Time passed away till I and my companions were heartily tired of our
inactivity: besides, I was home-sick, and I had left articles of great
value at the settlement, about which I was rather fidgety. So one day we
determined that we would start alone, and return to the settlement by a
different road. We left Santa Fé and rode towards the north, and it was
not until we had passed Taos, the last Mexican settlement, that we
became ourselves again and recovered our good spirits. Gabriel knew the
road; our number was too small not to find plenty to eat, and as to the
hostile Indians, it was a chance we were willing enough to encounter. A
few days after we had quitted Santa Fé, and when In the neighbourhood
of the Spanish Peaks and about thirty degrees north latitude, we fell in
with a numerous party of the Comanches.
It was the first time we had seen them in a body, and it was a grand
sight. Gallant horsemen they were and well mounted. They were out upon
an expedition against the Pawnee[15] Loups, and they behaved to us with
the greatest kindness and hospitality. The chief knew Gabriel, and
invited us to go in company with them to their place of encampment. The
chief was a tall, fine fellow, and with beautiful symmetry of figure. He
spoke Spanish well, and the conversation was carried on in that tongue
until the evening, when I addressed him in Shoshone, which beautiful
dialect is common to the Comanches, Apaches, and Arrapahoes, and related
to him the circumstances of our captivity on the shores of the Colorado
of the West. As I told my story the chief was mute with astonishment,
until at last, throwing aside the usual Indian decorum, he grasped me
firmly by the hand. He knew I was neither a Yankee nor a Mexican, and
swore that for my sake every Canadian or Frenchman falling in their
power should be treated as a friend. After our meal we sat comfortably
round the fires, and listened to several speeches and traditions of
the warriors.
[Footnote 15: The word Pawnee signifies "_exiled_;" therefore it does
not follow that the three tribes bearing the same name belong to the
same nation.
The Grand Pawnees, the tribe among whom Mr. Murray resided, are of
Dahcotah origin, and live along the shores of the river Platte; the
Pawnee Loups are of the Algonquin race, speaking quite another language,
and occupying the country situated between the northern forks of the
same river. Both tribes are known among the trappers to be the "Crows of
the East;" that is to say, thieves and treacherous. They cut their hair
short except on the scalp, as is usual among the nations which they have
sprung from.
The third tribe of that name is called Pawnee Pict; these are of
Comanche origin and Shoshone race, wearing their hair long, and speaking
the same language as all the western great prairie tribes. They live
upon the Red River, which forms the boundary betwixt North Texas and the
Western American boundary, and have been visited by Mr. Catlin, who
mentions them in his work. The Picts are constantly at war with the two
other tribes of Pawnees; and though their villages are nearly one
thousand miles distant from those of their enemy, their war-parties
are continually scouring the country of the "Exiles of the
East"--"_Pa-wah-nêjs_."]
One point struck me forcibly during my conversation with that noble
warrior. According to his version, the Comanches were in the beginning
very partial to the Texans, as they were brave, and some of them
generous. But he said that afterwards, as they increased their numbers
and established their power, they became a rascally people, cowards and
murderers. One circumstance above all fire the blood of the Comanches,
and since that time it has been and will be with them a war of
extinction against the Texans.
An old Comanche, with a daughter, had separated himself from their
tribe. He was a chief, but he had been unfortunate, and being sick, he
retired to San Antonio to try the skill of the great pale-face médecin.
His daughter was a noble and handsome girl of eighteen, and she had not
been long in the place before she attracted the attention of a certain
doctor, a young man from Kentucky, who had been tried for murder in the
States. He was the greatest scoundrel in the world, but being a
desperate character, he was feared, and, of course, courted by his
fellow Texans.
Perceiving that he could not succeed in his views so long as the girl
was with her father, he contrived to throw the old man into gaol, and
inducing her to come to his house to see what could be done to release
him, he abused her most shamefully, using blows and violence to
accomplish his purpose, to such a degree, that he left her for dead.
Towards the evening, she regained some strength, and found a shelter in
the dwelling of some humane Mexican.
The old Indian was soon liberated: he found his daughter, but it was on
her death-bed, and then he learned the circumstances of the shameful
transaction, and deeply vowed revenge. A Mexican gentleman, indignant at
such a cowardly deed, in the name of outraged nature and humanity, laid
the cause before a jury of Texans. The doctor was acquitted by the Texan
jury, upon the ground that the laws were not made for the benefit of the
Comanches.
The consequences may be told in a few words. One day Dr. Cobbet was
found in an adjoining field stabbed to the heart and scalped. The Indian
had run away, and meeting with a party of Comanches, he related his
wrongs and his revenge. They received him again into the tribe, but the
injury was a national one, not sufficiently punished: that week
twenty-three Texans lost their scalps, and fourteen women were carried
into the wilderness, there to die in captivity.
The Comanche chief advised us to keep close to the shores of the Rio
Grande, that we might not meet with the parties of the Pawnee Loups; and
so much was he pleased with us, that he resolved to turn out of his way
and accompany us with his men some thirty miles farther, when we should
be comparatively out of danger. The next morning we started, the chief
and I riding close together and speaking of the Shoshones. We exchanged
our knives as a token of friendship, and when we parted, he assembled
all his men and made the following speech:--
"The young chief of the Shoshones Is returning to his brave people
across the rugged mountains. Learn his name, so that you may tell your
children that they have a friend in Owato Wanisha. He Is neither a
Shakanath (an Englishman) nor a Kishemoc Comoanak (a long knife, a
Yankee). He Is a chief among the tribe of our great-grandfathers, he is
a chief, though he is very, very young."
At this moment all the warriors came, one after the other, to shake
hands with me, and when this ceremony was terminated, the chief resumed
his discourse.
"Owato Wanisha, we met as strangers, we part as friends. Tell your young
warriors you have been among the Comanches, and that we would like to
know them. Tell them to come, a few or many, to our _waikiams_ (lodges);
they will find the moshkotaj (buffalo) in plenty.
"Farewell, young chief, with a pale face and an Indian heart; the earth
be light to thee and thine. May the white Manitou clear for thee the
mountain path, and may you never fail to remember _Opishka Toaki_ (the
White Raven), who is thy Comanche friend, and who would fain share with
thee his home, his wealth, and his wide prairies. I have said: young
brother, farewell."
The tears stood in our eyes as gallantly the band wheeled round. We
watched them till they had all disappeared in the horizon. And these
noble fellows were Indians; had they been Texans, they would have
murdered us to obtain our horses and rifles.
Two days after, we crossed the Rio Grande, and entered the dreary path
of the mountains In the hostile and Inhospitable country of the Navahoes
and the Crows[16].
[Footnote 16: The Crows are gallant horsemen; but although they have
assumed the manners and customs of the Shoshones, they are of the
Dahcotah breed. There is a great difference between the Shoshone tribes
and the Crows. The latter want that spirit of chivalry so remarkable
among the Comanches, the Arrapahoes, and the Shoshones--that nobility of
feeling which scorns to take an enemy at a disadvantage, I should say
that the Shoshone tribes are the lions and the Crows the tigers of these
deserts.]
We had been travelling eight days on a most awful stony
road, when at last we reached the head waters of the Colorado of the
West, but we were very weak, not having touched any food during the last
five days, except two small rattlesnakes, and a few berries we had
picked up on the way. On the morning we had chased a large grizzly bear,
but to no purpose; our poor horses and ourselves were too exhausted to
follow the animal for any time, and with its disappearance vanished away
all hopes of a dinner.
It was evening before we reached the river, and, by that time, we were
so much maddened with hunger, that we seriously thought of killing one
of our horses. Luckily, at that instant, we espied smoke rising from a
camp of Indians in a small valley. That they were foes we had no doubt;
but hunger can make heroes, and we determined to take a meal at their
expense. The fellows had been lucky, for around their tents they had
hung upon poles large pieces of meat to dry. They had no horses, and
only a few dogs scattered about the camp. We skirted the plain in
silence, and at dark we had arrived at three hundred yards from them,
concealed by the projecting rocks which formed a kind of belt around
the camp.
Now was our time. Giving the Shoshone war-whoop, and making as much
noise as we could, we spurred on our horses, and in a few moments each
of us had secured a piece of meat from the poles. The Crows (for the
camp contained fifteen Crows and three Arrapahoes), on hearing the
war-whoop, were so terrified that they had all run away without ever
looking behind them; but the Arrapahoes stood their ground, and having
recovered from their first surprise, they assaulted us bravely with
their lances and arrows.
Roche was severely bruised by his horse falling, and my pistol, by
disabling his opponent, who was advancing with his tomahawk, saved his
life. Gabriel had coolly thrown his lasso round his opponent, and had
already strangled him, while the third had been in the very beginning of
the attack run over by my horse. Gabriel lighted on the ground, entered
the lodges, cut the strings of all the bows he could find, and,
collecting a few more pieces of the meat, we started at a full gallop,
not being inclined to wait till the Crows should have recovered from
their panic. Though our horses were very tired, we rode thirteen miles
more that night, and, about ten o'clock, arrived at a beautiful spot
with plenty of fine grass and cool water, upon which both we and our
horses stretched ourselves most luxuriously even before eating.
Capital jokes were passed round that night while we were discussing the
qualities of the mountain-goat flesh, but yet I felt annoyed at our
feat; the thing, to be sure, had been gallantly done, still it was
nothing better than highway robbery. Hunger, however, is a good
palliative for conscience, and, having well rubbed our horses, who
seemed to enjoy their grazing amazingly, we turned to repose, watching
alternately for every three hours.
The next day at noon we met with unexpected sport and company. As we
were going along, we perceived two men at a distance, sitting close
together upon the ground, and apparently in a vehement conversation. As
they were white men, we dismounted and secured our horses, and then
crept silently along until we were near the strangers. They were two
very queer-looking beings; one long and lean, the other short and stout.
"Bless me," the fat one said, "bless me, Pat Swiney, but I think the
Frenchers will never return, and so we must die here like starved dogs."
"Och," answered the thin one, "they have gone to kill game. By St.
Patrick, I wish it would come, raw or cooked, for my bowels are twisting
like worms on a hook."
"Oh, Pat, be a good man; can't you go and pick some berries? my stomach
is like an empty bag."
"Faith, my legs ain't better than yours," answered the Irishman, patting
his knee with a kind of angry gesture. And for the first time we
perceived that the legs of both of them were shockingly swollen.
"If we could only meet with the Welsh Indians or a gold mine," resumed
the short man.
"Botheration," exclaimed his irascible companion. "Bother them all--the
Welsh Indians and the Welsh English."
[Illustration: "Faith, my legs ain't better than yours."]
We saw that hunger had made the poor fellows rather quarrelsome, so we
kindly interfered with a tremendous war-whoop. The fat one closed his
eyes, and allowed himself to fall down, while his fellow in misfortune
rose up in spite of the state of his legs.
"Come," roared he, "come, ye rascally red devils, do your worst without
marcy, for I am lame and hungry."
There was something noble in his words and pathetic in the action.
Roche, putting his hand on his shoulder, whispered some Irish words in
his ear, and the poor fellow almost cut a caper. "Faith," he said, "if
you are not a Cork boy you are the devil; but devil or no, for the sake
of the old country, give us something to eat--to me and that poor Welsh
dreamer. I fear your hellish yell has taken the life out of him."
Such was not the case. At the words "something to eat," the fellow
opened his eyes with a stare, and exclaimed--
"The Welsh Indians, by St. David!"
We answered him with a roar of merriment that rather confused him, and
his companion answered--
"Ay! Welsh Indians or Irish Indians, for what I know. Get up, will ye,
ye lump of flesh, and politely tell the gentlemen that we have tasted
nothing for the last three days."
Of course, we lost no time in lighting a fire and bringing our horses.
The meat was soon cooked, and it was wonderful to see how quickly it
disappeared in the jaws of our two new friends. We had yet about twelve
pounds of it, and we were entering a country where game would be found
daily, so we did not repine at their most inordinate appetites, but, on
the contrary, encouraged them to continue. When the first pangs of
hunger were a little soothed, they both looked at us with moist and
grateful eyes.
"Och," said the Irishman, "but ye are kind gentlemen, whatever you may
be, to give us so good a meal when, perhaps, you have no more."
Roche shook him by the hand. "Eat on, fellow," he said, "eat on, and
never fear. We will afterwards see what can be done for the legs." As to
the Welshman, he never said a word for a full half-hour. He would look,
but could neither speak nor hear, so intensely busy was he with an
enormous piece of half-raw flesh, which he was tearing and swallowing
like a hungry wolf. There is, however, an end to everything, and when
satiety had succeeded to want, they related to us the circumstance that
had led them where they were.
They had come as journeymen with a small caravan going from St. Louis to
Astoria. On the Green River they had been attacked by a war-party of the
Black-feet, who had killed all except them, thanks to the Irishman's
presence of mind, who pushed his fat companion into a deep fissure of
the earth, and jumped after him. Thus they saved their bacon, and had
soon the consolation of hearing the savages carrying away the goods,
leading the mules towards the north. For three days they had wandered
south, in the hope of meeting with some trappers, and this very morning
they had fallen in with two French trappers, who told them to remain
there and repose till their return, as they were going after game.
While they were narrating their history, the two trappers arrived with a
fat buck. They were old friends, having both of them travelled and
hunted with Gabriel. We resolved not to proceed any further that day,
and they laughed a great deal when we related to them our prowess
against the Crows. An application of bruised leaves of the Gibson weed
upon the legs of the two sufferers immediately soothed their pain, and
the next morning they were able to use Roche's and Gabriel's horses, and
to follow us to Brownhall, an American fur-trading port, which place we
reached in two days.
There we parted from our company, and rapidly continued our march
towards the settlement. Ten days did we travel thus in the heart of a
fine country, where game at every moment crossed our path. We arrived in
the deserted country of the Bonnaxes, and were scarcely two days'
journey from the Eastern Shoshone boundary, when, as ill-luck would have
it, we met once more with our old enemies the Arrapahoes. This time,
however, we were determined not to be put any more on dog's meat
allowance, and to fight, if necessary, in defence of our liberty.
We were surrounded, but not yet taken; and space being ours and our
rifles true, we hoped to escape, not one of our enemies having, as we
well knew, any firearms. They reduced their circle smaller and smaller,
till they stood at about a hundred and fifty yards from us; their horses
fat and plump, but of the small wild breed, and incapable of running a
race with our tall and beautiful Mexican chargers. At that moment
Gabriel raised his hand, as if for a signal; we all three darted like
lightning through the line of warriors, who were too much taken by
surprise even to use their bows. They soon recovered from their
astonishment, and giving the war-whoop, with many ferocious yells of
disappointment, dashed after us at their utmost speed.
Their horses, as I have said, could not run a race with ours, but in a
long chase their hardy little animals would have had the advantage,
especially as our own steeds had already performed so long a journey.
During the two first hours we kept them out of sight, but towards dark,
as our beasts gave in, we saw their forms in the horizon becoming more
and more distinct, while, to render our escape less probable, we found
ourselves opposed in front by a chain of mountains, not high, but very
steep and rugged.
"On, ahead, we are safe!" cried Gabriel. Of course, there was no time
for explanation, and ten minutes more saw us at the foot of the
mountain. "Not a word, but do as I do," again said my companion. We
followed his example by unsaddling our animals and taking off the
bridles, with which we whipped them. The poor things, though tired,
galloped to the south, as if they were aware of the impending danger.
"I understand, Gabriel," said I; "the savages cannot see us in the
shades of these hills; they will follow our horses by the sounds."
Gabriel chuckled with delight. "Right," said he, "right enough, but it
is not all. I know of a boat on the other side of the mountain, and the
Ogden river will carry us not far from the Buona Ventura."
I started. "A mistake," I exclaimed, "dear friend, a sad mistake; we are
more than thirty miles from the river."
"From the main river, yes," answered he, shaking my hand, "but many an
otter have I killed in a pretty lake two miles from here, at the
southern side of this hill. There I have a boat well concealed, as I
hope; and it is a place where we may defy all the Arrapahoes, and the
Crows to back them. From that lake to the river it is but thirty miles'
paddling in a smooth canal, made either by nature or by a former race
of men."
I need not say how cheerfully we walked these two miles, in spite of the
weight of our saddles, rifles, and accoutrements. Our ascent was soon
over, and striking into a small tortuous deer-path, we perceived below
us the transparent sheet of water, in which a few stars already
reflected their pale and tremulous light. When we reached the shore of
the lake, we found ourselves surrounded by vast and noble ruins, like
those on the Buona Ventura, but certainly much more romantic. Gabriel
welcomed us to his trapping-ground, as a lord in his domain, and soon
brought out a neat little canoe from under a kind of ancient vault.
"This canoe," said he, "once belonged to one of the poor fellows that
was murdered with the Prince Seravalle. We brought it here six years ago
with great secrecy; it cost him twenty dollars, a rifle, and six
blankets. Now, in the middle of this lake there is an island, where he
and I lived together, and where we can remain for months without any
fear of Indians or starvation."
We all three entered the canoe, leaving our saddles behind us, to
recover them on the following day. One hour's paddling brought us to the
island, and it was truly a magnificent spot. It was covered with ruins;
graceful obelisks were shaded by the thick foliage of immense trees, and
the soft light of the moon, beaming on the angles of the ruined
monuments, gave to the whole scenery the hue of an Italian landscape.
"Here we are safe," said Gabriel, "and to-morrow you will discover that
my old resting-place is not deficient in comfort."
As we were very tired, we lay down and soon slept, forgetting in this
little paradise the dangers and the fatigues of the day. Our host's
repose, however, was shorter than mine, for long before morn he had gone
to fetch our saddles. Roche and I would probably have slept till his
return, had we not been awakened by the report of a rifle, which came
down to us, repeated by a thousand echoes. An hour of intense anxiety
was passed, till at last we saw Gabriel paddling towards us. The sound
of the rifle had, however, betrayed our place of concealment, and as
Gabriel neared the island, the shore opposite to us began to swarm with
our disappointed enemies, who in all probability had camped in the
neighbourhood. As my friend landed, I was beginning to scold him for his
imprudence in using his rifle under our present circumstances, when a
glance showed me at once he had met with an adventure similar to mine
near Santa Fé. In the canoe lay the skin of a large finely-spotted
jaguar, and by it a young cub, playing unconsciously with the
scalping-knife, yet reeking in its mother's blood.
"Could not help it,--self-defence!" exclaimed he, jumping on shore. "Now
the red devils know where we are, but it is a knowledge that brings them
little good. The lake is ten fathoms in depth, and they will not swim
three miles under the muzzles of our rifles. When they are tired of
seeing us fishing, and hearing us laughing, they will go away like
disappointed foxes."
So it proved. That day we took our rifles and went in the canoe to
within eighty yards of the Indians, on the mainland, we fishing for
trouts, and inviting them to share in our sport. They yelled awfully,
and abused us not a little, calling us by all the names their rage could
find: squaws, dogs of Pale-faces, cowards, thieves, &c. At last,
however, they retired in the direction of the river, hoping yet to have
us in their power; but so little had we to fear, that we determined to
pass a few days on the island, that we might repose from our fatigues.
When we decided upon continuing our route, Gabriel and Roche were
obliged to leave their saddles and bridles behind, as the canoe was too
small for ourselves and luggage. This was a misfortune which could be
easily repaired at the settlement, and till then, saddles, of course,
were useless. We went on merrily from forty-five to fifty miles every
day, on the surface of the most transparent and coolest water in the
world. During the night we would land and sleep on the shore. Game was
very plentiful, for at almost every minute we would pass a stag or a
bull drinking; sometimes at only twenty yards, distance.
During this trip on the Ogden river, we passed four other magnificent
lakes, but not one of them bearing any marks of former civilization, as
on the shores of the first one which had sheltered us. We left the river
two hundred and forty miles from where we had commenced our navigation,
and, carrying our canoe over a portage of three miles, we launched it
again upon one of the tributaries of the Buona Ventura, two hundred
miles north-east from the settlement.
The current was now in our favour, and in four days more we landed among
my good friends, the Shoshones, who, after our absence of nine months,
received us with almost a childish joy. They had given us up for dead,
and suspecting the Crows of having had a hand in our disappearance,
they had made an invasion into their territory.
Six days after our arrival our three horses were perceived swimming
across the river; the faithful animals had also escaped from our
enemies, and found their way back to their masters and their
native prairies.