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The Adventures of Captain Bonneville, U. S. A., in the Rocky Mountains and the Far West

by Washington Irving · English · Gutenberg #1372 · 709,859 chars · public domain (US)

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Title: The Adventures of Captain Bonneville, U. S. A., in the Rocky Mountains and the Far West

Author: Washington Irving
        Benjamin Louis Eulalie de Bonneville


        
Release date: February 19, 2006 [eBook #1372]
                Most recently updated: October 29, 2024

Language: English

Other information and formats: www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/1372

Credits: Produced by An Anonymous Volunteer and David Widger


*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE ADVENTURES OF CAPTAIN BONNEVILLE, U. S. A., IN THE ROCKY MOUNTAINS AND THE FAR WEST ***

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 half-savage 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 in the plains
below; but it is deeper and clearer, and rushes with a stronger current.
The scenery, also, is more varied and beautiful. Sometimes it glides
rapidly but smoothly through a picturesque valley, between wooded banks;
then, forcing its way into the bosom of rugged mountains, it rushes
impetuously through narrow defiles, roaring and foaming down rocks and
rapids, until it is again soothed to rest in some peaceful valley.

On the 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 Seedskedee--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 garcons, 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

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