ABANDON OUR CAMP AND HORSE IN SEARCH OF SETTLEMENTS--INCIDENTS
OF THE FIRST DAY--HEAR A SHOT--CAMP IN AN OLD INDIAN LODGE--
ACORNS FOR SUPPER--KILL A WOODPECKER--INCIDENTS OF THE SECOND
DAY--STERILE RIDGES--WANT OF WATER--CAMP AT NIGHT IN A DEEP
GORGE--INCIDENTS OF THE THIRD DAY--FIND A HORSE-PATH, AND
PURSUE IT--DISCOVER A MAN ON HORSEBACK--REACH A HUNTER'S
CABIN--INCIDENTS THERE--HE CONDUCTS US BACK TO OUR OLD CAMP
--DESERTED THERE WITHOUT PROVISIONS--DEPLORABLE STATE--SHIFTS
--TAKING OF A TURKEY.
Nov. 27th. Action is the price of safety in the woods. Neither dreams
nor poetic visions kept us on our pallets a moment longer than it was
light enough to see the grey tints of morning. Each of us prepared a
compact knapsack, containing a blanket and a few absolute necessaries,
and gave our belts an extra jerk before lifting our guns to our
shoulders; then, secretly wishing our friend Butcher a good time in the
canebrake, we set out with a light pace towards the south. My companion
Bonee[8] was much attached to tea, and, as the article of a small tin
pot was indispensable to the enjoyment of this beverage, he burthened
himself with this appendage by strapping it on his back with a green
sash. This was not a very military sort of accoutrement; but as he did
not pride himself in that way, and had not, in fact, the least notion of
the ridiculous figure he cut with it, I was alone in my unexpressed
sense of the Fridayishness of his looks on the march, day by day, across
the prairies and through the woods, with this not very glittering
culinary appendage dangling at his back.
Hope gave animation to our steps. We struck out from the valley
southerly, which brought us to an elevated open tract, partially wooded,
in which the walking was good. After travelling about six miles, we
heard the report of a gun on our left. Supposing it to proceed from some
white hunter, we tried to get into communication with him, and hallooed
stoutly. This was answered. I withdrew the ball from my gun, and fired.
We then followed the course of the shot and halloo. But, although a
whoop was once heard, which seemed from its intonation to be Indian, we
were unsuccessful in gaining an interview, and, after losing a good deal
of time in the effort, were obliged to give it up, and proceed. We had
now lost some hours.
Much of our way lay through open oak forests, with a thick bed of fallen
leaves, and we several times searched under these for sweet acorns; but
we uniformly found that the wild turkeys had been too quick for
us--every sweet acorn had been scratched up and eaten, and none remained
but such as were bitter and distasteful. On descending an eminence, we
found the sassafras plentifully, and, breaking off branches of it,
chewed them, which took away the astringent and bad taste of the acorns.
As night approached, we searched in vain for water on the elevated
grounds, and were compelled to seek the river valley, where we encamped
in an old Indian wigwam of bark, and found the night chilly and cold. We
turned restlessly on our pallets, waiting for day.
Nov. 28th. Daylight was most welcome. I built a fire against the stump
of a dead tree, which had been broken off by lightning at a height of
some thirty or forty feet from the ground. We here boiled our tea, and
accurately divided about half an ounce of dried meat, being the last
morsel we had. While thus engaged, a red-headed woodpecker lit on the
tree, some fifteen or twenty feet above our heads, and began pecking.
The visit was a most untimely one for the bird. In a few more moments,
he lay dead at the foot of the tree, and, being plucked, roasted, and
divided, furnished out our repast. We then gave the straps of our
accoutrements a tight jerk, by way of preventing a flaccid stomach--an
Indian habit--and set forward with renewed strength and hope. We
travelled this day over a rolling country of hill and dale, with little
to relieve the eye or demand observation, and laid down at night,
fatigued, in the edge of a canebrake.
Nov. 29th. A dense fog, which overhung the whole valley, prevented our
quitting camp at a very early hour. When it arose, and the atmosphere
became sufficiently clear to discern our way, we ascended the hills to
our left, and took a west-south-west course.
Nothing can exceed the roughness and sterility of the country we have
to-day traversed, and the endless succession of steep declivities, and
broken, rocky precipices, surmounted. Our line of march, as soon as we
left the low grounds of the river valley, led over moderately elevated
ridges of oak-openings. We came at length to some hickory trees. Beneath
one of them, the nuts laid in quantities on the ground. We sat down, and
diligently commenced cracking them; but this was soon determined to be
too slow a process to satisfy hungry men, and, gathering a quantity for
our night's encampment, we pushed forward diligently. Tramp! tramp!
tramp! we walked resolutely on, in a straight line, over hill and dale.
Trees, rocks, prairie-grass, the jumping squirrel, the whirring
quail--we gave them a glance, and passed on. We finally saw the sun set;
evening threw its shades around; night presented its sombre hue; and, as
it grew dark, it became cloudy and cold. Still, no water to encamp by
was found, and it finally became so dark that we were forced to grope
our way. By groping in the darkness, we at length stood on the brink of
a precipice, and could distinctly hear the gurgling sound of running
water in the gulf below. It was a pleasing sound; for we had not tasted
a drop since early dawn. Had we still had our horse, we should not have
been able to get him down in the darkness; but, by seizing hold of
bushes, and feeling our way continually, we reached the bottom, and
encamped immediately by the stream. It was a small run of pure mountain
water. Soon a fire arose on its banks. We cracked a few of the nuts. We
drank our accustomed tin-cup of tea. We wrapped ourselves in our
blankets upon its immediate margin, and knew no more till early
daylight, when a cold air had quite chilled us.
Nov. 30th. We were happy to get out of this gulf at the earliest dawn.
After travelling a couple of miles, we stepped suddenly into a
well-beaten horse-path, running transversely to our course, with fresh
horse-tracks leading both ways. We stopped to deliberate which end of
the path to take. I thought the right-hand would conduct us to the mouth
of the river which we had been pursuing down, where it could hardly fail
there should be hunters or pioneer settlers located. My companion
thought the left hand should be taken, without offering any satisfactory
reason for it. I determined, in an instant, to rise above him mentally,
by yielding the point, and set out with a firm and ready pace to the
left. We travelled diligently about three miles without meeting anything
to note, but were evidently going back into the wilderness we had just
left, by a wider circuit, when my companion relented, and we turned
about on our tracks toward the mouth of the river. We had not gone far,
and had not yet reached the point of our original issue from the forest,
when we descried a man on horseback, coming toward us. Joy flashed in
our eyes. When he came up, he told us that there was a hunter located at
the mouth of the river, and another, named Wells, nearly equidistant on
the path he was pursuing; and that, if we would follow him, he would
guide us to the latter. This we immediately determined to do, and, after
travelling about seven miles, came in sight of the cabin.
Our approach was announced by a loud and long-continued barking of dogs,
who required frequent bidding from their master before they could be
pacified. The first object worthy of remark that presented itself on our
emerging from the forest, was a number of deer, bear, and other skins,
fastened to a kind of rude frame, supported by poles, which occupied the
area about the house. These trophies of skill in the chase were regarded
with great complacency by our conductor, as he pointed them out, and he
remarked that Wells was "a great hunter, and a forehanded man." There
were a number of acres of ground, from which he had gathered a crop of
corn. The house was a substantial, new-built log tenement, of one room.
The family consisted of the hunter and his wife, and four or five
children, two of whom were men grown, and the youngest a boy of about
sixteen. All, males and females, were dressed in leather prepared from
deerskins. The host himself was a middle-sized, light-limbed,
sharp-faced man. Around the walls of the room hung horns of the deer and
buffalo, with a rifle, shot-pouches, leather coats, dried meats, and
other articles, giving unmistakeable signs of the vocation of our host.
The furniture was of his own fabrication. On one side hung a deerskin,
sewed up in somewhat the shape of the living animal, containing bears'
oil. In another place hung a similar vessel, filled with wild honey.
All the members of the family seemed erudite in the knowledge of
woodcraft, the ranges and signs of animals, and their food and habits;
and while the wife busied herself in preparing our meal, she
occasionally stopped to interrogate us, or take part in the
conversation. When she had finished her preparations, she invited us to
sit down to a delicious meal of warm corn-bread and butter, honey and
milk, to which we did ample justice. A more satisfactory meal I never
made.
It was late in the afternoon when our supper was prepared, and we spent
the evening in giving and receiving information of the highest practical
interest to each party. Wells recited a number of anecdotes of hunting,
and of his domestic life. We repaid him with full accounts of our
adventures. What appeared to interest him most, was the accounts of the
bears and other wild animals we had seen. When the hour for rest
arrived, we opened our sacks, and, spreading our blankets on a bearskin
which he furnished, laid down before the fire, and enjoyed a sound
night's repose.
Dec. 1st. We were up with the earliest dawning of light, and determined
to regain our position at Camp No, on the Great North Fork, with all
possible despatch, and pursue our tour westward. We had understood from
the conversation of the hunters among themselves, that they designed
forthwith to proceed on a hunting excursion into the region we had
passed, on the Great North Fork, and determined to avail ourselves of
their guidance to our deposits and horse. We understood that our course
from that point had been circuitous, and that the place could be reached
by a direct line of twenty miles' travel due north-west. We purchased
from our host a dressed deerskin for moccasins, a small quantity of
Indian corn, some wild honey, and a little lead. The corn required
pounding to convert it into meal. This we accomplished by a pestle,
fixed to a loaded swing-pole, playing into a mortar burned into an oak
stump. The payment for these articles, being made in money, excited the
man's cupidity; for, although he had previously determined on going in
that direction, he now refused to guide us to Camp No, unless paid for
it. This was also assented to, with the agreement to furnish us with the
carcase of a deer.
By eleven o'clock, A. M., all was ready, and, shouldering our knapsacks
and guns, we set forward, accompanied by our host, his three sons, and a
neighbor, making our party to consist of seven men, all mounted on
horses but ourselves, and followed by a pack of hungry, yelping dogs.
Our course was due north-west. As we were heavily laden and sore-footed,
our shoes being literally worn from our feet by the stony tracts we had
passed over, the cavalcade were occasionally obliged to halt till we
came up. This proved such a cause of delay to them, that they finally
agreed to let us ride and walk, alternately, with the young men. In this
way we passed over an undulating tract, not heavily timbered, until
about ten o'clock at night, when we reached our abandoned camp, where we
found our baggage safe. A couple of the men had been detached from the
party, early in the morning, to hunt the stipulated deer; but they did
not succeed in finding any, and came in long before us, with a pair of
turkeys. One of these we despatched for supper, and then all betook
themselves to repose.
Dec. 2d. One of the first objects that presented itself this morning was
our horse Butcher, from the neighboring canebrake, who did not seem to
have well relished his fare on cane leaves, and stood doggedly in front
of our cabin, with a pertinacity which seemed to say, "Give me my
portion of corn." Poor animal! he had not thriven on the sere grass and
scanty water of the Ozarks, where he had once tumbled down the sides of
a cliff with a pack on, been once plunged in the river beyond his depth,
and often struggled with the tangled greenbriar of the valleys, which
held him by the foot. With every attention, he had fallen away; and he
seemed to anticipate that he was yet destined to become wolf's-meat on
the prairies.
The hunters were up with the earliest dawn, and several of them went out
in quest of game, recollecting their promise to us on that head; but
they all returned after an absence of a couple of hours, unsuccessful.
By this time we had cooked the other turkey for breakfast, which just
sufficed for the occasion. The five men passed a few moments about the
fire, then suddenly caught and saddled their horses, and, mounting
together, bid us good morning, and rode off. We were taken quite aback
by this movement, supposing that they would have felt under obligation,
as they had been paid for it, to furnish us some provisions. We looked
intently after them, as they rode up the long sloping eminence to the
north of us. They brought forcibly to my mind the theatrical
representation, in the background, of the march of the Forty Thieves, as
they wind down the mountain, before they present themselves at the front
of the cave, with its charmed gates. But there was no "open sesame!" for
us. Cast once more on our own resources in the wilderness, the
alternative seemed to be pressed upon our minds, very forcibly, "hunt or
starve." Serious as the circumstances appeared, yet, when we reflected
upon their manners and conversation, their obtuseness to just
obligation, their avarice, and their insensibility to our actual wants,
we could not help rejoicing that they were gone.
Dec. 3d. Left alone, we began to reflect closely on our situation, and
the means of extricating ourselves from this position. If we had called
it camp "No" from our disappointment at not finding it inhabited on our
first arrival, it was now again appropriately camp "No," from not
obtaining adequate relief from the hunters. We had procured a dressed
buckskin for making moccasins. We had a little pounded corn, in a shape
to make hunters' bread. We had not a mouthful of meat. I devoted part of
the day to making a pair of Indian shoes. We had not a single charge of
shot left. We had procured lead enough to mould just five bullets. This
I carefully did. I then sallied out in search of game, scanning
cautiously the neighboring canebrake, and fired, at different times,
three balls, unsuccessfully, at turkeys. It was evident, as I had the
birds within range, that my gun had been sprung in the heavy fall I had
had, as before related, in the crossing Calamarca. My companion then
took _his_ gun, and also made an unsuccessful shot. When evening
approached, a flock of turkeys came to roost near by. We had now just
_one_ ball left; everything depended on _that_. I took it to the large
and firm stump of an oak, and cut it into exactly thirty-two pieces,
with geometrical precision. I then beat the angular edges of each, until
they assumed a sufficiently globular shape to admit of their being
rolled on a hard surface, under a pressure. This completed their
globular form. I then cleansed my companion's gun, and carefully loaded
it with the thirty-two shot. We then proceeded to the roost, which was
on some large oaks, in a contiguous valley. I carried a torch, which I
had carefully made at the camp. My companion took the loaded gun, and I,
holding the torch near the sights at the same time, so that its rays
fell directly on the birds, he selected one, and fired. It proved to be
one of the largest and heaviest, and fell to the earth with a sound. We
now returned to camp, and prepared a part of it for supper, determining
to husband the remainder so as to last till we should reach settlements
by holding a due west course.
Dec. 4th. We had prepared ourselves to start west this day; but it
rained from early dawn to dark, which confined us closely to our cabin.
Rain is one of the greatest annoyances to the woodsman. Generally, he
has no shelter against it, and must sit in it, ride in it, or walk in
it. Where there is no shelter, the two latter are preferable. But, as we
had a split-board roof, we kept close, and busied ourselves with more
perfect preparations for our next sally. I had some minerals that
admitted of being more closely and securely packed, and gladly availed
myself of the opportunity to accomplish it. Our foot and leg gear, also,
required renovating. Experience had been our best teacher from the
first; and hunger and danger kept us perpetually on the _qui vive_, and
made us wise in little expedients.
FOOTNOTE:
[8] Elision of Pettibone.