At the beginning of the fall, a few months after my father's death, I
and my two comrades, Gabriel and Roche, were hunting in the rolling
prairies of the South, on the eastern shores of the Buona Ventura. One
evening we were in high spirits, having had good sport. My two friends
had entered upon a theme which they could never exhaust; one pleasantly
narrating the wonders and sights of Paris, the other describing with his
true native eloquence the beauties of his country, and repeating the old
local Irish legends, which appeared to me quaint and highly poetical.
Of a sudden we were surrounded by a party of sixty Arrapahoes; of
course, resistance or flight was useless. Our captors, however, treated
us with honour, contenting themselves with watching us closely and
preventing our escape. They knew who we were, and, though my horse,
saddle, and rifle were in themselves a booty for any chief, nothing was
taken from us. I addressed the chief, whom I knew:
"What have I done to the Morning Star of the Arrapahoes, that I should
be taken and watched like a sheep of the Watchinangoes?"
The chief smiled and put his hand upon my shoulders. "The Arrapahoes,"
said he, "love the young Owato Wanisha and his pale-faced brothers, for
they are great warriors, and can beat their enemies with beautiful blue
fires from the heavens. The Arrapahoes know all; they area wise people.
They will take Owato Wanisha to their own tribe, that he may show his
skill to them, and make them warriors. He shall be fed with the fittest
and sweetest dogs. He will become a great warrior among the Arrapahoes.
So wish our prophets. I obey the will of the prophets and of the
nation."
"But," answered I, "my Manitou will not hear me if I am a slave. The
Pale-face Manitou has ears only for free warriors. He will not lend me
his fires unless space and time be my own."
The chief interrupted me:--"Owato Wanisha is not a slave, nor can he be
one. He is with his good friends, who will watch over him, light his
fire, spread their finest blankets in his tent, and fill it with the
best game of the prairie. His friends love the young chief, but he must
not escape from them, else the evil spirit would make the young
Arrapahoes drunk as a beastly Crow, and excite them in their folly to
kill the Pale-faces."
As nothing could be attempted for the present, we submitted to our fate,
and were conducted by a long and dreary journey to the eastern shores of
the Rio Colorado of the West, until at last we arrived at one of the
numerous and beautiful villages of the Arrapahoes. There we passed the
winter in a kind of honourable captivity. An attempt to escape would
have been the signal of our death, or, at least, of a harsh captivity.
We were surrounded by vast sandy deserts, inhabited by the Clubs
(Piuses), a cruel race of people, some of them cannibals. Indeed, I may
as well here observe that most of the tribes inhabiting the Colorado are
men-eaters, even including the Arrapahoes, on certain occasions. Once
we fell in with a deserted camp of Club-men, and there we found the
remains of about twenty bodies, the bones of which had been picked with
apparently as much relish as the wings of a pheasant would have been by
a European epicure. This winter passed gloomily enough, and no wonder.
Except a few beautiful groves, found here and there, like the oases in
the sands of the Sahara, the whole country is horribly broken and
barren. Forty miles above the Gulf of California, the Colorado ceases
to be navigable, and presents from its sources, for seven hundred miles,
nothing but an uninterrupted series of noisy and tremendous cataracts,
bordered on each side by a chain of perpendicular rocks, five or six
hundred feet high, while the country all around seems to have been
shaken to its very centre by violent volcanic eruptions.
Winter at length passed away, and with the first weeks of spring were
renovated our hopes of escape. The Arrapahoes, relenting in their
vigilance, went so far as to offer us to accompany them in an expedition
eastward. To this, of course, we agreed, and entered very willingly
upon the beautiful prairies of North Sonora. Fortune favoured us; one
day, the Arrapahoes having followed a trail of Apaches and Mexicans,
with an intent to surprise and destroy them, fell themselves into a
snare, in which they were routed, and many perished.
We made no scruples of deserting our late masters, and, spurring our
gallant steeds, we soon found that our unconscious liberators were a
party of officers bound from Monterey or Santa Fe, escorted by
two-and-twenty Apaches and some twelve or fifteen families of Ciboleros.
I knew the officers, and was very glad to have intelligence from
California. Isabella was as bright as ever, but not quite so
light-hearted. Padre Marini, the missionary, had embarked for Peru, and
the whole city of Monterey was still laughing, dancing, singing, and
love-making, just as I had left them.
The officers easily persuaded me to accompany them to Santa Fe, from
whence I could readily return to Monterey with the next caravan.
A word concerning the Ciboleros may not be uninteresting. Every year,
large parties of Mexicans, some with mules, others with ox-carts, drive
out into these prairies to procure for their families a season's supply
of buffalo beef. They hunt chiefly on horseback, with bow and arrow, or
lance, and sometimes the fusil, whereby they soon load their carts and
mules. They find no difficulty in curing their meat even in mid-summer,
by slicing it thin, and spreading or suspending it in the sun; or, if in
haste, it is slightly barbecued. During the curing operation, they
often follow the Indian practice of beating the slices of meat with
their feet, which they say contributes to its preservation.
Here the extraordinary purity of the atmosphere of these regions is
remarkably exemplified. A line is stretched from corner to corner along
the side of the waggon body, and strung with slices of beef, which
remain from day to day till they are sufficiently cured to be packed up.
This is done without salt, and yet the meat rarely putrefies.
The optic deception of the rarefied and transparent atmosphere of these
elevated plains is truly remarkable. One might almost fancy oneself
looking through a spy-glass; for objects often appear at scarce
one-fourth of their real distance--frequently much magnified, and more
especially much elevated. I have often seen flocks of antelopes
mistaken for droves of elks or wild horses, and when at a great
distance, even for horsemen; whereby frequent alarms are occasioned. A
herd of buffaloes upon a distant plain often appear so elevated in
height, that they would be mistaken by the inexperienced for a large
grove of trees.
But the most curious, and at the same time the most tormenting
phenomenon occasioned by optical deception, is the "mirage," or, as
commonly called by the Mexican travellers, "the lying waters." Even the
experienced prairie hunter is often deceived by these, upon the arid
plains, where the pool of water is in such request. The thirsty
wayfarer, after jogging for hours under a burning sky, at length espies
a pond--yes, it must be water--it looks too natural for him to be
mistaken. He quickens his pace, enjoying in anticipation the pleasures
of a refreshing draught; but, as he approaches, it recedes or entirely
disappears; and standing upon its apparent site, he is ready to doubt
his own vision, when he finds but a parched sand under his feet. It is
not until he has been thus a dozen times deceived, that he is willing to
relinquish the pursuit, and then, perhaps, when he really does see a
pond, he will pass it unexamined, from fear of another disappointment.
The philosophy of these false ponds I have never seen satisfactorily
explained. They have usually been attributed to a refraction, by which
a section of the bordering sky is thrown below the horizon; but I am
convinced that they are the effect of reflection. It seems that a gas
(emanating probably from the heated earth and its vegetable matter)
floats upon the elevated flats, and is of sufficient density, when
viewed obliquely, to reflect the objects beyond it; thus the opposing
sky being reflected in the pond of gas, gives the appearance of water.
As a proof that it is the effect of reflection, I have often observed
the distant knolls and trees which were situated near the horizon beyond
the mirage, distinctly inverted in the "pond." Now, were the mirage the
result of refraction, these would appear on it erect, only cast below
the surface. Many are the singular atmospheric phenomena observable
upon the plains and they would afford a field of interesting researches
for the curious natural philosopher.
We had a pleasant journey, although sometimes pressed pretty hard by
hunger. However, Gabriel, Roche, and I were too happy to complain. We
had just escaped from a bitter and long slavery, beside which, we were
heartily tired of the lean and tough dogs of the Arrapahoes, which are
the only food of that tribe during the winter. The Apaches, who had
heard of our exploits, shewed us great respect; but what still more
captivated their good graces, was the Irishman's skill in playing the
fiddle. It so happened that a Mexican officer having, during the last
fall, been recalled from Monterey to Santa Fe, had left his violin. It
was a very fine instrument, an old Italian piece of workmanship, and
worth, I am convinced, a great deal of money.
At the request of the owner, one of the present officers had taken
charge of the violin and packed it up, together with his trunks, in one
of the Cibolero's waggons. We soon became aware of the circumstance,
and when we could not get anything to eat, music became our consolation.
Tired as we were, we would all of us, "at least the Pale-faces," dance
merrily for hours together, after we had halted, till poor Roche,
exhausted, could no longer move his fingers.
We were at last relieved of our obligatory fast, and enabled to look
with contempt upon the humble prickly pears, which for many a long day
had been our only food. Daily now we came across herds of fat
buffaloes, and great was our sport in pursuing the huge lord of the
prairies. One of them, by the bye, gored my horse to death, and I would
likely have put an end to my adventures, had it not been for the certain
aim of Gabriel. I had foolishly substituted my bow and arrows for the
rifle, that I might show my skill to my companions. My vanity cost me
dear; for though the bull was a fine one, and had seven arrows driven
through his neck, I lost one of the best horses of the West, and my
right leg was considerably hurt.
Having been informed that there was a large city or commonwealth of
prairie dogs directly in our route, I started on ahead with my two
companions, to visit these republicans. We had a double object in view:
first, a desire to examine one of the republics about which prairie
travellers have said so much; and, secondly, to obtain something to eat,
as the flesh of these animals was said to be excellent.
Our road for six or seven miles wound up the sides of a gently ascending
mountain. On arriving at the summit, we found a beautiful table-land
spread out, reaching for miles in every direction before us. The soil
appeared to be uncommonly rich, and was covered with a luxurious growth
of musqueet trees. The grass was of the curly musquito species, the
sweetest and most nutritious of all the different kinds of that grass,
and the dogs never locate their towns or cities except where it grows in
abundance, as it is their only food.
We had proceeded but a short distance after reaching this beautiful
prairie, before we came upon the outskirts of the commonwealth. A few
scattered dogs were seen scampering in, and, by their short and sharp
yelps, giving a general alarm to the whole community.
The first cry of danger from the outskirts was soon taken up in the
centre of the city, and now nothing was to be seen in any direction but
a dashing and scampering of the mercurial and excitable citizens of the
place, each to his lodge or burrow. Far as the eye could reach was
spread the city, and in every direction the scene was the same. We rode
leisurely along until we had reached the more thickly settled portion of
the city, when we halted, and after taking the bridles from our horses
to allow them to graze, we prepared for a regular attack upon its
inhabitants.
The burrows were not more than fifteen yards apart, with well-trodden
paths leading in different directions, and I even thought I could
discover something like regularity in the laying out of the streets. We
sat down upon a bank under the shade of a musqueet tree, and leisurely
surveyed the scene before us. Our approach had driven every one in our
immediate vicinity to his home, but some hundred yards off, the small
mound of earth in front of a burrow was each occupied by a dog sitting I
straight up on his hinder legs, and coolly looking about him to
ascertain the cause of the recent commotion. Every now and then some
citizen, more venturous than his neighbour, would leave his lodge on a
flying visit to a companion, apparently to exchange a few words, and
then scamper back as fast as his legs would carry him.
By-and-by, as we kept perfectly still, some of our nearer neighbours
were seen cautiously poking their heads from out their holes and looking
cunningly, and at the same time inquisitively, about them. After some
time, a dog would emerge from the entrance of his domicile, squat upon
his looking-out place, shake his head, and commence yelping.
For three hours we remained watching the movements of these animals, and
occasionally picking one of them off with our rifles. No less than nine
were obtained by the party. One circumstance I will mention as singular
in the extreme, and which shows the social relationship which exists
among these animals, as well as the regard they have one for another.
One of them had perched himself directly upon the pile of earth in front
of his hole, sitting up, and offering a fair mark, while a companion's
head, too timid, perhaps, to expose himself farther; was seen poking out
of the entrance. A well-directed shot carried away the entire top of
the head of the first dog, and knocked him some two or three feet from
his post, perfectly dead. While reloading, the other daringly came out,
seized his companion by one of his legs, and before we could arrive at
the hole, had drawn him completely out of reach, although we tried to
twist him out with a ramrod.
There was a feeling in this act--a something human, which raised the
animals in my estimation; and never after did I attempt to kill one of
them, except when driven by extreme hunger.
The prairie dog is about the size of a rabbit, heavier perhaps, more
compact, and with much shorter legs. In appearance, it resembles the
ground-hog of the north, although a trifle smaller than that animal. In
their habits, the prairie dogs are social, never live alone like other
animals, but are always found in villages or large settlements. They
are a wild, frolicksome set of fellows when undisturbed, restless, and
ever on the move. They seem to take especial delight in chattering away
the time, and visiting about, from hole to hole, to gossip and talk over
one another's affairs; at least, so their actions would indicate. Old
hunters say that when they find a good location for a village, and no
water is handy, they dig a well to supply the wants of the community.
On several occasions, I have crept up close to one of their villages,
without being observed, that I might watch their movements. Directly in
the centre of one of them, I particularly noticed a very large dog,
sitting in front of his door, or entrance to his burrow, and by his own
actions and those of his neighbours, it really looked as though he was
the president, mayor, or chief; at all events, he was the "big dog" of
the place.
For at least an hour, I watched the movements of this little community;
during that time, the large dog I have mentioned received at least a
dozen visits from his fellow-dogs, who would stop and chat with him a
few moments, and then run off to their domiciles. All this while he
never left his post for a single minute, and I thought I could discover
a gravity in his deportment, not discernible in those by whom he was
addressed. Far be it from me to say that the visits he received were
upon business, or having anything to do with the local government of the
village; but it certainly appeared as if such was the case. If any
animal is endowed with reasoning powers, or has any system of laws
regulating the body politic, it is the prairie dog.
In different parts of the village the members of it were seen
gambolling, frisking, and visiting about, occasionally turning heels
over head into their holes, and appearing to have all sorts of fun among
themselves. Owls of a singular species were also seen among them; they
did not appear to join in their sports in any way, but still seemed to
be on good terms, and as they were constantly entering and coming out of
the same holes, they might be considered as members of the same family,
or, at least, guests. Rattlesnakes, too, dwell among them; but the idea
generally received among the Mexicans, that they live upon terms of
companionship with the dogs, is quite ridiculous, and without any
foundation.
The snakes I look upon as _loafers_, not easily shaken off by the
regular inhabitants, and they make use of the dwellings of the dogs as
more comfortable quarters than they could find elsewhere. We killed one
a short distance from a burrow, which had made a meal of a little pup;
although I do not think they can master full-grown dogs.
This town, which we visited, was several miles in length and at least a
mile in width. Around and in the vicinity, were smaller villages,
suburbs to the town. We kindled a fire, and cooked three of the animals
we had shot; the meat was exceedingly sweet, tender, and juicy,
resembling that of the squirrel, only that there was more fat upon it.