swiftest horse, he set off in hot pursuit. He soon found the trail of
the fugitives, and spurred on in hopes of overtaking them. The winds,
however, which swept the valley, had drifted the light snow into the
prints made by the horses’ hoofs. In a little while he lost all trace of
them, and was completely thrown out of the chase. He knew, however, the
situation of the camp toward which they were bound, and a direct course
through the mountains, by which he might arrive there sooner than the
fugitives. Through the most rugged defiles, therefore, he urged his
course by day and night, scarce pausing until he reached the camp. It
was some time before the fugitives made their appearance. Six days had
they traversed the wintry wilds. They came, haggard with hunger and
fatigue, and their horses faltering under them. The first object that
met their eyes on entering the camp was the Shoshonie brave. He rushed,
knife in hand, to plunge it in the heart that had proved false to him.
The trapper threw himself before the cowering form of his mistress,
and, exhausted as he was, prepared for a deadly struggle. The Shoshonie
paused. His habitual awe of the white man checked his arm; the trapper’s
friends crowded to the spot, and arrested him. A parley ensued. A kind
of crim. con. adjudication took place; such as frequently occurs
in civilized life. A couple of horses were declared to be a fair
compensation for the loss of a woman who had previously lost her heart;
with this, the Shoshonie brave was fain to pacify his passion. He
returned to Captain Bonneville’s camp, somewhat crestfallen, it is true;
but parried the officious condolements of his friends by observing that
two good horses were very good pay for one bad wife.
48.
Breaking up of winter quarters--Move to Green River--A
trapper and his rifle--An arrival in camp--A free trapper
and his squaw in distress--Story of a Blackfoot belle.
THE winter was now breaking up, the snows were melted, from the hills,
and from the lower parts of the mountains, and the time for decamping
had arrived. Captain Bonneville dispatched a party to the caches, who
brought away all the effects concealed there, and on the 1st of April
(1835), the camp was broken up, and every one on the move. The white
men and their allies, the Eutaws and Shoshonies, parted with many
regrets and sincere expressions of good-will; for their intercourse
throughout the winter had been of the most friendly kind.
Captain Bonneville and his party passed by Ham’s Fork, and reached the
Colorado, or Green River, without accident, on the banks of which they
remained during the residue of the spring. During this time, they were
conscious that a band of hostile Indians were hovering about their
vicinity, watching for an opportunity to slay or steal; but the vigilant
precautions of Captain Bonneville baffled all their manoeuvres. In such
dangerous times, the experienced mountaineer is never without his rifle
even in camp. On going from lodge to lodge to visit his comrades, he
takes it with him. On seating himself in a lodge, he lays it beside him,
ready to be snatched up; when he goes out, he takes it up as regularly
as a citizen would his walking-staff. His rifle is his constant friend
and protector.
On the 10th of June, the party was a little to the east of the Wind
River Mountains, where they halted for a time in excellent pasturage, to
give their horses a chance to recruit their strength for a long journey;
for it was Captain Bonneville’s intention to shape his course to the
settlements; having already been detained by the complication of his
duties, and by various losses and impediments, far beyond the time
specified in his leave of absence.
While the party was thus reposing in the neighborhood of the Wind River
Mountains, a solitary free trapper rode one day into the camp, and
accosted Captain Bonneville. He belonged, he said, to a party of thirty
hunters, who had just passed through the neighborhood, but whom he had
abandoned in consequence of their ill treatment of a brother trapper;
whom they had cast off from their party, and left with his bag and
baggage, and an Indian wife into the bargain, in the midst of a desolate
prairie. The horseman gave a piteous account of the situation of this
helpless pair, and solicited the loan of horses to bring them and their
effects to the camp.
The captain was not a man to refuse assistance to any one in distress,
especially when there was a woman in the case; horses were immediately
dispatched, with an escort, to aid the unfortunate couple. The next day
they made their appearance with all their effects; the man, a stalwart
mountaineer, with a peculiarly game look; the woman, a young Blackfoot
beauty, arrayed in the trappings and trinketry of a free trapper’s
bride.
Finding the woman to be quick-witted and communicative, Captain
Bonneville entered into conversation with her, and obtained from
her many particulars concerning the habits and customs of her tribe;
especially their wars and huntings. They pride themselves upon being the
“best legs of the mountains,” and hunt the buffalo on foot. This is done
in spring time, when the frosts have thawed and the ground is soft. The
heavy buffaloes then sink over their hoofs at every step, and are easily
overtaken by the Blackfeet, whose fleet steps press lightly on the
surface. It is said, however, that the buffaloes on the Pacific side
of the Rocky Mountains are fleeter and more active than on the Atlantic
side; those upon the plains of the Columbia can scarcely be overtaken by
a horse that would outstrip the same animal in the neighborhood of the
Platte, the usual hunting ground of the Blackfeet. In the course of
further conversation, Captain Bonneville drew from the Indian woman her
whole story; which gave a picture of savage life, and of the drudgery
and hardships to which an Indian wife is subject.
“I was the wife,” said she, “of a Blackfoot warrior, and I served
him faithfully. Who was so well served as he? Whose lodge was so well
provided, or kept so clean? I brought wood in the morning, and placed
water always at hand. I watched for his coming; and he found his meat
cooked and ready. If he rose to go forth, there was nothing to delay
him. I searched the thought that was in his heart, to save him the
trouble of speaking. When I went abroad on errands for him, the chiefs
and warriors smiled upon me, and the young braves spoke soft things,
in secret; but my feet were in the straight path, and my eyes could see
nothing but him.
“When he went out to hunt, or to war, who aided to equip him, but I?
When he returned, I met him at the door; I took his gun; and he entered
without further thought. While he sat and smoked, I unloaded his horses;
tied them to the stakes, brought in their loads, and was quickly at his
feet. If his moccasins were wet I took them off and put on others which
were dry and warm. I dressed all the skins he had taken in the chase.
He could never say to me, why is it not done? He hunted the deer, the
antelope, and the buffalo, and he watched for the enemy. Everything else
was done by me. When our people moved their camp, he mounted his horse
and rode away; free as though he had fallen from the skies. He had
nothing to do with the labor of the camp; it was I that packed the
horses and led them on the journey. When we halted in the evening,
and he sat with the other braves and smoked, it was I that pitched his
lodge; and when he came to eat and sleep, his supper and his bed were
ready.
“I served him faithfully; and what was my reward? A cloud was always on
his brow, and sharp lightning on his tongue. I was his dog; and not his
wife.
“Who was it that scarred and bruised me? It was he. My brother saw how
I was treated. His heart was big for me. He begged me to leave my tyrant
and fly. Where could I go? If retaken, who would protect me? My brother
was not a chief; he could not save me from blows and wounds, perhaps
death. At length I was persuaded. I followed my brother from the
village. He pointed away to the Nez Perces, and bade me go and live in
peace among them. We parted. On the third day I saw the lodges of the
Nez Perces before me. I paused for a moment, and had no heart to go on;
but my horse neighed, and I took it as a good sign, and suffered him to
gallop forward. In a little while I was in the midst of the lodges. As
I sat silent on my horse, the people gathered round me, and inquired
whence I came. I told my story. A chief now wrapped his blanket close
around him, and bade me dismount. I obeyed. He took my horse to lead him
away. My heart grew small within me. I felt, on parting with my horse,
as if my last friend was gone. I had no words, and my eyes were dry. As
he led off my horse a young brave stepped forward. ‘Are you a chief of
the people?’ cried he. ‘Do we listen to you in council, and follow
you in battle? Behold! a stranger flies to our camp from the dogs of
Blackfeet, and asks protection. Let shame cover your face! The stranger
is a woman, and alone. If she were a warrior, or had a warrior at her
side, your heart would not be big enough to take her horse. But he is
yours. By right of war you may claim him; but look!’--his bow was
drawn, and the arrow ready!--‘you never shall cross his back!’ The arrow
pierced the heart of the horse, and he fell dead.
“An old woman said she would be my mother. She led me to her lodge; my
heart was thawed by her kindness, and my eyes burst forth with tears;
like the frozen fountains in springtime. She never changed; but as the
days passed away, was still a mother to me. The people were loud in
praise of the young brave, and the chief was ashamed. I lived in peace.
“A party of trappers came to the village, and one of them took me for
his wife. This is he. I am very happy; he treats me with kindness, and
I have taught him the language of my people. As we were travelling this
way, some of the Blackfeet warriors beset us, and carried off the horses
of the party. We followed, and my husband held a parley with them. The
guns were laid down, and the pipe was lighted; but some of the white
men attempted to seize the horses by force, and then a battle began.
The snow was deep, the white men sank into it at every step; but the
red men, with their snow-shoes, passed over the surface like birds, and
drove off many of the horses in sight of their owners. With those that
remained we resumed our journey. At length words took place between the
leader of the party and my husband. He took away our horses, which had
escaped in the battle, and turned us from his camp. My husband had one
good friend among the trappers. That is he (pointing to the man who had
asked assistance for them). He is a good man. His heart is big. When he
came in from hunting, and found that we had been driven away, he gave up
all his wages, and followed us, that he might speak good words for us to
the white captain.”
49.
Rendezvous at Wind River--Campaign of Montero and his
brigade in the Crow country--Wars between the Crows and
Blackfeet--Death--of Arapooish--Blackfeet lurkers--Sagacity
of the horse--Dependence of the hunter on his horse--Return
to the settlements.
ON the 22d of June Captain Bonneville raised his camp, and moved to the
forks of Wind River; the appointed place of rendezvous. In a few days he
was joined there by the brigade of Montero, which had been sent, in the
preceding year, to beat up the Crow country, and afterward proceed to
the Arkansas. Montero had followed the early part of his instructions;
after trapping upon some of the upper streams, he proceeded to Powder
River. Here he fell in with the Crow villages or bands, who treated
him with unusual kindness, and prevailed upon him to take up his winter
quarters among them.
The Crows at that time were struggling almost for existence with their
old enemies, the Blackfeet; who, in the past year, had picked off the
flower of their warriors in various engagements, and among the rest,
Arapooish, the friend of the white men. That sagacious and magnanimous
chief had beheld, with grief, the ravages which war was making in
his tribe, and that it was declining in force, and must eventually
be destroyed unless some signal blow could be struck to retrieve its
fortunes. In a pitched battle of the two tribes, he made a speech to his
warriors, urging them to set everything at hazard in one furious charge;
which done, he led the way into the thickest of the foe. He was
soon separated from his men, and fell covered with wounds, but his
self-devotion was not in vain. The Blackfeet were defeated; and
from that time the Crows plucked up fresh heart, and were frequently
successful.
Montero had not been long encamped among them, when he discovered that
the Blackfeet were hovering about the neighborhood. One day the hunters
came galloping into the camp, and proclaimed that a band of the enemy
was at hand. The Crows flew to arms, leaped on their horses, and dashed
out in squadrons in pursuit. They overtook the retreating enemy in the
midst of a plain. A desperate fight ensued. The Crows had the advantage
of numbers, and of fighting on horseback. The greater part of the
Blackfeet were slain; the remnant took shelter in a close thicket of
willows, where the horse could not enter; whence they plied their bows
vigorously.
The Crows drew off out of bow-shot, and endeavored, by taunts and
bravadoes, to draw the warriors Out of their retreat. A few of the best
mounted among them rode apart from the rest. One of their number then
advanced alone, with that martial air and equestrian grace for which
the tribe is noted. When within an arrow’s flight of the thicket, he
loosened his rein, urged his horse to full speed, threw his body on the
opposite side, so as to hang by one leg, and present no mark to the foe;
in this way he swept along in front of the thicket, launching his arrows
from under the neck of his steed. Then regaining his seat in the saddle,
he wheeled round and returned whooping and scoffing to his companions,
who received him with yells of applause.
Another and another horseman repeated this exploit; but the Blackfeet
were not to be taunted out of their safe shelter. The victors feared
to drive desperate men to extremities, so they forbore to attempt
the thicket. Toward night they gave over the attack, and returned
all-glorious with the scalps of the slain. Then came on the usual feasts
and triumphs, the scalp-dance of warriors round the ghastly trophies,
and all the other fierce revelry of barbarous warfare. When the braves
had finished with the scalps, they were, as usual, given up to the women
and children, and made the objects of new parades and dances. They were
then treasured up as invaluable trophies and decorations by the braves
who had won them.
It is worthy of note, that the scalp of a white man, either through
policy or fear, is treated with more charity than that of an Indian. The
warrior who won it is entitled to his triumph if he demands it. In such
case, the war party alone dance round the scalp. It is then taken down,
and the shagged frontlet of a buffalo substituted in its place, and
abandoned to the triumph and insults of the million.
To avoid being involved in these guerillas, as well as to escape
from the extremely social intercourse of the Crows, which began to be
oppressive, Montero moved to the distance of several miles from their
camps, and there formed a winter cantonment of huts. He now maintained a
vigilant watch at night. Their horses, which were turned loose to graze
during the day, under heedful eyes, were brought in at night, and shut
up in strong pens, built of large logs of cotton-wood. The snows, during
a portion of the winter, were so deep that the poor animals could find
but little sustenance. Here and there a tuft of grass would peer above
the snow; but they were in general driven to browse the twigs and tender
branches of the trees. When they were turned out in the morning, the
first moments of freedom from the confinement of the pen were spent in
frisking and gambolling. This done, they went soberly and sadly to work,
to glean their scanty subsistence for the day. In the meantime the men
stripped the bark of the cotton-wood tree for the evening fodder. As the
poor horses would return toward night, with sluggish and dispirited air,
the moment they saw their owners approaching them with blankets filled
with cotton-wood bark, their whole demeanor underwent a change. A
universal neighing and capering took place; they would rush forward,
smell to the blankets, paw the earth, snort, whinny and prance round
with head and tail erect, until the blankets were opened, and the
welcome provender spread before them. These evidences of intelligence
and gladness were frequently recounted by the trappers as proving the
sagacity of the animal.
These veteran rovers of the mountains look upon their horses as in some
respects gifted with almost human intellect. An old and experienced
trapper, when mounting guard upon the camp in dark nights and times
of peril, gives heedful attention to all the sounds and signs of the
horses. No enemy enters nor approaches the camp without attracting their
notice, and their movements not only give a vague alarm, but it is said,
will even indicate to the knowing trapper the very quarter whence the
danger threatens.
In the daytime, too, while a hunter is engaged on the prairie, cutting
up the deer or buffalo he has slain, he depends upon his faithful horse
as a sentinel. The sagacious animal sees and smells all round him,
and by his starting and whinnying, gives notice of the approach of
strangers. There seems to be a dumb communion and fellowship, a sort of
fraternal sympathy between the hunter and his horse. They mutually
rely upon each other for company and protection; and nothing is more
difficult, it is said, than to surprise an experienced hunter on the
prairie while his old and favorite steed is at his side.
Montero had not long removed his camp from the vicinity of the Crows,
and fixed himself in his new quarters, when the Blackfeet marauders
discovered his cantonment, and began to haunt the vicinity, He kept up a
vigilant watch, however, and foiled every attempt of the enemy, who,
at length, seemed to have given up in despair, and abandoned the
neighborhood. The trappers relaxed their vigilance, therefore, and one
night, after a day of severe labor, no guards were posted, and the whole
camp was soon asleep. Toward midnight, however, the lightest sleepers
were roused by the trampling of hoofs; and, giving the alarm, the whole
party were immediately on their legs and hastened to the pens. The bars
were down; but no enemy was to be seen or heard, and the horses being
all found hard by, it was supposed the bars had been left down through
negligence. All were once more asleep, when, in about an hour there was
a second alarm, and it was discovered that several horses were missing.
The rest were mounted, and so spirited a pursuit took place, that
eighteen of the number carried off were regained, and but three remained
in possession of the enemy. Traps for wolves, had been set about
the camp the preceding day. In the morning it was discovered that a
Blackfoot was entrapped by one of them, but had succeeded in dragging
it off. His trail was followed for a long distance which he must have
limped alone. At length he appeared to have fallen in with some of his
comrades, who had relieved him from his painful encumbrance.
These were the leading incidents of Montero’s campaign in the Crow
country. The united parties now celebrated the 4th of July, in rough
hunters’ style, with hearty conviviality; after which Captain Bonneville
made his final arrangements. Leaving Montero with a brigade of trappers
to open another campaign, he put himself at the head of the residue
of his men, and set off on his return to civilized life. We shall not
detail his journey along the course of the Nebraska, and so, from point
to point of the wilderness, until he and his band reached the frontier
settlements on the 22d of August.
Here, according to his own account, his cavalcade might have been taken
for a procession of tatterdemalion savages; for the men were ragged
almost to nakedness, and had contracted a wildness of aspect during
three years of wandering in the wilderness. A few hours in a populous
town, however, produced a magical metamorphosis. Hats of the most ample
brim and longest nap; coats with buttons that shone like mirrors, and
pantaloons of the most ample plenitude, took place of the well-worn
trapper’s equipments; and the happy wearers might be seen strolling
about in all directions, scattering their silver like sailors just from
a cruise.
The worthy captain, however, seems by no means to have shared the
excitement of his men, on finding himself once more in the thronged
resorts of civilized life, but, on the contrary, to have looked back
to the wilderness with regret. “Though the prospect,” says he, “of once
more tasting the blessings of peaceful society, and passing days and
nights under the calm guardianship of the laws, was not without its
attractions; yet to those of us whose whole lives had been spent in
the stirring excitement and perpetual watchfulness of adventures in
the wilderness, the change was far from promising an increase of that
contentment and inward satisfaction most conducive to happiness. He who,
like myself, has roved almost from boyhood among the children of the
forest, and over the unfurrowed plains and rugged heights of the western
wastes, will not be startled to learn, that notwithstanding all the
fascinations of the world on this civilized side of the mountains, I
would fain make my bow to the splendors and gayeties of the metropolis,
and plunge again amidst the hardships and perils of the wilderness.”
We have only to add that the affairs of the captain have been
satisfactorily arranged with the War Department, and that he is actually
in service at Fort Gibson, on our western frontier, where we hope he may
meet with further opportunities of indulging his peculiar tastes, and of
collecting graphic and characteristic details of the great western wilds
and their motley inhabitants.
We here close our picturings of the Rocky Mountains and their wild
inhabitants, and of the wild life that prevails there; which we have
been anxious to fix on record, because we are aware that this singular
state of things is full of mutation, and must soon undergo great
changes, if not entirely pass away. The fur trade itself, which has
given life to all this portraiture, is essentially evanescent.
Rival parties of trappers soon exhaust the streams, especially when
competition renders them heedless and wasteful of the beaver. The
furbearing animals extinct, a complete change will come over the scene;
the gay free trapper and his steed, decked out in wild array, and
tinkling with bells and trinketry; the savage war chief, plumed and
painted and ever on the prowl; the traders’ cavalcade, winding through
defiles or over naked plains, with the stealthy war party lurking on its
trail; the buffalo chase, the hunting camp, the mad carouse in the
midst of danger, the night attack, the stampede, the scamper, the fierce
skirmish among rocks and cliffs--all this romance of savage life, which
yet exists among the mountains, will then exist but in frontier story,
and seem like the fictions of chivalry or fairy tale.
Some new system of things, or rather some new modification, will succeed
among the roving people of this vast wilderness; but just as opposite,
perhaps, to the inhabitants of civilization. The great Chippewyan chain
of mountains, and the sandy and volcanic plains which extend on either
side, are represented as incapable of cultivation. The pasturage which
prevails there during a certain portion of the year, soon withers under
the aridity of the atmosphere, and leaves nothing but dreary wastes.
An immense belt of rocky mountains and volcanic plains, several
hundred miles in width, must ever remain an irreclaimable wilderness,
intervening between the abodes of civilization, and affording a last
refuge to the Indian. Here roving tribes of hunters, living in tents
or lodges, and following the migrations of the game, may lead a life of
savage independence, where there is nothing to tempt the cupidity of the
white man. The amalgamation of various tribes, and of white men of every
nation, will in time produce hybrid races like the mountain Tartars of
the Caucasus. Possessed as they are of immense droves of horses should
they continue their present predatory and warlike habits, they may in
time become a scourge to the civilized frontiers on either side of the
mountains, as they are at present a terror to the traveller and trader.
The facts disclosed in the present work clearly manifest the policy of
establishing military posts and a mounted force to protect our traders
in their journeys across the great western wilds, and of pushing the
outposts into the very heart of the singular wilderness we have laid
open, so as to maintain some degree of sway over the country, and to put
an end to the kind of “blackmail,” levied on all occasions by the savage
“chivalry of the mountains.”
Appendix
Nathaniel J. Wyeth, and the Trade of the Far West