Departure From Snake River--Mountains to the North.--Wayworn
Travellers--An Increase of the Dorion Family.--A Camp of
Shoshonies.--A New-Year Festival Among the Snakes.--A Wintry
March Through the Mountains.--A Sunny Prospect, and Milder
Climate.--Indian Horse-Tracks.--Grassy Valleys.--A Camp of
Sciatogas.--Joy of the Travellers.-Dangers of Abundance.--
Habits of the Sciatogas.--Fate of Carriere.--The Umatilla.--
Arrival at the Banks of the Columbia.--Tidings of the
Scattered Members of the Expedition.--Scenery on the
Columbia.--Tidings of Astoria-Arrival at the Falls.
ON the 24th of December, all things being arranged, Mr. Hunt turned his
back upon the disastrous banks of Snake River, and struck his course
westward for the mountains. His party, being augmented by the late
followers of Mr. Crooks, amounted now to thirty-two white men, three
Indians, and the squaw and two children of Pierre Dorion. Five jaded,
half-starved horses were laden with their luggage, and, in case of need,
were to furnish them with provisions. They travelled painfully about
fourteen miles a day, over plains and among hills, rendered dreary by
occasional falls of snow and rain. Their only sustenance was a scanty
meal of horse flesh once in four-and-twenty hours.
On the third day the poor Canadian, Carriere, one of the famished party
of Mr. Crooks, gave up in despair, and laying down upon the ground
declared he could go no further. Efforts were made to cheer him up, but
it was found that the poor fellow was absolutely exhausted and could
not keep on his legs. He was mounted, therefore, upon one of the horses,
though the forlorn animal was in little better plight than himself.
On the 28th, they came upon a small stream winding to the north, through
a fine level valley; the mountains receding on each side. Here their
Indian friends pointed out a chain of woody mountains to the left,
running north and south, and covered with snow, over which they would
have to pass. They kept along the valley for twenty-one miles on the
29th, suffering much from a continued fall of snow and rain, and being
twice obliged to ford the icy stream. Early in the following morning the
squaw of Pierre Dorion, who had hitherto kept on without murmuring or
flinching, was suddenly taken in labor, and enriched her husband with
another child. As the fortitude and good conduct of the poor woman had
gained for her the goodwill of the party, her situation caused concern
and perplexity. Pierre, however, treated the matter as an occurrence
that could soon be arranged and need cause no delay. He remained by his
wife in the camp, with his other children and his horse, and promised
soon to rejoin the main body, who proceeded on their march.
Finding that the little river entered the mountains, they abandoned it,
and turned off for a few miles among hills. Here another Canadian, named
La Bonte, gave out, and had to be helped on horseback. As the horse was
too weak to bear both him and his pack, Mr. Hunt took the latter upon
his own shoulders. Thus, with difficulties augmenting at every step,
they urged their toilsome way among the hills, half famished and faint
at heart, when they came to where a fair valley spread out before them,
of great extent and several leagues in width, with a beautiful stream
meandering through it. A genial climate seemed to prevail here, for
though the snow lay upon all the mountains within sight, there was none
to be seen in the valley. The travellers gazed with delight upon this
serene, sunny landscape, but their joy was complete on beholding six
lodges of Shoshonies pitched upon the borders of the stream, with a
number of horses and dogs about them. They all pressed forward with
eagerness and soon reached the camp. Here their first attention was to
obtain provisions. A rifle, an old musket, a tomahawk, a tin kettle,
and a small quantity of ammunition soon procured them four horses, three
dogs, and some roots. Part of the live stock was immediately killed,
cooked with all expedition, and as promptly devoured. A hearty meal
restored every one to good spirits. In the course of the following
morning the Dorion family made its reappearance. Pierre came trudging in
the advance, followed by his valued, though skeleton steed, on which was
mounted his squaw with her new-born infant in her arms, and her boy of
two years old wrapped in a blanket and slung at her side. The mother
looked as unconcerned as if nothing had happened to her; so easy
is nature in her operations in the wilderness, when free from the
enfeebling refinements of luxury, and the tamperings and appliances of
art.
The next morning ushered in the new year (1812). Mr. Hunt was about to
resume his march, when his men requested permission to celebrate the
day. This was particularly urged by the Canadian voyageurs, with whom
New-Year’s day is a favorite festival; and who never willingly give up
a holiday, under any circumstances. There was no resisting such an
application; so the day was passed in repose and revelry; the poor
Canadians contrived to sing and dance in defiance of all their
hardships; and there was a sumptuous New-Year’s banquet of dog’s meat
and horse flesh.
After two days of welcome rest, the travellers addressed themselves once
more to the painful journey. The Indians of the lodges pointed out a
distant gap through which they must pass in traversing the ridge of
mountains. They assured them that they would be but little incommoded
by snow, and in three days would arrive among the Sciatogas. Mr. Hunt,
however, had been so frequently deceived by Indian accounts of routes
and distances, that he gave but little faith to this information.
The travellers continued their course due west for five days, crossing
the valley and entering the mountains. Here the travelling became
excessively toilsome, across rough stony ridges, and amidst fallen
trees. They were often knee deep in snow, and sometimes in the hollows
between the ridges sank up to their waists. The weather was extremely
cold; the sky covered with clouds so that for days they had not a
glimpse of the sun. In traversing the highest ridge they had a wide but
chilling prospect over a wilderness of snowy mountains.
On the 6th of January, however, they had crossed the dividing summit of
the chain, and were evidently under the influence of a milder climate.
The snow began to decrease; the sun once more emerged from the thick
canopy of clouds, and shone cheeringly upon them, and they caught a
sight of what appeared to be a plain, stretching out in the west.
They hailed it as the poor Israelites hailed the first glimpse of the
promised land, for they flattered themselves that this might be the
great plain of the Columbia, and that their painful pilgrimage might be
drawing to a close.
It was now five days since they had left the lodges of the Shoshonies,
during which they had come about sixty miles, and their guide assured
them that in the course of the next day they would see the Sciatogas.
On the following morning, therefore, they pushed forward with eagerness,
and soon fell upon a stream which led them through a deep narrow defile,
between stupendous ridges. Here among the rocks and precipices they saw
gangs of that mountain-loving animal, the black-tailed deer, and came to
where great tracks of horses were to be seen in all directions, made by
the Indian hunters.
The snow had entirely disappeared, and the hopes of soon coming upon
some Indian encampment induced Mr. Hunt to press on. Many of the men,
however, were so enfeebled that they could not keep up with the main
body, but lagged at intervals behind; and some of them did not arrive
at the night encampment. In the course of this day’s march the
recently-born child of Pierre Dorion died.
The march was resumed early the next morning, without waiting for the
stragglers. The stream which they had followed throughout the preceding
day was now swollen by the influx of another river; the declivities of
the hills were green and the valleys were clothed with grass. At
length the jovial cry was given of “an Indian camp!” It was yet in the
distance, In the bosom of the green valley, but they could perceive
that it consisted of numerous lodges, and that hundreds of horses were
grazing the grassy meadows around it. The prospect of abundance of
horse flesh diffused universal joy, for by this time the whole stock
of travelling provisions was reduced to the skeleton steed of Pierre
Dorion, and another wretched animal, equally emaciated, that had been
repeatedly reprieved during the journey.
A forced march soon brought the weary and hungry travellers to the camp.
It proved to be a strong party of Sciatogas and Tusche-pas. There were
thirty-four lodges, comfortably constructed of mats; the Indians, too,
were better clothed than any of the wandering bands they had hitherto
met on this side of the Rocky Mountains. Indeed, they were as well clad
as the generality of the wild hunter tribes. Each had a good buffalo or
deer skin robe; and a deer skin hunting shirt and leggins. Upwards of
two thousand horses were ranging the pastures around their encampment;
but what delighted Mr. Hunt was, on entering the lodges, to behold
brass kettles, axes, copper tea-kettles, and various other articles of
civilized manufacture, which showed that these Indians had an indirect
communication with the people of the sea-coast who traded with the
whites. He made eager inquiries of the Sciatogas, and gathered from them
that the great river (the Columbia) was but two days’ march distant, and
that several white people had recently descended it; who he hoped might
prove to be M’Lellan, M’Kenzie, and their companions.
It was with the utmost joy and the most profound gratitude to heaven,
that Mr. Hunt found himself and his band of weary and famishing
wanderers thus safely extricated from the most perilous part of their
long journey, and within the prospect of a termination of their tolls.
All the stragglers who had lagged behind arrived, one after another,
excepting the poor Canadian voyageur, Carriere. He had been seen late in
the preceding afternoon, riding behind a Snake Indian, near some lodges
of that nation, a few miles distant from the last night’s encampment;
and it was expected that he would soon make his appearance. The first
object of Mr. Hunt was to obtain provisions for his men. A little
venison, of an indifferent quality, and some roots were all that could
be procured that evening; but the next day he succeeded in purchasing
a mare and colt, which were immediately killed, and the cravings of the
half-starved people in some degree appeased.
For several days they remained in the neighborhood of these Indians,
reposing after all their hardships, and feasting upon horse flesh and
roots, obtained in subsequent traffic. Many of the people ate to such
excess as to render themselves sick, others were lame from their past
journey; but all gradually recruited in the repose and abundance of the
valley. Horses were obtained here much more readily, and at a cheaper
rate, than among the Snakes. A blanket, a knife, or a half pound of blue
beads would purchase a steed, and at this rate many of the men bought
horses for their individual use.
This tribe of Indians, who are represented as a proud-spirited race, and
uncommonly cleanly, never eat horses or dogs, nor would they permit
the raw flesh of either to be brought into their huts. They had a small
quantity of venison in each lodge, but set so high a price upon it that
the white men, in their impoverished state could not afford to purchase
it. They hunted the deer on horseback, “ringing,” or surrounding them,
and running them down in a circle. They were admirable horsemen, and
their weapons were bows and arrows, which they managed with great
dexterity. They were altogether primitive in their habits, and seemed to
cling to the usages of savage life, even when possessed of the aids of
civilization. They had axes among them, yet they generally made use of a
stone mallet wrought into the shape of a bottle, and wedges of elk
horn, in splitting their wood. Though they might have two or three brass
kettles hanging, in their lodges, yet they would frequently use vessels
made of willow, for carrying water, and would even boll their meat in
them, by means of hot stones. Their women wore caps of willow neatly
worked and figured.
As Carriere, the Canadian straggler, did not make his appearance for two
or three days after the encampment in the valley two men were sent out
on horseback in search of him. They returned, however, without success.
The lodges of the Snake Indians near which he had been seen were
removed, and the could find no trace of him. Several days more elapsed,
yet nothing was seen or heard of him, or the Snake horseman, behind whom
he had been last observed. It was feared, therefore, that he had either
perished through hunger and fatigue; had been murdered by the Indians;
or, being left to himself, had mistaken some hunting tracks for the
trail of the party, and been led astray and lost.
The river on the banks of which they were encamped, emptied into the
Columbia, was called by the natives the Eu-o-tal-la, or Umatilla, and
abounded with beaver. In the course of their sojourn in the valley which
it watered, they twice shifted their camp, proceeding about thirty miles
down its course, which was to the west. A heavy fall of rain caused the
river to overflow its banks, dislodged them from their encampment, and
drowned three of their horses which were tethered in the low ground.
Further conversation with the Indians satisfied them that they were in
the neighborhood of the Columbia. The number of the white men who they
said had passed down the river, agreed with that of M’Lellan, M’Kenzie,
and their companions, and increased the hope of Mr. Hunt that they might
have passed through the wilderness with safety.
These Indians had a vague story that white men were coming to trade
among them; and they often spoke of two great men named Ke-Koosh and
Jacquean, who gave them tobacco, and smoked with them. Jacquean, they
said, had a house somewhere upon the great river. Some of the Canadians
supposed they were speaking of one Jacquean Finlay, a clerk of the
Northwest Company, and inferred that the house must be some trading
post on one of the tributary streams of the Columbia. The Indians were
overjoyed when they found this band of white men intended to return
and trade with them. They promised to use all diligence in collecting
quantities of beaver skins, and no doubt proceeded to make deadly war
upon that sagacious, but ill-fated animal, who, in general, lived in
peaceful insignificance among his Indian neighbors, before the intrusion
of the white trader. On the 20th of January, Mr. Hunt took leave of
these friendly Indians, and of the river on which they encamped, and
continued westward.
At length, on the following day, the wayworn travellers lifted up their
eyes and beheld before them the long-sought waters of the Columbia. The
sight was hailed with as much transport as if they had already reached
the end of their pilgrimage; nor can we wonder at their joy. Two hundred
and forty miles had they marched, through wintry wastes and rugged
mountains, since leaving Snake River; and six months of perilous
wayfaring had they experienced since their departure from the Arickara
village on the Missouri. Their whole route by land and water from that
point had been, according to their computation, seventeen hundred and
fifty-one miles, in the course of which they had endured all kinds of
hardships. In fact, the necessity of avoiding the dangerous country of
the Blackfeet had obliged them to make a bend to the south and traverse
a great additional extent of unknown wilderness.
The place where they struck the Columbia was some distance below the
junction of its two great branches, Lewis and Clarke rivers, and not
far from the influx of the Wallah-Wallah. It was a beautiful stream,
three-quarters of a mile wide, totally free from trees; bordered in some
places with steep rocks, in others with pebbled shores.
On the banks of the Columbia they found a miserable horde of Indians,
called Akai-chies, with no clothing but a scanty mantle of the skins of
animals, and sometimes a pair of sleeves of wolf’s skin. Their lodges
were shaped like a tent, and very light and warm, being covered with
mats and rushes; besides which they had excavations in the ground, lined
with mats, and occupied by the women, who were even more slightly clad
than the men. These people subsisted chiefly by fishing; having canoes
of a rude construction, being merely the trunks of pine trees split and
hollowed out by fire. Their lodges were well stored with dried salmon,
and they had great quantities of fresh salmon trout of an excellent
flavor, taken at the mouth of the Umatilla; of which the travellers
obtained a most acceptable supply.
Finding that the road was on the north side of the river, Mr. Hunt
crossed, and continued five or six days travelling rather slowly down
along its banks, being much delayed by the straying of the horses, and
the attempts made by the Indians to steal them. They frequently passed
lodges, where they obtained fish and dogs. At one place the natives had
just returned from hunting, and had brought back a large quantity of
elk and deer meat, but asked so high a price for it as to be beyond the
funds of the travellers, so they had to content themselves with dog’s
flesh. They had by this time, however, come to consider it very choice
food, superior to horse flesh, and the minutes of the expedition speak
rather exultingly now and then, of their having made a famous “repast,”
where this viand happened to be unusually plenty.
They again learnt tidings of some of the scattered members of the
expedition, supposed to be M’Kenzie, M’Lellan, and their men, who had
preceded them down the river, and had overturned one of their canoes, by
which they lost many articles. All these floating pieces of intelligence
of their fellow adventurers, who had separated from them in the heart of
the wilderness, they received with eager interest.
The weather continued to be temperate, marking the superior softness of
the climate on this side of the mountains. For a great part of the
time, the days were delightfully mild and clear, like the serene days
of October on the Atlantic borders. The country in general, in the
neighborhood of the river, was a continual plain, low near the water,
but rising gradually; destitute of trees, and almost without shrubs
or plants of any kind, excepting a few willow bushes. After travelling
about sixty miles, they came to where the country became very hilly and
the river made its way between rocky banks and down numerous rapids.
The Indians in this vicinity were better clad and altogether in more
prosperous condition than those above, and, as Mr. Hunt thought, showed
their consciousness of ease by something like sauciness of manner. Thus
prosperity is apt to produce arrogance in savage as well as in civilized
life. In both conditions, man is an animal that will not bear pampering.
From these people Mr. Hunt for the first time received vague but deeply
interesting intelligence of that part of the enterprise which had
proceeded by sea to the mouth of the Columbia. The Indians spoke of
a number of white men who had built a large house at the mouth of the
great river, and surrounded it with palisades. None of them had been
down to Astoria themselves; but rumors spread widely and rapidly from
mouth to mouth among the Indian tribes, and are carried to the heart of
the interior by hunting parties and migratory hordes.
The establishment of a trading emporium at such a point, also, was
calculated to cause a sensation to the most remote parts of the vast
wilderness beyond the mountains. It in a manner struck the pulse of the
great vital river, and vibrated up all its tributary streams.
It is surprising to notice how well this remote tribe of savages had
learnt, through intermediate gossips, the private feelings of the
colonists at Astoria; it shows that Indians are not the incurious and
indifferent observers that they have been represented. They told Mr.
Hunt that the white people at the large house had been looking anxiously
for many of their friends, whom they had expected to descend the great
river; and had been in much affliction, fearing that they were lost.
Now, however, the arrival of him and his party would wipe away all their
tears, and they would dance and sing for joy.
On the 31st of January, Mr. Hunt arrived at the falls of the Columbia,
and encamped at the village of the Wish-ram, situated at the head of
that dangerous pass of the river called “the Long Narrows”.