Wintry Storms.--A Halt and Council.--Cantonment for the
Winter.--Fine Hunting Country.--Game of the Mountains and
Plains.-Successful Hunting--Mr. Crooks and a Grizzly Bear.--
The Wigwam.--Bighorn and Black-Tails.--Beef and Venison.--
Good Quarters and Good Cheer.--An Alarm.--An Intrusion.--
Unwelcome Guests.-Desolation of the Larder.--Gormandizing
Exploits of Hungry Savages.--Good Quarters Abandoned.
THE travellers encamped for the night on the banks of the river below
the cataract. The night was cold, with partial showers of rain and
sleet. The morning dawned gloomily, the skies were sullen and overcast,
and threatened further storms; but the little band resumed their
journey, in defiance of the weather. The increasing rigor of the season,
however, which makes itself felt early in these mountainous regions,
and on these naked and elevated plains, brought them to a pause, and
a serious deliberation, after they had descended about thirty miles
further along the course of the river.
All were convinced that it was in vain to attempt to accomplish their
journey, on foot, at this inclement season. They had still many hundred
miles to traverse before they should reach the main course of the
Missouri, and their route would lay over immense prairies, naked and
bleak, and destitute of fuel. The question then was, where to choose
their wintering place, and whether or not to proceed further down the
river. They had at first imagined it to be one of the head waters, or
tributary streams, of the Missouri. Afterwards they had believed it
to be the Rapid, or Quicourt River, in which opinion they had not come
nearer to the truth; they now, however, were persuaded, with equal
fallacy, by its inclining somewhat to the north of east, that it was
the Cheyenne. If so, by continuing down it much further they must arrive
among the Indians, from whom the river takes its name. Among these they
would be sure to meet some of the Sioux tribe. These would appraise
their relatives, the piratical Sioux of the Missouri, of the approach
of a band of white traders; so that, in the spring time, they would be
likely to be waylaid and robbed on their way down the river, by some
party in ambush upon its banks.
Even should this prove to be the Quicourt or Rapid River, it would not
be prudent to winter much further down upon its banks, as, though
they might be out of the range of the Sioux, they would be in the
neighborhood of the Poncas, a tribe nearly as dangerous. It was
resolved, therefore, since they must winter somewhere on this side of
the Missouri, to descend no lower, but to keep up in these solitary
regions, where they would be in no danger of molestation.
They were brought the more promptly and unanimously to this decision,
by coming upon an excellent wintering place, that promised everything
requisite for their comfort. It was on a fine bend of the river, just
below where it issued out from among a ridge of mountains, and bent
towards the northeast. Here was a beautiful low point of land, covered
by cotton-wood, and surrounded by a thick growth of willow, so as to
yield both shelter and fuel, as well as materials for building. The
river swept by in a strong current, about a hundred and fifty yards
wide. To the southeast were mountains of moderate height, the nearest
about two miles off, but the whole chain ranging to the east, south,
and southwest, as far as the eye could reach. Their summits were crowned
with extensive tracts of pitch pine, checkered with small patches of the
quivering aspen. Lower down were thick forests of firs and red cedars,
growing out in many places from the very fissures of the rocks. The
mountains were broken and precipitous, with huge bluffs protruding from
among the forests.
Their rocky recesses and beetling cliffs afforded retreats to
innumerable flocks of the bighorn, while their woody summits and ravines
abounded with bears and black-tailed deer. These, with the numerous
herds of buffalo that ranged the lower grounds along the river, promised
the travellers abundant cheer in their winter quarters.
On the 2d of November, therefore, they pitched their camp for the
winter, on the woody point, and their first thought was to obtain
a supply of provisions. Ben Jones and the two Canadians accordingly
sallied forth, accompanied by two others of the party, leaving but
one to watch the camp. Their hunting was uncommonly successful. In the
course of two days, they killed thirty-two buffaloes, and collected
their meat on the margin of a small brook, about a mile distant.
Fortunately, a severe frost froze the river, so that the meat was easily
transported to the encampment. On a succeeding day, a herd of buffalo
came trampling through the woody bottom on the river banks, and fifteen
more were killed.
It was soon discovered, however, that there was game of a more dangerous
nature in the neighborhood. On one occasion, Mr. Crooks had wandered
about a mile from the camp, and had ascended a small hill commanding a
view of the river. He was without his rifle, a rare circumstance, for
in these wild regions, where one may put up a wild animal, or a wild
Indian, at every turn, it is customary never to stir from the camp-fire
unarmed. The hill where he stood overlooked the place where the
massacre of the buffalo had taken place. As he was looking around on the
prospect, his eye was caught by an object below, moving directly towards
him. To his dismay, he discovered it to be a grizzly bear, with two
cubs. There was no tree at hand into which he could climb; to run, would
only be to provoke pursuit, and he should soon be overtaken. He threw
himself on the ground, therefore, and lay motionless, watching the
movements of the animal with intense anxiety. It continued to advance
until at the foot of the hill, when it turned, and made into the woods,
having probably gorged itself with buffalo flesh. Mr. Crooks made all
haste back to the camp, rejoicing at his escape, and determining never
to stir out again without his rifle. A few days after this circumstance,
a grizzly bear was shot in the neighborhood by Mr. Miller.
As the slaughter of so many buffaloes had provided the party with beef
for the winter, in case they met with no further supply, they now set to
work, heart and hand, to build a comfortable wigwam. In a little while
the woody promontory rang with the unwonted sound of the axe. Some of
its lofty trees were laid low, and by the second evening the cabin was
complete. It was eight feet wide, and eighteen feet long. The walls
were six feet high, and the whole was covered with buffalo skins. The
fireplace was in the centre, and the smoke found its way out by a hole
in the roof.
The hunters were next sent out to procure deer-skins for garments,
moccasins, and other purposes. They made the mountains echo with their
rifles, and, in the course of two days’ hunting, killed twenty-eight
bighorns and black-tailed deer.
The party now reveled in abundance. After all that they had suffered
from hunger, cold, fatigue and watchfulness; after all their perils from
treacherous and savage men, they exulted in the snugness and security of
their isolated cabin, hidden, as they thought, even from the prying eyes
of Indian scouts, and stored with creature comforts; and they looked
forward to a winter of peace and quietness, of roasting, and boiling,
and broiling, and feasting upon venison, and mountain mutton, and bear’s
meat, and marrow bones, and buffalo humps, and other hunter’s dainties,
and of dozing and reposing round their fire, and gossiping over past
dangers and adventures, and telling long hunting stories, until spring
should return; when they would make canoes of buffalo skins and float
themselves down the river.
From such halcyon dreams, they were startled one morning, at daybreak,
by a savage yell. They started tip and seized their rifles. The yell was
repeated by two or three voices. Cautiously peeping out, they beheld,
to their dismay, several Indian warriors among the trees, all armed and
painted in warlike style; being evidently bent on some hostile purpose.
Miller changed countenance as he regarded them. “We are in trouble,”
said he, “these are some of the rascally Arapahays that robbed me
last year.” Not a word was uttered by the rest of the party, but they
silently slung their powder horns and ball pouches, and prepared for
battle. M’Lellan, who had taken his gun to pieces the evening before,
put it together in all haste. He proposed that they should break out the
clay from between the logs, so as to be able to fire upon the enemy.
“Not yet,” replied Stuart; “it will not do to show fear or distrust;
we must first hold a parley. Some one must go out and meet them as a
friend.”
Who was to undertake the task! It was full of peril, as the envoy might
be shot down at the threshold.
“The leader of a party,” said Miller, “always takes the advance.”
“Good!” replied Stuart; “I am ready.” He immediately went forth; one
of the Canadians followed him; the rest of the party remained in the
garrison, to keep the savages in check.
Stuart advanced holding his rifle in one hand, and extending the other
to the savage that appeared to be the chief. The latter stepped forward
and took it; his men followed his example, and all shook hands with
Stuart, in token of friendship. They now explained their errand. They
were a war party of Arapahay braves. Their village lay on a stream
several days’ journey to the eastward. It had been attacked and ravaged
during their absence, by a band of Crows, who had carried off several of
their women, and most of their horses. They were in quest of vengeance.
For sixteen days they had been tracking the Crows about the mountains,
but had not yet come upon them. In the meantime, they had met with
scarcely any game, and were half famished. About two days previously,
they had heard the report of fire-arms among the mountains, and on
searching in the direction of the sound, had come to a place where a
deer had been killed. They had immediately put themselves upon the track
of the hunters, and by following it up, had arrived at the cabin.
Mr. Stuart now invited the chief and another, who appeared to be his
lieutenant, into the hut, but made signs that no one else was to enter.
The rest halted at the door; others came straggling up, until the whole
party, to the number of twenty-three, were gathered before the hut.
They were armed with bows and arrows, tomahawks and scalping knives, and
some few with guns. All were painted and dressed for war, and had a wild
and fierce appearance. Mr. Miller recognized among them some of the very
fellows who had robbed him in the preceding year; and put his comrades
upon their guard. Every man stood ready to resist the first act of
hostility; the savages, however, conducted themselves peaceably, and
showed none of that swaggering arrogance which a war party is apt to
assume.
On entering the hut the chief and his lieutenant cast a wistful look
at the rafters, laden with venison and buffalo meat. Mr. Stuart made a
merit of necessity, and invited them to help themselves. They did not
wait to be pressed. The rafters were soon eased of their burden; venison
and beef were passed out to the crew before the door, and a scene of
gormandizing commenced, of which few can have an idea, who have not
witnessed the gastronomic powers of an Indian, after an interval of
fasting. This was kept up throughout the day; they paused now and then,
it is true, for a brief interval, but only to return to the charge with
renewed ardor. The chief and the lieutenant surpassed all the rest in
the vigor and perseverance of their attacks; as if from their station
they were bound to signalize themselves in all onslaughts. Mr. Stuart
kept them well supplied with choice bits, for it was his policy to
overfeed them, and keep them from leaving the hut, where they served
as hostages for the good conduct of their followers. Once, only, in the
course of the day, did the chief sally forth. Mr. Stuart and one of his
men accompanied him, armed with their rifles, but without betraying any
distrust. The chieftain soon returned, and renewed his attack upon the
larder. In a word, he and his worthy coadjutor, the lieutenant, ate
until they were both stupefied.
Towards evening the Indians made their preparations for the night
according to the practice of war parties. Those outside of the hut threw
up two breastworks, into which they retired at a tolerably early hour,
and slept like overfed hounds. As to the chief and his lieutenant, they
passed the night in the hut, in the course of which, they, two or three
times, got up to eat. The travellers took turns, one at a time, to mount
guard until the morning.
Scarce had the day dawned, when the gormandizing was renewed by the
whole band, and carried on with surprising vigor until ten o’clock, when
all prepared to depart. They had six days’ journey yet to make, they
said, before they should come up with the Crows, who, they understood,
were encamped on a river to the northward. Their way lay through a
hungry country, where there was no game; they would, moreover, have
but little time to hunt; they, therefore, craved a small supply of
provisions for their journey. Mr. Stuart again invited them to help
themselves. They did so with keen forethought, loading themselves with
the choicest parts of the meat, and leaving the late plenteous larder
far gone in a consumption. Their next request was for a supply of
ammunition, having guns, but no powder and ball. They promised to pay
magnificently out of the spoils of their foray. “We are poor now,” said
they, “and are obliged to go on foot, but we shall soon come back laden
with booty, and all mounted on horseback, with scalps hanging at our
bridles. We will then give each of you a horse to keep you from being
tired on your journey.”
“Well,” said Mr. Stuart, “when you bring the horses, you shall have the
ammunition, but not before.” The Indians saw by his determined tone,
that all further entreaty would be unavailing, so they desisted, with a
good-humored laugh, and went off exceedingly well freighted, both within
and without, promising to be back again in the course of a fortnight.
No sooner were they out of hearing, than the luckless travellers held
another council. The security of their cabin was at an end and with
it all their dreams of a quiet and cozy winter. They were between two
fires. On one side were their old enemies, the Crows; on the other side,
the Arapahays, no less dangerous freebooters. As to the moderation of
this war party, they considered it assumed, to put them off their
guard against some more favorable opportunity for a surprisal. It was
determined, therefore, not to await their return, but to abandon, with
all speed, this dangerous neighborhood. From the accounts of their
recent visitors, they were led to believe, though erroneously, that they
were upon the Quicourt, or Rapid River. They proposed now to keep along
it to its confluence with the Missouri; but, should they be prevented
by the rigors of the season from proceeding so far, at least to reach
a part of the river where they might be able to construct canoes of
greater strength and durability than those of buffalo skins.
Accordingly, on the 13th of December, they bade adieu, with many a
regret, to their comfortable quarters where for five weeks they had been
indulging the sweets of repose, of plenty, and of fancied security. They
were still accompanied by their veteran pack-horse, which the Arapahays
had omitted to steal, either because they intended to steal him on their
return, or because they thought him not worth stealing.