A few days after the date of the above Letter, I took leave of Fort
Gibson, and made a transit across the prairies to this place, a
distance of 550 miles, which I have performed entirely alone, and had
the satisfaction of joining my wife, whom I have found in good health,
in a family of my esteemed friends, with whom she has been residing
during my last year of absence.
While at Fort Gibson, on my return from the Camanchees, I was quartered
for a month or two in a room with my fellow-companion in misery,
Captain Wharton, of the dragoons, who had come in from the prairies in
a condition very similar to mine, and laid in a bed in the opposite
corner of the room; where we laid for several weeks, like two grim
ghosts, rolling our glaring and staring eye-balls upon each other, when
we were totally unable to hold converse, other than that which was
exchanged through the expressive language of our hollow, and bilious,
sunken eyes.
The Captain had been sent with a company of dragoons to escort the
Santa Fee Traders through the country of the Camanchees and Pawnees,
and had returned from a rapid and bold foray into the country, with
many of his men sick, and himself attacked with the epidemic of the
country. The Captain is a gentleman of high and noble bearing, of
one of the most respected families in Philadelphia, with a fine and
chivalrous feeling; but with scarce physical stamina sufficient to bear
him up under the rough vicissitudes of his wild and arduous sort of
life in this country.
As soon as our respective surgeons had clarified our flesh and our
bones with calomel, had brought our pulses to beat calmly, our tongues
to ply gently, and our stomachs to digest moderately; we began to feel
pleasure exquisitely in our convalescence, and draw amusement from
mutual relations of scenes and adventures we had witnessed on our
several marches. The Captain convalescing faster than I did, soon got
so as to eat (but not to digest) enormous meals, which visited back
upon him the renewed horrors of his disease; and I, who had got ahead
of him in strength, but not in prudence, was thrown back in my turn,
by similar indulgence; and so we were mutually and repeatedly, until
he at length got so as to feel strength enough to ride, and resolution
enough to swear that he would take leave of that deadly spot, and seek
restoration and health in a cooler and more congenial latitude. So he
had his horse brought up one morning, whilst he was so weak that he
could scarcely mount upon its back, and with his servant, a small negro
boy, packed on another, he steered off upon the prairies towards Fort
Leavenworth, 500 miles to the North, where his company had long since
marched.
I remained a week or two longer, envying the Captain the good luck to
escape from that dangerous ground; and after I had gained strength
sufficient to warrant it, I made preparations to take informal leave,
and wend _my_ way also over the prairies to the Missouri, a distance of
500 miles, and most of the way a solitary wilderness. For this purpose
I had my horse “Charley” brought up from his pasture, where he had been
in good keeping during my illness, and got so fat as to form almost an
objectionable contrast to his master, with whom he was to embark on
a long and tedious journey again, over the vast and almost boundless
prairies.
I had, like the Captain, grown into such a dread of that place, from
the scenes of death that were and had been visited upon it, that I
resolved to be off as soon as I had strength to get on to my horse, and
balance myself upon his back. For this purpose I packed up my canvass
and brushes, and other luggage, and sent them down the river to the
Mississippi, to be forwarded by steamer, to meet me at St. Louis. So,
one fine morning, Charley was brought up and saddled, and a bear-skin
and a buffalo robe being spread upon his saddle, and a coffee-pot
and tin cup tied to it also—with a few pounds of hard biscuit in my
portmanteau—with my fowling-piece in my hand, and my pistols in my
belt—with my sketch-book slung on my back, and a small pocket compass
in my pocket; I took leave of Fort Gibson, even against the advice of
my surgeon and all the officers of the garrison, who gathered around me
to bid me farewell. No argument could contend with the fixed resolve
in my own mind, that if I could get out upon the prairies, and moving
continually to the Northward, I should daily gain strength, and save
myself, possibly, from the jaws of that voracious burial-ground that
laid in front of my room; where I had for months laid and imagined
myself going with other poor fellows, whose mournful dirges were
played under my window from day to day. No one can imagine what was
the dread I felt for that place; nor the pleasure, which was extatic,
when Charley was trembling under me, and I turned him around on the top
of a prairie bluff at a mile distance, to take the last look upon it,
and thank God, as I did audibly, that I was not to be buried within
its enclosure. I said to myself, that “to die on the prairie, and be
devoured by wolves; or to fall in combat and be scalped by an Indian,
would be far more acceptable than the lingering death that would
consign me to the jaws of that insatiable grave,” for which, in the
fever and weakness of my mind, I had contracted so destructive a terror.
So, alone, without other living being with me than my affectionate
horse Charley, I turned my face to the North, and commenced on my long
journey, with confidence full and strong, that I should gain strength
daily; and no one can ever know the pleasure of that moment, which
placed me alone, upon the boundless sea of waving grass, over which my
proud horse was prancing, and I with my life in my own hands, commenced
to steer my course to the banks of the Missouri.
For the convalescent, rising and escaping from the gloom and horrors
of a sick bed, astride of his strong and trembling horse, carrying him
fast and safely over green fields spotted and tinted with waving wild
flowers; and through the fresh and cool breezes that are rushing about
him, as he daily shortens the distance that lies between him and his
wife and little ones, there is an exquisite pleasure yet to be learned,
by those who never have felt it.
Day by day I thus pranced and galloped along, the whole way through
waving grass and green fields, occasionally dismounting and lying in
the grass an hour or so, until the grim shaking and chattering of
an ague chill had passed off; and through the nights, slept on my
bear-skin spread upon the grass, with my saddle for my pillow, and
my buffalo robe drawn over me for my covering. My horse Charley was
picketed near me at the end of his laso, which gave him room for his
grazing; and thus we snored and nodded away the nights, and never were
denied the doleful serenades of the gangs of sneaking wolves that were
nightly perambulating our little encampment, and stationed at a safe
distance from us at sunrise in the morning—gazing at us, and impatient
to pick up the crumbs and bones that were left, when we moved away from
our feeble fire that had faintly flickered through the night, and in
the absence of timber, had been made of dried buffalo dung, (+plate+
184).
This “_Charley_” was a noble animal of the Camanchee wild breed, of
a clay bank colour; and from our long and tried acquaintance, we had
become very much attached to each other, and acquired a wonderful
facility both of mutual accommodation, and of construing each other’s
views and intentions. In fact, we had been so long tried together, that
there would have seemed to the spectator almost an unity of _interest_;
and at all events, an unity of feelings on the subject of attachment,
as well as on that of mutual dependence and protection.
I purchased this very showy and well-known animal of Colonel Burbank,
of the ninth regiment, and rode it the whole distance to the Camanchee
villages and back again; and at the time when most of the horses of the
regiment were drooping and giving out by the way—_Charley_ flourished
and came in in good flesh and good spirits.
On this journey, while he and I were twenty-five days alone, we had
much time, and the best of circumstances, under which to learn what we
had as yet overlooked in each other’s characters, as well as to draw
great pleasure and real benefit from what we already had learned of
each other in our former travels.
I generally halted on the bank of some little stream, at half an hour’s
sun, where feed was good for Charley, and where I could get wood to
kindle my fire, and water for my coffee. The first thing was to undress
“Charley” and drive down his picket, to which he was fastened, to graze
over a circle that he could inscribe at the end of his laso. In this
wise he busily fed himself until nightfall; and after my coffee was
made and drank, I uniformly moved him up, with his picket by my head,
so that I could lay my hand upon his laso in an instant, in case of any
alarm that was liable to drive him from me. On one of these evenings
when he was grazing as usual, he slipped the laso over his head, and
deliberately took his supper at his pleasure, wherever he chose to
prefer it, as he was strolling around. When night approached, I took
the laso in hand and endeavoured to catch him, but I soon saw that he
was determined to enjoy a little freedom; and he continually evaded
me until dark, when I abandoned the pursuit, making up my mind that I
should inevitably lose him, and be obliged to perform the rest of my
journey on foot. He had led me a chase of half a mile or more, when I
left him busily grazing, and returned to my little solitary bivouac,
and laid myself on my bear skin, and went to sleep.
In the middle of the night I waked, whilst I was lying on my back, and
on half opening my eyes, I was instantly shocked to the soul, by the
huge figure (as I thought) of an Indian, standing over me, and in the
very instant of taking my scalp! The chill of horror that paralyzed me
for the first moment, held me still till I saw there was no need of
my moving—that my faithful horse “Charley” had “played shy” till he
had “filled his belly,” and had then moved up, from feelings of pure
affection, or from instinctive fear, or possibly, from a due share of
both, and taken his position with his forefeet at the edge of my bed,
with his head hanging directly over me, while he was standing fast
asleep!
My nerves, which had been most violently shocked, were soon quieted,
and I fell asleep, and so continued until sunrise in the morning, when
I waked, and beheld my faithful servant at some considerable distance,
busily at work picking up his breakfast amongst the cane-brake, along
the bank of the creek. I went as busily to work, preparing my own,
which was eaten, and after it, I had another half-hour of fruitless
endeavours to catch Charley, whilst he seemed mindful of success on
the evening before, and continually tantalized me by turning around
and around, and keeping out of my reach. I recollected the conclusive
evidence of his attachment and dependence, which he had voluntarily
given in the night, and I thought I would try them in another way. So
I packed up my things and slung the saddle on my back, trailing my gun
in my hand, and started on my route. After I had advanced a quarter
of a mile, I looked back, and saw him standing with his head and tail
very high, looking alternately at me and at the spot where I had been
encamped, and left a little fire burning. In this condition he stood
and surveyed the prairies around for a while, as I continued on.
He, at length, walked with a hurried step to the spot, and seeing
everything gone, began to neigh very violently, and at last started off
at fullest speed, and overtook me, passing within a few paces of me,
and wheeling about at a few rods distance in front of me, trembling
like an aspen leaf.
[Illustration: 184]
I called him by his familiar name, and walked up to him with the bridle
in my hand, which I put over his head, as he held it down for me, and
the saddle on his back, as he actually stooped to receive it. I was
soon arranged, and on his back, when he started off upon his course as
if he was well contented and pleased, like his rider, with the manœuvre
which had brought us together again, and afforded us mutual relief
from our awkward positions. Though this alarming freak of “Charley’s”
passed off and terminated so satisfactorily; yet I thought such rather
dangerous ones to play, and I took good care after that night, to keep
him under my strict authority; resolving to avoid further tricks and
experiments till we got to the land of cultivated fields and steady
habits.
On the night of this memorable day, Charley and I stopped in one of the
most lovely little valleys I ever saw, and even far more beautiful than
could have been _imagined_ by mortal man. An enchanting little lawn of
five or six acres, on the banks of a cool and rippling stream, that was
alive with fish; and every now and then, a fine brood of young ducks,
just old enough for delicious food, and too unsophisticated to avoid an
easy and simple death. This little lawn was surrounded by bunches and
copses of the most luxuriant and picturesque foliage, consisting of the
lofty bois d’arcs and elms, spreading out their huge branches, as if
offering protection to the rounded groups of cherry and plum-trees that
supported festoons of grapevines, with their purple clusters that hung
in the most tempting manner over the green carpet that was everywhere
decked out with wild flowers, of all tints and of various sizes, from
the modest wild sun-flowers, with their thousand tall and drooping
heads, to the lillies that stood, and the violets that crept beneath
them. By the side of this cool stream, Charley was fastened, and near
him my bear-skin was spread in the grass, and by it my little fire, to
which I soon brought a fine string of perch from the brook; from which,
and a broiled duck, and a delicious cup of coffee, I made my dinner
and supper, which were usually united in one meal, at half an hour’s
sun. After this I strolled about this sweet little paradise, which I
found was chosen, not only by myself, but by the wild deer, which were
repeatedly rising from their quiet lairs, and bounding out, and over
the graceful swells of the prairies which hemmed in, and framed this
little picture of sweetest tints and most masterly touches.
The Indians also, I found, had loved it once, and left it; for here
and there were their solitary and deserted graves, which told, though
briefly, of former chaunts and sports; and perhaps, of wars and deaths,
that have once rung and echoed through this little silent vale.
On my return to my encampment, I laid down upon my back, and looked
awhile into the blue heavens that were over me, with their pure
and milk white clouds that were passing—with the sun just setting
in the West, and the silver moon rising in the East, and renewed
the impressions of my own insignificance, as I contemplated the
incomprehensible mechanism of that _wonderful clock_, whose time is
infallible, and whose motion is eternity! I trembled, at last, at the
dangerous expanse of my thoughts, and turned them again, and my eyes,
upon the little and more comprehensible things that were about me. One
of the first was a _newspaper_, which I had brought from the Garrison,
the National Intelligencer, of Washington, which I had read for years,
but never with quite the zest and relish that I now conversed over its
familiar columns, in this clean and sweet valley of dead silence!
And while reading, I thought of (and laughed), what I had almost
forgotten, the sensation I produced amongst the Minatarees while on the
Upper Missouri, a few years since, by taking from amongst my painting
apparatus an old number of the _New York Commercial Advertiser_, edited
by my kind and tried friend Colonel Stone. The Minatarees thought that
I was mad, when they saw me for hours together, with my eyes fixed upon
its pages. They had different and various conjectures about it; the
most current of which was, that I was looking at it to cure my sore
eyes, and they called it the “_medicine cloth for sore eyes_!” I at
length put an end to this and several equally ignorant conjectures,
by reading passages in it, which were interpreted to them, and the
objects of the paper fully explained; after which, it was looked upon
as much greater mystery than before; and several liberal offers were
made me for it, which I was obliged to refuse, having already received
a beautifully garnished robe for it, from the hands of a young son of
Esculapius, who told me that if he could employ a good interpreter to
explain everything in it, he could travel about amongst the Minatarees
and Mandans, and Sioux, and exhibit it after I was gone; getting rich
with presents, and adding greatly to the list of his _medicines_, as
it would make him a great _Medicine-Man_. I left with the poor fellow
his painted robe, and the newspaper; and just before I departed, I saw
him unfolding it to show to some of his friends, when he took from
around it, some eight or ten folds of birch bark and deer skins; all of
which were carefully enclosed in a sack made of the skin of a pole cat,
and undoubtedly destined to become, and to be called, his mystery or
_medicine-bag_.
The distance from Fort Gibson to the Missouri, where I struck the
river, is about five hundred miles, and most of the way a beautiful
prairie, in a wild and uncultivated state without roads and without
bridges, over a great part of which I steered my course with my
pocket-compass, fording and swimming the streams in the best manner I
could; shooting prairie hens, and occasionally catching fish, which I
cooked for my meals, and slept upon the ground at night. On my way I
visited “Riqua’s Village” of Osages, and lodged during the night in the
hospitable cabin of my old friend Beatte, of whom I have often spoken
heretofore, as one of the guides and hunters for the dragoons on their
campaign in the Camanchee country. This was the most extraordinary
hunter, I think, that I ever have met in all my travels. _To “hunt,”_
was a phrase almost foreign to him, however, for when he went out with
his rifle, it was “_for meat_,” or “_for cattle_;” and he never came
in without it. He never told how many animals he had seen—how many he
had wounded, &c.—but his horse was always loaded with meat, which was
thrown down in camp without comment or words spoken. Riqua was an early
pioneer of Christianity in this country, who has devoted many years
of his life, with his interesting family, in endeavouring to civilize
and christianize these people, by the force of pious and industrious
examples, which he has successfully set them; and, I think, in the most
judicious way, by establishing a little village, at some miles distance
from the villages of the Osages; where he has invited a considerable
number of families who have taken their residence by the side of him;
where they are following his virtuous examples in their dealings and
modes of life, and in agricultural pursuits which he is teaching them,
and showing them that they may raise the comforts and luxuries of life
out of the ground, instead of seeking for them in the precarious manner
in which they naturally look for them, in the uncertainty of the chase.
It was a source of much regret to me, that I did not see this pious
man, as he was on a Tour to the East, when I was in his little village.
Beatte lived in this village with his aged parents, to whom he
introduced me; and with whom, altogether, I spent a very pleasant
evening in conversation. They are both French, and have spent the
greater part of their lives with the Osages, and seem to be familiar
with their whole history. This Beatte was the hunter and guide for a
party of rangers (the summer before our campaign), with whom Washington
Irving made his excursion to the borders of the Pawnee country; and
of whose extraordinary character and powers, Mr. Irving has drawn a
very just and glowing account, excepting one error which I think he
has inadvertently fallen into, that of calling him a “_half breed_.”
Beatte had complained of this to me often while out on the prairies;
and when I entered his hospitable cabin, he said he was glad to see me,
and almost instantly continued, “Now you shall see, Monsieur Catline, I
am not ‘_half breed_,’ here I shall introduce you to my father and my
mother, who you see are two very nice and good old French people.”
From this cabin where I fared well and slept soundly, I started in the
morning, after taking with them a good cup of coffee, and went smoothly
on over the prairies on my course.
About the middle of my journey, I struck a road leading into a small
civilized settlement, called the “_Kickapoo prairie_,” to which I “bent
my course;” and riding up to a log cabin which was kept as a sort of
an hotel or tavern, I met at the door, the black boy belonging to my
friend Captain Wharton, who I have said took his leave of Fort Gibson
a few weeks before me; I asked the boy where his master was, to which
he replied, “My good massa, Massa Wharton, in dese house, jist dead ob
de libber compliment!” I dismounted and went in, and to my deepest
sorrow and anguish, I found him, as the boy said, nearly dead, without
power to raise his head or his voice—his eyes were rolled upon me, and
as he recognized me he took me by the hand, which he firmly gripped,
whilst both shed tears in profusion. By placing my ear to his lips, his
whispers could be heard, and he was able in an imperfect manner to make
his views and his wishes known. His disease seemed to be a repeated
attack of his former malady, and a severe affection of the liver, which
was to be (as his physician said) the proximate cause of his death. I
conversed with his physician who seemed to be a young and inexperienced
man, who told me that he certainly could not live more than ten days. I
staid two days with him, and having no means with me of rendering him
pecuniary or other aid amongst strangers, I left him in kind hands, and
started on my course again. My health improved daily, from the time of
my setting out at Fort Gibson; and I was now moving along cheerfully,
and in hopes soon to reach the end of my toilsome journey. I had yet
vast prairies to pass over, and occasional latent difficulties, which
were not apparent on their smooth and deceiving surfaces. Deep sunken
streams, like ditches, occasionally presented themselves suddenly to my
view, when I was within a few steps of plunging into them from their
perpendicular sides, which were overhung with long wild grass, and
almost obscured from the sight. The bearings of my compass told me that
I must cross them, and the only alternative was to plunge into them,
and get out as well as I could. They were often muddy, and I could
not tell whether they were three or ten feet deep, until my horse was
in them; and sometimes he went down head foremost, and I with him, to
scramble out on the opposite shore in the best condition we could. In
one of these canals, which I had followed for several miles in the
vain hope of finding a shoal, or an accustomed ford, I plunged, with
Charley, where it was about six or eight yards wide (and God knows how
deep, for we did not go to the bottom), and swam him to the opposite
bank, on to which I clung; and which, being perpendicular and of clay,
and three or four feet higher than the water, was an insurmountable
difficulty to Charley; and I led the poor fellow at least a mile, as
I walked on the top of the bank, with the bridle in my hand, holding
his head above the water as he was swimming; and I at times almost
inextricably entangled in the long grass that was often higher than my
head, and hanging over the brink, filled and woven together, with ivy
and wild pea-vines. I at length (and just before I was ready to drop
the rein of faithful Charley, in hopeless despair), came to an old
buffalo ford, where the banks were graded down, and the poor exhausted
animal, at last got out, and was ready and willing to take me and my
luggage (after I had dried them in the sun) on the journey again.
The Osage river which is a powerful stream, I struck at a place which
seemed to stagger my courage very much. There had been heavy rains but
a few days before, and this furious stream was rolling along its wild
and turbid waters, with a freshet upon it, that spread its waters,
in many places over its banks, as was the case at the place where I
encountered it. There seemed to be but little choice in places with
this stream, which, with its banks full, was sixty or eighty yards
in width, with a current that was sweeping along at a rapid rate. I
stripped everything from Charley, and tied him with his laso, until
I travelled the shores up and down for some distance, and collected
drift wood enough for a small raft, which I constructed, to carry my
clothes and saddle, and other things, safe over. This being completed,
and my clothes taken off, and they with other things, laid upon
the raft, I took Charley to the bank and drove him in and across,
where he soon reached the opposite shore, and went to feeding on the
bank. Next was to come the “_great white medicine_;” and with him,
saddle, bridle, saddle-bags, sketch-book, gun and pistols, coffee and
coffee-pot, powder, and his clothes, all of which were placed upon the
raft, and the raft pushed into the stream, and the “_medicine man_”
swimming behind it, and pushing it along before him, until it reached
the opposite shore, at least half a mile below! From this, his things
were carried to the top of the bank, and in a little time, Charley was
caught and dressed, and straddled, and on the way again.
These are a few of the incidents of that journey of 500 miles, which I
performed entirely alone, and which at last brought me out at Boonville
on the Western bank of the Missouri. While I was crossing the river
at that place, I met General Arbuckle, with two surgeons, who were to
start the next day from Boonville for Fort Gibson, travelling over
the route that I had just passed. I instantly informed them of the
condition of poor Wharton, and the two surgeons were started off that
afternoon at fullest speed, with orders to reach him in the shortest
time possible, and do everything to save his life. I assisted in
purchasing for him, several little things that he had named to me, such
as jellies—acids—apples, &c. &c.; and saw them start; and (God knows),
I shall impatiently hope to hear of their timely assistance, and of his
recovery.[12]
From Boonville, which is a very pretty little town, building up with
the finest style of brick houses, I crossed the river to New Franklin,
where I laid by several days, on account of stormy weather; and from
thence proceeded with success to the end of my journey, where I now am,
under the roof of kind and hospitable friends, with my dear wife, who
has patiently waited one year to receive me back, a wreck, as I now am;
and who is to start in a few days with me to the coast of Florida, 1400
miles South of this, to spend the winter in patching up my health, and
fitting me for future campaigns.
On this Tour (from which I shall return in the spring, if my health
will admit of it), I shall visit the Seminoles in Florida,—the
Euchees—the Creeks in Alabama and Georgia, and the Choctaws and
Cherokees, who are yet remaining on their lands, on the East side of
the Mississippi.
We take steamer for New Orleans to morrow, so, till after another
campaign, Adieu.
[12] I have great satisfaction in informing the reader, that I
learned a year or so after the above date, that those two skilful
surgeons hastened on with all possible speed to the assistance of
this excellent gentleman, and had the satisfaction of conducting
him to his post after he had entirely and permanently recovered his
health.
LETTER—No. 47.