hills near Snake River, seated before their fire, enjoying a hearty
supper, they were suddenly surprised by the visit of an uninvited guest.
He was a ragged, half-naked Indian hunter, armed with bow and arrows,
and had the carcass of a fine buck thrown across his shoulder. Advancing
with an alert step, and free and easy air, he threw the buck on the
ground, and, without waiting for an invitation, seated himself at their
mess, helped himself without ceremony, and chatted to the right and left
in the liveliest and most unembarrassed manner. No adroit and veteran
dinner hunter of a metropolis could have acquitted himself more
knowingly. The travellers were at first completely taken by surprise,
and could not but admire the facility with which this ragged cosmopolite
made himself at home among them. While they stared he went on, making
the most of the good cheer upon which he had so fortunately alighted;
and was soon elbow deep in “pot luck,” and greased from the tip of his
nose to the back of his ears.
As the company recovered from their surprise, they began to feel annoyed
at this intrusion. Their uninvited guest, unlike the generality of his
tribe, was somewhat dirty as well as ragged and they had no relish
for such a messmate. Heaping up, therefore, an abundant portion of the
“provant” upon a piece of bark, which served for a dish, they invited
him to confine himself thereto, instead of foraging in the general mess.
He complied with the most accommodating spirit imaginable; and went on
eating and chatting, and laughing and smearing himself, until his whole
countenance shone with grease and good-humor. In the course of his
repast, his attention was caught by the figure of the gastronome, who,
as usual, was gorging himself in dogged silence. A droll cut of the
eye showed either that he knew him of old, or perceived at once his
characteristics. He immediately made him the butt of his pleasantries;
and cracked off two or three good hits, that caused the sluggish dolt
to prick up his ears, and delighted all the company. From this time, the
uninvited guest was taken into favor; his jokes began to be relished;
his careless, free and easy air, to be considered singularly amusing;
and in the end, he was pronounced by the travellers one of the merriest
companions and most entertaining vagabonds they had met with in the
wilderness.
Supper being over, the redoubtable Shee-wee-she-ouaiter, for such was
the simple name by which he announced himself, declared his intention
of keeping company with the party for a day or two, if they had no
objection; and by way of backing his self-invitation, presented the
carcass of the buck as an earnest of his hunting abilities. By this
time, he had so completely effaced the unfavorable impression made by
his first appearance, that he was made welcome to the camp, and the
Nez Perce guide undertook to give him lodging for the night. The next
morning, at break of day, he borrowed a gun, and was off among the
hills, nor was anything more seen of him until a few minutes after the
party had encamped for the evening, when he again made his appearance,
in his usual frank, careless manner, and threw down the carcass of
another noble deer, which he had borne on his back for a considerable
distance.
This evening he was the life of the party, and his open communicative
disposition, free from all disguise, soon put them in possession of
his history. He had been a kind of prodigal son in his native village;
living a loose, heedless life, and disregarding the precepts and
imperative commands of the chiefs. He had, in consequence, been expelled
from the village, but, in nowise disheartened at this banishment, had
betaken himself to the society of the border Indians, and had led a
careless, haphazard, vagabond life, perfectly consonant to his humors;
heedless of the future, so long as he had wherewithal for the present;
and fearing no lack of food, so long as he had the implements of the
chase, and a fair hunting ground.
Finding him very expert as a hunter, and being pleased with his
eccentricities, and his strange and merry humor, Captain Bonneville
fitted him out handsomely as the Nimrod of the party, who all soon
became quite attached to him. One of the earliest and most signal
services he performed, was to exorcise the insatiate kill-crop that
hitherto oppressed the party. In fact, the doltish Nez Perce, who had
seemed so perfectly insensible to rough treatment of every kind, by
which the travellers had endeavored to elbow him out of their society,
could not withstand the good-humored bantering, and occasionally sharp
wit of She-wee-she. He evidently quailed under his jokes, and sat
blinking like an owl in daylight, when pestered by the flouts and
peckings of mischievous birds. At length his place was found vacant at
meal-time; no one knew when he went off, or whither he had gone, but he
was seen no more, and the vast surplus that remained when the repast was
over, showed what a mighty gormandizer had departed.
Relieved from this incubus, the little party now went on cheerily.
She-wee-she kept them in fun as well as food. His hunting was always
successful; he was ever ready to render any assistance in the camp or
on the march; while his jokes, his antics, and the very cut of
his countenance, so full of whim and comicality, kept every one in
good-humor.
In this way they journeyed on until they arrived on the banks of the
Immahah, and encamped near to the Nez Perce lodges. Here She-wee-she
took a sudden notion to visit his people, and show off the state of
worldly prosperity to which he had so suddenly attained. He accordingly
departed in the morning, arrayed in hunter’s style, and well appointed
with everything benefitting his vocation. The buoyancy of his gait, the
elasticity of his step, and the hilarity of his countenance, showed that
he anticipated, with chuckling satisfaction, the surprise he was about
to give those who had ejected him from their society in rags. But what
a change was there in his whole appearance when he rejoined the party in
the evening! He came skulking into camp like a beaten cur, with his tail
between his legs. All his finery was gone; he was naked as when he was
born, with the exception of a scanty flap that answered the purpose of a
fig leaf. His fellow-travellers at first did not know him, but supposed
it to be some vagrant Root Digger sneaking into the camp; but when they
recognized in this forlorn object their prime wag, She-wee-she, whom
they had seen depart in the morning in such high glee and high feather,
they could not contain their merriment, but hailed him with loud and
repeated peals of laughter.
She-wee-she was not of a spirit to be easily cast down; he soon joined
in the merriment as heartily as any one, and seemed to consider his
reverse of fortune an excellent joke. Captain Bonneville, however,
thought proper to check his good-humor, and demanded, with some degree
of sternness, the cause of his altered condition. He replied in the most
natural and self-complacent style imaginable, “that he had been among
his cousins, who were very poor; they had been delighted to see him;
still more delighted with his good fortune; they had taken him to their
arms; admired his equipments; one had begged for this; another for
that”--in fine, what with the poor devil’s inherent heedlessness, and
the real generosity of his disposition, his needy cousins had succeeded
in stripping him of all his clothes and accoutrements, excepting the fig
leaf with which he had returned to camp.
Seeing his total want of care and forethought, Captain Bonneville
determined to let him suffer a little, in hopes it might prove a
salutary lesson; and, at any rate, to make him no more presents while in
the neighborhood of his needy cousins. He was left, therefore, to shift
for himself in his naked condition; which, however, did not seem to give
him any concern, or to abate one jot of his good-humor. In the course of
his lounging about the camp, however, he got possession of a deer skin;
whereupon, cutting a slit in the middle, he thrust his head through it,
so that the two ends hung down before and behind, something like a South
American poncho, or the tabard of a herald. These ends he tied together,
under the armpits; and thus arrayed, presented himself once more before
the captain, with an air of perfect self-satisfaction, as though he
thought it impossible for any fault to be found with his toilet.
A little further journeying brought the travellers to the petty village
of Nez Perces, governed by the worthy and affectionate old patriarch who
had made Captain Bonneville the costly present of the very fine horse.
The old man welcomed them once more to his village with his usual
cordiality, and his respectable squaw and hopeful son, cherishing
grateful recollections of the hatchet and ear-bobs, joined in a chorus
of friendly gratulation.
As the much-vaunted steed, once the joy and pride of this interesting
family, was now nearly knocked up by travelling, and totally inadequate
to the mountain scramble that lay ahead, Captain Bonneville restored
him to the venerable patriarch, with renewed acknowledgments for the
invaluable gift. Somewhat to his surprise, he was immediately supplied
with a fine two years’ old colt in his stead, a substitution which he
afterward learnt, according to Indian custom in such cases, he might
have claimed as a matter of right. We do not find that any after claims
were made on account of this colt. This donation may be regarded,
therefore, as a signal punctilio of Indian honor; but it will be found
that the animal soon proved an unlucky acquisition to the party.
While at this village, the Nez Perce guide had held consultations with
some of the inhabitants as to the mountain tract the party were about
to traverse. He now began to wear an anxious aspect, and to indulge in
gloomy forebodings. The snow, he had been told, lay to a great depth
in the passes of the mountains, and difficulties would increase as
he proceeded. He begged Captain Bonneville, therefore, to travel very
slowly, so as to keep the horses in strength and spirit for the
hard times they would have to encounter. The captain surrendered the
regulation of the march entirely to his discretion, and pushed on in the
advance, amusing himself with hunting, so as generally to kill a deer
or two in the course of the day, and arriving, before the rest of the
party, at the spot designated by the guide for the evening’s encampment.
In the meantime, the others plodded on at the heels of the guide,
accompanied by that merry vagabond, She-wee-she. The primitive garb worn
by this droll left all his nether man exposed to the biting blasts of
the mountains. Still his wit was never frozen, nor his sunshiny temper
beclouded; and his innumerable antics and practical jokes, while they
quickened the circulation of his own blood, kept his companions in high
good-humor.
So passed the first day after the departure from the patriarch’s. The
second day commenced in the same manner; the captain in the advance, the
rest of the party following on slowly. She-wee-she, for the greater part
of the time, trudged on foot over the snow, keeping himself warm by hard
exercise, and all kinds of crazy capers. In the height of his foolery,
the patriarchal colt, which, unbroken to the saddle, was suffered to
follow on at large, happened to come within his reach. In a moment, he
was on his back, snapping his fingers, and yelping with delight. The
colt, unused to such a burden, and half wild by nature, fell to prancing
and rearing and snorting and plunging and kicking; and, at length,
set off full speed over the most dangerous ground. As the route led
generally along the steep and craggy sides of the hills, both horse and
horseman were constantly in danger, and more than once had a hairbreadth
escape from deadly peril. Nothing, however, could daunt this madcap
savage. He stuck to the colt like a plaister [sic], up ridges, down
gullies; whooping and yelling with the wildest glee. Never did beggar
on horseback display more headlong horsemanship. His companions followed
him with their eyes, sometimes laughing, sometimes holding in their
breath at his vagaries, until they saw the colt make a sudden plunge or
start, and pitch his unlucky rider headlong over a precipice. There was
a general cry of horror, and all hastened to the spot. They found the
poor fellow lying among the rocks below, sadly bruised and mangled.
It was almost a miracle that he had escaped with life. Even in this
condition, his merry spirit was not entirely quelled, and he summoned up
a feeble laugh at the alarm and anxiety of those who came to his relief.
He was extricated from his rocky bed, and a messenger dispatched to
inform Captain Bonneville of the accident. The latter returned with all
speed, and encamped the party at the first convenient spot. Here the
wounded man was stretched upon buffalo skins, and the captain, who
officiated on all occasions as doctor and surgeon to the party,
proceeded to examine his wounds. The principal one was a long and deep
gash in the thigh, which reached to the bone. Calling for a needle and
thread, the captain now prepared to sew up the wound, admonishing the
patient to submit to the operation with becoming fortitude. His gayety
was at an end; he could no longer summon up even a forced smile; and,
at the first puncture of the needle, flinched so piteously, that the
captain was obliged to pause, and to order him a powerful dose of
alcohol. This somewhat rallied up his spirit and warmed his heart; all
the time of the operation, however, he kept his eyes riveted on the
wound, with his teeth set, and a whimsical wincing of the countenance,
that occasionally gave his nose something of its usual comic curl.
When the wound was fairly closed, the captain washed it with rum, and
administered a second dose of the same to the patient, who was tucked in
for the night, and advised to compose himself to sleep. He was restless
and uneasy, however; repeatedly expressing his fears that his leg would
be so much swollen the next day, as to prevent his proceeding with the
party; nor could he be quieted, until the captain gave a decided opinion
favorable to his wishes.
Early the next morning, a gleam of his merry humor returned, on finding
that his wounded limb retained its natural proportions. On attempting
to use it, however, he found himself unable to stand. He made several
efforts to coax himself into a belief that he might still continue
forward; but at length, shook his head despondingly, and said, that
“as he had but one leg,” it was all in vain to attempt a passage of the
mountain.
Every one grieved to part with so boon a companion, and under such
disastrous circumstances. He was once more clothed and equipped, each
one making him some parting present. He was then helped on a horse,
which Captain Bonneville presented to him; and after many parting
expressions of good will on both sides, set off on his return to his old
haunts; doubtless, to be once more plucked by his affectionate but needy
cousins.
36.
The difficult mountain--A smoke and consultation--The
captain’s speech--An icy turnpike--Danger of a false step--
Arrival on Snake River--Return to--Portneuf--Meeting of
comrades
CONTINUING THEIR JOURNEY UP the course of the Immahah, the travellers
found, as they approached the headwaters, the snow increased in
quantity, so as to lie two feet deep. They were again obliged,
therefore, to beat down a path for their horses, sometimes travelling
on the icy surface of the stream. At length they reached the place where
they intended to scale the mountains; and, having broken a pathway to
the foot, were agreeably surprised to find that the wind had drifted the
snow from off the side, so that they attained the summit with but little
difficulty. Here they encamped, with the intention of beating a track
through the mountains. A short experiment, however, obliged them to give
up the attempt, the snow lying in vast drifts, often higher than the
horses’ heads.
Captain Bonneville now took the two Indian guides, and set out to
reconnoitre the neighborhood. Observing a high peak which overtopped the
rest, he climbed it, and discovered from the summit a pass about
nine miles long, but so heavily piled with snow, that it seemed
impracticable. He now lit a pipe, and, sitting down with the two guides,
proceeded to hold a consultation after the Indian mode. For a long while
they all smoked vigorously and in silence, pondering over the subject
matter before them. At length a discussion commenced, and the opinion in
which the two guides concurred was, that the horses could not possibly
cross the snows. They advised, therefore, that the party should proceed
on foot, and they should take the horses back to the village, where they
would be well taken care of until Captain Bonneville should send for
them. They urged this advice with great earnestness; declaring that
their chief would be extremely angry, and treat them severely, should
any of the horses of his good friends, the white men, be lost, in
crossing under their guidance; and that, therefore, it was good they
should not attempt it.
Captain Bonneville sat smoking his pipe, and listening to them with
Indian silence and gravity. When they had finished, he replied to them
in their own style of language.
“My friends,” said he, “I have seen the pass, and have listened to your
words; you have little hearts. When troubles and dangers lie in your
way, you turn your backs. That is not the way with my nation. When great
obstacles present, and threaten to keep them back, their hearts swell,
and they push forward. They love to conquer difficulties. But enough for
the present. Night is coming on; let us return to our camp.”
He moved on, and they followed in silence. On reaching the camp, he
found the men extremely discouraged. One of their number had been
surveying the neighborhood, and seriously assured them that the snow was
at least a hundred feet deep. The captain cheered them up, and diffused
fresh spirit in them by his example. Still he was much perplexed how to
proceed. About dark there was a slight drizzling rain. An expedient now
suggested itself. This was to make two light sleds, place the packs on
them, and drag them to the other side of the mountain, thus forming
a road in the wet snow, which, should it afterward freeze, would be
sufficiently hard to bear the horses. This plan was promptly put into
execution; the sleds were constructed, the heavy baggage was drawn
backward and forward until the road was beaten, when they desisted
from their fatiguing labor. The night turned out clear and cold, and by
morning, their road was incrusted with ice sufficiently strong for their
purpose. They now set out on their icy turnpike, and got on well enough,
excepting that now and then a horse would sidle out of the track, and
immediately sink up to the neck. Then came on toil and difficulty, and
they would be obliged to haul up the floundering animal with ropes. One,
more unlucky than the rest, after repeated falls, had to be abandoned in
the snow. Notwithstanding these repeated delays, they succeeded, before
the sun had acquired sufficient power to thaw the snow, in getting all
the rest of their horses safely to the other side of the mountain.
Their difficulties and dangers, however, were not yet at an end. They
had now to descend, and the whole surface of the snow was glazed with
ice. It was necessary; therefore, to wait until the warmth of the sun
should melt the glassy crust of sleet, and give them a foothold in
the yielding snow. They had a frightful warning of the danger of
any movement while the sleet remained. A wild young mare, in her
restlessness, strayed to the edge of a declivity. One slip was fatal
to her; she lost her balance, careered with headlong velocity down the
slippery side of the mountain for more than two thousand feet, and was
dashed to pieces at the bottom. When the travellers afterward sought
the carcass to cut it up for food, they found it torn and mangled in the
most horrible manner.
It was quite late in the evening before the party descended to the
ultimate skirts of the snow. Here they planted large logs below them
to prevent their sliding down, and encamped for the night. The next day
they succeeded in bringing down their baggage to the encampment; then
packing all up regularly, and loading their horses, they once more
set out briskly and cheerfully, and in the course of the following day
succeeded in getting to a grassy region.
Here their Nez Perce guides declared that all the difficulties of the
mountains were at an end, and their course was plain and simple, and
needed no further guidance; they asked leave, therefore, to return
home. This was readily granted, with many thanks and presents for their
faithful services. They took a long farewell smoke with their white
friends, after which they mounted their horses and set off, exchanging
many farewells and kind wishes.
On the following day, Captain Bonneville completed his journey down the
mountain, and encamped on the borders of Snake River, where he found
the grass in great abundance and eight inches in height. In this
neighborhood, he saw on the rocky banks of the river several prismoids
of basaltes, rising to the height of fifty or sixty feet.
Nothing particularly worthy of note occurred during several days as the
party proceeded up along Snake River and across its tributary streams.
After crossing Gun Creek, they met with various signs that white people
were in the neighborhood, and Captain Bonneville made earnest exertions
to discover whether they were any of his own people, that he might join
them. He soon ascertained that they had been starved out of this tract
of country, and had betaken themselves to the buffalo region, whither he
now shaped his course. In proceeding along Snake River, he found small
hordes of Shoshonies lingering upon the minor streams, and living upon
trout and other fish, which they catch in great numbers at this season
in fish-traps. The greater part of the tribe, however, had penetrated
the mountains to hunt the elk, deer, and ahsahta or bighorn.
On the 12th of May, Captain Bonneville reached the Portneuf River, in
the vicinity of which he had left the winter encampment of his company
on the preceding Christmas day. He had then expected to be back by the
beginning of March, but circumstances had detained him upward of two
months beyond the time, and the winter encampment must long ere this
have been broken up. Halting on the banks of the Portneuf, he dispatched
scouts a few miles above, to visit the old camping ground and search for
signals of the party, or of their whereabouts, should they actually
have abandoned the spot. They returned without being able to ascertain
anything.
Being now destitute of provisions, the travellers found it necessary
to make a short hunting excursion after buffalo. They made caches,
therefore, on an island in the river, in which they deposited all their
baggage, and then set out on their expedition. They were so fortunate as
to kill a couple of fine bulls, and cutting up the carcasses, determined
to husband this stock of provisions with the most miserly care, lest
they should again be obliged to venture into the open and dangerous
hunting grounds. Returning to their island on the 18th of May, they
found that the wolves had been at the caches, scratched up the contents,
and scattered them in every direction. They now constructed a more
secure one, in which they deposited their heaviest articles, and then
descended Snake River again, and encamped just above the American Falls.
Here they proceeded to fortify themselves, intending to remain here,
and give their horses an opportunity to recruit their strength with good
pasturage, until it should be time to set out for the annual rendezvous
in Bear River valley.