“White men! your words are very smooth; you have some object in view or
you would not be so determined to go—you have no good design, and the
quicker you turn back the better; there is no use of talking any more
about it—if you think best to go, try it; that’s all I have to say.”
(“How, how!”)
During this scene, the son of Monsr. Le Blanc was standing by, and
seeing this man threatening me so hard by putting his fist near my
face; he several times stepped up to him, and told him to stand back
at a respectful distance, or that he would knock him down. After their
speaking was done, I made a few remarks, stating that we should go
ahead, which we did the next morning, by saddling our horses and riding
off through the midst of them, as I have before described.
Le Blanc told us, that these were the most disorderly and treacherous
part of the Sioux nation, that they had repeatedly threatened his life,
and that he expected they would take it. He advised us to go back as
they ordered; but we heeded not his advice.
On our way we were notified at several of their villages which
we passed, that we must go back; but we proceeded on, and over a
beautiful prairie country, of one hundred miles or more, when our
Indian guide brought us to the trading-house of an old acquaintance of
mine, Monsieur La Fromboise, who lives very comfortably, and in the
employment of the American Fur Company, near the base of the Côteau,
and forty or fifty miles from the Pipe Stone Quarry.
We rode up unexpectedly, and at full gallop, to his door, when he met
us and addressed us as follows:—
“Ha! Monsr. how do you do?—Quoi! ha, est ce vous, Monsr. Cataline—est
il possible? Oui, oui, vraiment le meme—mon ami, Cataline—comment se
va-t-il? et combien (pardon me though, for I can speak English). How
have you been since I saw you last season? and how under Heaven, have
you wandered into this wild region, so far from civilization? Dismount,
dismount, gentlemen, and you are welcome to the comforts, such as they
are, of my little cabin.”
“Monsr. La Fromboise, allow me to introduce to your acquaintance, my
friend, and travelling companion, Mr. Wood, of England.”
“Monsr. Wood, I am happy to see you, and I hope you will make allowance
for the rudeness of my cabin, and the humble manner in which I shall
entertain you.”
“I assure you, my dear sir, that no apology is necessary; for your
house looks as delightful as a palace, to Mr. Catlin and myself, who
have so long been tenants of the open air.”
“Gentlemen, walk in; we are surrounded with red folks here, and you
will be looked upon by them with great surprise.”
“That’s what we want to see exactly. Catlin! that’s fine—oh! how lucky
we are.”
“Well, gentlemen, walk into the other room; you see I have two rooms
to my house (or rather cabin), but they are small and unhandy. Such as
I have shall be at your service heartily; and I assure you, gentlemen,
that this is the happiest moment of my life. I cannot give you
feather-beds to sleep on; but I have a plenty of new robes, and you,
at all events, Monsr. Cataline, know by this time how to make a bed of
them. We can give you plenty of buffalo meat, buffalo tongues, wild
geese, ducks, prairie hens, venison, trout, young swan, beaver tails,
pigeons, plums, grapes, young bear, some green corn, squash, onions,
water-melons, and pommes des terres, some coffee and some tea.”
“My good friend, one-half or one-third of these things (which are all
luxuries to us) would render us happy; put yourself to no trouble on
our account, and we shall be perfectly happy under your roof.”
“I am very sorry, gentlemen, that I cannot treat you as I would be
glad to do; but you must make up for these things if you are fond of
sporting, for there are plenty of buffaloes about; at a little distance
the prairies are speckled with them; and our prairies and lakes abound
with myriads of prairie hens, ducks, geese and swan. You shall make me
a long visit, gentlemen, and we will have sport in abundance. I assure
you, that I shall be perfectly happy whilst you are with me. Pardon me
a little, while I order you some dinner, and attend to some Indians who
are in my store, trading, and taking their fall credits.”
“That’s a fine fellow I’ll engage you,” said my companion.
“Yes, he is all that. I have known him before; he is a gentleman, and
a polished one too, every ounce of him. You see in this instance how
durable and lasting are the manners of a true gentleman, and how little
a life-time of immersion in the wilderness, amid the reckless customs
of savage life, will extinguish or efface them. I could name you a
number of such, whose surface seems covered with a dross, which once
rubbed of, shows a polish brighter than ever.”
We spent a day or two very pleasantly with this fine and hospitable
fellow, until we had rested from the fatigue of our journey; when he
very kindly joined us with fresh horses, and piloted us to the Pipe
Stone Quarry, where he is now encamped with us, a jolly companionable
man, and familiar with most of the events and traditions of this
strange place, which he has visited on former occasions.[30]
La Fromboise has some good Indian blood in his veins, and from his
modes of life, as well as from a natural passion that seems to belong
to the French adventurers in these wild regions, he has a great relish
for songs and stories, of which he gives us many, and much pleasure;
and furnishes us one of the most amusing and gentlemanly companions
that could possibly be found. My friend Wood sings delightfully,
also, and as I cannot sing, but can tell, now and then, a story, with
tolerable effect, we manage to pass away our evenings, in our humble
bivouack, over our buffalo meat and prairie hens, with much fun and
amusement. In these nocturnal amusements, I have done _my_ part, by
relating anecdotes of my travels on the Missouri, and other parts of
the Indian country which I have been over; and occasionally reading
from my note-book some of the amusing entries I had formerly made in
it, but never have had time to transcribe for the world.
As I can’t write music, and _can_ (in my own way) write a story, the
readers will acquit me of egotism or partiality, in reporting only _my
own part_ of the entertainments; which was generally the mere reading
a story or two from my notes which I have with me, or relating some of
the incidents of life which my old travelling companion “_Batiste_” and
I had witnessed in former years.
Of these, I read one last evening, that pleased my good friend La
Fromboise so exceedingly, that I am constrained to copy it into my
Letter and send it home.
This amusing story is one that my man Ba’tiste used to tell to Bogard,
and others with great zest; describing his adventure one night, in
endeavouring to procure a _medicine-bag_, which I had employed him to
obtain for me on the Upper Missouri; and he used to prelude it thus:—
“Je commence—”
“Dam your commonce, (said Bogard), tell it in English—”
“Pardón, Monsieur, en Americaine—”
“Well, American then, if you please; anything but your darned ‘_parlez
vous_.’”
“Bien, excusez—now Monsieur Bogard, you must know first place, de
‘_Medicine-Bags_’ is mere humbug, he is no _medicine_ in him—no pills;
he is someting mysterieux. Some witchcraft, súppose. You must know
que tous les sauvages have such tings about him, pour for good luck.
Ce n’est que (pardón) it is only _hocus pocus_, to keep off witch,
súppose. You must know ces articles can nevare be sold, of course you
see dey cannot be buy. So my friend here, Monsieur Cataline, who have
collect all de curiosités des pays sauvages, avait made strong applique
to me pour for to get one of dese _medicine-bags_ for his Collection
curieux, et I had, pour moimeme, le curiosité extreme pour for to see
des quelques choses ces étranges looking tings was composi.
I had learn much of dese strange custom, and I know wen de Ingin die,
his _medicine-bags_ is buried wis him.
Oui, Monsieur, so it never can be got by any boday. Bien. I hap to tink
one day wen we was live in de mous of Yellow Stone, now is time, and I
avait said to Monsieur Cataline, que pensez vous? _Kon-te-wonda_ (un
des chefs du) (pardón, one of de chiefs, of de Knisteneaux) has die
tó-day. Il ayait une _medicine-bag_ magnifique, et extremement curieux;
il est composé d’un, it is made (pardón, si vous plait) of de wite wolf
skin, ornement et stuff wid tousand tings wich we shall see, ha? Good
luck! Suppose Monsieur Cataline, I have seen him just now. I av see de
_medicine-bag_; laid on his breast avec his hands crossed ovare it. Que
pensez vous? I can get him to-night, ha? If you will keep him, if you
shall not tell, ha? ’Tis no harm—’tis no steal—he is dead, ha? Well,
you shall _see_. But, would you not be afraid, Ba’tiste, (said Monsieur
Cataline), to take from dis poor fellow his medicines (or mysteries)
on which he has rest all his hopes in dis world, and de world to come?
Pardón, je n’ai pas peur; non, Monsieur, ne rien de peur. I nevare saw
ghost—I have not fear, mais, súppose, it is not right, éxact; but I
have grand disposition pour for to obligé my friend, et le curiosité
moimeme, pour to see wat it is made of; suppose tó-night I shall go,
ha? ‘Well, Ba’tiste, I have no objection (said Monsieur Cataline) if
your heart does not fail you, for I will be very glads to get him,
and will make you a handsome present for it, but I think it will be
a cold and gloomy kind of business.’ Nevare mind, Monsieur Cataline
(I said) provide he is well dead, _perfect dead_! Well, I had see les
Knisteneaux when dey ave bury de chap—I ave watch close, and I ave
see how de medicine-bags was put. It was fix pretty tight by some
cord around his bellay, and den some skins was wrap many times áround
him—he was put down in de hole dug for him, and some flat stones and
some little dirt was laid on him, only till next day, wen some grand
ceremonays was to be pérform ovare him, and den de hole was to be fill
up; now was de only time possibe for de _medicine-bag_, ha? I ave very
pretty little wife at dat times, Assinneboin squaw, and we sleep in one
of de stores inside of de Fort, de Trade-house, you know, ha?
“So you may súppose I was all de day perplex to know how I should go,
somebody may watch—súppose, he may not be dead! not quite dead, ha?
nevare mind—le jour was bien long, et le nuit dismal, _dismal_! oh by
gar _it was dismal_! plien, plien (pardon) full of apprehension, mais
sans _peur_, je _navais pas peur_! So some time aftere midnights, wen
it was bout right time pour go, I made start, very light, so my wife
must not wake. Oh diable l’imagination! quel solitude! well, I have go
very well yet, I am pass de door, and I am pass de gate, and I am at
lengts arrive at de grave! súppose ‘now Ba’tiste, courage, courage!
now is de times come.’ Well, suppose, I am not fraid of _dead man_,
mais, perhaps, dese _medicine-bag_ is give by de Grande Esprit to de
Ingin for someting? possibe! I will let him keep it. I shall go back!
No, Monsieur Cataline will laughs at me. I must have him, ma foi,
mon courage! so I climb down very careful into de grave, mais, as I
déscend, my heart rise up into my mouse! Oh mon Dieu! courage Ba’tiste,
courage! ce n’est pas _l’homme_ dat I fear, mais le _medicine_, le
_medicine_. So den I ave lift out de large stones, I ave put out my
head in de dark, and I ave look all de contré round; ne personne, ne
personne—no bodé in sight! Well, I ave got softly down on my knees
ovare him, (oh, courage! courage! oui) and wen I ave unwrap de robe,
I av all de time say, ‘pardon, courage! pardon, courage! untill I ad
got de skins all off de bodé; I ave den take hold of de cord to untie,
mais!! (dans l’instant) two cold hands seize me by de wrists! and I was
just dead—I was petrifact in one instant. Oh St. Esprit! I could just
see in de dark two eyes glaring like fire sur upon me! and den, (oh,
eugh!) it spoke to me, ‘Who are you?’ (Sacré, vengeance! it will not
do to deceive him, no,) ‘I am Ba’tiste, _poor_ Ba’tiste!’ ‘Then thou
art surely mine, (as he clenched both arms tight around my boday) lie
still Ba’tiste.’ Oh, holy Vierge! St. Esprit! O mon Dieu! I could not
breathe! miserable! je sui perdu! oh pourquoi have I been such fool
to get into dese cold, cold arms! ‘Ba’tiste? (drawing me some tighter
and tighter!) do you not belong to me, Ba’tiste?’ Yes, súppose! oh
diable! belong? Oui, oui, je suis certainment perdu, lost, lost, for
evare! _Oh! can you not possibe let me go?_ ‘No, Ba’tiste, we must
never part.’ Grand Dieu! c’est finis, finis, finis avec moi! “Then you
do not love me any more, Ba’tiste?” Quel! quoi! what!! est ce vous,
_Wee-ne-on-ka_? ‘Yes, Ba’tiste, it is the _Bending Willow_ who holds
you, she that loves you and will not let you go? Are you dreaming
Ba’tiste?’ Oui, diable, ————!”
“Well, Ba’tiste, that’s a very good story, and very well told; I
presume you never tried again to get a medicine-bag?”
“Non, Monsieur Bogard, je vous assure, I was satisfy wis de mistakes
dat night, pour for je crois qu’il fut l’Esprit, le Grand Esprit.”
After this, my entertaining companions sung several amusing songs, and
then called upon me for another story. Which Mr. Wood had already heard
me tell several times, and which he particularly called for; as
“THE STORY OF THE DOG,”
and which I began as follows:—
“Well, some time ago, when I was drifting down the mighty Missouri, in
a little canoe, with two hired men, Bogard and Ba’tiste, (and in this
manner _did_ we glide along) amid all the pretty scenes and ugly, that
decked the banks of that river, from the mouth of the Yellow Stone, to
St. Louis, a distance of _only_ two thousand miles; Bogard and Ba’tiste
plied their paddles and I _steered_, amid snag and sand-bar—amongst
drift logs and herds of swimming buffaloes—our beds were uniformly on
the grass, or upon some barren beach, which we often chose, to avoid
the suffocating clouds of musquitoes; our fire was (by the way we had
none at night) kindled at sundown, under some towering bluff—our supper
cooked and eaten, and we off again, floating some four or five miles
after nightfall, when our canoe was landed at random, on some unknown
shore. In whispering silence and darkness our buffalo robes were drawn
out and spread upon the grass, and our bodies stretched upon them; our
pistols were belted to our sides, and our rifles always slept in our
arms. In this way we were encamped, and another robe drawn over us,
head and foot, under which our iron slumbers were secure from the tread
of all foes saving that of the sneaking gangs of wolves, who were
nightly serenading us with their harmonics, and often quarrelling for
the privilege of chewing off the corners of the robe, which served us
as a blanket. ‘Caleb’ (the grizzly bear) was often there too, leaving
the print of his deep impressed footsteps where he had perambulated,
reconnoitring, though not disturbing us. Our food was simply buffalo
meat from day to day, and from morning till night, for coffee and bread
we had not. The fleece (hump) of a fat cow, was the luxury of luxuries;
and for it we would step ashore, or as often level our rifles upon the
‘slickest’ of the herds from our canoe, as they were grazing upon the
banks. Sometimes the antelope, the mountain-sheep, and so the stately
elk contributed the choicest cuts for our little larder; and at others,
while in the vicinity of war-parties, where we dared not to fire our
guns, our boat, was silently steered into some little cove or eddy, our
hook and line dipped, and we trusted to the bite of a catfish for our
suppers: if we got him, he was sometimes too large and tough; and if we
got him not, we would swear, (not at all) and go to bed.
“Our meals were generally cooked and eaten on piles of driftwood, where
our fire was easily kindled, and a peeled log (which we generally
straddled) did admirably well for a seat, and a table to eat from.
“In this manner did we glide away from day to day, with anecdote and
fun to shorten the time, and just enough of the _spice of danger_ to
give vigour to our stomachs, and keenness to our appetites—making and
meeting accident and incident sufficient for a ‘book.’ Two hundred
miles from the mouth of Yellow Stone brought us to the village of the
kind and gentlemanly Mandans. With them I lived for some time—was
welcomed—taken gracefully by the arm, by their plumed dignitaries,
and feasted in their hospitable lodges. Much have I already said of
these people, and more of them, a great deal, I may say at a future
day; but now, to our ‘_story_.’ As _preamble_, however, having
launched our light canoe at the Mandan village, shook hands with the
chiefs and braves, and took the everlasting farewell glance at those
_models_, which I wept to turn from; we dipped our paddles, and were
again gliding off upon the mighty water, on our way to St. Louis. We
travelled fast, and just as the village of the Mandans, and the bold
promontory on which it stands, were changing to blue, and ‘dwindling
into nothing,’ we heard the startling yells, and saw in distance behind
us, the troop that was gaining upon us! their red shoulders were
bounding over the grassy bluffs—their hands extended, and robes waving
with signals for us to stop! In a few moments they were opposite to us
on the bank, and I steered my boat to the shore. They were arranged for
my reception, with amazement and orders imperative stamped on every
brow. ‘Mi-neek-e-sunk-te-ka’ (the mink), they exclaimed, ‘is dying!
the picture which you made of her is too much like her—you put so much
of her into it, that when your boat took it away from our village, it
drew a part of her life away with it—she is bleeding from her mouth—she
is puking up all her blood; by taking that away, you are drawing the
strings out of her heart, and they will soon break; we must take her
picture back, and then she will get well—your _medicine_ is great, it
is too great; but we wish you well.’ Mr. Kipp, their Trader, came with
the party, and interpreted as above. I unrolled my bundle of portraits,
and though I was unwilling to part with it (for she was a beautiful
girl), yet I placed it in their hands, telling them that I wished her
well; and I was exceedingly glad to get my boat peaceably under way
again, and into the current, having taken another and everlasting shake
of the hands. They rode back at full speed with the portrait; but
intelligence which I have since received from there, informs me that
the girl died; and that I am for ever to be considered as the cause of
her misfortunes. This is not _the_ ‘_story_,’ however, but I will tell
it as soon as I can come to it. We dropped off, and down the rolling
current again, from day to day, until at length the curling smoke of
the Riccarees announced their village in view before us!
“We trembled and quaked, for all boats not stoutly armed, steal by them
in the dead of night. We muffled our paddles, and instantly dropped
under some willows, where we listened to the yelping, barking rabble,
until sable night had drawn her curtain around (though it was not
_sable_, for the moon arose, to our great mortification and alarm, in
full splendour and brightness), when, at eleven o’clock, we put out
to the middle of the stream—silenced our paddles, and trusted to the
current to waft us by them. We lay close in our boat with a pile of
green bushes over us, making us nothing in the world but a ‘floating
tree-top.’ On the bank, in front of the village, was enacting at
that moment, a scene of the most frightful and thrilling nature. An
hundred torches were swung about in all directions, giving us a full
view of the group that were assembled, and some fresh scalps were hung
on poles, and were then going through the nightly ceremony that is
performed about them for a certain number of nights, composed of the
frightful and appalling shrieks, and yells, and gesticulations of the
_scalp-dance_.[31]
“In addition to this multitude of demons (as they looked), there
were some hundreds of cackling women and girls bathing in the river
on the edge of a sand-bar, at the lower end of the village; at which
place the stream drifted our small craft in, close to the shore,
till the moon lit their shoulders, their foreheads, chins, noses!
and they stood, half-merged, like mermaids, and gazed upon us!
singing ‘_Chee-na-see-nun, chee-na-see-nun ke-mon-shoo kee-ne-he-na,
ha-way-tah? shee-sha, shee-sha_;’ ‘How do you do, how do you do? where
are you going, old tree? Come here, come here.’ ‘_Lah-kee-hoon! lali
kee-hoon! natoh, catogh!_’ (‘A canoe, a canoe! see the paddle!!’) In
a moment the songs were stopped! the lights were out—the village in
an instant was in darkness, and dogs were muzzled! and nimbly did our
paddles ply the water, till spy-glass told us at morning’s dawn, that
the bank and boundless prairies of grass and green that were all around
us, were free from following footsteps of friend or foe. A sleepless
night had passed, and lightly tripped our bark, and swift, over the
swimming tide during _that_ day; which was one, not of pleasure, but
of trembling excitement; while our eyes were continually scanning the
distant scenes that were behind us, and our muscles throwing us forward
with tireless energy. * * * * * * * * * Night came upon us again, and
we landed at the foot of a towering bluff, where the musquitoes met us
with ten thousand kicks and cuffs, and importunities, until we were
choked and strangled into almost irrevocable despair and madness.[32]
“A ‘_snaggy bend_’ announced its vicinity just below us by its roaring;
and hovering night told us, that we could not with safety ‘undertake
it.’
“The only direful alternative was now in full possession of us, (I am
not going to tell the ‘_story_’ _yet_), for just below us was a stately
bluff of 200 feet in height, rising out of the water, at an angle of
forty-five degrees, entirely denuded in front, and constituted of clay.
‘Montons, montons!’ said Ba’tiste, as he hastily clambered up its
steep inclined plane on his hands and feet, over its parched surface,
which had been dried in the sun, ‘essayez vous, essayez! ce’n’est pas
difficile Monsr. Cataline,’ exclaimed he, from an elevation of about
100 feet from the water, where he had found a level platform, of some
ten or fifteen feet in diameter, and stood at its brink, waving his
hand over the twilight landscape that lay in partial obscurity beneath
him.
“‘Nous avons ici une belle place pour for to get some _slips_, some
_coot slips_, vare de dam Riccaree et de dam muskeet shall nevare get
si haut, by Gar! montez, montez en haut.’
“Bogard and I took our buffalo robes and our rifles, and with
difficulty hung and clung along in the crevices with fingers and
toes, until we reached the spot. We found ourselves about half-way
up the precipice, which continued almost perpendicular above us; and
within a few yards of us, on each side, it was one unbroken slope
from the bottom to the top. In this snug little nook were we most
appropriately fixed, as we thought, for a warm summer’s night, out of
the reach entirely of musquitoes, and all other earthly obstacles, as
we supposed, to the approaching gratification, for which the toils and
fatigues of the preceding day and night, had so admirably prepared
us. We spread one of our robes, and having ranged ourselves side by
side upon it, and drawn the other one over us, we commenced, without
further delay, upon the pleasurable forgetfulness of toils and dangers
which had agitated us for the past day and night. We had got just
about to that stage of our enjoyment which is almost resistless, and
nearly bidding defiance to every worldly obstrusive obstacle, when the
pattering of rain on our buffalo robes opened our eyes to the dismal
scene that was getting up about us! _My_ head was out, and on the
watch; but the other two skulls were flat upon the ground, and there
chained by the unyielding links of iron slumber. The blackest of all
clouds that ever swept hill tops of grass, of clay, or towering rock,
was hanging about us—its lightning’s glare was incessantly flashing us
to blindness; and the giddy elevation on which we were perched, seemed
to tremble with the roar and jar of distant, and the instant bolts
and cracks of present thunder! The rain poured and fell in torrents
(its not enough); it seemed _floating_ around and above us in waves
succeeding waves, which burst upon the sides of the immense avalanche
of clay that was above, and _slid_ in _sheets_, upon us! Heavens! what
a scene was here. The river beneath us and in distance, with windings
infinite, whitening into silver, and trees, to deathlike paleness, at
the lightning’s flash! All about us was drenched in rain and mud. At
this juncture, poor Ba’tiste was making an effort to raise his head and
shoulders—he was in agony! he had slept himself, and _slipt_ himself
partly from the robe, and his elbows were fastened in the mud.
“‘Oh sacré, ’tis too bad by Gar! we can get some _slips_ nevare.’
“‘Ugh! (replied Yankee Bogard) we shall get ‘slips’ enough directly, by
darn, for we are all afloat, and shall go into the river by and by, in
the twinkling of a goat’s eye, if we don’t look out.’
“We were nearly afloat, sure enough, and our condition growing more
and more dreary every moment, and our only alternative was, to fold up
our nether robe and sit upon it; hanging the other one over our heads,
which formed a roof, and shielded the rain from us. To give compactness
to the _trio_, and bring us into such shape as would enable the robe to
protect us all, we were obliged to put our backs and occiputs together,
and keep our heads from nodding. In this way we were enabled to divide
equally the robe that we sat upon, as well as receive mutual benefit
from the one that was above us. We thus managed to protect ourselves in
the most important points, leaving our feet and legs (from necessity)
to the mercy of mud.
“Thus we were re-encamped. ‘A pretty mess’ (said I), we look like
the ‘three graces;’—‘de tree grace, by Gar!’ said Ba’tiste. ‘Grace!
(whispered Bogard) yes, it’s all _grace_ here; and I believe we’ll all
be buried in _grace_ in less than an hour.’
“‘Monsr. Cataline! excusez my back, si vous plait. Bogard! comment,
comment?—bonne nuit, Messieurs. Oh! mon Dieu, mon Dieu! Je vous rends
grace—je vous prie pour for me sauver ce nuit—delivrez nous! delivrez
nous! Je vous adore, Saint Esprit—la Vierge Marie—oh je vous rends
grace! pour for de m’avoir conservé from de dam Riccree et de diable
muskeet. Eh bien! eh bien!’
“In this miserable and despairing mood poor Ba’tiste dropped off
gradually into a most tremendous sleep, whilst Bogard and I were
holding on to our corners of the robe—recounting over the dangers and
excitements of the day and night past, as well as other scenes of
our adventurous lives, whilst we laid (or rather sat) looking at the
lightning, with our eyes shut. Ba’tiste snored louder and louder, until
sleep had got her strongest grip upon him; and his specific gravity
became so great, that he pitched forward, pulling our corners of the
robe nearly off from our heads, reducing us to the necessity of drawing
upon them till we brought the back of his head in contact with ours,
again, and his body in an erect posture, when he suddenly exclaimed.
“‘Bon jour, Monsr. Bogard: bon jour, Monsr. Cataline; n’est ce pas
morning, pretty near?’
“‘No, its about midnight.’
“‘Quel temps?’
“Why it rains as hard as ever.
“‘Oh diable, I wish I was _tó hell_.’
“‘You may be there yet before morning, by darn.’
“‘Pardón! pardón, Monsr Bogard—I shall not go to night, not _to_ night,
I was joke—mais! dis is not joke, sùppose—oh vengeance! I am slip down
considerable—mais I shall not go to hell quite—I am slip off de seat!’
“‘What! you are sitting in the mud?’
“‘Oui, Bogard, in de muds! mais, I am content, my _head_ is not in
de mud. You see Bogard, I avait been sleep, et I raisee my head
pretty suddain, and keepee my e back e straight, et I am slip off
of de seat. Now, Monsr. Bogard you shall keepee you head straight
and moove————————leet, at de bottom?————————remercie, Bogard,
remercie,————eh bien,——————ah well——————————ha—ha—h——a—by Gar, Bogard,
I have a de good joke. Monsr. Cataline will paintez my likeeness as
I am now look—he will paint us all—I am tink he will make putty coot
view? ha-ha-ha-a——we should see very putty landeescape aboutee de legs,
ha? Ha——ha——h————a——a.’
“Oh, Ba’tiste, for Heaven’s sake stop your laughing and go to sleep;
we’ll talk and laugh about this all day to-morrow.
“‘Pardón, Monsr. Cataline, (excusez) have you got some slips?’
“No, Ba’tiste, I have not been asleep. Bogard has been entertaining me
these two hours whilst you was asleep, with a description of a buffalo
hunt, which took place at the mouth of Yellow Stone, about a year ago.
It must have been altogether a most splendid and thrilling scene, and I
have been paying the strictest attention to it, for I intend to write
it down and send it to New York for the cits to read.”
“‘I like’e dat much, Monsr. Cataline, and I shall take much plaisir
pout vous donner to give déscript of someting, provide you will write
him down, ha?’
“Well Ba’tiste, go on, I am endeavouring to learn everything that’s
curious and entertaining, belonging to this country.
“‘Well Monsr. Cataline, I shall tell you someting very much entertain,
mais, but, you will nevare tell somebody how we have been fix to night?
ha?’
“No, Ba’tiste, most assuredly I shall never mention it nor make
painting of it.
“‘Well, je commence,—diable Bogard! you shall keep your back straight
you must sit up, ou il n’est pas possibe for to keep de robe ovare
all. Je commence, Mons. Cataline, to describe some _Dog Feast_, which
I attend among de dam Pieds noirs. I shall describe some grande,
magnifique ceremonay, and you will write him down?’
“Yes, I’ll put it on paper.
“‘Pardón, pardón, I am get most to slip, I shall tell him to-morrow,
pérhaps I shall————eh bien;—but you will nevare tell how we look, ha!
Monsr. Cataline?’
“No Ba’tiste, I’ll never mention it.
“‘Eh bien————bon nuit.’
“In this condition we sat, and in this manner we nodded away the night,
as far as I recollect of it, catching the broken bits of sleep, (that
were even painful to us when we got them), until the morning’s rays
at length gave us a view of the scene that was around us!! Oh, all ye
brick-makers, ye plasterers, and soft-soap manufacturers! put all your
imaginations in a ferment together, and see if ye can invent a scene
like this! Here _was_ a ‘fix’ to be sure. The sun arose in splendour
and in full, upon this everlasting and boundless scene of ‘_saft
soap_’ and grease, which admitted us not to move. The whole hill was
constituted entirely of tough clay, and on each side and above us there
was no possibility of escape; and one single step over the brink of the
place where we had ascended, would inevitably have launched us into
the river below, the distance of an hundred feet! Here, looking like
hogs just risen from a mud puddle, or a buffalo bull in his wallow,
we sat, (_and had to sit_,) admiring the wide-spread and beautiful
landscape that lay steeping and smoking before us, and our little boat,
that looked like a nutshell beneath us, hanging at the shore; telling
stories and filling up the while with nonsensical garrulity, until
the sun’s warming rays had licked up the mud, and its dried surface,
about eleven o’clock, gave us foothold, when we cautiously, but safely
descended to the bottom; and then, at the last jump, which brought his
feet to _terra firma_, Ba’tiste exclaimed, ‘Well, we have cheatee de
dam muskeet, ha!’”
And this, reader, is not ‘_the story_,’ but one of the little incidents
which stood exactly in the way, and could not well be got over without
a slight notice, being absolutely necessary, as a key, or kind of
glossary, for the proper understanding of the tale that is to be told.
There is _blood_ and _butchery_ in the story that is now to be related;
and it should be read by every one who would form a correct notion of
the force of Indian superstitions.
Three mighty warriors, proud and valiant, licked the dust, and all in
consequence of one of the portraits I painted; and as my brush was the
prime mover of all these misfortunes, and my life was sought to heal
the wound, I must be supposed to be knowing to and familiar with the
whole circumstances, which were as—(I was going to say, as follow) but
my want of time and your want of patience, compel me to break off here,
and I promise to go right on with _the story of the Dog_ in my next
Letter, and I advise the reader not to neglect or overlook it.
[23] This very distinguished old chief, I have learned, died a few
weeks after I painted his portrait.
[24] The reader and traveller who may have this book with him,
should follow the Côteau a few miles to the North of the Quarry,
for the highest elevation and greatest sublimity of view.
[25] I have in former epistles, several times spoken of the red
pipes of the Indians which are found in almost every tribe of
Indians on the Continent; and in every instance have, I venture
to say, been brought from the Côteau des Prairies, inasmuch as no
tribe of Indians that I have yet visited, have ever apprized me
of any other source than this; and the stone from which they are
all manufactured, is of the same character exactly, and different
from any known mineral compound ever yet discovered in any part
of Europe, or other parts of the American Continent. This may be
thought a broad assertion—yet it is one I have ventured to make
(and one I should have had no motive for making, except for the
purpose of eliciting information, if there be any, on a subject
so curious and so exceedingly interesting). In my +Indian Museum+
there can always be seen a great many beautiful specimens of this
mineral selected on the spot, by myself, embracing all of its
numerous varieties; and I challenge the world to produce anything
like it, except it be from the same locality. In a following Letter
will be found a further account of it, and its chemical analysis.
[26] I am aware that this interesting fact may be opposed by
subsequent travellers, who will find nobody but the Sioux upon
this ground, who now claim exclusive right to it; and for the
satisfaction of those who doubt, I refer them to Lewis and Clark’s
Tour thirty-three years since, before the influence of Traders
had deranged the system and truth of things, in these regions. I
have often conversed with General Clark, of St. Louis, on this
subject, and he told me explicitly, and authorized me to say it to
the world, that every tribe on the Missouri told him they had been
to this place, and that the Great Spirit kept the peace amongst
his red children on that ground, where they had smoked with their
enemies.
[27] The medicine (or leaping) rock is a part of the precipice
which has become severed from the main part, standing about seven
or eight feet from the wall, just equal in height, and about seven
feet in diameter.
It stands like an immense column of thirty-five feet high, and
highly polished on its top and sides. It requires a daring effort
to leap on to its top from the main wall, and back again, and many
a heart has sighed for the honour of the feat without daring to
make the attempt. Some few have tried it with success, and left
their arrows standing in its crevice, several of which are seen
there at this time; others have leapt the chasm and fallen from
the slippery surface on which they could not hold, and suffered
instant death upon the craggy rocks below. Every young man in
the nation is ambitious to perform this feat; and those who have
successfully done it are allowed to boast of it all their lives.
In the sketch already exhibited, there will be seen, a view of the
“leaping rock;” and in the middle of the picture, a mound, of a
conical form, of ten feet height, which was erected over the body
of a distinguished young man who was killed by making this daring
effort, about two years before I was there, and whose sad fate was
related to me by a Sioux chief, who was father of the young man,
and was visiting the Red Pipe Stone Quarry, with thirty others of
his tribe, when we were there, and cried over the grave, as he
related the story to Mr. Wood and myself, of his son’s death.
[28] On my return from the Pipe Stone Quarry, one of the old chiefs
of the Sacs, on seeing some specimens of the stone which I brought
with me from that place, observed as follows:—
“My friend, when I was young, I used to go with our young men to
the mountain of the Red Pipe, and dig out pieces for our pipes.
We do not go now; and our red pipes as you see, are few. The
Dah-co-tah’s have spilled the blood of red men on that place, and
the Great Spirit is offended. The white traders have told them to
draw their bows upon us when we go there; and they have offered us
many of the pipes for sale, but we do not want to smoke them, for
we know that the Great Spirit is offended. My mark is on the rocks
in many places, but I shall never see them again. They lie where
the Great Spirit sees them, for his eye is over that place, and he
sees everything that is here.”
Ke-o-kuck chief of the Sacs and Foxes, when I asked him whether he
had ever been there, replied—
“No, I have never seen it; it is in our enemies’ country,—I wish it
was in ours—I would sell it to the whites for a great many boxes of
money.”
[29] Many and strong are the recollections of the Sioux and
other tribes, of their alliance with the British in the last and
revolutionary wars, of which I have met many curious instances,
one of which was correctly reported in the London Globe, from my
Lectures, and I here insert it.—