning.

At early dawn on the following day scouts were sent off in every
direction, while the main body, after breakfast, proceeded slowly
on its course. It was not until the middle of the afternoon that
the hunters returned, with honest Tom mounted behind one of them.
They had found him in a complete state of perplexity and
amazement. His appearance caused shouts of merriment in the
camp,--but Tom for once could not join in the mirth raised at his
expense: he was completely chapfallen, and apparently cured of
the hunting mania for the rest of his life.



                               5
                                
 Magnificent scenery Wind River Mountains Treasury of waters A
stray horse An Indian trail  Trout streams The Great Green River
      Valley  An alarm A band of trappers Fontenelle, his
  information Sufferings of thirst Encampment on the Seeds-ke-
  dee Strategy of rival traders  Fortification of the camp The
 Blackfeet Banditti of the mountains Their character and habits

IT WAS ON THE 20TH of July that Captain Bonneville first came in
sight of the grand region of his hopes and anticipations, the
Rocky Mountains. He had been making a bend to the south, to avoid
some obstacles along the river, and had attained a high, rocky
ridge, when a magnificent prospect burst upon his sight. To the
west rose the Wind River Mountains, with their bleached and snowy
summits towering into the clouds. These stretched far to the
north-northwest, until they melted away into what appeared to be
faint clouds, but which the experienced eyes of the veteran
hunters of the party recognized for the rugged mountains of the
Yellowstone; at the feet of which extended the wild Crow country:
a perilous, though profitable region for the trapper.

To the southwest, the eye ranged over an immense extent of
wilderness, with what appeared to be a snowy vapor resting upon
its horizon. This, however, was pointed out as another branch of
the Great Chippewyan, or Rocky chain; being the Eutaw Mountains,
at whose basis the wandering tribe of hunters of the same name
pitch their tents. We can imagine the enthusiasm of the worthy
captain when he beheld the vast and mountainous scene of his
adventurous enterprise thus suddenly unveiled before him. We can
imagine with what feelings of awe and admiration he must have
contemplated the Wind River Sierra, or bed of mountains; that
great fountainhead from whose springs, and lakes, and melted
snows some of those mighty rivers take their rise, which wander
over hundreds of miles of varied country and clime, and find
their way to the opposite waves of the Atlantic and the Pacific.

The Wind River Mountains are, in fact, among the most remarkable
of the whole Rocky chain; and would appear to be among the
loftiest. They form, as it were, a great bed of mountains, about
eighty miles in length, and from twenty to thirty in breadth;
with rugged peaks, covered with eternal snows, and deep, narrow
valleys full of springs, and brooks, and rock-bound lakes. From
this great treasury of waters issue forth limpid streams, which,
augmenting as they descend, become main tributaries of the
Missouri on the one side, and the Columbia on the other; and give
rise to the Seeds-ke-dee Agie, or Green River, the great Colorado
of the West, that empties its current into the Gulf of
California.

The Wind River Mountains are notorious in hunters' and trappers'
stories: their rugged defiles, and the rough tracts about their
neighborhood, having been lurking places for the predatory hordes
of the mountains, and scenes of rough encounter with Crows and
Blackfeet. It was to the west of these mountains, in the valley
of the Seeds-ke-dee Agie, or Green River, that Captain Bonneville
intended to make a halt for the purpose of giving repose to his
people and his horses after their weary journeying; and of
collecting information as to his future course. This Green River
valley, and its immediate neighborhood, as we have already
observed, formed the main point of rendezvous, for the present
year, of the rival fur companies, and the motley populace,
civilized and savage, connected with them. Several days of rugged
travel, however, yet remained for the captain and his men before
they should encamp in this desired resting-place.

On the 21st of July, as they were pursuing their course through
one of the meadows of the Sweet Water, they beheld a horse
grazing at a little distance. He showed no alarm at their
approach, but suffered himself quietly to be taken, evincing a
perfect state of tameness. The scouts of the party were instantly
on the look-out for the owners of this animal; lest some
dangerous band of savages might be lurking in the vicinity. After
a narrow search, they discovered the trail of an Indian party,
which had evidently passed through that neighborhood but
recently. The horse was accordingly taken possession of, as an
estray; but a more vigilant watch than usual was kept round the
camp at nights, lest his former owners should be upon the prowl.

The travellers had now attained so high an elevation that on the
23d of July, at daybreak, there was considerable ice in the
waterbuckets, and the thermometer stood at twenty-two degrees.
The rarefy of the atmosphere continued to affect the wood-work of
the wagons, and the wheels were incessantly falling to pieces. A
remedy was at length devised. The tire of each wheel was taken
off; a band of wood was nailed round the exterior of the felloes,
the tire was then made red hot, replaced round the wheel, and
suddenly cooled with water. By this means, the whole was bound
together with great compactness.

The extreme elevation of these great steppes, which range along
the feet of the Rocky Mountains, takes away from the seeming
height of their peaks, which yield to few in the known world in
point of altitude above the level of the sea.

On the 24th, the travellers took final leave of the Sweet Water,
and keeping westwardly, over a low and very rocky ridge, one of
the most southern spurs of the Wind River Mountains, they
encamped, after a march of seven hours and a half, on the banks
of a small clear stream, running to the south, in which they
caught a number of fine trout.

The sight of these fish was hailed with pleasure, as a sign that
they had reached the waters which flow into the Pacific; for it
is only on the western streams of the Rocky Mountains that trout
are to be taken. The stream on which they had thus encamped
proved, in effect, to be tributary to the Seeds-ke-dee Agie, or
Green River, into which it flowed at some distance to the south.

Captain Bonneville now considered himself as having fairly passed
the crest of the Rocky Mountains; and felt some degree of
exultation in being the first individual that had crossed, north
of the settled provinces of Mexico, from the waters of the
Atlantic to those of the Pacific, with wagons. Mr. William
Sublette, the enterprising leader of the Rocky Mountain Fur
Company, had, two or three years previously, reached the valley
of the Wind River, which lies on the northeast of the mountains;
but had proceeded with them no further.

A vast valley now spread itself before the travellers, bounded on
one side by the Wind River Mountains, and to the west, by a long
range of high hills. This, Captain Bonneville was assured by a
veteran hunter in his company, was the great valley of the
Seedske-dee; and the same informant would have fain persuaded him
that a small stream, three feet deep, which he came to on the
25th, was that river. The captain was convinced, however, that
the stream was too insignificant to drain so wide a valley and
the adjacent mountains: he encamped, therefore, at an early hour,
on its borders, that he might take the whole of the next day to
reach the main river; which he presumed to flow between him and
the distant range of western hills.

On the 26th of July, he commenced his march at an early hour,
making directly across the valley, toward the hills in the west;
proceeding at as brisk a rate as the jaded condition of his
horses would permit. About eleven o'clock in the morning, a great
cloud of dust was descried in the rear, advancing directly on the
trail of the party. The alarm was given; they all came to a halt,
and held a council of war. Some conjectured that the band of
Indians, whose trail they had discovered in the neighborhood of
the stray horse, had been lying in wait for them in some secret
fastness of the mountains; and were about to attack them on the
open plain, where they would have no shelter. Preparations were
immediately made for defence; and a scouting party sent off to
reconnoitre. They soon came galloping back, making signals that
all was well. The cloud of dust was made by a band of fifty or
sixty mounted trappers, belonging to the American Fur Company,
who soon came up, leading their pack-horses. They were headed by
Mr. Fontenelle, an experienced leader, or "partisan," as a chief
of a party is called in the technical language of the trappers.

Mr. Fontenelle informed Captain Bonneville that he was on his way
from the company's trading post on the Yellowstone to the yearly
rendezvous, with reinforcements and supplies for their hunting
and trading parties beyond the mountains; and that he expected to
meet, by appointment, with a band of free trappers in that very
neighborhood. He had fallen upon the trail of Captain
Bonneville's party, just after leaving the Nebraska; and, finding
that they had frightened off all the game, had been obliged to
push on, by forced marches, to avoid famine: both men and horses
were, therefore, much travel-worn; but this was no place to halt;
the plain before them he said was destitute of grass and water,
neither of which would be met with short of the Green River,
which was yet at a considerable distance. He hoped, he added, as
his party were all on horseback, to reach the river, with hard
travelling, by nightfall: but he doubted the possibility of
Captain Bonneville's arrival there with his wagons before the day
following. Having imparted this information, he pushed forward
with all speed.

Captain Bonneville followed on as fast as circumstances would
permit. The ground was firm and gravelly; but the horses were too
much fatigued to move rapidly. After a long and harassing day's
march, without pausing for a noontide meal, they were compelled,
at nine o'clock at night, to encamp in an open plain, destitute
of water or pasturage. On the following morning, the horses were
turned loose at the peep of day; to slake their thirst, if
possible, from the dew collected on the sparse grass, here and
there springing up among dry sand-banks. The soil of a great part
of this Green River valley is a whitish clay, into which the rain
cannot penetrate, but which dries and cracks with the sun. In
some places it produces a salt weed, and grass along the margins
of the streams; but the wider expanses of it are desolate and
barren. It was not until noon that Captain Bonneville reached the
banks of the Seeds-ke-dee, or Colorado of the West; in the
meantime, the sufferings of both men and horses had been
excessive, and it was with almost frantic eagerness that they
hurried to allay their burning thirst in the limpid current of
the river.

Fontenelle and his party had not fared much better; the chief
part had managed to reach the river by nightfall, but were nearly
knocked up by the exertion; the horses of others sank under them,
and they were obliged to pass the night upon the road.

On the following morning, July 27th, Fontenelle moved his camp
across the river; while Captain Bonneville proceeded some little
distance below, where there was a small but fresh meadow yielding
abundant pasturage. Here the poor jaded horses were turned out to
graze, and take their rest: the weary journey up the mountains
had worn them down in flesh and spirit; but this last march
across the thirsty plain had nearly finished them.

The captain had here the first taste of the boasted strategy of
the fur trade. During his brief, but social encampment, in
company with Fontenelle, that experienced trapper had managed to
win over a number of Delaware Indians whom the captain had
brought with him, by offering them four hundred dollars each for
the ensuing autumnal hunt. The captain was somewhat astonished
when he saw these hunters, on whose services he had calculated
securely, suddenly pack up their traps, and go over to the rival
camp. That he might in some measure, however, be even with his
competitor, he dispatched two scouts to look out for the band of
free trappers who were to meet Fontenelle in this neighborhood,
and to endeavor to bring them to his camp.

As it would be necessary to remain some time in this
neighborhood, that both men and horses might repose, and recruit
their strength; and as it was a region full of danger, Captain
Bonneville proceeded to fortify his camp with breastworks of logs
and pickets.

These precautions were, at that time, peculiarly necessary, from
the bands of Blackfeet Indians which were roving about the
neighborhood. These savages are the most dangerous banditti of
the mountains, and the inveterate foe of the trappers. They are
Ishmaelites of the first order, always with weapon in hand, ready
for action. The young braves of the tribe, who are destitute of
property, go to war for booty; to gain horses, and acquire the
means of setting up a lodge, supporting a family, and entitling
themselves to a seat in the public councils. The veteran warriors
fight merely for the love of the thing, and the consequence which
success gives them among their people.

They are capital horsemen, and are generally well mounted on
short, stout horses, similar to the prairie ponies to be met with
at St. Louis. When on a war party, however, they go on foot, to
enable them to skulk through the country with greater secrecy; to
keep in thickets and ravines, and use more adroit subterfuges and
stratagems. Their mode of warfare is entirely by ambush,
surprise, and sudden assaults in the night time. If they succeed
in causing a panic, they dash forward with headlong fury: if the
enemy is on the alert, and shows no signs of fear, they become
wary and deliberate in their movements.

Some of them are armed in the primitive style, with bows and
arrows; the greater part have American fusees, made after the
fashion of those of the Hudson's Bay Company. These they procure
at the trading post of the American Fur Company, on Marias River,
where they traffic their peltries for arms, ammunition, clothing,
and trinkets. They are extremely fond of spirituous liquors and
tobacco; for which nuisances they are ready to exchange not
merely their guns and horses, but even their wives and daughters.
As they are a treacherous race, and have cherished a lurking
hostility to the whites ever since one of their tribe was killed
by Mr. Lewis, the associate of General Clarke, in his exploring
expedition across the Rocky Mountains, the American Fur Company
is obliged constantly to keep at that post a garrison of sixty or
seventy men.

Under the general name of Blackfeet are comprehended several
tribes: such as the Surcies, the Peagans, the Blood Indians, and
the Gros Ventres of the Prairies: who roam about the southern
branches of the Yellowstone and Missouri Rivers, together with
some other tribes further north.

The bands infesting the Wind River Mountains and the country
adjacent at the time of which we are treating, were Gros Ventres
of the Prairies, which are not to be confounded with Gros Ventres
of the Missouri, who keep about the lower part of that river, and
are friendly to the white men.

This hostile band keeps about the headwaters of the Missouri, and
numbers about nine hundred fighting men. Once in the course of
two or three years they abandon their usual abodes, and make a
visit to the Arapahoes of the Arkansas. Their route lies either
through the Crow country, and the Black Hills, or through the
lands of the Nez Perces, Flatheads, Bannacks, and Shoshonies. As
they enjoy their favorite state of hostility with all these
tribes, their expeditions are prone to be conducted in the most
lawless and predatory style; nor do they hesitate to extend their
maraudings to any party of white men they meet with; following
their trails; hovering about their camps; waylaying and dogging
the caravans of the free traders, and murdering the solitary
trapper. The consequences are frequent and desperate fights
between them and the "mountaineers," in the wild defiles and
fastnesses of the Rocky Mountains.

The band in question was, at this time, on their way homeward
from one of their customary visits to the Arapahoes; and in the
ensuing chapter we shall treat of some bloody encounters between
them and the trappers, which had taken place just before the
arrival of Captain Bonneville among the mountains.



                               6
                                
                                
                                
 Sublette and his band Robert Campbell Mr. Wyeth and a band of
"down-easters"  Yankee enterprise  Fitzpatrick His adventure with
the Blackfeet A rendezvous of mountaineers The battle of Pierre's
           Hole An Indian ambuscade Sublette's return


LEAVING CAPTAIN BONNEVILLE and his band ensconced within their
fortified camp in the Green River valley, we shall step back and
accompany a party of the Rocky Mountain Fur Company in its
progress, with supplies from St. Louis, to the annual rendezvous
at Pierre's Hole. This party consisted of sixty men, well
mounted, and conducting a line of packhorses. They were commanded
by Captain William Sublette, a partner in the company, and one of
the most active, intrepid, and renowned leaders in this half
military kind of service. He was accompanied by his associate in
business, and tried companion in danger, Mr. Robert Campbell, one
of the pioneers of the trade beyond the mountains, who had
commanded trapping parties there in times of the greatest peril.

As these worthy compeers were on their route to the frontier,
they fell in with another expedition, likewise on its way to the
mountains. This was a party of regular "down-easters," that is to
say, people of New England, who, with the all-penetrating and
all-pervading spirit of their race, were now pushing their way
into a new field of enterprise with which they were totally
unacquainted. The party had been fitted out and was maintained
and commanded by Mr. Nathaniel J. Wyeth, of Boston. This
gentleman had conceived an idea that a profitable fishery for
salmon might be established on the Columbia River, and connected
with the fur trade. He had, accordingly, invested capital in
goods, calculated, as he supposed, for the Indian trade, and had
enlisted a number of eastern men in his employ, who had never
been in the Far West, nor knew anything of the wilderness. With
these, he was bravely steering his way across the continent,
undismayed by danger, difficulty, or distance, in the same way
that a New England coaster and his neighbors will coolly launch
forth on a voyage to the Black Sea, or a whaling cruise to the
Pacific.

With all their national aptitude at expedient and resource, Wyeth
and his men felt themselves completely at a loss when they
reached the frontier, and found that the wilderness required
experience and habitudes of which they were totally deficient.
Not one of the party, excepting the leader, had ever seen an
Indian or handled a rifle; they were without guide or
interpreter, and totally unacquainted with "wood craft" and the
modes of making their way among savage hordes, and subsisting
themselves during long marches over wild mountains and barren
plains.

In this predicament, Captain Sublette found them, in a manner
becalmed, or rather run aground, at the little frontier town of
Independence, in Missouri, and kindly took them in tow. The two
parties travelled amicably together; the frontier men of
Sublette's party gave their Yankee comrades some lessons in
hunting, and some insight into the art and mystery of dealing
with the Indians, and they all arrived without accident at the
upper branches of the Nebraska or Platte River.

In the course of their march, Mr. Fitzpatrick, the partner of the
company who was resident at that time beyond the mountains, came
down from the rendezvous at Pierre's Hole to meet them and hurry
them forward. He travelled in company with them until they
reached the Sweet Water; then taking a couple of horses, one for
the saddle, and the other as a pack-horse, he started off express
for Pierre's Hole, to make arrangements against their arrival,
that he might commence his hunting campaign before the rival
company.

Fitzpatrick was a hardy and experienced mountaineer, and knew all
the passes and defiles. As he was pursuing his lonely course up
the Green River valley, he described several horsemen at a
distance, and came to a halt to reconnoitre. He supposed them to
be some detachment from the rendezvous, or a party of friendly
Indians. They perceived him, and setting up the war-whoop, dashed
forward at full speed: he saw at once his mistake and his
peril--they were Blackfeet. Springing upon his fleetest horse,
and abandoning the other to the enemy, he made for the mountains,
and succeeded in escaping up one of the most dangerous defiles.
Here he concealed himself until he thought the Indians had gone
off, when he returned into the valley. He was again pursued, lost
his remaining horse, and only escaped by scrambling up among the
cliffs. For several days he remained lurking among rocks and
precipices, and almost famished, having but one remaining charge
in his rifle, which he kept for self-defence.

In the meantime, Sublette and Campbell, with their fellow
traveller, Wyeth, had pursued their march unmolested, and arrived
in the Green River valley, totally unconscious that there was any
lurking enemy at hand. They had encamped one night on the banks
of a small stream, which came down from the Wind River Mountains,
when about midnight, a band of Indians burst upon their camp,
with horrible yells and whoops, and a discharge of guns and
arrows. Happily no other harm was done than wounding one mule,
and causing several horses to break loose from their pickets. The
camp was instantly in arms; but the Indians retreated with yells
of exultation, carrying off several of the horses under cover of
the night.

This was somewhat of a disagreeable foretaste of mountain life to
some of Wyeth's band, accustomed only to the regular and peaceful
life of New England; nor was it altogether to the taste of
Captain Sublette's men, who were chiefly creoles and townsmen
from St. Louis. They continued their march the next morning,
keeping scouts ahead and upon their flanks, and arrived without
further molestation at Pierre's Hole.

The first inquiry of Captain Sublette, on reaching the
rendezvous, was for Fitzpatrick. He had not arrived, nor had any
intelligence been received concerning him. Great uneasiness was
now entertained, lest he should have fallen into the hands of the
Blackfeet who had made the midnight attack upon the camp. It was
a matter of general joy, therefore, when he made his appearance,
conducted by two half-breed Iroquois hunters. He had lurked for
several days among the mountains, until almost starved; at length
he escaped the vigilance of his enemies in the night, and was so
fortunate as to meet the two Iroquois hunters, who, being on
horseback, conveyed him without further difficulty to the
rendezvous. He arrived there so emaciated that he could scarcely
be recognized.

The valley called Pierre's Hole is about thirty miles in length
and fifteen in width, bounded to the west and south by low and
broken ridges, and overlooked to the east by three lofty
mountains, called the three Tetons, which domineer as landmarks
over a vast extent of country.

A fine stream, fed by rivulets and mountain springs, pours
through the valley toward the north, dividing it into nearly
equal parts. The meadows on its borders are broad and extensive,
covered with willow and cotton-wood trees, so closely interlocked
and matted together as to be nearly impassable.

In this valley was congregated the motley populace connected with
the fur trade. Here the two rival companies had their
encampments, with their retainers of all kinds: traders,
trappers, hunters, and half-breeds, assembled from all quarters,
awaiting their yearly supplies, and their orders to start off in
new directions. Here, also, the savage tribes connected with the
trade, the Nez Perces or Chopunnish Indians, and Flatheads, had
pitched their lodges beside the streams, and with their squaws,
awaited the distribution of goods and finery. There was,
moreover, a band of fifteen free trappers, commanded by a gallant
leader from Arkansas, named Sinclair, who held their encampment a
little apart from the rest. Such was the wild and heterogeneous
assemblage, amounting to several hundred men, civilized and
savage, distributed in tents and lodges in the several camps.

The arrival of Captain Sublette with supplies put the Rocky
Mountain Fur Company in full activity. The wares and merchandise
were quickly opened, and as quickly disposed of to trappers and
Indians; the usual excitement and revelry took place, after which
all hands began to disperse to their several destinations.

On the 17th of July, a small brigade of fourteen trappers, led by
Milton Sublette, brother of the captain, set out with the
intention of proceeding to the southwest. They were accompanied
by Sinclair and his fifteen free trappers; Wyeth, also, and his
New England band of beaver hunters and salmon fishers, now
dwindled down to eleven, took this opportunity to prosecute their
cruise in the wilderness, accompanied with such experienced
pilots. On the first day, they proceeded about eight miles to the
southeast, and encamped for the night, still in the valley of
Pierre's Hole. On the following morning, just as they were
raising their camp, they observed a long line of people pouring
down a defile of the mountains. They at first supposed them to be
Fontenelle and his party, whose arrival had been daily expected.
Wyeth, however, reconnoitred them with a spy-glass, and soon
perceived they were Indians. They were divided into two parties,
forming, in the whole, about one hundred and fifty persons, men,
women, and children. Some were on horseback, fantastically
painted and arrayed, with scarlet blankets fluttering in the
wind. The greater part, however, were on foot. They had perceived
the trappers before they were themselves discovered, and came
down yelling and whooping into the plain. On nearer approach,
they were ascertained to be Blackfeet.

One of the trappers of Sublette's brigade, a half-breed named
Antoine Godin, now mounted his horse, and rode forth as if to
hold a conference. He was the son of an Iroquois hunter, who had
been cruelly murdered by the Blackfeet at a small stream below
the mountains, which still bears his name. In company with
Antoine rode forth a Flathead Indian, whose once powerful tribe
had been completely broken down in their wars with the Blackfeet.
Both of them, therefore, cherished the most vengeful hostility
against these marauders of the mountains. The Blackfeet came to a
halt. One of the chiefs advanced singly and unarmed, bearing the
pipe of peace. This overture was certainly pacific; but Antoine
and the Flathead were predisposed to hostility, and pretended to
consider it a treacherous movement.

"Is your piece charged?" said Antoine to his red companion.

"It is."

"Then cock it, and follow me."

They met the Blackfoot chief half way, who extended his hand in
friendship. Antoine grasped it.

"Fire! " cried he.

The Flathead levelled his piece, and brought the Blackfoot to the
ground. Antoine snatched off his scarlet blanket, which was
richly ornamented, and galloped off with it as a trophy to the
camp, the bullets of the enemy whistling after him. The Indians
immediately threw themselves into the edge of a swamp, among
willows and cotton-wood trees, interwoven with vines. Here they
began to fortify themselves; the women digging a trench, and
throwing up a breastwork of logs and branches, deep hid in the
bosom of the wood, while the warriors skirmished at the edge to
keep the trappers at bay.

The latter took their station in a ravine in front, whence they
kept up a scattering fire. As to Wyeth, and his little band of
"downeasters," they were perfectly astounded by this second
specimen of life in the wilderness; the men, being especially
unused to bushfighting and the use of the rifle, were at a loss
how to proceed. Wyeth, however, acted as a skilful commander. He
got all his horses into camp and secured them; then, making a
breastwork of his packs of goods, he charged his men to remain in
garrison, and not to stir out of their fort. For himself, he
mingled with the other leaders, determined to take his share in
the conflict.

In the meantime, an express had been sent off to the rendezvous
for reinforcements. Captain Sublette, and his associate,
Campbell, were at their camp when the express came galloping
across the plain, waving his cap, and giving the alarm;
"Blackfeet! Blackfeet! a fight in the upper part of the
valley!--to arms! to arms!"

The alarm was passed from camp to camp. It was a common cause.
Every one turned out with horse and rifle. The Nez Perces and
Flatheads joined. As fast as horseman could arm and mount he
galloped off; the valley was soon alive with white men and red
men scouring at full speed.

Sublette ordered his men to keep to the camp, being recruits from
St. Louis, and unused to Indian warfare. He and his friend
Campbell prepared for action. Throwing off their coats, rolling
up their sleeves, and arming themselves with pistols and rifles,
they mounted their horses and dashed forward among the first. As
they rode along, they made their wills in soldier-like style;
each stating how his effects should be disposed of in case of his
death, and appointing the other his executor.

The Blackfeet warriors had supposed the brigade of Milton
Sublette all the foes they had to deal with, and were astonished
to behold the whole valley suddenly swarming with horsemen,
galloping to the field of action. They withdrew into their fort,
which was completely hid from sight in the dark and tangled wood.
Most of their women and children had retreated to the mountains.
The trappers now sallied forth and approached the swamp, firing
into the thickets at random; the Blackfeet had a better sight at
their adversaries, who were in the open field, and a half-breed
was wounded in the shoulder.

When Captain Sublette arrived, he urged to penetrate the swamp
and storm the fort, but all hung back in awe of the dismal
horrors of the place, and the danger of attacking such
desperadoes in their savage den. The very Indian allies, though
accustomed to bushfighting, regarded it as almost impenetrable,
and full of frightful danger. Sublette was not to be turned from
his purpose, but offered to lead the way into the swamp. Campbell
stepped forward to accompany him. Before entering the perilous
wood, Sublette took his brothers aside, and told them that in
case he fell, Campbell, who knew his will, was to be his
executor. This done, he grasped his rifle and pushed into the
thickets, followed by Campbell. Sinclair, the partisan from
Arkansas, was at the edge of the wood with his brother and a few
of his men. Excited by the gallant example of the two friends, he
pressed forward to share their dangers.

The swamp was produced by the labors of the beaver, which, by
damming up a stream, had inundated a portion of the valley. The
place was all overgrown with woods and thickets, so closely
matted and entangled that it was impossible to see ten paces
ahead, and the three associates in peril had to crawl along, one
after another, making their way by putting the branches and vines
aside; but doing it with caution, lest they should attract the
eye of some lurking marksman. They took the lead by turns, each
advancing about twenty yards at a time, and now and then
hallooing to their men to follow. Some of the latter gradually
entered the swamp, and followed a little distance in their rear.

They had now reached a more open part of the wood, and had
glimpses of the rude fortress from between the trees. It was a
mere breastwork, as we have said, of logs and branches, with
blankets, buffalo robes, and the leathern covers of lodges,
extended round the top as a screen. The movements of the leaders,
as they groped their way, had been descried by the sharp-sighted
enemy. As Sinclair, who was in the advance, was putting some
branches aside, he was shot through the body. He fell on the
spot. "Take me to my brother,'' said he to Campbell. The latter
gave him in charge to some of the men, who conveyed him out of
the swamp.

Sublette now took the advance. As he was reconnoitring the fort,
he perceived an Indian peeping through an aperture. In an instant
his rifle was levelled and discharged, and the ball struck the
savage in the eye. While he was reloading, he called to Campbell,
and pointed out to him the hole; "Watch that place," said he,
"and you will soon have a fair chance for a shot." Scarce had he
uttered the words, when a ball struck him in the shoulder, and
almost wheeled him around. His first thought was to take hold of
his arm with his other hand, and move it up and down. He
ascertained, to his satisfaction, that the bone was not broken.
The next moment he was so faint that he could not stand. Campbell
took him in his arms and carried him out of the thicket. The same
shot that struck Sublette wounded another man in the head.

A brisk fire was now opened by the mountaineers from the wood,
answered occasionally from the fort. Unluckily, the trappers and
their allies, in searching for the fort, had got scattered, so
that Wyeth, and a number of Nez Perces, approached the fort on
the northwest side, while others did the same on the opposite
quarter. A cross-fire thus took place, which occasionally did
mischief to friends as well as foes. An Indian was shot down,
close to Wyeth, by a ball which, he was convinced, had been sped
from the rifle of a trapper on the other side of the fort.

The number of whites and their Indian allies had by this time so
much increased by arrivals from the rendezvous, that the
Blackfeet were completely overmatched. They kept doggedly in
their fort, however, making no offer of surrender. An occasional
firing into the breastwork was kept up during the day. Now and
then, one of the Indian allies, in bravado, would rush up to the
fort, fire over the ramparts, tear off a buffalo robe or a
scarlet blanket, and return with it in triumph to his comrades.
Most of the savage garrison that fell, however, were killed in
the first part of the attack.

At one time it was resolved to set fire to the fort; and the
squaws belonging to the allies were employed to collect
combustibles. This however, was abandoned; the Nez Perces being
unwilling to destroy the robes and blankets, and other spoils of
the enemy, which they felt sure would fall into their hands.

The Indians, when fighting, are prone to taunt and revile each
other. During one of the pauses of the battle, the voice of the
Blackfeet chief was heard.

"So long," said he, "as we had powder and ball, we fought you in
the open field: when those were spent, we retreated here to die
with our women and children. You may burn us in our fort; but,
stay by our ashes, and you who are so hungry for fighting will
soon have enough. There are four hundred lodges of our brethren
at hand. They will soon be here--their arms are strong--their
hearts are big--they will avenge us!"

This speech was translated two or three times by Nez Perce and
creole interpreters. By the time it was rendered into English,
the chief was made to say that four hundred lodges of his tribe
were attacking the encampment at the other end of the valley.
Every one now was for hurrying to the defence of the rendezvous.
A party was left to keep watch upon the fort; the rest galloped
off to the camp. As night came on, the trappers drew out of the
swamp, and remained about the skirts of the wood. By morning,
their companions returned from the rendezvous with the report
that all was safe. As the day opened, they ventured within the
swamp and approached the fort. All was silent. They advanced up
to it without opposition. They entered: it had been abandoned in
the night, and the Blackfeet had effected their retreat, carrying
off their wounded on litters made of branches, leaving bloody
traces on the herbage. The bodies of ten Indians were found
within the fort; among them the one shot in the eye by Sublette.
The Blackfeet afterward reported that they had lost twenty-six
warriors in this battle. Thirty-two horses were likewise found
killed; among them were some of those recently carried off from
Sublette's party, in the night; which showed that these were the
very savages that had attacked him. They proved to be an advance
party of the main body of Blackfeet, which had been upon the
trail of Sublette's party. Five white men and one halfbreed were
killed, and several wounded. Seven of the Nez Perces were also
killed, and six wounded. They had an old chief, who was reputed
as invulnerable. In the course of the action he was hit by a
spent ball, and threw up blood; but his skin was unbroken. His
people were now fully convinced that he was proof against powder
and ball.

A striking circumstance is related as having occurred the morning
after the battle. As some of the trappers and their Indian allies
were approaching the fort through the woods, they beheld an
Indian woman, of noble form and features, leaning against a tree.
Their surprise at her lingering here alone, to fall into the
hands of her enemies, was dispelled, when they saw the corpse of
a warrior at her feet. Either she was so lost in grief as not to
perceive their approach; or a proud spirit kept her silent and
motionless. The Indians set up a yell, on discovering her, and
before the trappers could interfere, her mangled body fell upon
the corpse which she had refused to abandon. We have heard this
anecdote discredited by one of the leaders who had been in the
battle: but the fact may have taken place without his seeing it,
and been concealed from him. It is an instance of female
devotion, even to the death, which we are well disposed to
believe and to record.

After the battle, the brigade of Milton Sublette, together with
the free trappers, and Wyeth's New England band, remained some
days at the rendezvous, to see if the main body of Blackfeet
intended to make an attack; nothing of the kind occurring, they
once more put themselves in motion, and proceeded on their route
toward the southwest. Captain Sublette having distributed his
supplies, had intended to set off on his return to St. Louis,
taking with him the peltries collected from the trappers and
Indians. His wound, however obliged him to postpone his
departure. Several who were to have accompanied him became
impatient of this delay. Among these was a young Bostonian, Mr.
Joseph More, one of the followers of Mr. Wyeth, who had seen
enough of mountain life and savage warfare, and was eager to
return to the abodes of civilization. He and six others, among
whom were a Mr. Foy, of Mississippi, Mr. Alfred K. Stephens, of
St. Louis, and two grandsons of the celebrated Daniel Boon, set
out together, in advance of Sublette's party, thinking they would
make their way through the mountains.

It was just five days after the battle of the swamp that these
seven companions were making their way through Jackson's Hole, a
valley not far from the three Tetons, when, as they were
descending a hill, a party of Blackfeet that lay in ambush
started up with terrific yells. The horse of the young Bostonian,
who was in front, wheeled round with affright, and threw his
unskilled rider. The young man scrambled up the side of the hill,
but, unaccustomed to such wild scenes, lost his presence of mind,
and stood, as if paralyzed, on the edge of a bank, until the
Blackfeet came up and slew him on the spot. His comrades had fled
on the first alarm; but two of them, Foy and Stephens, seeing his
danger, paused when they got half way up the hill, turned back,
dismounted, and hastened to his assistance. Foy was instantly
killed. Stephens was severely wounded, but escaped, to die five
days afterward. The survivors returned to the camp of Captain
Sublette, bringing tidings of this new disaster. That hardy
leader, as soon as he could bear the journey, set out on his
return to St. Louis, accompanied by Campbell. As they had a
number of pack-horses richly laden with peltries to convoy, they
chose a different route through the mountains, out of the way, as
they hoped, of the lurking bands of Blackfeet. They succeeded in
making the frontier in safety. We remember to have seen them with
their band, about two or three months afterward, passing through
a skirt of woodland in the upper part of Missouri. Their long
cavalcade stretched in single file for nearly half a mile.
Sublette still wore his arm in a sling. The mountaineers in their
rude hunting dresses, armed with rifles and roughly mounted, and
leading their pack-horses down a hill of the forest, looked like
banditti returning with plunder. On the top of some of the packs
were perched several half-breed children, perfect little imps,
with wild black eyes glaring from among elf locks. These, I was
told, were children of the trappers; pledges of love from their
squaw spouses in the wilderness.



                              7. 
                                
  Retreat of the Blackfeet Fontenelle's camp in danger Captain
  Bonneville and the Blackfeet  Free trappers Their character,
habits, dress, equipments, horses Game fellows of the mountains 
   Their visit to the camp Good fellowship and good cheer  A
        carouse A swagger, a brawl, and a reconciliation

THE BLACKFEET WARRIORS, when they effected their midnight retreat
from their wild fastness in Pierre's Hole, fell back into the
valley of the Seeds-ke-dee, or Green River where they joined the
main body of their band. The whole force amounted to several
hundred fighting men, gloomy and exasperated by their late
disaster. They had with them their wives and children, which
incapacitated them from any bold and extensive enterprise of a
warlike nature; but when, in the course of their wanderings they
came in sight of the encampment of Fontenelle, who had moved some
distance up Green River valley in search of the free trappers,
they put up tremendous war-cries, and advanced fiercely as if to
attack it. Second thoughts caused them to moderate their fury.
They recollected the severe lesson just received, and could not
but remark the strength of Fontenelle's position; which had been
chosen with great judgment.

A formal talk ensued. The Blackfeet said nothing of the late
battle, of which Fontenelle had as yet received no accounts; the
latter, however, knew the hostile and perfidious nature of these
savages, and took care to inform them of the encampment of
Captain Bonneville, that they might know there were more white
men in the neighborhood. The conference ended, Fontenelle sent a
Delaware Indian of his party to conduct fifteen of the Blackfeet
to the camp of Captain Bonneville. There was [sic] at that time
two Crow Indians in the captain's camp, who had recently arrived
there. They looked with dismay at this deputation from their
implacable enemies, and gave the captain a terrible character of
them, assuring him that the best thing he could possibly do, was
to put those Blackfeet deputies to death on the spot. The
captain, however, who had heard nothing of the conflict at
Pierre's Hole, declined all compliance with this sage counsel. He
treated the grim warriors with his usual urbanity. They passed
some little time at the camp; saw, no doubt, that everything was
conducted with military skill and vigilance; and that such an
enemy was not to be easily surprised, nor to be molested with
impunity, and then departed, to report all that they had seen to
their comrades.

The two scouts which Captain Bonneville had sent out to seek for
the band of free trappers, expected by Fontenelle, and to invite
them to his camp, had been successful in their search, and on the
12th of August those worthies made their appearance.

To explain the meaning of the appellation, free trapper, it is
necessary to state the terms on which the men enlist in the
service of the fur companies. Some have regular wages, and are
furnished with weapons, horses, traps, and other requisites.
These are under command, and bound to do every duty required of
them connected with the service; such as hunting, trapping,
loading and unloading the horses, mounting guard; and, in short,
all the drudgery of the camp. These are the hired trappers.

The free trappers are a more independent class; and in describing
them, we shall do little more than transcribe the graphic
description of them by Captain Bonneville. "They come and go,"
says he, "when and where they please; provide their own horses,
arms, and other equipments; trap and trade on their own account,
and dispose of their skins and peltries to the highest bidder.
Sometimes, in a dangerous hunting ground, they attach themselves
to the camp of some trader for protection. Here they come under
some restrictions; they have to conform to the ordinary rules for
trapping, and to submit to such restraints, and to take part in
such general duties, as are established for the good order and
safety of the camp. In return for this protection, and for their
camp keeping, they are bound to dispose of all the beaver they
take, to the trader who commands the camp, at a certain rate per
skin; or, should they prefer seeking a market elsewhere, they are
to make him an allowance, of from thirty to forty dollars for the
whole hunt."

There is an inferior order, who, either from prudence or poverty,
come to these dangerous hunting grounds without horses or
accoutrements, and are furnished by the traders. These, like the
hired trappers, are bound to exert themselves to the utmost in
taking beaver, which, without skinning, they render in at the
trader's lodge, where a stipulated price for each is placed to
their credit. These though generally included in the generic name
of free trappers, have the more specific title of skin trappers.

The wandering whites who mingle for any length of time with the
savages have invariably a proneness to adopt savage habitudes;
but none more so than the free trappers. It is a matter of vanity
and ambition with them to discard everything that may bear the
stamp of civilized life, and to adopt the manners, habits, dress,
gesture, and even walk of the Indian. You cannot pay a free
trapper a greater compliment, than to persuade him you have
mistaken him for an Indian brave; and, in truth, the counterfeit
is complete. His hair suffered to attain to a great length, is
carefully combed out, and either left to fall carelessly over his
shoulders, or plaited neatly and tied up in otter skins, or
parti-colored ribands. A hunting-shirt of ruffled calico of
bright dyes, or of ornamented leather, falls to his knee; below
which, curiously fashioned legging, ornamented with strings,
fringes, and a profusion of hawks' bells, reach to a costly pair
of moccasons of the finest Indian fabric, richly embroidered with
beads. A blanket of scarlet, or some other bright color, hangs
from his shoulders, and is girt around his waist with a red sash,
in which he bestows his pistols, knife, and the stem of his
Indian pipe; preparations either for peace or war. His gun is
lavishly decorated with brass tacks and vermilion, and provided
with a fringed cover, occasionally of buckskin, ornamented here
and there with a feather. His horse, the noble minister to the
pride, pleasure, and profit of the mountaineer, is selected for
his speed and spirit, and prancing gait, and holds a place in his
estimation second only to himself. He shares largely of his
bounty, and of his pride and pomp of trapping. He is caparisoned
in the most dashing and fantastic style; the bridles and crupper
are weightily embossed with beads and cockades; and head, mane,
and tail, are interwoven with abundance of eagles' plumes, which
flutter in the wind. To complete this grotesque equipment, the
proud animal is bestreaked and bespotted with vermilion, or with
white clay, whichever presents the most glaring contrast to his
real color.

Such is the account given by Captain Bonneville of these rangers
of the wilderness, and their appearance at the camp was
strikingly characteristic. They came dashing forward at full
speed, firing their fusees, and yelling in Indian style. Their
dark sunburned faces, and long flowing hair, their legging,
flaps, moccasons, and richly-dyed blankets, and their painted
horses gaudily caparisoned, gave them so much the air and
appearance of Indians, that it was difficult to persuade one's
self that they were white men, and had been brought up in
civilized life.

Captain Bonneville, who was delighted with the game look of these
cavaliers of the mountains, welcomed them heartily to his camp,
and ordered a free allowance of grog to regale them, which soon
put them in the most braggart spirits. They pronounced the
captain the finest fellow in the world, and his men all bons
garons, jovial lads, and swore they would pass the day with
them. They did so; and a day it was, of boast, and swagger, and
rodomontade. The prime bullies and braves among the free trappers
had each his circle of novices, from among the captain's band;
mere greenhorns, men unused to Indian life; mangeurs de lard, or
pork-eaters; as such new-comers are superciliously called by the
veterans of the wilderness. These he would astonish and delight
by the hour, with prodigious tales of his doings among the
Indians; and of the wonders he had seen, and the wonders he had
performed, in his adventurous peregrinations among the mountains.

In the evening, the free trappers drew off, and returned to the
camp of Fontenelle, highly delighted with their visit and with
their new acquaintances, and promising to return the following
day. They kept their word: day after day their visits were
repeated; they became "hail fellow well met" with Captain
Bonneville's men; treat after treat succeeded, until both parties
got most potently convinced, or rather confounded, by liquor. Now
came on confusion and uproar. The free trappers were no longer
suffered to have all the swagger to themselves. The camp bullies
and prime trappers of the party began to ruffle up, and to brag,
in turn, of their perils and achievements. Each now tried to
out-boast and out-talk the other; a quarrel ensued as a matter of
course, and a general fight, according to frontier usage. The two
factions drew out their forces for a pitched battle. They fell to
work and belabored each other with might and main; kicks and
cuffs and dry blows were as well bestowed as they were well
merited, until, having fought to their hearts' content, and been
drubbed into a familiar acquaintance with each other's prowess
and good qualities, they ended the fight by becoming firmer
friends than they could have been rendered by a year's peaceable
companionship.

While Captain Bonneville amused himself by observing the habits
and characteristics of this singular class of men, and indulged
them, for the time, in all their vagaries, he profited by the
opportunity to collect from them information concerning the
different parts of the country about which they had been
accustomed to range; the characters of the tribes, and, in short,
everything important to his enterprise. He also succeeded in
securing the services of several to guide and aid him in his
peregrinations among the mountains, and to trap for him during
the ensuing season. Having strengthened his party with such
valuable recruits, he felt in some measure consoled for the loss
of the Delaware Indians, decoyed from him by Mr Fontenelle.



                               8.
                                
Plans for the winter Salmon River Abundance of salmon west of the
mountains New arrangements  Caches Cerre's detachment Movements
     in Fontenelle's camp Departure of the Blackfeet Their
fortunes Wind Mountain streams Buckeye, the Delaware hunter, and
the grizzly bear Bones of murdered travellers Visit to Pierre's
 Hole Traces of the battle Nez Perce Indians Arrival at Salmon
                             River

THE INFORMATION derived from the free trappers determined Captain
Bonneville as to his further movements. He learned that in the
Green River valley the winters were severe, the snow frequently
falling to the depth of several feet; and that there was no good
wintering ground in the neighborhood. The upper part of Salmon
River was represented as far more eligible, besides being in an
excellent beaver country; and thither the captain resolved to
bend his course.

The Salmon River is one of the upper branches of the Oregon or
Columbia; and takes its rise from various sources, among a group
of mountains to the northwest of the Wind River chain. It owes
its name to the immense shoals of salmon which ascend it in the
months of September and October. The salmon on the west side of
the Rocky Mountains are, like the buffalo on the eastern plains,
vast migratory supplies for the wants of man, that come and go
with the seasons. As the buffalo in countless throngs find their
certain way in the transient pasturage on the prairies, along the
fresh banks of the rivers, and up every valley and green defile
of the mountains, so the salmon, at their allotted seasons,
regulated by a sublime and all-seeing Providence, swarm in
myriads up the great rivers, and find their way up their main
branches, and into the minutest tributory streams; so as to
pervade the great arid plains, and to penetrate even among barren
mountains. Thus wandering tribes are fed in the desert places of
the wilderness, where there is no herbage for the animals of the
chase, and where, but for these periodical supplies, it would be
impossible for man to subsist.

The rapid currents of the rivers which run into the Pacific
render the ascent of them very exhausting to the salmon. When the
fish first run up the rivers, they are fat and in fine order. The
struggle against impetuous streams and frequent rapids gradually
renders them thin and weak, and great numbers are seen floating
down the rivers on their backs. As the season advances and the
water becomes chilled, they are flung in myriads on the shores,
where the wolves and bears assemble to banquet on them. Often
they rot in such quantities along the river banks as to taint the
atmosphere. They are commonly from two to three feet long.

Captain Bonneville now made his arrangements for the autumn and
the winter. The nature of the country through which he was about
to travel rendered it impossible to proceed with wagons. He had
more goods and supplies of various kinds, also, than were
required for present purposes, or than could be conveniently
transported on horseback; aided, therefore, by a few confidential
men, he made caches, or secret pits, during the night, when all
the rest of the camp were asleep, and in these deposited the
superfluous effects, together with the wagons. All traces of the
caches were then carefully obliterated. This is a common
expedient with the traders and trappers of the mountains. Having
no established posts and magazines, they make these caches or
deposits at certain points, whither they repair, occasionally,
for supplies. It is an expedient derived from the wandering
tribes of Indians.

Many of the horses were still so weak and lame, as to be unfit
for a long scramble through the mountains. These were collected
into one cavalcade, and given in charge to an experienced
trapper, of the name of Matthieu. He was to proceed westward,
with a brigade of trappers, to Bear River;  a stream to the west
of the Green River or Colorado, where there was good pasturage
for the horses. In this neighborhood it was expected he would
meet the Shoshonie villages or bands, on their yearly migrations,
with whom he was to trade for peltries and provisions. After he
had traded with these people, finished his trapping, and
recruited the strength of the horses, he was to proceed to Salmon
River and rejoin Captain Bonneville, who intended to fix his
quarters there for the winter.

While these arrangements were in progress in the camp of Captain
Bonneville, there was a sudden bustle and stir in the camp of
Fontenelle. One of the partners of the American Fur Company had
arrived, in all haste, from the rendezvous at Pierre's Hole, in
quest of the supplies. The competition between the two rival
companies was just now at its height, and prosecuted with unusual
zeal. The tramontane concerns of the Rocky Mountain Fur Company
were managed by two resident partners, Fitzpatrick and Bridger;
those of the American Fur Company, by Vanderburgh and Dripps. The
latter were ignorant of the mountain regions, but trusted to make
up by vigilance and activity for their want of knowledge of the
country.

Fitzpatrick, an experienced trader and trapper, knew the evils of
competition in the same hunting grounds, and had proposed that
the two companies should divide the country, so as to hunt in
different directions: this proposition being rejected, he had
exerted himself to get first into the field. His exertions, as
have already been shown, were effectual. The early arrival of
Sublette, with supplies, had enabled the various brigades of the
Rocky Mountain Company to start off to their respective hunting
grounds. Fitzpatrick himself, with his associate, Bridger, had
pushed off with a strong party of trappers, for a prime beaver
country to the north-northwest.

This had put Vanderburgh upon his mettle. He had hastened on to
meet Fontenelle. Finding him at his camp in Green River valley,
he immediately furnished himself with the supplies; put himself
at the head of the free trappers and Delawares, and set off with
all speed, determined to follow hard upon the heels of
Fitzpatrick and Bridger. Of the adventures of these parties among
the mountains, and the disastrous effects of their competition,
we shall have occasion to treat in a future chapter.

Fontenelle having now delivered his supplies and accomplished his
errand, struck his tents and set off on his return to the
Yellowstone. Captain Bonneville and his band, therefore, remained
alone in the Green River valley; and their situation might have
been perilous, had the Blackfeet band still lingered in the
vicinity. Those marauders, however, had been dismayed at finding
so many resolute and well-appointed parties of white men in the
neighborhood. They had, therefore, abandoned this part of the
country, passing over the headwaters of the Green River, and
bending their course towards the Yellowstone. Misfortune pursued
them. Their route lay through the country of their deadly
enemies, the Crows. In the Wind River valley, which lies east of
the mountains, they were encountered by a powerful war party of
that tribe, and completely put to rout. Forty of them were
killed, many of their women and children captured, and the
scattered fugitives hunted like wild beasts until they were
completely chased out of the Crow country.

On the 22d of August Captain Bonneville broke up his camp, and
set out on his route for Salmon River. His baggage was arranged
in packs, three to a mule, or pack-horse; one being disposed on
each side of the animal and one on the top; the three forming a
load of from one hundred and eighty to two hundred and twenty
pounds. This is the trappers' style of loading pack-horses; his
men, however, were inexpert at adjusting the packs, which were
prone to get loose and slip off, so that it was necessary to keep
a rear-guard to assist in reloading. A few days' experience,
however, brought them into proper training.

Their march lay up the valley of the Seeds-ke-dee, overlooked to
the right by the lofty peaks of the Wind River Mountains. From
bright little lakes and fountain-heads of this remarkable bed of
mountains poured forth the tributary streams of the Seeds-ke-dee.
Some came rushing down gullies and ravines; others tumbled in
crystal cascades from inaccessible clefts and rocks, and others
winding their way in rapid and pellucid currents across the
valley, to throw themselves into the main river. So transparent
were these waters that the trout with which they abounded could
be seen gliding about as if in the air; and their pebbly beds
were distinctly visible at the depth of many feet. This beautiful
and diaphanous quality of the Rocky Mountain streams prevails for
a long time after they have mingled their waters and swollen into
important rivers.

Issuing from the upper part of the valley, Captain Bonneville
continued to the east-northeast, across rough and lofty ridges,
and deep rocky defiles, extremely fatiguing both to man and
horse. Among his hunters was a Delaware Indian who had remained
faithful to him. His name was Buckeye. He had often prided
himself on his skill and success in coping with the grizzly bear,
that terror of the hunters. Though crippled in the left arm, he
declared he had no hesitation to close with a wounded bear, and
attack him with a sword. If armed with a rifle, he was willing to
brave the animal when in full force and fury. He had twice an
opportunity of proving his prowess, in the course of this
mountain journey, and was each time successful. His mode was to
seat himself upon the ground, with his rifle cocked and resting
on his lame arm. Thus prepared, he would await the approach of
the bear with perfect coolness, nor pull trigger until he was
close at hand. In each instance, he laid the monster dead upon
the spot.

A march of three or four days, through savage and lonely scenes,
brought Captain Bonneville to the fatal defile of Jackson's Hole,
where poor More and Foy had been surprised and murdered by the
Blackfeet. The feelings of the captain were shocked at beholding
the bones of these unfortunate young men bleaching among the
rocks; and he caused them to be decently interred.

On the 3d of September he arrived on the summit of a mountain
which commanded a full view of the eventful valley of Pierre's
Hole; whence he could trace the winding of its stream through
green meadows, and forests of willow and cotton-wood, and have a
prospect, between distant mountains, of the lava plains of Snake
River, dimly spread forth like a sleeping ocean below.

After enjoying this magnificent prospect, he descended into the
valley, and visited the scenes of the late desperate conflict.
There were the remains of the rude fortress in the swamp,
shattered by rifle shot, and strewed with the mingled bones of
savages and horses. There was the late populous and noisy
rendezvous, with the traces of trappers' camps and Indian lodges;
but their fires were extinguished, the motley assemblage of
trappers and hunters, white traders and Indian braves, had all
dispersed to different points of the wilderness, and the valley
had relapsed into its pristine solitude and silence.

That night the captain encamped upon the battle ground; the next
day he resumed his toilsome peregrinations through the mountains.
For upwards of two weeks he continued his painful march; both men
and horses suffering excessively at times from hunger and thirst.
At length, on the 19th of September, he reached the upper waters
of Salmon River.

The weather was cold, and there were symptoms of an impending
storm. The night set in, but Buckeye, the Delaware Indian, was
missing. He had left the party early in the morning, to hunt by
himself, according to his custom. Fears were entertained lest he
should lose his way and become bewildered in tempestuous weather.
These fears increased on the following morning, when a violent
snow-storm came on, which soon covered the earth to the depth of
several inches. Captain Bonneville immediately encamped, and sent
out scouts in every direction. After some search Buckeye was
discovered, quietly seated at a considerable distance in the
rear, waiting the expected approach of the party, not knowing
that they had passed, the snow having covered their trail.

On the ensuing morning they resumed their march at an early hour,
but had not proceeded far when the hunters, who were beating up
the country in the advance, came galloping back, making signals
to encamp, and crying Indians! Indians!

Captain Bonneville immediately struck into a skirt of wood and
prepared for action. The savages were now seen trooping over the
hills in great numbers. One of them left the main body and came
forward singly, making signals of peace. He announced them as a
band of Nez Perces or Pierced-nose Indians, friendly to the
whites, whereupon an invitation was returned by Captain
Bonneville for them to come and encamp with him. They halted for
a short time to make their toilette, an operation as important
with an Indian warrior as with a fashionable beauty. This done,
they arranged themselves in martial style, the chiefs leading the
van, the braves following in a long line, painted and decorated,
and topped off with fluttering plumes. In this way they advanced,
shouting and singing, firing off their fusees, and clashing their
shields. The two parties encamped hard by each other. The Nez
Perces were on a hunting expedition, but had been almost famished
on their march. They had no provisions left but a few dried
salmon, yet finding the white men equally in want, they
generously offered to share even this meager pittance, and
frequently repeated the offer, with an earnestness that left no
doubt of their sincerity. Their generosity won the heart of
Captain Bonneville, and produced the most cordial good will on
the part of his men. For two days that the parties remained in
company, the most amicable intercourse prevailed, and they parted
the best of friends. Captain Bonneville detached a few men, under
Mr. Cerre, an able leader, to accompany the Nez Perces on their
hunting expedition, and to trade with them for meat for the
winter's supply. After this, he proceeded down the river, about
five miles below the forks, when he came to a halt on the 26th of
September, to establish his winter quarters.



                              9. 
                                
  Horses turned loose Preparations for winter quarters Hungry
times Nez Perces, their honesty, piety, pacific habits, religious
 ceremonies Captain Bonneville's conversations with them Their
                       love of gambling 


IT WAS GRATIFYING to Captain Bonneville, after so long and
toilsome a course of travel, to relieve his poor jaded horses of
the burden under which they were almost ready to give out, and to
behold them rolling upon the grass, and taking a long repose
after all their sufferings. Indeed, so exhausted were they, that
those employed under the saddle were no longer capable of hunting
for the daily subsistence of the camp.

All hands now set to work to prepare a winter cantonment. A
temporary fortification was thrown up for the protection of the
party; a secure and comfortable pen, into which the horses could
be driven at night; and huts were built for the reception of the
merchandise.

This done, Captain Bonneville made a distribution of his forces:
twenty men were to remain with him in garrison to protect the
property; the rest were organized into three brigades, and sent
off in different directions, to subsist themselves by hunting the
buffalo, until the snow should become too deep.

Indeed, it would have been impossible to provide for the whole
party in this neighborhood. It was at the extreme western limit
of the buffalo range, and these animals had recently been
completely hunted out of the neighborhood by the Nez Perces, so
that, although the hunters of the garrison were continually on
the alert, ranging the country round, they brought in scarce game
sufficient to keep famine from the door. Now and then there was a
scanty meal of fish or wild-fowl, occasionally an antelope; but
frequently the cravings of hunger had to be appeased with roots,
or the flesh of wolves and muskrats. Rarely could the inmates of
the cantonment boast of having made a full meal, and never of
having wherewithal for the morrow. In this way they starved along
until the 8th of October, when they were joined by a party of
five families of Nez Perces, who in some measure reconciled them
to the hardships of their situation by exhibiting a lot still
more destitute. A more forlorn set they had never encountered:
they had not a morsel of meat or fish; nor anything to subsist
on, excepting roots, wild rosebuds, the barks of certain plants,
and other vegetable production; neither had they any weapon for
hunting or defence, excepting an old spear: yet the poor fellows
made no murmur nor complaint; but seemed accustomed to their hard
fare. If they could not teach the white men their practical
stoicism, they at least made them acquainted with the edible
properties of roots and wild rosebuds, and furnished them a
supply from their own store. The necessities of the camp at
length became so urgent that Captain Bonneville determined to
dispatch a party to the Horse Prairie, a plain to the north of
his cantonment, to procure a supply of provisions. When the men
were about to depart, he proposed to the Nez Perces that they, or
some of them, should join the hunting-party. To his surprise,
they promptly declined. He inquired the reason for their refusal,
seeing that they were in nearly as starving a situation as his
own people. They replied that it was a sacred day with them, and
the Great Spirit would be angry should they devote it to hunting.
They offered, however, to accompany the party if it would delay
its departure until the following day; but this the pinching
demands of hunger would not permit, and the detachment proceeded.

A few days afterward, four of them signified to Captain
Bonneville that they were about to hunt. "What! " exclaimed he,
"without guns or arrows; and with only one old spear? What do you
expect to kill? " They smiled among themselves, but made no
answer. Preparatory to the chase, they performed some religious
rites, and offered up to the Great Spirit a few short prayers for
safety and success; then, having received the blessings of their
wives, they leaped upon their horses and departed, leaving the
whole party of Christian spectators amazed and rebuked by this
lesson of faith and dependence on a supreme and benevolent Being.
"Accustomed," adds Captain Bonneville, "as I had heretofore been,
to find the wretched Indian revelling in blood, and stained by
every vice which can degrade human nature, I could scarcely
realize the scene which I had witnessed. Wonder at such
unaffected tenderness and piety, where it was least to have been
sought, contended in all our bosoms with shame and confusion, at
receiving such pure and wholesome instructions from creatures so
far below us in the arts and comforts of life." The simple
prayers of the poor Indians were not unheard. In the course of
four or five days they returned, laden with meat. Captain
Bonneville was curious to know how they had attained such success
with such scanty means. They gave him to understand that they had
chased the buffalo at full speed, until they tired them down,
when they easily dispatched them with the spear, and made use of
the same weapon to flay the carcasses. To carry through their
lessons to their Christian friends, the poor savages were as
charitable as they had been pious, and generously shared with
them the spoils of their hunting, giving them food enough to last
for several days.

A further and more intimate intercourse with this tribe gave
Captain Bonneville still greater cause to admire their strong
devotional feeling. "Simply to call these people religious," says
he, "would convey but a faint idea of the deep hue of piety and
devotion which pervades their whole conduct. Their honesty is
immaculate, and their purity of purpose, and their observance of
the rites of their religion, are most uniform and remarkable.
They are, certainly, more like a nation of saints than a horde of
savages."

In fact, the antibelligerent policy of this tribe may have sprung
from the doctrines of Christian charity, for it would appear that
they had imbibed some notions of the Christian faith from
Catholic missionaries and traders who had been among them. They
even had a rude calendar of the fasts and festivals of the Romish
Church, and some traces of its ceremonials. These have become
blended with their own wild rites, and present a strange medley;
civilized and barbarous. On the Sabbath, men, women, and children
array themselves in their best style, and assemble round a pole
erected at the head of the camp. Here they go through a wild
fantastic ceremonial; strongly resembling the religious dance of
the Shaking Quakers; but from its enthusiasm, much more striking
and impressive. During the intervals of the ceremony, the
principal chiefs, who officiate as priests, instruct them in
their duties, and exhort them to virtue and good deeds.

"There is something antique and patriarchal," observes Captain
Bonneville, "in this union of the offices of leader and priest;
as there is in many of their customs and manners, which are all
strongly imbued with religion."

The worthy captain, indeed, appears to have been strongly
interested by this gleam of unlooked for light amidst the
darkness of the wilderness. He exerted himself, during his
sojourn among this simple and well-disposed people, to inculcate,
as far as he was able, the gentle and humanizing precepts of the
Christian faith, and to make them acquainted with the leading
points of its history; and it speaks highly for the purity and
benignity of his heart, that he derived unmixed happiness from
the task.

"Many a time," says he, "was my little lodge thronged, or rather
piled with hearers, for they lay on the ground, one leaning over
the other, until there was no further room, all listening with
greedy ears to the wonders which the Great Spirit had revealed to
the white man. No other subject gave them half the satisfaction,
or commanded half the attention; and but few scenes in my life
remain so freshly on my memory, or are so pleasurably recalled to
my contemplation, as these hours of intercourse with a distant
and benighted race in the midst of the desert."

The only excesses indulged in by this temperate and exemplary
people, appear to be gambling and horseracing. In these they
engage with an eagerness that amounts to infatuation. Knots of
gamblers will assemble before one of their lodge fires, early in
the evening, and remain absorbed in the chances and changes of
the game until long after dawn of the following day. As the night
advances, they wax warmer and warmer. Bets increase in amount,
one loss only serves to lead to a greater, until in the course of
a single night's gambling, the richest chief may become the
poorest varlet in the camp.



                              10.
                                
        Black feet in the Horse Prairie Search after the
      hunters Difficulties and dangers A card party in the
  wilderness The card party interrupted "Old Sledge" a losing
game Visitors to the camp Iroquois hunters Hanging-eared Indians.

ON the 12th of October, two young Indians of the Nez Perce tribe
arrived at Captain Bonneville's encampment. They were on their
way homeward, but had been obliged to swerve from their ordinary
route through the mountains, by deep snows. Their new route took
them though the Horse Prairie. In traversing it, they had been
attracted by the distant smoke of a camp fire, and on stealing
near to reconnoitre, had discovered a war party of Blackfeet.
They had several horses with them; and, as they generally go on
foot on warlike excursions, it was concluded that these horses
had been captured in the course of their maraudings.

This intelligence awakened solicitude on the mind of Captain
Bonneville for the party of hunters whom he had sent to that
neighborhood; and the Nez Perces, when informed of the
circumstances, shook their heads, and declared their belief that
the horses they had seen had been stolen from that very party.
Anxious for information on the subject, Captain Bonneville
dispatched two hunters to beat up the country in that direction.
They searched in vain; not a trace of the men could be found; but
they got into a region destitute of game, where they were
well-nigh famished. At one time they were three entire days
with-out a mouthful of food; at length they beheld a buffalo
grazing at the foot of the mountain. After manoeuvring so as to
get within shot, they fired, but merely wounded him. He took to
flight, and they followed him over hill and dale, with the
eagerness and per-severance of starving men. A more lucky shot
brought him to the ground. Stanfield sprang upon him, plunged his
knife into his throat, and allayed his raging hunger by drinking
his blood: A fire was instantly kindled beside the carcass, when
the two hunters cooked, and ate again and again, until, perfectly
gorged, they sank to sleep before their hunting fire. On the
following morning they rose early, made another hearty meal, then
loading themselves with buffalo meat, set out on their return to
the camp, to report the fruitlessness of their mission.

At length, after six weeks' absence, the hunters made their
appearance, and were received with joy proportioned to the
anxiety that had been felt on their account. They had hunted with
success on the prairie, but, while busy drying buffalo meat, were
joined by a few panic - stricken Flatheads, who informed them
that a powerful band of Blackfeet was at hand. The hunters
immediately abandoned the dangerous hunting ground, and
accompanied the Flatheads to their village. Here they found Mr.
Cerre, and the detachment of hunters sent with him to accompany
the hunting party of the Nez Perces.

After remaining some time at the village, until they supposed the
Blackfeet to have left the neighborhood, they set off with some
of Mr. Cerre's men for the cantonment at Salmon River, where they
arrived without accident. They informed Captain Bonneville,
however, that not far from his quarters they had found a wallet
of fresh meat and a cord, which they supposed had been left by
some prowling Blackfeet. A few days afterward Mr. Cerre, with the
remainder of his men, likewise arrived at the cantonment.

Mr. Walker, one of his subleaders, who had gone with a band of
twenty hunters to range the country just beyond the Horse
Prairie, had likewise his share of adventures with the
all-pervading Blackfeet. At one of his encampments the guard
stationed to keep watch round the camp grew weary of their duty,
and feeling a little too secure, and too much at home on these
prairies, retired to a small grove of willows to amuse themselves
with a social game of cards called "old sledge," which is as
popular among these trampers of the prairies as whist or ecarte
among the polite circles of the cities. From the midst of their
sport they were suddenly roused by a discharge of firearms and a
shrill war-whoop. Starting on their feet, and snatching up their
rifles, they beheld in dismay their horses and mules already in
possession of the enemy, who had stolen upon the camp
unperceived, while they were spell-bound by the magic of old
sledge. The Indians sprang upon the animals barebacked, and
endeavored to urge them off under a galling fire that did some
execution. The mules, however, confounded by the hurly-burly and
disliking their new riders kicked up their heels and dismounted
half of them, in spite of their horsemanship. This threw the rest
into confusion; they endeavored to protect their unhorsed
comrades from the furious assaults of the whites; but, after a
scene of "confusion worse confounded," horses and mules were
abandoned, and the Indians betook themselves to the bushes. Here
they quickly scratched holes in the earth about two feet deep, in
which they prostrated themselves, and while thus screened from
the shots of the white men, were enabled to make such use of
their bows and arrows and fusees, as to repulse their assailants
and to effect their retreat. This adventure threw a temporary
stigma upon the game of "old sledge."

In the course of the autumn, four Iroquois hunters, driven by the
snow from their hunting grounds, made their appearance at the
cantonment. They were kindly welcomed, and during their sojourn
made themselves useful in a variety of ways, being excellent
trappers and first-rate woodsmen. They were of the remnants of a
party of Iroquois hunters that came from Canada into these
mountain regions many years previously, in the employ of the
Hudson's Bay Company. They were led by a brave chieftain, named
Pierre, who fell by the hands of the Blackfeet, and gave his name
to the fated valley of Pierre's Hole. This branch of the Iroquois
tribe has ever since remained among these mountains, at mortal
enmity with the Blackfeet, and have lost many of their prime
hunters in their feuds with that ferocious race. Some of them
fell in with General Ashley, in the course of one of his gallant
excursions into the wilderness, and have continued ever since in
the employ of the company.

Among the motley Visitors to the winter quarters of Captain
Bonneville was a party of Pends Oreilles (or Hanging-ears) and
their chief. These Indians have a strong resemblance, in
character and customs, to the Nez Perces. They amount to about
three hundred lodges, are well armed, and possess great numbers
of horses. During the spring, summer, and autumn, they hunt the
buffalo about the head-waters of the Missouri, Henry's Fork of
the Snake River, and the northern branches of Salmon River. Their
winter quarters are upon the Racine Amere, where they subsist
upon roots and dried buffalo meat. Upon this river the Hudson's
Bay Company have established a trading post, where the Pends
Oreilles and the Flatheads bring their peltries to exchange for
arms, clothing and trinkets.

This tribe, like the Nez Perces, evince strong and peculiar
feelings of natural piety. Their religion is not a mere
superstitious fear, like that of most savages; they evince
abstract notions of morality; a deep reverence for an overruling
spirit, and a respect for the rights of their fellow men. In one
respect their religion partakes of the pacific doctrines of the
Quakers. They hold that the Great Spirit is displeased with all
nations who wantonly engage in war; they abstain, therefore, from
all aggressive hostilities. But though thus unoffending in their
policy, they are called upon continually to wage defensive
warfare; especially with the Blackfeet; with whom, in the course
of their hunting expeditions, they come in frequent collision and
have desperate battles. Their conduct as warriors is without fear
or reproach, and they can never be driven to abandon their
hunting grounds.

Like most savages they are firm believers in dreams, and in the
power and efficacy of charms and amulets, or medicines as they
term them. Some of their braves, also, who have had numerous
hairbreadth 'scapes, like the old Nez Perce chief in the battle
of Pierre's Hole, are believed to wear a charmed life, and to be
bullet-proof. Of these gifted beings marvelous anecdotes are
related, which are most potently believed by their fellow
savages, and sometimes almost credited by the white hunters.


                               11
                                
Rival trapping parties Manoeuvring A desperate game Vanderburgh
  and the Blackfeet Deserted camp fire A dark defile An Indian
    ambush A fierce melee Fatal consequences Fitzpatrick and
  Bridger Trappers precautions Meeting with the Blackfeet More
    fighting Anecdote of a young Mexican and an Indian girl.


WHILE Captain Bonneville and his men are sojourning among the Nez
Perces, on Salmon River, we will inquire after the fortunes of
those doughty rivals of the Rocky Mountains and American Fur
Companies, who started off for the trapping grounds to the
north-northwest.

Fitzpatrick and Bridger, of the former company, as we have
already shown, having received their supplies, had taken the
lead, and hoped to have the first sweep of the hunting grounds.
Vanderburgh and Dripps, however, the two resident partners of the
opposite company, by extraordinary exertions were enabled soon to
put themselves upon their traces, and pressed forward with such
speed as to overtake them just as they had reached the heart of
the beaver country. In fact, being ignorant of the best trapping
grounds, it was their object to follow on, and profit by the
superior knowledge of the other party.

Nothing could equal the chagrin of Fitzpatrick and Bridger at
being dogged by their inexperienced rivals, especially after
their offer to divide the country with them. They tried in every
way to blind and baffle them; to steal a march upon them, or lead
them on a wrong scent; but all in vain. Vanderburgh made up by
activity and intelligence for his ignorance of the country; was
always wary, always on the alert; discovered every movement of
his rivals, however secret and was not to be eluded or misled.

Fitzpatrick and his colleague now lost all patience; since the
others persisted in following them, they determined to give them
an unprofitable chase, and to sacrifice the hunting season rather
than share the products with their rivals. They accordingly took
up their line of march down the course of the Missouri, keeping
the main Blackfoot trail, and tramping doggedly forward, without
stopping to set a single trap. The others beat the hoof after
them for some time, but by degrees began to perceive that they
were on a wild-goose chase, and getting into a country perfectly
barren to the trapper. They now came to a halt, and be-thought
themselves how to make up for lost time, and improve the
remainder of the season. It was thought best to divide their
forces and try different trapping grounds. While Dripps went in
one direction, Vanderburgh, with about fifty men, proceeded in
another. The latter, in his headlong march had got into the very
heart of the Blackfoot country, yet seems to have been
unconscious of his danger. As his scouts were out one day, they
came upon the traces of a recent band of savages. There were the
deserted fires still smoking, surrounded by the carcasses of
buffaloes just killed. It was evident a party of Blackfeet had
been frightened from their hunting camp, and had retreated,
probably to seek reinforcements. The scouts hastened back to the
camp, and told Vanderburgh what they had seen. He made light of
the alarm, and, taking nine men with him, galloped off to
reconnoitre for himself. He found the deserted hunting camp just
as they had represented it; there lay the carcasses of buffaloes,
partly dismembered; there were the smouldering fires, still
sending up their wreaths of smoke; everything bore traces of
recent and hasty retreat; and gave reason to believe that the
savages were still lurking in the neighborhood. With heedless
daring, Vanderburgh put himself upon their trail, to trace them
to their place of concealment: It led him over prairies, and
through skirts of woodland, until it entered a dark and dangerous
ravine. Vanderburgh pushed in, without hesitation, followed by
his little band. They soon found themselves in a gloomy dell,
between steep banks overhung with trees, where the profound
silence was only broken by the tramp of their own horses.

Suddenly the horrid war-whoop burst on their ears, mingled with
the sharp report of rifles, and a legion of savages sprang from
their concealments, yelling, and shaking their buffalo robes to
frighten the horses. Vanderburgh's horse fell, mortally wounded
by the first discharge. In his fall he pinned his rider to the
ground, who called in vain upon his men to assist in extricating
him. One was shot down scalped a few paces distant; most of the
others were severely wounded, and sought their safety in flight.
The savages approached to dispatch the unfortunate leader, as he
lay struggling beneath his horse.. He had still his rifle in his
hand and his pistols in his belt. The first savage that advanced
received the contents of the rifle in his breast, and fell dead
upon the spot; but before Vanderburgh could draw a pistol, a blow
from a tomahawk laid him prostrate, and he was dispatched by
repeated wounds.

Such was the fate of Major Henry Vanderburgh, one of the best and
worthiest leaders of the American Fur Company, who by his manly
bearing and dauntless courage is said to have made himself
universally popular among the bold-hearted rovers of the
wilderness.

Those of the little band who escaped fled in consternation to the
camp, and spread direful reports of the force and ferocity of the
enemy. The party, being without a head, were in complete
confusion and dismay, and made a precipitate retreat, without
attempting to recover the remains of their butchered leader. They
made no halt until they reached the encampment of the Pends
Oreilles, or Hanging-ears, where they offered a reward for the
recovery of the body, but without success; it never could be
found.

In the meantime Fitzpatrick and Bridger, of the Rocky Mountain
Company, fared but little better than their rivals. In their
eagerness to mislead them they betrayed themselves into danger,
and got into a region infested with the Blackfeet. They soon
found that foes were on the watch for them; but they were
experienced in Indian warfare, and not to be surprised at night,
nor drawn into an ambush in the daytime. As the evening advanced,
the horses were all brought in and picketed, and a guard was
stationed round the camp. At the earliest streak of day one of
the leaders would mount his horse, and gallop off full speed for
about half a mile; then look round for Indian trails, to
ascertain whether there had been any lurkers round the camp;
returning slowly, he would reconnoitre every ravine and thicket
where there might be an ambush. This done, he would gallop off in
an opposite direction and repeat the same scrutiny. Finding all
things safe, the horses would be turned loose to graze, but
always under the eye of a guard.

A caution equally vigilant was observed in the march, on
approaching any defile or place where an enemy might lie in wait;
and scouts were always kept in the advance, or along the ridges
and rising grounds on the flanks.

At length, one day, a large band of Blackfeet appeared in the
open field, but in the vicinity of rocks and cliffs. They kept at
a wary distance, but made friendly signs. The trappers replied in
the same way, but likewise kept aloof. A small party of Indians
now advanced, bearing the pipe of peace; they were met by an
equal number of white men, and they formed a group midway between
the two bands, where the pipe was circulated from hand to hand,
and smoked with all due ceremony. An instance of natural
affection took place at this pacific meeting. Among the free
trappers in the Rocky Mountain band was a spirited young Mexican
named Loretto, who, in the course of his wanderings, had ransomed
a beautiful Blackfoot girl from a band of Crows by whom she had
been captured. He made her his wife, after the Indian style, and
she had followed his fortunes ever since, with the most devoted
affection.

Among the Blackfeet warriors who advanced with the calumet of
peace she recognized a brother. Leaving her infant with Loretto
she rushed forward and threw herself upon her brother's neck, who
clasped his long-lost sister to his heart with a warmth of
affection but little compatible with the reputed stoicism of the
savage.

While this scene was taking place, Bridger left the main body of
trappers and rode slowly toward the group of smokers, with his
rifle resting across the pommel of his saddle. The chief of the
Blackfeet stepped forward to meet him. From some unfortunate
feeling of distrust Bridger cocked his rifle just as the chief
was extending his hand in friendship. The quick ear of the savage
caught the click of the lock; in a twinkling he grasped the
barrel, forced the muzzle downward, and the contents were
discharged into the earth at his feet. His next movement was to
wrest the weapon from the hand of Bridger and fell him with it to
the earth. He might have found this no easy task had not the
unfortunate leader received two arrows in his back during the
struggle.

The chief now sprang into the vacant saddle and galloped off to
his band. A wild hurry-skurry scene ensued; each party took to
the banks, the rocks and trees, to gain favorable positions, and
an irregular firing was kept up on either side, without much
effect. The Indian girl had been hurried off by her people at the
outbreak of the affray. She would have returned, through the
dangers of the fight, to her husband and her child, but was
prevented by her brother. The young Mexican saw her struggles and
her agony, and heard her piercing cries. With a generous impulse
he caught up the child in his arms, rushed forward, regardless of
Indian shaft or rifle, and placed it in safety upon her bosom.
Even the savage heart of the Blackfoot chief was reached by this
noble deed. He pronounced Loretto a madman for his temerity, but
bade him depart in peace. The young Mexican hesitated; he urged
to have his wife restored to him, but her brother interfered, and
the countenance of the chief grew dark. The girl, he said,
belonged to his tribe-she must remain with her people. Loretto
would still have lingered, but his wife implored him to depart,
lest his life should be endangered. It was with the greatest
reluctance that he returned to his companions.

The approach of night put an end to the skirmishing fire of the
adverse parties, and the savages drew off without renewing their
hostilities. We cannot but remark that both in this affair and
that of Pierre's Hole the affray commenced by a hostile act on
the part of white men at the moment when the Indian warrior was
extending the hand of amity. In neither instance, as far as
circumstances have been stated to us by different persons, do we
see any reason to suspect the savage chiefs of perfidy in their
overtures of friendship. They advanced in the confiding way usual
among Indians when they bear the pipe of peace, and consider
themselves sacred from attack. If we violate the sanctity of this
ceremonial, by any hostile movement on our part, it is we who
incur the charge of faithlessness; and we doubt not that in both
these instances the white men have been considered by the
Blackfeet as the aggressors, and have, in consequence, been held
up as men not to be trusted.

A word to conclude the romantic incident of Loretto and his
Indian bride. A few months subsequent to the event just related,
the young Mexican settled his accounts with the Rocky Mountain
Company, and obtained his discharge. He then left his comrades
and set off to rejoin his wife and child among her people; and we
understand that, at the time we are writing these pages, he
resides at a trading-house established of late by the American
Fur Company in the Blackfoot country, where he acts as an
interpreter, and has his Indian girl with him.


                              12.
                                
A winter camp in the wilderness Medley of trappers, hunters, and
Indians Scarcity of game New arrangements in the camp Detachments
      sent to a distance Carelessness of the Indians when
 encamped Sickness among the Indians Excellent character of the
 Nez Perces The Captain's effort as a pacificator A Nez Perce's
   argument in favor of war Robberies, by the Black feet Long
    suffering of the Nez Perces A hunter's Elysium among the
 mountains More robberies The Captain preaches up a crusade The
                    effect upon his hearers.

FOR the greater part of the month of November Captain Bonneville
remained in his temporary post on Salmon River. He was now in the
full enjoyment of his wishes; leading a hunter's life in the
heart of the wilderness, with all its wild populace around him.
Beside his own people, motley in character and costume--creole,
Kentuckian, Indian, half-breed, hired trapper, and free
trapper--he was surrounded by encampments of Nez Perces and
Flatheads, with their droves of horses covering the hills and
plains. It was, he declares, a wild and bustling scene. The
hunting parties of white men and red men, continually sallying
forth and returning; the groups at the various encampments, some
cooking, some working, some amusing themselves at different
games; the neighing of horses, the braying of asses, the
resounding strokes of the axe, the sharp report of the rifle, the
whoop, the halloo, and the frequent burst of laughter, all in the
midst of a region suddenly roused from perfect silence and
loneliness by this transient hunters' sojourn, realized, he says,
the idea of a "populous solitude."

The kind and genial character of the captain had, evidently, its
influence on the opposite races thus fortuitously congregated
together. The most perfect harmony prevailed between them. The
Indians, he says, were friendly in their dispositions, and honest
to the most scrupulous degree in their intercourse with the white
men. It is true they were somewhat importunate in their
curiosity, and apt to be continually in the way, examining
everything with keen and prying eye, and watching every movement
of the white men. All this, however, was borne with great
good-humor by the captain, and through his example by his men.
Indeed, throughout all his transactions he shows himself the
friend of the poor Indians, and his conduct toward them is above
all praise.

The Nez Perces, the Flatheads, and the Hanging-ears pride
themselves upon the number of their horses, of which they possess
more in proportion than any other of the mountain tribes within
the buffalo range.  Many of the Indian warriors and hunters
encamped around Captain Bonneville possess from thirty to forty
horses each. Their horses are stout, well-built ponies, of great
wind, and capable of enduring the severest hardship and fatigue.
The swiftest of them, however, are those obtained from the whites
while sufficiently young to become acclimated and inured to the
rough service of the mountains.

By degrees the populousness of this encampment began to produce
its inconveniences.  The immense droves of horses owned by the
Indians consumed the herbage of the surrounding hills; while to
drive them to any distant pasturage, in a neighborhood abounding
with lurking and deadly enemies, would be to endanger the loss
both of man and beast. Game, too, began to grow scarce. It was
soon hunted and frightened out of the vicinity, and though the
Indians made a wide circuit through the mountains in the hope of
driving the buffalo toward the cantonment, their expedition was
unsuccessful. It was plain that so large a party could not
subsist themselves there, nor in any one place throughout the
winter. Captain Bonneville, therefore, altered his whole
arrangements. He detached fifty men toward the south to winter
upon Snake River, and to trap about its waters in the spring,
with orders to rejoin him in the month of July at Horse Creek, in
Green River Valley, which he had fixed upon as the general
rendezvous of his company for the ensuing year.

Of all his late party, he now retained with him merely a small
number of free trappers, with whom he intended to sojourn among
the Nez Perces and Flatheads, and adopt the Indian mode of moving
with the game and grass. Those bands, in effect, shortly
afterward broke up their encampments and set off for a less
beaten neighborhood. Captain Bonneville remained behind for a few
days, that he might secretly prepare caches, in which to deposit
everything not required for current use. Thus lightened of all
superfluous encumbrance, he set off on the 20th of November to
rejoin his Indian allies. He found them encamped in a secluded
part of the country, at the head of a small stream. Considering
themselves out of all danger in this sequestered spot from their
old enemies, the Blackfeet, their encampment manifested the most
negligent security. Their lodges were scattered in every
direction, and their horses covered every hill for a great
distance round, grazing upon the upland bunch grass which grew in
great abundance, and though dry, retained its nutritious
properties instead of losing them like other grasses in the
autumn.

When the Nez Perces, Flatheads, and Pends Oreilles are encamped
in a dangerous neighborhood, says Captain Bonneville, the
greatest care is taken of their horses, those prime articles of
Indian wealth, and objects of Indian depredation.  Each warrior
has his horse tied by one foot at night to a stake planted before
his lodge. Here they remain until broad daylight; by that time
the young men of the camp are already ranging over the
surrounding hills. Each family then drives its horses to some
eligible spot, where they are left to graze unattended. A young
Indian repairs occasionally to the pasture to give them water,
and to see that all is well. So accustomed are the horses to this
management, that they keep together in the pasture where they
have been left. As the sun sinks behind the hills, they may be
seen moving from all points toward the camp, where they surrender
themselves to be tied up for the night. Even in situations of
danger, the Indians rarely set guards over their camp at night,
intrusting that office entirely to their vigilant and
well-trained dogs.

In an encampment, however, of such fancied security as that in
which Captain Bonneville found his Indian friends, much of these
precautions with respect to their horses are omitted. They merely
drive them, at nightfall, to some sequestered little dell, and
leave them there, at perfect liberty, until the morning.

One object of Captain Bonneville in wintering among these Indians
was to procure a supply of horses against the spring. They were,
however, extremely unwilling to part with any, and it was with
great difficulty that he purchased, at the rate of twenty dollars
each, a few for the use of some of his free trappers who were on
foot and dependent on him for their equipment.

In this encampment Captain Bonneville remained from the 21st of
November to the 9th of December. During this period the
thermometer ranged from thirteen to forty-two degrees. There were
occasional falls of snow; but it generally melted away almost
immediately, and the tender blades of new grass began to shoot up
among the old. On the 7th of December, however, the thermometer
fell to seven degrees.

The reader will recollect that, on distributing his forces when
in Green River Valley, Captain Bonneville had detached a party,
headed by a leader of the name of Matthieu, with all the weak and
disabled horses, to sojourn about Bear River, meet the Shoshonie
bands, and afterward to rejoin him at his winter camp on Salmon
River.

More than sufficient time had elapsed, yet Matthieu failed to
make his appearance, and uneasiness began to be felt on his
account. Captain Bonneville sent out four men, to range the
country through which he would have to pass, and endeavor to get
some information concerning him; for his route lay across the
great Snake River plain, which spreads itself out like an Arabian
desert, and on which a cavalcade could be descried at a great
distance. The scouts soon returned, having proceeded no further
than the edge of the plain, pretending that their horses were
lame; but it was evident they had feared to venture, with so
small a force, into these exposed and dangerous regions.

A disease, which Captain Bonneville supposed to be pneumonia, now
appeared among the Indians, carrying off numbers of them after an
illness of three or four days. The worthy captain acted as
physician, prescribing profuse sweatings and copious bleedings,
and uniformly with success, if the patient were subsequently
treated with proper care. In extraordinary cases, the poor
savages called in the aid of their own doctors or conjurors, who
officiated with great noise and mummery, but with little benefit.
Those who died during this epidemic were buried in graves, after
the manner of the whites, but without any regard to the direction
of the head. It is a fact worthy of notice that, while this
malady made such ravages among the natives, not a single white
man had the slightest symptom of it.

A familiar intercourse of some standing with the Pierced-nose and
Flathead Indians had now convinced Captain Bonneville of their
amicable and inoffensive character; he began to take a strong
interest in them, and conceived the idea of becoming a
pacificator, and healing the deadly feud between them and the
Blackfeet, in which they were so deplorably the sufferers. He
proposed the matter to some of the leaders, and urged that they
should meet the Blackfeet chiefs in a grand pacific conference,
offering to send two of his men to the enemy's camp with pipe,
tobacco and flag of truce, to negotiate the proposed meeting.

The Nez Perces and Flathead sages upon this held a council of war
of two days' duration, in which there was abundance of hard
smoking and long talking, and both eloquence and tobacco were
nearly exhausted. At length they came to a decision to reject the
worthy captain's proposition, and upon pretty substantial
grounds, as the reader may judge.

"War," said the chiefs, "is a bloody business, and full of evil;
but it keeps the eyes of the chiefs always open, and makes the
limbs of the young men strong and supple. In war, every one is on
the alert. If we see a trail we know it must be an enemy; if the
Blackfeet come to us, we know it is for war, and we are ready.
Peace, on the other hand, sounds no alarm; the eyes of the chiefs
are closed in sleep, and the young men are sleek and lazy. The
horses stray into the mountains; the women and their little babes
go about alone. But the heart of a Blackfoot is a lie, and his
tongue is a trap. If he says peace it is to deceive; he comes to
us as a brother; he smokes his pipe with us; but when he sees us
weak, and off our guard, he will slay and steal. We will have no
such peace; let there be war!"

With this reasoning Captain Bonneville was fain to acquiesce;
but, since the sagacious Flatheads and their allies were content
to remain in a state of warfare, he wished them at least to
exercise the boasted vigilance which war was to produce, and to
keep their eyes open. He represented to them the impossibility
that two such considerable clans could move about the country
without leaving trails by which they might be traced. Besides,
among the Blackfeet braves were several Nez Perces, who had been
taken prisoners in early youth, adopted by their captors, and
trained up and imbued with warlike and predatory notions; these
had lost all sympathies with their native tribe, and would be
prone to lead the enemy to their secret haunts. He exhorted them,
therefore, to keep upon the alert, and never to remit their
vigilance while within the range of so crafty and cruel a foe.
All these counsels were lost upon his easy and simple-minded
hearers. A careless indifference reigned throughout their
encampments, and their horses were permitted to range the hills
at night in perfect freedom. Captain Bonneville had his own
horses brought in at night, and properly picketed and guarded.
The evil he apprehended soon took place. In a single night a
swoop was made through the neighboring pastures by the Blackfeet,
and eighty-six of the finest horses carried off. A whip and a
rope were left in a conspicuous situation by the robbers, as a
taunt to the simpletons they had unhorsed.

Long before sunrise the news of this calamity spread like
wildfire through the different encampments. Captain Bonneville,
whose own horses remained safe at their pickets, watched in
momentary expectation of an outbreak of warriors, Pierced-nose
and Flathead, in furious pursuit of the marauders; but no such
thing -- they contented themselves with searching diligently over
hill and dale, to glean up such horses as had escaped the hands
of the marauders, and then resigned themselves to their loss with
the most exemplary quiescence.

Some, it is true, who were entirely unhorsed, set out on a
begging visit to their cousins, as they called them, the Lower
Nez Perces, who inhabit the lower country about the Columbia, and
possess horses in abundance. To these they repair when in
difficulty, and seldom fail, by dint of begging and bartering, to
get themselves once more mounted on horseback.

Game had now become scarce in the neighborhood of the camp, and
it was necessary, according to Indian custom, to move off to a
less beaten ground.  Captain Bonneville proposed the Horse
Prairie; but his Indian friends objected that many of the Nez
Perces had gone to visit their cousins, and that the whites were
few in number, so that their united force was not sufficient to
Venture upon the buffalo grounds, which were infested by bands of
Blackfeet.

They now spoke of a place at no great distance, which they
represented as a perfect hunter's elysium. It was on the right
branch, or head stream of the river, locked up among cliffs and
precipices where there was no danger from roving bands, and where
the Blackfeet dare not enter. Here, they said, the elk abounded,
and the mountain sheep were to be seen trooping upon the rocks
and hills.  A little distance beyond it, also, herds of buffalo
were to be met with, Out of range of danger. Thither they
proposed to move their camp.

The proposition pleased the captain, who was desirous, through
the Indians, of becoming acquainted with all the secret places of
the land. Accordingly, on the 9th of December, they struck their
tents, and moved forward by short stages, as many of the Indians
were yet feeble from the late malady.

Following up the right fork of the river they came to where it
entered a deep gorge of the mountains, up which lay the secluded
region so much valued by the Indians. Captain Bonneville halted
and encamped for three days before entering the gorge. In the
meantime he detached five of his free trappers to scour the
hills, and kill as many elk as possible, before the main body
should enter, as they would then be soon frightened away by the
various Indian hunting parties.

While thus encamped, they were still liable to the marauds of the
Blackfeet, and Captain Bonneville admonished his Indian friends
to be upon their guard. The Nez Perces, however, notwithstanding
their recent loss, were still careless of their horses; merely
driving them to some secluded spot, and leaving them there for
the night, without setting any guard upon them. The consequence
was a second swoop, in which forty-one were carried off. This was
borne with equal philosophy with the first, and no effort was
made either to recover the horses, or to take vengeance on the
thieves.

The Nez Perces, however, grew more cautious with respect to their
remaining horses, driving them regularly to the camp every
evening, and fastening them to pickets. Captain Bonneville,
however, told them that this was not enough. It was evident they
were dogged by a daring and persevering enemy, who was encouraged
by past impunity; they should, therefore, take more than usual
precautions, and post a guard at night over their cavalry. They
could not, however, be persuaded to depart from their usual
custom. The horse once picketed, the care of the owner was over
for the night, and he slept profoundly. None waked in the camp
but the gamblers, who, absorbed in their play, were more
difficult to be roused to external circumstances than even the
sleepers.

The Blackfeet are bold enemies, and fond of hazardous exploits.
The band that were hovering about the neighborhood, finding that
they had such pacific people to deal with, redoubled their
daring. The horses being now picketed before the lodges, a number
of Blackfeet scouts penetrated in the early part of the night
into the very centre of the camp. Here they went about among the
lodges as calmly and deliberately as if at home, quietly cutting
loose the horses that stood picketed by the lodges of their
sleeping owners. One of these prowlers, more adventurous than the
rest, approached a fire round which a group of Nez Perces were
gambling with the most intense eagerness. Here he stood for some
time, muffled up in his robe, peering over the shoulders of the
players, watching the changes of their countenances and the
fluctuations of the game. So completely engrossed were they, that
the presence of this muffled eaves-dropper was unnoticed and,
having executed his bravado, he retired undiscovered.

Having cut loose as many horses as they could conveniently carry
off, the Blackfeet scouts rejoined their comrades, and all
remained patiently round the camp. By degrees the horses, finding
themselves at liberty, took their route toward their customary
grazing ground. As they emerged from the camp they were silently
taken possession of, until, having secured about thirty, the
Blackfeet sprang on their backs and scampered off. The clatter of
hoofs startled the gamblers from their game. They gave the alarm,
which soon roused the sleepers from every lodge. Still all was
quiescent; no marshalling of forces, no saddling of steeds and
dashing off in pursuit, no talk of retribution for their repeated
outrages. The patience of Captain Bonneville was at length
exhausted. He had played the part of a pacificator without
success; he now altered his tone, and resolved, if possible, to
rouse their war spirit.

Accordingly, convoking their chiefs, he inveighed against their
craven policy, and urged the necessity of vigorous and
retributive measures that would check the confidence and
presumption of their enemies, if not inspire them with awe. For
this purpose, he advised that a war party should be immediately
sent off on the trail of the marauders, to follow them, if
necessary, into the very heart of the Blackfoot country, and not
to leave them until they had taken signal vengeance. Beside this,
he recommended the organization of minor war parties, to make
reprisals to the extent of the losses sustained. "Unless you
rouse yourselves from your apathy," said he, "and strike some
bold and decisive blow, you will cease to be considered men, or
objects of manly warfare. The very squaws and children of the
Blackfeet will be set against you, while their warriors reserve
themselves for nobler antagonists."

This harangue had evidently a momentary effect upon the pride of
the hearers. After a short pause, however, one of the orators
arose. It was bad, he said, to go to war for mere revenge.  The
Great Spirit had given them a heart for peace, not for war. They
had lost horses, it was true, but they could easily get others
from their cousins, the Lower Nez Perces, without incurring any
risk; whereas, in war they should lose men, who were not so
readily replaced. As to their late losses, an increased
watchfulness would prevent any more misfortunes of the kind. He
disapproved, therefore, of all hostile measures; and all the
other chiefs concurred in his opinion.

Captain Bonneville again took up the point. "It is true," said
he, "the Great Spirit has given you a heart to love your friends;
but he has also given you an arm to strike your enemies. Unless
you do something speedily to put an end to this continual
plundering, I must say farewell. As yet I have sustained no loss;
thanks to the precautions which you have slighted; but my
property is too unsafe here; my turn will come next; I and my
people will share the contempt you are bringing upon yourselves,
and will be thought, like you, poor-spirited beings, who may at
any time be plundered with impunity."

The conference broke up with some signs of excitement on the part
of the Indians. Early the next morning, a party of thirty men set
off in pursuit of the foe, and Captain Bonneville hoped to hear a
good account of the Blackfeet marauders. To his disappointment,
the war party came lagging back on the following day, leading a
few old, sorry, broken-down horses, which the free-booters had
not been able to urge to sufficient speed. This effort exhausted
the martial spirit, and satisfied the wounded pride of the Nez
Perces, and they relapsed into their usual state of passive
indifference.


                              13.
                                
            Story of Kosato, the Renegade Blackfoot.

IF the meekness and long-suffering of the Pierced-noses grieved
the spirit of Captain Bonneville, there was another individual in
the camp to whom they were still more annoying. This was a
Blackfoot renegado, named Kosato, a fiery hot-blooded youth who,
with a beautiful girl of the same tribe, had taken refuge among
the Nez  Perces.  Though  adopted  into the tribe, he still
retained the warlike spirit of his race, and loathed the
peaceful, inoffensive habits of those around him. The hunting of
the deer, the elk, and the buffalo, which was the height of their
ambition, was too tame to satisfy his wild and restless nature. 
His heart burned for the foray, the ambush, the skirmish, the
scamper, and all the haps and hazards of roving and predatory
warfare.

The recent hoverings of the Blackfeet about the camp, their
nightly prowls and daring and successful marauds, had kept him in
a fever and a flutter, like a hawk in a cage who hears his late
companions swooping and screaming in wild liberty above him.  The
attempt of Captain Bonneville to rouse the war spirit of the Nez
Perces, and prompt them to retaliation, was ardently seconded by
Kosato. For several days he was incessantly devising schemes of
vengeance, and endeavoring to set on foot an expedition that
should carry dismay and desolation into the Blackfeet town. All
his art was exerted to touch upon those springs of human action
with which he was most familiar. He drew the listening savages
round him by his nervous eloquence; taunted them with recitals of
past wrongs and insults; drew glowing pictures of triumphs and
trophies within their reach; recounted tales of daring and
romantic enterprise, of secret marchings, covert lurkings,
midnight surprisals, sackings, burnings, plunderings, scalpings;
together with the triumphant return, and the feasting and
rejoicing of the victors. These wild tales were intermingled with
the beating of the drum, the yell, the war-whoop and the
war-dance, so inspiring to Indian valor. All, however, were lost
upon the peaceful spirits of his hearers; not a Nez Perce was to
be roused to vengeance, or stimulated to glorious war. In the
bitterness of his heart, the Blackfoot renegade repined at the
mishap which had severed him from a race of congenial spirits,
and driven him to take refuge among beings so destitute of
martial fire.

The character and conduct of this man attracted the attention of
Captain Bonneville, and he was anxious to hear the reason why he
had deserted his tribe, and why he looked back upon them with
such deadly hostility. Kosato told him his own story briefly: it
gives a picture of the deep, strong passions that work in the
bosoms of these miscalled stoics.

"You see my wife," said he, "she is good; she is beautiful --I
love her.  Yet she has been the cause of all my troubles. She was
the wife of my chief. I loved her more than he did; and she knew
it. We talked together; we laughed together; we were always
seeking each other's society; but we were as innocent as
children. The chief grew jealous, and commanded her to speak with
me no more. His heart became hard toward her; his jealousy grew
more furious. He beat her without cause and without mercy; and
threatened to kill her outright if she even looked at me. Do you
want traces of his fury? Look at that scar! His rage against me
was no less persecuting. War parties of the Crows were hovering
round us; our young men had seen their trail. All hearts were
roused for action; my horses were before my lodge. Suddenly the
chief came, took them to his own pickets, and called them his
own. What could I do? he was a chief. I durst not speak, but my
heart was burning. I joined no longer in the council, the hunt,
or the war-feast. What had I to do there? an unhorsed, degraded
warrior. I kept by myself, and thought of nothing but these
wrongs and outrages.

"I was sitting one evening upon a knoll that overlooked the
meadow where the horses were pastured. I saw the horses that were
once mine grazing among those of the chief. This maddened me, and
I sat brooding for a time over the injuries I had suffered, and
the cruelties which she I loved had endured for my sake, until my
heart swelled and grew sore, and my teeth were clinched. As I
looked down upon the meadow I saw the chief walking among his
horses. I fastened my eyes upon him as a hawk's; my blood boiled;
I drew my breath hard. He went among the willows. In an instant I
was on my feet; my hand was on my knife --I flew rather than ran
-- before he was aware I sprang upon him, and with two blows laid
him dead at my feet. I covered his body with earth, and strewed
bushes over the place; then I hastened to her I loved, told her
what I had done, and urged her to fly with me. She only answered
me with tears. I reminded her of the wrongs I had suffered, and
of the blows and stripes she had endured from the deceased; I had
done nothing but an act of justice. I again urged her to fly; but
she only wept the more, and bade me go. My heart was heavy, but
my eyes were dry. I folded my arms. ' 'Tis well,' said I; 'Kosato
will go alone to the desert. None will be with him but the wild
beasts of the desert. The seekers of blood may follow on his
trail. They may come upon him when he sleeps and glut their
revenge; but you will be safe. Kosato will go alone.

"I turned away. She sprang after me, and strained me in her arms.
'No,' she cried, 'Kosato shall not go alone! Wherever he goes I
will go -- he shall never part from me.

"'We hastily took in our hands such things as we most needed, and
stealing quietly from the village, mounted the first horses we
encountered. Speeding day and night, we soon reached this tribe.
They received us with welcome, and we have dwelt with them in
peace. They are good and kind; they are honest; but their hearts
are the hearts of women.

Such was the story of Kosato, as related by him to Captain
Bonneville. It is of a kind that often occurs in Indian life;
where love elopements from tribe to tribe are as frequent as
among the novel-read heroes and heroines of sentimental
civilization, and often give rise to bloods and lasting feuds.


                               14
                                
   The party enters the mountain gorge A wild fastness among
  hills Mountain mutton Peace and plenty The amorous trapper-A
   piebald wedding-A free trapper's wife-Her gala equipments-
                  Christmas in the wilderness.

ON the 19th of December Captain Bonneville and his confederate
Indians raised their camp, and entered the narrow gorge made by
the north fork of Salmon River. Up this lay the secure and
plenteous hunting region so temptingly described by the Indians.

Since leaving Green River the plains had invariably been of loose
sand or coarse gravel, and the rocky formation of the mountains
of primitive limestone.  The rivers, in general, were skirted
with willows and bitter cottonwood trees, and the prairies
covered with wormwood.  In the hollow breast of the mountains
which they were now penetrating, the surrounding heights were
clothed with pine; while the declivities of the lower hills
afforded abundance of bunch grass for the horses.

As the Indians had represented, they were now in a natural
fastness of the mountains, the ingress and egress of which was by
a deep gorge, so narrow, rugged, and difficult as to prevent
secret approach or rapid retreat, and to admit of easy defence.
The Blackfeet, therefore, refrained from venturing in after the
Nez Perces, awaiting a better chance, when they should once more
emerge into the open country.

Captain Bonneville soon found that the Indians had not
exaggerated the advantages of this region.  Besides the numerous
gangs of elk, large flocks of the ahsahta or bighorn, the
mountain sheep, were to be seen bounding among the precipices. 
These simple animals were easily circumvented and destroyed.  A
few hunters may surround a flock and kill as many as they please. 
Numbers were daily brought into camp, and the flesh of those
which were young and fat was extolled as superior to the finest
mutton.

Here, then, there was a cessation from toil, from hunger, and
alarm.  Past ills and dangers were forgotten. The hunt, the game,
the song, the story, the rough though good-humored joke, made
time pass joyously away, and plenty and security reigned
throughout the camp.

Idleness and ease, it is said, lead to love, and love to
matrimony, in civilized life, and the same process takes place in
the wilderness.  Filled with good cheer and mountain mutton, one
of the free trappers began to repine at the solitude of his
lodge, and to experience the force of that great law of nature,
"it is not meet for man to live alone.''

After a night of grave cogitation he repaired to Kowsoter, the
Pierced-nose chief, and unfolded to him the secret workings of
his bosom.

"I want," said he, "a wife. Give me one from among your tribe.
Not a young, giddy-pated girl, that will think of nothing but
flaunting and finery, but a sober, discreet, hard-working squaw;
one that will share my lot without flinching, however hard it may
be; that can take care of my lodge, and be a companion and a
helpmate to me in the wilderness." Kowsoter promised to look
round among the females of his tribe, and procure such a one as
he desired. Two days were requisite for the search. At the
expiration of these, Kowsoter, called at his lodge, and informed
him that he would bring his bride to him in the course of the
afternoon. He kept his word. At the appointed time he approached,
leading the bride, a comely copper-colored dame attired in her
Indian finery. Her father, mother, brothers by the half dozen and
cousins by the score, all followed on to grace the ceremony and
greet the new and important relative.

The trapper received his new and numerous family connection with
proper solemnity; he placed his bride beside him, and, filling
the pipe, the great symbol of peace, with his best tobacco, took
two or three whiffs, then handed it to the chief who transferred
it to the father of the bride, from whom it was passed on from
hand to hand and mouth to mouth of the whole circle of kinsmen
round the fire, all maintaining the most profound and becoming
silence.

After several pipes had been filled and emptied in this solemn
ceremonial, the chief addressed the bride, detailing at
considerable length the duties of a wife which, among Indians,
are little less onerous than those of the pack-horse; this done,
he turned to her friends and congratulated them upon the great
alliance she had made. They showed a due sense of their good
fortune, especially when the nuptial presents came to be
distributed among the chiefs and relatives, amounting to about
one hundred and eighty dollars. The company soon retired, and now
the worthy trapper found indeed that he had no green girl to deal
with; for the knowing dame at once assumed the style and dignity
of a trapper's wife: taking possession of the lodge as her
undisputed empire, arranging everything according to her own
taste and habitudes, and appearing as much at home and on as easy
terms with the trapper as if they had been man and wife for
years.

We have already given a picture of a free trapper and his horse,
as furnished by Captain Bonneville: we shall here subjoin, as a
companion picture, his description of a free trapper's wife, that
the reader may have a correct idea of the kind of blessing the
worthy hunter in question had invoked to solace him in the
wilderness.

"The free trapper, while a bachelor, has no greater pet than his
horse; but the moment he takes a wife (a sort of brevet rank in
matrimony occasionally bestowed upon some Indian fair one, like
the heroes of ancient chivalry in the open field), he discovers
that he has a still more fanciful and capricious animal on which
to lavish his expenses.

"No sooner does an Indian belle experience this promotion, than
all her notions at once rise and expand to the dignity of her
situation, and the purse of her lover, and his credit into the
bargain, are taxed to the utmost to fit her out in becoming
style. The wife of a free trapper to be equipped and arrayed like
any ordinary and undistinguished squaw? Perish the grovelling
thought! In the first place, she must have a horse for her own
riding; but no jaded, sorry, earth-spirited hack, such as is
sometimes assigned by an Indian husband for the transportation of
his squaw and her pappooses: the wife of a free trader must have
the most beautiful animal she can lay her eyes on. And then, as
to his decoration: headstall, breast-bands, saddle and crupper
are lavishly embroidered with beads, and hung with thimbles,
hawks' bells, and bunches of ribbons. From each side of the
saddle hangs an esquimoot, a sort of pocket, in which she bestows
the residue of her trinkets and nick-nacks, which cannot be
crowded on the decoration of her horse or herself. Over this she
folds, with great care, a drapery of scarlet and bright-colored
calicoes, and now considers the caparison of her steed complete.

"As to her own person, she is even still more extravagant. Her
hair, esteemed beautiful in proportion to its length, is
carefully plaited, and made to fall with seeming negligence over
either breast. Her riding hat is stuck full of parti-colored
feathers; her robe, fashioned somewhat after that of the whites,
is of red, green, and sometimes gray cloth, but always of the
finest texture that can be procured. Her leggings and moccasins
are of the most beautiful and expensive workman-ship, and fitted
neatly to the foot and ankle, which with the Indian woman are
generally well formed and delicate. Then as to jewelry: in the
way of finger-rings, ear-rings, necklaces, and other female
glories, nothing within reach of the trapper's means is omitted
that can tend to impress the beholder with an idea of the lady's
high estate. To finish the whole, she selects from among her
blankets of various dyes one of some glowing color, and throwing
it over her shoulders with a native grace, vaults into the saddle
of her gay, prancing steed, and is ready to follow her
mountaineer 'to the last gasp with love and loyalty.' "

Such is the general picture of the free trapper's wife, given by
Captain Bonneville; how far it applied in its details to the one
in question does not altogether appear, though it would seem from
the outset of her connubial career, that she was ready to avail
herself of all the pomp and circumstance of her new condition. It
is worthy of mention that wherever there are several wives of
free trappers in a camp, the keenest rivalry exists between them,
to the sore detriment of their husbands' purses. Their whole time
is expended and their ingenuity tasked by endeavors to eclipse
each other in dress and decoration. The jealousies and
heart-burnings thus occasioned among these so-styled children of
nature are equally intense with those of the rival leaders of
style and fashion in the luxurious abodes of civilized life.

The genial festival of Christmas, which throughout all
Christendom lights up the fireside of home with mirth and
jollity, followed hard upon the wedding just described. Though
far from kindred and friends, Captain Bonneville and his handful
of free trappers were not disposed to suffer the festival to pass
unenjoyed; they were in a region of good cheer, and were disposed
to be joyous; so it was determined to "light up the yule clog,"
and celebrate a merry Christmas in the heart of the wilderness.

On Christmas eve, accordingly, they began their rude fetes and
rejoicings.  In the course of the night the free trappers
surrounded the lodge of the Pierced-nose chief and in lieu of
Christmas carols, saluted him with a feude joie.

Kowsoter received it in a truly Christian spirit, and after a
speech, in which he expressed his high gratification at the honor
done him, invited the whole company to a feast on the following
day.  His invitation was gladly accepted. A Christmas dinner in
the wigwam of an Indian chief! There was novelty in the idea. Not
one failed to be present. The banquet was served up in primitive
style: skins of various kinds, nicely dressed for the occasion,
were spread upon the ground; upon these were heaped up abundance
of venison, elk meat, and mountain mutton, with various bitter
roots which the Indians use as condiments.

After a short prayer, the company all seated themselves
cross-legged, in Turkish fashion, to the banquet, which passed
off with great hilarity. After which various games of strength
and agility by both white men and Indians closed the Christmas
festivities.



                              15.
                                
  A hunt after hunters Hungry times A voracious repast Wintry
 weather Godin's River Splendid winter scene on the great Lava
   Plain of Snake River Severe travelling and tramping in the
snow Manoeuvres of a solitary Indian horseman Encampment on Snake
    River Banneck Indians The horse chief His charmed life.

THE continued absence of Matthieu and his party had, by this
time, caused great uneasiness in the mind of Captain Bonneville;
and, finding there was no dependence to be placed upon the
perseverance and courage of scouting parties in so perilous a
quest, he determined to set out himself on the search, and to
keep on until he should ascertain something of the object of his
solicitude.

Accordingly on the 20th December he left the camp, accompanied by
thirteen stark trappers and hunters, all well mounted and armed
for dangerous enterprise. On the following morning they passed
out at the head of the mountain gorge and sallied forth into the
open plain. As they confidently expected a brush with the
Blackfeet, or some other predatory horde, they moved with great
circumspection, and kept vigilant watch in their encampments.

In the course of another day they left the main branch of Salmon
River, and proceeded south toward a pass called John Day's
defile. It was severe and arduous travelling. The plains were
swept by keen and bitter blasts of wintry wind; the ground was
generally covered with snow, game was scarce, so that hunger
generally prevailed in the camp, while the want of pasturage soon
began to manifest itself in the declining vigor of the horses.

The party had scarcely encamped on the afternoon of the 28th,
when two of the hunters who had sallied forth in quest of game
came galloping back in great alarm. While hunting they had
perceived a party of savages, evidently manoeuvring to cut them
off from the camp; and nothing had saved them from being
entrapped but the speed of their horses.

These tidings struck dismay into the camp. Captain Bonneville
endeavored to reassure his men by representing the position of
their encampment, and its capability of defence.  He then ordered
the horses to be driven in and picketed, and threw up a rough
breastwork of fallen trunks of trees and the vegetable rubbish of
the wilderness. Within this barrier was maintained a vigilant
watch throughout the night, which passed away without alarm. At
early dawn they scrutinized the surrounding plain, to discover
whether any enemies had been lurking about during the night; not
a foot-print, however, was to be discovered in the coarse gravel
with which the plain was covered.

Hunger now began to cause more uneasiness than the apprehensions
of surrounding enemies. After marching a few miles they encamped
at the foot of a mountain, in hopes of finding buffalo. It was
not until the next day that they discovered a pair of fine bulls
on the edge of the plain, among rocks and ravines. Having now
been two days and a half without a mouthful of food, they took
especial care that these animals should not escape them.  While
some of the surest marksmen advanced cautiously with their rifles
into the rough ground, four of the best mounted horsemen took
their stations in the plain, to run the bulls down should they
only be maimed.

The buffalo were wounded and set off in headlong flight.  The
half-famished horses were too weak to overtake them on the frozen
ground, but succeeded in driving them on the ice, where they
slipped and fell, and were easily dispatched. The hunters loaded
themselves with beef for present and future supply, and then
returned and encamped at the last nights's fire.  Here they
passed the remainder of the day, cooking and eating with a
voracity proportioned to previous starvation, forgetting in the
hearty revel of the moment the certain dangers with which they
were environed.

The cravings of hunger being satisfied, they now began to debate
about their further progress. The men were much disheartened by
the hardships they had already endured. Indeed, two who had been
in the rear guard, taking advantage of their position, had
deserted and returned to the lodges of the Nez Perces. The
prospect ahead was enough to stagger the stoutest heart. They
were in the dead of winter. As far as the eye could reach the
wild landscape was wrapped in snow, which was evidently deepening
as they advanced.  Over this they would have to toil, with the
icy wind blowing in their faces:  their horses might give out
through want of pasturage, and they themselves must expect
intervals of horrible famine like that they had already
experienced.

With Captain Bonneville, however, perseverance was a matter of
pride; and, having undertaken this enterprise, nothing could turn
him back until it was accomplished: though he declares that, had
he anticipated the difficulties and sufferings which attended it,
he should have flinched from the undertaking.

Onward, therefore, the little band urged their way, keeping along
the course of a stream called John Day's Creek. The cold was so
intense that they had frequently to dismount and travel on foot,
lest they should freeze in their saddles. The days which at this
season are short enough even in the open prairies, were narrowed
to a few hours by the high mountains, which allowed the
travellers but a brief enjoyment of the cheering rays of the sun. 
The snow was generally at least twenty inches in depth, and in
many places much more: those who dismounted had to beat their way
with toilsome steps. Eight miles were considered a good day's
journey. The horses were almost famished; for the herbage was
covered by the deep snow, so that they had nothing to subsist
upon but scanty wisps of the dry bunch grass which peered above
the surface, and the small branches and twigs of frozen willows
and wormwood.

In this way they urged their slow and painful course to the south
down John Day's Creek, until it lost itself in a swamp. Here they
encamped upon the ice among stiffened willows, where they were
obliged to beat down and clear away the snow to procure pasturage
for their horses.

Hence they toiled on to Godin River; so called after an Iroquois
hunter in the service of Sublette, who was murdered there by the
Blackfeet. Many of the features of this remote wilderness are
thus named after scenes of violence and bloodshed that occurred
to the early pioneers. It was an act of filial vengeance on the
part of Godin's son Antoine that, as the reader may recollect,
brought on the recent battle at Pierre's Hole.

From Godin's River, Captain Bonneville and his followers came out
upon the plain of the Three Butes, so called from three singular
and isolated hills that rise from the midst. It is a part of the
great desert of Snake River, one of the most remarkable tracts
beyond the mountains. Could they have experienced a respite from
their sufferings and anxieties, the immense landscape spread out
before them was calculated to inspire admiration. Winter has its
beauties and glories as well as summer; and Captain Bonneville
had the soul to appreciate them.

Far away, says he, over the vast plains, and up the steep sides
of the lofty mountains, the snow lay spread in dazzling
whiteness: and whenever the sun emerged in the morning above the
giant peaks, or burst forth from among clouds in his midday
course, mountain and dell, glazed rock and frosted tree, glowed
and sparkled with surpassing lustre. The tall pines seemed
sprinkled with a silver dust, and the willows, studded with
minute icicles reflecting the prismatic rays, brought to mind the
fairy trees conjured up by the caliph's story-teller to adorn his
vale of diamonds.

The poor wanderers, however, nearly starved with hunger and cold,
were in no mood to enjoy the glories of these brilliant scenes;
though they stamped pictures on their memory which have been
recalled with delight in more genial situations.

Encamping at the west Bute, they found a place swept by the
winds, so that it was bare of snow, and there was abundance of
bunch grass.  Here the horses were turned loose to graze
throughout the night. Though for once they had ample pasturage,
yet the keen winds were so intense that, in the morning, a mule
was found frozen to death.  The trappers gathered round and
mourned over him as over a cherished friend. They feared their
half-famished horses would soon share his fate, for there seemed
scarce blood enough left in their veins to withstand the freezing
cold. To beat the way further through the snow with these
enfeebled animals seemed next to impossible; and despondency
began to creep over their hearts, when, fortunately, they
discovered a trail made by some hunting party. Into this they
immediately entered, and proceeded with less difficulty. Shortly
afterward, a fine buffalo bull came bounding across the snow and
was instantly brought down by the hunters. A fire was soon
blazing and crackling, and an ample repast soon cooked, and
sooner dispatched; after which they made some further progress
and then encamped. One of the men reached the camp nearly frozen
to death; but good cheer and a blazing fire gradually restored
life, and put his blood in circulation.

Having now a beaten path, they proceeded the next morning with
more facility; indeed, the snow decreased in depth as they
receded from the mountains, and the temperature became more mild.
In the course of the day they discovered a solitary horseman
hovering at a distance before them on the plain. They spurred on
to overtake him; but he was better mounted on a fresher steed,
and kept at a wary distance, reconnoitring them with evident
distrust; for the wild dress of the free trappers, their
leggings, blankets, and cloth caps garnished with fur and topped
off with feathers, even their very elf-locks and weather-bronzed
complexions, gave them the look of Indians rather than white men,
and made him mistake them for a war party of some hostile tribe.

After much manoeuvring, the wild horseman was at length brought
to a parley; but even then he conducted himself with the caution
of a knowing prowler of the prairies. Dismounting from his horse,
and using him as a breastwork, he levelled his gun across his
back, and, thus prepared for defence like a wary cruiser upon the
high seas, he permitted himself to be approached within speaking
distance.

He proved to be an Indian of the Banneck tribe, belonging to a
band at no great distance. It was some time before he could be
persuaded that he was conversing with a party of white men and
induced to lay aside his reserve and join them. He then gave them
the interesting intelligence that there were two companies of
white men encamped in the neighborhood. This was cheering news to
Captain Bonneville; who hoped to find in one of them the
long-sought party of Matthieu. Pushing forward, therefore, with
renovated spirits, he reached Snake River by nightfall, and there
fixed his encampment.

Early the next morning (13th January, 1833) , diligent search was
made about the neighborhood for traces of the reported parties of
white men. An encampment was soon discovered about four miles
farther up the river, in which Captain Bonneville to his great
joy found two of Matthieu's men, from whom he learned that the
rest of his party would be there in the course of a few days. It
was a matter of great pride and selfgratulation to Captain
Bonneville that he had thus accomplished his dreary and doubtful
enterprise; and he determined to pass some time in this
encampment, both to await the return of Matthieu, and to give
needful repose to men and horses.

It was, in fact, one of the most eligible and delightful
wintering grounds in that whole range of country. The Snake River
here wound its devious way between low banks through the great
plain of the Three Butes; and was bordered by wide and fertile
meadows. It was studded with islands which, like the alluvial
bottoms, were covered with groves of cotton-wood, thickets of
willow, tracts of good lowland grass, and abundance of green
rushes. The adjacent plains were so vast in extent that no single
band of Indians could drive the buffalo out of them; nor was the
snow of sufficient depth to give any serious inconvenience.
Indeed, during the sojourn of Captain Bonneville in this
neighborhood, which was in the heart of winter, he found the
weather, with the exception of a few cold and stormy days,
generally mild and pleasant, freezing a little at night but
invariably thawing with the morning's sun-resembling the spring
weather in the middle parts of the United States.

The lofty range of the Three Tetons, those great landmarks of the
Rocky Mountains rising in the east and circling away to the north
and west of the great plain of Snake River, and the mountains of
Salt River and Portneuf toward the south, catch the earliest
falls of snow. Their white robes lengthen as the winter advances,
and spread themselves far into the plain, driving the buffalo in
herds to the banks of the river in quest of food; where they are
easily slain in great numbers.

Such were the palpable advantages of this winter encampment;
added to which, it was secure from the prowlings and plunderings
of any petty band of roving Blackfeet, the difficulties of
retreat rendering it unwise for those crafty depredators to
venture an attack unless with an overpowering force.

About ten miles below the encampment lay the Banneck Indians;
numbering about one hundred and twenty lodges. They are brave and
cunning warriors and deadly foes of the Blackfeet, whom they
easily overcome in battles where their forces are equal. They are
not vengeful and enterprising in warfare, however; seldom sending
war parties to attack the Blackfeet towns, but contenting
themselves with defending their own territories and house. About
one third of their warriors are armed with fusees, the rest with
bows and arrows.

As soon as the spring opens they move down the right bank of
Snake River and encamp at the heads of the Boisee and Payette.
Here their horses wax fat on good pasturage, while the tribe
revels in plenty upon the flesh of deer, elk, bear, and beaver.
They then descend a little further, and are met by the Lower Nez
Perces, with whom they trade for horses; giving in exchange
beaver, buffalo, and buffalo robes. Hence they strike upon the
tributary streams on the left bank of Snake River, and encamp at
the rise of the Portneuf and Blackfoot streams, in the buffalo
range. Their horses, although of the Nez Perce breed, are
inferior to the parent stock from being ridden at too early an
age, being often bought when but two years old and immediately
put to hard work. They have fewer horses, also, than most of
these migratory tribes.

At the time that Captain Bonneville came into the neighborhood of
these Indians, they were all in mourning for their chief,
surnamed The Horse. This chief was said to possess a charmed
life, or rather, to be invulnerable to lead; no bullet having
ever hit him, though he had been in repeated battles, and often
shot at by the surest marksmen. He had shown great magnanimity in
his intercourse with the white men. One of the great men of his
family had been slain in an attack upon a band of trappers
passing through the territories of his tribe. Vengeance had been
sworn by the Bannecks; but The Horse interfered, declaring
himself the friend of white men and, having great influence and
authority among his people, he compelled them to forcgo all
vindictive plans and to conduct themselves amicably whenever they
came in contact with the traders.

This chief had bravely fallen in resisting an attack made by the
Blackfeet upon his tribe, while encamped at the head of Godin
River. His fall in nowise lessened the faith of his people in his
charmed life; for they declared that it was not a bullet which
laid him low, but a bit of horn which had been shot into him by
some Blackfoot marksman aware, no doubt, of the inefficacy of
lead. Since his death there was no one with sufficient influence
over the tribe to restrain the wild and predatory propensities of
the young men.  The consequence was they had become troublesome
and dangerous neighbors, openly friendly for the sake of traffic,
but disposed to commit secret depredations and to molest any
small party that might fall within their reach.



                               16
                                
Misadventures of Matthieu and his party   Return to the caches at
Salmon River   Battle between Nez Perces and Black feet   Heroism
       of a Nez Perce woman   Enrolled among the braves.


ON the 3d of February, Matthieu, with the residue of his band,
arrived in camp. He had a disastrous story to relate. After
parting with Captain Bonneville in Green River Valley he had
proceeded to the westward, keeping to the north of the Eutaw
Mountains, a spur of the great Rocky chain. Here he experienced
the most rugged travelling for his horses, and soon discovered
that there was but little chance of meeting the Shoshonie bands.
He now proceeded along Bear River, a stream much frequented by
trappers, intending to shape his course to Salmon River to rejoin
Captain Bonneville.

He was misled, however, either through the ignorance or treachery
of an Indian guide, and conducted into a wild valley where he lay
encamped during the autumn and the early part of the winter,
nearly buried in snow and almost starved. Early in the season he
detached five men, with nine horses, to proceed to the
neighborhood of the Sheep Rock, on Bear River, where game was
plenty, and there to procure a supply for the camp.

They had not proceeded far on their expedition when their trail
was discovered by a party of nine or ten Indians, who immediately
commenced a lurking pursuit, dogging them secretly for five or
six days. So long as their encampments were well chosen and a
proper watch maintained the wary savages kept aloof; at length,
observing that they were badly encamped, in a situation where
they might be approached with secrecy, the enemy crept stealthily
along under cover of the river bank, preparing to burst suddenly
upon their prey.

They had not advanced within striking distance, however, before
they were discovered by one of the trappers. He immediately but
silently gave the alarm to his companions. They all sprang upon
their horses and prepared to retreat to a safe position. One of
the party, however, named Jennings, doubted the correctness of
the alarm, and before he mounted his horse wanted to ascertain
the fact.  His companions urged him to mount, but in vain; he was
incredulous and obstinate. A volley of firearms by the savages
dispelled his doubts, but so overpowered his nerves that he was
unable to get into his saddle. His comrades, seeing his peril and
confusion, generously leaped from their horses to protect him. A
shot from a rifle brought him to the earth; in his agony he
called upon the others not to desert him. Two of them, Le Roy and
Ross, after fighting desperately, were captured by the savages;
the remaining two vaulted into their saddles and saved themselves
by headlong flight, being pursued for nearly thirty miles. They
got safe back to Matthieu's camp, where their story inspired such
dread of lurking Indians that the hunters could not be prevailed
upon to undertake another foray in quest of provisions. They
remained, therefore, almost starving in their camp; now and then
killing an old or disabled horse for food, while the elk and the
mountain sheep roamed unmolested among the surrounding mountains.

The disastrous surprisal of this hunting party is cited by
Captain Bonneville to show the importance of vigilant watching
and judicious encampments in the Indian country. Most of this
kind of disasters to traders and trappers arise from some
careless inattention to the state of their arms and ammunition,
the placing of their horses at night, the position of their
camping ground, and the posting of their night watches. The
Indian is a vigilant and crafty foe, by no means given to
hair-brained assaults; he seldom attacks when he finds his foe
well prepared and on the alert. Caution is at least as
efficacious a protection against him as courage.

The Indians who made this attack were at first supposed to be
Blackfeet; until Captain Bonneville found subsequently, in the
camp of the Bannecks, a horse, saddle, and bridle, which he
recognized as having belonged to one of the hunters. The
Bannecks, however, stoutly denied having taken these spoils in
fight, and persisted in affirming that the outrage had been
perpetrated by a Blackfoot band.

Captain Bonneville remained on Snake River nearly three weeks
after the arrival of Matthieu and his party. At length his horses
having recovered strength sufficient for a journey, he prepared
to return to the Nez Perces, or rather to visit his caches on
Salmon River; that he might take thence goods and equipments for
the opening season. Accordingly, leaving sixteen men at Snake
River, he set out on the 19th of February with sixteen others on
his journey to the caches.

Fording the river, he proceeded to the borders of the deep snow,
when he encamped under the lee of immense piles of burned rock. 
On the 21st he was again floundering through the snow, on the
great Snake River plain, where it lay to the depth of thirty
inches. It was sufficiently incrusted to bear a pedestrian, but
the poor horses broke through the crust, and plunged and strained
at every step.  So lacerated were they by the ice that it was
necessary to change the front every hundred yards, and put a
different one in advance to break the way. The open prairies were
swept by a piercing and biting wind froIn the northwest. At
night, they had to task their ingenuity to provide shelter and
keep from freezing. In the first place, they dug deep holes in
the snow, piling it up in ramparts to windward as a protection
against the blast. Beneath these they spread buffalo skins, upon
which they stretched themselves in full dress, with caps, cloaks,
and moccasins, and covered themselves with numerous blankets;
notwithstanding all which they were often severely pinched with
the cold.

On the 28th of February they arrived on the banks of Godin River.
This stream emerges from the mountains opposite an eastern branch
of the Malade River, running southeast, forms a deep and swift
current about twenty yards wide, passing rapidly through a defile
to which it gives its name, and then enters the great plain
where, after meandering about forty miles, it is finally lost in
the region of the Burned Rocks.

On the banks of this river Captain Bonneville was so fortunate as
to come upon a buffalo trail. Following it up, he entered the
defile, where he remained encamped for two days to allow the
hunters time to kill and dry a supply of buffalo beef. In this
sheltered defile the weather was moderate and grass was already
sprouting more than an inch in height.  There was abundance, too,
of the salt weed which grows most plentiful in clayey and
gravelly barrens. It resembles pennyroyal, and derives its name
from a partial saltness. It is a nourishing food for the horses
in the winter, but they reject it the moment the young grass
affords sufficient pasturage.

On the 6th of March, having cured sufficient meat, the party
resumed their march, and moved on with comparative ease,
excepting where they had to make their way through snow-drifts
which had been piled up by the wind.

On the 11th, a small cloud of smoke was observed rising in a deep
part of the defile. An encampment was instantly formed and scouts
were sent out to reconnoitre. They returned with intelligence
that it was a hunting party of Flatheads, returning from the
buffalo range laden with meat. Captain Bonneville joined them the
next day, and persuaded them to proceed with his party a few
miles below to the caches, whither he proposed also to invite the
Nez Perces, whom he hoped to find somewhere in this neighborhood.
In fact, on the 13th, he was rejoined by that friendly tribe who,
since he separated from them on Salmon River, had likewise been
out to hunt the buffalo, but had continued to be haunted and
harassed by their old enemies the Blackfeet, who, as usual, had
contrived to carry off many of their horses.

In the course of this hunting expedition, a small band of ten
lodges separated from the main body in search of better pasturage
for their horses. About the 1st of March, the scattered parties
of Blackfoot banditti united to the number of three hundred
fighting men, and determined upon some signal blow. Proceeding to
the former camping ground of the Nez Perces, they found the
lodges deserted; upon which they hid themselves among the willows
and thickets, watching for some straggler who might guide them to
the present "whereabout" of their intended victims. As fortune
would have it Kosato, the Blackfoot renegade, was the first to
pass along, accompanied by his blood-bought bride. He was on his
way from the main body of hunters to the little band of ten
lodges. The Blackfeet knew and marked him as he passed; he was
within bowshot of their ambuscade; yet, much as they thirsted for
his blood, they forbore to launch a shaft; sparing him for the
moment that he might lead them to their prey. Secretly following
his trail, they discovered the lodges of the unfortunate Nez
Perces, and assailed them with shouts and yellings. The Nez
Perces numbered only twenty men, and but nine were armed with
fusees. They showed themselves, however, as brave and skilful in
war as they had been mild and long-suffering in peace. Their
first care was to dig holes inside of their lodges; thus
ensconced they fought desperately, laying several of the enemy
dead upon the ground; while they, though Some of them were
wounded, lost not a single warrior.

During the heat of the battle, a woman of the Nez Perces, seeing
her warrior badly wounded and unable to fight, seized his bow and
arrows, and bravely and successfully defended his person,
contributing to the safety of the whole party.

In another part of the field of action, a Nez Perce had crouched
behind the trunk of a fallen tree, and kept up a galling fire
from his covert. A Blackfoot seeing this, procured a round log,
and placing it before him as he lay prostrate, rolled it forward
toward the trunk of the tree behind which his enemy lay crouched. 
It was a moment of breathless interest; whoever first showed
himself would be in danger of a shot. The Nez Perce put an end to
the suspense. The moment the logs touched he Sprang upon his feet
and discharged the contents of his fusee into the back of his
antagonist. By this time the Blackfeet had got possession of the
horses, several of their warriors lay dead on the field, and the
Nez Perces, ensconced in their lodges, seemed resolved to defend
themselves to the last gasp. It so happened that the chief of the
Blackfeet party was a renegade from the Nez Perces; unlike
Kosato, however, he had no vindictive rage against his native
tribe, but was rather disposed, now he had got the booty, to
spare all unnecessary effusion of blood.  He held a long parley,
therefore, with the besieged, and finally drew off his warriors,
taking with him seventy horses. It appeared, afterward, that the
bullets of the Blackfeet had been entirely expended in the course
of the battle, so that they were obliged to make use of stones as
substitute.

At the outset of the fight Kosato, the renegade, fought with fury
rather than valor, animating the others by word as well as deed.
A wound in the head from a rifle ball laid him senseless on the
earth. There his body remained when the battle was over, and the
victors were leading off the horses. His wife hung over him with
frantic lamentations.  The conquerors paused and urged her to
leave the lifeless renegade, and return with them to her kindred.
She refused to listen to their solicitations, and they passed on.
As she sat watching the features of Kosato, and giving way to
passionate grief, she thought she perceived him to breathe. She
was not mistaken. The ball, which had been nearly spent before it
struck him, had stunned instead of killing him. By the ministry
of his faithful wife he gradually recovered, reviving to a
redoubled love for her, and hatred of his tribe.

As to the female who had so bravely defended her husband, she was
elevated by the tribe to a rank far above her sex, and beside
other honorable distinctions, was thenceforward permitted to take
a part in the war dances of the braves!



                               17
                                
  Opening of the caches   Detachments of Cerre and Hodgkiss  
  Salmon River Mountains   Superstition of an Indian trapper  
   Godin's River   Preparations for trapping   An alarm   An
 interruption   A rival band   Phenomena of Snake River Plain  
Vast clefts and chasms   Ingulfed streams   Sublime scenery   A
                      grand buffalo hunt.

CAPTAIN BONNEVILLE found his caches perfectly secure, and having
secretly opened them he selected such articles as were necessary
to equip the free trappers and to supply the inconsiderable trade
with the Indians, after which he closed them again. The free
trappers, being newly rigged out and supplied, were in high
spirits, and swaggered gayly about the camp. To compensate all
hands for past sufferings, and to give a cheerful spur to further
operations, Captain Bonneville now gave the men what, in frontier
phrase, is termed "a regular blow-out."  It was a day of uncouth
gambols and frolics and rude feasting. The Indians joined in the
sports and games, and all was mirth and good-fellowship.

It was now the middle of March, and Captain Bonneville made
preparations to open the spring campaign. He had pitched upon
Malade River for his main trapping ground for the season.  This
is a stream which rises among the great bed of mountains north of
the Lava Plain, and after a winding course falls into Snake
River. Previous to his departure the captain dispatched Mr.
Cerre, with a few men, to visit the Indian villages and purchase
horses; he furnished his clerk, Mr. Hodgkiss, also, with a small
stock of goods, to keep up a trade with the Indians during the
spring, for such peltries as they might collect, appointing the
caches on Salmon River as the point of rendezvous, where they
were to rejoin him on the 15th of June following.

This done he set out for Malade River, with a band of
twenty-eight men composed of hired and free trappers and Indian
hunters, together with eight squaws. Their route lay up along the
right fork of Salmon River, as it passes through the deep defile
of the mountains. They travelled very slowly, not above five
miles a day, for many of the horses were so weak that they
faltered and staggered as they walked.  Pasturage, however, was
now growing plentiful.  There was abundance of fresh grass, which
in some places had attained such height as to wave in the wind.
The native flocks of the wilderness, the mountain sheep, as they
are called by the trappers, were continually to be seen upon the
hills between which they passed, and a good supply of mutton was
provided by the hunters, as they were advancing toward a region
of scarcity.

In the course of his journey Captain Bonneville had occasion to
remark an instance of the many notions, and almost superstitions,
which prevail among the Indians, and among some of the white men,
with respect to the sagacity of the beaver. The Indian hunters of
his party were in the habit of exploring all the streams along
which they passed, in search of "beaver lodges," and occasionally
set their traps with some success. One of them, however, though
an experienced and skilful trapper, was invariably unsuccessful.
Astonished and mortified at such unusual bad luck, he at length
conceived the idea that there was some odor about his person of
which the beaver got scent and retreated at his approach. He
immediately set about a thorough purification. Making a rude
sweating-house on the banks of the river, he would shut himself
up until in a reeking perspiration, and then suddenly emerging,
would plunge into the river. A number of these sweatings and
plungings having, as he supposed, rendered his person perfectly
"inodorous," he resumed his trapping with renovated hope.

About the beginning of April they encamped upon Godin's River,
where they found the swamp full of "musk-rat houses." Here,
therefore, Captain Bonneville determined to remain a few days and
make his first regular attempt at trapping. That his maiden
campaign might open with spirit, he promised the Indians and free
trappers an extra price for every musk-rat they should take. All
now set to work for the next day's sport. The utmost animation
and gayety prevailed throughout the camp. Everything looked
auspicious for their spring campaign. The abundance of musk-rats
in the swamp was but an earnest of the nobler game they were to
find when they should reach the Malade River, and have a capital
beaver country all to themselves, where they might trap at their
leisure without molestation.

In the midst of their gayety a hunter came galloping into the
camp, shouting, or rather yelling, "A trail! a trail! -- lodge
poles! lodge poles!"

These were words full of meaning to a trapper's ear. They
intimated that there was some band in the neighborhood, and
probably a hunting party, as they had lodge poles for an
encampment. The hunter came up and told his story. He had
discovered a fresh trail, in which the traces made by the
dragging of lodge poles were distinctly visible. The buffalo,
too, had just been driven out of the neighborhood, which showed
that the hunters had already been on the range.

The gayety of the camp was at an end; all preparations for
musk-rat trapping were suspended, and all hands sallied forth to
examine the trail. Their worst fears were soon confirmed.
Infallible signs showed the unknown party in the advance to be
white men; doubtless, some rival band of trappers! Here was
competition when least expected; and that too by a party already
in the advance, who were driving the game before them. Captain
Bonneville had now a taste of the sudden transitions to which a
trapper's life is subject. The buoyant confidence in an
uninterrupted hunt was at an end; every countenance lowered with
gloom and disappointment.

Captain Bonneville immediately dispatched two spies to over-take
the rival party, and endeavor to learn their plans; in the
meantime, he turned his back upon the swamp and its musk-rat
houses and followed on at "long camps, which in trapper's
language is equivalent to long stages. On the 6th of April he met
his spies returning. They had kept on the trail like hounds until
they overtook the party at the south end of Godin's defile. Here
they found them comfortably encamped: twenty-two prime trappers,
all well appointed, with excellent horses in capital condition
led by Milton Sublette, and an able coadjutor named Jarvie, and
in full march for the Malade hunting ground. This was stunning
news. The Malade River was the only trapping ground within reach;
but to have to compete there with veteran trappers, perfectly at
home among the mountains, and admirably mounted, while they were
so poorly provided with horses and trappers, and had but one man
in their party acquainted with the country-it was out of the
question.

The only hope that now remained was that the snow, which still
lay deep among the mountains of Godin's River and blocked up the
usual pass to the Malade country, might detain the other party
until Captain Bonneville's horses should get once more into good
condition in their present ample pasturage.

The rival parties now encamped together, not out of
companionship, but to keep an eye upon each other. Day after day
passed by without any possibility of getting to the Malade
country. Sublette and Jarvie endeavored to force their way across
the mountain; but the snows lay so deep as to oblige them to turn
back. In the meantime the captain's horses were daily gaining
strength, and their hoofs improving, which had been worn and
battered by mountain service. The captain, also was increasing
his stock of provisions; so that the delay was all in his favor.

To any one who merely contemplates a map of the country this
difficulty of getting from Godin to Malade River will appear
inexplicable, as the intervening mountains terminate in the great
Snake River plain, so that, apparently, it would be perfectly
easy to proceed round their bases.

Here, however, occur some of the striking phenomena of this wild
and sublime region. The great lower plain which extends to the
feet of these mountains is broken up near their bases into
crests, and ridges resembling the surges of the ocean breaking on
a rocky shore.

In a line with the mountains the plain is gashed with numerous
and dangerous chasms, from four to ten feet wide, and of great
depth. Captain Bonneville attempted to sound some of these
openings, but without any satisfactory result. A stone dropped
into one of them reverberated against the sides for apparently a
very great depth, and, by its sound, indicated the same kind of
substance with the surface, as long as the strokes could be
heard. The horse, instinctively sagacious in avoiding danger,
shrinks back in alarm from the least of these chasms, pricking up
his ears, snorting and pawing, until permitted to turn away.

We have been told by a person well acquainted with the country
that it is sometimes necessary to travel fifty and sixty miles to
get round one of these tremendous ravines. Considerable streams,
like that of Godin's River, that run with a bold, free current,
lose themselves in this plain; some of them end in swamps, others
suddenly disappear, finding, no doubt, subterranean outlets.

Opposite to these chasms Snake River makes two desperate leaps
over precipices, at a short distance from each other; one twenty,
the other forty feet in height.

The volcanic plain in question forms an area of about sixty miles
in diameter, where nothing meets the eye but a desolate and awful
waste; where no grass grows nor water runs, and where nothing is
to be seen but lava. Ranges of mountains skirt this plain, and,
in Captain Bonneville's opinion, were formerly connected, until
rent asunder by some convulsion of nature. Far to the east the
Three Tetons lift their heads sublimely, and dominate this wide
sea of lava -- one of the most striking features of a wilderness
where everything seems on a scale of stern and simple grandeur.

We look forward with impatience for some able geologist to
explore this sublime but almost unknown region.

It was not until the 25th of April that the two parties of
trappers broke up their encampments, and undertook to cross over
the southwest end of the mountain by a pass explored by their
scouts. From various points of the mountain they commanded
boundless prospects of the lava plain, stretching away in cold
and gloomy barrenness as far as the eye could reach. On the
evening of the 26th they reached the plain west of the mountain,
watered by the Malade, the Boisee, and other streams, which
comprised the contemplated trapping-ground.

The country about the Boisee (or Woody) River is extolled by
Captain Bonneville as the most enchanting he had seen in the Far
West, presenting the mingled grandeur and beauty of mountain and
plain, of bright running streams and vast grassy meadows waving
to the breeze.

We shall not follow the captain throughout his trapping campaign,
which lasted until the beginning of June, nor detail all the
manoeuvres of the rival trapping parties and their various
schemes to outwit and out-trap each other. Suffice it to say
that, after having visited and camped about various streams with
varying success, Captain Bonneville set forward early in June for
the appointed rendezvous at the caches. On the way, he treated
his party to a grand buffalo hunt. The scouts had re ported
numerous herds in a plain beyond an intervening height.  There
was an immediate halt; the fleetest horses were forthwith mounted 
and the party advanced to the summit of the hill. Hence they
beheld the great plain below; absolutely swarming with buffalo. 
Captain Bonneville now appointed the place where he would encamp;
and toward which the hunters were to drive the game. He cautioned
the latter to advance slowly, reserving the strength and speed of
the horses until within a moderate distance of the herds.
Twenty-two horsemen descended cautiously into the plain,
conformably to these directions. ""It was a beautiful sight,"
says the captain, ""to see the runners, as they are called,
advancing in column, at a slow trot, until within two hundred and
fifty yards of the outskirts of the herd, then dashing on at full
speed until lost in the immense multitude of buffaloes scouring
the plain in every direction." All was now tumult and wild
confusion. In the meantime Captain Bonneville and the residue of
the party moved on to the appointed camping ground; thither the
most expert runners succeeded in driving numbers of buffalo,
which were killed hard by the camp, and the flesh transported
thither without difficulty. In a little while the whole camp
looked like one great slaughter-house; the carcasses were
skilfully cut up, great fires were made, scaffolds erected for
drying and jerking beef, and an ample provision was made for
future subsistence. On the 15th of June, the precise day
appointed for the rendezvous, Captain Bonneville and his party
arrived safely at the caches.

Here he was joined by the other detachments of his main party,
all in good health and spirits. The caches were again opened,
supplies of various kinds taken out, and a liberal allowance of
aqua vitae distributed throughout the camp, to celebrate with
proper conviviality this merry meeting. 



                              18.
                                
Meeting with Hodgkiss   Misfortunes of the Nez Perces   Schemes
  of Kosato, the renegado   His foray into the Horse Prairie-
Invasion of Black feet   Blue John and his forlorn hope   Their
generous enterprise-Their fate-Consternation and despair of the
village- Solemn obsequies -Attempt at Indian trade -Hudson's Bay
 Company's monopoly-Arrangements for autumn- Breaking up of an
                          encampment.

HAVING now a pretty strong party, well armed and equipped,
Captain Bonneville no longer felt the necessity of fortifying
himself in the secret places and fastnesses of the mountains; but
sallied forth boldly into the Snake River plain, in search of his
clerk, Hodgkiss, who had remained with the Nez Perces. He found
him on the 24th of June, and learned from him another chapter of
misfortunes which had recently befallen that ill-fated race.

After the departure of Captain Bonneville in March, Kosato, the
renegade Blackfoot, had recovered from the wound received in
battle; and with his strength revived all his deadly hostility to
his native tribe. He now resumed his efforts to stir up the Nez
Perces to reprisals upon their old enemies; reminding them
incessantly of all the outrages and robberies they had recently
experienced, and assuring them that such would continue to be
their lot until they proved themselves men by some signal
retaliation.

The impassioned eloquence of the desperado at length produced an
effect; and a band of braves enlisted under his guidance, to
penetrate into the Blackfoot country, harass their Villages,
carry off their horses, and commit all kinds of depredations.

Kosato pushed forward on his foray as far as the Horse Prairie,
where he came upon a strong party of Blackfeet. Without waiting
to estimate their force, he attacked them with characteristic
fury, and was bravely seconded by his followers. The contest, for
a time, was hot and bloody; at length, as is customary with these
two tribes, they paused, and held a long parley, or rather a war
of words.

"What need," said the Blackfoot chief, tauntingly, "have the Nez
Perces to leave their homes, and sally forth on war parties, when
they have danger enough at their own doors? If you want fighting,
return to your villages; you will have plenty of it there. The
Blackfeet warriors have hitherto made war upon you as children.
They are now coming as men. A great force is at hand; they are on
their way to your towns, and are determined to rub out the very
name of the Nez Perces from the mountains. Return, I say, to your
towns, and fight there, if you wish to live any longer as a
people."

Kosato took him at his word; for he knew the character of his
native tribe.  Hastening back with his band to the Nez Perces
village, he told all that he had seen and heard, and urged the
most prompt and strenuous measures for defence. The Nez Perces,
however, heard him with their accustomed phlegm; the threat of
the Blackfeet had been often made, and as often had proved a mere
bravado; such they pronounced it to be at present, and, of
course, took no precautions.

They were soon convinced that it was no empty menace. In a few
days a band of three hundred Blackfeet warriors appeared upon the
hills.  All now was consternation in the village. The force of
the Nez Perces was too small to cope with the enemy in open
fight; many of the young men having gone to their relatives on
the Columbia to procure horses. The sages met in hurried council.
What was to be done to ward off a blow which threatened
annihilation? In this moment of imminent peril, a Pierced-nose
chief, named Blue John by the whites, offered to approach
secretly with a small, but chosen band, through a defile which
led to the encampment of the enemy, and, by a sudden onset, to
drive off the horses. Should this blow be successful, the spirit
and strength of the invaders would be broken, and the Nez Perces,
having horses, would be more than a match for them. Should it
fail, the village would not be worse off than at present, when
destruction appeared inevitable.

Twenty-nine of the choicest warriors instantly volunteered to
follow Blue John in this hazardous enterprise.  They prepared for
it with the solemnity and devotion peculiar to the tribe. Blue
John consulted his medicine, or talismanic charm, such as every
chief keeps in his lodge as a supernatural protection. The oracle
assured him that his enterprise would be completely successful,
provided no rain should fall before he had passed through the
defile; but should it rain, his band would be utterly cut off.

The day was clear and bright; and Blue John anticipated that the
skies would be propitious. He departed in high spirits with his
forlorn hope; and never did band of braves make a more gallant
display-horsemen and horses being decorated and equipped in the
fiercest and most glaring style - glittering with arms and
ornaments, and fluttering with feathers.

The weather continued serene until they reached the defile; but
just as they were entering it a black cloud rose over the
mountain crest, and there was a sudden shower. The warriors
turned to their leader, as if to read his opinion of this unlucky
omen; but the countenance of Blue John remained unchanged, and
they continued to press forward. It was their hope to make their
way undiscovered to the very vicinity of the Blackfoot camp; but
they had not proceeded far in the defile, when they met a
scouting party of the enemy. They attacked and drove them among
the hills, and were pursuing them with great eagerness when they
heard shouts and yells behind them, and beheld the main body of
the Blackfeet advancing.

The second chief wavered a little at the sight and proposed an
instant retreat.  "We came to fight!" replied Blue John, sternly.
Then giving his war-whoop, he sprang forward to the conflict. 
His braves followed him.  They made a headlong charge upon the
enemy; not with the hope of victory, but the determination to
sell their lives dearly. A frightful carnage, rather than a
regular battle, succeeded. The forlorn band laid heaps of their
enemies dead at their feet, but were overwhelmed with numbers and
pressed into a gorge of the mountain; where they continued to
fight until they were cut to pieces. One only, of the thirty,
survived. He sprang on the horse of a Blackfoot warrior whom he
had slain, and escaping at full speed, brought home the baleful
tidings to his village.

Who can paint the horror and desolation of the inhabitants? The
flower of their warriors laid low, and a ferocious enemy at their
doors. The air was rent by the shrieks and lamentations of the
women, who, casting off their ornaments and tearing their hair,
wandered about, frantically bewailing the dead and predicting
destruction to the living. The remaining warriors armed
themselves for obstinate defence; but showed by their gloomy
looks and sullen silence that they considered defence hopeless.
To their surprise the Blackfeet refrained from pursuing their
advantage; perhaps satisfied with the blood already shed, or
disheartened by the loss they had themselves sustained. At any
rate, they disappeared from the hills, and it was soon
ascertained that they had returned to the Horse Prairie.

The unfortunate Nez Perces now began once more to breathe. A few
of their warriors, taking pack-horses, repaired to the defile to
bring away the bodies of their slaughtered brethren. They found
them mere headless trunks; and the wounds with which they were
covered showed how bravely they had fought. Their hearts, too,
had been torn out and carried off; a proof of their signal valor;
for in devouring the heart of a foe renowned for bravery, or who
has distinguished himself in battle, the Indian victor thinks he
appropriates to himself the courage of the deceased.

Gathering the mangled bodies of the slain, and strapping them
across their pack-horses, the warriors returned, in dismal
procession, to the village. The tribe came forth to meet them;
the women with piercing cries and wailings; the men with downcast
countenances, in which gloom and sorrow seemed fixed as if in
marble. The mutilated and almost undistinguishable bodies were
placed in rows upon the ground, in the midst of the assemblage;
and the scene of heart-rending anguish and lamentation that
ensued would have confounded those who insist on Indian stoicism.

Such was the disastrous event that had overwhelmed the Nez Perces
tribe during the absence of Captain Bonneville; and he was
informed that Kosato, the renegade, who, being stationed in the
village, had been prevented from going on the forlorn hope, was
again striving to rouse the vindictive feelings of his adopted
brethren, and to prompt them to revenge the slaughter of their
devoted braves.

During his sojourn on the Snake River plain, Captain Bonneville
made one of his first essays at the strategy of the fur trade. 
There was at this time an assemblage of Nez Perces, Flatheads,
and Cottonois Indians encamped together upon the plain; well
provided with beaver, which they had collected during the spring. 
These they were waiting to traffic with a resident trader of the
Hudson's Bay Company, who was stationed among them, and with whom
they were accustomed to deal.  As it happened, the trader was
almost entirely destitute of Indian goods; his spring supply not
having yet reached him.  Captain Bonneville had secret
intelligence that the supplies were on their way, and would soon
arrive; he hoped, how-ever, by a prompt move, to anticipate their
arrival, and secure the market to himself. Throwing himself,
therefore, among the Indians, he opened his packs of merchandise
and displayed the most tempting wares: bright cloths, and scarlet
blankets, and glittering ornaments, and everything gay and
glorious in the eyes of warrior or squaw; all, however, was in
vain. The Hudson's Bay trader was a perfect master of his
business, thoroughly acquainted with the Indians he had to deal
with, and held such control over them that none dared to act
openly in opposition to his wishes; nay, more -- he came nigh
turning the tables upon the captain, and shaking the allegiance
of some of his free trappers, by distributing liquors among them.
The latter, therefore, was glad to give up a competition, where
the war was likely to be carried into his own camp.

In fact, the traders of the Hudson's Bay Company have advantages
over all competitors in the trade beyond the Rocky Mountains. 
That huge monopoly centers within itself not merely its own
hereditary and long-established power and influence; but also
those of its ancient rival, but now integral part, the famous
Northwest Company. It has thus its races of traders, trappers,
hunters, and voyageurs, born and brought up in its service, and
inheriting from preceding generations a knowledge and aptitude in
everything connected with Indian life, and Indian traffic. In the
process of years, this company has been enabled to spread its
ramifications in every direction; its system of intercourse is
founded upon a long and intimate knowledge of the character and
necessities of the various tribes; and of all the fastnesses,
defiles, and favorable hunting grounds of the country. Their
capital, also, and the manner in which their supplies are
distributed at various posts, or forwarded by regular caravans,
keep their traders well supplied, and enable them to furnish
their goods to the Indians at a cheap rate. Their men, too, being
chiefly drawn from the Canadas, where they enjoy great influence
and control, are engaged at the most trifling wages, and
supported at little cost; the provisions which they take with
them being little more than Indian corn and grease. They are
brought also into the most perfect discipline and subordination,
especially when their leaders have once got them to their scene
of action in the heart of the wilderness.

These circumstances combine to give the leaders of the Hudson's
Bay Company a decided advantage over all the American companies
that come within their range, so that any close competition with
them is almost hopeless.

Shortly after Captain Bonneville's ineffectual attempt to
participate in the trade of the associated camp, the supplies of
the Hudson's Bay Company arrived; and the resident trader was
enabled to monopolize the market.

It was now the beginning of July; in the latter part of which
month Captain Bonneville had appointed a rendezvous at Horse
Creek in Green River Valley, with some of the parties which he
had detached in the preceding year.  He now turned his thoughts
in that direction, and prepared for the journey.

The Cottonois were anxious for him to proceed at once to their
country; which, they assured him, abounded in beaver. The lands
of this tribe lie immediately north of those of the Flatheads and
are open to the inroads of the Blackfeet. It is true, the latter
professed to be their allies; but they had been guilty of so many
acts of perfidy, that the Cottonois had, latterly, renounced
their hollow friendship and attached themselves to the Flatheads
and Nez Perces. These they had accompanied in their migrations
rather than remain alone at home, exposed to the outrages of the
Blackfeet. They were now apprehensive that these marauders would
range their country during their absence and destroy the beaver;
this was their reason for urging Captain Bonneville to make it
his autumnal hunting ground. The latter, however, was not to be
tempted; his engagements required his presence at the rendezvous
in Green River Valley; and he had already formed his ulterior
plans.

An unexpected difficulty now arose. The free trappers suddenly
made a stand, and declined to accompany him. It was a long and
weary journey; the route lay through Pierre's Hole, and other
mountain passes infested by the Blackfeet, and recently the
scenes of sanguinary conflicts. They were not disposed to
undertake such unnecessary toils and dangers, when they had good
and secure trapping grounds nearer at hand, on the head-waters of
Salmon River.

As these were free and independent fellows, whose will and whim
were apt to be law -- who had the whole wilderness before them,
"where to choose," and the trader of a rival company at hand,
ready to pay for their services -- it was necessary to bend to
their wishes. Captain Bonneville fitted them out, therefore, for
the hunting ground in question; appointing Mr. Hodgkiss to act as
their partisan, or leader, and fixing a rendezvous where he
should meet them in the course of the ensuing winter. The brigade
consisted of twenty-one free trappers and four or five hired men
as camp-keepers. This was not the exact arrangement of a trapping
party; which when accurately organized is composed of two thirds
trappers whose duty leads them continually abroad in pursuit of
game; and one third camp-keepers who cook, pack, and unpack; set
up the tents, take care of the horses and do all other duties
usually assigned by the Indians to their women. This part of the
service is apt to be fulfilled by French creoles from Canada and
the valley of the Mississippi.

In the meantime the associated Indians having completed their
trade and received their supplies, were all ready to disperse in
various directions. As there was a formidable band of Blackfeet
just over a mountain to the northeast, by which Hodgkiss and his
free trappers would have to pass; and as it was known that those
sharp-sighted marauders had their scouts out watching every
movement of the encampments, so as to cut off stragglers or weak
detachments, Captain Bonneville prevailed upon the Nez Perces to
accompany Hodgkiss and his party until they should be beyond the
range of the enemy.

The Cottonois and the Pends Oreilles determined to move together
at the same time, and to pass close under the mountain infested
by the Blackfeet; while Captain Bonneville, with his party, was
to strike in an opposite direction to the southeast, bending his
course for Pierre's Hole, on his way to Green River.

Accordingly, on the 6th of July, all the camps were raised at the
same moment; each party taking its separate route. The scene was
wild and picturesque; the long line of traders, trappers, and
Indians, with their rugged and fantastic dresses and
accoutrements; their varied weapons, their innumerable horses,
some under the saddle, some burdened with packages, others
following in droves; all stretching in lengthening cavalcades
across the vast landscape, making for different points of the
plains and mountains.



                              19.
                                
Precautions in dangerous defiles   Trappers' mode of defence on a
prairie   A mysterious visitor   Arrival in Green River Valley  
Adventures of the detachments   The forlorn partisan   His tale
                         of disasters.

AS the route of Captain Bonneville lay through what was
considered the most perilous part of this region of dangers, he
took all his measures with military skill, and observed the
strictest circumspection. When on the march, a small scouting
party was thrown in the advance to reconnoitre the country
through which they were to pass. The encampments were selected
with great care, and a watch was kept up night and day. The
horses were brought in and picketed at night, and at daybreak a
party was sent out to scour the neighborhood for half a mile
round, beating up every grove and thicket that could give shelter
to a lurking foe. When all was reported safe, the horses were
cast loose and turned out to graze. Were such precautions
generally observed by traders and hunters, we should not so often
hear of parties being surprised by the Indians.

Having stated the military arrangements of the captain, we may
here mention a mode of defence on the open prairie, which we have
heard from a veteran in the Indian trade.  When a party of
trappers is on a journey with a convoy of goods or peltries,
every man has three pack-horses under his care; each horse laden
with three packs.  Every man is provided with a picket with an
iron head, a mallet, and hobbles, or leathern fetters for the
horses. The trappers proceed across the prairie in a long line;
or sometimes three parallel lines, sufficiently distant from each
other to prevent the packs from interfering.  At an alarm, when
there is no covert at hand, the line wheels so as to bring the
front to the rear and form a circle. All then dismount, drive
their pickets into the ground in the centre, fasten the horses to
them, and hobble their forelegs, so that, in case of alarm, they
cannot break away. Then they unload them, and dispose of their
packs as breastworks on the periphery of the circle; each man
having nine packs behind which to shelter himself. In this
promptly-formed fortress, they await the assault of the enemy,
and are enabled to set large bands of Indians at defiance.

The first night of his march, Captain Bonneville encamped upon
Henry's Fork; an upper branch of Snake River, called after the
first American trader that erected a fort beyond the mountains.
About an hour after all hands had come to a halt the clatter of
hoofs was heard, and a solitary female, of the Nez Perce tribe,
came galloping up. She was mounted on a mustang or half wild
horse, which she managed by a long rope hitched round the under
jaw by way of bridle.  Dismounting, she walked silently into the
midst of the camp, and there seated herself on the ground, still
holding her horse by the long halter.

The sudden and lonely apparition of this woman, and her calm yet
resolute demeanor, awakened universal curiosity. The hunters and
trappers gathered round, and gazed on her as something
mysterious. She remained silent, but maintained her air of
calmness and self-possession. Captain Bonneville approached and
interrogated her as to the object of her mysterious visit. Her
answer was brief but earnest -- "I love the whites -- I will go
with them." She was forthwith invited to a lodge, of which she
readily took possession, and from that time forward was
considered one of the camp.

In consequence, very probably, of the military precautions of
Captain Bonneville, he conducted his party in safety through this
hazardous region. No accident of a disastrous kind occurred,
excepting the loss of a horse, which, in passing along the giddy
edge of a precipice, called the Cornice, a dangerous pass between
Jackson's and Pierre's Hole, fell over the brink, and was dashed
to pieces.

On the 13th of July (1833), Captain Bonneville arrived at Green
River. As he entered the valley, he beheld it strewed in every
direction with the carcasses of buffaloes. It was evident that
Indians had recently been there, and in great numbers. Alarmed at
this sight, he came to a halt, and as soon as it was dark, sent
out spies to his place of rendezvous on Horse Creek, where he had
expected to meet with his detached parties of trappers on the
following day. Early in the morning the spies made their
appearance in the camp, and with them came three trappers of one
of his bands, from the rendezvous, who told him his people were
all there expecting him. As to the slaughter among the buffaloes,
it had been made by a friendly band of Shoshonies, who had fallen
in with one of his trapping parties, and accompanied them to the
rendezvous. Having imparted this intelligence, the three worthies
from the rendezvous broached a small keg of "alcohol," which they
had brought with them. to enliven this merry meeting. The liquor
went briskly round; all absent friends were toasted, and the
party moved forward to the rendezvous in high spirits.

The meeting of associated bands, who have been separated from
each other on these hazardous enterprises, is always interesting;
each having its tales of perils and adventures to relate.  Such
was the case with the various detachments of Captain Bonneville's
company, thus brought together on Horse Creek.  Here was the
detachment of fifty men which he had sent from Salmon River, in
the preceding month of November, to winter on Snake River. They
had met with many crosses and losses in the course of their
spring hunt, not so much from Indians as from white men.  They
had come in competition with rival trapping parties, particularly
one belonging to the Rocky Mountain Fur Company; and they had
long stories to relate of their manoeuvres to forestall or
distress each other. In fact, in these virulent and sordid
competitions, the trappers of each party were more intent upon
injuring their rivals, than benefitting themselves; breaking each
other's traps, trampling and tearing to pieces the beaver lodges,
and doing every thing in their power to mar the success of the
hunt. We forbear to detail these pitiful contentions.

The most lamentable tale of disasters, however, that Captain
Bonneville had to hear, was from a partisan, whom he had detached
in the preceding year, with twenty men, to hunt through the
outskirts of the Crow country, and on the tributary streams of
the Yellowstone; whence he was to proceed and join him in his
winter quarters on Salmon River.  This partisan appeared at the
rendezvous without his party, and a sorrowful tale of disasters
had he to relate.  In hunting the Crow country, he fell in with a
village of that tribe; notorious rogues,  jockeys, and horse
stealers, and errant scamperers of the mountains. These decoyed
most of his men to desert, and carry off horses, traps, and
accoutrements. When he attempted to retake the deserters, the
Crow warriors ruffled up to him and declared the deserters were
their good friends, had determined to remain among them, and
should not be molested. The poor partisan, therefore, was fain to
leave his vagabonds among these birds of their own feather, and
being too weak in numbers to attempt the dangerous pass across
the mountains to meet Captain Bonneville on Salmon River, he
made, with the few that remained faithful to him, for the
neighborhood of Tullock's Fort, on the Yellowstone, under the
protection of which he went into winter quarters.

He soon found out that the neighborhood of the fort was nearly as
bad as the neighborhood of the Crows. His men were continually
stealing away thither, with whatever beaver skins they could
secrete or lay their hands on. These they would exchange with the
hangers-on of the fort for whiskey, and then revel in drunkeness
and debauchery.

The unlucky partisan made another move. Associating with his
party a few free trappers, whom he met with in this neighborhood,
he started off early in the spring to trap on the head waters of
Powder River.  In the course of the journey, his horses were so
much jaded in traversing a steep mountain, that he was induced to
turn them loose to graze during the night. The place was lonely;
the path was rugged; there was not the sign of an Indian in the
neighborhood; not a blade of grass that had been turned by a
footstep. But who can calculate on security in the midst of the
Indian country, where the foe lurks in silence and secrecy, and
seems to come and go on the wings of the wind? The horses had
scarce been turned loose, when a couple of Arickara (or Rickaree)
warriors entered the camp. They affected a frank and friendly
demeanor; but their appearance and movements awakened the
suspicions of some of the veteran trappers, well versed in Indian
wiles. Convinced that they were spies sent on some sinister
errand, they took them in custody, and set to work to drive in
the horses. It was too late -- the horses were already gone. In
fact, a war party of Arickaras had been hovering on their trail
for several days, watching with the patience and perseverance of
Indians, for some moment of negligence and fancied security, to
make a successful swoop. The two spies had evidently been sent
into the camp to create a diversion, while their confederates
carried off the spoil.

The unlucky partisan, thus robbed of his horses, turned furiously
on his prisoners, ordered them to be bound hand and foot, and
swore to put them to death unless his property were restored. The
robbers, who soon found that their spies were in captivity, now
made their appearance on horseback, and held a parley. The sight
of them, mounted on the very horses they had stolen, set the
blood of the mountaineers in a ferment; but it was useless to
attack them, as they would have but to turn their steeds and
scamper out of the reach of pedestrians. A negotiation was now
attempted. The Arickaras offered what they considered fair terms;
to barter one horse, or even two horses, for a prisoner. The
mountaineers spurned at their offer, and declared that, unless
all the horses were relinquished, the prisoners should be burnt
to death. To give force to their threat, a pyre of logs and
fagots was heaped up and kindled into a blaze.

The parley continued; the Arickaras released one horse and then
another, in earnest of their proposition; finding, however, that
nothing short of the relinquishment of all their spoils would
purchase the lives of the captives, they abandoned them to their
fate, moving off with many parting words and lamentable howlings.
The prisoners seeing them depart, and knowing the horrible fate
that awaited them, made a desperate effort to escape. They
partially succeeded, but were severely wounded and retaken; then
dragged to the blazing pyre, and burnt to death in the sight of
their retreating comrades.

Such are the savage cruelties that white men learn to practise,
who mingle in savage life; and such are the acts that lead to
terrible recrimination on the part of the Indians. Should we hear
of any atrocities committed by the Arickaras upon captive white
men, let this signal and recent provocation be borne in mind.
Individual cases of the kind dwell in the recollections of whole
tribes; and it is a point of honor and conscience to revenge
them.

The loss of his horses completed the ruin of the unlucky
partisan. It was out of his power to prosecute his hunting, or to
maintain his party; the only thought now was how to get back to
civilized life. At the first water-course, his men built canoes,
and committed themselves to the stream. Some engaged themselves
at various trading establishments at which they touched, others
got back to the settlements. As to the partisan, he found an
opportunity to make his way to the rendezvous at Green River
Valley; which he reached in time to render to Captain Bonneville
this forlorn account of his misadventures.




                               20
                                
   Gathering in Green River valley Visitings and feastings of
 leaders Rough wassailing among the trappers Wild blades of the
mountains Indian belles Potency of bright beads and red blankets 
Arrival of supplies Revelry and extravagance Mad wolves The lost
                            Indian 

THE GREEN RIVER VALLEY was at this time the scene of one of those
general gatherings of traders, trappers, and Indians, that we
have already mentioned. The three rival companies, which, for a
year past had been endeavoring to out-trade, out-trap and out-wit
each other, were here encamped in close proximity, awaiting their
annual supplies. About four miles from the rendezvous of Captain
Bonneville was that of the American Fur Company, hard by which,
was that also of the Rocky Mountain Fur Company.

After the eager rivalry and almost hostility displayed by these
companies in their late campaigns, it might be expected that,
when thus brought in juxtaposition, they would hold themselves
warily and sternly aloof from each other, and, should they happen
to come in contact, brawl and bloodshed would ensue.

No such thing! Never did rival lawyers, after a wrangle at the
bar, meet with more social good humor at a circuit dinner. The
hunting season over, all past tricks and maneuvres are forgotten,
all feuds and bickerings buried in oblivion. From the middle of
June to the middle of September, all trapping is suspended; for
the beavers are then shedding their furs and their skins are of
little value. This, then, is the trapper's holiday, when he is
all for fun and frolic, and ready for a saturnalia among the
mountains.

At the present season, too, all parties were in good humor. The
year had been productive. Competition, by threatening to lessen
their profits, had quickened their wits, roused their energies,
and made them turn every favorable chance to the best advantage;
so that, on assembling at their respective places of rendezvous,
each company found itself in possession of a rich stock of
peltries.

The leaders of the different companies, therefore, mingled on
terms of perfect good fellowship; interchanging visits, and
regaling each other in the best style their respective camps
afforded. But the rich treat for the worthy captain was to see
the "chivalry" of the various encampments, engaged in contests of
skill at running, jumping, wrestling, shooting with the rifle,
and running horses. And then their rough hunters' feastings and
carousels. They drank together, they sang, they laughed, they
whooped; they tried to out-brag and out-lie each other in stories
of their adventures and achievements. Here the free trappers were
in all their glory; they considered themselves the "cocks of the
walk," and always carried the highest crests. Now and then
familiarity was pushed too far, and would effervesce into a
brawl, and a "rough and tumble" fight; but it all ended in
cordial reconciliation and maudlin endearment.

The presence of the Shoshonie tribe contributed occasionally to
cause temporary jealousies and feuds. The Shoshonie beauties
became objects of rivalry among some of the amorous mountaineers.
Happy was the trapper who could muster up a red blanket, a string
of gay beads, or a paper of precious vermilion, with which to win
the smiles of a Shoshonie fair one.

The caravans of supplies arrived at the valley just at this
period of gallantry and good fellowship. Now commenced a scene of
eager competition and wild prodigality at the different
encampments. Bales were hastily ripped open, and their motley
contents poured forth. A mania for purchasing spread itself
throughout the several bands--munitions for war, for hunting, for
gallantry, were seized upon with equal avidity--rifles, hunting
knives, traps, scarlet cloth, red blankets, garish beads, and
glittering trinkets, were bought at any price, and scores run up
without any thought how they were ever to be rubbed off. The free
trappers, especially, were extravagant in their purchases. For a
free mountaineer to pause at a paltry consideration of dollars
and cents, in the attainment of any object that might strike his
fancy, would stamp him with the mark of the beast in the
estimation of his comrades. For a trader to refuse one of these
free and flourishing blades a credit, whatever unpaid scores
might stare him in the face, would be a flagrant affront scarcely
to be forgiven.

Now succeeded another outbreak of revelry and extravagance. The
trappers were newly fitted out and arrayed, and dashed about with
their horses caparisoned in Indian style. The Shoshonie beauties
also flaunted about in all the colors of the rainbow. Every freak
of prodigality was indulged to its fullest extent, and in a
little while most of the trappers, having squandered away all
their wages, and perhaps run knee-deep in debt, were ready for
another hard campaign in the wilderness.

During this season of folly and frolic, there was an alarm of mad
wolves in the two lower camps. One or more of these animals
entered the camps for three nights successively, and bit several
of the people.

Captain Bonneville relates the case of an Indian, who was a
universal favorite in the lower camp. He had been bitten by one
of these animals. Being out with a party shortly afterwards, he
grew silent and gloomy, and lagged behind the rest as if he
wished to leave them. They halted and urged him to move faster,
but he entreated them not to approach him, and, leaping from his
horse, began to roll frantically on the earth, gnashing his teeth
and foaming at the mouth. Still he retained his senses, and
warned his companions not to come near him, as he should not be
able to restrain himself from biting them. They hurried off to
obtain relief; but on their return he was nowhere to be found.
His horse and his accoutrements remained upon the spot. Three or
four days afterwards a solitary Indian, believed to be the same,
was observed crossing a valley, and pursued; but he darted away
into the fastnesses of the mountains, and was seen no more.

Another instance we have from a different person who was present
in the encampment. One of the men of the Rocky Mountain Fur
Company had been bitten. He set out shortly afterwards in company
with two white men on his return to the settlements. In the
course of a few days he showed symptoms of hydrophobia, and
became raving toward night. At length, breaking away from his
companions, he rushed into a thicket of willows, where they left
him to his fate!



                               21
                                
Schemes of Captain Bonneville The Great Salt Lake Expedition to
     explore it Preparations for a journey to the Bighorn 

CAPTAIN BONNEVILLE now found himself at the head of a hardy,
well-seasoned and well-appointed company of trappers, all
benefited by at least one year's experience among the mountains,
and capable of protecting themselves from Indian wiles and
stratagems, and of providing for their subsistence wherever game
was to be found. He had, also, an excellent troop of horses, in
prime condition, and fit for hard service. He determined,
therefore, to strike out into some of the bolder parts of his
scheme. One of these was to carry his expeditions into some of
the unknown tracts of the Far West, beyond what is generally
termed the buffalo range. This would have something of the merit
and charm of discovery, so dear to every brave and adventurous
spirit. Another favorite project was to establish a trading post
on the lower part of the Columbia River, near the Multnomah
valley, and to endeavor to retrieve for his country some of the
lost trade of Astoria.

The first of the above mentioned views was, at present, uppermost
in his mind--the exploring of unknown regions. Among the grand
features of the wilderness about which he was roaming, one had
made a vivid impression on his mind, and been clothed by his
imagination with vague and ideal charms. This is a great lake of
salt water, laving the feet of the mountains, but extending far
to the west-southwest, into one of those vast and elevated
plateaus of land, which range high above the level of the
Pacific.

Captain Bonneville gives a striking account of the lake when seen
from the land. As you ascend the mountains about its shores, says
he, you behold this immense body of water spreading itself before
you, and stretching further and further, in one wide and
far-reaching expanse, until the eye, wearied with continued and
strained attention, rests in the blue dimness of distance, upon
lofty ranges of mountains, confidently asserted to rise from the
bosom of the waters. Nearer to you, the smooth and unruffled
surface is studded with little islands, where the mountain sheep
roam in considerable numbers. What extent of lowland may be
encompassed by the high peaks beyond, must remain for the present
matter of mere conjecture though from the form of the summits,
and the breaks which may be discovered among them, there can be
little doubt that they are the sources of streams calculated to
water large tracts, which are probably concealed from view by the
rotundity of the lake's surface. At some future day, in all
probability, the rich harvest of beaver fur, which may be
reasonably anticipated in such a spot, will tempt adventurers to
reduce all this doubtful region to the palpable certainty of a
beaten track.  At present, however, destitute of the means of
making boats, the trapper stands upon the shore, and gazes upon a
promised land which his feet are never to tread.

Such is the somewhat fanciful view which Captain Bonneville gives
to this great body of water. He has evidently taken part of his
ideas concerning it from the representations of others, who have
somewhat exaggerated its features. It is reported to be about one
hundred and fifty miles long, and fifty miles broad. The ranges
of mountain peaks which Captain Bonneville speaks of, as rising
from its bosom, are probably the summits of mountains beyond it,
which may be visible at a vast distance, when viewed from an
eminence, in the transparent atmosphere of these lofty regions.
Several large islands certainly exist in the lake; one of which
is said to be mountainous, but not by any means to the extent
required to furnish the series of peaks above mentioned.

Captain Sublette, in one of his early expeditions across the
mountains, is said to have sent four men in a skin canoe, to
explore the lake, who professed to have navigated all round it;
but to have suffered excessively from thirst, the water of the
lake being extremely salt, and there being no fresh streams
running into it.

Captain Bonneville doubts this report, or that the men
accomplished the circumnavigation, because, he says, the lake
receives several large streams from the mountains which bound it
to the east. In the spring, when the streams are swollen by rain
and by the melting of the snows, the lake rises several feet
above its ordinary level during the summer, it gradually subsides
again, leaving a sparkling zone of the finest salt upon its
shores.

The elevation of the vast plateau on which this lake is situated,
is estimated by Captain Bonneville at one and three-fourths of a
mile above the level of the ocean. The admirable purity and
transparency of the atmosphere in this region, allowing objects
to be seen, and the report of firearms to be heard, at an
astonishing distance; and its extreme dryness, causing the wheels
of wagons to fall in pieces, as instanced in former passages of
this work, are proofs of the great altitude of the Rocky Mountain
plains. That a body of salt water should exist at such a height
is cited as a singular phenomenon by Captain Bonneville, though
the salt lake of Mexico is not much inferior in elevation.

To have this lake properly explored, and all its secrets
revealed, was the grand scheme of the captain for the present
year; and while it was one in which his imagination evidently
took a leading part, he believed it would be attended with great
profit, from the numerous beaver streams with which the lake must
be fringed.

This momentous undertaking he confided to his lieutenant, Mr.
Walker, in whose experience and ability he had great confidence.
He instructed him to keep along the shores of the lake, and trap
in all the streams on his route; also to keep a journal, and
minutely to record the events of his journey, and everything
curious or interesting, making maps or charts of his route, and
of the surrounding country.

No pains nor expense were spared in fitting out the party, of
forty men, which he was to command. They had complete supplies
for a year, and were to meet Captain Bonneville in the ensuing
summer, in the valley of Bear River, the largest tributary of the
Salt Lake, which was to be his point of general rendezvous.

The next care of Captain Bonneville was to arrange for the safe
transportation of the peltries which he had collected to the
Atlantic States. Mr. Robert Campbell, the partner of Sublette,
was at this time in the rendezvous of the Rocky Mountain Fur
Company, having brought up their supplies. He was about to set
off on his return, with the peltries collected during the year,
and intended to proceed through the Crow country, to the head of
navigation on the Bighorn River, and to descend in boats down
that river, the Missouri, and the Yellowstone, to St. Louis.

Captain Bonneville determined to forward his peltries by the same
route, under the especial care of Mr. Cerre. By way of escort, he
would accompany Cerre to the point of embarkation, and then make
an autumnal hunt in the Crow country.



                               22
                                
The Crow country A Crow paradise Habits of the Crows Anecdotes of
Rose, the renegade white man  His fights with the Blackfeet His
    elevation His death Arapooish, the Crow chief His eagle 
        Adventure of Robert Campbell Honor among Crows 

BEFORE WE ACCOMPANY Captain Bonneville into the Crow country, we
will impart a few facts about this wild region, and the wild
people who inhabit it. We are not aware of the precise
boundaries, if there are any, of the country claimed by the
Crows; it appears to extend from the Black Hills to the Rocky
Mountains, including a part of their lofty ranges, and embracing
many of the plains and valleys watered by the Wind River, the
Yellowstone, the Powder River, the Little Missouri, and the
Nebraska. The country varies in soil and climate; there are vast
plains of sand and clay, studded with large red sand-hills; other
parts are mountainous and picturesque; it possesses warm springs,
and coal mines, and abounds with game.

But let us give the account of the country as rendered by
Arapooish, a Crow chief, to Mr. Robert Campbell, of the Rocky
Mountain Fur Company.

"The Crow country," said he, "is a good country. The Great Spirit
has put it exactly in the right place; while you-are in it you
fare well; whenever you go out of it, whichever way you travel,
you fare worse.

"If you go to the south, you have to wander over great barren
plains; the water is warm and bad, and you meet the fever and
ague.

"To the north it is cold; the winters are long and bitter, with
no grass; you cannot keep horses there, but must travel with
dogs. What is a country without horses?

"On the Columbia they are poor and dirty, paddle about in canoes,
and eat fish. Their teeth are worn out; they are always taking
fish-bones out of their mouths. Fish is poor food.

"To the east, they dwell in villages; they live well; but they
drink the muddy water of the Missouri--that is bad. A Crow's dog
would not drink such water.

"About the forks of the Missouri is a fine country; good water;
good grass; plenty of buffalo. In summer, it is almost as good as
the Crow country; but in winter it is cold; the grass is gone;
and there is no salt weed for the horses.

"The Crow country is exactly in the right place. It has snowy
mountains and sunny plains; all kinds of climates and good things
for every season. When the summer heats scorch the prairies, you
can draw up under the mountains, where the air is sweet and cool,
the grass fresh, and the bright streams come tumbling out of the
snow-banks. There you can hunt the elk, the deer, and the
antelope, when their skins are fit for dressing; there you will
find plenty of white bears and mountain sheep.

"In the autumn, when your horses are fat and strong from the
mountain pastures, you can go down into the plains and hunt the
buffalo, or trap beaver on the streams. And when winter comes on,
you can take shelter in the woody bottoms along the rivers; there
you will find buffalo meat for yourselves, and cotton-wood bark
for your horses: or you may winter in the Wind River valley,
where there is salt weed in abundance.

"The Crow country is exactly in the right place. Everything good
is to be found there. There is no country like the Crow country."

Such is the eulogium on his country by Arapooish.

We have had repeated occasions to speak of the restless and
predatory habits of the Crows. They can muster fifteen hundred
fighting men, but their incessant wars with the Blackfeet, and
their vagabond, predatory habits, are gradually wearing them out.

In a recent work, we related the circumstance of a white man
named Rose, an outlaw, and a designing vagabond, who acted as
guide and interpreter to Mr. Hunt and his party, on their journey
across the mountains to Astoria, who came near betraying them
into the hands of the Crows, and who remained among the tribe,
marrying one of their women, and adopting their congenial habits.
A few anecdotes of the subsequent fortunes of that renegade may
not be uninteresting, especially as they are connected with the
fortunes of the tribe.

Rose was powerful in frame and fearless in spirit; and soon by
his daring deeds took his rank among the first braves of the
tribe. He aspired to command, and knew it was only to be attained
by desperate exploits. He distinguished himself in repeated
actions with Blackfeet. On one occasion, a band of those savages
had fortified themselves within a breastwork, and could not be
harmed. Rose proposed to storm the work. "Who will take the
lead?" was the demand. "I!" cried he; and putting himself at
their head, rushed forward. The first Blackfoot that opposed him
he shot down with his rifle, and, snatching up the war-club of
his victim, killed four others within the fort. The victory was
complete, and Rose returned to the Crow village covered with
glory, and bearing five Blackfoot scalps, to be erected as a
trophy before his lodge. From this time, he was known among the
Crows by the name of Che-ku-kaats, or "the man who killed five."
He became chief of the village, or rather band, and for a time
was the popular idol. His popularity soon awakened envy among the
native braves; he was a stranger, an intruder, a white man. A
party seceded from his command. Feuds and civil wars succeeded
that lasted for two or three years, until Rose, having contrived
to set his adopted brethren by the ears, left them, and went down
the Missouri in 1823. Here he fell in with one of the earliest
trapping expeditions sent by General Ashley across the mountains.
It was conducted by Smith, Fitzpatrick, and Sublette. Rose
enlisted with them as guide and interpreter. When he got them
among the Crows, he was exceedingly generous with their goods;
making presents to the braves of his adopted tribe, as became a
high-minded chief.

This, doubtless, helped to revive his popularity. In that
expedition, Smith and Fitzpatrick were robbed of their horses in
Green River valley; the place where the robbery took place still
bears the name of Horse Creek. We are not informed whether the
horses were stolen through the instigation and management of
Rose; it is not improbable, for such was the perfidy he had
intended to practice on a former occasion toward Mr. Hunt and his
party.

The last anecdote we have of Rose is from an Indian trader. When
General Atkinson made his military expedition up the Missouri, in
1825, to protect the fur trade, he held a conference with the
Crow nation, at which Rose figured as Indian dignitary and Crow
interpreter. The military were stationed at some little distance
from the scene of the "big talk"; while the general and the
chiefs were smoking pipes and making speeches, the officers,
supposing all was friendly, left the troops, and drew near the
scene of ceremonial. Some of the more knowing Crows, perceiving
this, stole quietly to the camp, and, unobserved, contrived to
stop the touch-holes of the field-pieces with dirt. Shortly
after, a misunderstanding occurred in the conference: some of the
Indians, knowing the cannon to be useless, became insolent. A
tumult arose. In the confusion, Colonel O'Fallan snapped a pistol
in the face of a brave, and knocked him down with the butt end.
The Crows were all in a fury. A chance-medley fight was on the
point of taking place, when Rose, his natural sympathies as a
white man suddenly recurring, broke the stock of his fusee over
the head of a Crow warrior, and laid so vigorously about him with
the barrel, that he soon put the whole throng to flight. Luckily,
as no lives had been lost, this sturdy rib roasting calmed the
fury of the Crows, and the tumult ended without serious
consequences.

What was the ultimate fate of this vagabond hero is not
distinctly known. Some report him to have fallen a victim to
disease, brought on by his licentious life; others assert that he
was murdered in a feud among the Crows. After all, his residence
among these savages, and the influence he acquired over them,
had, for a time, some beneficial effects. He is said, not merely
to have rendered them more formidable to the Blackfeet, but to
have opened their eyes to the policy of cultivating the
friendship of the white men.

After Rose's death, his policy continued to be cultivated, with
indifferent success, by Arapooish, the chief already mentioned,
who had been his great friend, and whose character he had
contributed to develope. This sagacious chief endeavored, on
every occasion, to restrain the predatory propensities of his
tribe when directed against the white men. "If we keep friends
with them," said he, "we have nothing to fear from the Blackfeet,
and can rule the mountains." Arapooish pretended to be a great
"medicine man", a character among the Indians which is a compound
of priest, doctor, prophet, and conjurer. He carried about with
him a tame eagle, as his "medicine" or familiar. With the white
men, he acknowledged that this was all charlatanism, but said it
was necessary, to give him weight and influence among his people.

Mr. Robert Campbell, from whom we have most of these facts, in
the course of one of his trapping expeditions, was quartered in
the village of Arapooish, and a guest in the lodge of the
chieftain. He had collected a large quantity of furs, and,
fearful of being plundered, deposited but a part in the lodge of
the chief; the rest he buried in a cache. One night, Arapooish
came into the lodge with a cloudy brow, and seated himself for a
time without saying a word. At length, turning to Campbell, "You
have more furs with you," said he, "than you have brought into my
lodge?"

"I have," replied Campbell.

"Where are they?"

Campbell knew the uselessness of any prevarication with an
Indian; and the importance of complete frankness. He described
the exact place where he had concealed his peltries.

" 'Tis well," replied Arapooish; "you speak straight. It is just
as you say. But your cache has been robbed. Go and see how many
skins have been taken from it."

Campbell examined the cache, and estimated his loss to be about
one hundred and fifty beaver skins.

Arapooish now summoned a meeting of the village. He bitterly
reproached his people for robbing a stranger who had confided to
their honor; and commanded that whoever had taken the skins,
should bring them back: declaring that, as Campbell was his guest
and inmate of his lodge, he would not eat nor drink until every
skin was restored to him.

The meeting broke up, and every one dispersed. Arapooish now
charged Campbell to give neither reward nor thanks to any one who
should bring in the beaver skins, but to keep count as they were
delivered.

In a little while, the skins began to make their appearance, a
few at a time; they were laid down in the lodge, and those who
brought them departed without saying a word. The day passed away.
Arapooish sat in one corner of his lodge, wrapped up in his robe,
scarcely moving a muscle of his countenance. When night arrived,
he demanded if all the skins had been brought in. Above a hundred
had been given up, and Campbell expressed himself contented. Not
so the Crow chieftain. He fasted all that night, nor tasted a
drop of water. In the morning, some more skins were brought in,
and continued to come, one and two at a time, throughout the day,
until but a few were wanting to make the number complete.
Campbell was now anxious to put an end to this fasting of the old
chief, and again declared that he was perfectly satisfied.
Arapooish demanded what number of skins were yet wanting. On
being told, he whispered to some of his people, who disappeared.
After a time the number were brought in, though it was evident
they were not any of the skins that had been stolen, but others
gleaned in the village.

"Is all right now?" demanded Arapooish.

"All is right," replied Campbell.

"Good! Now bring me meat and drink!"

When they were alone together, Arapooish had a conversation with
his guest.

"When you come another time among the Crows," said he, "don't
hide your goods: trust to them and they will not wrong you. Put
your goods in the lodge of a chief, and they are sacred; hide
them in a cache, and any one who finds will steal them. My people
have now given up your goods for my sake; but there are some
foolish young men in the village, who may be disposed to be
troublesome. Don't linger, therefore, but pack your horses and be
off."

Campbell took his advice, and made his way safely out of the Crow
country. He has ever since maintained that the Crows are not so
black as they are painted. "Trust to their honor," says he, "and
you are safe: trust to their honesty, and they will steal the
hair off your head."

Having given these few preliminary particulars, we will resume
the course of our narrative.



                              23.
                                
Departure from Green River valley Popo Agie Its course The rivers
     into which it runs Scenery of the Bluffs the great Tar
 Spring Volcanic tracts in the Crow country Burning Mountain of
  Powder River Sulphur springs Hidden fires Colter's Hell Wind
  River Campbell's party Fitzpatrick and his trappers Captain
 Stewart, an amateur traveller Nathaniel Wyeth Anecdotes of his
expedition to the Far West Disaster of Campbell's party A union
         of bands The Bad Pass The rapids Departure of
     Fitzpatrick Embarkation of peltries Wyeth and his bull
      boat Adventures of Captain Bonneville in the Bighorn
 Mountains Adventures in the plain Traces of Indians Travelling
     precautions Dangers of making a smoke  The rendezvous

ON THE 25TH of July, Captain Bonneville struck his tents, and set
out on his route for the Bighorn, at the head of a party of
fifty-six men, including those who were to embark with Cerre.
Crossing the Green River valley, he proceeded along the south
point of the Wind River range of mountains, and soon fell upon
the track of Mr. Robert Campbell's party, which had preceded him
by a day. This he pursued, until he perceived that it led down
the banks of the Sweet Water to the southeast. As this was
different from his proposed direction, he left it; and turning to
the northeast, soon came upon the waters of the Popo Agie. This
stream takes its rise in the Wind River Mountains. Its name, like
most Indian names, is characteristic.  Popo, in the Crow
language, signifies head; and Agie, river. It is the head of a
long river, extending from the south end of the Wind River
Mountains in a northeast direction, until it falls into the
Yellowstone. Its course is generally through plains, but is twice
crossed by chains of mountains; the first called the Littlehorn;
the second, the Bighorn. After it has forced its way through the
first chain, it is called the Horn River; after the second chain,
it is called the Bighorn River.  Its passage through this last
chain is rough and violent; making repeated falls, and rushing
down long and furious rapids, which threaten destruction to the
navigator; though a hardy trapper is said to have shot down them
in a canoe. At the foot of these rapids, is the head of
navigation; where it was the intention of the parties to
construct boats, and embark.

Proceeding down along the Popo Agie, Captain Bonneville came
again in full view of the "Bluffs," as they are called, extending
from the base of the Wind River Mountains far away to the east,
and presenting to the eye a confusion of hills and cliffs of red
sandstone, some peaked and angular, some round, some broken into
crags and precipices, and piled up in fantastic masses; but all
naked and sterile. There appeared to be no soil favorable to
vegetation, nothing but coarse gravel; yet, over all this
isolated, barren landscape, were diffused such atmospherical
tints and hues, as to blend the whole into harmony and beauty.  

In this neighborhood, the captain made search for "the great Tar
Spring," one of the wonders of the mountains; the medicinal
properties of which, he had heard extravagantly lauded by the
trappers. After a toilsome search, he found it at the foot of a
sand-bluff, a little east of the Wind River Mountains; where it
exuded in a small stream of the color and consistency of tar. The
men immediately hastened to collect a quantity of it, to use as
an ointment for the galled backs of their horses, and as a balsam
for their own pains and aches. From the description given of it,
it is evidently the bituminous oil, called petrolium or naphtha,
which forms a principal ingredient in the potent medicine called
British Oil. It is found in various parts of Europe and Asia, in
several of the West India islands, and in some places of the
United States. In the state of New York, it is called Seneca Oil,
from being found near the Seneca lake.  

The Crow country has other natural curiosities, which are held in
superstitious awe by the Indians, and considered great marvels by
the trappers. Such is the Burning Mountain, on Powder River,
abounding with anthracite coal. Here the earth is hot and
cracked; in many places emitting smoke and sulphurous vapors, as
if covering concealed fires. A volcanic tract of similar
character is found on Stinking River, one of the tributaries of
the Bighorn, which takes its unhappy name from the odor derived
from sulphurous springs and streams. This last mentioned place
was first discovered by Colter, a hunter belonging to Lewis and
Clarke's exploring party, who came upon it in the course of his
lonely wanderings, and gave such an account of its gloomy
terrors, its hidden fires, smoking pits, noxious streams, and the
all-pervading "smell of brimstone," that it received, and has
ever since retained among trappers, the name of "Colter's Hell!"  

Resuming his descent along the left bank of the Popo Agie,
Captain Bonneville soon reached the plains; where he found
several large streams entering from the west. Among these was
Wind River, which gives its name to the mountains among which it
takes its rise. This is one of the most important streams of the
Crow country. The river being much swollen, Captain Bonneville
halted at its mouth, and sent out scouts to look for a fording
place. While thus encamped, he beheld in the course of the
afternoon a long line of horsemen descending the slope of the
hills on the opposite side of the Popo Agie. His first idea was
that they were Indians; he soon discovered, however, that they
were white men, and, by the long line of pack-horses, ascertained
them to be the convoy of Campbell, which, having descended the
Sweet Water, was now on its way to the Horn River.  

The two parties came together two or three days afterwards, on
the 4th of August, after having passed through the gap of the
Littlehorn Mountain. In company with Campbell's convoy was a
trapping party of the Rocky Mountain Company, headed by
Fitzpatrick; who, after Campbell's embarkation on the Bighorn,
was to take charge of all the horses, and proceed on a trapping
campaign. There were, moreover, two chance companions in the
rival camp. One was Captain Stewart, of the British army, a
gentleman of noble connections, who was amusing himself by a
wandering tour in the Far West; in the course of which, he had
lived in hunter's style; accompanying various bands of traders,
trappers, and Indians; and manifesting that relish for the
wilderness that belongs to men of game spirit.  

The other casual inmate of Mr. Campbell's camp was Mr. Nathaniel
Wyeth; the self-same leader of the band of New England salmon
fishers, with whom we parted company in the valley of Pierre's
Hole, after the battle with the Blackfeet. A few days after that
affair, he again set out from the rendezvous in company with
Milton Sublette and his brigade of trappers. On his march, he
visited the battle ground, and penetrated to the deserted fort of
the Blackfeet in the midst of the wood. It was a dismal scene.
The fort was strewed with the mouldering bodies of the slain;
while vultures soared aloft, or sat brooding on the trees around;
and Indian dogs howled about the place, as if bewailing the death
of their masters.  Wyeth travelled for a considerable distance to
the southwest, in company with Milton Sublette, when they
separated; and the former, with eleven men, the remnant of his
band, pushed on for Snake River; kept down the course of that
eventful stream; traversed the Blue Mountains, trapping beaver
occasionally by the way, and finally, after hardships of all
kinds, arrived, on the 29th of October, at Vancouver, on the
Columbia, the main factory of the Hudson's Bay Company.  

He experienced hospitable treatment at the hands of the agents of
that company; but his men, heartily tired of wandering in the
wilderness, or tempted by other prospects, refused, for the most
part, to continue any longer in his service. Some set off for the
Sandwich Islands; some entered into other employ. Wyeth found,
too, that a great part of the goods he had brought with him were
unfitted for the Indian trade; in a word, his expedition,
undertaken entirely on his own resources, proved a failure. He
lost everything invested in it, but his hopes. These were as
strong as ever. He took note of every thing, therefore, that
could be of service to him in the further prosecution of his
project; collected all the information within his reach, and then
set off, accompanied by merely two men, on his return journey
across the continent. He had got thus far "by hook and by crook,"
a mode in which a New England man can make his way all over the
world, and through all kinds of difficulties, and was now bound
for Boston; in full confidence of being able to form a company
for the salmon fishery and fur trade of the Columbia.  

The party of Mr. Campbell had met with a disaster in the course
of their route from the Sweet Water. Three or four of the men,
who were reconnoitering the country in advance of the main body,
were visited one night in their camp, by fifteen or twenty
Shoshonies. Considering this tribe as perfectly friendly, they
received them in the most cordial and confiding manner. In the
course of the night, the man on guard near the horses fell sound
asleep; upon which a Shoshonie shot him in the head, and nearly
killed him. The savages then made off with the horses, leaving
the rest of the party to find their way to the main body on foot. 


The rival companies of Captain Bonneville and Mr. Campbell, thus
fortuitously brought together, now prosecuted their journey in
great good fellowship; forming a joint camp of about a hundred
men. The captain, however, began to entertain doubts that
Fitzpatrick and his trappers, who kept profound silence as to
their future movements, intended to hunt the same grounds which
he had selected for his autumnal campaign; which lay to the west
of the Horn River, on its tributary streams. In the course of his
march, therefore, he secretly detached a small party of trappers,
to make their way to those hunting grounds, while he continued on
with the main body; appointing a rendezvous, at the next full
moon, about the 28th of August, at a place called the Medicine
Lodge.  

On reaching the second chain, called the Bighorn Mountains, where
the river forced its impetuous way through a precipitous defile,
with cascades and rapids, the travellers were obliged to leave
its banks, and traverse the mountains by a rugged and frightful
route, emphatically called the "Bad Pass." Descending the
opposite side, they again made for the river banks; and about the
middle of August, reached the point below the rapids where the
river becomes navigable for boats. Here Captain Bonneville
detached a second party of trappers, consisting of ten men, to
seek and join those whom he had detached while on the route;
appointing for them the same rendezvous, (at the Medicine Lodge,)
on the 28th of August.  

All hands now set to work to construct "bull boats," as they are
technically called; a light, fragile kind of bark, characteristic
of the expedients and inventions of the wilderness; being formed
of buffalo skins, stretched on frames. They are sometimes, also,
called skin boats. Wyeth was the first ready; and, with his usual
promptness and hardihood, launched his frail bark, singly, on
this wild and hazardous voyage, down an almost interminable
succession of rivers, winding through countries teeming with
savage hordes. Milton Sublette, his former fellow traveller, and
his companion in the battle scenes of Pierre's Hole, took passage
in his boat. His crew consisted of two white men, and two
Indians. We shall hear further of Wyeth, and his wild voyage, in
the course of our wanderings about the Far West.  

The remaining parties soon completed their several armaments.
That of Captain Bonneville was composed of three bull boats, in
which he embarked all his peltries, giving them in charge of Mr.
Cerre, with a party of thirty-six men. Mr. Campbell took command
of his own boats, and the little squadrons were soon gliding down
the bright current of the Bighorn.  

The secret precautions which Captain Bonneville had taken to
throw his men first into the trapping ground west of the Bighorn,
were, probably, superfluous. It did not appear that Fitzpatrick
had intended to hunt in that direction. The moment Mr. Campbell
and his men embarked with the peltries, Fitzpatrick took charge
of all the horses, amounting to above a hundred, and struck off
to the east, to trap upon Littlehorn, Powder, and Tongue rivers. 
He was accompanied by Captain Stewart, who was desirous of having
a range about the Crow country. Of the adventures they met with
in that region of vagabonds and horse stealers, we shall have
something to relate hereafter.  

Captain Bonneville being now left to prosecute his trapping
campaign without rivalry, set out, on the 17th of August, for the
rendezvous at Medicine Lodge. He had but four men remaining with
him, and forty-six horses to take care of; with these he had to
make his way over mountain and plain, through a marauding,
horse-stealing region, full of peril for a numerous cavalcade so
slightly manned. He addressed himself to his difficult journey,
however, with his usual alacrity of spirit.  

In the afternoon of his first day's journey, on drawing near to
the Bighorn Mountain, on the summit of which he intended to
encamp for the night, he observed, to his disquiet, a cloud of
smoke rising from its base. He came to a halt, and watched it
anxiously. It was very irregular; sometimes it would almost die
away; and then would mount up in heavy volumes. There was,
apparently, a large party encamped there; probably, some ruffian
horde of Blackfeet. At any rate, it would not do for so small a
number of men, with so numerous a cavalcade, to venture within
sight of any wandering tribe. Captain Bonneville and his
companions, therefore, avoided this dangerous neighborhood; and,
proceeding with extreme caution, reached the summit of the
mountain, apparently without being discovered. Here they found a
deserted Blackfoot fort, in which they ensconced themselves;
disposed of every thing as securely as possible, and passed the
night without molestation. Early the next morning they descended
the south side of the mountain into the great plain extending
between it and the Littlehorn range. Here they soon came upon
numerous footprints, and the carcasses of buffaloes; by which
they knew there must be Indians not far off. Captain Bonneville
now began to feel solicitude about the two small parties of
trappers which he had detached, lest the Indians should have come
upon them before they had united their forces. But he felt still
more solicitude about his own party; for it was hardly to be
expected he could traverse these naked plains undiscovered, when
Indians were abroad; and should he be discovered, his chance
would be a desperate one. Everything now depended upon the
greatest circumspection. It was dangerous to discharge a gun, or
light a fire, or make the least noise, where such quick-eared and
quick-sighted enemies were at hand. In the course of the day they
saw indubitable signs that the buffalo had been roaming there in
great numbers, and had recently been frightened away. That night
they encamped with the greatest care; and threw up a strong
breastwork for their protection.  

For the two succeeding days they pressed forward rapidly, but
cautiously, across the great plain; fording the tributary streams
of the Horn River; encamping one night among thickets; the next,
on an island; meeting, repeatedly, with traces of Indians; and
now and then, in passing through a defile, experiencing alarms
that induced them to cock their rifles.  

On the last day of their march hunger got the better of their
caution, and they shot a fine buffalo bull at the risk of being
betrayed by the report. They did not halt to make a meal, but
carried the meat on with them to the place of rendezvous, the
Medicine Lodge, where they arrived safely, in the evening, and
celebrated their arrival by a hearty supper.  

The next morning they erected a strong pen for the horses, and a
fortress of logs for themselves; and continued to observe the
greatest caution. Their cooking was all done at mid-day, when the
fire makes no glare, and a moderate smoke cannot be perceived at
any great distance. In the morning and the evening, when the wind
is lulled, the smoke rises perpendicularly in a blue column, or
floats in light clouds above the tree-tops, and can be discovered
from afar.  

In this way the little party remained for several days,
cautiously encamped, until, on the 29th of August, the two
detachments they had been expecting, arrived together at the
rendezvous. They, as usual, had their several tales of adventures
to relate to the captain, which we will furnish to the reader in
the next chapter.



                              24. 
   Adventures of the party of ten The Balaamite mule  A dead
 point The mysterious elks A night attack  A retreat Travelling
under an alarm A joyful meeting Adventures of the other party A
decoy elk Retreat to an island A savage dance of triumph Arrival
                         at Wind River

THE ADVENTURES of the detachment of ten are the first in order.
These trappers, when they separated from Captain Bonneville at
the place where the furs were embarked, proceeded to the foot of
the Bighorn Mountain, and having encamped, one of them mounted
his mule and went out to set his trap in a neighboring stream. He
had not proceeded far when his steed came to a full stop. The
trapper kicked and cudgelled, but to every blow and kick the mule
snorted and kicked up, but still refused to budge an inch. The
rider now cast his eyes warily around in search of some cause for
this demur, when, to his dismay, he discovered an Indian fort
within gunshot distance, lowering through the twilight. In a
twinkling he wheeled about; his mule now seemed as eager to get
on as himself, and in a few moments brought him, clattering with
his traps, among his comrades. He was jeered at for his alacrity
in retreating; his report was treated as a false alarm; his
brother trappers contented themselves with reconnoitring the fort
at a distance, and pronounced that it was deserted. 

As night set in, the usual precaution, enjoined by Captain
Bonneville on his men, was observed. The horses were brought in
and tied, and a guard stationed over them. This done, the men
wrapped themselves in their blankets, stretched themselves before
the fire, and being fatigued with a long day's march, and gorged
with a hearty supper, were soon in a profound sleep.  

The camp fires gradually died away; all was dark and silent; the
sentinel stationed to watch the horses had marched as far, and
supped as heartily as any of his companions, and while they
snored, he began to nod at his post. After a time, a low
trampling noise reached his ear. He half opened his closing eyes,
and beheld two or three elks moving about the lodges, picking,
and smelling, and grazing here and there. The sight of elk within
the purlieus of the camp caused some little surprise; but having
had his supper, he cared not for elk meat, and, suffering them to
graze about unmolested, soon relapsed into a doze.  

Suddenly, before daybreak, a discharge of firearms, and a
struggle and tramp of horses, made every one start to his feet.
The first move was to secure the horses. Some were gone; others
were struggling, and kicking, and trembling, for there was a
horrible uproar of whoops, and yells, and firearms. Several
trappers stole quietly from the camp, and succeeded in driving in
the horses which had broken away; the rest were tethered still
more strongly. A breastwork was thrown up of saddles, baggage,
and camp furniture, and all hands waited anxiously for daylight.
The Indians, in the meantime, collected on a neighboring height,
kept up the most horrible clamor, in hopes of striking a panic
into the camp, or frightening off the horses. When the day
dawned, the trappers attacked them briskly and drove them to some
distance. A desultory fire was kept up for an hour, when the
Indians, seeing nothing was to be gained, gave up the contest and
retired. They proved to be a war party of Blackfeet, who, while
in search of the Crow tribe, had fallen upon the trail of Captain
Bonneville on the Popo Agie, and dogged him to the Bighorn; but
had been completely baffled by his vigilance. They had then
waylaid the present detachment, and were actually housed in
perfect silence within their fort, when the mule of the trapper
made such a dead point.  

The savages went off uttering the wildest denunciations of
hostility, mingled with opprobrious terms in broken English, and
gesticulations of the most insulting kind.


In this melee, one white man was wounded, and two horses were
killed. On preparing the morning's meal, however, a number of
cups, knives, and other articles were missing, which had,
doubtless, been carried off by the fictitious elk, during the
slumber of the very sagacious sentinel.  
As the Indians had gone off in the direction which the trappers
had intended to travel, the latter changed their route, and
pushed forward rapidly through the "Bad Pass," nor halted until
night; when, supposing themselves out of the reach of the enemy,
they contented themselves with tying up their horses and posting
a guard. They had scarce laid down to sleep, when a dog strayed
into the camp with a small pack of moccasons tied upon his back;
for dogs are made to carry burdens among the Indians. The
sentinel, more knowing than he of the preceding night, awoke his
companions and reported the circumstance. It was evident that
Indians were at hand. All were instantly at work; a strong pen
was soon constructed for the horses, after completing which, they
resumed their slumbers with the composure of men long inured to
dangers.  

In the next night, the prowling of dogs about the camp, and
various suspicious noises, showed that Indians were still
hovering about them. Hurrying on by long marches, they at length
fell upon a trail, which, with the experienced eye of veteran
woodmen, they soon discovered to be that of the party of trappers
detached by Captain Bonneville when on his march, and which they
were sent to join. They likewise ascertained from various signs,
that this party had suffered some maltreatment from the Indians.
They now pursued the trail with intense anxiety; it carried them
to the banks of the stream called the Gray Bull, and down along
its course, until they came to where it empties into the Horn
River. Here, to their great joy, they discovered the comrades of
whom they were in search, all strongly fortified, and in a state
of great watchfulness and anxiety.  

We now take up the adventures of this first detachment of
trappers. These men, after parting with the main body under
Captain Bonneville, had proceeded slowly for several days up the
course of the river, trapping beaver as they went. One morning,
as they were about to visit their traps, one of the camp-keepers
pointed to a fine elk, grazing at a distance, and requested them
to shoot it. Three of the trappers started off for the purpose.
In passing a thicket, they were fired upon by some savages in
ambush, and at the same time, the pretended elk, throwing off his
hide and his horn, started forth an Indian warrior.  

One of the three trappers had been brought down by the volley;
the others fled to the camp, and all hands, seizing up whatever
they could carry off, retreated to a small island in the river,
and took refuge among the willows. Here they were soon joined by
their comrade who had fallen, but who had merely been wounded in
the neck.

In the meantime the Indians took possession of the deserted camp,
with all the traps, accoutrements, and horses. While they were
busy among the spoils, a solitary trapper, who had been absent at
his work, came sauntering to the camp with his traps on his back.
He had approached near by, when an Indian came forward and
motioned him to keep away; at the same moment, he was perceived
by his comrades on the island, and warned of his danger with loud
cries. The poor fellow stood for a moment, bewildered and aghast,
then dropping his traps, wheeled and made off at full speed,
quickened by a sportive volley which the Indians rattled after
him.  

In high good humor with their easy triumph, the savages now
formed a circle round the fire and performed a war dance, with
the unlucky trappers for rueful spectators. This done, emboldened
by what they considered cowardice on the part of the white men,
they neglected their usual mode of bush-fighting, and advanced
openly within twenty paces of the willows. A sharp volley from
the trappers brought them to a sudden halt, and laid three of
them breathless. The chief, who had stationed himself on an
eminence to direct all the movements of his people, seeing three
of his warriors laid low, ordered the rest to retire. They
immediately did so, and the whole band soon disappeared behind a
point of woods, carrying off with them the horses, traps, and the
greater part of the baggage.  

It was just after this misfortune that the party of ten men
discovered this forlorn band of trappers in a fortress, which
they had thrown up after their disaster. They were so perfectly
dismayed, that they could not be induced even to go in quest of
their traps, which they had set in a neighboring stream. The two
parties now joined their forces, and made their way, without
further misfortune, to the rendezvous.  

Captain Bonneville perceived from the reports of these parties,
as well as from what he had observed himself in his recent march,
that he was in a neighborhood teeming with danger. Two wandering
Snake Indians, also, who visited the camp, assured him that there
were two large bands of Crows marching rapidly upon him. He broke
up his encampment, therefore, on the 1st of September, made his
way to the south, across the Littlehorn Mountain, until he
reached Wind River, and then turning westward, moved slowly up
the banks of that stream, giving time for his men to trap as he
proceeded. As it was not in the plan of the present hunting
campaigns to go near the caches on Green River, and as the
trappers were in want of traps to replace those they had lost,
Captain Bonneville undertook to visit the caches, and procure a
supply. To accompany him in this hazardous expedition, which
would take him through the defiles of the Wind River Mountains,
and up the Green River valley, he took but three men; the main
party were to continue on trapping up toward the head of Wind
River, near which he was to rejoin them, just about the place
where that stream issues from the mountains. We shall accompany
the captain on his adventurous errand.



                              25. 
 Captain Bonneville sets out for Green River valley  Journey up
 the Popo Agie Buffaloes The staring white bears The smoke The
                         warm springs  
     Attempt to traverse the Wind River Mountains The Great
Slope Mountain dells and chasms Crystal lakes Ascent of a snowy
peak Sublime prospect  A panorama "Les dignes de pitie," or wild
                      men of the mountains

HAVING FORDED WIND RIVER a little above its mouth, Captain
Bonneville and his three companions proceeded across a gravelly
plain, until they fell upon the Popo Agie, up the left bank of
which they held their course, nearly in a southerly direction.
Here they came upon numerous droves of buffalo, and halted for
the purpose of procuring a supply of beef. As the hunters were
stealing cautiously to get within shot of the game, two small
white bears suddenly presented themselves in their path, and,
rising upon their hind legs, contemplated them for some time with
a whimsically solemn gaze. The hunters remained motionless;
whereupon the bears, having apparently satisfied their curiosity,
lowered themselves upon all fours, and began to withdraw. The
hunters now advanced, upon which the bears turned, rose again
upon their haunches, and repeated their serio-comic examination.
This was repeated several times, until the hunters, piqued at
their unmannerly staring, rebuked it with a discharge of their
rifles. The bears made an awkward bound or two, as if wounded,
and then walked off with great gravity, seeming to commune
together, and every now and then turning to take another look at
the hunters. It was well for the latter that the bears were but
half grown, and had not yet acquired the ferocity of their kind.

The buffalo were somewhat startled at the report of the firearms;
but the hunters succeeded in killing a couple of fine cows, and,
having secured the best of the meat, continued forward until some
time after dark, when, encamping in a large thicket of willows,
they made a great fire, roasted buffalo beef enough for half a
score, disposed of the whole of it with keen relish and high
glee, and then "turned in" for the night and slept soundly, like
weary and well fed hunters.

At daylight they were in the saddle again, and skirted along the
river, passing through fresh grassy meadows, and a succession of
beautiful groves of willows and cotton-wood. Toward evening,
Captain Bonneville observed a smoke at a distance rising from
among hills, directly in the route he was pursuing. Apprehensive
of some hostile band, he concealed the horses in a thicket, and,
accompanied by one of his men, crawled cautiously up a height,
from which he could overlook the scene of danger. Here, with a
spy-glass, he reconnoitred the surrounding country, but not a
lodge nor fire, not a man, horse, nor dog, was to be discovered;
in short, the smoke which had caused such alarm proved to be the
vapor from several warm, or rather hot springs of considerable
magnitude, pouring forth streams in every direction over a bottom
of white clay. One of the springs was about twenty-five yards in
diameter, and so deep that the water was of a bright green color.

They were now advancing diagonally upon the chain of Wind River
Mountains, which lay between them and Green River valley. To
coast round their southern points would be a wide circuit;
whereas, could they force their way through them, they might
proceed in a straight line. The mountains were lofty, with snowy
peaks and cragged sides; it was hoped, however, that some
practicable defile might be found. They attempted, accordingly,
to penetrate the mountains by following up one of the branches of
the Popo Agie, but soon found themselves in the midst of
stupendous crags and precipices that barred all progress.
Retracing their steps, and falling back upon the river, they
consulted where to make another attempt. They were too close
beneath the mountains to scan them generally, but they now
recollected having noticed, from the plain, a beautiful slope
rising, at an angle of about thirty degrees, and apparently
without any break, until it reached the snowy region. Seeking
this gentle acclivity, they began to ascend it with alacrity,
trusting to find at the top one of those elevated plains which
prevail among the Rocky Mountains. The slope was covered with
coarse gravel, interspersed with plates of freestone. They
attained the summit with some toil, but found, instead of a
level, or rather undulating plain, that they were on the brink of
a deep and precipitous ravine, from the bottom of which rose a
second slope, similar to the one they had just ascended. Down
into this profound ravine they made their way by a rugged path,
or rather fissure of the rocks, and then labored up the second
slope. They gained the summit only to find themselves on another
ravine, and now perceived that this vast mountain, which had
presented such a sloping and even side to the distant beholder on
the plain, was shagged by frightful precipices, and seamed with
longitudinal chasms, deep and dangerous.

In one of these wild dells they passed the night, and slept
soundly and sweetly after their fatigues. Two days more of
arduous climbing and scrambling only served to admit them into
the heart of this mountainous and awful solitude; where
difficulties increased as they proceeded. Sometimes they
scrambled from rock to rock, up the bed of some mountain stream,
dashing its bright way down to the plains; sometimes they availed
themselves of the paths made by the deer and the mountain sheep,
which, however, often took them to the brinks of fearful
precipices, or led to rugged defiles, impassable for their
horses. At one place, they were obliged to slide their horses
down the face of a rock, in which attempt some of the poor
animals lost their footing, rolled to the bottom, and came near
being dashed to pieces.

In the afternoon of the second day, the travellers attained one
of the elevated valleys locked up in this singular bed of
mountains. Here were two bright and beautiful little lakes, set
like mirrors in the midst of stern and rocky heights, and
surrounded by grassy meadows, inexpressibly refreshing to the
eye. These probably were among the sources of those mighty
streams which take their rise among these mountains, and wander
hundreds of miles through the plains.

In the green pastures bordering upon these lakes, the travellers
halted to repose, and to give their weary horses time to crop the
sweet and tender herbage. They had now ascended to a great height
above the level of the plains, yet they beheld huge crags of
granite piled one upon another, and beetling like battlements far
above them. While two of the men remained in the camp with the
horses, Captain Bonneville, accompanied by the other men [man],
set out to climb a neighboring height, hoping to gain a
commanding prospect, and discern some practicable route through
this stupendous labyrinth. After much toil, he reached the summit
of a lofty cliff, but it was only to behold gigantic peaks rising
all around, and towering far into the snowy regions of the
atmosphere. Selecting one which appeared to be the highest, he
crossed a narrow intervening valley, and began to scale it. He
soon found that he had undertaken a tremendous task; but the
pride of man is never more obstinate than when climbing
mountains. The ascent was so steep and rugged that he and his
companion were frequently obliged to clamber on hands and knees,
with their guns slung upon their backs. Frequently, exhausted
with fatigue, and dripping with perspiration, they threw
themselves upon the snow, and took handfuls of it to allay their
parching thirst. At one place, they even stripped off their coats
and hung them upon the bushes, and thus lightly clad, proceeded
to scramble over these eternal snows. As they ascended still
higher, there were cool breezes that refreshed and braced them,
and springing with new ardor to their task, they at length
attained the summit.

Here a scene burst upon the view of Captain Bonneville, that for
a time astonished and overwhelmed him with its immensity. He
stood, in fact, upon that dividing ridge which Indians regard as
the crest of the world; and on each side of which, the landscape
may be said to decline to the two cardinal oceans of the globe.
Whichever way he turned his eye, it was confounded by the
vastness and variety of objects. Beneath him, the Rocky Mountains
seemed to open all their secret recesses: deep, solemn valleys;
treasured lakes; dreary passes; rugged defiles, and foaming
torrents; while beyond their savage precincts, the eye was lost
in an almost immeasurable landscape; stretching on every side
into dim and hazy distance, like the expanse of a summer's sea.
Whichever way he looked, he beheld vast plains glimmering with
reflected sunshine; mighty streams wandering on their shining
course toward either ocean, and snowy mountains, chain beyond
chain, and peak beyond peak, till they melted like clouds into
the horizon. For a time, the Indian fable seemed realized: he had
attained that height from which the Blackfoot warrior, after
death, first catches a view of the land of souls, and beholds the
happy hunting grounds spread out below him, brightening with the
abodes of the free and generous spirits. The captain stood for a
long while gazing upon this scene, lost in a crowd of vague and
indefinite ideas and sensations. A long-drawn inspiration at
length relieved him from this enthralment of the mind, and he
began to analyze the parts of this vast panorama. A simple
enumeration of a few of its features may give some idea of its
collective grandeur and magnificence.

The peak on which the captain had taken his stand commanded the
whole Wind River chain; which, in fact, may rather be considered
one immense mountain, broken into snowy peaks and lateral spurs,
and seamed with narrow valleys. Some of these valleys glittered
with silver lakes and gushing streams; the fountain heads, as it
were, of the mighty tributaries to the Atlantic and Pacific
Oceans. Beyond the snowy peaks, to the south, and far, far below
the mountain range, the gentle river, called the Sweet Water, was
seen pursuing its tranquil way through the rugged regions of the
Black Hills. In the east, the head waters of Wind River wandered
through a plain, until, mingling in one powerful current, they
forced their way through the range of Horn Mountains, and were
lost to view. To the north were caught glimpses of the upper
streams of the Yellowstone, that great tributary of the Missouri.
In another direction were to be seen some of the sources of the
Oregon, or Columbia, flowing to the northwest, past those
towering landmarks the Three Tetons, and pouring down into the
great lava plain; while, almost at the captain's feet, the Green
River, or Colorado of the West, set forth on its wandering
pilgrimage to the Gulf of California; at first a mere mountain
torrent, dashing northward over a crag and precipice, in a
succession of cascades, and tumbling into the plain where,
expanding into an ample river, it circled away to the south, and
after alternately shining out and disappearing in the mazes of
the vast landscape, was finally lost in a horizon of mountains.
The day was calm and cloudless, and the atmosphere so pure that
objects were discernible at an astonishing distance. The whole of
this immense area was inclosed by an outer range of shadowy
peaks, some of them faintly marked on the horizon, which seemed
to wall it in from the rest of the earth.

It is to be regretted that Captain Bonneville had no instruments
with him with which to ascertain the altitude of this peak. He
gives it as his opinion that it is the loftiest point of the
North American continent; but of this we have no satisfactory
proof. It is certain that the Rocky Mountains are of an altitude
vastly superior to what was formerly supposed. We rather incline
to the opinion that the highest peak is further to the northward,
and is the same measured by Mr. Thompson, surveyor to the
Northwest Company; who, by the joint means of the barometer and
trigonometric measurement, ascertained it to be twenty-five
thousand feet above the level of the sea; an elevation only
inferior to that of the Himalayas.

For a long time, Captain Bonneville remained gazing around him
with wonder and enthusiasm; at length the chill and wintry winds,
whirling about the snow-clad height, admonished him to descend.
He soon regained the spot where he and his companions [companion]
had thrown off their coats, which were now gladly resumed, and,
retracing their course down the peak, they safely rejoined their
companions on the border of the lake.

Notwithstanding the savage and almost inaccessible nature of
these mountains, they have their inhabitants. As one of the party
was out hunting, he came upon the solitary track of a man in a
lonely valley. Following it up, he reached the brow of a cliff,
whence he beheld three savages running across the valley below
him. He fired his gun to call their attention, hoping to induce
them to turn back. They only fled the faster, and disappeared
among the rocks. The hunter returned and reported what he had
seen. Captain Bonneville at once concluded that these belonged to
a kind of hermit race, scanty in number, that inhabit the highest
and most inaccessible fastnesses. They speak the Shoshonie
language, and probably are offsets from that tribe, though they
have peculiarities of their own, which distinguish them from all
other Indians. They are miserably poor; own no horses, and are
destitute of every convenience to be derived from an intercourse
with the whites. Their weapons are bows and stone-pointed arrows,
with which they hunt the deer, the elk, and the mountain sheep.
They are to be found scattered about the countries of the
Shoshonie, Flathead, Crow, and Blackfeet tribes; but their
residences are always in lonely places, and the clefts of the
rocks.

Their footsteps are often seen by the trappers in the high and
solitary valleys among the mountains, and the smokes of their
fires descried among the precipices, but they themselves are
rarely met with, and still more rarely brought to a parley, so
great is their shyness, and their dread of strangers.

As their poverty offers no temptation to the marauder, and as
they are inoffensive in their habits, they are never the objects
of warfare: should one of them, however, fall into the hands of a
war party, he is sure to be made a sacrifice, for the sake of
that savage trophy, a scalp, and that barbarous ceremony, a scalp
dance. These forlorn beings, forming a mere link between human
nature and the brute, have been looked down upon with pity and
contempt by the creole trappers, who have given them the
appellation of "les dignes de pitie," or "the objects of pity.";
They appear more worthy to be called the wild men of the
mountains.


                              26. 
                                
     A retrogade move Channel of a mountain torrent  Alpine
     scenery Cascades Beaver valleys Beavers at work Their
   architecture Their modes of felling trees Mode of trapping
 beaver Contests of skill  A beaver "up to trap" Arrival at the
                       Green River caches

THE VIEW from the snowy peak of the Wind River Mountains, while
it had excited Captain Bonneville's enthusiasm, had satisfied him
that it would be useless to force a passage westward, through
multiplying barriers of cliffs and precipices. Turning his face
eastward, therefore, he endeavored to regain the plains,
intending to make the circuit round the southern point of the
mountain. To descend, and to extricate himself from the heart of
this rock-piled wilderness, was almost as difficult as to
penetrate it. Taking his course down the ravine of a tumbling
stream, the commencement of some future river, he descended from
rock to rock, and shelf to shelf, between stupendous cliffs and
beetling crags that sprang up to the sky. Often he had to cross
and recross the rushing torrent, as it wound foaming and roaring
down its broken channel, or was walled by perpendicular
precipices; and imminent was the hazard of breaking the legs of
the horses in the clefts and fissures of slippery rocks. The
whole scenery of this deep ravine was of Alpine wildness and
sublimity. Sometimes the travellers passed beneath cascades which
pitched from such lofty heights that the water fell into the
stream like heavy rain. In other places, torrents came tumbling
from crag to crag, dashing into foam and spray, and making
tremendous din and uproar.

On the second day of their descent, the travellers, having got
beyond the steepest pitch of the mountains, came to where the
deep and rugged ravine began occasionally to expand into small
levels or valleys, and the stream to assume for short intervals a
more peaceful character. Here, not merely the river itself, but
every rivulet flowing into it, was dammed up by communities of
industrious beavers, so as to inundate the neighborhood, and make
continual swamps.

During a mid-day halt in one of these beaver valleys, Captain
Bonneville left his companions, and strolled down the course of
the stream to reconnoitre. He had not proceeded far when he came
to a beaver pond, and caught a glimpse of one of its painstaking
inhabitants busily at work upon the dam. The curiosity of the
captain was aroused, to behold the mode of operating of this
far-famed architect; he moved forward, therefore, with the utmost
caution, parting the branches of the water willows without making
any noise, until having attained a position commanding a view of
the whole pond, he stretched himself flat on the ground, and
watched the solitary workman. In a little while, three others
appeared at the head of the dam, bringing sticks and bushes. With
these they proceeded directly to the barrier, which Captain
Bonneville perceived was in need of repair. Having deposited
their loads upon the broken part, they dived into the water, and
shortly reappeared at the surface. Each now brought a quantity of
mud, with which he would plaster the sticks and bushes just
deposited. This kind of masonry was continued for some time,
repeated supplies of wood and mud being brought, and treated in
the same manner. This done, the industrious beavers indulged in a
little recreation, chasing each other about the pond, dodging and
whisking about on the surface, or diving to the bottom; and in
their frolic, often slapping their tails on the water with a loud
clacking sound. While they were thus amusing themselves, another
of the fraternity made his appearance, and looked gravely on
their sports for some time, without offering to join in them. He
then climbed the bank close to where the captain was concealed,
and, rearing himself on his hind quarters, in a sitting position,
put his forepaws against a young pine tree, and began to cut the
bark with his teeth. At times he would tear off a small piece,
and holding it between his paws, and retaining his sedentary
position, would feed himself with it, after the fashion of a
monkey. The object of the beaver, however, was evidently to cut
down the tree; and he was proceeding with his work, when he was
alarmed by the approach of Captain Bonneville's men, who, feeling
anxious at the protracted absence of their leader, were coming in
search of him. At the sound of their voices, all the beavers,
busy as well as idle, dived at once beneath the surface, and were
no more to be seen. Captain Bonneville regretted this
interruption. He had heard much of the sagacity of the beaver in
cutting down trees, in which, it is said, they manage to make
them fall into the water, and in such a position and direction as
may be most favorable for conveyance to the desired point. In the
present instance, the tree was a tall straight pine, and as it
grew perpendicularly, and there was not a breath of air stirring
the beaver could have felled it in any direction he pleased, if
really capable of exercising a discretion in the matter. He was
evidently engaged in "belting" the tree, and his first incision
had been on the side nearest to the water.

Captain Bonneville, however, discredits, on the whole, the
alleged sagacity of the beaver in this particular, and thinks the
animal has no other aim than to get the tree down, without any of
the subtle calculation as to its mode or direction of falling.
This attribute, he thinks, has been ascribed to them from the
circumstance that most trees growing near water-courses, either
lean bodily toward the stream, or stretch their largest limbs in
that direction, to benefit by the space, the light, and the air
to be found there. The beaver, of course, attacks those trees
which are nearest at hand, and on the banks of the stream or
pond. He makes incisions round them, or in technical phrase,
belts them with his teeth, and when they fall, they naturally
take the direction in which their trunks or branches
preponderate.

"I have often," says Captain Bonneville, "seen trees measuring
eighteen inches in diameter, at the places where they had been
cut through by the beaver, but they lay in all directions, and
often very inconveniently for the after purposes of the animal.
In fact, so little ingenuity do they at times display in this
particular, that at one of our camps on Snake River, a beaver was
found with his head wedged into the cut which he had made, the
tree having fallen upon him and held him prisoner until he died."

Great choice, according to the captain, is certainly displayed by
the beaver in selecting the wood which is to furnish bark for
winter provision. The whole beaver household, old and young, set
out upon this business, and will often make long journeys before
they are suited. Sometimes they cut down trees of the largest
size and then cull the branches, the bark of which is most to
their taste. These they cut into lengths of about three feet,
convey them to the water, and float them to their lodges, where
they are stored away for winter. They are studious of cleanliness
and comfort in their lodges, and after their repasts, will carry
out the sticks from which they have eaten the bark, and throw
them into the current beyond the barrier. They are jealous, too,
of their territories, and extremely pugnacious, never permitting
a strange beaver to enter their premises, and often fighting with
such virulence as almost to tear each other to pieces. In the
spring, which is the breeding season, the male leaves the female
at home, and sets off on a tour of pleasure, rambling often to a
great distance, recreating himself in every clear and quiet
expanse of water on his way, and climbing the banks occasionally
to feast upon the tender sprouts of the young willows. As summer
advances, he gives up his bachelor rambles, and bethinking
himself of housekeeping duties, returns home to his mate and his
new progeny, and marshals them all for the foraging expedition in
quest of winter provisions.

After having shown the public spirit of this praiseworthy little
animal as a member of a community, and his amiable and exemplary
conduct as the father of a family, we grieve to record the perils
with which he is environed, and the snares set for him and his
painstaking household.

Practice, says Captain Bonneville, has given such a quickness of
eye to the experienced trapper in all that relates to his
pursuit, that he can detect the slightest sign of beaver, however
wild; and although the lodge may be concealed by close thickets
and overhanging willows, he can generally, at a single glance,
make an accurate guess at the number of its inmates. He now goes
to work to set his trap; planting it upon the shore, in some
chosen place, two or three inches below the surface of the water,
and secures it by a chain to a pole set deep in the mud. A small
twig is then stripped of its bark, and one end is dipped in the
"medicine," as the trappers term the peculiar bait which they
employ. This end of the stick rises about four inches above the
surface of the water, the other end is planted between the jaws
of the trap. The beaver, possessing an acute sense of smell, is
soon attracted by the odor of the bait. As he raises his nose
toward it, his foot is caught in the trap. In his fright he
throws a somerset into the deep water. The trap, being fastened
to the pole, resists all his efforts to drag it to the shore; the
chain by which it is fastened defies his teeth; he struggles for
a time, and at length sinks to the bottom and is drowned.

Upon rocky bottoms, where it is not possible to plant the pole,
it is thrown into the stream. The beaver, when entrapped, often
gets fastened by the chain to sunken logs or floating timber; if
he gets to shore, he is entangled in the thickets of brook
willows. In such cases, however, it costs the trapper diligent
search, and sometimes a bout at swimming, before he finds his
game.

Occasionally it happens that several members of a beaver family
are trapped in succession. The survivors then become extremely
shy, and can scarcely be "brought to medicine," to use the
trapper's phrase for "taking the bait." In such case, the trapper
gives up the use of the bait, and conceals his traps in the usual
paths and crossing places of the household. The beaver now being
completely "up to trap," approaches them cautiously, and springs
them ingeniously with a stick. At other times, he turns the traps
bottom upwards, by the same means, and occasionally even drags
them to the barrier and conceals them in the mud. The trapper now
gives up the contest of ingenuity, and shouldering his traps,
marches off, admitting that he is not yet "up to beaver."

On the day following Captain Bonneville's supervision of the
industrious and frolicsome community of beavers, of which he has
given so edifying an account, he succeeded in extricating himself
from the Wind River Mountains, and regaining the plain to the
eastward, made a great bend to the south, so as to go round the
bases of the mountains, and arrived without further incident of
importance, at the old place of rendezvous in Green River valley,
on the 17th of September.

He found the caches, in which he had deposited his superfluous
goods and equipments, all safe, and having opened and taken from
them the necessary supplies, he closed them again; taking care to
obliterate all traces that might betray them to the keen eyes of
Indian marauders.



                              27. 
                                
   Route toward Wind River Dangerous neighborhood  Alarms and
     precautions A sham encampment  Apparition of an Indian
       spy Midnight move A mountain defile The Wind River
valley Tracking a party Deserted camps Symptoms of Crows  Meeting
  of comrades A trapper entrapped Crow pleasantry Crow spies A
      decampment Return to Green River valley Meeting with
 Fitzpatrick's party Their adventures among the Crows Orthodox
                             Crows

ON THE 18TH of September, Captain Bonneville and his three
companions set out, bright and early, to rejoin the main party,
from which they had parted on Wind River. Their route lay up the
Green River valley, with that stream on their right hand, and
beyond it, the range of Wind River Mountains. At the head of the
valley, they were to pass through a defile which would bring them
out beyond the northern end of these mountains, to the head of
Wind River; where they expected to meet the main party, according
to arrangement.

We have already adverted to the dangerous nature of this
neighborhood, infested by roving bands of Crows and Blackfeet; to
whom the numerous defiles and passes of the country afford
capital places for ambush and surprise. The travellers,
therefore, kept a vigilant eye upon everything that might give
intimation of lurking danger.

About two hours after mid-day, as they reached the summit of a
hill, they discovered buffalo on the plain below, running in
every direction. One of the men, too, fancied he heard the report
of a gun. It was concluded, therefore, that there was some party
of Indians below, hunting the buffalo.

The horses were immediately concealed in a narrow ravine; and the
captain, mounting an eminence, but concealing himself from view,
reconnoitred the whole neighborhood with a telescope. Not an
Indian was to be seen; so, after halting about an hour, he
resumed his journey. Convinced, however, that he was in a
dangerous neighborhood, he advanced with the utmost caution;
winding his way through hollows and ravines, and avoiding, as
much as possible, any open tract, or rising ground, that might
betray his little party to the watchful eye of an Indian scout.

Arriving, at length, at the edge of the open meadow-land
bordering on the river, he again observed the buffalo, as far as
he could see, scampering in great alarm. Once more concealing the
horses, he and his companions remained for a long time watching
the various groups of the animals, as each caught the panic and
started off; but they sought in vain to discover the cause.

They were now about to enter the mountain defile, at the head of
Green River valley, where they might be waylaid and attacked;
they, therefore, arranged the packs on their horses, in the
manner most secure and convenient for sudden flight, should such
be necessary. This done, they again set forward, keeping the most
anxious look-out in every direction.

It was now drawing toward evening; but they could not think of
encamping for the night, in a place so full of danger. Captain
Bonneville, therefore, determined to halt about sunset, kindle a
fire, as if for encampment, cook and eat supper; but, as soon as
it was sufficiently dark, to make a rapid move for the summit of
the mountain, and seek some secluded spot for their night's
lodgings.

Accordingly, as the sun went down, the little party came to a
halt, made a large fire, spitted their buffalo meat on wooden
sticks, and, when sufficiently roasted, planted the savory viands
before them; cutting off huge slices with their hunting knives,
and supping with a hunter's appetite. The light of their fire
would not fail, as they knew, to attract the attention of any
Indian horde in the neighborhood; but they trusted to be off and
away, before any prowlers could reach the place. While they were
supping thus hastily, however, one of their party suddenly
started up and shouted "Indians! " All were instantly on their
feet, with their rifles in their hands; but could see no enemy.
The man, however, declared that he had seen an Indian advancing,
cautiously, along the trail which they had made in coming to the
encampment; who, the moment he was perceived, had thrown himself
on the ground, and disappeared. He urged Captain Bonneville
instantly to decamp. The captain, however, took the matter more
coolly. The single fact, that the Indian had endeavored to hide
himself, convinced him that he was not one of a party, on the
advance to make an attack. He was, probably, some scout, who had
followed up their trail, until he came in sight of their fire. He
would, in such case, return, and report what he had seen to his
companions. These, supposing the white men had encamped for the
night, would keep aloof until very late, when all should be
asleep. They would, then, according to Indian tactics, make their
stealthy approaches, and place themselves in ambush around,
preparatory to their attack, at the usual hour of daylight.

Such was Captain Bonneville's conclusion; in consequence of
which, he counselled his men to keep perfectly quiet, and act as
if free from all alarm, until the proper time arrived for a move.
They, accordingly, continued their repast with pretended appetite
and jollity; and then trimmed and replenished their fire, as if
for a bivouac. As soon, however, as the night had completely set
in, they left their fire blazing; walked quietly among the
willows, and then leaping into their saddles, made off as
noiselessly as possible. In proportion as they left the point of
danger behind them, they relaxed in their rigid and anxious
taciturnity, and began to joke at the expense of their enemy;
whom they pictured to themselves mousing in the neighborhood of
their deserted fire, waiting for the proper time of attack, and
preparing for a grand disappointment.

About midnight, feeling satisfied that they had gained a secure
distance, they posted one of their number to keep watch, in case
the enemy should follow on their trail, and then, turning
abruptly into a dense and matted thicket of willows, halted for
the night at the foot of the mountain, instead of making for the
summit, as they had originally intended.

A trapper in the wilderness, like a sailor on the ocean, snatches
morsels of enjoyment in the midst of trouble, and sleeps soundly
when surrounded by danger. The little party now made their
arrangements for sleep with perfect calmness; they did not
venture to make a fire and cook, it is true, though generally
done by hunters whenever they come to a halt, and have
provisions. They comforted themselves, however, by smoking a
tranquil pipe; and then calling in the watch, and turning loose
the horses, stretched themselves on their pallets, agreed that
whoever should first awake, should rouse the rest, and in a
little while were all as sound asleep as though in the midst of a
fortress.

A little before day, they were all on the alert; it was the hour
for Indian maraud. A sentinel was immediately detached, to post
himself at a little distance on their trail, and give the alarm,
should he see or hear an enemy.

With the first blink of dawn, the rest sought the horses; brought
them to the camp, and tied them up, until an hour after sunrise;
when, the sentinel having reported that all was well, they sprang
once more into their saddles, and pursued the most covert and
secret paths up the mountain, avoiding the direct route.

At noon, they halted and made a hasty repast; and then bent their
course so as to regain the route from which they had diverged.
They were now made sensible of the danger from which they had
just escaped. There were tracks of Indians, who had evidently
been in pursuit of them; but had recently returned, baffled in
their search.

Trusting that they had now got a fair start, and could not be
overtaken before night, even in case the Indians should renew the
chase, they pushed briskly forward, and did not encamp until
late; when they cautiously concealed themselves in a secure nook
of the mountains.

Without any further alarm, they made their way to the head waters
of Wind River, and reached the neighborhood in which they had
appointed the rendezvous with their companions. It was within the
precincts of the Crow country; the Wind River valley being one of
the favorite haunts of that restless tribe. After much searching,
Captain Bonneville came upon a trail which had evidently been
made by his main party. It was so old, however, that he feared
his people might have left the neighborhood; driven off, perhaps
by some of those war parties which were on the prowl. He
continued his search with great anxiety, and no little fatigue;
for his horses were jaded, and almost crippled, by their forced
marches and scramblings through rocky defiles.

On the following day, about noon, Captain Bonneville came upon a
deserted camp of his people, from which they had, evidently,
turned back; but he could find no signs to indicate why they had
done so; whether they had met with misfortune, or molestation, or
in what direction they had gone. He was now, more than ever,
perplexed.

On the following day, he resumed his march with increasing
anxiety. The feet of his horses had by this time become so worn
and wounded by the rocks, that he had to make moccasons for them
of buffalo hide. About noon, he came to another deserted camp of
his men; but soon after lost their trail. After great search, he
once more found it, turning in a southerly direction along the
eastern bases of the Wind River Mountains, which towered to the
right. He now pushed forward with all possible speed, in hopes of
overtaking the party. At night, he slept at another of their
camps, from which they had but recently departed. When the day
dawned sufficiently to distinguish objects, he perceived the
danger that must be dogging the heels of his main party. All
about the camp were traces of Indians who must have been prowling
about it at the time his people had passed the night there; and
who must still be hovering about them. Convinced, now, that the
main party could not be at any great distance, he mounted a scout
on the best horse, and sent him forward to overtake them, to warn
them of their danger, and to order them to halt, until he should
rejoin them.

In the afternoon, to his great joy, he met the scout returning,
with six comrades from the main party, leading fresh horses for
his accommodation; and on the following day (September 25th), all
hands were once more reunited, after a separation of nearly three
weeks. Their meeting was hearty and joyous; for they had both
experienced dangers and perplexities.

The main party, in pursuing their course up the Wind River
valley, had been dogged the whole way by a war party of Crows. In
one place, they had been fired upon, but without injury; in
another place, one of their horses had been cut loose, and
carried off. At length, they were so closely beset, that they
were obliged to make a retrogade move, lest they should be
surprised and overcome. This was the movement which had caused
such perplexity to Captain Bonneville.

The whole party now remained encamped for two or three days, to
give repose to both men and horses. Some of the trappers,
however, pursued their vocations about the neighboring streams.
While one of them was setting his traps, he heard the tramp of
horses, and looking up, beheld a party of Crow braves moving
along at no great distance, with a considerable cavalcade. The
trapper hastened to conceal himself, but was discerned by the
quick eye of the savages. With whoops and yells, they dragged him
from his hiding-place, flourished over his head their tomahawks
and scalping-knives, and for a time, the poor trapper gave
himself up for lost. Fortunately, the Crows were in a jocose,
rather than a sanguinary mood. They amused themselves heartily,
for a while, at the expense of his terrors; and after having
played off divers Crow pranks and pleasantries, suffered him to
depart unharmed. It is true, they stripped him completely, one
taking his horse, another his gun, a third his traps, a fourth
his blanket, and so on, through all his accoutrements, and even
his clothing, until he was stark naked; but then they generously
made him a present of an old tattered buffalo robe, and dismissed
him, with many complimentary speeches, and much laughter. When
the trapper returned to the camp, in such sorry plight, he was
greeted with peals of laughter from his comrades and seemed more
mortified by the style in which he had been dismissed, than
rejoiced at escaping with his life. A circumstance which he
related to Captain Bonneville, gave some insight into the cause
of this extreme jocularity on the part of the Crows. They had
evidently had a run of luck, and, like winning gamblers, were in
high good humor. Among twenty-six fine horses, and some mules,
which composed their cavalcade, the trapper recognized a number
which had belonged to Fitzpatrick's brigade, when they parted
company on the Bighorn. It was supposed, therefore, that these
vagabonds had been on his trail, and robbed him of part of his
cavalry.

On the day following this affair, three Crows came into Captain
Bonneville's camp, with the most easy, innocent, if not impudent
air imaginable; walking about with the imperturbable coolness and
unconcern, in which the Indian rivals the fine gentleman. As they
had not been of the set which stripped the trapper, though
evidently of the same band, they were not molested. Indeed,
Captain Bonneville treated them with his usual kindness and
hospitality; permitting them to remain all day in the camp, and
even to pass the night there. At the same time, however, he
caused a strict watch to be maintained on all their movements;
and at night, stationed an armed sentinel near them. The Crows
remonstrated against the latter being armed. This only made the
captain suspect them to be spies, who meditated treachery; he
redoubled, therefore, his precautions. At the same time, he
assured his guests, that while they were perfectly welcome to the
shelter and comfort of his camp, yet, should any of their tribe
venture to approach during the night, they would certainly be
shot; which would be a very unfortunate circumstance, and much to
be deplored. To the latter remark, they fully assented; and
shortly afterward commenced a wild song, or chant, which they
kept up for a long time, and in which they very probably gave
their friends, who might be prowling round the camp, notice that
the white men were on the alert. The night passed away without
disturbance. In the morning, the three Crow guests were very
pressing that Captain Bonneville and his party should accompany
them to their camp, which they said was close by. Instead of
accepting their invitation, Captain Bonneville took his departure
with all possible dispatch, eager to be out of the vicinity of
such a piratical horde; nor did he relax the diligence of his
march, until, on the second day, he reached the banks of the
Sweet Water, beyond the limits of the Crow country, and a heavy
fall of snow had obliterated all traces of his course.

He now continued on for some few days, at a slower pace, round
the point of the mountain toward Green River, and arrived once
more at the caches, on the 14th of October.

Here they found traces of the band of Indians who had hunted them
in the defile toward the head waters of Wind River. Having lost
all trace of them on their way over the mountains, they had
turned and followed back their trail down the Green River valley
to the caches. One of these they had discovered and broken open,
but it fortunately contained nothing but fragments of old iron,
which they had scattered about in all directions, and then
departed. In examining their deserted camp, Captain Bonneville
discovered that it numbered thirty-nine fires, and had more
reason than ever to congratulate himself on having escaped the
clutches of such a formidable band of freebooters.

He now turned his course southward, under cover of the mountains,
and on the 25th of October reached Liberge's Ford, a tributary of
the Colorado, where he came suddenly upon the trail of this same
war party, which had crossed the stream so recently that the
banks were yet wet with the water that had been splashed upon
them. To judge from their tracks, they could not be less than
three hundred warriors, and apparently of the Crow nation.

Captain Bonneville was extremely uneasy lest this overpowering
force should come upon him in some place where he would not have
the means of fortifying himself promptly. He now moved toward
Hane's Fork, another tributary of the Colorado, where he
encamped, and remained during the 26th of October. Seeing a large
cloud of smoke to the south, he supposed it to arise from some
encampment of Shoshonies, and sent scouts to procure information,
and to purchase a lodge. It was, in fact, a band of Shoshonies,
but with them were encamped Fitzpatrick and his party of
trappers. That active leader had an eventful story to relate of
his fortunes in the country of the Crows. After parting with
Captain Bonneville on the banks of the Bighorn, he made for the
west, to trap upon Powder and Tongue Rivers. He had between
twenty and thirty men with him, and about one hundred horses. So
large a cavalcade could not pass through the Crow country without
attracting the attention of its freebooting hordes. A large band
of Crows was soon on their traces, and came up with them on the
5th of September, just as they had reached Tongue River. The Crow
chief came forward with great appearance of friendship, and
proposed to Fitzpatrick that they should encamp together. The
latter, however, not having any faith in Crows, declined the
invitation, and pitched his camp three miles off. He then rode
over with two or three men, to visit the Crow chief, by whom he
was received with great apparent cordiality. In the meantime,
however, a party of young braves, who considered them absolved by
his distrust from all scruples of honor, made a circuit
privately, and dashed into his encampment. Captain Stewart, who
had remained there in the absence of Fitzpatrick, behaved with
great spirit; but the Crows were too numerous and active. They
had got possession of the camp, and soon made booty of every
thing --carrying off all the horses. On their way back they met
Fitzpatrick returning to his camp; and finished their exploit by
rifling and nearly stripping him.

A negotiation now took place between the plundered white men and
the triumphant Crows; what eloquence and management Fitzpatrick
made use of, we do not know, but he succeeded in prevailing upon
the Crow chieftain to return him his horses and many of his
traps; together with his rifles and a few rounds of ammunition
for each man. He then set out with all speed to abandon the Crow
country, before he should meet with any fresh disasters.

After his departure, the consciences of some of the most orthodox
Crows pricked them sorely for having suffered such a cavalcade to
escape out of their hands. Anxious to wipe off so foul a stigma
on the reputation of the Crow nation, they followed on his trial,
nor quit hovering about him on his march until they had stolen a
number of his best horses and mules. It was, doubtless, this same
band which came upon the lonely trapper on the Popo Agie, and
generously gave him an old buffalo robe in exchange for his
rifle, his traps, and all his accoutrements. With these
anecdotes, we shall, for  present, take our leave of the Crow
country and its vagabond chivalry.



                              28. 
  A region of natural curiosities The plain of white clay Hot
springs The Beer Spring Departure to seek the free trappers Plain
of Portneuf Lava  Chasms and gullies Bannack Indians Their hunt
 of the buffalo Hunter's feast Trencher heroes  Bullying of an
    absent foe The damp comrade The Indian spy Meeting with
    Hodgkiss His adventures Poordevil Indians Triumph of the
               Bannacks Blackfeet policy in war 

CROSSING AN ELEVATED RIDGE, Captain Bonneville now came upon Bear
River, which, from its source to its entrance into the Great Salt
Lake, describes the figure of a horse-shoe. One of the principal
head waters of this river, although supposed to abound with
beaver, has never been visited by the trapper; rising among
rugged mountains, and being barricadoed [sic] by fallen pine
trees and tremendous precipices.

Proceeding down this river, the party encamped, on the 6th of
November, at the outlet of a lake about thirty miles long, and
from two to three miles in width, completely imbedded in low
ranges of mountains, and connected with Bear River by an
impassable swamp. It is called the Little Lake, to distinguish it
from the great one of salt water.

On the 10th of November, Captain Bonneville visited a place in
the neighborhood which is quite a region of natural curiosities. 
An area of about half a mile square presents a level surface of
white clay or fuller's earth, perfectly spotless, resembling a
great slab of Parian marble, or a sheet of dazzling snow. The
effect is strikingly beautiful at all times: in summer, when it
is surrounded with verdure, or in autumn, when it contrasts its
bright immaculate surface with the withered herbage. Seen from a
distant eminence, it then shines like a mirror, set in the brown
landscape. Around this plain are clustered numerous springs of
various sizes and temperatures. One of them, of scalding heat,
boils furiously and incessantly, rising to the height of two or
three feet. In another place, there is an aperture in the earth,
from which rushes a column of steam that forms a perpetual cloud.
The ground for some distance around sounds hollow, and startles
the solitary trapper, as he hears the tramp of his horse giving
the sound of a muffled drum. He pictures to himself a mysterious
gulf below, a place of hidden fires, and gazes round him with awe
and uneasiness.

The most noted curiosity, however, of this singular region, is
the Beer Spring, of which trappers give wonderful accounts. They
are said to turn aside from their route through the country to
drink of its waters, with as much eagerness as the Arab seeks
some famous well of the desert. Captain Bonneville describes it
as having the taste of beer. His men drank it with avidity, and
in copious draughts. It did not appear to him to possess any
medicinal properties, or to produce any peculiar effects. The
Indians, however, refuse to taste it, and endeavor to persuade
the white men from doing so.

We have heard this also called the Soda Spring, and described as
containing iron and sulphur. It probably possesses some of the
properties of the Ballston water.

The time had now arrived for Captain Bonneville to go in quest of
the party of free trappers, detached in the beginning of July,
under the command of Mr. Hodgkiss, to trap upon the head waters
of Salmon River. His intention was to unite them with the party
with which he was at present travelling, that all might go into
quarters together for the winter. Accordingly, on the 11th of
November, he took a temporary leave of his band, appointing a
rendezvous on Snake River, and, accompanied by three men, set out
upon his journey. His route lay across the plain of the Portneuf,
a tributary stream of Snake River, called after an unfortunate
Canadian trapper murdered by the Indians. The whole country
through which he passed bore evidence of volcanic convulsions and
conflagrations in the olden time. Great masses of lava lay
scattered about in every direction; the crags and cliffs had
apparently been under the action of fire; the rocks in some
places seemed to have been in a state of fusion; the plain was
rent and split with deep chasms and gullies, some of which were
partly filled with lava.

They had not proceeded far, however, before they saw a party of
horsemen, galloping full tilt toward them. They instantly turned,
and made full speed for the covert of a woody stream, to fortify
themselves among the trees. The Indians came to a halt, and one
of them came forward alone. He reached Captain Bonneville and his
men just as they were dismounting and about to post themselves. A
few words dispelled all uneasiness. It was a party of twenty-five
Bannack Indians, friendly to the whites, and they proposed,
through their envoy, that both parties should encamp together,
and hunt the buffalo, of which they had discovered several large
herds hard by. Captain Bonneville cheerfully assented to their
proposition, being curious to see their manner of hunting.

Both parties accordingly encamped together on a convenient spot,
and prepared for the hunt. The Indians first posted a boy on a
small hill near the camp, to keep a look-out for enemies. The
"runners," then, as they are called, mounted on fleet horses, and
armed with bows and arrows, moved slowly and cautiously toward
the buffalo, keeping as much as possible out of sight, in hollows
and ravines. When within a proper distance, a signal was given,
and they all opened at once like a pack of hounds, with a full
chorus of yells, dashing into the midst of the herds, and
launching their arrows to the right and left. The plain seemed
absolutely to shake under the tramp of the buffalo, as they
scoured off. The cows in headlong panic, the bulls furious with
rage, uttering deep roars, and occasionally turning with a
desperate rush upon their pursuers. Nothing could surpass the
spirit, grace, and dexterity, with which the Indians managed
their horses; wheeling and coursing among the affrighted herd,
and launching their arrows with unerring aim. In the midst of the
apparent confusion, they selected their victims with perfect
judgment, generally aiming at the fattest of the cows, the flesh
of the bull being nearly worthless, at this season of the year.
In a few minutes, each of the hunters had crippled three or four
cows. A single shot was sufficient for the purpose, and the
animal, once maimed, was left to be completely dispatched at the
end of the chase. Frequently, a cow was killed on the spot by a
single arrow. In one instance, Captain Bonneville saw an Indian
shoot his arrow completely through the body of a cow, so that it
struck in the ground beyond. The bulls, however, are not so
easily killed as the cows, and always cost the hunter several
arrows; sometimes making battle upon the horses, and chasing them
furiously, though severely wounded, with the darts still sticking
in their flesh.

The grand scamper of the hunt being over, the Indians proceeded
to dispatch the animals that had been disabled; then cutting up
the carcasses, they returned with loads of meat to the camp,
where the choicest pieces were soon roasting before large fires,
and a hunters' feast succeeded; at which Captain Bonneville and
his men were qualified, by previous fasting, to perform their
parts with great vigor.

Some men are said to wax valorous upon a full stomach, and such
seemed to be the case with the Bannack braves, who, in proportion
as they crammed themselves with buffalo meat, grew stout of
heart, until, the supper at an end, they began to chant war
songs, setting forth their mighty deeds, and the victories they
had gained over the Blackfeet. Warming with the theme, and
inflating themselves with their own eulogies, these magnanimous
heroes of the trencher would start up, advance a short distance
beyond the light of the fire, and apostrophize most vehemently
their Blackfeet enemies, as though they had been within hearing.
Ruffling, and swelling, and snorting, and slapping their breasts,
and brandishing their arms, they would vociferate all their
exploits; reminding the Blackfeet how they had drenched their
towns in tears and blood; enumerate the blows they had inflicted,
the warriors they had slain, the scalps they had brought off in
triumph. Then, having said everything that could stir a man's
spleen or pique his valor, they would dare their imaginary
hearers, now that the Bannacks were few in number, to come and
take their revenge--receiving no reply to this valorous bravado,
they would conclude by all kinds of sneers and insults, deriding
the Blackfeet for dastards and poltroons, that dared not accept
their challenge. Such is the kind of swaggering and rhodomontade
in which the "red men" are prone to indulge in their vainglorious
moments; for, with all their vaunted taciturnity, they are
vehemently prone at times to become eloquent about their
exploits, and to sound their own trumpet.

Having vented their valor in this fierce effervescence, the
Bannack braves gradually calmed down, lowered their crests,
smoothed their ruffled feathers, and betook themselves to sleep,
without placing a single guard over their camp; so that, had the
Blackfeet taken them at their word, but few of these braggart
heroes might have survived for any further boasting.

On the following morning, Captain Bonneville purchased a supply
of buffalo meat from his braggadocio friends; who, with all their
vaporing, were in fact a very forlorn horde, destitute of
firearms, and of almost everything that constitutes riches in
savage life. The bargain concluded, the Bannacks set off for
their village, which was situated, they said, at the mouth of the
Portneuf, and Captain Bonneville and his companions shaped their
course toward Snake River.

Arrived on the banks of that river, he found it rapid and
boisterous, but not too deep to be forded. In traversing it,
however, one of the horses was swept suddenly from his footing,
and his rider was flung from the saddle into the midst of the
stream. Both horse and horseman were extricated without any
damage, excepting that the latter was completely drenched, so
that it was necessary to kindle a fire to dry him. While they
were thus occupied, one of the party looking up, perceived an
Indian scout cautiously reconnoitring them from the summit of a
neighboring hill. The moment he found himself discovered, he
disappeared behind the hill. From his furtive movements, Captain
Bonneville suspected him to be a scout from the Blackfeet camp,
and that he had gone to report what he had seen to his
companions. It would not do to loiter in such a neighborhood, so
the kindling of the fire was abandoned, the drenched horseman
mounted in dripping condition, and the little band pushed forward
directly into the plain, going at a smart pace, until they had
gained a considerable distance from the place of supposed danger.
Here encamping for the night, in the midst of abundance of sage,
or wormwood, which afforded fodder for their horses, they kindled
a huge fire for the benefit of their damp comrade, and then
proceeded to prepare a sumptuous supper of buffalo humps and
ribs, and other choice bits, which they had brought with them.
After a hearty repast, relished with an appetite unknown to city
epicures, they stretched themselves upon their couches of skins,
and under the starry canopy of heaven, enjoyed the sound and
sweet sleep of hardy and well-fed mountaineers.

They continued on their journey for several days, without any
incident worthy of notice, and on the 19th of November, came upon
traces of the party of which they were in search; such as burned
patches of prairie, and deserted camping grounds. All these were
carefully examined, to discover by their freshness or antiquity
the probable time that the trappers had left them; at length,
after much wandering and investigating, they came upon the
regular trail of the hunting party, which led into the mountains,
and following it up briskly, came about two o'clock in the
afternoon of the 20th, upon the encampment of Hodgkiss and his
band of free trappers, in the bosom of a mountain valley.

It will be recollected that these free trappers, who were masters
of themselves and their movements, had refused to accompany
Captain Bonneville back to Green River in the preceding month of
July, preferring to trap about the upper waters of the Salmon
River, where they expected to find plenty of beaver, and a less
dangerous neighborhood. Their hunt had not been very successful.
They had penetrated the great range of mountains among which some
of the upper branches of Salmon River take their rise, but had
become so entangled among immense and almost impassable
barricades of fallen pines, and so impeded by tremendous
precipices, that a great part of their season had been wasted
among these mountains. At one time, they had made their way
through them, and reached the Boisee River; but meeting with a
band of Bannack Indians, from whom they apprehended hostilities,
they had again taken shelter among the mountains, where they were
found by Captain Bonneville. In the neighborhood of their
encampment, the captain had the good fortune to meet with a
family of those wanderers of the mountains, emphatically called
"les dignes de pitie," or Poordevil Indians. These, however,
appear to have forfeited the title, for they had with them a fine
lot of skins of beaver, elk, deer, and mountain sheep. These,
Captain Bonneville purchased from them at a fair valuation, and
sent them off astonished at their own wealth, and no doubt
objects of envy to all their pitiful tribe.

Being now reinforced by Hodgkiss and his band of free trappers,
Captain Bonneville put himself at the head of the united parties,
and set out to rejoin those he had recently left at the Beer
Spring, that they might all go into winter quarters on Snake
River. On his route, he encountered many heavy falls of snow,
which melted almost immediately, so as not to impede his march,
and on the 4th of December, he found his other party, encamped at
the very place where he had partaken in the buffalo hunt with the
Bannacks.

That braggart horde was encamped but about three miles off, and
were just then in high glee and festivity, and more swaggering
than ever, celebrating a prodigious victory. It appeared that a
party of their braves being out on a hunting excursion,
discovered a band of Blackfeet moving, as they thought, to
surprise their hunting camp. The Bannacks immediately posted
themselves on each side of a dark ravine, through which the enemy
must pass, and, just as they were entangled in the midst of it,
attacked them with great fury. The Blackfeet, struck with sudden
panic, threw off their buffalo robes and fled, leaving one of
their warriors dead on the spot. The victors eagerly gathered up
the spoils; but their greatest prize was the scalp of the
Blackfoot brave. This they bore off in triumph to their village,
where it had ever since been an object of the greatest exultation
and rejoicing. It had been elevated upon a pole in the centre of
the village, where the warriors had celebrated the scalp dance
round it, with war feasts, war songs, and warlike harangues. It
had then been given up to the women and boys; who had paraded it
up and down the village with shouts and chants and antic dances;
occasionally saluting it with all kinds of taunts, invectives,
and revilings.

The Blackfeet, in this affair, do not appear to have acted up to
the character which has rendered them objects of such terror.
Indeed, their conduct in war, to the inexperienced observer, is
full of inconsistencies; at one time they are headlong in
courage, and heedless of danger; at another time cautious almost
to cowardice. To understand these apparent incongruities, one
must know their principles of warfare. A war party, however
triumphant, if they lose a warrior in the fight, bring back a
cause of mourning to their people, which casts a shade over the
glory of their achievement. Hence, the Indian is often less
fierce and reckless in general battle, than he is in a private
brawl; and the chiefs are checked in their boldest undertakings
by the fear of sacrificing their warriors.

This peculiarity is not confined to the Blackfeet. Among the
Osages, says Captain Bonneville, when a warrior falls in battle,
his comrades, though they may have fought with consummate valor,
and won a glorious victory, will leave their arms upon the field
of battle, and returning home with dejected countenances, will
halt without the encampment, and wait until the relatives of the
slain come forth and invite them to mingle again with their
people.



                              29. 
                                
      Winter camp at the Portneuf Fine springs The Bannack
    Indians Their honesty Captain Bonneville prepares for an
  expedition Christmas The American Falls Wild scenery Fishing
  Falls Snake Indians Scenery on the Bruneau View of volcanic
   country from a mountain Powder River  Shoshokoes, or Root
Diggers Their character, habits, habitations, dogs Vanity at its
                          last shift 

IN ESTABLISHING his winter camp near the Portnenf, Captain
Bonneville had drawn off to some little distance from his Bannack
friends, to avoid all annoyance from their intimacy or
intrusions. In so doing, however, he had been obliged to take up
his quarters on the extreme edge of the flat land, where he was
encompassed with ice and snow, and had nothing better for his
horses to subsist on than wormwood. The Bannacks, on the
contrary, were encamped among fine springs of water, where there
was grass in abundance. Some of these springs gush out of the
earth in sufficient quantity to turn a mill; and furnish
beautiful streams, clear as crystal, and full of trout of a large
size, which may be seen darting about the transparent water.

Winter now set in regularly. The snow had fallen frequently, and
in large quantities, and covered the ground to a depth of a foot;
and the continued coldness of the weather prevented any thaw.

By degrees, a distrust which at first subsisted between the
Indians and the trappers, subsided, and gave way to mutual
confidence and good will. A few presents convinced the chiefs
that the white men were their friends; nor were the white men
wanting in proofs of the honesty and good faith of their savage
neighbors. Occasionally, the deep snow and the want of fodder
obliged them to turn their weakest horses out to roam in quest of
sustenance. If they at any time strayed to the camp of the
Bannacks, they were immediately brought back. It must be
confessed, however, that if the stray horse happened, by any
chance, to be in vigorous plight and good condition, though he
was equally sure to be returned by the honest Bannacks, yet it
was always after the lapse of several days, and in a very gaunt
and jaded state; and always with the remark that they had found
him a long way off. The uncharitable were apt to surmise that he
had, in the interim, been well used up in a buffalo hunt; but
those accustomed to Indian morality in the matter of horseflesh,
considered it a singular evidence of honesty that he should be
brought back at all.

Being convinced, therefore, from these, and other circumstances,
that his people were encamped in the neighborhood of a tribe as
honest as they were valiant, and satisfied that they would pass
their winter unmolested, Captain Bonneville prepared for a
reconnoitring expedition of great extent and peril. This was, to
penetrate to the Hudson's Bay establishments on the banks of the
Columbia, and to make himself acquainted with the country and the
Indian tribes; it being one part of his scheme to establish a
trading post somewhere on the lower part of the river, so as to
participate in the trade lost to the United States by the capture
of Astoria. This expedition would, of course, take him through
the Snake River country, and across the Blue Mountains, the
scenes of so much hardship and disaster to Hunt and Crooks, and
their Astorian bands, who first explored it, and he would have to
pass through it in the same frightful season, the depth of
winter.

The idea of risk and hardship, however, only served to stimulate
the adventurous spirit of the captain. He chose three companions
for his journey, put up a small stock of necessaries in the most
portable form, and selected five horses and mules for themselves
and their baggage. He proposed to rejoin his band in the early
part of March, at the winter encampment near the Portneuf. All
these arrangements being completed, he mounted his horse on
Christmas morning, and set off with his three comrades. They
halted a little beyond the Bannack camp, and made their Christmas
dinner, which, if not a very merry, was a very hearty one, after
which they resumed their journey.

They were obliged to travel slowly, to spare their horses; for
the snow had increased in depth to eighteen inches; and though
somewhat packed and frozen, was not sufficiently so to yield firm
footing. Their route lay to the west, down along the left side of
Snake River; and they were several days in reaching the first, or
American Falls. The banks of the river, for a considerable
distance, both above and below the falls, have a volcanic
character: masses of basaltic rock are piled one upon another;
the water makes its way through their broken chasms, boiling
through narrow channels, or pitching in beautiful cascades over
ridges of basaltic columns.

Beyond these falls, they came to a picturesque, but
inconsiderable stream, called the Cassie. It runs through a level
valley, about four miles wide, where the soil is good; but the
prevalent coldness and dryness of the climate is unfavorable to
vegetation. Near to this stream there is a small mountain of mica
slate, including garnets. Granite, in small blocks, is likewise
seen in this neighborhood, and white sandstone. From this river,
the travellers had a prospect of the snowy heights of the Salmon
River Mountains to the north; the nearest, at least fifty miles
distant.

In pursuing his course westward, Captain Bonneville generally
kept several miles from Snake River, crossing the heads of its
tributary streams; though he often found the open country so
encumbered by volcanic rocks, as to render travelling extremely
difficult. Whenever he approached Snake River, he found it
running through a broad chasm, with steep, perpendicular sides of
basaltic rock. After several days' travel across a level plain,
he came to a part of the river which filled him with astonishment
and admiration. As far as the eye could reach, the river was
walled in by perpendicular cliffs two hundred and fifty feet
high, beetling like dark and gloomy battlements, while blocks and
fragments lay in masses at their feet, in the midst of the
boiling and whirling current. Just above, the whole stream
pitched in one cascade above forty feet in height, with a
thundering sound, casting up a volume of spray that hung in the
air like a silver mist. These are called by some the Fishing
Falls, as the salmon are taken here in immense quantities. They
cannot get by these falls.

After encamping at this place all night, Captain Bonneville, at
sunrise, descended with his party through a narrow ravine, or
rather crevice, in the vast wall of basaltic rock which bordered
the river; this being the only mode, for many miles, of getting
to the margin of the stream.

The snow lay in a thin crust along the banks of the river, so
that their travelling was much more easy than it had been
hitherto. There were foot tracks, also, made by the natives,
which greatly facilitated their progress. Occasionally, they met
the inhabitants of this wild region; a timid race, and but
scantily provided with the necessaries of life. Their dress
consisted of a mantle about four feet square, formed of strips of
rabbit skins sewed together; this they hung over their shoulders,
in the ordinary Indian mode of wearing the blanket. Their weapons
were bows and arrows; the latter tipped with obsidian, which
abounds in the neighborhood. Their huts were shaped like
haystacks, and constructed of branches of willow covered with
long grass, so as to be warm and comfortable. Occasionally, they
were surrounded by small inclosures of wormwood, about three feet
high, which gave them a cottage-like appearance. Three or four of
these tenements were occasionally grouped together in some wild
and striking situation, and had a picturesque effect. Sometimes
they were in sufficient number to form a small hamlet. From these
people, Captain Bonneville's party frequently purchased salmon,
dried in an admirable manner, as were likewise the roes. This
seemed to be their prime article of food; but they were extremely
anxious to get buffalo meat in exchange.

The high walls and rocks, within which the travellers had been so
long inclosed, now occasionally presented openings, through which
they were enabled to ascend to the plain, and to cut off
considerable bends of the river.

Throughout the whole extent of this vast and singular chasm, the
scenery of the river is said to be of the most wild and romantic
character. The rocks present every variety of masses and
grouping. Numerous small streams come rushing and boiling through
narrow clefts and ravines: one of a considerable size issued from
the face of a precipice, within twenty-five feet of its summit;
and after running in nearly a horizontal line for about one
hundred feet, fell, by numerous small cascades, to the rocky bank
of the river.

In its career through this vast and singular defile, Snake River
is upward of three hundred yards wide, and as clear as spring
water. Sometimes it steals along with a tranquil and noiseless
course; at other times, for miles and miles, it dashes on in a
thousand rapids, wild and beautiful to the eye, and lulling the
ear with the soft tumult of plashing waters.

Many of the tributary streams of Snake River, rival it in the
wildness and picturesqueness of their scenery. That called the
Bruneau; is particularly cited. It runs through a tremendous
chasm, rather than a valley, extending upwards of a hundred and
fifty miles. You come upon it on a sudden, in traversing a level
plain. It seems as if you could throw a stone across from cliff
to cliff; yet, the valley is near two thousand feet deep: so that
the river looks like an inconsiderable stream. Basaltic rocks
rise perpendicularly, so that it is impossible to get from the
plain to the water, or from the river margin to the plain. The
current is bright and limpid. Hot springs are found on the
borders of this river. One bursts out of the cliffs forty feet
above the river, in a stream sufficient to turn a mill, and sends
up a cloud of vapor.

We find a characteristic picture of this volcanic region of
mountains and streams, furnished by the journal of Mr. Wyeth,
which lies before us; who ascended a peak in the neighborhood we
are describing. From this summit, the country, he says, appears
an indescribable chaos; the tops of the hills exhibit the same
strata as far as the eye can reach; and appear to have once
formed the level of the country; and the valleys to be formed by
the sinking of the earth, rather than the rising of the hills.
Through the deep cracks and chasms thus formed, the rivers and
brooks make their way, which renders it difficult to follow them.
All these basaltic channels are called cut rocks by the trappers.
Many of the mountain streams disappear in the plains; either
absorbed by their thirsty soil, and by the porous surface of the
lava, or swallowed up in gulfs and chasms.

On the 12th of January (1834), Captain Bonneville reached Powder
River; much the largest stream that he had seen since leaving the
Portneuf. He struck it about three miles above its entrance into
Snake River. Here he found himself above the lower narrows and
defiles of the latter river, and in an open and level country.
The natives now made their appearance in considerable numbers,
and evinced the most insatiable curiosity respecting the white
men; sitting in groups for hours together, exposed to the
bleakest winds, merely for the pleasure of gazing upon the
strangers, and watching every movement. These are of that branch
of the great Snake tribe called Shoshokoes, or Root Diggers, from
their subsisting, in a great measure, on the roots of the earth;
though they likewise take fish in great quantities, and hunt, in
a small way. They are, in general, very poor; destitute of most
of the comforts of life, and extremely indolent: but a mild,
inoffensive race. They differ, in many respects, from the other
branch of the Snake tribe, the Shoshonies; who possess horses,
are more roving and adventurous, and hunt the buffalo.

On the following day, as Captain Bonneville approached the mouth
of Powder River, he discovered at least a hundred families of
these Diggers, as they are familiarly called, assembled in one
place. The women and children kept at a distance, perched among
the rocks and cliffs; their eager curiosity being somewhat dashed
with fear. From their elevated posts, they scrutinized the
strangers with the most intense earnestness; regarding them with
almost as much awe as if they had been beings of a supernatural
order.

The men, however, were by no means so shy and reserved; but
importuned Captain Bonneville and his companions excessively by
their curiosity. Nothing escaped their notice; and any thing they
could lay their hands on underwent the most minute examination.
To get rid of such inquisitive neighbors, the travellers kept on
for a considerable distance, before they encamped for the night.

The country, hereabout, was generally level and sandy; producing
very little grass, but a considerable quantity of sage or
wormwood. The plains were diversified by isolated hills, all cut
off, as it were, about the same height, so as to have tabular
summits. In this they resembled the isolated hills of the great
prairies, east of the Rocky Mountains; especially those found on
the plains of the Arkansas.

The high precipices which had hitherto walled in the channel of
Snake River had now disappeared; and the banks were of the
ordinary height. It should be observed, that the great valleys or
plains, through which the Snake River wound its course, were
generally of great breadth, extending on each side from thirty to
forty miles; where the view was bounded by unbroken ridges of
mountains.

The travellers found but little snow in the neighborhood of
Powder River, though the weather continued intensely cold. They
learned a lesson, however, from their forlorn friends, the Root
Diggers, which they subsequently found of great service in their
wintry wanderings. They frequently observed them to be furnished
with long ropes, twisted from the bark of the wormwood. This they
used as a slow match, carrying it always lighted. Whenever they
wished to warm themselves, they would gather together a little
dry wormwood, apply the match, and in an instant produce a
cheering blaze.

Captain Bonneville gives a cheerless account of a village of
these Diggers, which he saw in crossing the plain below Powder
River. "They live," says he, "without any further protection from
the inclemency of the season, than a sort of break-weather, about
three feet high, composed of sage (or wormwood), and erected
around them in the shape of a half moon." Whenever he met with
them, however, they had always a large suite of half-starved
dogs: for these animals, in savage as well as in civilized life,
seem to be the concomitants of beggary.

These dogs, it must be allowed, were of more use than the beggary
curs of cities. The Indian children used them in hunting the
small game of the neighborhood, such as rabbits and prairie dogs;
in which mongrel kind of chase they acquitted themselves with
some credit.

Sometimes the Diggers aspire to nobler game, and succeed in
entrapping the antelope, the fleetest animal of the prairies. The
process by which this is effected is somewhat singular. When the
snow has disappeared, says Captain Bonneville, and the ground
become soft, the women go into the thickest fields of wormwood,
and pulling it up in great quantities, construct with it a hedge,
about three feet high, inclosing about a hundred acres. A single
opening is left for the admission of the game. This done, the
women conceal themselves behind the wormwood, and wait patiently
for the coming of the antelopes; which sometimes enter this
spacious trap in considerable numbers. As soon as they are in,
the women give the signal, and the men hasten to play their part.
But one of them enters the pen at a time; and, after chasing the
terrified animals round the inclosure, is relieved by one of his
companions. In this way the hunters take their turns, relieving
each other, and keeping up a continued pursuit by relays, without
fatigue to themselves. The poor antelopes, in the end, are so
wearied down, that the whole party of men enter and dispatch them
with clubs; not one escaping that has entered the inclosure. The
most curious circumstance in this chase is, that an animal so
fleet and agile as the antelope, and straining for its life,
should range round and round this fated inclosure, without
attempting to overleap the low barrier which surrounds it. Such,
however, is said to be the fact; and such their only mode of
hunting the antelope.

Notwithstanding the absence of all comfort and convenience in
their habitations, and the general squalidness of their
appearance, the Shoshokoes do not appear to be destitute of
ingenuity. They manufacture good ropes, and even a tolerably fine
thread, from a sort of weed found in their neighborhood; and
construct bowls and jugs out of a kind of basket-work formed from
small strips of wood plaited: these, by the aid of a little wax,
they render perfectly water tight. Beside the roots on which they
mainly depend for subsistence, they collect great quantities of
seed, of various kinds, beaten with one hand out of the tops of
the plants into wooden bowls held for that purpose. The seed thus
collected is winnowed and parched, and ground between two stones
into a kind of meal or flour; which, when mixed with water, forms
a very palatable paste or gruel.

Some of these people, more provident and industrious than the
rest, lay up a stock of dried salmon, and other fish, for winter:
with these, they were ready to traffic with the travellers for
any objects of utility in Indian life; giving a large quantity in
exchange for an awl, a knife, or a fish-hook. Others were in the
most abject state of want and starvation; and would even gather
up the fish-bones which the travellers threw away after a repast,
warm them over again at the fire, and pick them with the greatest
avidity.

The farther Captain Bonneville advanced into the country of these
Root Diggers, the more evidence he perceived of their rude and
forlorn condition. "They were destitute," says he, "of the
necessary covering to protect them from the weather; and seemed
to be in the most unsophisticated ignorance of any other
propriety or advantage in the use of clothing. One old dame had
absolutely nothing on her person but a thread round her neck,
from which was pendant a solitary bead."

What stage of human destitution, however, is too destitute for
vanity! Though these naked and forlorn-looking beings had neither
toilet to arrange, nor beauty to contemplate, their greatest
passion was for a mirror. It was a "great medicine," in their
eyes. The sight of one was sufficient, at any time, to throw them
into a paroxysm of eagerness and delight; and they were ready to
give anything they had for the smallest fragment in which they
might behold their squalid features. With this simple instance of
vanity, in its primitive but vigorous state, we shall close our
remarks on the Root Diggers.



                              30. 
 Temperature of the climate Root Diggers on horseback An Indian
 guide Mountain prospects  The Grand Rond Difficulties on Snake
    River A scramble over the Blue Mountains Sufferings from
 hunger Prospect of the Immahah Valley  The exhausted traveller

THE TEMPERATURE of the regions west of the Rocky Mountains is
much milder than in the same latitudes on the Atlantic side; the
upper plains, however, which lie at a distance from the
sea-coast, are subject in winter to considerable vicissitude;
being traversed by lofty "sierras," crowned with perpetual snow,
which often produce flaws and streaks of intense cold This was
experienced by Captain Bonneville and his companions in their
progress westward. At the time when they left the Bannacks Snake
River was frozen hard: as they proceeded, the ice became broken
and floating; it gradually disappeared, and the weather became
warm and pleasant, as they approached a tributary stream called
the Little Wyer; and the soil, which was generally of a watery
clay, with occasional intervals of sand, was soft to the tread of
the horses. After a time, however, the mountains approached and
flanked the river; the snow lay deep in the valleys, and the
current was once more icebound.

Here they were visited by a party of Root Diggers, who were
apparently rising in the world, for they had "horse to ride and
weapon to wear," and were altogether better clad and equipped
than any of the tribe that Captain Bonneville had met with. They
were just from the plain of Boisee River, where they had left a
number of their tribe, all as well provided as themselves; having
guns, horses, and comfortable clothing. All these they obtained
from the Lower Nez Perces, with whom they were in habits [sic] of
frequent traffic. They appeared to have imbibed from that tribe
their noncombative principles, being mild and inoffensive in
their manners. Like them, also, they had something of religious
feelings; for Captain Bonneville observed that, before eating,
they washed their hands, and made a short prayer; which he
understood was their invariable custom. From these Indians, he
obtained a considerable supply of fish, and an excellent and
well-conditioned horse, to replace one which had become too weak
for the journey.

The travellers now moved forward with renovated spirits; the
snow, it is true, lay deeper and deeper as they advanced, but
they trudged on merrily, considering themselves well provided for
the journey, which could not be of much longer duration.

They had intended to proceed up the banks of Gun Creek, a stream
which flows into Snake River from the west; but were assured by
the natives that the route in that direction was impracticable.
The latter advised them to keep along Snake River, where they
would not be impeded by the snow. Taking one of the Diggers for a
guide, they set off along the river, and to their joy soon found
the country free from snow, as had been predicted, so that their
horses once more had the benefit of tolerable pasturage. Their
Digger proved an excellent guide, trudging cheerily in the
advance. He made an unsuccessful shot or two at a deer and a
beaver; but at night found a rabbit hole, whence he extracted the
occupant, upon which, with the addition of a fish given him by
the travellers, he made a hearty supper, and retired to rest,
filled with good cheer and good humor.

The next day the travellers came to where the hills closed upon
the river, leaving here and there intervals of undulating meadow
land. The river was sheeted with ice, broken into hills at long
intervals. The Digger kept on ahead of the party, crossing and
recrossing the river in pursuit of game, until, unluckily,
encountering a brother Digger, he stole off with him, without the
ceremony of leave-taking.

Being now left to themselves, they proceeded until they came to
some Indian huts, the inhabitants of which spoke a language
totally different from any they had yet heard. One, however,
understood the Nez Perce language, and through him they made
inquiries as to their route. These Indians were extremely kind
and honest, and furnished them with a small quantity of meat; but
none of them could be induced to act as guides.

Immediately in the route of the travellers lay a high mountain,
which they ascended with some difficulty. The prospect from the
summit was grand but disheartening. Directly before them towered
the loftiest peaks of Immahah, rising far higher than the
elevated ground on which they stood: on the other hand, they were
enabled to scan the course of the river, dashing along through
deep chasms, between rocks and precipices, until lost in a
distant wilderness of mountains, which closed the savage
landscape.

They remained for a long time contemplating, with perplexed and
anxious eye, this wild congregation of mountain barriers, and
seeking to discover some practicable passage. The approach of
evening obliged them to give up the task, and to seek some
camping ground for the night. Moving briskly forward, and
plunging and tossing through a succession of deep snow-drifts,
they at length reached a valley known among trappers as the
"Grand Rond," which they found entirely free from snow.

This is a beautiful and very fertile valley, about twenty miles
long and five or six broad; a bright cold stream called the
Fourche de Glace, or Ice River, runs through it. Its sheltered
situation, embosomed in mountains, renders it good pasturaging
ground in the winter time; when the elk come down to it in great
numbers, driven out of the mountains by the snow. The Indians
then resort to it to hunt. They likewise come to it in the summer
time to dig the camash root, of which it produces immense
quantities. When this plant is in blossom, the whole valley is
tinted by its blue flowers, and looks like the ocean when
overcast by a cloud.

After passing a night in this valley, the travellers in the
morning scaled the neighboring hills, to look out for a more
eligible route than that upon which they had unluckily fallen;
and, after much reconnoitring, determined to make their way once
more to the river, and to travel upon the ice when the banks
should prove impassable.

On the second day after this determination, they were again upon
Snake River, but, contrary to their expectations, it was nearly
free from ice. A narrow riband ran along the shore, and sometimes
there was a kind of bridge across the stream, formed of old ice
and snow. For a short time, they jogged along the bank, with
tolerable facility, but at length came to where the river forced
its way into the heart of the mountains, winding between
tremendous walls of basaltic rock, that rose perpendicularly from
the water's edge, frowning in bleak and gloomy grandeur. Here
difficulties of all kinds beset their path. The snow was from two
to three feet deep, but soft and yielding, so that the horses had
no foothold, but kept plunging forward, straining themselves by
perpetual efforts. Sometimes the crags and promontories forced
them upon the narrow riband of ice that bordered the shore;
sometimes they had to scramble over vast masses of rock which had
tumbled from the impending precipices; sometimes they had to
cross the stream upon the hazardous bridges of ice and snow,
sinking to the knee at every step; sometimes they had to scale
slippery acclivities, and to pass along narrow cornices, glazed
with ice and sleet, a shouldering wall of rock on one side, a
yawning precipice on the other, where a single false step would
have been fatal. In a lower and less dangerous pass, two of their
horses actually fell into the river; one was saved with much
difficulty, but the boldness of the shore prevented their
rescuing the other, and he was swept away by the rapid current.

In this way they struggled forward, manfully braving difficulties
and dangers, until they came to where the bed of the river was
narrowed to a mere chasm, with perpendicular walls of rock that
defied all further progress. Turning their faces now to the
mountain, they endeavored to cross directly over it; but, after
clambering nearly to the summit, found their path closed by
insurmountable barriers.

Nothing now remained but to retrace their steps. To descend a
cragged mountain, however, was more difficult and dangerous than
to ascend it. They had to lower themselves cautiously and slowly,
from steep to steep; and, while they managed with difficulty to
maintain their own footing, to aid their horses by holding on
firmly to the rope halters, as the poor animals stumbled among
slippery rocks, or slid down icy declivities. Thus, after a day
of intense cold, and severe and incessant toil, amidst the
wildest of scenery, they managed, about nightfall, to reach the
camping ground, from which they had started in the morning, and
for the first time in the course of their rugged and perilous
expedition, felt their hearts quailing under their multiplied
hardships.

A hearty supper, a tranquillizing pipe, and a sound night's
sleep, put them all in better mood, and in the morning they held
a consultation as to their future movements. About four miles
behind, they had remarked a small ridge of mountains approaching
closely to the river. It was determined to scale this ridge, and
seek a passage into the valley which must lie beyond. Should they
fail in this, but one alternative remained. To kill their horses,
dry the flesh for provisions, make boats of the hides, and, in
these, commit themselves to the stream--a measure hazardous in
the extreme.

A short march brought them to the foot of the mountain, but its
steep and cragged sides almost discouraged hope. The only chance
of scaling it was by broken masses of rock, piled one upon
another, which formed a succession of crags, reaching nearly to
the summit. Up these they wrought their way with indescribable
difficulty and peril, in a zigzag course, climbing from rock to
rock, and helping their horses up after them; which scrambled
among the crags like mountain goats; now and then dislodging some
huge stone, which, the moment they had left it, would roll down
the mountain, crashing and rebounding with terrific din. It was
some time after dark before they reached a kind of platform on
the summit of the mountain, where they could venture to encamp.
The winds, which swept this naked height, had whirled all the
snow into the valley beneath, so that the horses found tolerable
winter pasturage on the dry grass which remained exposed. The
travellers, though hungry in the extreme, were fain to make a
very frugal supper; for they saw their journey was likely to be
prolonged much beyond the anticipated term.

In fact, on the following day they discerned that, although
already at a great elevation, they were only as yet upon the
shoulder of the mountain. It proved to be a great sierra, or
ridge, of immense height, running parallel to the course of the
river, swelling by degrees to lofty peaks, but the outline gashed
by deep and precipitous ravines. This, in fact, was a part of the
chain of Blue Mountains, in which the first adventurers to
Astoria experienced such hardships.

We will not pretend to accompany the travellers step by step in
this tremendous mountain scramble, into which they had
unconsciously betrayed themselves. Day after day did their toil
continue; peak after peak had they to traverse, struggling with
difficulties and hardships known only to the mountain trapper. As
their course lay north, they had to ascend the southern faces of
the heights, where the sun had melted the snow, so as to render
the ascent wet and slippery, and to keep both men and horses
continually on the strain; while on the northern sides, the snow
lay in such heavy masses, that it was necessary to beat a track
down which the horses might be led. Every now and then, also,
their way was impeded by tall and numerous pines, some of which
had fallen, and lay in every direction.

In the midst of these toils and hardships, their provisions gave
out. For three days they were without food, and so reduced that
they could scarcely drag themselves along. At length one of the
mules, being about to give out from fatigue and famine, they
hastened to dispatch him. Husbanding this miserable supply, they
dried the flesh, and for three days subsisted upon the nutriment
extracted from the bones. As to the meat, it was packed and
preserved as long as they could do without it, not knowing how
long they might remain bewildered in these desolate regions.

One of the men was now dispatched ahead, to reconnoitre the
country, and to discover, if possible, some more practicable
route. In the meantime, the rest of the party moved on slowly.
After a lapse of three days, the scout rejoined them. He informed
them that Snake River ran immediately below the sierra or
mountainous ridge, upon which they were travelling; that it was
free from precipices, and was at no great distance from them in a
direct line; but that it would be impossible for them to reach it
without making a weary circuit. Their only course would be to
cross the mountain ridge to the left.

Up this mountain, therefore, the weary travellers directed their
steps; and the ascent, in their present weak and exhausted state,
was one of the severest parts of this most painful journey. For
two days were they toiling slowly from cliff to cliff, beating at
every step a path through the snow for their faltering horses. At
length they reached the summit, where the snow was blown off; but
in descending on the opposite side, they were often plunging
through deep drifts, piled in the hollows and ravines.

Their provisions were now exhausted, and they and their horses
almost ready to give out with fatigue and hunger; when one
afternoon, just as the sun was sinking behind a blue line of
distant mountain, they came to the brow of a height from which
they beheld the smooth valley of the Immahah stretched out in
smiling verdure below them.

The sight inspired almost a frenzy of delight. Roused to new
ardor, they forgot, for a time, their fatigues, and hurried down
the mountain, dragging their jaded horses after them, and
sometimes compelling them to slide a distance of thirty or forty
feet at a time. At length they reached the banks of the Immahah.
The young grass was just beginning to sprout, and the whole
valley wore an aspect of softness, verdure, and repose,
heightened by the contrast of the frightful region from which
they had just descended. To add to their joy, they observed
Indian trails along the margin of the stream, and other signs,
which gave them reason to believe that there was an encampment of
the Lower Nez Perces in the neighborhood, as it was within the
accustomed range of that pacific and hospitable tribe.

The prospect of a supply of food stimulated them to new exertion,
and they continued on as fast as the enfeebled state of
themselves and their steeds would permit. At length, one of the
men, more exhausted than the rest, threw himself upon the grass,
and declared he could go no further. It was in vain to attempt to
rouse him; his spirit had given out, and his replies only showed
the dogged apathy of despair. His companions, therefore, encamped
on the spot, kindled a blazing fire, and searched about for roots
with which to strengthen and revive him. They all then made a
starveling repast; but gathering round the fire, talked over past
dangers and troubles, soothed themselves with the persuasion that
all were now at an end, and went to sleep with the comforting
hope that the morrow would bring them into plentiful quarters.



                              31. 
                                
Progress in the valley An Indian cavalier The captain falls into
a lethargy A Nez Perce patriarch  Hospitable treatment The bald
 head Bargaining  Value of an old plaid cloak The family horse 
                 The cost of an Indian present

A TRANQUIL NIGHT'S REST had sufficiently restored the broken down
traveller to enable him to resume his wayfaring, and all hands
set forward on the Indian trail. With all their eagerness to
arrive within reach of succor, such was their feeble and
emaciated condition, that they advanced but slowly. Nor is it a
matter of surprise that they should almost have lost heart, as
well as strength. It was now (the 16th of February) fifty-three
days that they had been travelling in the midst of winter,
exposed to all kinds of privations and hardships: and for the
last twenty days, they had been entangled in the wild and
desolate labyrinths of the snowy mountains; climbing and
descending icy precipices, and nearly starved with cold and
hunger.

All the morning they continued following the Indian trail,
without seeing a human being, and were beginning to be
discouraged, when, about noon, they discovered a horseman at a
distance. He was coming directly toward them; but on discovering
them, suddenly reined up his steed, came to a halt, and, after
reconnoitring them for a time with great earnestness, seemed
about to make a cautious retreat. They eagerly made signs of
peace, and endeavored, with the utmost anxiety, to induce him to
approach. He remained for some time in doubt; but at length,
having satisfied himself that they were not enemies, came
galloping up to them. He was a fine, haughty-looking savage,
fancifully decorated, and mounted on a high-mettled steed, with
gaudy trappings and equipments. It was evident that he was a
warrior of some consequence among his tribe. His whole deportment
had something in it of barbaric dignity; he felt, perhaps, his
temporary superiority in personal array, and in the spirit of his
steed, to the poor, ragged, travel-worn trappers and their
half-starved horses. Approaching them with an air of protection,
he gave them his hand, and, in the Nez Perce language, invited
them to his camp, which was only a few miles distant; where he
had plenty to eat, and plenty of horses, and would cheerfully
share his good things with them.

His hospitable invitation was joyfully accepted: he lingered but
a moment, to give directions by which they might find his camp,
and then, wheeling round, and giving the reins to his mettlesome
steed, was soon out of sight. The travellers followed, with
gladdened hearts, but at a snail's pace; for their poor horses
could scarcely drag one leg after the other. Captain Bonneville,
however, experienced a sudden and singular change of feeling.
Hitherto, the necessity of conducting his party, and of providing
against every emergency, had kept his mind upon the stretch, and
his whole system braced and excited. In no one instance had he
flagged in spirit, or felt disposed to succumb. Now, however,
that all danger was over, and the march of a few miles would
bring them to repose and abundance, his energies suddenly
deserted him; and every faculty, mental and physical, was totally
relaxed. He had not proceeded two miles from the point where he
had had the interview with the Nez Perce chief, when he threw
himself upon the earth, without the power or will to move a
muscle, or exert a thought, and sank almost instantly into a
profound and dreamless sleep. His companions again came to a
halt, and encamped beside him, and there they passed the night.

The next morning, Captain Bonneville awakened from his long and
heavy sleep, much refreshed; and they all resumed their creeping
progress. They had not long been on the march, when eight or ten
of the Nez Perce tribe came galloping to meet them, leading fresh
horses to bear them to their camp. Thus gallantly mounted, they
felt new life infused into their languid frames, and dashing
forward, were soon at the lodges of the Nez Perces. Here they
found about twelve families living together, under the
patriarchal sway of an ancient and venerable chief. He received
them with the hospitality of the golden age, and with something
of the same kind of fare; for, while he opened his arms to make
them welcome, the only repast he set before them consisted of
roots. They could have wished for something more hearty and
substantial; but, for want of better, made a voracious meal on
these humble viands. The repast being over, the best pipe was
lighted and sent round: and this was a most welcome luxury,
having lost their smoking apparatus twelve days before, among the
mountains.

While they were thus enjoying themselves, their poor horses were
led to the best pastures in the neighborhood, where they were
turned loose to revel on the fresh sprouting grass; so that they
had better fare than their masters.

Captain Bonneville soon felt himself quite at home among these
quiet, inoffensive people. His long residence among their
cousins, the Upper Nez Perces, had made him conversant with their
language, modes of expression, and all their habitudes. He soon
found, too, that he was well known among them, by report, at
least, from the constant interchange of visits and messages
between the two branches of the tribe. They at first addressed
him by his name; giving him his title of captain, with a French
accent: but they soon gave him a title of their own; which, as
usual with Indian titles, had a peculiar signification. In the
case of the captain, it had somewhat of a whimsical origin.

As he sat chatting and smoking in the midst of them, he would
occasionally take off his cap. Whenever he did so, there was a
sensation in the surrounding circle. The Indians would half rise
from their recumbent posture, and gaze upon his uncovered head,
with their usual exclamation of astonishment. The worthy captain
was completely bald; a phenomenon very surprising in their eyes.
They were at a loss to know whether he had been scalped in
battle, or enjoyed a natural immunity from that belligerent
infliction. In a little while, he became known among them by an
Indian name, signifying "the bald chief." "A sobriquet," observes
the captain, "for which I can find no parallel in history since
the days of 'Charles the Bald.'"

Although the travellers had banqueted on roots, and been regaled
with tobacco smoke, yet their stomachs craved more generous fare.
In approaching the lodges of the Nez Perces, they had indulged in
fond anticipations of venison and dried salmon; and dreams of the
kind still haunted their imaginations, and could not be conjured
down. The keen appetites of mountain trappers, quickened by a
fortnight's fasting, at length got the better of all scruples of
pride, and they fairly begged some fish or flesh from the
hospitable savages. The latter, however, were slow to break in
upon their winter store, which was very limited; but were ready
to furnish roots in abundance, which they pronounced excellent
food. At length, Captain Bonneville thought of a means of
attaining the much-coveted gratification.

He had about him, he says, a trusty plaid; an old and valued
travelling companion and comforter; upon which the rains had
descended, and the snows and winds beaten, without further effect
than somewhat to tarnish its primitive lustre. This coat of many
colors had excited the admiration, and inflamed the covetousness
of both warriors and squaws, to an extravagant degree. An idea
now occurred to Captain Bonneville, to convert this rainbow
garment into the savory viands so much desired. There was a
momentary struggle in his mind, between old associations and
projected indulgence; and his decision in favor of the latter was
made, he says, with a greater promptness, perhaps, than true
taste and sentiment might have required. In a few moments, his
plaid cloak was cut into numerous strips. "Of these," continues
he, "with the newly developed talent of a man-milliner, I
speedily constructed turbans a la Turque, and fanciful head-gears
of divers conformations. These, judiciously distributed among
such of the womenkind as seemed of most consequence and interest
in the eyes of the patres conscripti, brought us, in a little
while, abundance of dried salmon and deers' hearts; on which we
made a sumptous supper. Another, and a more satisfactory smoke,
succeeded this repast, and sweet slumbers answering the peaceful
invocation of our pipes, wrapped us in that delicious rest, which
is only won by toil and travail." As to Captain Bonneville, he
slept in the lodge of the venerable patriarch, who had evidently
conceived a most disinterested affection for him; as was shown on
the following morning. The travellers, invigorated by a good
supper, and "fresh from the bath of repose," were about to resume
their journey, when this affectionate old chief took the captain
aside, to let him know how much he loved him. As a proof of his
regard, he had determined to give him a fine horse, which would
go further than words, and put his good will beyond all question.
So saying, he made a signal, and forthwith a beautiful young
horse, of a brown color, was led, prancing and snorting, to the
place. Captain Bonneville was suitably affected by this mark of
friendship; but his experience in what is proverbially called
"Indian giving," made him aware that a parting pledge was
necessary on his own part, to prove that his friendship was
reciprocated. He accordingly placed a handsome rifle in the hands
of the venerable chief, whose benevolent heart was evidently
touched and gratified by this outward and visible sign of amity.

Having now, as he thought, balanced this little account of
friendship, the captain was about to shift his saddle to this
noble gift-horse when the affectionate patriarch plucked him by
the sleeve, and introduced to him a whimpering, whining,
leathern-skinned old squaw, that might have passed for an
Egyptian mummy, without drying. "This," said he, "is my wife; she
is a good wife--I love her very much.--She loves the horse--she
loves him a great deal--she will cry very much at losing him.--I
do not know how I shall comfort her--and that makes my heart very
sore."

What could the worthy captain do, to console the tender-hearted
old squaw, and, peradventure, to save the venerable patriarch
from a curtain lecture? He bethought himself of a pair of
ear-bobs: it was true, the patriarch's better-half was of an age
and appearance that seemed to put personal vanity out of the
question, but when is personal vanity extinct? The moment he
produced the glittering earbobs, the whimpering and whining of
the sempiternal beldame was at an end. She eagerly placed the
precious baubles in her ears, and, though as ugly as the Witch of
Endor, went off with a sideling gait and coquettish air, as
though she had been a perfect Semiramis.

The captain had now saddled his newly acquired steed, and his
foot was in the stirrup, when the affectionate patriarch again
stepped forward, and presented to him a young Pierced-nose, who
had a peculiarly sulky look. "This," said the venerable chief,
"is my son: he is very good; a great horseman--he always took
care of this very fine horse--he brought him up from a colt, and
made him what he is.--He is very fond of this fine horse--he
loves him like a brother-- his heart will be very heavy when this
fine horse leaves the camp."

What could the captain do, to reward the youthful hope of this
venerable pair, and comfort him for the loss of his
foster-brother, the horse? He bethought him of a hatchet, which
might be spared from his slender stores. No sooner did he place
the implement into the hands of the young hopeful, than his
countenance brightened up, and he went off rejoicing in his
hatchet, to the full as much as did his respectable mother in her
ear-bobs.

The captain was now in the saddle, and about to start, when the
affectionate old patriarch stepped forward, for the third time,
and, while he laid one hand gently on the mane of the horse, held
up the rifle in the other. "This rifle," said he, "shall be my
great medicine. I will hug it to my heart--I will always love it,
for the sake of my good friend, the bald-headed chief.--But a
rifle, by itself, is dumb--I cannot make it speak. If I had a
little powder and ball, I would take it out with me, and would
now and then shoot a deer; and when I brought the meat home to my
hungry family, I would say--This was killed by the rifle of my
friend, the bald-headed chief, to whom I gave that very fine
horse."

There was no resisting this appeal; the captain, forthwith,
furnished the coveted supply of powder and ball; but at the same
time, put spurs to his very fine gift-horse, and the first trial
of his speed was to get out of all further manifestation of
friendship, on the part of the affectionate old patriarch and his
insinuating family.



                              32. 
                                
 Nez Perce camp A chief with a hard name The Big Hearts of the
     East Hospitable treatment The Indian guides Mysterious
     councils The loquacious chief Indian tomb Grand Indian
    reception An Indian feast Town-criers Honesty of the Nez
            Perces The captain's attempt at healing.

FOLLOWING THE COURSE of the Immahah, Captain Bonneville and his
three companions soon reached the vicinity of Snake River. Their
route now lay over a succession of steep and isolated hills, with
profound valleys. On the second day, after taking leave of the
affectionate old patriarch, as they were descending into one of
those deep and abrupt intervals, they descried a smoke, and
shortly afterward came in sight of a small encampment of Nez
Perces.

The Indians, when they ascertained that it was a party of white
men approaching, greeted them with a salute of firearms, and
invited them to encamp. This band was likewise under the sway of
a venerable chief named Yo-mus-ro-y-e-cut; a name which we shall
be careful not to inflict oftener than is necessary upon the
reader This ancient and hard-named chieftain welcomed Captain
Bonneville to his camp with the same hospitality and loving
kindness that he had experienced from his predecessor. He told
the captain he had often heard of the Americans and their
generous deeds, and that his buffalo brethren (the Upper Nez
Perces) had always spoken of them as the Big-hearted whites of
the East, the very good friends of the Nez Perces.

Captain Bonneville felt somewhat uneasy under the responsibility
of this magnanimous but costly appellation; and began to fear he
might be involved in a second interchange of pledges of
friendship. He hastened, therefore, to let the old chief know his
poverty-stricken state, and how little there was to be expected
from him.

He informed him that he and his comrades had long resided among
the Upper Nez Perces, and loved them so much, that they had
thrown their arms around them, and now held them close to their
hearts. That he had received such good accounts from the Upper
Nez Perces of their cousins, the Lower Nez Perce-s, that he had
become desirous of knowing them as friends and brothers. That he
and his companions had accordingly loaded a mule with presents
and set off for the country of the Lower Nez Perces; but,
unfortunately, had been entrapped for many days among the snowy
mountains; and that the mule with all the presents had fallen
into Snake River, and been swept away by the rapid current. That
instead, therefore, of arriving among their friends, the Nez
Perces, with light hearts and full hands, they came naked,
hungry, and broken down; and instead of making them presents,
must depend upon them even for food. "But," concluded he, "we are
going to the white men's fort on the Wallah-Wallah, and will soon
return; and then we will meet our Nez Perce friends like the true
Big Hearts of the East."

Whether the hint thrown out in the latter part of the speech had
any effect, or whether the old chief acted from the hospitable
feelings which, according to the captain, are really inherent in
the Nez Perce tribe, he certainly showed no disposition to relax
his friendship on learning the destitute circumstances of his
guests. On the contrary, he urged the captain to remain with them
until the following day, when he would accompany him on his
journey, and make him acquainted with all his people. In the
meantime, he would have a colt killed, and cut up for travelling
provisions. This, he carefully explained, was intended not as an
article of traffic, but as a gift; for he saw that his guests
were hungry and in need of food.

Captain Bonneville gladly assented to this hospitable
arrangement. The carcass of the colt was forthcoming in due
season, but the captain insisted that one half of it should be
set apart for the use of the chieftain's family.

At an early hour of the following morning, the little party
resumed their journey, accompanied by the old chief and an Indian
guide. Their route was over a rugged and broken country; where
the hills were slippery with ice and snow. Their horses, too,
were so weak and jaded, that they could scarcely climb the steep
ascents, or maintain their foothold on the frozen declivities.
Throughout the whole of the journey, the old chief and the guide
were unremitting in their good offices, and continually on the
alert to select the best roads, and assist them through all
difficulties. Indeed, the captain and his comrades had to be
dependent on their Indian friends for almost every thing, for
they had lost their tobacco and pipes, those great comforts of
the trapper, and had but a few charges of powder left, which it
was necessary to husband for the purpose of lighting their fires.

In the course of the day the old chief had several private
consultations with the guide, and showed evident signs of being
occupied with some mysterious matter of mighty import. What it
was, Captain Bonneville could not fathom, nor did he make much
effort to do so. From some casual sentences that he overheard, he
perceived that it was something from which the old man promised
himself much satisfaction, and to which he attached a little
vainglory but which he wished to keep a secret; so he suffered
him to spin out his petty plans unmolested.

In the evening when they encamped, the old chief and his privy
counsellor, the guide, had another mysterious colloquy, after
which the guide mounted his horse and departed on some secret
mission, while the chief resumed his seat at the fire, and sat
humming to himself in a pleasing but mystic reverie.

The next morning, the travellers descended into the valley of the
Way-lee-way, a considerable tributary of Snake River. Here they
met the guide returning from his secret errand. Another private
conference was held between him and the old managing chief, who
now seemed more inflated than ever with mystery and
self-importance. Numerous fresh trails, and various other signs,
persuaded Captain Bonneville that there must be a considerable
village of Nez Perces in the neighborhood; but as his worthy
companion, the old chief, said nothing on the subject, and as it
appeared to be in some way connected with his secret operations,
he asked no questions, but patiently awaited the development of
his mystery.

As they journeyed on, they came to where two or three Indians
were bathing in a small stream. The good old chief immediately
came to a halt, and had a long conversation with them, in the
course of which he repeated to them the whole history which
Captain Bonneville had related to him. In fact, he seems to have
been a very sociable, communicative old man; by no means
afflicted with that taciturnity generally charged upon the
Indians. On the contrary, he was fond of long talks and long
smokings, and evidently was proud of his new friend, the
bald-headed chief, and took a pleasure in sounding his praises,
and setting forth the power and glory of the Big Hearts of the
East.

Having disburdened himself of everything he had to relate to his
bathing friends, he left them to their aquatic disports, and
proceeded onward with the captain and his companions. As they
approached the Way-lee-way, however, the communicative old chief
met with another and a very different occasion to exert his
colloquial powers. On the banks of the river stood an isolated
mound covered with grass. He pointed to it with some emotion.
"The big heart and the strong arm," said he, "lie buried beneath
that sod."

It was, in fact, the grave of one of his friends; a chosen
warrior of the tribe; who had been slain on this spot when in
pursuit of a war party of Shoshokoes, who had stolen the horses
of the village. The enemy bore off his scalp as a trophy; but his
friends found his body in this lonely place, and committed it to
the earth with ceremonials characteristic of their pious and
reverential feelings. They gathered round the grave and mourned;
the warriors were silent in their grief; but the women and
children bewailed their loss with loud lamentations. "For three
days," said the old man, "we performed the solemn dances for the
dead, and prayed the Great Spirit that our brother might be happy
in the land of brave warriors and hunters. Then we killed at his
grave fifteen of our best and strongest horses, to serve him when
he should arrive at the happy hunting grounds; and having done
all this, we returned sorrowfully to our homes."

While the chief was still talking, an Indian scout came galloping
up, and, presenting him with a powder-horn, wheeled round, and
was speedily out of sight. The eyes of the old chief now
brightened; and all his self-importance returned. His petty
mystery was about to explode. Turning to Captain Bonneville, he
pointed to a hill hard by, and informed him, that behind it was a
village governed by a little chief, whom he had notified of the
approach of the bald-headed chief, and a party of the Big Hearts
of the East, and that he was prepared to receive them in becoming
style. As, among other ceremonials, he intended to salute them
with a discharge of firearms, he had sent the horn of gunpowder
that they might return the salute in a manner correspondent to
his dignity.

They now proceeded on until they doubled the point of the hill,
when the whole population of the village broke upon their view,
drawn out in the most imposing style, and arrayed in all their
finery. The effect of the whole was wild and fantastic, yet
singularly striking. In the front rank were the chiefs and
principal warriors, glaringly painted and decorated; behind them
were arranged the rest of the people, men, women, and children.

Captain Bonneville and his party advanced slowly, exchanging
salutes of firearms. When arrived within a respectful distance,
they dismounted. The chiefs then came forward successively,
according to their respective characters and consequence, to
offer the hand of good fellowship; each filing off when he had
shaken hands, to make way for his successor. Those in the next
rank followed in the same order, and so on, until all had given
the pledge of friendship. During all this time, the chief,
according to custom, took his stand beside the guests. If any of
his people advanced whom he judged unworthy of the friendship or
confidence of the white men, he motioned them off by a wave of
the hand, and they would submissively walk away. When Captain
Bonneville turned upon him an inquiring look, he would observe,
"he was a bad man," or something quite as concise, and there was
an end of the matter.

Mats, poles, and other materials were now brought, and a
comfortable lodge was soon erected for the strangers, where they
were kept constantly supplied with wood and water, and other
necessaries; and all their effects were placed in safe keeping.
Their horses, too, were unsaddled, and turned loose to graze, and
a guard set to keep watch upon them.

All this being adjusted, they were conducted to the main building
or council house of the village, where an ample repast, or rather
banquet, was spread, which seemed to realize all the
gastronomical dreams that had tantalized them during their long
starvation; for here they beheld not merely fish and roots in
abundance, but the flesh of deer and elk, and the choicest pieces
of buffalo meat. It is needless to say how vigorously they
acquitted themselves on this occasion, and how unnecessary it was
for their hosts to practice the usual cramming principle of
Indian hospitality.

When the repast was over, a long talk ensued. The chief showed
the same curiosity evinced by his tribe generally, to obtain
information concerning the United States, of which they knew
little but what they derived through their cousins, the Upper Nez
Perces; as their traffic is almost exclusively with the British
traders of the Hudson's Bay Company. Captain Bonneville did his
best to set forth the merits of his nation, and the importance of
their friendship to the red men, in which he was ably seconded by
his worthy friend, the old chief with the hard name, who did all
that he could to glorify the Big Hearts of the East.

The chief, and all present, listened with profound attention, and
evidently with great interest; nor were the important facts thus
set forth, confined to the audience in the lodge; for sentence
after sentence was loudly repeated by a crier for the benefit of
the whole village.

This custom of promulgating everything by criers, is not confined
to the Nez Perces, but prevails among many other tribes. It has
its advantage where there are no gazettes to publish the news of
the day, or to report the proceedings of important meetings. And
in fact, reports of this kind, viva voce, made in the hearing of
all parties, and liable to be contradicted or corrected on the
spot, are more likely to convey accurate information to the
public mind than those circulated through the press. The office
of crier is generally filled by some old man, who is good for
little else. A village has generally several of these walking
newspapers, as they are termed by the whites, who go about
proclaiming the news of the day, giving notice of public
councils, expeditions, dances, feasts, and other ceremonials, and
advertising anything lost. While Captain Bonneville remained
among the Nez Perces, if a glove, handkerchief, or anything of
similar value, was lost or mislaid, it was carried by the finder
to the lodge of the chief, and proclamation was made by one of
their criers, for the owner to come and claim his property.

How difficult it is to get at the true character of these
wandering tribes of the wilderness! In a recent work, we have had
to speak of this tribe of Indians from the experience of other
traders who had casually been among them, and who represented
them as selfish, inhospitable, exorbitant in their dealings, and
much addicted to thieving; Captain Bonneville, on the contrary,
who resided much among them, and had repeated opportunities of
ascertaining their real character, invariably speaks of them as
kind and hospitable, scrupulously honest, and remarkable, above
all other Indians that he had met with, for a strong feeling of
religion. In fact, so enthusiastic is he in their praise, that he
pronounces them, all ignorant and barbarous as they are by their
condition, one of the purest hearted people on the face of the
earth.

Some cures which Captain Bonneville had effected in simple cases,
among the Upper Nez Perces, had reached the ears of their cousins
here, and gained for him the reputation of a great medicine man.
He had not been long in the village, therefore, before his lodge
began to be the resort of the sick and the infirm. The captain
felt the value of the reputation thus accidentally and cheaply
acquired, and endeavored to sustain it. As he had arrived at that
age when every man is, experimentally, something of a physician,
he was enabled to turn to advantage the little knowledge in the
healing art which he had casually picked up; and was sufficiently
successful in two or three cases, to convince the simple Indians
that report had not exaggerated his medical talents. The only
patient that effectually baffled his skill, or rather discouraged
any attempt at relief, was an antiquated squaw with a churchyard
cough, and one leg in the grave; it being shrunk and rendered
useless by a rheumatic affection. This was a case beyond his
mark; however, he comforted the old woman with a promise that he
would endeavor to procure something to relieve her, at the fort
on the Wallah-Wallah, and would bring it on his return; with
which assurance her husband was so well satisfied, that he
presented the captain with a colt, to be killed as provisions for
the journey: a medical fee which was thankfully accepted.

While among these Indians, Captain Bonneville unexpectedly found
an owner for the horse which he had purchased from a Root Digger
at the Big Wyer. The Indian satisfactorily proved that the horse
had been stolen from him some time previous, by some unknown
thief. "However," said the considerate savage, "you got him in
fair trade--you are more in want of horses than I am: keep him;
he is yours--he is a good horse; use him well."

Thus, in the continued experience of acts of kindness and
generosity, which his destitute condition did not allow him to
reciprocate, Captain Bonneville passed some short time among
these good people, more and more impressed with the general
excellence of their character.



                              33.
                                
  Scenery of the Way-lee-way A substitute for tobacco Sublime
scenery of Snake River The garrulous old chief and his cousin A
 Nez Perce meeting A stolen skin The scapegoat dog  Mysterious
   conferences The little chief His hospitality The captain's
        account of the United States His healing skill 

IN RESUMING HIS JOURNEY, Captain Bonneville was conducted by the
same Nez Perce guide, whose knowledge of the country was
important in choosing the routes and resting places. He also
continued to be accompanied by the worthy old chief with the hard
name, who seemed bent upon doing the honors of the country, and
introducing him to every branch of his tribe. The Way-lee-way,
down the banks of which Captain Bonneville and his companions
were now travelling, is a considerable stream winding through a
succession of bold and beautiful scenes. Sometimes the landscape
towered into bold and mountainous heights that partook of
sublimity; at other times, it stretched along the water side in
fresh smiling meadows, and graceful undulating valleys.

Frequently in their route they encountered small parties of the
Nez Perces, with whom they invariably stopped to shake hands; and
who, generally, evinced great curiosity concerning them and their
adventures; a curiosity which never failed to be thoroughly
satisfied by the replies of the worthy Yo-mus-ro-y-e-cut, who
kindly took upon himself to be spokesman of the party.

The incessant smoking of pipes incident to the long talks of this
excellent, but somewhat garrulous old chief, at length exhausted
all his stock of tobacco, so that he had no longer a whiff with
which to regale his white companions. In this emergency, he cut
up the stem of his pipe into fine shavings, which he mixed with
certain herbs, and thus manufactured a temporary succedaneum to
enable him to accompany his long colloquies and harangues with
the customary fragrant cloud.

If the scenery of the Way-lee-way had charmed the travellers with
its mingled amenity and grandeur, that which broke upon them on
once more reaching Snake River, filled them with admiration and
astonishment. At times, the river was overhung by dark and
stupendous rocks, rising like gigantic walls and battlements;
these would be rent by wide and yawning chasms, that seemed to
speak of past convulsions of nature. Sometimes the river was of a
glassy smoothness and placidity; at other times it roared along
in impetuous rapids and foaming cascades. Here, the rocks were
piled in the most fantastic crags and precipices; and in another
place, they were succeeded by delightful valleys carpeted with
green-award. The whole of this wild and varied scenery was
dominated by immense mountains rearing their distant peaks into
the clouds. "The grandeur and originality of the views, presented
on every side," says Captain Bonneville, "beggar both the pencil
and the pen. Nothing we had ever gazed upon in any other region
could for a moment compare in wild majesty and impressive
sternness, with the series of scenes which here at every turn
astonished our senses, and filled us with awe and delight."

Indeed, from all that we can gather from the journal before us,
and the accounts of other travellers, who passed through these
regions in the memorable enterprise of Astoria, we are inclined
to think that Snake River must be one of the most remarkable for
varied and striking scenery of all the rivers of this continent.
From its head waters in the Rocky Mountains, to its junction with
the Columbia, its windings are upward of six hundred miles
through every variety of landscape. Rising in a volcanic region,
amid extinguished craters, and mountains awful with the traces of
ancient fires, it makes its way through great plains of lava and
sandy deserts, penetrates vast sierras or mountainous chains,
broken into romantic and often frightful precipices, and crowned
with eternal snows; and at other times, careers through green and
smiling meadows, and wide landscapes of Italian grace and beauty.
Wildness and sublimity, however, appear to be its prevailing
characteristics.

Captain Bonneville and his companions had pursued their journey a
considerable distance down the course of Snake River, when the
old chief halted on the bank, and dismounting, recommended that
they should turn their horses loose to graze, while he summoned a
cousin of his from a group of lodges on the opposite side of the
stream. His summons was quickly answered. An Indian, of an active
elastic form, leaped into a light canoe of cotton-wood, and
vigorously plying the paddle, soon shot across the river.
Bounding on shore, he advanced with a buoyant air and frank
demeanor, and gave his right hand to each of the party in turn.
The old chief, whose hard name we forbear to repeat, now
presented Captain Bonneville, in form, to his cousin, whose name,
we regret to say, was no less hard being nothing less than
Hay-she-in-cow-cow. The latter evinced the usual curiosity to
know all about the strangers, whence they came whither they were
going, the object of their journey, and the adventures they had
experienced. All these, of course, were ample and eloquently set
forth by the communicative old chief. To all his grandiloquent
account of the bald-headed chief and his countrymen, the Big
Hearts of the East, his cousin listened with great attention, and
replied in the customary style of Indian welcome. He then desired
the party to await his return, and, springing into his canoe,
darted across the river. In a little while he returned, bringing
a most welcome supply of tobacco, and a small stock of provisions
for the road, declaring his intention of accompanying the party.
Having no horse, he mounted behind one of the men, observing that
he should procure a steed for himself on the following day.

They all now jogged on very sociably and cheerily together. Not
many miles beyond, they met others of the tribe, among whom was
one, whom Captain Bonneville and his comrades had known during
their residence among the Upper Nez Perces, and who welcomed them
with open arms. In this neighborhood was the home of their guide,
who took leave of them with a profusion of good wishes for their
safety and happiness. That night they put up in the hut of a Nez
Perce, where they were visited by several warriors from the other
side of the river, friends of the old chief and his cousin, who
came to have a talk and a smoke with the white men. The heart of
the good old chief was overflowing with good will at thus being
surrounded by his new and old friends, and he talked with more
spirit and vivacity than ever. The evening passed away in perfect
harmony and good-humor, and it was not until a late hour that the
visitors took their leave and recrossed the river.

After this constant picture of worth and virtue on the part of
the Nez Perce tribe, we grieve to have to record a circumstance
calculated to throw a temporary shade upon the name. In the
course of the social and harmonious evening just mentioned, one
of the captain's men, who happened to be something of a virtuoso
in his way, and fond of collecting curiosities, produced a small
skin, a great rarity in the eyes of men conversant in peltries.
It attracted much attention among the visitors from beyond the
river, who passed it from one to the other, examined it with
looks of lively admiration, and pronounced it a great medicine.

In the morning, when the captain and his party were about to set
off, the precious skin was missing. Search was made for it in the
hut, but it was nowhere to be found; and it was strongly
suspected that it had been purloined by some of the connoisseurs
from the other side of the river.

The old chief and his cousin were indignant at the supposed
delinquency of their friends across the water, and called out for
them to come over and answer for their shameful conduct. The
others answered to the call with all the promptitude of perfect
innocence, and spurned at the idea of their being capable of such
outrage upon any of the Big-hearted nation. All were at a loss on
whom to fix the crime of abstracting the invaluable skin, when by
chance the eyes of the worthies from beyond the water fell upon
an unhappy cur, belonging to the owner of the hut. He was a
gallows-looking dog, but not more so than most Indian dogs, who,
take them in the mass, are little better than a generation of
vipers. Be that as it may, he was instantly accused of having
devoured the skin in question. A dog accused is generally a dog
condemned; and a dog condemned is generally a dog executed. So
was it in the present instance. The unfortunate cur was
arraigned; his thievish looks substantiated his guilt, and he was
condemned by his judges from across the river to be hanged. In
vain the Indians of the hut, with whom he was a great favorite,
interceded in his behalf. In vain Captain Bonneville and his
comrades petitioned that his life might be spared. His judges
were inexorable. He was doubly guilty: first, in having robbed
their good friends, the Big Hearts of the East; secondly, in
having brought a doubt on the honor of the Nez Perce tribe. He
was, accordingly, swung aloft, and pelted with stones to make his
death more certain. The sentence of the judges being thoroughly
executed, a post mortem examination of the body of the dog was
held, to establish his delinquency beyond all doubt, and to leave
the Nez Perces without a shadow of suspicion. Great interest, of
course, was manifested by all present, during this operation. The
body of the dog was opened, the intestines rigorously
scrutinized, but, to the horror of all concerned, not a particle
of the skin was to be found--the dog had been unjustly executed!

A great clamor now ensued, but the most clamorous was the party
from across the river, whose jealousy of their good name now
prompted them to the most vociferous vindications of their
innocence. It was with the utmost difficulty that the captain and
his comrades could calm their lively sensibilities, by accounting
for the disappearance of the skin in a dozen different ways,
until all idea of its having been stolen was entirely out of the
question.

The meeting now broke up. The warriors returned across the river,
the captain and his comrades proceeded on their journey; but the
spirits of the communicative old chief, Yo-mus-ro-y-e-cut, were
for a time completely dampened, and he evinced great
mortification at what had just occurred. He rode on in silence,
except, that now and then he would give way to a burst of
indignation, and exclaim, with a shake of the head and a toss of
the hand toward the opposite shore--"bad men, very bad men across
the river"; to each of which brief exclamations, his worthy
cousin, Hay-she-in-cow-cow, would respond by a guttural sound of
acquiescence, equivalent to an amen.

After some time, the countenance of the-old chief again cleared
up, and he fell into repeated conferences, in an under tone, with
his cousin, which ended in the departure of the latter, who,
applying the lash to his horse, dashed forward and was soon out
of sight. In fact, they were drawing near to the village of
another chief, likewise distinguished by an appellation of some
longitude, O-pushy-e-cut; but commonly known as the great chief.
The cousin had been sent ahead to give notice of their approach;
a herald appeared as before, bearing a powder-horn, to enable
them to respond to the intended salute. A scene ensued, on their
approach to the village, similar to that which had occurred at
the village of the little chief. The whole population appeared in
the field, drawn up in lines, arrayed with the customary regard
to rank and dignity. Then came on the firing of salutes, and the
shaking of hands, in which last ceremonial every individual, man,
woman, and child, participated; for the Indians have an idea that
it is as indispensable an overture of friendship among the whites
as smoking of the pipe is among the red men. The travellers were
next ushered to the banquet, where all the choicest viands that
the village could furnish, were served up in rich profusion. They
were afterwards entertained by feats of agility and horseraces;
indeed, their visit to the village seemed the signal for complete
festivity. In the meantime, a skin lodge had been spread for
their accommodation, their horses and baggage were taken care of,
and wood and water supplied in abundance. At night, therefore,
they retired to their quarters, to enjoy, as they supposed, the
repose of which they stood in need. No such thing, however, was
in store for them. A crowd of visitors awaited their appearance,
all eager for a smoke and a talk. The pipe was immediately
lighted, and constantly replenished and kept alive until the
night was far advanced. As usual, the utmost eagerness was
evinced by the guests to learn everything within the scope of
their comprehension respecting the Americans, for whom they
professed the most fraternal regard. The captain, in his replies,
made use of familiar illustrations, calculated to strike their
minds, and impress them with such an idea of the might of his
nation, as would induce them to treat with kindness and respect
all stragglers that might fall in their path. To their inquiries
as to the numbers of the people of the United States, he assured
them that they were as countless as the blades of grass in the
prairies, and that, great as Snake River was, if they were all
encamped upon its banks, they would drink it dry in a single day.
To these and similar statistics, they listened with profound
attention, and apparently, implicit belief. It was, indeed, a
striking scene: the captain, with his hunter's dress and bald
head in the midst, holding forth, and his wild auditors seated
around like so many statues, the fire lighting up their painted
faces and muscular figures, all fixed and motionless, excepting
when the pipe was passed, a question propounded, or a startling
fact in statistics received with a movement of surprise and a
half-suppressed ejaculation of wonder and delight.

The fame of the captain as a healer of diseases, had accompanied
him to this village, and the great chief, O-push-y-e-cut, now
entreated him to exert his skill on his daughter, who had been
for three days racked with pains, for which the Pierced-nose
doctors could devise no alleviation. The captain found her
extended on a pallet of mats in excruciating pain. Her father
manifested the strongest paternal affection for her, and assured
the captain that if he would but cure her, he would place the
Americans near his heart. The worthy captain needed no such
inducement. His kind heart was already touched by the sufferings
of the poor girl, and his sympathies quickened by her appearance;
for she was but about sixteen years of age, and uncommonly
beautiful in form and feature. The only difficulty with the
captain was, that he knew nothing of her malady, and that his
medical science was of a most haphazard kind. After considering
and cogitating for some time, as a man is apt to do when in a
maze of vague ideas, he made a desperate dash at a remedy. By his
directions, the girl was placed in a sort of rude vapor bath,
much used by the Nez Perces, where she was kept until near
fainting. He then gave her a dose of gunpowder dissolved in cold
water, and ordered her to be wrapped in buffalo robes and put to
sleep under a load of furs and blankets. The remedy succeeded:
the next morning she was free from pain, though extremely
languid; whereupon, the captain prescribed for her a bowl of
colt's head broth, and that she should be kept for a time on
simple diet.

The great chief was unbounded in his expressions of gratitude for
the recovery of his daughter. He would fain have detained the
captain a long time as his guest, but the time for departure had
arrived. When the captain's horse was brought for him to mount,
the chief declared that the steed was not worthy of him, and sent
for one of his best horses, which he presented in its stead;
declaring that it made his heart glad to see his friend so well
mounted. He then appointed a young Nez Perce to accompany his
guest to the next village, and "to carry his talk" concerning
them; and the two parties separated with mutual expressions of
good will.

The vapor bath of which we have made mention is in frequent use
among the Nez Perce tribe, chiefly for cleanliness. Their
sweating houses, as they call them, are small and close lodges,
and the vapor is produced by water poured slowly upon red-hot
stones.

On passing the limits of O-push-y-e-cut's domains, the travellers
left the elevated table-lands, and all the wild and romantic
scenery which has just been described. They now traversed a
gently undulating country, of such fertility that it excited the
rapturous admiration of two of the captain's followers, a
Kentuckian and a native of Ohio. They declared that it surpassed
any land that they had ever seen, and often exclaimed what a
delight it would be just to run a plough through such a rich and
teeming soil, and see it open its bountiful promise before the
share.

Another halt and sojourn of a night was made at the village of a
chief named He-mim-el-pilp, where similar ceremonies were
observed and hospitality experienced, as at the preceding
villages. They now pursued a west-southwest course through a
beautiful and fertile region, better wooded than most of the
tracts through which they had passed. In their progress, they met
with several bands of Nez Perces, by whom they were invariably
treated with the utmost kindness. Within seven days after leaving
the domain of He-mim-el-pilp, they struck the Columbia River at
Fort Wallah-Wallah, where they arrived on the 4th of March, 1834.



                              34.
                                
        Fort Wallah-Wallah Its commander Indians in its
        neighborhood Exertions of Mr. Pambrune for their
    improvement Religion Code of laws Range of the Lower Nez
Perces Camash, and other roots  Nez Perce horses Preparations for
 departure  Refusal of supplies Departure A laggard and glutton

FORT WALLAH - WALLAH is a trading post of the Hudson's Bay
Company, situated just above the mouth of the river by the same
name, and on the left bank of the Columbia. It is built of
drift-wood, and calculated merely for defence against any attack
of the natives. At the time of Captain Bonneville's arrival, the
whole garrison mustered but six or eight men; and the post was
under the superintendence of Mr. Pambrune, an agent of the
Hudson's Bay Company.

The great post and fort of the company, forming the emporium of
its trade on the Pacific, is Fort Vancouver; situated on the
right bank of the Columbia, about sixty miles from the sea, and
just above the mouth of the Wallamut. To this point, the company
removed its establishment from Astoria, in 1821, after its
coalition with the Northwest Company.

Captain Bonneville and his comrades experienced a polite
reception from Mr. Pambrune, the superintendent: for, however
hostile the members of the British Company may be to the
enterprises of American traders, they have always manifested
great courtesy and hospitality to the traders themselves.

Fort Wallah-Wallah is surrounded by the tribe of the same name,
as well as by the Skynses and the Nez Perces; who bring to it the
furs and peltries collected in their hunting expeditions. The
Wallah-Wallahs are a degenerate, worn-out tribe. The Nez Perces
are the most numerous and tractable of the three tribes just
mentioned. Mr. Pambrune informed Captain Bonneville that he had
been at some pains to introduce the Christian religion, in the
Roman Catholic form, among them, where it had evidently taken
root; but had become altered and modified, to suit their peculiar
habits of thought, and motives of action; retaining, however, the
principal points of faith, and its entire precepts of morality.
The same gentleman had given them a code of laws, to which they
conformed with scrupulous fidelity. Polygamy, which once
prevailed among them to a great extent, was now rarely indulged.
All the crimes denounced by the Christian faith met with severe
punishment among them. Even theft, so venial a crime among the
Indians, had recently been punished with hanging, by sentence of
a chief.

There certainly appears to be a peculiar susceptibility of moral
and religious improvement among this tribe, and they would seem
to be one of the very, very few that have benefited in morals and
manners by an intercourse with white men. The parties which
visited them about twenty years previously, in the expedition
fitted out by Mr. Astor, complained of their selfishness, their
extortion, and their thievish propensities. The very reverse of
those qualities prevailed among them during the prolonged
sojourns of Captain Bonneville.

The Lower Nez Perces range upon the Way-lee-way, Immahah,
Yenghies, and other of the streams west of the mountains. They
hunt the beaver, elk, deer, white bear, and mountain sheep.
Besides the flesh of these animals, they use a number of roots
for food; some of which would be well worth transplanting and
cultivating in the Atlantic States. Among these is the camash, a
sweet root, about the form and size of an onion, and said to be
really delicious. The cowish, also, or biscuit root, about the
size of a walnut, which they reduce to a very palatable flour;
together with the jackap, aisish, quako, and others; which they
cook by steaming them in the ground.

In August and September, these Indians keep along the rivers,
where they catch and dry great quantities of salmon; which, while
they last, are their principal food. In the winter, they
congregate in villages formed of comfortable huts, or lodges,
covered with mats. They are generally clad in deer skins, or
woollens, and extremely well armed. Above all, they are
celebrated for owning great numbers of horses; which they mark,
and then suffer to range in droves in their most fertile plains.
These horses are principally of the pony breed; but remarkably
stout and long-winded. They are brought in great numbers to the
establishments of the Hudson's Bay Company, and sold for a mere
trifle.

Such is the account given by Captain Bonneville of the Nez
Perces; who, if not viewed by him with too partial an eye, are
certainly among the gentlest, and least barbarous people of these
remote wildernesses. They invariably signified to him their
earnest wish that an American post might be established among
them; and repeatedly declared that they would trade with
Americans, in preference to any other people.

Captain Bonneville had intended to remain some time in this
neighborhood, to form an acquaintance with the natives, and to
collect information, and establish connections that might be
advantageous in the way of trade. The delays, however, which he
had experienced on his journey, obliged him to shorten his
sojourn, and to set off as soon as possible, so as to reach the
rendezvous at the Portneuf at the appointed time. He had seen
enough to convince him that an American trade might be carried on
with advantage in this quarter; and he determined soon to return
with a stronger party, more completely fitted for the purpose.

As he stood in need of some supplies for his journey, he applied
to purchase them of Mr. Pambrune; but soon found the difference
between being treated as a guest, or as a rival trader. The
worthy superintendent, who had extended to him all the genial
rites of hospitality, now suddenly assumed a withered-up aspect
and demeanor, and observed that, however he might feel disposed
to serve him, personally, he felt bound by his duty to the
Hudson's Bay Company, to do nothing which should facilitate or
encourage the visits of other traders among the Indians in that
part of the country. He endeavored to dissuade Captain Bonneville
from returning through the Blue Mountains; assuring him it would
be extremely difficult and dangerous, if not impracticable, at
this season of the year; and advised him to accompany Mr.
Payette, a leader of the Hudson's Bay Company, who was about to
depart with a number of men, by a more circuitous, but safe
route, to carry supplies to the company's agent, resident among
the Upper Nez Perces. Captain Bonneville, however, piqued at his
having refused to furnish him with supplies, and doubting the
sincerity of his advice, determined to return by the more direct
route through the mountains; though varying his course, in some
respects, from that by which he had come, in consequence of
information gathered among the neighboring Indians.

Accordingly, on the 6th of March, he and his three companions,
accompanied by their Nez Perce guides, set out on their return.
In the early part of their course, they touched again at several
of the Nez Perce villages, where they had experienced such kind
treatment on their way down. They were always welcomed with
cordiality; and everything was done to cheer them on their
journey.

On leaving the Way-lee-way village, they were joined by a Nez
Perce, whose society was welcomed on account of the general
gratitude and good will they felt for his tribe. He soon proved a
heavy clog upon the little party, being doltish and taciturn,
lazy in the extreme, and a huge feeder. His only proof of
intellect was in shrewdly avoiding all labor, and availing
himself of the toil of others. When on the march, he always
lagged behind the rest, leaving to them the task of breaking a
way through all difficulties and impediments, and leisurely and
lazily jogging along the track, which they had beaten through the
snow. At the evening encampment, when others were busy gathering
fuel, providing for the horses, and cooking the evening repast,
this worthy Sancho of the wilderness would take his seat quietly
and cosily by the fire, puffing away at his pipe, and eyeing in
silence, but with wistful intensity of gaze, the savory morsels
roasting for supper.

When meal-time arrived, however, then came his season of
activity. He no longer hung back, and waited for others to take
the lead, but distinguished himself by a brilliancy of onset, and
a sustained vigor and duration of attack, that completely shamed
the efforts of his competitors--albeit, experienced trenchermen
of no mean prowess. Never had they witnessed such power of
mastication, and such marvellous capacity of stomach, as in this
native and uncultivated gastronome. Having, by repeated and
prolonged assaults, at length completely gorged himself, he would
wrap himself up and lie with the torpor of an anaconda; slowly
digesting his way on to the next repast.

The gormandizing powers of this worthy were, at first, matters of
surprise and merriment to the travellers; but they soon became
too serious for a joke, threatening devastation to the fleshpots;
and he was regarded askance, at his meals, as a regular
kill-crop, destined to waste the substance of the party. Nothing
but a sense of the obligations they were under to his nation
induced them to bear with such a guest; but he proceeded,
speedily, to relieve them from the weight of these obligations,
by eating a receipt in full.



                              35. 
                                
   The uninvited guest Free and easy manners Salutary jokes A
      prodigal son Exit of the glutton  A sudden change in
   fortune Danger of a visit to poor relations Plucking of a
prosperous man A vagabond toilet A substitute for the very fine
 horse Hard travelling The uninvited guest and the patriarchal
   colt A beggar on horseback A catastrophe Exit of the merry
                            vagabond

As CAPTAIN BONNEVILLE and his men were encamped one evening among
the hills near Snake River, seated before their fire, enjoying a
hearty supper, they were suddenly surprised by the visit of an
uninvited guest. He was a ragged, half-naked Indian hunter, armed
with bow and arrows, and had the carcass of a fine buck thrown
across his shoulder. Advancing with an alert step, and free and
easy air, he threw the buck on the ground, and, without waiting
for an invitation, seated himself at their mess, helped himself
without ceremony, and chatted to the right and left in the
liveliest and most unembarrassed manner. No adroit and veteran
dinner hunter of a metropolis could have acquitted himself more
knowingly. The travellers were at first completely taken by
surprise, and could not but admire the facility with which this
ragged cosmopolite made himself at home among them. While they
stared he went on, making the most of the good cheer upon which
he had so fortunately alighted; and was soon elbow deep in "pot
luck," and greased from the tip of his nose to the back of his
ears.

As the company recovered from their surprise, they began to feel
annoyed at this intrusion. Their uninvited guest, unlike the
generality of his tribe, was somewhat dirty as well as ragged and
they had no relish for such a messmate. Heaping up, therefore, an
abundant portion of the "provant" upon a piece of bark, which
served for a dish, they invited him to confine himself thereto,
instead of foraging in the general mess.

He complied with the most accommodating spirit imaginable; and
went on eating and chatting, and laughing and smearing himself,
until his whole countenance shone with grease and good-humor. In
the course of his repast, his attention was caught by the figure
of the gastronome, who, as usual, was gorging himself in dogged
silence. A droll cut of the eye showed either that he knew him of
old, or perceived at once his characteristics. He immediately
made him the butt of his pleasantries; and cracked off two or
three good hits, that caused the sluggish dolt to prick up his
ears, and delighted all the company. From this time, the
uninvited guest was taken into favor; his jokes began to be
relished; his careless, free and easy air, to be considered
singularly amusing; and in the end, he was pronounced by the
travellers one of the merriest companions and most entertaining
vagabonds they had met with in the wilderness.

Supper being over, the redoubtable Shee-wee-she-ouaiter, for such
was the simple name by which he announced himself, declared his
intention of keeping company with the party for a day or two, if
they had no objection; and by way of backing his self-invitation,
presented the carcass of the buck as an earnest of his hunting
abilities. By this time, he had so completely effaced the
unfavorable impression made by his first appearance, that he was
made welcome to the camp, and the Nez Perce guide undertook to
give him lodging for the night. The next morning, at break of
day, he borrowed a gun, and was off among the hills, nor was
anything more seen of him until a few minutes after the party had
encamped for the evening, when he again made his appearance, in
his usual frank, careless manner, and threw down the carcass of
another noble deer, which he had borne on his back for a
considerable distance.

This evening he was the life of the party, and his open
communicative disposition, free from all disguise, soon put them
in possession of his history. He had been a kind of prodigal son
in his native village; living a loose, heedless life, and
disregarding the precepts and imperative commands of the chiefs.
He had, in consequence, been expelled from the village, but, in
nowise disheartened at this banishment, had betaken himself to
the society of the border Indians, and had led a careless,
haphazard, vagabond life, perfectly consonant to his humors;
heedless of the future, so long as he had wherewithal for the
present; and fearing no lack of food, so long as he had the
implements of the chase, and a fair hunting ground.

Finding him very expert as a hunter, and being pleased with his
eccentricities, and his strange and merry humor, Captain
Bonneville fitted him out handsomely as the Nimrod of the party,
who all soon became quite attached to him. One of the earliest
and most signal services he performed, was to exorcise the
insatiate kill-crop that hitherto oppressed the party. In fact,
the doltish Nez Perce, who had seemed so perfectly insensible to
rough treatment of every kind, by which the travellers had
endeavored to elbow him out of their society, could not withstand
the good-humored bantering, and occasionally sharp wit of
She-wee-she. He evidently quailed under his jokes, and sat
blinking like an owl in daylight, when pestered by the flouts and
peckings of mischievous birds. At length his place was found
vacant at meal-time; no one knew when he went off, or whither he
had gone, but he was seen no more, and the vast surplus that
remained when the repast was over, showed what a mighty
gormandizer had departed.

Relieved from this incubus, the little party now went on
cheerily. She-wee-she kept them in fun as well as food. His
hunting was always successful; he was ever ready to render any
assistance in the camp or on the march; while his jokes, his
antics, and the very cut of his countenance, so full of whim and
comicality, kept every one in good-humor.

In this way they journeyed on until they arrived on the banks of
the Immahah, and encamped near to the Nez Perce lodges. Here
She-wee-she took a sudden notion to visit his people, and show
off the state of worldly prosperity to which he had so suddenly
attained. He accordingly departed in the morning, arrayed in
hunter's style, and well appointed with everything benefitting
his vocation. The buoyancy of his gait, the elasticity of his
step, and the hilarity of his countenance, showed that he
anticipated, with chuckling satisfaction, the surprise he was
about to give those who had ejected him from their society in
rags. But what a change was there in his whole appearance when he
rejoined the party in the evening! He came skulking into camp
like a beaten cur, with his tail between his legs. All his finery
was gone; he was naked as when he was born, with the exception of
a scanty flap that answered the purpose of a fig leaf. His
fellow-travellers at first did not know him, but supposed it to
be some vagrant Root Digger sneaking into the camp; but when they
recognized in this forlorn object their prime wag, She-wee-she,
whom they had seen depart in the morning in such high glee and
high feather, they could not contain their merriment, but hailed
him with loud and repeated peals of laughter.

She-wee-she was not of a spirit to be easily cast down; he soon
joined in the merriment as heartily as any one, and seemed to
consider his reverse of fortune an excellent joke. Captain
Bonneville, however, thought proper to check his good-humor, and
demanded, with some degree of sternness, the cause of his altered
condition. He replied in the most natural and self-complacent
style imaginable, "that he had been among his cousins, who were
very poor; they had been delighted to see him; still more
delighted with his good fortune; they had taken him to their
arms; admired his equipments; one had begged for this; another
for that"--in fine, what with the poor devil's inherent
heedlessness, and the real generosity of his disposition, his
needy cousins had succeeded in stripping him of all his clothes
and accoutrements, excepting the fig leaf with which he had
returned to camp.

Seeing his total want of care and forethought, Captain Bonneville
determined to let him suffer a little, in hopes it might prove a
salutary lesson; and, at any rate, to make him no more presents
while in the neighborhood of his needy cousins. He was left,
therefore, to shift for himself in his naked condition; which,
however, did not seem to give him any concern, or to abate one
jot of his good-humor. In the course of his lounging about the
camp, however, he got possession of a deer skin; whereupon,
cutting a slit in the middle, he thrust his head through it, so
that the two ends hung down before and behind, something like a
South American poncho, or the tabard of a herald. These ends he
tied together, under the armpits; and thus arrayed, presented
himself once more before the captain, with an air of perfect
self-satisfaction, as though he thought it impossible for any
fault to be found with his toilet.

A little further journeying brought the travellers to the petty
village of Nez Perces, governed by the worthy and affectionate
old patriarch who had made Captain Bonneville the costly present
of the very fine horse. The old man welcomed them once more to
his village with his usual cordiality, and his respectable squaw
and hopeful son, cherishing grateful recollections of the hatchet
and ear-bobs, joined in a chorus of friendly gratulation.

As the much-vaunted steed, once the joy and pride of this
interesting family, was now nearly knocked up by travelling, and
totally inadequate to the mountain scramble that lay ahead,
Captain Bonneville restored him to the venerable patriarch, with
renewed acknowledgments for the invaluable gift. Somewhat to his
surprise, he was immediately supplied with a fine two years' old
colt in his stead, a substitution which he afterward learnt,
according to Indian custom in such cases, he might have claimed
as a matter of right. We do not find that any after claims were
made on account of this colt. This donation may be regarded,
therefore, as a signal punctilio of Indian honor; but it will be
found that the animal soon proved an unlucky acquisition to the
party.

While at this village, the Nez Perce guide had held consultations
with some of the inhabitants as to the mountain tract the party
were about to traverse. He now began to wear an anxious aspect,
and to indulge in gloomy forebodings. The snow, he had been told,
lay to a great depth in the passes of the mountains, and
difficulties would increase as he proceeded. He begged Captain
Bonneville, therefore, to travel very slowly, so as to keep the
horses in strength and spirit for the hard times they would have
to encounter. The captain surrendered the regulation of the march
entirely to his discretion, and pushed on in the advance, amusing
himself with hunting, so as generally to kill a deer or two in
the course of the day, and arriving, before the rest of the
party, at the spot designated by the guide for the evening's
encampment.

In the meantime, the others plodded on at the heels of the guide,
accompanied by that merry vagabond, She-wee-she. The primitive
garb worn by this droll left all his nether man exposed to the
biting blasts of the mountains. Still his wit was never frozen,
nor his sunshiny temper beclouded; and his innumerable antics and
practical jokes, while they quickened the circulation of his own
blood, kept his companions in high good-humor.

So passed the first day after the departure from the patriarch's.
The second day commenced in the same manner; the captain in the
advance, the rest of the party following on slowly. She-wee-she,
for the greater part of the time, trudged on foot over the snow,
keeping himself warm by hard exercise, and all kinds of crazy
capers. In the height of his foolery, the patriarchal colt,
which, unbroken to the saddle, was suffered to follow on at
large, happened to come within his reach. In a moment, he was on
his back, snapping his fingers, and yelping with delight. The
colt, unused to such a burden, and half wild by nature, fell to
prancing and rearing and snorting and plunging and kicking; and,
at length, set off full speed over the most dangerous ground. As
the route led generally along the steep and craggy sides of the
hills, both horse and horseman were constantly in danger, and
more than once had a hairbreadth escape from deadly peril.
Nothing, however, could daunt this madcap savage. He stuck to the
colt like a plaister [sic], up ridges, down gullies; whooping and
yelling with the wildest glee. Never did beggar on horseback
display more headlong horsemanship. His companions followed him
with their eyes, sometimes laughing, sometimes holding in their
breath at his vagaries, until they saw the colt make a sudden
plunge or start, and pitch his unlucky rider headlong over a
precipice. There was a general cry of horror, and all hastened to
the spot. They found the poor fellow lying among the rocks below,
sadly bruised and mangled. It was almost a miracle that he had
escaped with life. Even in this condition, his merry spirit was
not entirely quelled, and he summoned up a feeble laugh at the
alarm and anxiety of those who came to his relief. He was
extricated from his rocky bed, and a messenger dispatched to
inform Captain Bonneville of the accident. The latter returned
with all speed, and encamped the party at the first convenient
spot. Here the wounded man was stretched upon buffalo skins, and
the captain, who officiated on all occasions as doctor and
surgeon to the party, proceeded to examine his wounds. The
principal one was a long and deep gash in the thigh, which
reached to the bone. Calling for a needle and thread, the captain
now prepared to sew up the wound, admonishing the patient to
submit to the operation with becoming fortitude. His gayety was
at an end; he could no longer summon up even a forced smile; and,
at the first puncture of the needle, flinched so piteously, that
the captain was obliged to pause, and to order him a powerful
dose of alcohol. This somewhat rallied up his spirit and warmed
his heart; all the time of the operation, however, he kept his
eyes riveted on the wound, with his teeth set, and a whimsical
wincing of the countenance, that occasionally gave his nose
something of its usual comic curl.

When the wound was fairly closed, the captain washed it with rum,
and administered a second dose of the same to the patient, who
was tucked in for the night, and advised to compose himself to
sleep. He was restless and uneasy, however; repeatedly expressing
his fears that his leg would be so much swollen the next day, as
to prevent his proceeding with the party; nor could he be
quieted, until the captain gave a decided opinion favorable to
his wishes.

Early the next morning, a gleam of his merry humor returned, on
finding that his wounded limb retained its natural proportions.
On attempting to use it, however, he found himself unable to
stand. He made several efforts to coax himself into a belief that
he might still continue forward; but at length, shook his head
despondingly, and said, that "as he had but one leg," it was all
in vain to attempt a passage of the mountain.

Every one grieved to part with so boon a companion, and under
such disastrous circumstances. He was once more clothed and
equipped, each one making him some parting present. He was then
helped on a horse, which Captain Bonneville presented to him; and
after many parting expressions of good will on both sides, set
off on his return to his old haunts; doubtless, to be once more
plucked by his affectionate but needy cousins.



                              36. 
                                
 The difficult mountain A smoke and consultation The captain's
speech An icy turnpike  Danger of a false step  Arrival on Snake
         River  Return to Portneuf  Meeting of comrades

CONTINUING THEIR JOURNEY UP the course of the Immahah, the
travellers found, as they approached the headwaters, the snow
increased in quantity, so as to lie two feet deep. They were
again obliged, therefore, to beat down a path for their horses,
sometimes travelling on the icy surface of the stream. At length
they reached the place where they intended to scale the
mountains; and, having broken a pathway to the foot, were
agreeably surprised to find that the wind had drifted the snow
from off the side, so that they attained the summit with but
little difficulty. Here they encamped, with the intention of
beating a track through the mountains. A short experiment,
however, obliged them to give up the attempt, the snow lying in
vast drifts, often higher than the horses' heads.

Captain Bonneville now took the two Indian guides, and set out to
reconnoitre the neighborhood. Observing a high peak which
overtopped the rest, he climbed it, and discovered from the
summit a pass about nine miles long, but so heavily piled with
snow, that it seemed impracticable. He now lit a pipe, and,
sitting down with the two guides, proceeded to hold a
consultation after the Indian mode. For a long while they all
smoked vigorously and in silence, pondering over the subject
matter before them. At length a discussion commenced, and the
opinion in which the two guides concurred was, that the horses
could not possibly cross the snows. They advised, therefore, that
the party should proceed on foot, and they should take the horses
back to the village, where they would be well taken care of until
Captain Bonneville should send for them. They urged this advice
with great earnestness; declaring that their chief would be
extremely angry, and treat them severely, should any of the
horses of his good friends, the white men, be lost, in crossing
under their guidance; and that, therefore, it was good they
should not attempt it.

Captain Bonneville sat smoking his pipe, and listening to them
with Indian silence and gravity. When they had finished, he
replied to them in their own style of language.

"My friends," said he, "I have seen the pass, and have listened
to your words; you have little hearts. When troubles and dangers
lie in your way, you turn your backs. That is not the way with my
nation. When great obstacles present, and threaten to keep them
back, their hearts swell, and they push forward. They love to
conquer difficulties. But enough for the present. Night is coming
on; let us return to our camp."

He moved on, and they followed in silence. On reaching the camp,
he found the men extremely discouraged. One of their number had
been surveying the neighborhood, and seriously assured them that
the snow was at least a hundred feet deep. The captain cheered
them up, and diffused fresh spirit in them by his example. Still
he was much perplexed how to proceed. About dark there was a
slight drizzling rain. An expedient now suggested itself. This
was to make two light sleds, place the packs on them, and drag
them to the other side of the mountain, thus forming a road in
the wet snow, which, should it afterward freeze, would be
sufficiently hard to bear the horses. This plan was promptly put
into execution; the sleds were constructed, the heavy baggage was
drawn backward and forward until the road was beaten, when they
desisted from their fatiguing labor. The night turned out clear
and cold, and by morning, their road was incrusted with ice
sufficiently strong for their purpose. They now set out on their
icy turnpike, and got on well enough, excepting that now and then
a horse would sidle out of the track, and immediately sink up to
the neck. Then came on toil and difficulty, and they would be
obliged to haul up the floundering animal with ropes. One, more
unlucky than the rest, after repeated falls, had to be abandoned
in the snow. Notwithstanding these repeated delays, they
succeeded, before the sun had acquired sufficient power to thaw
the snow, in getting all the rest of their horses safely to the
other side of the mountain.

Their difficulties and dangers, however, were not yet at an end.
They had now to descend, and the whole surface of the snow was
glazed with ice. It was necessary; therefore, to wait until the
warmth of the sun should melt the glassy crust of sleet, and give
them a foothold in the yielding snow. They had a frightful
warning of the danger of any movement while the sleet remained. A
wild young mare, in her restlessness, strayed to the edge of a
declivity. One slip was fatal to her; she lost her balance,
careered with headlong velocity down the slippery side of the
mountain for more than two thousand feet, and was dashed to
pieces at the bottom. When the travellers afterward sought the
carcass to cut it up for food, they found it torn and mangled in
the most horrible manner.

It was quite late in the evening before the party descended to
the ultimate skirts of the snow. Here they planted large logs
below them to prevent their sliding down, and encamped for the
night. The next day they succeeded in bringing down their baggage
to the encampment; then packing all up regularly, and loading
their horses, they once more set out briskly and cheerfully, and
in the course of the following day succeeded in getting to a
grassy region.

Here their Nez Perce guides declared that all the difficulties of
the mountains were at an end, and their course was plain and
simple, and needed no further guidance; they asked leave,
therefore, to return home. This was readily granted, with many
thanks and presents for their faithful services. They took a long
farewell smoke with their white friends, after which they mounted
their horses and set off, exchanging many farewells and kind
wishes.

On the following day, Captain Bonneville completed his journey
down the mountain, and encamped on the borders of Snake River,
where he found the grass in great abundance and eight inches in
height. In this neighborhood, he saw on the rocky banks of the
river several prismoids of basaltes, rising to the height of
fifty or sixty feet.

Nothing particularly worthy of note occurred during several days
as the party proceeded up along Snake River and across its
tributary streams. After crossing Gun Creek, they met with
various signs that white people were in the neighborhood, and
Captain Bonneville made earnest exertions to discover whether
they were any of his own people, that he might join them. He soon
ascertained that they had been starved out of this tract of
country, and had betaken themselves to the buffalo region,
whither he now shaped his course. In proceeding along Snake
River, he found small hordes of Shoshonies lingering upon the
minor streams, and living upon trout and other fish, which they
catch in great numbers at this season in fish-traps. The greater
part of the tribe, however, had penetrated the mountains to hunt
the elk, deer, and ahsahta or bighorn.

On the 12th of May, Captain Bonneville reached the Portneuf
River, in the vicinity of which he had left the winter encampment
of his company on the preceding Christmas day. He had then
expected to be back by the beginning of March, but circumstances
had detained him upward of two months beyond the time, and the
winter encampment must long ere this have been broken up. Halting
on the banks of the Portneuf, he dispatched scouts a few miles
above, to visit the old camping ground and search for signals of
the party, or of their whereabouts, should they actually have
abandoned the spot. They returned without being able to ascertain
anything.

Being now destitute of provisions, the travellers found it
necessary to make a short hunting excursion after buffalo. They
made caches, therefore, on an island in the river, in which they
deposited all their baggage, and then set out on their
expedition. They were so fortunate as to kill a couple of fine
bulls, and cutting up the carcasses, determined to husband this
stock of provisions with the most miserly care, lest they should
again be obliged to venture into the open and dangerous hunting
grounds. Returning to their island on the 18th of May, they found
that the wolves had been at the caches, scratched up the
contents, and scattered them in every direction. They now
constructed a more secure one, in which they deposited their
heaviest articles, and then descended Snake River again, and
encamped just above the American Falls. Here they proceeded to
fortify themselves, intending to remain here, and give their
horses an opportunity to recruit their strength with good
pasturage, until it should be time to set out for the annual
rendezvous in Bear River valley.

On the first of June they descried four men on the other side of
the river, opposite to the camp, and, having attracted their
attention by a discharge of rifles, ascertained to their joy that
they were some of their own people. From these men Captain
Bonneville learned that the whole party which he had left in the
preceding month of December were encamped on Blackfoot River, a
tributary of Snake River, not very far above the Portneuf.
Thither he proceeded with all possible dispatch, and in a little
while had the pleasure of finding himself once more surrounded by
his people, who greeted his return among them in the heartiest
manner; for his long-protracted absence had convinced them that
he and his three companions had been cut off by some hostile
tribe.

The party had suffered much during his absence. They had been
pinched by famine and almost starved, and had been forced to
repair to the caches at Salmon River. Here they fell in with the
Blackfeet bands, and considered themselves fortunate in being
able to retreat from the dangerous neighborhood without
sustaining any loss.

Being thus reunited, a general treat from Captain Bonneville to
his men was a matter of course. Two days, therefore, were given
up to such feasting and merriment as their means and situation
afforded. What was wanting in good cheer was made up in good
will; the free trappers in particular, distinguished themselves
on the occasion, and the saturnalia was enjoyed with a hearty
holiday spirit, that smacked of the game flavor of the
wilderness.



                              37. 
                                
  Departure for the rendezvous A war party of Blackfeet A mock
bustle Sham fires at night Warlike precautions Dangers of a night
 attack  A panic among horses Cautious march The Beer Springs A
mock carousel Skirmishing with buffaloes A buffalo bait Arrival
          at the rendezvous  Meeting of various bands

AFTER THE TWO DAYS of festive indulgence, Captain Bonneville
broke up the encampment, and set out with his motley crew of
hired and free trappers, half-breeds, Indians, and squaws, for
the main rendezvous in Bear River valley. Directing his course up
the Blackfoot River, he soon reached the hills among which it
takes its rise. Here, while on the march, he descried from the
brow of a hill, a war party of about sixty Blackfeet, on the
plain immediately below him. His situation was perilous; for the
greater part of his people were dispersed in various directions.
Still, to betray hesitation or fear would be to discover his
actual weakness, and to invite attack. He assumed, instantly,
therefore, a belligerent tone; ordered the squaws to lead the
horses to a small grove of ashen trees, and unload and tie them;
and caused a great bustle to be made by his scanty handful; the
leaders riding hither and thither, and vociferating with all
their might, as if a numerous force was getting under way for an
attack.

To keep up the deception as to his force, he ordered, at night, a
number of extra fires to be made in his camp, and kept up a
vigilant watch. His men were all directed to keep themselves
prepared for instant action. In such cases the experienced
trapper sleeps in his clothes, with his rifle beside him, the
shot-belt and powder-flask on the stock: so that, in case of
alarm, he can lay his hand upon the whole of his equipment at
once, and start up, completely armed.

Captain Bonneville was also especially careful to secure the
horses, and set a vigilant guard upon them; for there lies the
great object and principal danger of a night attack. The grand
move of the lurking savage is to cause a panic among the horses.
In such cases one horse frightens another, until all are alarmed,
and struggle to break loose. In camps where there are great
numbers of Indians, with their horses, a night alarm of the kind
is tremendous. The running of the horses that have broken loose;
the snorting, stamping, and rearing of those which remain fast;
the howling of dogs; the yelling of Indians; the scampering of
white men, and red men, with their guns; the overturning of
lodges, and trampling of fires by the horses; the flashes of the
fires, lighting up forms of men and steeds dashing through the
gloom, altogether make up one of the wildest scenes of confusion
imaginable. In this way, sometimes, all the horses of a camp
amounting to several hundred will be frightened off in a single
night.

The night passed off without any disturbance; but there was no
likelihood that a war party of Blackfeet, once on the track of a
camp where there was a chance for spoils, would fail to hover
round it. The captain, therefore, continued to maintain the most
vigilant precautions; throwing out scouts in the advance, and on
every rising ground.

In the course of the day he arrived at the plain of white clay,
already mentioned, surrounded by the mineral springs, called Beer
Springs, by the trappers.  Here the men all halted to have a
regale.  In a few moments every spring had its jovial knot of
hard drinkers, with tin cup in hand, indulging in a mock carouse;
quaffing, pledging, toasting, bandying jokes, singing drinking
songs, and uttering peals of laughter, until it seemed as if
their imaginations had given potency to the beverage, and cheated
them into a fit of intoxication. Indeed, in the excitement of the
moment, they were loud and extravagant in their commendations of
"the mountain tap"; elevating it above every beverage produced
from hops or malt. It was a singular and fantastic scene; suited
to a region where everything is strange and peculiar:--These
groups of trappers, and hunters, and Indians, with their wild
costumes, and wilder countenances; their boisterous gayety, and
reckless air; quaffing, and making merry round these sparkling
fountains; while beside them lay their weep ons, ready to be
snatched up for instant service. Painters are fond of
representing banditti at their rude and picturesque carousels;
but here were groups, still more rude and picturesque; and it
needed but a sudden onset of Blackfeet, and a quick transition
from a fantastic revel to a furious melee, to have rendered this
picture of a trapper's life complete.

The beer frolic, however, passed off without any untoward
circumstance; and, unlike most drinking bouts, left neither
headache nor heartache behind. Captain Bonneville now directed
his course up along Bear River; amusing himself, occasionally,
with hunting the buffalo, with which the country was covered.
Sometimes, when he saw a huge bull taking his repose in a
prairie, he would steal along a ravine, until close upon him;
then rouse him from his meditations with a pebble, and take a
shot at him as he started up. Such is the quickness with which
this animal springs upon his legs, that it is not easy to
discover the muscular process by which it is effected. The horse
rises first upon his fore legs; and the domestic cow, upon her
hinder limbs; but the buffalo bounds at once from a couchant to
an erect position, with a celerity that baffles the eye. Though
from his bulk, and rolling gait, he does not appear to run with
much swiftness; yet, it takes a stanch horse to overtake him,
when at full speed on level ground; and a buffalo cow is still
fleeter in her motion.

Among the Indians and half-breeds of the party, were several
admirable horsemen and bold hunters; who amused themselves with a
grotesque kind of buffalo bait. Whenever they found a huge bull
in the plains, they prepared for their teasing and barbarous
sport. Surrounding him on horseback, they would discharge their
arrows at him in quick succession, goading him to make an attack;
which, with a dexterous movement of the horse, they would easily
avoid. In this way, they hovered round him, feathering him with
arrows, as he reared and plunged about, until he was bristled all
over like a porcupine. When they perceived in him signs of
exhaustion, and he could no longer be provoked to make battle,
they would dismount from their horses, approach him in the rear,
and seizing him by the tail, jerk him from side to side, and drag
him backward; until the frantic animal, gathering fresh strength
from fury, would break from them, and rush, with flashing eyes
and a hoarse bellowing, upon any enemy in sight; but in a little
while, his transient excitement at an end, would pitch headlong
on the ground, and expire. The arrows were then plucked forth,
the tongue cut out and preserved as a dainty, and the carcass
left a banquet for the wolves.

Pursuing his course up Bear River, Captain Bonneville arrived, on
the 13th of June, at the Little Snake Lake; where he encamped for
four or five days, that he might examine its shores and outlets.
The latter, he found extremely muddy, and so surrounded by swamps
and quagmires, that he was obliged to construct canoes of rushes,
with which to explore them. The mouths of all the streams which
fall into this lake from the west, are marshy and inconsiderable;
but on the east side, there is a beautiful beach, broken,
occasionally, by high and isolated bluffs, which advance upon the
lake, and heighten the character of the scenery. The water is
very shallow, but abounds with trout, and other small fish.

Having finished his survey of the lake, Captain Bonneville
proceeded on his journey, until on the banks of the Bear River,
some distance higher up, he came upon the party which he had
detached a year before, to circumambulate the Great Salt Lake,
and ascertain its extent, and the nature of its shores. They had
been encamped here about twenty days; and were greatly rejoiced
at meeting once more with their comrades, from whom they had so
long been separated. The first inquiry of Captain Bonneville was
about the result of their journey, and the information they had
procured as to the Great Salt Lake; the object of his intense
curiosity and ambition. The substance of their report will be
found in the following chapter.



                              38. 
                                
Plan of the Salt Lake expedition Great sandy deserts Sufferings
     from thirst Ogden's River  Trails and smoke of lurking
savages Thefts at night  A trapper's revenge Alarms of a guilty
  conscience  A murderous victory Californian mountains Plains
 along the Pacific Arrival at Monterey Account of the place and
         neighborhood Lower California  Its extent The
   Peninsula Soil Climate  Production Its settlements by the
 Jesuits Their sway over the Indians Their expulsion Ruins of a
         missionary establishment Sublime scenery Upper
  California Missions Their power and policy  Resources of the
               country Designs of foreign nations

IT WAS ON THE 24TH of July, in the preceding year (1833), that
the brigade of forty men set out from Green River valley, to
explore the Great Salt Lake.  They were to make the complete
circuit of it, trapping on all the streams which should fall in
their way, and to keep journals and make charts, calculated to
impart a knowledge of the lake and the surrounding country. All
the resources of Captain Bonneville had been tasked to fit out
this favorite expedition. The country lying to the southwest of
the mountains, and ranging down to California, was as yet almost
unknown; being out of the buffalo range, it was untraversed by
the trapper, who preferred those parts of the wilderness where
the roaming herds of that species of animal gave him
comparatively an abundant and luxurious life. Still it was said
the deer, the elk, and the bighorn were to be found there, so
that, with a little diligence and economy, there was no danger of
lacking food. As a precaution, however, the party halted on Bear
River and hunted for a few days, until they had laid in a supply
of dried buffalo meat and venison; they then passed by the head
waters of the Cassie River, and soon found themselves launched on
an immense sandy desert. Southwardly, on their left, they beheld
the Great Salt Lake, spread out like a sea, but they found no
stream running into it. A desert extended around them, and
stretched to the southwest, as far as the eye could reach,
rivalling the deserts of Asia and Africa in sterility. There was
neither tree, nor herbage, nor spring, nor pool, nor running
stream, nothing but parched wastes of sand, where horse and rider
were in danger of perishing.

Their sufferings, at length, became so great that they abandoned
their intended course, and made towards a range of snowy
mountains, brightening in the north, where they hoped to find
water. After a time, they came upon a small stream leading
directly towards these mountains. Having quenched their burning
thirst, and refreshed themselves and their weary horses for a
time, they kept along this stream, which gradually increased in
size, being fed by numerous brooks. After approaching the
mountains, it took a sweep toward the southwest, and the
travellers still kept along it, trapping beaver as they went, on
the flesh of which they subsisted for the present, husbanding
their dried meat for future necessities.

The stream on which they had thus fallen is called by some, Mary
River, but is more generally known as Ogden's River, from Mr.
Peter Ogden, an enterprising and intrepid leader of the Hudson's
Bay Company, who first explored it. The wild and half-desert
region through which the travellers were passing, is wandered
over by hordes of Shoshokoes, or Root Diggers, the forlorn branch
of the Snake tribe. They are a shy people, prone to keep aloof
from the stranger. The travellers frequently met with their
trails, and saw the smoke of their fires rising in various parts
of the vast landscape, so that they knew there were great numbers
in the neighborhood, but scarcely ever were any of them to be met
with.

After a time, they began to have vexatious proofs that, if the
Shoshokoes were quiet by day, they were busy at night. The camp
was dogged by these eavesdroppers; scarce a morning, but various
articles were missing, yet nothing could be seen of the
marauders. What particularly exasperated the hunters, was to have
their traps stolen from the streams. One morning, a trapper of a
violent and savage character, discovering that his traps had been
carried off in the night, took a horrid oath to kill the first
Indian he should meet, innocent or guilty. As he was returning
with his comrades to camp, he beheld two unfortunate Diggers,
seated on the river bank, fishing. Advancing upon them, he
levelled his rifle, shot one upon the spot, and flung his
bleeding body into the stream. The other Indian fled and was
suffered to escape. Such is the indifference with which acts of
violence are regarded in the wilderness, and such the immunity an
armed ruffian enjoys beyond the barriers of the laws, that the
only punishment this desperado met with, was a rebuke from the
leader of the party. The trappers now left the scene of this
infamous tragedy, and kept on westward, down the course of the
river, which wound along with a range of mountains on the right
hand, and a sandy, but somewhat fertile plain, on the left. As
they proceeded, they beheld columns of smoke rising, as before,
in various directions, which their guilty consciences now
converted into alarm signals, to arouse the country and collect
the scattered bands for vengeance.

After a time, the natives began to make their appearance, and
sometimes in considerable numbers, but always pacific; the
trappers, however, suspected them of deep-laid plans to draw them
into ambuscades; to crowd into and get possession of their camp,
and various other crafty and daring conspiracies, which, it is
probable, never entered into the heads of the poor savages. In
fact, they are a simple, timid, inoffensive race, unpractised in
warfare, and scarce provided with any weapons, excepting for the
chase. Their lives are passed in the great sand plains and along
the adjacent rivers; they subsist sometimes on fish, at other
times on roots and the seeds of a plant, called the cat's-tail.
They are of the same kind of people that Captain Bonneville found
upon Snake River, and whom he found so mild and inoffensive.

The trappers, however, had persuaded themselves that they were
making their way through a hostile country, and that implacable
foes hung round their camp or beset their path, watching for an
opportunity to surprise them. At length, one day they came to the
banks of a stream emptying into Ogden's River, which they were
obliged to ford. Here a great number of Shoshokoes were posted on
the opposite bank. Persuaded they were there with hostile intent,
they advanced upon them, levelled their rifles, and killed twenty
five of them upon the spot. The rest fled to a short distance,
then halted and turned about, howling and whining like wolves,
and uttering the most piteous wailings. The trappers chased them
in every direction; the poor wretches made no defence, but fled
with terror; neither does it appear from the accounts of the
boasted victors, that a weapon had been wielded or a weapon
launched by the Indians throughout the affair. We feel perfectly
convinced that the poor savages had no hostile intention, but had
merely gathered together through motives of curiosity, as others
of their tribe had done when Captain Bonneville and his
companions passed along Snake River.

The trappers continued down Ogden's River, until they ascertained
that it lost itself in a great swampy lake, to which there was no
apparent discharge. They then struck directly westward, across
the great chain of California mountains intervening between these
interior plains and the shores of the Pacific.

For three and twenty days they were entangled among these
mountains, the peaks and ridges of which are in many places
covered with perpetual snow. Their passes and defiles present the
wildest scenery, partaking of the sublime rather than the
beautiful, and abounding with frightful precipices. The
sufferings of the travellers among these savage mountains were
extreme: for a part of the time they were nearly starved; at
length, they made their way through them, and came down upon the
plains of New California, a fertile region extending along the
coast, with magnificent forests, verdant savannas, and prairies
that looked like stately parks. Here they found deer and other
game in abundance, and indemnified themselves for past famine.
They now turned toward the south, and passing numerous small
bands of natives, posted upon various streams, arrived at the
Spanish village and post of Monterey.

This is a small place, containing about two hundred houses,
situated in latitude 37  north. It has a capacious bay, with
indifferent anchorage. The surrounding country is extremely
fertile, especially in the valleys; the soil is richer, the
further you penetrate into the interior, and the climate is
described as a perpetual spring. Indeed, all California,
extending along the Pacific Ocean from latitude 19  30' to 42 
north, is represented as one of the most fertile and beautiful
regions in North America.

Lower California, in length about seven hundred miles, forms a
great peninsula, which crosses the tropics and terminates in the
torrid zone. It is separated from the mainland by the Gulf of
California, sometimes called the Vermilion Sea; into this gulf
empties the Colorado of the West, the Seeds-ke-dee, or Green
River, as it is also sometimes called. The peninsula is traversed
by stern and barren mountains, and has many sandy plains, where
the only sign of vegetation is the cylindrical cactus growing
among the clefts of the rocks. Wherever there is water, however,
and vegetable mould, the ardent nature of the climate quickens
everything into astonishing fertility. There are valleys
luxuriant with the rich and beautiful productions of the tropics.
There the sugar-cane and indigo plant attain a perfection
unequalled in any other part of North America. There flourish the
olive, the fig, the date, the orange, the citron, the
pomegranate, and other fruits belonging to the voluptuous
climates of the south; with grapes in abundance, that yield a
generous wine. In the interior are salt plains; silver mines and
scanty veins of gold are said, likewise, to exist; and pearls of
a beautiful water are to be fished upon the coast.

The peninsula of California was settled in 1698, by the Jesuits,
who, certainly, as far as the natives were concerned, have
generally proved the most beneficent of colonists. In the present
instance, they gained and maintained a footing in the country
without the aid of military force, but solely by religious
influence. They formed a treaty, and entered into the most
amicable relations with the natives, then numbering from
twenty-five to thirty thousand souls, and gained a hold upon
their affections, and a control over their minds, that effected a
complete change in their condition. They built eleven missionary
establishments in the various valleys of the peninsula, which
formed rallying places for the surrounding savages, where they
gathered together as sheep into the fold, and surrendered
themselves and their consciences into the hands of these
spiritual pastors. Nothing, we are told, could exceed the
implicit and affectionate devotion of the Indian converts to the
Jesuit fathers, and the Catholic faith was disseminated widely
through the wilderness. The growing power and influence of the
Jesuits in the New World at length excited the jealousy of the
Spanish government, and they were banished from the colonies. The
governor, who arrived at California to expel them, and to take
charge of the country, expected to find a rich and powerful
fraternity, with immense treasures hoarded in their missions, and
an army of Indians ready to defend them. On the contrary, he
beheld a few venerable silverhaired priests coming humbly forward
to meet him, followed by a throng of weeping, but submissive
natives. The heart of the governor, it is said, was so touched by
this unexpected sight, that he shed tears; but he had to execute
his orders. The Jesuits were accompanied to the place of their
embarkation by their simple and affectionate parishioners, who
took leave of them with tears and sobs. Many of the latter
abandoned their heriditary abodes, and wandered off to join their
southern brethren, so that but a remnant remained in the
peninsula. The Franciscans immediately succeeded the Jesuits, and
subsequently the Dominicans; but the latter managed their affairs
ill. But two of the missionary establishments are at present
occupied by priests; the rest are all in ruins, excepting one,
which remains a monument of the former power and prosperity of
the order. This is a noble edifice, once the seat of the chief of
the resident Jesuits. It is situated in a beautiful valley, about
half way between the Gulf of California and the broad ocean, the
peninsula being here about sixty miles wide. The edifice is of
hewn stone, one story high, two hundred and ten feet in front,
and about fifty-five feet deep. The walls are six feet thick, and
sixteen feet high, with a vaulted roof of stone, about two feet
and a half in thickness. It is now abandoned and desolate; the
beautiful valley is without an inhabitant-- not a human being
resides within thirty miles of the place!

In approaching this deserted mission-house from the south, the
traveller passes over the mountain of San Juan, supposed to be
the highest peak in the Californias. From this lofty eminence, a
vast and magnificent prospect unfolds itself; the great Gulf of
California, with the dark blue sea beyond, studded with islands;
and in another direction, the immense lava plain of San Gabriel.
The splendor of the climate gives an Italian effect to the
immense prospect. The sky is of a deep blue color, and the
sunsets are often magnificent beyond description. Such is a
slight and imperfect sketch of this remarkable peninsula.

Upper California extends from latitude 31  10' to 42  on the
Pacific, and inland, to the great chain of snow-capped mountains
which divide it from the sand plains of the interior. There are
about twenty-one missions in this province, most of which were
established about fifty years since, and are generally under the
care of the Franciscans. These exert a protecting sway over about
thirty-five thousand Indian converts, who reside on the lands
around the mission houses. Each of these houses has fifteen miles
square of land allotted to it, subdivided into small lots,
proportioned to the number of Indian converts attached to the
mission. Some are enclosed with high walls; but in general they
are open hamlets, composed of rows of huts, built of sunburnt
bricks; in some instances whitewashed and roofed with tiles. Many
of them are far in the interior, beyond the reach of all military
protection, and dependent entirely on the good will of the
natives, which never fails them. They have made considerable
progress in teaching the Indians the useful arts. There are
native tanners, shoemakers, weavers, blacksmiths, stonecutters,
and other artificers attached to each establishment. Others are
taught husbandry, and the rearing of cattle and horses; while the
females card and spin wool, weave, and perform the other duties
allotted to their sex in civilized life. No social intercourse is
allowed between the unmarried of the opposite sexes after working
hours; and at night they are locked up in separate apartments,
and the keys delivered to the priests.

The produce of the lands, and all the profits arising from sales,
are entirely at the disposal of the priests; whatever is not
required for the support of the missions, goes to augment a fund
which is under their control. Hides and tallow constitute the
principal riches of the missions, and, indeed, the main commerce
of the country. Grain might be produced to an unlimited extent at
the establishments, were there a sufficient market for it. Olives
and grapes are also reared at the missions.

Horses and horned cattle abound throughout all this region; the
former may be purchased at from three to five dollars, but they
are of an inferior breed. Mules, which are here of a large size
and of valuable qualities, cost from seven to ten dollars.

There are several excellent ports along this coast. San Diego,
San Barbara, Monterey, the bay of San Francisco, and the northern
port of Bondago; all afford anchorage for ships of the largest
class. The port of San Francisco is too well known to require
much notice in this place. The entrance from the sea is
sixty-seven fathoms deep, and within, whole navies might ride
with perfect safety. Two large rivers, which take their rise in
mountains two or three hundred miles to the east, and run through
a country unsurpassed for soil and climate, empty themselves into
the harbor. The country around affords admirable timber for
ship-building. In a word, this favored port combines advantages
which not only fit it for a grand naval depot, but almost render
it capable of being made the dominant military post of these
seas.

Such is a feeble outline of the Californian coast and country,
the value of which is more and more attracting the attention of
naval powers. The Russians have always a ship of war upon this
station, and have already encroached upon the Californian
boundaries, by taking possession of the port of Bondago, and
fortifying it with several guns. Recent surveys have likewise
been made, both by the Russians and the English; and we have
little doubt, that, at no very distant day, this neglected, and,
until recently, almost unknown region, will be found to possess
sources of wealth sufficient to sustain a powerful and prosperous
empire. Its inhabitants, themselves, are but little aware of its
real riches; they have not enterprise sufficient to acquaint
themselves with a vast interior that lies almost a terra
incognita; nor have they the skill and industry to cultivate
properly the fertile tracts along the coast; nor to prosecute
that foreign commerce which brings all the resources of a country
into profitable action.



                              39. 
                                
Gay life at Monterey Mexican horsemen A bold dragoon Use of the
    lasso Vaqueros Noosing a bear Fight between a bull and a
  bear Departure from Monterey Indian horse stealers Outrages
 committed by the travellers Indignation of Captain Bonneville 

THE WANDERING BAND of trappers was well received at Monterey, the
inhabitants were desirous of retaining them among them, and
offered extravagant wages to such as were acquainted with any
mechanic art. When they went into the country, too, they were
kindly treated by the priests at the missions; who are always
hospitable to strangers, whatever may be their rank or religion.
They had no lack of provisions; being permitted to kill as many
as they pleased of the vast herds of cattle that graze the
country, on condition, merely, of rendering the hides to the
owners. They attended bull-fights and horseraces; forgot all the
purposes of their expedition; squandered away, freely, the
property that did not belong to them; and, in a word, revelled in
a perfect fool's paradise.

What especially delighted them was the equestrian skill of the
Californians. The vast number and the cheapness of the horses in
this country makes every one a cavalier. The Mexicans and
halfbreeds of California spend the greater part of their time in
the saddle. They are fearless riders; and their daring feats upon
unbroken colts and wild horses, astonished our trappers; though
accustomed to the bold riders of the prairies.

A Mexican horseman has much resemblance, in many points, to the
equestrians of Old Spain; and especially to the vain-glorious
caballero of Andalusia. A Mexican dragoon, for instance, is
represented as arrayed in a round blue jacket, with red cuffs and
collar; blue velvet breeches, unbuttoned at the knees to show his
white stockings; bottinas of deer skin; a round-crowned
Andalusian hat, and his hair cued. On the pommel of his saddle,
he carries balanced a long musket, with fox skin round the lock.
He is cased in a cuirass of double-fold deer skin, and carries a
bull's hide shield; he is forked in a Moorish saddle, high before
and behind; his feet are thrust into wooden box stirrups, of
Moorish fashion, and a tremendous pair of iron spurs, fastened by
chains, jingle at his heels. Thus equipped, and suitably mounted,
he considers himself the glory of California, and the terror of
the universe.

The Californian horsemen seldom ride out without the laso [sic];
that is to say, a long coil of cord, with a slip noose; with
which they are expert, almost to a miracle. The laso, now almost
entirely confined to Spanish America, is said to be of great
antiquity; and to have come, originally, from the East. It was
used, we are told, by a pastoral people of Persian descent; of
whom eight thousand accompanied the army of Xerxes. By the
Spanish Americans, it is used for a variety of purposes; and
among others, for hauling wood. Without dismounting, they cast
the noose around a log, and thus drag it to their houses. The
vaqueros, or Indian cattle drivers, have also learned the use of
the laso from the Spaniards; and employ it to catch the half-wild
cattle by throwing it round their horns.

The laso is also of great use in furnishing the public with a
favorite, though barbarous sport; the combat between a bear and a
wild bull. For this purpose, three or four horsemen sally forth
to some wood, frequented by bears, and, depositing the carcass of
a bullock, hide themselves in the vicinity. The bears are soon
attracted by the bait. As soon as one, fit for their purpose,
makes his appearance, they run out, and with the laso,
dexterously noose him by either leg. After dragging him at full
speed until he is fatigued, they secure him more effectually; and
tying him on the carcass of the bullock, draw him in triumph to
the scene of action. By this time, he is exasperated to such
frenzy, that they are sometimes obliged to throw cold water on
him, to moderate his fury; and dangerous would it be, for horse
and rider, were he, while in this paroxysm, to break his bonds.

A wild bull, of the fiercest kind, which has been caught and
exasperated in the same manner, is now produced; and both animals
are turned loose in the arena of a small amphitheatre. The mortal
fight begins instantly; and always, at first, to the disadvantage
of Bruin; fatigued, as he is, by his previous rough riding.
Roused, at length, by the repeated goring of the bull, he seizes
his muzzle with his sharp claws, and clinging to this most
sensitive part, causes him to bellow with rage and agony. In his
heat and fury, the bull lolls out his tongue; this is instantly
clutched by the bear; with a desperate effort he overturns his
huge antagonist; and then dispatches him without difficulty.

Beside this diversion, the travellers were likewise regaled with
bull-fights, in the genuine style of Old Spain; the Californians
being considered the best bull-fighters in the Mexican dominions.

After a considerable sojourn at Monterey, spent in these very
edifying, but not very profitable amusements, the leader of this
vagabond party set out with his comrades, on his return journey.
Instead of retracing their steps through the mountains, they
passed round their southern extremity, and, crossing a range of
low hills, found themselves in the sandy plains south of Ogden's
River; in traversing which, they again suffered, grievously, for
want of water.

In the course of their journey, they encountered a party of
Mexicans in pursuit of a gang of natives, who had been stealing
horses. The savages of this part of California are represented as
extremely poor, and armed only with stone-pointed arrows; it
being the wise policy of the Spaniards not to furnish them with
firearms. As they find it difficult, with their blunt shafts, to
kill the wild game of the mountains, they occasionally supply
themselves with food, by entrapping the Spanish horses. Driving
them stealthily into fastnesses and ravines, they slaughter them
without difficulty, and dry their flesh for provisions. Some they
carry off to trade with distant tribes; and in this way, the
Spanish horses pass from hand to hand among the Indians, until
they even find their way across the Rocky Mountains.

The Mexicans are continually on the alert, to intercept these
marauders; but the Indians are apt to outwit them, and force them
to make long and wild expeditions in pursuit of their stolen
horses.

Two of the Mexican party just mentioned joined the band of
trappers, and proved themselves worthy companions. In the course
of their journey through the country frequented by the poor Root
Diggers, there seems to have been an emulation between them,
which could inflict the greatest outrages upon the natives. The
trappers still considered them in the light of dangerous foes;
and the Mexicans, very probably, charged them with the sin of
horse-stealing; we have no other mode of accounting for the
infamous barbarities of which, according to their own story, they
were guilty; hunting the poor Indians like wild beasts, and
killing them without mercy. The Mexicans excelled at this savage
sport; chasing their unfortunate victims at full speed; noosing
them round the neck with their lasos, and then dragging them to
death!

Such are the scanty details of this most disgraceful expedition;
at least, such are all that Captain Bonneville had the patience
to collect; for he was so deeply grieved by the failure of his
plans, and so indignant at the atrocities related to him, that he
turned, with disgust and horror, from the narrators. Had he
exerted a little of the Lynch law of the wilderness, and hanged
those dexterous horsemen in their own lasos, it would but have
been a well-merited and salutary act of retributive justice. The
failure of this expedition was a blow to his pride, and a still
greater blow to his purse. The Great Salt Lake still remained
unexplored; at the same time, the means which had been furnished
so liberally to fit out this favorite expedition, had all been
squandered at Monterey; and the peltries, also, which had been
collected on the way. He would have but scanty returns,
therefore, to make this year, to his associates in the United
States; and there was great danger of their becoming
disheartened, and abandoning the enterprise.



                               40
                                
 Traveller's tales   Indian lurkers   Prognostics of Buckeye  
Signs and portents   The medicine wolf   An alarm   An ambush  
The captured provant   Triumph of Buckeye   Arrival of supplies  
 Grand carouse   Arrangements for the year   Mr. Wyeth and his
                        new-levied band.

THE horror and indignation felt by Captain Bonneville at the
excesses of the Californian adventurers were not participated by
his men; on the contrary, the events of that expedition were
favorite themes in the camp. The heroes of Monterey bore the palm
in all the gossipings among the hunters. Their glowing
descriptions of Spanish bear-baits and bull-fights especially,
were listened to with intense delight; and had another expedition
to California been proposed, the difficulty would have been to
restrain a general eagerness to volunteer.

The captain had not long been at the rendezvous when he
perceived, by various signs, that Indians were lurking in the
neighborhood.  It was evident that the Blackfoot band, which he
had seen when on his march, had dogged his party, and were intent
on mischief. He endeavored to keep his camp on the alert; but it
is as difficult to maintain discipline among trappers at a
rendezvous as among sailors when in port.

Buckeye, the Delaware Indian, was scandalized at this
heedlessness of the hunters when an enemy was at hand, and was
continually preaching up caution.  He was a little prone to play
the prophet, and to deal in signs and portents, which
occasionally excited the merriment of his white comrades. He was
a great dreamer, and believed in charms and talismans, or
medicines, and could foretell the approach of strangers by the
howling or barking of the small prairie wolf. This animal, being
driven by the larger wolves from the carcasses left on the
hunting grounds by the hunters, follows the trail of the fresh
meat carried to the camp. Here the smell of the roast and
broiled, mingling with every breeze, keeps them hovering about
the neighborhood; scenting every blast, turning up their noses
like hungry hounds, and testifying their pinching hunger by long
whining howls and impatient barkings. These are interpreted by
the superstitious Indians into warnings that strangers are at
hand; and one accidental coincidence, like the chance fulfillment
of an almanac prediction, is sufficient to cover a thousand
failures. This little, whining, feast-smelling animal is,
therefore, called among Indians the "medicine wolf;" and such was
one of Buckeye's infallible oracles.

One morning early, the soothsaying Delaware appeared with a
gloomy countenance.  His mind was full of dismal presentiments,
whether from mysterious dreams, or the intimations of the
medicine wolf, does not appear. "Danger," he said, "was lurking
in their path, and there would be some fighting before sunset." 
He was bantered for his prophecy, which was attributed to his
having supped too heartily, and been visited by bad dreams. In
the course of the morning a party of hunters set out in pursuit
of buffaloes, taking with them a mule, to bring home the meat
they should procure. They had been some few hours absent, when
they came clattering at full speed into camp, giving the war cry
of Blackfeet! Blackfeet!  Every one seized his weapon and ran to
learn the cause of the alarm. It appeared that the hunters, as
they were returning leisurely, leading their mule well laden with
prime pieces of buffalo meat, passed close by a small stream
overhung with trees, about two miles from the camp. Suddenly a
party of Blackfeet, who lay in ambush along the thickets, sprang
up with a fearful yell, and discharged a volley at the hunters.
The latter immediately threw themselves flat on their horses, put
them to their speed, and never paused to look behind, until they
found themselves in camp. Fortunately they had escaped without a
wound; but the mule, with all the "provant," had fallen into the
hands of the enemy This was a loss, as well as an insult, not to
be borne. Every man sprang to horse, and with rifle in hand,
galloped off to punish the Blackfeet, and rescue the buffalo
beef. They came too late; the marauders were off, and all that
they found of their mule was the dents of his hoofs, as he had
been conveyed off at a round trot, bearing his savory cargo to
the hills, to furnish the scampering savages with a banquet of
roast meat at the expense of the white men.

The party returned to camp, balked of their revenge, but still
more grievously balked of their supper.  Buckeye, the Delaware,
sat smoking by his fire, perfectly composed. As the hunters
related the particulars of the attack, he listened in silence,
with unruffled countenance, then pointing to the west, "the sun
has not yet set," said he: "Buckeye did not dream like a fool!"

All present now recollected the prediction of the Indian at
daybreak, and were struck with what appeared to be its
fulfilment. They called to mind, also, a long catalogue of
foregone presentiments and predictions made at various times by
the Delaware, and, in their superstitious credulity, began to
consider him a veritable seer; without thinking how natural it
was to predict danger, and how likely to have the prediction
verified in the present instance, when various signs gave
evidence of a lurking foe.

The various bands of Captain Bonneville's company had now been
assembled for some time at the rendezvous; they had had their
fill of feasting, and frolicking, and all the species of wild and
often uncouth merrymaking, which invariably take place on these
occasions. Their horses, as well as themselves, had recovered
from past famine and fatigue, and were again fit for active
service; and an impatience began to manifest itself among the men
once more to take the field, and set off on some wandering
expedition.

At this juncture M. Cerre arrived at the rendezvous at the head
of a supply party, bringing goods and equipments from the States.
This active leader, it will be recollected, had embarked the year
previously in skin-boats on the Bighorn, freighted with the
year's collection of peltries. He had met with misfortune in the
course of his voyage: one of his frail barks being upset, and
part of the furs lost or damaged.

The arrival of the supplies gave the regular finish to the annual
revel. A grand outbreak of wild debauch ensued among the
mountaineers; drinking, dancing, swaggering, gambling,
quarrelling, and fighting. Alcohol, which, from its portable
qualities, containing the greatest quantity of fiery spirit in
the smallest compass, is the only liquor carried across the
mountains, is the inflammatory beverage at these carousals, and
is dealt out to the trappers at four dollars a pint. When
inflamed by this fiery beverage, they cut all kinds of mad pranks
and gambols, and sometimes burn all their clothes in their
drunken bravadoes. A camp, recovering from one of these riotous
revels, presents a seriocomic spectacle; black eyes, broken
heads, lack-lustre visages. Many of the trappers have squandered
in one drunken frolic the hard-earned wages of a year; some have
run in debt, and must toil on to pay for past pleasure. All are
sated with this deep draught of pleasure, and eager to commence
another trapping campaign; for hardship and hard work, spiced
with the stimulants of wild adventures, and topped off with an
annual frantic carousal, is the lot of the restless trapper.

The captain now made his arrangements for the current year. 
Cerre and Walker, with a number of men who had been to
California, were to proceed to St. Louis with the packages of
furs collected during the past year.  Another party, headed by a
leader named Montero, was to proceed to the Crow country, trap
upon its various streams, and among the Black Hills, and thence
to proceed to the Arkansas, where he was to go into winter
quarters.

The captain marked out for himself a widely different course. He
intended to make another expedition, with twenty-three men to the
lower part of the Columbia River, and to proceed to the valley of
the Multnomah; after wintering in those parts, and establishing a
trade with those tribes, among whom he had sojourned on his first
visit, he would return in the spring, cross the Rocky Mountains,
and join Montero and his party in the month of July, at the
rendezvous of the Arkansas; where he expected to receive his
annual supplies from the States.

If the reader will cast his eye upon a map, he may form an idea
of the contempt for distance which a man acquires in this vast
wilderness, by noticing the extent of country comprised in these
projected wanderings.  Just as the different parties were about
to set out on the 3d of July, on their opposite routes, Captain
Bonneville received intelligence that Wyeth, the indefatigable
leader of the salmon-fishing enterprise, who had parted with him
about a year previously on the banks of the Bighorn, to descend
that wild river in a bull boat, was near at hand, with a new
levied band of hunters and trappers, and was on his way once more
to the banks of the Columbia,

As we take much interest in the novel enterprise of this eastern
man," and are pleased with his pushing and persevering spirit;
and as his movements are characteristic of life in the
wilderness, we will, with the reader's permission, while Captain
Bonneville is breaking up his camp and saddling his horses, step
back a year in time, and a few hundred miles in distance to the
bank of the Bighorn, and launch ourselves with Wyeth in his bull
boat; and though his adventurous voyage will take us many
hundreds of miles further down wild and wandering rivers; yet
such is the magic power of the pen, that we promise to bring the
reader safe to Bear River Valley, by the time the last horse is
saddled.



                              41.
                                
                    A voyage in a bull boat.

IT was about the middle of August (1833) that Mr. Nathaniel J.
Wyeth, as the reader may recollect, launched his bull boat at the
foot of the rapids of the Bighorn, and departed in advance of the
parties of Campbell and Captain Bonneville. His boat was made of
three buffalo skins, stretched on a  light frame, stitched
together, and the seams paid with elk tallow and ashes.  It was
eighteen feet long, and about five feet six inches wide, sharp at
each end, with a round bottom, and drew about a foot and a half
of water-a depth too great for these upper rivers, which abound
with shallows and sand-bars. The crew consisted of two
half-breeds, who claimed to be white men, though a mixture of the
French creole and the Shawnee and Potawattomie.  They claimed,
moreover, to be thorough mountaineers, and first-rate hunters -- 
the common boast of these vagabonds of the wilderness.  Besides
these, there was a Nez Perce lad of eighteen years of age, a kind
of servant of all work, whose great aim, like all Indian
servants, was to do as little work as possible; there was,
moreover, a half-breed boy, of thirteen, named Baptiste, son of a
Hudson's Bay trader by a Flathead beauty; who was travelling with
Wyeth to see the world and complete his education.  Add to these,
Mr. Milton Sublette, who went as passenger, and we have the crew
of the little bull boat complete.

It certainly was a slight armament with which to run the gauntlet
through countries swarming with hostile hordes, and a slight bark
to navigate these endless rivers, tossing and pitching down
rapids, running on snags and bumping on sand-bars; such, however,
are the cockle-shells with which these hardy rovers of the
wilderness will attempt the wildest streams; and it is surprising
what rough shocks and thumps these boats will endure, and what
vicissitudes they will live through. Their duration, however, is
but limited; they require frequently to be hauled out of the
water and dried, to prevent the hides from becoming water-soaked;
and they eventually rot and go to pieces.

The course of the river was a little to the north of east; it ran
about five miles an hour, over a gravelly bottom. The banks were
generally alluvial, and thickly grown with cottonwood trees,
intermingled occasionally with ash and plum trees. Now and then
limestone cliffs and promontories advanced upon the river, making
picturesque headlands. Beyond the woody borders rose ranges of
naked hills.

Milton Sublette was the Pelorus of this adventurous bark; being
somewhat experienced in this wild kind of navigation. It required
all his attention and skill, however, to pilot her clear of
sand-bars and snags of sunken trees. There was often, too, a
perplexity of choice, where the river branched into various
channels, among clusters of islands; and occasionally the
voyagers found themselves aground and had to turn back.

It was necessary, also, to keep a wary eye upon the land, for
they were passing through the heart of the Crow country, and were
continually in reach of any ambush that might be lurking on
shore.  The most formidable foes that they saw, however, were
three grizzly bears, quietly promenading along the bank, who
seemed to gaze at them with surprise as they glided by.  Herds of
buffalo, also, were moving about, or lying on the ground, like
cattle in a pasture; excepting such inhabitants as these, a
perfect solitude reigned over the land. There was no sign of
human habitation; for the Crows, as we have already shown, are a
wandering people, a race of hunters and warriors, who live in
tents and on horseback, and are continually on the move.
At night they landed, hauled up their boat to dry, pitched their
tent, and made a rousing fire. Then, as it was the first evening
of their voyage, they indulged in a regale, relishing their
buffalo beef with inspiring alcohol; after which, they slept
soundly, without dreaming of Crows or Blackfeet. Early in the
morning, they again launched the boat and committed themselves to
the stream.

In this way they voyaged for two days without any material
occurrence, excepting a severe thunder storm, which compelled
them to put to shore, and wait until it was passed. On the third
morning they descried some persons at a distance on the river
bank. As they were now, by calculation, at no great distance from
Fort Cass, a trading post of the American Fur Company, they
supposed these might be some of its people. A nearer approach
showed them to be Indians. Descrying a woman apart from the rest,
they landed and accosted her. She informed them that the main
force of the Crow nation, consisting of five bands, under their
several chiefs, were but about two or three miles below, on their
way up along the river. This was unpleasant tidings, but to
retreat was impossible, and the river afforded no hiding place.
They continued forward, therefore, trusting that, as Fort Cass
was so near at hand, the Crows might refrain from any
depredations.

Floating down about two miles further, they came in sight of the
first band, scattered along the river bank, all well mounted;
some armed with guns, others with bows and arrows, and a few with
lances. They made a wildly picturesque appearance managing their
horses with their accustomed dexterity and grace. Nothing can be
more spirited than a band of Crow cavaliers. They are a fine race
of men averaging six feet in height, lithe and active, with
hawks' eyes and Roman noses. The latter feature is common to the
Indians on the east side of the Rocky Mountains; those on the
western side have generally straight or flat noses.

Wyeth would fain have slipped by this cavalcade unnoticed; but
the river, at this place, was not more than ninety yards across;
he was perceived, therefore, and hailed by the vagabond warriors,
and, we presume, in no very choice language; for, among their
other accomplishments, the Crows are famed for possessing a
Billingsgate vocabulary of unrivalled opulence, and for being by
no means sparing of it whenever an occasion offers. Indeed,
though Indians are generally very lofty, rhetorical, and
figurative in their language at all great talks, and high
ceremonials, yet, if trappers and traders may be believed, they
are the most unsavory vagabonds in their ordinary colloquies;
they make no hesitation to call a spade a spade; and when they
once undertake to call hard names, the famous pot and kettle, of
vituperating memory, are not to be compared with them for
scurrility of epithet.

To escape the infliction of any compliments of this kind, or the
launching, peradventure, of more dangerous missiles, Wyeth landed
with the best grace in his power and approached the chief of the
band. It was Arapooish, the quondam friend of Rose the outlaw,
and one whom we have already mentioned as being anxious to
promote a friendly intercourse between his tribe and the white
men. He was a tall, stout man, of good presence, and received the
voyagers very graciously. His people, too, thronged around them,
and were officiously attentive after the Crow fashion. One took a
great fancy to Baptiste the Flathead boy, and a still greater
fancy to a ring on his finger, which he transposed to his own
with surprising dexterity, and then disappeared with a quick step
among the crowd.

Another was no less pleased with the Nez Perce lad, and nothing
would do but he must exchange knives with him; drawing a new
knife out of the Nez Perce's scabbard, and putting an old one in
its place. Another stepped up and replaced this old knife with
one still older, and a third helped himself to knife, scabbard
and all. It was with much difficulty that Wyeth and his
companions extricated themselves from the clutches of these
officious Crows before they were entirely plucked.

Falling down the river a little further, they came in sight of
the second band, and sheered to the opposite side, with the
intention of passing them. The Crows were not to be evaded. Some
pointed their guns at the boat, and threatened to fire; others
stripped, plunged into the stream, and came swimming across.
Making a virtue of necessity, Wyeth threw a cord to the first
that came within reach, as if he wished to be drawn to the shore.

In this way he was overhauled by every band, and by the time he
and his people came out of the busy hands of the last, they were
eased of most of their superfluities. Nothing, in all
probability, but the proximity of the American trading post, kept
these land pirates from making a good prize of the bull boat and
all its contents.

These bands were in full march, equipped for war, and evidently
full of mischief. They were, in fact, the very bands that overran
the land in the autumn of 1833; partly robbed Fitzpatrick of his
horses and effects; hunted and harassed Captain Bonneville and
his people; broke up their trapping campaigns, and, in a word,
drove them all out of the Crow country. It has been suspected
that they were set on to these pranks by some of the American Fur
Company, anxious to defeat the plans of their rivals of the Rocky
Mountain Company; for at this time, their competition was at its
height, and the trade of the Crow country was a great object of
rivalry. What makes this the more probable, is, that the Crows in
their depredation seemed by no means bloodthirsty, but intent
chiefly on robbing the parties of their traps and horses, thereby
disabling them from prosecuting their hunting.

We should observe that this year, the Rocky Mountain Company were
pushing their way up the rivers, and establishing rival posts
near those of the American Company; and that, at the very time of
which we are speaking, Captain Sublette was ascending the
Yellowstone with a keel boat, laden with supplies; so that there
was every prospect of this eager rivalship being carried to
extremes.

The last band of Crow warriors had scarcely disappeared in the
clouds of dust they had raised, when our voyagers arrived at the
mouth of the river and glided into the current of the
Yellowstone. Turning down this stream, they made for Fort Cass,
which is situated on the right bank, about three miles below the
Bighorn. On the opposite side they beheld a party of thirty-one
savages, which they soon ascertained to be Blackfeet. The width
of the river enabled them to keep at a sufficient distance, and
they soon landed at Fort Cass. This was a mere fortification
against Indians; being a stockade of about one hundred and thirty
feet square, with two bastions at the extreme corners. M'Tulloch,
an agent of the American Company, was stationed there with twenty
men; two boats of fifteen tons burden were lying here; but at
certain seasons of the year a steamboat can come up to the fort.

They had scarcely arrived, when the Blackfeet warriors made their
appearance on the opposite bank, displaying two American flags in
token of amity.  They plunged into the river, swam across, and
were kindly received at the fort. They were some of the very men
who had been engaged, the year previously, in the battle at
Pierre's Hole, and a fierce-looking set of fellows they were;
tall and hawk-nosed, and very much resembling the Crows. They
professed to be on an amicable errand, to make peace with the
Crows, and set off in all haste, before night, to overtake them.
Wyeth predicted that they would lose their scalps; for he had
heard the Crows denounce vengeance on them, for having murdered
two of their warriors who had ventured among them on the faith of
a treaty of peace. It is probable, however, that this pacific
errand was all a pretence, and that the real object of the
Blackfeet braves was to hang about the skirts of the Crow band,
steal their horses, and take the scalps of stragglers.

At Fort Cass, Mr. Wyeth disposed of some packages of beaver, and
a quantity of buffalo robes. On the following morning (August
18th), he once more launched his bull boat, and proceeded down
the Yellowstone, which inclined in an east-northeast direction.
The river had alluvial bottoms, fringed with great quantities of
the sweet cotton-wood, and interrupted occasionally by "bluffs"
of sandstone. The current occasionally brings down fragments of
granite and porphyry.

In the course of the day, they saw something moving on the bank
among the trees, which they mistook for game of some kind; and,
being in want of provisions, pulled toward shore. They
discovered, just in time, a party of Blackfeet, lurking in the
thickets, and sheered, with all speed, to the opposite side of
the river.

After a time, they came in sight of a gang of elk. Wyeth was
immediately for pursuing them, rifle in hand, but saw evident
signs of dissatisfaction in his half-breed hunters; who
considered him as trenching upon their province, and meddling
with things quite above his capacity; for these veterans of the
wilderness are exceedingly pragmatical, on points of venery and
woodcraft, and tenacious of their superiority; looking down with
infinite contempt upon all raw beginners. The two worthies,
therefore, sallied forth themselves, but after a time returned
empty-handed. They laid the blame, however, entirely on their
guns; two miserable old pieces with flint locks, which, with all
their picking and hammering, were continually apt to miss fire.
These great boasters of the wilderness, however, are very often
exceeding bad shots, and fortunate it is for them when they have
old flint guns to bear the blame.

The next day they passed where a great herd of buffalo was
bellowing on a prairie. Again the Castor and Pollux of the
wilderness sallied forth, and again their flint guns were at
fault, and missed fire, and nothing went off but the buffalo.
Wyeth now found there was danger of losing his dinner if he
depended upon his hunters; he took rifle in hand, therefore, and
went forth himself. In the course of an hour he returned laden
with buffalo meat, to the great mortification of the two regular
hunters, who were annoyed at being eclipsed by a greenhorn.

All hands now set to work to prepare the midday repast. A fire
was made under an immense cotton-wood tree, that overshadowed a
beautiful piece of meadow land; rich morsels of buffalo hump were
soon roasting before it; in a hearty and prolonged repast, the
two unsuccessful hunters gradually recovered from their
mortification; threatened to discard their old flint guns as soon
as they should reach the settlements, and boasted more than ever
of the wonderful shots they had made, when they had guns that
never missed fire.

Having hauled up their boat to dry in the sun, previous to making
their repast, the voyagers now set it once more afloat, and
proceeded on their way. They had constructed a sail out of their
old tent, which they hoisted whenever the wind was favorable, and
thus skimmed along down the stream. Their voyage was pleasant,
notwithstanding the perils by sea and land, with which they were
environed. Whenever they could they encamped on islands for the
greater security. If on the mainland, and in a dangerous
neighborhood, they would shift their camp after dark, leaving
their fire burning, dropping down the river some distance, and
making no fire at their second encampment.  Sometimes they would
float all night with the current; one keeping watch and steering
while the rest slept. in such case, they would haul their boat on
shore, at noon of the following day to dry; for notwithstanding
every precaution, she was gradually getting water-soaked and
rotten.

There was something pleasingly solemn and mysterious in thus
floating down these wild rivers at night. The purity of the
atmosphere in these elevated regions gave additional splendor to
the stars, and heightened the magnificence of the firmament. The
occasional rush and laving of the waters; the vague sounds from
the surrounding wilderness; the dreary howl, or rather whine of
wolves from the plains; the low grunting and bellowing of the
buffalo, and the shrill neighing of the elk, struck the ear with
an effect unknown in the daytime.

The two knowing hunters had scarcely recovered from one
mortification when they were fated to experience another. As the
boat was gliding swiftly round a low promontory, thinly covered
with trees, one of them gave the alarm of Indians. The boat was
instantly shoved from shore and every one caught up his rifle.
"Where are they?" cried Wyeth.

"There -- there! riding on horseback!" cried one of the hunters.

"Yes; with white scarfs on!" cried the other.

Wyeth looked in the direction they pointed, but descried nothing
but two bald eagles, perched on a low dry branch beyond the
thickets, and seeming, from the rapid motion of the boat, to be
moving swiftly in an opposite direction. The detection of this
blunder in the two veterans, who prided themselves on the
sureness and quickness of their sight, produced a hearty laugh at
their expense, and put an end to their vauntings.

The Yellowstone, above the confluence of the Bighorn, is a clear
stream; its waters were now gradually growing turbid, and
assuming the yellow clay color of the Missouri. The current was
about four miles an hour, with occasional rapids; some of them
dangerous, but the voyagers passed them all without accident. The
banks of the river were in many places precipitous with strata of
bituminous coal.
They now entered a region abounding with buffalo --  that
ever-journeying animal, which moves in countless droves from
point to point of the vast wilderness; traversing plains, pouring
through the intricate defiles of mountains, swimming rivers, ever
on the move, guided on its boundless migrations by some
traditionary knowledge, like the finny tribes of the ocean,
which, at certain seasons, find their mysterious paths across the
deep and revisit the remotest shores.

These great migratory herds of buffalo have their hereditary
paths and highways, worn deep through the country, and making for
the surest passes of the mountains, and the most practicable
fords of the rivers. When once a great column is in full career,
it goes straight forward, regardless of all obstacles; those in
front being impelled by the moving mass behind. At such times
they

will break through a camp, trampling down everything in their
course.

It was the lot of the voyagers, one night, to encamp at one of
these buffalo landing places, and exactly on the trail. They had
not been long asleep, when they were awakened by a great
bellowing, and tramping, and the rush, and splash, and snorting
of animals in the river. They had just time to ascertain that a
buffalo army was entering the river on the opposite side, and
making toward the landing place. With all haste they moved their
boat and shifted their camp, by which time the head of the column
had reached the shore, and came pressing up the bank.

It was a singular spectacle, by the uncertain moonlight, to
behold this countless throng making their way across the river,
blowing, and bellowing, and splashing. Sometimes they pass in
such dense and continuous column as to form a temporary dam
across the river, the waters of which rise and rush over their
backs, or between their squadrons. The roaring and rushing sound
of one of these vast herds crossing a river, may sometimes in a
still night be heard for miles.

The voyagers now had game in profusion. They could kill as many
buffaloes as they pleased, and, occasionally, were wanton in
their havoc; especially among scattered herds, that came swimming
near the boat. On one occasion, an old buffalo bull approached so
near that the half-breeds must fain try to noose him as they
would a wild horse. The noose was successfully thrown around his
head, and secured him by the horns, and they now promised
themselves ample sport. The buffalo made prodigious turmoil in
the water, bellowing, and blowing, and floundering; and they all
floated down the stream together. At length he found foothold on
a sandbar, and taking to his heels, whirled the boat after him
like a whale when harpooned; so that the hunters were obliged to
cast off their rope, with which strange head-gear the venerable
bull made off to the prairies.

On the 24th of August, the bull boat emerged, with its
adventurous crew, into the broad bosom of the mighty Missouri.
Here, about six miles above the mouth of the Yellowstone, the
voyagers landed at Fort Union, the distributing post of the
American Fur Company in the western country.  It was a stockaded
fortress, about two hundred and twenty feet square, pleasantly
situated on a high bank. Here they were hospitably entertained by
Mr. M'Kenzie, the superintendent, and remained with him three
days, enjoying the unusual luxuries of bread, butter, milk, and
cheese, for the fort was well supplied with domestic cattle,
though it had no garden. The atmosphere of these elevated regions
is said to be too dry for the culture of vegetables; yet the
voyagers, in coming down the Yellowstone, had met with plums,
grapes, cherries, and currants, and had observed ash and elm
trees. Where these grow the climate cannot be incompatible with
gardening.

At Fort Union, Wyeth met with a melancholy memento of one of his
men. This was a powder-flask, which a clerk had purchased from a
Blackfoot warrior. It bore the initials of poor More, the
unfortunate youth murdered the year previously, at Jackson's
Hole, by the Blackfeet, and whose bones had been subsequently
found by Captain Bonneville. This flask had either been passed
from hand to hand of the youth, or, perhaps, had been brought to
the fort by the very savage who slew him.

As the bull boat was now nearly worn out, and altogether unfit
for the broader and more turbulent stream of the Missouri, it was
given up, and a canoe of cottonwood, about twenty feet long,
fabricated by the Blackfeet, was purchased to supply its place.
In this Wyeth hoisted his sail, and bidding adieu to the
hospitable superintendent of Fort Union, turned his prow to the
east, and set off down the Missouri.

He had not proceeded many hours, before, in the evening, he came
to a large keel boat at anchor. It proved to be the boat of
Captain William Sublette, freighted with munitions for carrying
on a powerful opposition to the American Fur Company. The
voyagers went on board, where they were treated with the hearty
hospitality of the wilderness, and passed a social evening,
talking over past scenes and adventures, and especially the
memorable fight at Pierre's Hole.

Here Milton Sublette determined to give up further voyaging in
the canoe, and remain with his brother; accordingly, in the
morning, the fellow-voyagers took kind leave of each other. and
Wyeth continued on his course. There was now no one on board of
his boat that had ever voyaged on the Missouri; it was, however,
all plain sailing down the stream, without any chance of missing
the way.

All day the voyagers pulled gently along, and landed in the
evening and supped; then re-embarking, they suffered the canoe to
float down with the current; taking turns to watch and sleep. The
night was calm and serene; the elk kept up a continual whinnying
or squealing, being the commencement of the season when they are
in heat. In the midst of the night the canoe struck on a
sand-bar, and all hands were roused by the rush and roar of the
wild waters, which broke around her. They were all obliged to
jump overboard, and work hard to get her off, which was
accomplished with much difficulty.

In the course of the following day they saw three grizzly bears
at different times along the bank. The last one was on a point of
land, and was evidently making for the river, to swim across. The
two half-breed hunters were now eager to repeat the manoeuvre of
the noose; promising to entrap Bruin, and have rare sport in
strangling and drowning him. Their only fear was, that he might
take fright and return to land before they could get between him
and the shore.  Holding back, therefore, until he was fairly
committed in the centre of the stream, they then pulled forward
with might and main, so as to cut off his retreat, and take him
in the rear. One of the worthies stationed himself in the bow,
with the cord and slip-noose, the other, with the Nez Perce,
managed the paddles. There was nothing further from the thoughts
of honest Bruin, however, than to beat a retreat. Just as the
canoe was drawing near, he turned suddenly round and made for it,
with a horrible snarl and a tremendous show of teeth. The
affrighted hunter called to his comrades to paddle off. Scarce
had they turned the boat when the bear laid his enormous claws on
the gunwale, and attempted to get on board. The canoe was nearly
overturned, and a deluge of water came pouring over the gunwale. 
All was clamor, terror, and confusion.  Every one bawled out -
the bear roared and snarled - one caught up a gun; but water had
rendered it useless. Others handled their paddles more
effectually, and beating old Bruin about the head and claws,
obliged him to relinquish his hold. They now plied their paddles
with might and main, the bear made the best of his way to shore,
and so ended the second exploit of the noose; the hunters
determined to have no more naval contests with grizzly bears.

The voyagers were now out of range of Crows and Black-feet; but
they were approaching the country of the Rees, or Arickaras; a
tribe no less dangerous; and who were, generally, hostile to
small parties.

In passing through their country, Wyeth laid by all day, and
drifted quietly down the river at night. In this way he passed
on, until he supposed himself safely through the region of
danger; when he resumed his voyage in the open day. On the 3d of
September he had landed, at midday, to dine; and while some were
making a fire, one of the hunters mounted a high bank to look out
for game. He had scarce glanced his eye round, when he perceived
horses grazing on the opposite side of the river. Crouching down
he slunk back to the camp, and reported what he had seen. On
further reconnoitering, the voyagers counted twenty-one lodges;
and from the number of horses, computed that there must be nearly
a hundred Indians encamped there. They now drew their boat, with
all speed and caution, into a thicket of water willows, and
remained closely concealed all day. As soon as the night closed
in they re-embarked. The moon would rise early; so that they had
but about two hours of darkness to get past the camp. The night,
however, was cloudy, with a blustering wind. Silently, and with
muffled oars, they glided down the river, keeping close under the
shore opposite to the camp; watching its various lodges and
fires, and the dark forms passing to and fro between them.
Suddenly, on turning a point of land, they found themselves close
upon a camp on their own side of the river. It appeared that not
more than one half of the band had crossed. They were within a
few yards of the shore; they saw distinctly the savages -- some
standing, some lying round the fire. Horses were grazing around.
Some lodges were set up, others had been sent across the river.
The red glare of the fires upon these wild groups and harsh
faces, contrasted with the surrounding darkness, had a startling
effect, as the voyagers suddenly came upon the scene.  The dogs
of the camp perceived them, and barked; but the Indians.
fortunately, took no heed of their clamor. Wyeth instantly
sheered his boat out into the stream; when, unluckily it struck
upon a sand-bar, and stuck fast. It was a perilous and trying
situation; for he was fixed between the two camps, and within
rifle range of both. All hands jumped out into the water, and
tried to get the boat off; but as no one dared to give the word,
they could not pull together, and their labor was in vain. In
this way they labored for a long time; until Wyeth thought of
giving a signal for a general heave, by lifting his hat. The
expedient succeeded. They launched their canoe again into deep
water, and getting in, had the delight of seeing the camp fires
of the savages soon fading in the distance.

They continued under way the greater part of the night, until far
beyond all danger from this band, when they pulled to shore, and
encamped.

The following day was windy, and they came near upsetting their
boat in carrying sail.  Toward evening, the wind subsided and a
beautiful calm night succeeded. They floated along with the
current throughout the night, taking turns to watch and steer. 
The deep stillness of the night was occasionally interrupted by
the neighing of the elk, the hoarse lowing of the buffalo, the
hooting of large owls, and the screeching of the small ones, now
and then the splash of a beaver, or the gonglike sound of the
swan.

Part of their voyage was extremely tempestuous; with high winds,
tremendous thunder, and soaking rain; and they were repeatedly in
extreme danger from drift-wood and sunken trees. On one occasion,
having continued to float at night, after the moon was down, they
ran under a great snag, or sunken tree, with dry branches above
the water. These caught the mast, while the boat swung round,
broadside to the stream, and began to fill with water. Nothing
saved her from total wreck, but cutting away the mast. She then
drove down the stream, but left one of the unlucky half-breeds
clinging to the snag, like a monkey to a pole. It was necessary
to run in shore, toil up, laboriously, along the eddies and to
attain some distance above the snag, when they launched forth
again into the stream and floated down with it to his rescue.

We forbear to detail all the circumstances and adventures of
upward of a months voyage, down the windings and doublings of
this vast river; in the course of which they stopped occasionally
at a post of one of the rival fur companies, or at a government
agency for an Indian tribe. Neither shall we dwell upon the
changes of climate and productions, as the voyagers swept down
from north to south, across several degrees of latitude; arriving
at the regions of oaks and sycamores; of mulberry and basswood
trees; of paroquets and wild turkeys. This is one of the
characteristics of the middle and lower part of the Missouri; but
still more so of the Mississippi, whose rapid current traverses a
succession of latitudes so as in a few days to float the voyager
almost from the frozen regions to the tropics.

The voyage of Wyeth shows the regular and unobstructed flow of
the rivers, on the east side of the Rocky Mountains, in contrast
to those of the western side; where rocks and rapids continually
menace and obstruct the voyager. We find him in a frail bark of
skins, launching himself in a stream at the foot of the Rocky
Mountains, and floating down from river to river, as they empty
themselves into each other; and so he might have kept on upward
of two thousand miles, until his little bark should drift into
the ocean. At present we shall stop with him at Cantonment
Leavenworth, the frontier post of the United States; where he
arrived on the 27th of September.

Here his first care was to have his Nez Perce Indian, and his
half-breed boy, Baptiste, vaccinated. As they approached the
fort, they were hailed by the sentinel. The sight of a soldier in
full array, with what appeared to be a long knife glittering on
the end of a musket, struck Baptiste with such affright that he
took to his heels, bawling for mercy at the top of his voice. The
Nez Perce would have followed him, had not Wyeth assured him of
his safety. When they underwent the operation of the lancet, the
doctor's wife and another lady were present; both beautiful
women. They were the first white women that they had seen, and
they could not keep their eyes off of them. On returning to the
boat, they recounted to their companions all that they had
observed at the fort; but were especially eloquent about the
white squaws, who, they said, were white as snow, and more
beautiful than any human being they had ever beheld.

We shall not accompany the captain any further in his Voyage; but
will simply state that he made his way to Boston, where he
succeeded in organizing an association under the name of "The
Columbia River Fishing and Trading Company," for his original
objects of a salmon fishery and a trade in furs. A brig, the May
Dacres, had been dispatched for the Columbia with supplies; and
he was now on his way to the same point, at the head of sixty
men, whom he had enlisted at St. Louis; some of whom were
experienced hunters, and all more habituated to the life of the
wilderness than his first band of "down-easters."

We will now return to Captain Bonneville and his party, whom we
left, making up their packs and saddling their horses, in Bear
River Valley.



                              42.
                                
 Departure of Captain Bonneville for the Columbia   Advance of
   Wyeth   Efforts to keep the lead   Hudson's Bay party   A
  junketing   A delectable beverage   Honey and alcohol   High
carousing   The Canadian "bon vivant"   A cache   A rapid move  
Wyeth and his plans   His travelling companions   Buffalo hunting
               More conviviality   An interruption.

IT was the 3d of July that Captain Bonneville set out on his
second visit to the banks of the Columbia, at the head of
twenty-three men.  He travelled leisurely, to keep his horses
fresh, until on the 10th of July a scout brought word that Wyeth,
with his band, was but fifty miles in the rear, and pushing
forward with all speed.  This caused some bustle in the camp; for
it was important to get first to the buffalo ground to secure
provisions for the journey. As the horses were too heavily laden
to travel fast, a cache was digged, as promptly as possible, to
receive all superfluous baggage. Just as it was finished, a
spring burst out of the earth at the bottom. Another cache was
therefore digged, about two miles further on; when, as they were
about to bury the effects, a line of horsemen with pack-horses,
were seen streaking over the plain, and encamped close by.

It proved to be a small band in the service of the Hudson's Bay
Company, under the command of a veteran Canadian; one of those
petty leaders, who, with a small party of men, and a small supply
of goods, are employed to follow up a band of Indians from one
hunting ground to another, and buy up their peltries.

Having received numerous civilities from the Hudson's Bay
Company, the captain sent an invitation to the officers of the
party to an evening regale; and set to work to make jovial
preparations. As the night air in these elevated regions is apt
to be cold, a blazing fire was soon made, that would have done
credit to a Christmas dinner, instead of a midsummer banquet. The
parties met in high good-fellowship. There was abundance of such
hunters' fare as the neighborhood furnished; and it was all
discussed with mountain appetites.  They talked over all the
events of their late campaigns; but the Canadian veteran had been
unlucky in some of his transactions; and his brow began to grow
cloudy. Captain Bonneville remarked his rising spleen, and
regretted that he had no juice of the grape to keep it down.

A man's wit, however, is quick and inventive in the wilderness; a
thought suggested itself to the captain, how he might brew a
delectable beverage.  Among his stores was a keg of honey but
half exhausted. This he filled up with alcohol, and stirred the
fiery and mellifluous ingredients together.  The glorious results
may readily be imagined; a happy compound of strength and
sweetness, enough to soothe the most ruffled temper and unsettle
the most solid understanding.

The beverage worked to a charm; the can circulated merrily; the
first deep draught washed out every care from the mind of the
veteran; the second elevated his spirit to the clouds.  He was,
in fact, a boon companion; as all veteran Canadian traders are
apt to be. He now became glorious; talked over all his exploits,
his huntings, his fightings with Indian braves, his loves with
Indian beauties; sang snatches of old French ditties, and
Canadian boat songs; drank deeper and deeper, sang louder and
louder; until, having reached a climax of drunken gayety, he
gradually declined, and at length fell fast asleep upon the
ground. After a long nap he again raised his head, imbibed
another potation of the "sweet and strong," flashed up with
another slight blaze of French gayety, and again fell asleep.

The morning found him still upon the field of action, but in sad
and sorrowful condition; suffering the penalties of past
pleasures, and calling to mind the captain's dulcet compound,
with many a retch and spasm. It seemed as if the honey and
alcohol, which had passed so glibly and smoothly over his tongue,
were at war within his stomach; and that he had a swarm of bees
within his head. In short, so helpless and woebegone was his
plight, that his party proceeded on their march without him; the
captain promised to bring him on in safety in the after part of
the day.

As soon as this party had moved off, Captain Bonneville's men
proceeded to construct and fill their cache; and just as it was
completed the party of Wyeth was descried at a distance. In a
moment all was activity to take the road.  The horses were
prepared and mounted; and being lightened of a great part of
their burdens, were able to move with celerity. As to the worthy
convive of the preceding evening, he was carefully gathered up
from the hunter's couch on which he lay, repentant and supine,
and, being packed upon one of the horses, was hurried forward
with the convoy, groaning and ejaculating at every jolt.

In the course of the day, Wyeth, being lightly mounted, rode
ahead of his party, and overtook Captain Bonneville. Their
meeting was friendly and courteous; and they discussed, sociably,
their respective fortunes since they separated on the banks of
the Bighorn. Wyeth announced his intention of establishing a
small trading post at the mouth of the Portneuf, and leaving a
few men there, with a quantity of goods, to trade with the
neighboring Indians.  He was compelled, in fact, to this measure,
in consequence of the refusal of the Rocky Mountain Fur Company
to take a supply of goods which he had brought out for them
according to contract; and which he had no other mode of
disposing of.  He further informed Captain Bonneville that the
competition between the Rocky Mountain and American Fur Companies
which had led to such nefarious stratagems and deadly feuds, was
at an end; they having divided the country between them,
allotting boundaries within which each was to trade and hunt, so
as not to interfere with the other.

In company with Wyeth were travelling two men of science; Mr.
Nuttall, the botanist; the same who ascended the Missouri at the
time of the expedition to Astoria; and Mr. Townshend, an
ornithologist; from these gentlemen we may look forward to
important information concerning these interesting regions. There
were three religious missionaries, also, bound to the shores of
the Columbia, to spread the light of the Gospel in that far
wilderness.

After riding for some time together, in friendly conversation,
Wyeth returned to his party, and Captain Bonneville continued to
press forward, and to gain ground. At night he sent off the sadly
sober and moralizing chief of the Hudson's Bay Company, under a
proper escort, to rejoin his people; his route branching off in a
different direction. The latter took a cordial leave of his host,
hoping, on some future occasion, to repay his hospitality in
kind.

In the morning the captain was early on the march; throwing
scouts out far ahead, to scour hill and dale, in search of
buffalo.  He had confidently expected to find game in abundance,
on the head-waters of the Portneuf; but on reaching that region,
not a track was to be seen.

At length, one of the scouts, who had made a wide sweep away to
the head-waters of the Blackfoot River, discovered great herds
quietly grazing in the adjacent meadows. He set out on his
return, to report his discoveries; but night overtaking him, he
was kindly and hospitably entertained at the camp of Wyeth. As
soon as day dawned he hastened to his own camp with the welcome
intelligence; and about ten o'clock of the same morning, Captain
Bonneville's party were in the midst of the game.

The packs were scarcely off the backs of the mules, when the
runners, mounted on the fleetest horses, were full tilt after the
buffalo. Others of the men were busied erecting scaffolds, and
other contrivances, for jerking or drying meat; others were
lighting great fires for the same purpose; soon the hunters began
to make their appearance, bringing in the choicest morsels of
buffalo meat; these were placed upon the scaffolds, and the whole
camp presented a scene of singular hurry and activity. At
daylight the next morning, the runners again took the field, with
similar success; and, after an interval of repose made their
third and last chase, about twelve o'clock; for by this time,
Wyeth's party was in sight. The game being now driven into a
valley, at some distance, Wyeth was obliged to fix his camp
there; but he came in the evening to pay Captain Bonneville a
visit. He was accompanied by Captain Stewart, the amateur
traveller; who had not yet sated his appetite for the adventurous
life of the wilderness. With him, also, was a Mr. M'Kay, a
half-breed; son of the unfortunate adventurer of the same name
who came out in the first maritime expedition to Astoria and was
blown up in the Tonquin.  His son had grown up in the employ of
the British fur companies; and was a prime hunter, and a daring
partisan. He held, moreover, a farm in the valley of the
Wallamut.

The three visitors, when they reached Captain Bonneville's camp,
were surprised to find no one in it but himself and three men;
his party being dispersed in all directions, to make the most of
their present chance for hunting. They remonstrated with him on
the imprudence of remaining with so trifling a guard in a region
so full of danger. Captain Bonneville vindicated the policy of
his conduct.  He never hesitated to send out all his hunters,
when any important object was to be attained; and experience had
taught him that he was most secure when his forces were thus
distributed over the surrounding country. He then was sure that
no enemy could approach, from any direction, without being
discovered by his hunters; who have a quick eye for detecting the
slightest signs of the proximity of Indians; and who would
instantly convey intelligence to the camp.

The captain now set to work with his men, to prepare a suitable
entertainment for his guests. It was a time of plenty in the
camp; of prime hunters' dainties; of buffalo humps, and buffalo
tongues; and roasted ribs, and broiled marrow-bones: all these
were cooked in hunters' style; served up with a profusion known
only on a plentiful hunting ground, and discussed with an
appetite that would astonish the puny gourmands of the cities. 
But above all, and to give a bacchanalian grace to this truly
masculine repast, the captain produced his mellifluous keg of
home-brewed nectar, which had been so potent over the senses of
the veteran of Hudson's Bay. Potations, pottle deep, again went
round; never did beverage excite greater glee, or meet with more
rapturous commendation. The parties were fast advancing to that
happy state which would have insured ample cause for the next
day's repentance; and the bees were already beginning to buzz
about their ears, when a messenger came spurring to the camp with
intelligence that Wyeth's people had got entangled in one of
those deep and frightful ravines, piled with immense fragments of
volcanic rock, which gash the whole country about the head-waters
of the Blackfoot River. The revel was instantly at an end; the
keg of sweet and potent home-brewed was deserted; and the guests
departed with all speed to aid in extricating their companions
from the volcanic ravine.



                              43.
                                
A rapid march   A cloud of dust   Wild horsemen   "High Jinks"  
Horseracing and rifle-shooting   The game of hand   The fishing
 season   Mode of fishing   Table lands   Salmon fishers   The
captain's visit to an Indian lodge   The Indian girl   The pocket
       mirror   Supper   Troubles of an evil conscience.

"UP and away!" is the first thought at daylight of the Indian
trader, when a rival is at hand and distance is to be gained.
Early in the morning, Captain Bonneville ordered the half dried
meat to be packed upon the horses, and leaving Wyeth and his
party to hunt the scattered buffalo, pushed off rapidly to the
east, to regain the plain of the Portneuf. His march was rugged
and dangerous; through volcanic hills, broken into cliffs and
precipices; and seamed with tremendous chasms, where the rocks
rose like walls.

On the second day, however, he encamped once more in the plain,
and as it was still early some of the men strolled out to the
neighboring hills. In casting their eyes round the country, they
perceived a great cloud of dust rising in the south, and
evidently approaching. Hastening back to the camp, they gave the
alarm.  Preparations were instantly made to receive an enemy;
while some of the men, throwing themselves upon the "running
horses" kept for hunting, galloped off to reconnoitre. In a
little while, they made signals from a distance that all was
friendly. By this time the cloud of dust had swept on as if
hurried along by a blast, and a band of wild horsemen came
dashing at full leap into the camp, yelling and whooping like so
many maniacs. Their dresses, their accoutrements, their mode of
riding, and their uncouth clamor, made them seem a party of
savages arrayed for war; but they proved to be principally
half-breeds, and white men grown savage in the wilderness, who
were employed as trappers and hunters in the service of the
Hudson's Bay Company.

Here was again "high jinks" in the camp. Captain Bonneville's men
hailed these wild scamperers as congenial spirits, or rather as
the very game birds of their class. They entertained them with
the hospitality of mountaineers, feasting them at every fire.  At
first, there were mutual details of adventures and exploits, and
broad joking mingled with peals of laughter. Then came on
boasting of the comparative merits of horses and rifles, which
soon engrossed every tongue. This naturally led to racing, and
shooting at a mark; one trial of speed and skill succeeded
another, shouts and acclamations rose from the victorious
parties, fierce altercations succeeded, and a general melee was
about to take place, when suddenly the attention of the
quarrellers was arrested by a strange kind of Indian chant or
chorus, that seemed to operate upon them as a charm. Their fury
was at an end; a tacit reconciliation succeeded and the ideas of
the whole mongrel crowd whites, half-breeds and squaws  were
turned in a new direction. They all formed into groups and taking
their places at the several fires, prepared for one of the most
exciting amusements of the Nez Perces and the other tribes of the
Far West.

The choral chant, in fact, which had thus acted as a charm, was a
kind of wild accompaniment to the favorite Indian game of "Hand."
This is played by two parties drawn out in opposite platoons
before a blazing fire. It is in some respects like the old game
of passing the ring or the button, and detecting the hand which
holds it. In the present game, the object hidden, or the cache as
it is called by the trappers, is a small splint of wood, or other
diminutive article that may be concealed in the closed hand. This
is passed backward and forward among the party "in hand," while
the party "out of hand" guess where it is concealed. To heighten
the excitement and confuse the guessers, a number of dry poles
are laid before each platoon, upon which the members of the party
"in hand" beat furiously with short staves, keeping time to the
choral chant already mentioned, which waxes fast and furious as
the game proceeds. As large bets are staked upon the game, the
excitement is prodigious. Each party in turn bursts out in full
chorus, beating, and yelling, and working themselves up into such
a heat that the perspiration rolls down their naked shoulders,
even in the cold of a winter night. The bets are doubled and
trebled as the game advances, the mental excitement increases
almost to madness, and all the worldly effects of the gamblers
are often hazarded upon the position of a straw.

These gambling games were kept up throughout the night; every
fire glared upon a group that looked like a crew of maniacs at
their frantic orgies, and the scene would have been kept up
throughout the succeeding day, had not Captain Bonneville
interposed his authority, and, at the usual hour, issued his
marching orders.

Proceeding down the course of Snake River, the hunters regularly
returned to camp in the evening laden with wild geese, which were
yet scarcely able to fly, and were easily caught in great
numbers. It was now the season of the annual fish-feast, with
which the Indians in these parts celebrate the first appearance
of the salmon in this river.  These fish are taken in great
numbers at the numerous falls of about four feet pitch.  The
Indians flank the shallow water just below, and spear them as
they attempt to pass. In wide parts of the river, also, they
place a sort of chevaux-de-frize, or fence, of poles interwoven
with withes, and forming an angle in the middle of the current,
where a small opening is left for the salmon to pass. Around this
opening the Indians station themselves on small rafts, and ply
their spears with great success.

The table lands so common in this region have a sandy soil,
inconsiderable in depth, and covered with sage, or more properly
speaking, wormwood.  Below this is a level stratum of rock, riven
occasionally by frightful chasms. The whole plain rises as it
approaches the river, and terminates with high and broken cliffs,
difficult to pass, and in many places so precipitous that it is
impossible, for days together, to get down to the water's edge,
to give drink to the horses.  This obliges the traveller
occasionally to abandon the vicinity of the river, and make a
wide sweep into the interior.

It was now far in the month of July, and the party suffered
extremely from sultry weather and dusty travelling. The flies and
gnats, too, were extremely troublesome to the horses; especially
when keeping along the edge of the river where it runs between
low sand-banks.  Whenever the travellers encamped in the
afternoon, the horses retired to the gravelly shores and remained
there, without attempting to feed until the cool of the evening. 
As to the travellers, they plunged into the clear and cool
current, to wash away the dust of the road and refresh themselves
after the heat of the day.  The nights were always cool and
pleasant.

At one place where they encamped for some time, the river was
nearly five hundred yards wide, and studded with grassy islands,
adorned with groves of willow and cotton-wood. Here the Indians
were assembled in great numbers, and had barricaded the channels
between the islands, to enable them to spear the salmon with
greater facility. They were a timid race, and seemed unaccustomed
to the sight of white men. Entering one of the huts, Captain
Bonneville found the inhabitants just proceeding to cook a fine
salmon.  It is put into a pot filled with cold water, and hung
over the fire. The moment the water begins to boil, the fish is
considered cooked.

 Taking his seat unceremoniously, and lighting his pipe, the
captain awaited the cooking of the fish, intending to invite
himself to the repast. The owner of the hut seemed to take his
intrusion in good part.  While conversing with him the captain
felt something move behind him, and turning round and removing a
few skins and old buffalo robes, discovered a young girl, about
fourteen years of age, crouched beneath, who directed her large
black eyes full in his face, and continued to gaze in mute
surprise and terror. The captain endeavored to dispel her fears,
and drawing a bright ribbon from his pocket, attempted repeatedly
to tie it round her neck.  She jerked back at each attempt,
uttering a sound very much like a snarl; nor could all the
blandishments of the captain, albeit a pleasant, good-looking,
and somewhat gallant man, succeed in conquering the shyness of
the savage little beauty. His attentions were now turned toward
the parents, whom he presented with an awl and a little tobacco,
and having thus secured their good-will, continued to smoke his
pipe, and watch the salmon. While thus seated near the threshold,
an urchin of the family approached the door, but catching a sight
of the strange guest, ran off screaming with terror and ensconced
himself behind the long straw at the back of the hut.

Desirous to dispel entirely this timidity, and to open a trade
with the simple inhabitants of the hut, who, he did not doubt,
had furs somewhere concealed, the captain now drew forth that
grand lure in the eyes of a savage, a pocket mirror. The sight of
it was irresistible. After examining it for a long time with
wonder and admiration, they produced a musk-rat skin, and offered
it in exchange.  The captain shook his head; but purchased the
skin for a couple of buttons - superfluous trinkets! as the
worthy lord of the hovel had neither coat nor breeches on which
to place them.

The mirror still continued the great object of desire,
particularly in the eyes of the old housewife, who produced a pot
of parched flour and a string of biscuit roots. These procured
her some trifle in return; but could not command the purchase of
the mirror. The salmon being now completely cooked, they all
joined heartily in supper. A bounteous portion was deposited
before the captain by the old woman, upon some fresh grass, which
served instead of a platter; and never had he tasted a salmon
boiled so completely to his fancy.

Supper being over, the captain lighted his pipe and passed it to
his host, who, inhaling the smoke, puffed it through his nostrils
so assiduously, that in a little while his head manifested signs
of confusion and dizziness.  Being satisfied, by this time, of
the kindly and companionable qualities of the captain, he became
easy and communicative; and at length hinted something about
exchanging beaver skins for horses. The captain at once offered
to dispose of his steed, which stood fastened at the door. The
bargain was soon concluded, whereupon the Indian, removing a pile
of bushes under which his valuables were concealed, drew forth
the number of skins agreed upon as the price.

Shortly afterward, some of the captain's people coming up, he
ordered another horse to be saddled, and, mounting it, took his
departure from the hut, after distributing a few trifling
presents among its simple inhabitants. During all the time of his
visit, the little Indian girl had kept her large black eyes fixed
upon him, almost without winking, watching every movement with
awe and wonder; and as he rode off, remained gazing after him,
motionless as a statue. Her father, however, delighted with his
new acquaintance, mounted his newly purchased horse, and followed
in the train of the captain, to whom he continued to be a
faithful and useful adherent during his sojourn in the
neighborhood.

The cowardly effects of an evil conscience were evidenced in the
conduct of one of the captain's men, who had been in the
California expedition.  During all their intercourse with the
harmless people of this place, he had manifested uneasiness and
anxiety.  While his companions mingled freely and joyously with
the natives, he went about with a restless, suspicious look;
scrutinizing every painted form and face and starting often at
the sudden approach of some meek and inoffensive savage, who
regarded him with reverence as a superior being. Yet this was
ordinarily a bold fellow, who never flinched from danger, nor
turned pale at the prospect of a battle. At length he requested
permission of Captain Bonneville to keep out of the way of these
people entirely. Their striking resemblance, he said, to the
people of Ogden's River, made him continually fear that some
among them might have seen him in that expedition; and might seek
an opportunity of revenge. Ever after this, while they remained
in this neighborhood, he would skulk out of the way and keep
aloof when any of the native inhabitants approached. "Such,"
observed Captain Bonneville, "is the effect of self-reproach,
even upon the roving trapper in the wilderness, who has little
else to fear than the stings of his own guilty conscience."



                              44.
                                
     Outfit of a trapper   Risks to which he is subjected  
Partnership of trappers   Enmity of Indians   Distant smoke   A
   country on fire   Gun Greek   Grand Rond   Fine pastures  
  Perplexities in a smoky country   Conflagration of forests.

IT had been the intention of Captain Bonneville, in descending
along Snake River, to scatter his trappers upon the smaller
streams.  In this way a range of country is trapped by small
detachments from a main body.  The outfit of a trapper is
generally a rifle, a pound of powder, and four pounds of lead,
with a bullet mould, seven traps, an axe, a hatchet, a knife and
awl, a camp kettle, two blankets, and, where supplies are plenty,
seven pounds of flour. He has, generally, two or three horses, to
carry himself and his baggage and peltries.  Two trappers
commonly go together, for the purposes of mutual assistance and
support; a larger party could not easily escape the eyes of the
Indians. It is a service of peril, and even more so at present
than formerly, for the Indians, since they have got into the
habit of trafficking peltries with the traders, have learned the
value of the beaver, and look upon the trappers as poachers, who
are filching the riches from their streams, and interfering with
their market. They make no hesitation, therefore, to murder the
solitary trapper, and thus destroy a competitor, while they
possess themselves of his spoils. It is with regret we add, too,
that this hostility has in many cases been instigated by traders,
desirous of injuring their rivals, but who have themselves often
reaped the fruits of the mischief they have sown.

When two trappers undertake any considerable stream, their mode
of proceeding is, to hide their horses in some lonely glen, where
they can graze unobserved.  They then build a small hut, dig out
a canoe from a cotton-wood tree, and in this poke along shore
silently, in the evening, and set their traps. These they revisit
in the same silent way at daybreak. When they take any beaver
they bring it home, skin it, stretch the skins on sticks to dry,
and feast upon the flesh.  The body, hung up before the fire,
turns by its own weight, and is roasted in a superior style; the
tail is the trapper s tidbit; it is cut off, put on the end of a
stick, and toasted, and is considered even a greater dainty than
the tongue or the marrow-bone of a buffalo.

With all their silence and caution, however, the poor trappers
cannot always escape their hawk-eyed enemies. Their trail has
been discovered, perhaps, and followed up for many a mile; or
their smoke has been seen curling up out of the secret glen, or
has been scented by the savages, whose sense of smell is almost
as acute as that of sight. Sometimes they are pounced upon when
in the act of setting their traps; at other times, they are
roused from their sleep by the horrid war-whoop; or, perhaps,
have a bullet or an arrow whistling about their ears, in the
midst of one of their beaver banquets.  In this way they are
picked off, from time to time, and nothing is known of them,
until, perchance, their bones are found bleaching in some lonely
ravine, or on the banks of some nameless stream, which from that
time is called after them. Many of the small streams beyond the
mountains thus perpetuate the names of unfortunate trappers that
have been murdered on their banks.

A knowledge of these dangers deterred Captain Bonneville, in the
present instance, from detaching small parties of trappers as he
had intended; for his scouts brought him word that formidable
bands of the Banneck Indians were lying on the Boisee and Payette
Rivers, at no great distance, so that they would be apt to detect
and cut off any stragglers. It behooved him, also, to keep his
party together, to guard against any predatory attack upon the
main body; he continued on his way, therefore, without dividing
his forces. And fortunate it was that he did so; for in a little
while he encountered one of the phenomena of the western wilds
that would effectually have prevented his scattered people from
finding each other again. In a word, it was the season of setting
fire to the prairies. As he advanced he began to perceive great
clouds of smoke at a distance, rising by degrees, and spreading
over the whole face of the country. The atmosphere became dry and
surcharged with murky vapor, parching to the skin, and irritating
to the eyes.  When travelling among the hills, they could
scarcely discern objects at the distance of a few paces; indeed,
the least exertion of the vision was painful. There was evidently
some vast conflagration in the direction toward which they were
proceeding; it was as yet at a great distance, and during the day
they could only see the smoke rising in larger and denser
volumes, and rolling forth in an immense canopy. At night the
skies were all glowing with the reflection of unseen fires,
hanging in an immense body of lurid light high above the horizon.

Having reached Gun Creek, an important stream coming from the
left, Captain Bonneville turned up its course, to traverse the
mountain and avoid the great bend of Snake River. Being now out
of the range of the Bannecks, he sent out his people in all
directions to hunt the antelope for present supplies; keeping the
dried meats for places where game might be scarce.

During four days that the party were ascending Gun Creek, the
smoke continued to increase so rapidly that it was impossible to
distinguish the face of the country and ascertain landmarks.
Fortunately, the travellers fell upon an Indian trail. which led
them to the head-waters of the Fourche de Glace or Ice River,
sometimes called the Grand Rond. Here they found all the plains
and valleys wrapped in one vast conflagration; which swept over
the long grass in billows of flame, shot up every bush and tree,
rose in great columns from the groves, and set up clouds of smoke
that darkened the atmosphere. To avoid this sea of fire, the
travellers had to pursue their course close along the foot of the
mountains; but the irritation from the smoke continued to be
tormenting.

The country about the head-waters of the Grand Rond spreads out
into broad and level prairies, extremely fertile, and watered by
mountain springs and rivulets. These prairies are resorted to by
small bands of the Skynses, to pasture their horses, as well as
to banquets upon the salmon which abound in the neighboring
waters. They take these fish in great quantities and without the
least difficulty; simply taking them out of the water with their
hands, as they flounder and struggle in the numerous long shoals
of the principal streams. At the time the travellers passed over
these prairies, some of the narrow, deep streams by which they
were intersected were completely choked with salmon, which they
took in great numbers. The wolves and bears frequent these
streams at this season, to avail themselves of these great
fisheries.

The travellers continued, for many days, to experience great
difficulties and discomforts from this wide conflagration, which
seemed to embrace the whole wilderness. The sun was for a great
part of the time obscured by the smoke, and the loftiest
mountains were hidden from view. Blundering along in this region
of mist and uncertainty, they were frequently obliged to make
long circuits, to avoid obstacles which they could not perceive
until close upon them. The Indian trails were their safest
guides, for though they sometimes appeared to lead them out of
their direct course, they always conducted them to the passes.

On the 26th of August, they reached the head of the Way-lee-way
River.  Here, in a valley of the mountains through which this
head-water makes its way, they found a band of the Skynses, who
were extremely sociable, and appeared to be well disposed, and as
they spoke the Nez Perce language, an intercourse was easily kept
up with them.

In the pastures on the bank of this stream, Captain Bonneville
encamped for a time, for the purpose of recruiting the strength
of his horses.  Scouts were now sent out to explore the
surrounding country, and search for a convenient pass through the
mountains toward the Wallamut or Multnomah. After an absence of
twenty days they returned weary and discouraged.  They had been
harassed and perplexed in rugged mountain defiles, where their
progress was continually impeded by rocks and precipices.  Often
they had been obliged to travel along the edges of frightful
ravines, where a false step would have been fatal.  In one of
these passes, a horse fell from the brink of a precipice, and
would have been dashed to pieces had he not lodged among the
branches of a tree, from which he was extricated with great
difficulty.  These, however, were not the worst of their
difficulties and perils. The great conflagration of the country,
which had harassed the main party in its march, was still more
awful the further this exploring party proceeded. The flames
which swept rapidly over the light vegetation of the prairies
assumed a fiercer character and took a stronger hold amid the
wooded glens and ravines of the mountains. Some of the deep
gorges and defiles sent up sheets of flame, and clouds of lurid
smoke, and sparks and cinders that in the night made them
resemble the craters of volcanoes. The groves and forests, too,
which crowned the cliffs, shot up their towering columns of fire,
and added to the furnace glow of the mountains. With these
stupendous sights were combined the rushing blasts caused by the
rarefied air, which roared and howled through the narrow glens,
and whirled forth the smoke and flames in impetuous wreaths. Ever
and anon, too, was heard the crash of falling trees, sometimes
tumbling from crags and precipices, with tremendous sounds.

In the daytime, the mountains were wrapped in smoke so dense and
blinding, that the explorers, if by chance they separated, could
only find each other by shouting.  Often, too, they had to grope
their way through the yet burning forests, in constant peril from
the limbs and trunks of trees, which frequently fell across their
path. At length they gave up the attempt to find a pass as
hopeless, under actual circumstances, and made their way back to
the camp to report their failure.



                              45.
                                
The Skynses   Their traffic   Hunting   Food   Horses   A horse-
    race   Devotional feeling of the Skynses, Nez Perces and
 Flatheads   Prayers   Exhortations   A preacher on horseback  
 Effect of religion on the manners of the tribes   A new light.

DURING the absence of this detachment, a sociable intercourse had
been kept up between the main party and the Skynses, who had
removed into the neighborhood of the camp. These people dwell
about the waters of the Way-lee-way and the adjacent country, and
trade regularly with the Hudson's Bay Company; generally giving
horses in exchange for the articles of which they stand in need.
They bring beaver skins, also, to the trading posts; not procured
by trapping, but by a course of internal traffic with the shy and
ignorant Shoshokoes and Too-el-icans, who keep in distant and
unfrequented parts of the country, and will not venture near the
trading houses. The Skynses hunt the deer and elk occasionally;
and depend, for a part of the year, on fishing. Their main
subsistence, however, is upon roots, especially the kamash. This
bulbous root is said to be of a delicious flavor, and highly
nutritious. The women dig it up in great quantities, steam it,
and deposit it in caches for winter provisions. It grows
spontaneously, and absolutely covers the plains.

This tribe was comfortably clad and equipped. They had a few
rifles among them, and were extremely desirous of bartering for
those of Captain Bonneville's men; offering a couple of good
running horses for a light rifle. Their first-rate horses,
however, were not to be procured from them on any terms. They
almost invariably use ponies; but of a breed infinitely superior
to any in the United States. They are fond of trying their speed
and bottom, and of betting upon them.

As Captain Bonneville was desirous of judging of the comparative
merit of their horses, he purchased one of their racers, and had
a trial of speed between that, an American, and a Shoshonie,
which were supposed to be well matched.  The race-course was for
the distance of one mile and a half out and back. For the first
half mile the American took the lead by a few hands; but, losing
his wind, soon fell far behind; leaving the Shoshonie and Skynse
to contend together.  For a mile and a half they went head and
head: but at the turn the Skynse took the lead and won the race
with great ease, scarce drawing a quick breath when all was over.

The Skynses, like the Nez Perces and the Flatheads, have a strong
devotional feeling, which has been successfully cultivated by
some of the resident personages of the Hudson's Bay Company.
Sunday is invariably kept sacred among these tribes. They will
not raise their camp on that day, unless in extreme cases of
danger or hunger: neither will they hunt, nor fish, nor trade,
nor perform any kind of labor on that day. A part of it is passed
in prayer and religious ceremonies. Some chief, who is generally
at the same time what is called a "medicine man," assembles the
community. After invoking blessings from the Deity, he addresses
the assemblage, exhorting them to good conduct; to be diligent in
providing for their families; to abstain from lying and stealing;
to avoid quarrelling or cheating in their play, and to be just
and hospitable to all strangers who may be among them. Prayers
and exhortations are also made, early in the morning, on week
days. Sometimes, all this is done by the chief from horseback;
moving slowly about the camp, with his hat on, and uttering his
exhortations with a loud voice. On all occasions, the bystanders
listen with profound attention; and at the end of every sentence
respond one word in unison, apparently equivalent to an amen.
While these prayers and exhortations are going on, every
employment in the camp is suspended. If an Indian is riding by
the place, he dismounts, holds his horse, and attends with
reverence until all is done. When the chief has finished his
prayer or exhortation, he says, "I have done," upon which there
is a general exclamation in unison.
With these religious services, probably derived from the white
men, the tribes above-mentioned mingle some of their old Indian
ceremonials, such as dancing to the cadence of a song or ballad,
which is generally done in a large lodge provided for the
purpose. Besides Sundays, they likewise observe the cardinal
holidays of the Roman Catholic Church.

Whoever has introduced these simple forms of religions among
these poor savages, has evidently understood their characters and
capacities, and effected a great melioration of their manners. Of
this we speak not merely from the testimony of Captain
Bonneville, but likewise from that of Mr. Wyeth, who passed some
months in a travelling camp of the Flatheads. "During the time I
have been with them," says he, "I have never known an instance of
theft among them: the least thing, even to a bead or pin, is
brought to you, if found; and often, things that have been thrown
away. Neither have I known any quarrelling, nor lying. This
absence of all quarrelling the more surprised me, when I came to
see the various occasions that would have given rise to it among
the whites: the crowding together of from twelve to eighteen
hundred horses, which have to be driven into camp at night, to be
picketed, to be packed in the morning; the gathering of fuel in
places where it is extremely scanty. All this, however, is done
without confusion or disturbance.

"They have a mild, playful, laughing disposition; and this is
portrayed in their countenances. They are polite, and
unobtrusive.  When one speaks, the rest pay strict attention:
when he is done, another assents by 'yes,' or dissents by 'no;'
and then states his reasons, which are listened to with equal
attention. Even the children are more peaceable than any other
children. I never heard an angry word among them, nor any
quarrelling; although there were, at least, five hundred of them
together, and continually at play. With all this quietness of
spirit, they are brave when put to the test; and are an overmatch
for an equal number of Blackfeet."

The foregoing observations, though gathered  from Mr. Wyeth as
relative to the Flatheads, apply, in the main, to the Skynses
also.  Captain Bonneville, during his sojourn with the latter,
took constant occasion, in conversing with their principal men,
to encourage them in the cultivation of moral and religious
habits; drawing a comparison between their peaceable and
comfortable course of life and that of other tribes, and
attributing it to their superior sense of morality and religion.
He frequently attended their religious services, with his people;
always enjoining on the latter the most reverential deportment;
and he observed that the poor Indians were always pleased to have
the white men present.

The disposition of these tribes is evidently favorable to a
considerable degree of civilization. A few farmers settled among
them might lead them, Captain Bonneville thinks, to till the
earth and cultivate grain; the country of the Skynses and Nez
Perces is admirably adapted for the raising of cattle. A
Christian missionary or two, and some trifling assistance from
government, to protect them from the predatory and warlike
tribes, might lay the foundation of a Christian people in the
midst of the great western wilderness, who would "wear the
Americans near their hearts."

We must not omit to observe, however, in qualification of the
sanctity of this Sabbath in the wilderness, that these tribes who
are all ardently addicted to gambling and horseracing, make
Sunday a peculiar day for recreations of the kind, not deeming
them in any wise out of season. After prayers and pious
ceremonies are over, there is scarce an hour in the day, says
Captain Bonneville, that you do not see several horses racing at
full speed; and in every corner of the camp are groups of
gamblers, ready to stake everything upon the all-absorbing game
of hand. The Indians, says Wyeth, appear to enjoy their
amusements with more zest than the whites. They are great
gamblers; and in proportion to their means, play bolder and bet
higher than white men.

The cultivation of the religious feeling, above noted, among the
savages, has been at times a convenient policy with some of the
more knowing traders; who have derived great credit and influence
among them by being considered "medicine men;" that is, men
gifted with mysterious knowledge. This feeling is also at times
played upon by religious charlatans, who are to be found in
savage as well as civilized life. One of these was noted by
Wyeth, during his sojourn among the Flat-heads. A new great man,
says he, is rising in the camp, who aims at power and sway. He
covers his designs under the ample cloak of religion; inculcating
some new doctrines and ceremonials among those who are more
simple than himself. He has already made proselytes of one-fifth
of the camp; beginning by working on the women, the children, and
the weak-minded. His followers are all dancing on the plain, to
their own vocal music. The more knowing ones of the tribe look on
and laugh; thinking it all too foolish to do harm; but they will
soon find that women, children, and fools, form a large majority
of every community, and they will have, eventually, to follow the
new light, or be considered among the profane. As soon as a
preacher or pseudo prophet of the kind gets followers enough, he
either takes command of the tribe, or branches off and sets up an
independent chief and "medicine man."



                              46.
                                
 Scarcity in the camp   Refusal of supplies by the Hudson's Bay
Company   Conduct of the Indians   A hungry retreat   John Day's
  River   The Blue Mountains   Salmon fishing on Snake River  
 Messengers from the Crow country   Bear River Valley   immense
  migration of buffalo   Danger of buffalo hunting   A wounded
      Indian   Eutaw Indians   A "surround" of antelopes.

PROVISIONS were now growing scanty in the camp, and Captain
Bonneville found it necessary to seek a new neighborhood. Taking
leave, therefore, of his friends, the Skynses, he set off to the
westward, and, crossing a low range of mountains, encamped on the
head-waters of the Ottolais. Being now within thirty miles of
Fort Wallah-Wallah, the trading post of the Hudson's Bay Company,
he sent a small detachment of men thither to purchase corn for
the subsistence of his party. The men were well received at the
fort; but all supplies for their camp were peremptorily refused.
Tempting offers were made them, however, if they would leave
their present employ, and enter into the service of the company;
but they were not to be seduced.

When Captain Bonneville saw his messengers return empty-handed,
he ordered an instant move, for there was imminent danger of
famine. He pushed forward down the course of the Ottolais, which
runs diagonal to the Columbia, and falls into it about fifty
miles below the Wallah-Wallah. His route lay through a beautiful
undulating country, covered with horses belonging to the Skynses,
who sent them there for pasturage.

On reaching the Columbia, Captain Bonneville hoped to open a
trade with the natives, for fish and other provisions, but to his
surprise they kept aloof, and even hid themselves on his
approach. He soon discovered that they were under the influence
of the Hudson's Bay Company, who had forbidden them to trade, or
hold any communion with him.  He proceeded along the Columbia,
but it was everywhere the same; not an article of provisions was
to be obtained from the natives, and he was at length obliged to
kill a couple of his horses to sustain his famishing people. He
now came to a halt, and consulted what was to be done. The broad
and beautiful Columbia lay before them, smooth and unruffled as a
mirror; a little more journeying would take them to its lower
region; to the noble valley of the Wallamut, their projected
winter quarters. To advance under present circumstances would be
to court starvation. The resources of the country were locked
against them, by the influence of a jealous and powerful
monopoly. If they reached the Wallamut, they could scarcely hope
to obtain sufficient supplies for the winter; if they lingered
any longer in the country the snows would gather upon the
mountains and cut off their retreat. By hastening their return,
they would be able to reach the Blue Mountains just in time to
find the elk, the deer, and the bighorn; and after they had
supplied themselves with provisions, they might push through the
mountains before they were entirely blocked by snow. Influenced
by these considerations, Captain Bonneville reluctantly turned
his back a second time on the Columbia, and set off for the Blue
Mountains. He took his course up John Day's River, so called from
one of the hunters in the original Astorian enterprise. As famine
was at his heels, he travelled fast, and reached the mountains by
the 1st of October. He entered by the opening made by John Day's
River; it was a rugged and difficult defile, but he and his men
had become accustomed to hard scrambles of the kind. Fortunately,
the September rains had extinguished the fires which recently
spread over these regions; and the mountains, no longer wrapped
in smoke, now revealed all their grandeur and sublimity to the
eye.

They were disappointed in their expectation of finding abundant
game in the mountains; large bands of the natives had passed
through, returning from their fishing expeditions, and had driven
all the game before them. It was only now and then that the
hunters could bring in sufficient to keep the party from
starvation.

To add to their distress, they mistook their route, and wandered
for ten days among high and bald hills of clay. At length, after
much perplexity, they made their way to the banks of Snake River,
following the course of which, they were sure to reach their
place of destination.

It was the 20th of October when they found themselves once more
upon this noted stream. The Shoshokoes, whom they had met with in
such scanty numbers on their journey down the river, now
absolutely thronged its banks to profit by the abundance of
salmon, and lay up a stock for winter provisions. Scaffolds were
everywhere erected, and immense quantities of fish drying upon
them. At this season of the year, however, the salmon are
extremely poor, and the travellers needed their keen sauce of
hunger to give them a relish.

In some places the shores were completely covered with a stratum
of dead salmon, exhausted in ascending the river, or destroyed at
the falls; the fetid odor of which tainted the air.

It was not until the travellers reached the head-waters of the
Portneuf that they really found themselves in a region of
abundance. Here the buffaloes were in immense herds; and here
they remained for three days, slaying and cooking, and feasting,
and indemnifying themselves by an enormous carnival, for a long
and hungry Lent. Their horses, too, found good pasturage, and
enjoyed a little rest after a severe spell of hard travelling.

During this period, two horsemen arrived at the camp, who proved
to be messengers sent express for supplies from Montero's party;
which had been sent to beat up the Crow country and the Black
Hills, and to winter on the Arkansas. They reported that all was
well with the party, but that they had not been able to
accomplish the whole of their mission, and were still in the Crow
country, where they should remain until joined by Captain
Bonneville in the spring. The captain retained the messengers
with him until the 17th of November, when, having reached the
caches on Bear River, and procured thence the required supplies,
he sent them back to their party; appointing a rendezvous toward
the last of June following, on the forks of Wind River Valley, in
the Crow country.

He now remained several days encamped near the caches, and having
discovered a small band of Shoshonies in his neighborhood,
purchased from them lodges, furs, and other articles of winter
comfort, and arranged with them to encamp together during the
winter.

The place designed by the captain for the wintering ground was on
the upper part of Bear River, some distance off. He delayed
approaching it as long as possible, in order to avoid driving off
the buffaloes, which would be needed for winter provisions.  He
accordingly moved forward but slowly, merely as the want of game
and grass obliged him to shift his position. The weather had
already become extremely cold, and the snow lay to a considerable
depth. To enable the horses to carry as much dried meat as
possible, he caused a cache to be made, in which all the baggage
that could be spared was deposited. This done, the party
continued to move slowly toward their winter quarters.

They were not doomed, however, to suffer from scarcity during the
present winter.  The people upon Snake River having chased off
the buffaloes before the snow had become deep, immense herds now
came trooping over the mountains; forming dark masses on their
sides, from which their deep-mouthed bellowing sounded like the
low peals and mutterings from a gathering thunder-cloud. In
effect, the cloud broke, and down came the torrent thundering
into the valley. It is utterly impossible, according to Captain
Bonneville, to convey an idea of the effect produced by the sight
of such countless throngs of animals of such bulk and spirit, all
rushing forward as if swept on by a whirlwind.

The long privation which the travellers had suffered gave
uncommon ardor to their present hunting. One of the Indians
attached to the party, finding himself on horseback in the midst
of the buffaloes, without either rifle, or bow and arrows, dashed
after a fine cow that was passing close by him, and plunged his
knife into her side with such lucky aim as to bring her to the
ground.  It was a daring deed; but hunger had made him almost
desperate.

The buffaloes are sometimes tenacious of life, and must be
wounded in particular parts. A ball striking the shagged frontlet
of a bull produces no other effect than a toss of the head and
greater exasperation; on the contrary, a ball striking the
forehead of a cow is fatal. Several instances occurred during
this great hunting bout, of bulls fighting furiously after having
received mortal wounds. Wyeth, also, was witness to an instance
of the kind while encamped with Indians. During a grand hunt of
the buffaloes, one of the Indians pressed a bull so closely that
the animal turned suddenly on him. His horse stopped short, or
started back, and threw him. Before he could rise the bull rushed
furiously upon him, and gored him in the chest so that his breath
came out at the aperture. He was conveyed back to the camp, and
his wound was dressed. Giving himself up for slain, he called
round him his friends, and made his will by word of mouth. It was
something like a death chant, and at the end of every sentence
those around responded in concord. He appeared no ways
intimidated by the approach of death. "I think," adds Wyeth, "the
Indians die better than the white men; perhaps from having less
fear about the future."

The buffaloes may be approached very near, if the hunter keeps to
the leeward; but they are quick of scent, and will take the alarm
and move off from a party of hunters to the windward, even when
two miles distant.

The vast herds which had poured down into the Bear River Valley
were now snow-bound, and remained in the neighborhood of the camp
throughout the winter. This furnished the trappers and their
Indian friends a perpetual carnival; so that, to slay and eat
seemed to be the main occupations of the day. It is astonishing
what loads of meat it requires to cope with the appetite of a
hunting camp.

The ravens and wolves soon came in for their share of the good
cheer. These constant attendants of the hunter gathered in vast
numbers as the winter advanced. They might be completely out of
sight, but at the report of a gun, flights of ravens would
immediately be seen hovering in the air, no one knew whence they
came; while the sharp visages of the wolves would peep down from
the brow of every hill, waiting for the hunter's departure to
pounce upon the carcass.

Besides the buffaloes, there were other neighbors snow-bound in
the valley, whose presence did not promise to be so advantageous.
This was a band of Eutaw Indians who were encamped higher up on
the river. They are a poor tribe that, in a scale of the various
tribes inhabiting these regions, would rank between the
Shoshonies and the Shoshokoes or Root Diggers; though more bold
and warlike than the latter. They have but few rifles among them,
and are generally armed with bows and arrows.

As this band and the Shoshonies were at deadly feud, on account
of old grievances, and as neither party stood in awe of the
other, it was feared some bloody scenes might ensue. Captain
Bonneville, therefore, undertook the office of pacificator, and
sent to the Eutaw chiefs, inviting them to a friendly smoke, in
order to bring about a reconciliation. His invitation was proudly
declined; whereupon he went to them in person, and succeeded in
effecting a suspension of hostilities until the chiefs of the two
tribes could meet in council. The braves of the two rival camps
sullenly acquiesced in the arrangement. They would take their
seats upon the hill tops, and watch their quondam enemies hunting
the buffalo in the plain below, and evidently repine that their
hands were tied up from a skirmish.  The worthy captain, however,
succeeded in carrying through his benevolent mediation. The
chiefs met; the amicable pipe was smoked, the hatchet buried, and
peace formally proclaimed.  After this, both camps united and
mingled in social intercourse. Private quarrels, however, would
occasionally occur in hunting, about the division of the game,
and blows would sometimes be exchanged over the carcass of a
buffalo; but the chiefs wisely took no notice of these individual
brawls.

One day the scouts, who had been ranging the hills, brought news
of several large herds of antelopes in a small valley at no great
distance. This produced a sensation among the Indians, for both
tribes were in ragged condition, and sadly in want of those
shirts made of the skin of the antelope. It was determined to
have "a surround," as the mode of hunting that animal is called.
Everything now assumed an air of mystic solemnity and importance.
The chiefs prepared their medicines or charms each according to
his own method, or fancied inspiration, generally with the
compound of certain simples; others consulted the entrails of
animals which they had sacrificed, and thence drew favorable
auguries. After much grave smoking and deliberating it was at
length proclaimed that all who were able to lift a club, man,
woman, or child, should muster for "the surround." When all had
congregated, they moved in rude procession to the nearest point
of the valley in question, and there halted. Another course of
smoking and deliberating, of which the Indians are so fond, took
place among the chiefs. Directions were then issued for the
horsemen to make a circuit of about seven miles, so as to
encompass the herd. When this was done, the whole mounted force
dashed off simultaneously, at full speed, shouting and yelling at
the top of their voices. In a short space of time the antelopes,
started from their hiding-places, came bounding from all points
into the valley. The riders, now gradually contracting their
circle, brought them nearer and nearer to the spot where the
senior chief, surrounded by the elders, male and female, were
seated in supervision of the chase. The antelopes, nearly
exhausted with fatigue and fright, and bewildered by perpetual
whooping, made no effort to break through the ring of the
hunters, but ran round in small circles, until man, woman, and
child beat them down with bludgeons. Such is the nature of that
species of antelope hunting, technically called "a surround."



                              47.
                                
 A festive winter   Conversion of the Shoshonies   Visit of two
  free trappers    Gayety in the camp   A touch of the tender
    passion   The reclaimed squaw   An Indian fine lady   An
      elopement   A pursuit   Market value of a bad wife.

GAME continued to abound throughout the winter, and the camp was
overstocked with provisions. Beef and venison, humps and
haunches, buffalo tongues and marrow-bones, were constantly
cooking at every fire; and the whole atmosphere was redolent with
the savory fumes of roast meat. It was, indeed, a continual
"feast of fat things," and though there might be a lack of "wine
upon the lees," yet we have shown that a substitute was
occasionally to be found in honey and alcohol.

Both the Shoshonies and the Eutaws conducted themselves with
great propriety. It is true, they now and then filched a few
trifles from their good friends, the Big Hearts, when their backs
were turned; but then, they always treated them to their faces
with the utmost deference and respect, and good-humoredly vied
with the trappers in all kinds of feats of activity and mirthful
sports. The two tribes maintained toward each other, also a
friendliness of aspect which gave Captain Bonneville reason to
hope that all past animosity was effectually buried.

The two rival bands, however, had not long been mingled in this
social manner before their ancient jealousy began to break out in
a new form. The senior chief of the Shoshonies was a thinking
man, and a man of observation. He had been among the Nez Perces,
listened to their new code of morality and religion received from
the white men, and attended their devotional exercises. He had
observed the effect of all this, in elevating the tribe in the
estimation of the white men; and determined, by the same means,
to gain for his own tribe a superiority over their ignorant
rivals, the Eutaws. He accordingly assembled his people, and
promulgated among them the mongrel doctrines and form of worship
of the Nez Perces; recommending the same to their adoption. The
Shoshonies were struck with the novelty, at least, of the
measure, and entered into it with spirit. They began to observe
Sundays and holidays, and to have their devotional dances, and
chants, and other ceremonials, about which the ignorant Eutaws
knew nothing; while they exerted their usual competition in
shooting and horseracing, and the renowned game of hand.

Matters were going on thus pleasantly and prosperously, in this
motley community of white and red men, when, one morning, two
stark free trappers, arrayed in the height of savage finery, and
mounted on steeds as fine and as fiery as themselves, and all
jingling with hawks' bells, came galloping, with whoop and
halloo, into the camp.

They were fresh from the winter encampment of the American Fur
Company, in the Green River Valley; and had come to pay their old
comrades of Captain Bonneville's company a visit. An idea may be
formed from the scenes we have already given of conviviality in
the wilderness, of the manner in which these game birds were
received by those of their feather in the camp; what feasting,
what revelling, what boasting, what bragging, what ranting and
roaring, and racing and gambling, and squabbling and fighting,
ensued among these boon companions. Captain Bonneville, it is
true, maintained always a certain degree of law and order in his
camp, and checked each fierce excess; but the trappers, in their
seasons of idleness and relaxation require a degree of license
and indulgence, to repay them for the long privations and almost
incredible hardships of their periods of active service.

In the midst of all this feasting and frolicking, a freak of the
tender passion intervened, and wrought a complete change in the
scene. Among the Indian beauties in the camp of the Eutaws and
Shoshonies, the free trappers discovered two, who had whilom
figured as their squaws. These connections frequently take place
for a season, and sometimes continue for years, if not
perpetually; but are apt to be broken when the free trapper
starts off, suddenly, on some distant and rough expedition.

In the present instance, these wild blades were anxious to regain
their belles; nor were the latter loath once more to come under
their protection. The free trapper combines, in the eye of an
Indian girl, all that is dashing and heroic in a warrior of her
own race -- whose gait, and garb, and bravery he emulates -- with
all that is gallant and glorious in the white man. And then the
indulgence with which he treats her, the finery in which he decks
her out, the state in which she moves, the sway she enjoys over
both his purse and person; instead of being the drudge and slave
of an Indian husband, obliged to carry his pack, and build his
lodge, and make his fire, and bear his cross humors and dry
blows. No; there is no comparison in the eyes of an aspiring
belle of the wilderness, between a free trapper and an Indian
brave.

With respect to one of the parties the matter was easily
arranged. 'The beauty in question was a pert little Eutaw wench,
that had been taken prisoner, in some war excursion, by a
Shoshonie. She was readily ransomed for a few articles of
trifling value; and forthwith figured about the camp in fine
array, "with rings on her fingers, and bells on her toes," and a
tossed-up coquettish air that made her the envy, admiration, and
abhorrence of all the leathern-dressed, hard-working squaws of
her acquaintance.

As to the other beauty, it was quite a different matter. She had
become the wife of a Shoshonie brave. It is true, he had another
wife, of older date than the one in question; who, therefore,
took command in his household, and treated his new spouse as a
slave; but the latter was the wife of his last fancy, his latest
caprice; and was precious in his eyes. All attempt to bargain
with him, therefore, was useless; the very proposition was
repulsed with anger and disdain. The spirit of the trapper was
roused, his pride was piqued as well as his passion. He
endeavored to prevail upon his quondam mistress to elope with
him. His horses were fleet, the winter nights were long and dark,
before daylight they would be beyond the reach of pursuit; and
once at the encampment in Green River Valley, they might set the
whole band of Shoshonies at defiance.

The Indian girl listened and longed.  Her heart yearned after the
ease and splendor of condition of a trapper's bride, and throbbed
to be free from the capricious control of the premier squaw; but
she dreaded the failure of the plan, and the fury of a Shoshonie
husband. They parted; the Indian girl in tears, and the madcap
trapper more than ever, with his thwarted passion.

Their interviews had, probably, been detected, and the jealousy
of the Shoshonie brave aroused: a clamor of angry voices was
heard in his lodge, with the sound of blows, and of female
weeping and lamenting. At night, as the trapper lay tossing on
his pallet, a soft voice whispered at the door of his lodge. His
mistress stood trembling before him.  She was ready to follow
whithersoever he should lead.

In an instant he was up and out. He had two prime horses, sure
and swift of foot, and of great wind. With stealthy quiet, they
were brought up and saddled; and in a few moments he and his
prize were careering over the snow, with which the whole country
was covered. In the eagerness of escape, they had made no
provision for their journey; days must elapse before they could
reach their haven of safety, and mountains and prairies be
traversed, wrapped in all the desolation of winter. For the
present, however they thought of nothing but flight; urging their
horses forward over the dreary wastes, and fancying, in the
howling of every blast, they heard the yell of the pursuer.

At early dawn, the Shoshonie became aware of his loss. Mounting
his swiftest horse, he set off in hot pursuit. He soon found the
trail of the fugitives, and spurred on in hopes of overtaking
them. The winds, however, which swept the valley, had drifted the
light snow into the prints made by the horses' hoofs. In a little
while he lost all trace of them, and was completely thrown out of
the chase. He knew, however, the situation of the camp toward
which they were bound, and a direct course through the mountains,
by which he might arrive there sooner than the fugitives. Through
the most rugged defiles, therefore, he urged his course by day
and night, scarce pausing until he reached the camp. It was some
time before the fugitives made their appearance. Six days had
they traversed the wintry wilds. They came, haggard with hunger
and fatigue, and their horses faltering under them. The first
object that met their eyes on entering the camp was the Shoshonie
brave. He rushed, knife in hand, to plunge it in the heart that
had proved false to him. The trapper threw himself before the
cowering form of his mistress, and, exhausted as he was, prepared
for a deadly struggle. The Shoshonie paused. His habitual awe of
the white man checked his arm; the trapper's friends crowded to
the spot, and arrested him. A parley ensued. A kind of crim. con.
adjudication took place; such as frequently occurs in civilized
life. A couple of horses were declared to be a fair compensation
for the loss of a woman who had previously lost her heart; with
this, the Shoshonie brave was fain to pacify his passion.  He
returned to Captain Bonneville's camp, somewhat crestfallen, it
is true; but parried the officious condolements of his friends by
observing that two good horses were very good pay for one bad
wife.



                              48.
                                
Breaking up of winter quarters   Move to Green River   A trapper
and his rifle   An arrival in camp   A free trapper and his squaw
           in distress   Story of a Blackfoot belle.

THE winter was now breaking up, the snows were melted, from the
hills, and from the lower parts of the mountains, and the time
for decamping had arrived. Captain Bonneville dispatched a party
to the caches, who brought away all the effects concealed there,
and on the 1st of April (1835) , the camp was broken up, and
every one on the move. The white men and their allies, the Eutaws
and Shoshonies, parted with many regrets and sincere expressions
of good-will; for their intercourse throughout the winter had
been of the most friendly kind.

Captain Bonneville and his party passed by Ham's Fork, and
reached the Colorado, or Green River, without accident, on the
banks of which they remained during the residue of the spring.
During this time, they were conscious that a band of hostile
Indians were hovering about their vicinity, watching for an
opportunity to slay or steal; but the vigilant precautions of
Captain Bonneville baffled all their manoeuvres. In such
dangerous times, the experienced mountaineer is never without his
rifle even in camp. On going from lodge to lodge to visit his
comrades, he takes it with him. On seating himself in a lodge, he
lays it beside him, ready to be snatched up; when he goes out, he
takes it up as regularly as a citizen would his walking-staff.
His rifle is his constant friend and protector.

On the 10th of June, the party was a little to the east of the
Wind River Mountains, where they halted for a time in excellent
pasturage, to give their horses a chance to recruit their
strength for a long journey; for it was Captain Bonneville's
intention to shape his course to the settlements; having already
been detained by the complication of his duties, and by various
losses and impediments, far beyond the time specified in his
leave of absence.

While the party was thus reposing in the neighborhood of the Wind
River Mountains, a solitary free trapper rode one day into the
camp, and accosted Captain Bonneville. He belonged, he said, to a
party of thirty hunters, who had just passed through the
neighborhood, but whom he had abandoned in consequence of their
ill treatment of a brother trapper; whom they had cast off from
their party, and left with his bag and baggage, and an Indian
wife into the bargain, in the midst of a desolate prairie. The
horseman gave a piteous account of the situation of this helpless
pair, and solicited the loan of horses to bring them and their
effects to the camp.

The captain was not a man to refuse assistance to any one in
distress, especially when there was a woman in the case; horses
were immediately dispatched, with an escort, to aid the
unfortunate couple. The next day they made their appearance with
all their effects; the man, a stalwart mountaineer, with a
peculiarly game look; the woman, a young Blackfoot beauty,
arrayed in the trappings and trinketry of a free trapper's bride.

Finding the woman to be quick-witted and communicative, Captain
Bonneville entered into conversation with her, and obtained from
her many particulars concerning the habits and customs of her
tribe; especially their wars and huntings. They pride themselves
upon being the "best legs of the mountains," and hunt the buffalo
on foot. This is done in spring time, when the frosts have thawed
and the ground is soft. The heavy buffaloes then sink over their
hoofs at every step, and are easily overtaken by the Blackfeet,
whose fleet steps press lightly on the surface. It is said,
however, that the buffaloes on the Pacific side of the Rocky
Mountains are fleeter and more active than on the Atlantic side;
those upon the plains of the Columbia can scarcely be overtaken
by a horse that would outstrip the same animal in the
neighborhood of the Platte, the usual hunting ground of the
Blackfeet. In the course of further conversation, Captain
Bonneville drew from the Indian woman her whole story; which gave
a picture of savage life, and of the drudgery and hardships to
which an Indian wife is subject.

"I was the wife," said she, "of a Blackfoot warrior, and I served
him faithfully. Who was so well served as he? Whose lodge was so
well provided, or kept so clean? I brought wood in the morning,
and placed water always at hand. I watched for his coming; and he
found his meat cooked and ready. If he rose to go forth, there
was nothing to delay him. I searched the thought that was in his
heart, to save him the trouble of speaking. When I went abroad on
errands for him, the chiefs and warriors smiled upon me, and the
young braves spoke soft things, in secret; but my feet were in
the straight path, and my eyes could see nothing but him.

"When he went out to hunt, or to war, who aided to equip him, but
I? When he returned, I met him at the door; I took his gun; and
he entered without further thought. While he sat and smoked, I
unloaded his horses; tied them to the stakes, brought in their
loads, and was quickly at his feet. If his moccasins were wet I
took them off and put on others which were dry and warm. I
dressed all the skins he had taken in the chase. He could never
say to me, why is it not done? He hunted the deer, the antelope,
and the buffalo, and he watched for the enemy. Everything else
was done by me. When our people moved their camp, he mounted his
horse and rode away; free as though he had fallen from the skies.
He had nothing to do with the labor of the camp; it was I that
packed the horses and led them on the journey. When we halted in
the evening, and he sat with the other braves and smoked, it was
I that pitched his lodge; and when he came to eat and sleep, his
supper and his bed were ready.

"I served him faithfully; and what was my reward? A cloud was
always on his brow, and sharp lightning on his tongue. I was his
dog; and not his wife.

"Who was it that scarred and bruised me? It was he. My brother
saw how I was treated. His heart was big for me. He begged me to
leave my tyrant and fly. Where could I go? If retaken, who would
protect me? My brother was not a chief; he could not save me from
blows and wounds, perhaps death.  At length I was persuaded. I
followed my brother from the village. He pointed away to the Nez
Perces, and bade me go and live in peace among them. We parted.
On the third day I saw the lodges of the Nez Perces before me. 1
paused for a moment, and had no heart to go on; but my horse
neighed, and I took it as a good sign, and suffered him to gallop
forward. In a little while I was in the midst of the lodges. As I
sat silent on my horse, the people gathered round me, and
inquired whence I came. I told my story. A chief now wrapped his
blanket close around him, and bade me dismount. I obeyed. He took
my horse to lead him away.  My heart grew small within me. I
felt, on parting with my horse, as if my last friend was gone. I
had no words, and my eyes were dry. As he led off my horse a
young brave stepped forward. 'Are you a chief of the people?'
cried he. 'Do we listen to you in council, and follow you in
battle? Behold! a stranger flies to our camp from the dogs of
Blackfeet, and asks protection. Let shame cover your face! The
stranger is a woman, and alone. If she were a warrior, or had a
warrior at her side, your heart would not be big enough to take
her horse. But he is yours. By right of war you may claim him;
but look!' - his bow was drawn, and the arrow ready! - 'you never
shall cross his back!' The arrow pierced the heart of the horse,
and he fell dead.

"An old woman said she would be my mother. She led me to her
lodge; my heart was thawed by her kindness, and my eyes burst
forth with tears; like the frozen fountains in springtime. She
never changed; but as the days passed away, was still a mother to
me. The people were loud in praise of the young brave, and the
chief was ashamed. I lived in peace.

"A party of trappers came to the village, and one of them took me
for his wife. This is he. I am very happy; he treats me with
kindness, and I have taught him the language of my people. As we
were travelling this way, some of the Blackfeet warriors beset
us, and carried off the horses of the party. We followed, and my
husband held a parley with them. The guns were laid down, and the
pipe was lighted; but some of the white men attempted to seize
the horses by force, and then a battle began. The snow was deep,
the white men sank into it at every step; but the red men, with
their snow-shoes, passed over the surface like birds, and drove
off many of the horses in sight of their owners. With those that
remained we resumed our journey. At length words took place
between the leader of the party and my husband. He took away our
horses, which had escaped in the battle, and turned us from his
camp. My husband had one good friend among the trappers. That is
he (pointing to the man who had asked assistance for them). He is
a good man. His heart is big. When he came in from hunting, and
found that we had been driven away, he gave up all his wages, and
followed us, that he might speak good words for us to the white
captain."



                              49.
                                
Rendezvous at Wind River   Campaign of Montero and his brigade in
the Crow country   Wars between the Crows and Blackfeet   Death
   of Arapooish   Blackfeet lurkers   Sagacity of the horse  
     Dependence of the hunter on his horse   Return to the
                          settlements.

ON the 22d of June Captain Bonneville raised his camp, and moved
to the forks of Wind River; the appointed place of rendezvous. 
In a few days he was joined there by the brigade of Montero,
which had been sent, in the preceding year, to beat up the Crow
country, and afterward proceed to the Arkansas.  Montero had
followed the early part of his instructions; after trapping upon
some of the upper streams, he proceeded to Powder River. Here he
fell in with the Crow villages or bands, who treated him with
unusual kindness, and prevailed upon him to take up his winter
quarters among them.

The Crows at that time were struggling almost for existence with
their old enemies, the Blackfeet; who, in the past year, had
picked off the flower of their warriors in various engagements,
and among the rest, Arapooish, the friend of the white men. That
sagacious and magnanimous chief had beheld, with grief, the
ravages which war was making in his tribe, and that it was
declining in force, and must eventually be destroyed unless some
signal blow could be struck to retrieve its fortunes. In a
pitched battle of the two tribes, he made a speech to his
warriors, urging them to set everything at hazard in one furious
charge; which done, he led the way into the thickest of the foe.
He was soon separated from his men, and fell covered with wounds,
but his self-devotion was not in vain. The Blackfeet were
defeated; and from that time the Crows plucked up fresh heart,
and were frequently successful.

Montero had not been long encamped among them, when he discovered
that the Blackfeet were hovering about the neighborhood. One day
the hunters came galloping into the camp, and proclaimed that a
band of the enemy was at hand. The Crows flew to arms, leaped on
their horses, and dashed out in squadrons in pursuit. They
overtook the retreating enemy in the midst of a plain. A
desperate fight ensued. The Crows had the advantage of numbers,
and of fighting on horseback. The greater part of the Blackfeet
were slain; the remnant took shelter in a close thicket of
willows, where the horse could not enter; whence they plied their
bows vigorously.

The Crows drew off out of bow-shot, and endeavored, by taunts and
bravadoes, to draw the warriors Out of their retreat. A few of
the best mounted among them rode apart from the rest. One of
their number then advanced alone, with that martial air and
equestrian grace for which the tribe is noted. When within an
arrow's flight of the thicket, he loosened his rein, urged his
horse to full speed, threw his body on the opposite side, so as
to hang by one leg, and present no mark to the foe; in this way
he swept along in front of the thicket, launching his arrows from
under the neck of his steed. Then regaining his seat in the
saddle, he wheeled round and returned whooping and scoffing to
his companions, who received him with yells of applause.

Another and another horseman repeated this exploit; but the
Blackfeet were not to be taunted out of their safe shelter. The
victors feared to drive desperate men to extremities, so they
forbore to attempt the thicket. Toward night they gave over the
attack, and returned all-glorious with the scalps of the slain.
Then came on the usual feasts and triumphs, the scalp-dance of
warriors round the ghastly trophies, and all the other fierce
revelry of barbarous warfare. When the braves had finished with
the scalps, they were, as usual, given up to the women and
children, and made the objects of new parades and dances. They
were then treasured up as invaluable trophies and decorations by
the braves who had won them.

It is worthy of note, that the scalp of a white man, either
through policy or fear, is treated with more charity than that of
an Indian. The warrior who won it is entitled to his triumph if
he demands it. In such case, the war party alone dance round the
scalp. It is then taken down, and the shagged frontlet of a
buffalo substituted in its place, and abandoned to the triumph
and insults of the million.

To avoid being involved in these guerillas, as well as to escape
from the extremely social intercourse of the Crows, which began
to be oppressive, Montero moved to the distance of several miles
from their camps, and there formed a winter cantonment of huts.
He now maintained a vigilant watch at night. Their horses, which
were turned loose to graze during the day, under heedful eyes,
were brought in at night, and shut up in strong pens, built of
large logs of cotton-wood. The snows, during a portion of the
winter, were so deep that the poor animals could find but little
sustenance. Here and there a tuft of grass would peer above the
snow; but they were in general driven to browse the twigs and
tender branches of the trees. When they were turned out in the
morning, the first moments of freedom from the confinement of the
pen were spent in frisking and gambolling. This done, they went
soberly and sadly to work, to glean their scanty subsistence for
the day. In the meantime the men stripped the bark of the
cotton-wood tree for the evening fodder. As the poor horses would
return toward night, with sluggish and dispirited air, the moment
they saw their owners approaching them with blankets filled with
cotton-wood bark, their whole demeanor underwent a change. A
universal neighing and capering took place; they would rush
forward, smell to the blankets, paw the earth, snort, whinny and
prance round with head and tail erect, until the blankets were
opened, and the welcome provender spread before them. These
evidences of intelligence and gladness were frequently recounted
by the trappers as proving the sagacity of the animal.

These veteran rovers of the mountains look upon their horses as
in some respects gifted with almost human intellect. An old and
experienced trapper, when mounting guard upon the camp in dark
nights and times of peril, gives heedful attention to all the
sounds and signs of the horses. No enemy enters nor approaches
the camp without attracting their notice, and their movements not
only give a vague alarm, but it is said, will even indicate to
the knowing trapper the very quarter whence the danger threatens.

In the daytime, too, while a hunter is engaged on the prairie,
cutting up the deer or buffalo he has slain, he depends upon his
faithful horse as a sentinel. The sagacious animal sees and
smells all round him, and by his starting and whinnying, gives
notice of the approach of strangers. There seems to be a dumb
communion and fellowship, a sort of fraternal sympathy between
the hunter and his horse. They mutually rely upon each other for
company and protection; and nothing is more difficult, it is
said, than to surprise an experienced hunter on the prairie while
his old and favorite steed is at his side.

Montero had not long removed his camp from the vicinity of the
Crows, and fixed himself in his new quarters, when the Blackfeet
marauders discovered his cantonment, and began to haunt the
vicinity, He kept up a vigilant watch, however, and foiled every
attempt of the enemy, who, at length, seemed to have given up in
despair, and abandoned the neighborhood. The trappers relaxed
their vigilance, therefore, and one night, after a day of severe
labor, no guards were posted, and the whole camp was soon asleep.
Toward midnight, however, the lightest sleepers were roused by
the trampling of hoofs; and, giving the alarm, the whole party
were immediately on their legs and hastened to the pens. The bars
were down; but no enemy was to he seen or heard, and the horses
being all found hard by, it was supposed the bars had been left
down through negligence. All were once more asleep, when, in
about an hour there was a second alarm, and it was discovered
that several horses were missing. The rest were mounted, and so
spirited a pursuit took place, that eighteen of the number
carried off were regained, and but three remained in possession
of the enemy. Traps for wolves, had been set about the camp the
preceding day. In the morning it was discovered that a Blackfoot
was entrapped by one of them, but had succeeded in dragging it
off. His trail was followed for a long distance which he must
have limped alone. At length he appeared to have fallen in with
some of his comrades, who had relieved him from his painful
encumbrance.

These were the leading incidents of Montero's campaign in the
Crow country. The united parties now celebrated the 4th of July,
in rough hunters' style, with hearty conviviality; after which
Captain Bonneville made his final arrangements.  Leaving Montero
with a brigade of trappers to open another campaign, he put
himself at the head of the residue of his men, and set off on his
return to civilized life. We shall not detail his journey along
the course of the Nebraska, and so, from point to point of the
wilderness, until he and his band reached the frontier
settlements on the 22d of August.

Here, according to his own account, his cavalcade might have been
taken for a procession of tatterdemalion savages; for the men
were ragged almost to nakedness, and had contracted a wildness of
aspect during three years of wandering in the wilderness. A few
hours in a populous town, however, produced a magical
metamorphosis.  Hats of the most ample brim and longest nap;
coats with buttons that shone like mirrors, and pantaloons of the
most ample plenitude, took place of the well-worn trapper's
equipments; and the happy wearers might be seen strolling about
in all directions, scattering their silver like sailors just from
a cruise.

The worthy captain, however, seems by no means to have shared the
excitement of his men, on finding himself once more in the
thronged resorts of civilized life, but, on the contrary, to have
looked back to the wilderness with regret. "Though the prospect,"
says he, "of once more tasting the blessings of peaceful society,
and passing days and nights under the calm guardianship of the
laws, was not without its attractions; yet to those of us whose
whole lives had been spent in the stirring excitement and
perpetual watchfulness of adventures in the wilderness, the
change was far from promising an increase of that contentment and
inward satisfaction most conducive to happiness.  He who, like
myself, has roved almost from boyhood among the children of the
forest, and over the unfurrowed plains and rugged heights of the
western wastes, will not be startled to learn, that
notwithstanding all the fascinations of the world on this
civilized side of the mountains, I would fain make my bow to the
splendors and gayeties of the metropolis, and plunge again amidst
the hardships and perils of the wilderness."

We have only to add that the affairs of the captain have been
satisfactorily arranged with the War Department, and that he is
actually in service at Fort Gibson, on our western frontier,
where we hope he may meet with further opportunities of indulging
his peculiar tastes, and of collecting graphic and characteristic
details of the great western wilds and their motley inhabitants.

 --

We here close our picturings of the Rocky Mountains and their
wild inhabitants, and of the wild life that prevails there; which
we have been anxious to fix on record, because we are aware that
this singular state of things is full of mutation, and must soon
undergo great changes, if not entirely pass away.  The fur trade
itself, which has given life to all this portraiture, is
essentially evanescent.  Rival parties of trappers soon exhaust
the streams, especially when competition renders them heedless
and wasteful of the beaver. The furbearing animals extinct, a
complete change will come over the scene; the gay free trapper
and his steed, decked out in wild array, and tinkling with bells
and trinketry; the savage war chief, plumed and painted and ever
on the prowl; the traders' cavalcade, winding through defiles or
over naked plains, with the stealthy war party lurking on its
trail; the buffalo chase, the hunting camp, the mad carouse in
the midst of danger, the night attack, the stampede, the scamper,
the fierce skirmish among rocks and cliffs  --  all this romance
of savage life, which yet exists among the mountains, will then
exist but in frontier story, and seem like the fictions of
chivalry or fairy tale.

Some new system of things, or rather some new modification, will
succeed among the roving people of this vast wilderness; but just
as opposite, perhaps, to the inhabitants of civilization. The
great Chippewyan chain of mountains, and the sandy and volcanic
plains which extend on either side, are represented as incapable
of cultivation. The pasturage which prevails there during a
certain portion of the year, soon withers under the aridity of
the atmosphere, and leaves nothing but dreary wastes. An immense
belt of rocky mountains and volcanic plains, several hundred
miles in width, must ever remain an irreclaimable wilderness,
intervening between the abodes of civilization, and affording a
last refuge to the Indian. Here roving tribes of hunters, living
in tents or lodges, and following the migrations of the game, may
lead a life of savage independence, where there is nothing to
tempt the cupidity of the white man. The amalgamation of various
tribes, and of white men of every nation, will in time produce
hybrid races like the mountain Tartars of the Caucasus. 
Possessed as they are of immense droves of horses should they
continue their present predatory and warlike habits, they may in
time become a scourge to the civilized frontiers on either side
of the mountains, as they are at present a terror to the
traveller and trader.

The facts disclosed in the present work clearly manifest the
policy of establishing military posts and a mounted force to
protect our traders in their journeys across the great western
wilds, and of pushing the outposts into the very heart of the
singular wilderness we have laid open, so as to maintain some
degree of sway over the country, and to put an end to the kind of
"blackmail," levied on all occasions by the savage "chivalry of
the mountains."



                            Appendix
                                
       Nathaniel J. Wyeth, and the Trade of the Far West

WE HAVE BROUGHT Captain Bonneville to the end of his western
campaigning; yet we cannot close this work without subjoining
some particulars concerning the fortunes of his contemporary, Mr.
Wyeth; anecdotes of whose enterprise have, occasionally, been
interwoven in the party-colored web of our narrative. Wyeth
effected his intention of establishing a trading post on the
Portneuf, which he named Fort Hall. Here, for the first time, the
American flag was unfurled to the breeze that sweeps the great
naked wastes of the central wilderness. Leaving twelve men here,
with a stock of goods, to trade with the neighboring tribes, he
prosecuted his journey to the Columbia; where he established
another post, called Fort Williams, on Wappatoo Island, at the
mouth of the Wallamut. This was to be the head factory of his
company; whence they were to carry on their fishing and trapping
operations, and their trade with the interior; and where they
were to receive and dispatch their annual ship.

The plan of Mr. Wyeth appears to have been well concerted. He had
observed that the Rocky Mountain Fur Company, the bands of free
trappers, as well as the Indians west of the mountains, depended
for their supplies upon goods brought from St. Louis; which, in
consequence of the expenses and risks of a long land carriage,
were furnished them at an immense advance on first cost. He had
an idea that they might be much more cheaply supplied from the
Pacific side. Horses would cost much less on the borders of the
Columbia than at St. Louis: the transportation by land was much
shorter; and through a country much more safe from the hostility
of savage tribes; which, on the route from and to St. Louis,
annually cost the lives of many men. On this idea, he grounded
his plan. He combined the salmon fishery with the fur trade. A
fortified trading post was to be established on the Columbia, to
carry on a trade with the natives for salmon and peltries, and to
fish and trap on their own account. Once a year, a ship was to
come from the United States, to bring out goods for the interior
trade, and to take home the salmon and furs which had been
collected. Part of the goods, thus brought out, were to be
dispatched to the mountains, to supply the trapping companies and
the Indian tribes, in exchange for their furs; which were to be
brought down to the Columbia, to be sent home in the next annual
ship: and thus an annual round was to be kept up. The profits on
the salmon, it was expected, would cover all the expenses of the
ship; so that the goods brought out, and the furs carried home,
would cost nothing as to freight.

His enterprise was prosecuted with a spirit, intelligence, and
perseverance, that merited success. All the details that we have
met with, prove him to be no ordinary man. He appears to have the
mind to conceive, and the energy to execute extensive and
striking plans. He had once more reared the American flag in the
lost domains of Astoria; and had he been enabled to maintain the
footing he had so gallantly effected, he might have regained for
his country the opulent trade of the Columbia, of which our
statesmen have negligently suffered us to be dispossessed.

It is needless to go into a detail of the variety of accidents
and cross-purposes, which caused the failure of his scheme. They
were such as all undertakings of the kind, involving combined
operations by sea and land, are liable to. What he most wanted,
was sufficient capital to enable him to endure incipient
obstacles and losses; and to hold on until success had time to
spring up from the midst of disastrous experiments.

It is with extreme regret we learn that he has recently been
compelled to dispose of his establishment at Wappatoo Island, to
the Hudson's Bay Company; who, it is but justice to say, have,
according to his own account, treated him throughout the whole of
his enterprise, with great fairness, friendship, and liberality.
That company, therefore, still maintains an unrivalled sway over
the whole country washed by the Columbia and its tributaries. It
has, in fact, as far as its chartered powers permit, followed out
the splendid scheme contemplated by Mr. Astor, when he founded
his establishment at the mouth of the Columbia. From their
emporium of Vancouver, companies are sent forth in every
direction, to supply the interior posts, to trade with the
natives, and to trap upon the various streams. These thread the
rivers, traverse the plains, penetrate to the heart of the
mountains, extend their enterprises northward, to the Russian
possessions, and southward, to the confines of California. Their
yearly supplies are received by sea, at Vancouver; and thence
their furs and peltries are shipped to London. They likewise
maintain a considerable commerce, in wheat and lumber, with the
Pacific islands, and to the north, with the Russian settlements.

Though the company, by treaty, have a right to a participation
only, in the trade of these regions, and are, in fact, but
tenants on sufferance; yet have they quietly availed themselves
of the original oversight, and subsequent supineness of the
American government, to establish a monopoly of the trade of the
river and its dependencies; and are adroitly proceeding to
fortify themselves in their usurpation, by securing all the
strong points of the country.

Fort George, originally Astoria, which was abandoned on the
removal of the main factory to Vancouver, was renewed in 1830;
and is now kept up as a fortified post and trading house. All the
places accessible to shipping have been taken possession of, and
posts recently established at them by the company.

The great capital of this association; their long established
system; their hereditary influence over the Indian tribes; their
internal organization, which makes every thing go on with the
regularity of a machine; and the low wages of their people, who
are mostly Canadians, give them great advantages over the
American traders: nor is it likely the latter will ever be able
to maintain any footing in the land, until the question of
territorial right is adjusted between the two countries. The
sooner that takes place, the better. It is a question too serious
to national pride, if not to national interests, to be slurred
over; and every year is adding to the difficulties which environ
it.

The fur trade, which is now the main object of enterprise west of
the Rocky Mountains, forms but a part of the real resources of
the country. Beside the salmon fishery of the Columbia, which is
capable of being rendered a considerable source of profit; the
great valleys of the lower country, below the elevated volcanic
plateau, are calculated to give sustenance to countless flocks
and herds, and to sustain a great population of graziers and
agriculturists.

 Such, for instance, is the beautiful valley of the Wallamut;
from which the establishment at Vancouver draws most of its
supplies. Here, the company holds mills and farms; and has
provided for some of its superannuated officers and servants.
This valley, above the falls, is about fifty miles wide, and
extends a great distance to the south. The climate is mild, being
sheltered by lateral ranges of mountains; while the soil, for
richness, has been equalled to the best of the Missouri lands.
The valley of the river Des Chutes, is also admirably calculated
for a great grazing country. All the best horses used by the
company for the mountains are raised there. The valley is of such
happy temperature, that grass grows there throughout the year,
and cattle may be left out to pasture during the winter.

These valleys must form the grand points of commencement of the
future settlement of the country; but there must be many such, en
folded in the embraces of these lower ranges of mountains; which,
though at present they lie waste and uninhabited, and to the eye
of the trader and trapper, present but barren wastes, would, in
the hands of skilful agriculturists and husbandmen, soon assume a
different aspect, and teem with waving crops, or be covered with
flocks and herds.

The resources of the country, too, while in the hands of a
company restricted in its trade, can be but partially called
forth; but in the hands of Americans, enjoying a direct trade
with the East Indies, would be brought into quickening activity;
and might soon realize the dream of Mr. Astor, in giving rise to
a flourishing commercial empire.



Wreck of a Japanese Junk on the Northwest Coast 

THE FOLLOWING EXTRACT of a letter which we received, lately, from
Mr. Wyeth, may be interesting, as throwing some light upon the
question as to the manner in which America has been peopled.

     "Are you aware of the fact, that in the winter of 1833,
     a Japanese junk was wrecked on the northwest coast, in
     the neighborhood of Queen Charlotte's Island; and that
     all but two of the crew, then much reduced by
     starvation and disease, during a long drift across the
     Pacific, were killed by the natives? The two fell into
     the hands of the Hudson's Bay Company, and were sent to
     England. I saw them, on my arrival at Vancouver, in
     1834." 






Instructions to Captain Bonneville from the Major-General
Commanding the Army of the United States.

Copy

                                      Head Quarters of the Army. 
                                      Washington 29th July 1831. 

Sir,

The leave of absence which you have asked for the purpose of
enabling you to carry into execution your designs of exploring
the country to the Rocky Mountains, and beyond with a view of
assertaining the nature and character of the various tribes of
Indians inhabiting those regions; the trade which might be
profitably carried on with them, the quality of the soil, the
productions, the minerals, the natural history, the climate, the
Geography, and Topography, as well as Geology of the various
parts of the Country within the limits of the Territories
belonging to the United States, between our frontier, and the
Pacific; has been duly considered, and submitted to the War
Department, for approval, and has been sanctioned. 

You are therefore authorised to be absent from the Army untill
October 1833. 

It is understood that the Government is to be at no expence, in
reference to your proposed expedition, it having originated with
yourself, and all that you required was the permission from the
proper authority to undertake the enterprise. You will naturally
in providing your self for the expedition, provide suitable
instruments, and especially the best Maps of the interior to be
found. It is desirable besides what is enumerated as the object
of enterprise that you note particularly the number of Warriors
that may belong to each tribe, or nation that you may meet with:
their alliances with other tribes and their relative position as
to a state of peace or war, and whether their friendly or warlike
dispositions towards each other are recent or of long standing.
You will gratify us by describing the manner of their making War,
of the mode of subsisting themselves during a state of war, and a
state of peace, their Arms, and the effect of them, whether they
act on foot or on horse back, detailing the discipline, and
manuvers of the war parties, the power of their horses, size and
general discription; in short any information which you may
conceive would be useful to the Government.  You will avail
yourself of every opportunity of informing us of your position
and progress, and at the expiration of your leave of absence will
join your proper station.

I have the honor to be Sir,
Your Ot St

(Signed) Alexr Macomb Maj Genl Comg

To Cap: B. L E Bonneville
7th Regt Infantry
New York





End of Project Gutenberg Etext of The Adventures of Captain Bonneville

