Wilderness of the Far West.--Great American Desert--Parched
Seasons.--Black Hills.--Rocky Mountains.--Wandering and
Predatory Hordes.--Speculations on What May Be the Future
Population.--Apprehended Dangers.-A Plot to Desert.--Rose the
Interpreter.--His Sinister Character--Departure From the
Arickara Village.
WHILE Mr. Hunt was diligently preparing for his arduous journey, some
of his men began to lose heart at the perilous prospect before them; but
before we accuse them of want of spirit, it is proper to consider the
nature of the wilderness into which they were about to adventure. It was
a region almost as vast and trackless as the ocean, and, at the time of
which we treat, but little known, excepting through the vague accounts
of Indian hunters. A part of their route would lay across an immense
tract, stretching north and south for hundreds of miles along the foot
of the Rocky Mountains, and drained by the tributary streams of the
Missouri and the Mississippi. This region, which resembles one of the
immeasurable steppes of Asia, has not inaptly been termed “the great
American desert.” It spreads forth into undulating and treeless plains,
and desolate sandy wastes wearisome to the eye from their extent and
monotony, and which are supposed by geologists to have formed the
ancient floor of the ocean, countless ages since, when its primeval
waves beat against the granite bases of the Rocky Mountains.
It is a land where no man permanently abides; for, in certain seasons
of the year there is no food either for the hunter or his steed. The
herbage is parched and withered; the brooks and streams are dried
up; the buffalo, the elk and the deer have wandered to distant parts,
keeping within the verge of expiring verdure, and leaving behind them
a vast uninhabited solitude, seamed by ravines, the beds of former
torrents, but now serving only to tantalize and increase the thirst of
the traveller.
Occasionally the monotony of this vast wilderness is interrupted by
mountainous belts of sand and limestone, broken into confused masses;
with precipitous cliffs and yawning ravines, looking like the ruins of
a world; or is traversed by lofty and barren ridges of rock, almost
impassable, like those denominated the Black Hills. Beyond these rise
the stern barriers of the Rocky Mountains, the limits, as it were, of
the Atlantic world. The rugged defiles and deep valleys of this vast
chain form sheltering places for restless and ferocious bands of
savages, many of them the remnants of tribes, once inhabitants of the
prairies, but broken up by war and violence, and who carry into their
mountain haunts the fierce passions and reckless habits of desperadoes.
Such is the nature of this immense wilderness of the far West; which
apparently defies cultivation, and the habitation of civilized life.
Some portions of it along the rivers may partially be subdued by
agriculture, others may form vast pastoral tracts, like those of the
East; but it is to be feared that a great part of it will form a lawless
interval between the abodes of civilized man, like the wastes of the
ocean or the deserts of Arabia; and, like them, be subject to the
depredations of the marauder. Here may spring up new and mongrel races,
like new formations in geology, the amalgamation of the “debris” and
“abrasions” of former races, civilized and savage; the remains of broken
and almost extinguished tribes; the descendants of wandering hunters
and trappers; of fugitives from the Spanish and American frontiers; of
adventurers and desperadoes of every class and country, yearly ejected
from the bosom of society into the wilderness. We are contributing
incessantly to swell this singular and heterogeneous cloud of wild
population that is to hang about our frontier, by the transfer of whole
tribes from the east of the Mississippi to the great wastes of the
far West. Many of these bear with them the smart of real or fancied
injuries; many consider themselves expatriated beings, wrongfully exiled
from their hereditary homes, and the sepulchres of their fathers,
and cherish a deep and abiding animosity against the race that has
dispossessed them. Some may gradually become pastoral hordes, like those
rude and migratory people, half shepherd, half warrior, who, with their
flocks and herds, roam the plains of upper Asia; but others, it is to be
apprehended, will become predatory bands, mounted on the fleet steeds of
the prairies, with the open plains for their marauding grounds, and the
mountains for their retreats and lurking-places. Here they may resemble
those great hordes of the North, “Gog and Magog with their bands,” that
haunted the gloomy imaginations of the prophets. “A great company and
a mighty host, all riding upon horses, and warring upon those nations
which were at rest, and dwelt peaceably, and had gotten cattle and
goods.”
The Spaniards changed the whole character and habits of the Indians when
they brought the horse among them. In Chili, Tucuman, and other parts,
it has converted them, we are told, into Tartar-like tribes, and enabled
them to keep the Spaniards out of their country, and even to make it
dangerous for them to venture far from their towns and settlements. Are
we not in danger of producing some such state of things in the
boundless regions of the far West? That these are not mere fanciful and
extravagant suggestions we have sufficient proofs in the dangers already
experienced by the traders to the Spanish mart of Santa Fe, and to the
distant posts of the fur companies. These are obliged to proceed in
armed caravans, and are subject to murderous attacks from bands of
Pawnees, Camanches, and Blackfeet, that come scouring upon them in their
weary march across the plains, or lie in wait for them among the passes
of the mountains.
We are wandering, however, into excursive speculations, when our
intention was merely to give an idea of the nature of the wilderness
which Mr. Hunt was about to traverse; and which at that time was far
less known than at present; though it still remains in a great measure
an unknown land. We cannot be surprised, therefore, that some of the
resolute of his party should feel dismay at the thoughts of adventuring
into this perilous wilderness under the uncertain guidance of three
hunters, who had merely passed once through the country and might have
forgotten the landmarks. Their apprehensions were aggravated by some
of Lisa’s followers, who, not being engaged in the expedition, took a
mischievous pleasure in exaggerating its dangers. They painted in strong
colors, to the poor Canadian voyageurs, the risk they would run of
perishing with hunger and thirst; of being cut off by war-parties of
the Sioux who scoured the plains; of having their horses stolen by the
Upsarokas or Crows, who infested the skirts of the Rocky Mountains; or
of being butchered by the Blackfeet, who lurked among the defiles. In
a word, there was little chance of their getting alive across the
mountains; and even if they did, those three guides knew nothing of the
howling wilderness that lay beyond.
The apprehensions thus awakened in the minds of some of the men came
well-nigh proving detrimental to the expedition. Some of them determined
to desert, and to make their way back to St. Louis. They accordingly
purloined several weapons and a barrel of gunpowder, as ammunition for
their enterprise, and buried them in the river bank, intending to seize
one of the boats, and make off in the night. Fortunately their plot was
overheard by John Day, the Kentuckian, and communicated to the partners,
who took quiet and effectual means to frustrate it.
The dangers to be apprehended from the Crow Indians had not been
overrated by the camp gossips. These savages, through whose mountain
haunts the party would have to pass, were noted for daring and excursive
habits, and great dexterity in horse stealing. Mr. Hunt, therefore,
considered himself fortunate in having met with a man who might be of
great use to him in any intercourse he might have with the tribe. This
was a wandering individual named Edward Rose, whom he had picked up
somewhere on the Missouri--one of those anomalous beings found on the
frontier, who seem to have neither kin nor country. He had lived some
time among the Crows, so as to become acquainted with their language
and customs; and was, withal, a dogged, sullen, silent fellow, with a
sinister aspect, and more of the savage than the civilized man in his
appearance. He was engaged to serve in general as a hunter, but as guide
and interpreter when they should reach the country of the Crows.
On the 18th of July, Mr. Hunt took up his line of march by land from
the Arickara village, leaving Mr. Lisa and Mr. Nuttall there, where
they intended to await the expected arrival of Mr. Henry from the Rocky
Mountains. As to Messrs. Bradbury and Breckenridge, they had departed
some days previously, on a voyage down the river to St. Louis, with a
detachment from Mr. Lisa’s party. With all his exertions, Mr. Hunt
had been unable to obtain a sufficient number of horses for the
accommodation of all his people. His cavalcade consisted of eighty-two
horses, most of them heavily laden with Indian goods, beaver traps,
ammunition, Indian corn, corn meal and other necessaries. Each of the
partners was mounted, and a horse was allotted to the interpreter,
Pierre Dorion, for the transportation of his luggage and his two
children. His squaw, for the most part of the time, trudged on foot,
like the residue of the party; nor did any of the men show more patience
and fortitude than this resolute woman in enduring fatigue and hardship.
The veteran trappers and voyageurs of Lisa’s party shook their heads
as their comrades set out, and took leave of them as of doomed men;
and even Lisa himself gave it as his opinion, after the travellers had
departed, they would never reach the shores of the Pacific, but would
either perish with hunger in the wilderness, or be cut off by the
savages.