The Lepans were themselves going northwards, and for a few days we
skirted, in company with them, the western borders of the Cross Timbers.
The immense prairies of Texas are for hundreds and hundreds of miles
bordered on the east by a belt of thick and almost impenetrable forests,
called the Cross Timbers. Their breadth varies from seventy to one
hundred miles. There the oak and hiccory grow tall and beautiful, but
the general appearance of the country is poor, broken, and rugged.
These forests abound with deer and bears, and sometimes the buffalo,
when hotly pursued by the Indians in the prairies, will take refuge in
its closest thickets. Most of the trees contain hives of bees full of a
very delicate honey, the great luxury of the pioneers along these
borders.
We now took our leave of the Lepans and our two white friends, who would
fain have accompanied us to the Comanches had there been a chance of
returning to civilisation through a safe road; as it was, Gabriel,
Roche, and I resumed our journey alone. During two or three days we
followed the edge of the wood, every attempt to penetrate into the
interior proving quite useless, so thick were the bushes and thorny
briars. Twice or thrice we perceived on some hills, at a great
distance, smoke and fires, but we could not tell what Indians might be
there encamped.
We had left the Timbers and had scarcely advanced ten miles in a
westerly direction, when a dog of a most miserable appearance joined our
company. He was soon followed by two others as lean and as weak as
himself. They were evidently Indian dogs of the wolf breed, and
miserable, starved animals they looked, with the ribs almost bare, while
their tongues, parched and hanging downwards, showed clearly the want of
water in these horrible regions. We had ourselves been twenty-four
hours without having tasted any, and our horses were quite exhausted.
We were slowly descending the side of a swell in the prairie, when a
buffalo passed at full speed, ten yards before us, closely pursued by a
Tonquewa Indian (a ferocious tribe), mounted upon a small horse, whose
graceful form excited our admiration. This savage was armed with a long
lance, and covered with a cloak of deer-skin, richly ornamented, his
long black hair undulating with the breeze.
A second Indian soon followed the first, and they were evidently so much
excited with the chase as not to perceive us, although I addressed the
last one who passed not ten yards from me. The next day we met with a
band of Wakoes Indians, another subdivision of the Comanches or of the
Apaches, and not yet seen or even mentioned by any traveller. They were
all mounted upon fine tall horses, evidently a short time before
purchased at the Mexican settlements, for some of them had their shoes
still on their feet. They immediately offered us food and water, and
gave us fresh steeds, for our own were quite broken down, and could
scarcely drag themselves along. We encamped with them that day on a
beautiful spot, where our poor animals recovered a little. We bled them
freely, an operation which probably saved them to share with us many
more toils and dangers.
The next day we arrived at the Wakoe village, pleasantly situated upon
the banks of a cold and clear stream, which glided through a romantic
valley, studded here and there with trees just sufficient to vary the
landscape, without concealing its beauties. All around the village were
vast fields of Indian corn and melons; further off numerous herds of
cattle, sheep, and horses were grazing; while the women were busy drying
buffalo meat. In this hospitable village we remained ten days, by which
time we and our beasts had entirely recovered from our fatigues.
This tribe is certainly far superior in civilisation and comforts to all
other tribes of Indians, the Shoshones not excepted. The Wakoe wigwams
are well built, forming long streets, admirable for their cleanness and
regularity. They are made of long posts, neatly squared, firmly fixed
into the ground, and covered over with tanned buffalo hides, the roof
being formed of white straw, plaited much finer than the common summer
hats of Boston manufacture. These dwellings are of a conical form,
thirty feet in height and fifteen in diameter. Above the partition
walls of the principal room are two rows of beds, neatly arranged, as on
board of packet-ships. The whole of their establishment, in fact,
proves that they not only live at ease, but also enjoy a high degree of
comfort and luxury.
Attached to every wigwam is another dwelling of less dimensions, the
lower part of which is used as a provision store. Here is always to be
found a great quantity of pumpkins, melons, dried peaches, grapes, and
plums, cured venison, and buffalo tongues. Round the store is a kind of
balcony, leading to a small room above it. What it contained I know
not, though I suspect it is consecrated to the rites of the Wakoe
religion. Kind and hospitable as they were, they refused three or four
times to let us penetrate in this sanctum sanctorum, and of course we
would not press them further.
The Wakoes, or, to say better, their villages, are unknown, except to a
few trappers and hunters, who will never betray the kind hospitality
they have received by showing the road to them. There quiet and
happiness have reigned undisturbed for many centuries. The hunters and
warriors themselves will often wander in the distant settlements of the
Yankees and Mexicans to procure seeds, for they are very partial to
gardening; they cultivate tobacco; in fact, they are, I believe, the
only indians who seriously occupy themselves with agriculture, which
occupation does not prevent them from being a powerful and warlike
people.
As well as the Apaches and the Comanches, the Wakoes are always on
horseback; they are much taller and possess more bodily strength than
either of these two nations, whom they also surpass in ingenuity. A few
years ago, three hundred Texians, under the command of General Smith,
met an equal party of the Wakoes hunting to the east of the Cross
Timbers. As these last had many fine horses and an immense provision of
hides and cured meat, the Texians thought that nothing could be more
easy than routing the Indians and stealing their booty. They were,
however, sadly mistaken; when they made their attack they were almost
all cut to pieces, and the unburied bones of two hundred and forty
Texians remain blanching in the prairie, as a monument of their own
rascality and the prowess of the Wakoes.
Comfortable and well treated as we were by that kind people, we could
not remain longer with them; so we continued our toilsome and solitary
journey. The first day was extremely damp and foggy; a pack of sneaking
wolves were howling about, within a few yards of us, but the sun came
out about eight o'clock, dispersing the fog and also the wolves.
We still continued our former course, and found an excellent road for
fifteen miles, when we entered a singular tract of land unlike anything
we had ever before seen. North and south, as far as the eye could
reach, nothing could be seen but a sandy plain, covered with dwarf oaks
two and three feet high, and bearing innumerable acorns of a large size.
This desert, although our horses sank to the very knee in the sand, we
were obliged to cross; night came on before the passage was effected,
and we were quite tired with the fatigues of the day. We were, however,
fortunate enough to find a cool and pure stream of running water, on the
opposite side of which the prairie had been recently burnt, and the
fresh grass was just springing up; here we encamped.
We started the next morning, and ascended a high ridge; we were in great
spirits, little anticipating the horrible tragedy in which we should
soon have to play our parts. The country before us was extremely rough
and broken; we pushed on, however, buffeting, turning, and twisting
about until nearly dark, crossing and recrossing deep gullies, our
progress in one direction impeded by steep hills, and in another by
yawning ravines, until, finally, we encamped at night not fifteen miles
from where we had started in the morning. During the day, we had found
large plum patches, and had picked a great quantity of this fruit, which
we found sweet and refreshing after our toil.
On the following morning, after winding about until noon among the
hills, we at length reached a beautiful table land, covered with
musqueet trees. So suddenly did we leave behind us the rough and uneven
tract of country and enter a level valley, and so instantaneous was the
transition, that the change of scenery in a theatre was brought forcibly
to our minds; it was turning from the bold and wild scenery of Salvator
Rosa to dwell upon the smiling landscape of a Poussin or Claude Lorrain.
On starting in the morning, nothing was to be seen but a rough and
rugged succession of hills before us, piled one upon another, each
succeeding hill rising above its neighbour. At the summit of the
highest of these hills, the beautiful and fertile plain came suddenly to
view, and we were immediately upon it, without one of us anticipating
anything of the kind. The country between the Cross Timbers and the
Rocky Mountains rises by steps, if I may so call them. The traveller
journeying west meets, every fifty or sixty miles, with a ridge of high
bills; as he ascends these, he anticipates a corresponding descent upon
the opposite side, but in most instances, on reaching this summit, he
finds before him a level and fertile prairie. This is certainly the
case south of the Red River, whatever it may be to the northward of it.
We halted an hour or two on reaching this beautiful table land, to rest
ourselves and give our horses an opportunity to graze. Little villages
of prairie dogs were scattered here and there, and we killed
half-a-dozen of them for our evening meal. The fat of these animals, I
have forgotten to say, is asserted to be an infallible remedy for the
rheumatism.
In the evening, we again started, and encamped, an hour after sun-down,
upon the banks of a clear running stream. We had, during the last part
of our journey, discovered the tops of three or four high mountains in
the distance; we knew them to be "The Crows," by the description of them
given to us by the Wakoes.
Early the next morning we were awakened by the warbling of innumerable
singing birds, perched among the bushes along the borders of the stream.
Pleasing as was the concert, we were obliged to leave it behind and
pursue our weary march. Throughout the day we had an excellent road,
and when night same, we had travelled about thirty-five miles. The
mountains, the summits of which we had perceived the evening before,
were now plainly visible, and answered to the descriptions of the
Wakoes, as those in the neighbourhood of the narrows of the Red River.
We now considered that we were near the end of our journey. That night
we swallowed a very scanty supper, laid down to sleep, and dreamed of
beaver tail and buffalo hump and tongues. The next day, at noon, we
crossed the bed of a stream, which was evidently a large river during
the rainy season. At that time but little water was found in it, and
that so salt, it was impossible even for our horses to drink it.
Towards night, we came to the banks of a clear stream, the waters of
which were bubbling along, over a bed of golden sand, running nearly
north and south, while, at a distance of some six miles, and to our
left, was the chain of hills I have previously mentioned; rising above
the rest, were three peaks, which really deserved the name of mountains.
We crossed the stream and encamped on the other side. Scarcely had we
unsaddled our horses, when we perceived coming towards us a large party
of savages, whose war paint, with the bleeding scalps hanging to their
belts, plainly showed the errand from which they were returning; they
encamped on the other side of the stream, within quarter of a mile from
us.
That night we passed watching, shivering, and fasting, for we dared not
light a fire in the immediate vicinity of our neighbours, whom we could
hear singing and rejoicing. The next morning, long before dawn, we
stole away quietly and trotted briskly till noon, when we encountered a
deep and almost impassable ravine. There we were obliged to halt, and
pass the remainder of the day endeavouring to discover a passage. This
occupied us till night-fall, and we had nothing to eat but plums and
berries. Melancholy were our thoughts when we reflected upon the
difficulties we might shortly have to encounter; and gloomy were our
forebodings as we wrapt ourselves in our blankets, half starved and
oppressed with feelings of uncertainty as to our present position and
our future destinies.
The night passed without alarm, but the next morning we were sickened by
a horrible scene which was passing about half a mile from us. A party
of the same Indians, whom we had seen the evening before, were
butchering some of their captives, while several others were busy
cooking the flesh, and many were eating it. We were rooted to the spot
by a thrill of horror we could not overcome; even our horses seemed to
know by instinct that something horrible was acting below, for they
snuffed the air, and with their ears pointed straight forward, trembled
so as to satisfy us that for the present we could not avail ourselves of
their services. Gabriel crept as near as he could to the party, leaving
us to await his return in a terrible state of suspense and anxiety.
When he rejoined us, it appeared our sight had not deceived us. There
were nine more prisoners, who would probably undergo the same fate on
the following day; four, he said, were Comanches, the other five,
Mexican females,--two young girls and three women.
The savages had undoubtedly made an inroad upon San Miguel or Taos, the
two most northern settlements of the Mexicans, not far from the Green
Mountains where we were ourselves going. What could we do? We could
not fight the cannibals, who were at least one hundred in number, and
yet we could not go away and leave men and women of our own colour to a
horrible death, and a tomb in the stomach of these savages. The idea
could not be borne, so we determined to remain and trust to chance or
Providence. After their abominable meal, the savages scattered about
the prairie in every direction, but not breaking up their camp, where
they left their prisoners, under the charge of twelve of their young
warriors.
Many plans did we propose for the rescue of the poor prisoners, but they
were all too wild for execution; at last chance favoured us, although we
did not entirely succeed in our enterprise. Three or four deer galloped
across the prairie, and passed not fifty yards from the camp. A fine
buck came in our direction, and two of the Indians who were left in
charge started after him. They rushed in among us, and stood motionless
with astonishment at finding neighbours they had not reckoned upon. We,
however, gave them no time to recover from their surprise, our knives
and tomahawks performed quickly and silently the work of death, and
little remorse did we feel, after the scene we had witnessed in the
morning. We would have killed, if possible, the whole band, as they
slept, without any more compunction than we would have destroyed a nest
of rattlesnakes.
The deer were followed by a small herd of buffaloes. We had quickly
saddled and secured our horses to some shrubs, in case it should be
necessary to run for our lives, when we perceived the ten remaining
Indians, having first examined and ascertained that their captives were
well bound, start on foot in chase of the herd of buffaloes; indeed
there was but about twenty horses in the whole band, and they had been
ridden away by the others. Three of these Indians we killed without
attracting the attention of the rest, and Gabriel, without being
discerned, gained the deserted encampment, and severed the thongs which
bound the prisoners.
The Mexican women refused to fly; they were afraid of being captured and
tortured; they thought they would be spared, and taken to the wigwams of
the savages, who, we then learned, belonged to the tribe of the Cayugas.
They told us that thirteen Indian prisoners had already been eaten, but
no white people. The Comanche prisoners armed themselves with the
lances, bows, and arrows left in the camp, and in an hour after the
passage of the buffaloes, but two of the twelve Indians were alive;
these, giving the war-whoop to recall their party, at last discovered
that their comrades had been killed.
At that moment the prairie became animated with buffaloes and hunters;
the Cayugas on horseback were coming back, driving another herd before
them. No time was to be lost if we wished to save our scalps; we gave
one of our knives (so necessary an article in the wilderness) to the
Comanches, who expressed what they felt in glowing terms, and we left
them to their own cunning and knowledge of the localities, to make their
escape. We had not overrated their abilities, for some few days
afterwards we met them safe and sound in their own wigwams.
We galloped as fast as our horses could go for fifteen miles, along the
ravine which had impeded our journey during the preceding day, when we
fell in with a small creek. There we and our horses drank incredible
quantities of water, and as our position was not yet very safe, we again
resumed our march at a brisk trot. We travelled three or four more
miles along the foot of a high ridge, and discovered what seemed to be
an Indian trail, leading in a zigzag course up the side of it. This we
followed, and soon found ourselves on the summit of the ridge. There we
were again gratified at finding spread out before us a perfectly level
prairie, extending as far as the eye could reach, without a tree to
break the monotony of the scene.
We halted a few minutes to rest our horses, and for some time watched
what was passing in the valley we had left, now lying a thousand feet
below us. All we could perceive at the distance which we were, was that
all was in motion, and we thought that our best plan was to leave as
much space between us and the Cayugas as possible. We had but little
time to converse with the liberated Comanches, yet we had gained from
them that we were in the right direction, and were not many days from
our destination.
At the moment we were mounting our horses, all was quiet again in the
valley below. It was a lovely panorama, and, viewing it from the point
where we stood, we could hardly believe that, some hours previous, such
a horrible tragedy had been there performed. Softened down by the
distance, there was a tranquillity about it which appeared as if it
never had been broken. The deep brown skirting of bushes, on the sides
of the different water-courses, broke and varied the otherwise vast
extent of vivid green. The waters of the river, now reduced to a silver
thread, were occasionally brought to view by some turn in the stream,
and again lost to sight under the rich foliage on the banks.
We continued our journey, and towards evening we descried a large bear
within a mile of us, and Roche started in chase. Having gained the
other side of the animal, he drove it directly towards me. Cocking a
pistol, I rode a short distance in front, to meet him, and while in the
act of taking deliberate aim at the bear, then not more than eight yards
from me, I was surprised to see him turn a summerset and commence
kicking with his hind legs. Unseen by me, Gabriel had crept up close on
the opposite side of my horse, and had noosed the animal with his lasso,
as I was pulling the trigger of my pistol; Bruin soon disengaged himself
from the lasso, and made towards Roche, who brought him down with a
single shot below the ear.
Gabriel and I then went on ahead, to select a place for passing the
night, leaving our friend behind to cut up the meat; but we had not gone
half a mile, when our progress was suddenly checked by a yawning abyss,
or chasm, some two hundred yards across, and probably six hundred feet
in depth. The banks, at this place, were nearly perpendicular, and from
the sides projected sharp rocks, and, now and then, tall majestic
cedars. We travelled a mile or more along the banks, but perceiving it
was too late to find a passage across, we encamped in a little hollow
wider a cluster of cedars. There we were soon joined by Roche, and we
were indebted to Bruin for an excellent repast.
The immense chasm before us ran nearly north and south, and we perceived
that the current of the stream, or rather torrent, below us, ran towards
the former point. The next morning, we determined to direct our steps
to the northward, and we had gone but a few miles before large buffalo
or Indian trails were seen running in a south-west direction, and as we
travelled on, others were noticed bearing more to the west. Obliged to
keep out some distance from the ravine, to avoid the small gullies
emptying into it and the various elbows which it made, about noon we
struck upon a large trail, running directly west; this we followed, and
on reaching the main chasm, found that it led to the only place where
there was any chance of crossing. Here, too, we found that innumerable
trails joined, coming from every direction--proof conclusive that we
must cross here or travel many weary miles out of our way.
Dismounting from our animals, we looked at the yawning abyss before us,
and our first impression was, that the passage was impracticable. That
buffaloes, mustangs, and, very probably, Indian horses, had crossed
here, was evident enough, for a zigzag path had been worn down the rocky
and precipitous sides; but our three horses were unused to sliding down
or climbing precipices, and they drew back on being led to the brink of
the chasm.
After many unsuccessful attempts, I at last persuaded my steed to take
the path; the others followed. In some places they went along the very
verge of rocky edges, where a false step would have precipitated them
hundreds of feet down, to instant death; in others, they were compelled
to slide down passes nearly perpendicular. Gabriel's horse was much
bruised, but after an hour's severe toil, we gained the bottom, without
sustaining any serious injury.
Here we remained a couple of hours, to rest our weary animals and find
the trail leading up the opposite side. This we discovered, and, after
great exertions, succeeded in clambering up to the top, where we again
found ourselves upon a smooth and level prairie. On looking back, I
shuddered to behold the frightful chasm we had so successfully passed,
and thought it a miracle that we had got safely across; but a very short
time afterwards, I was convinced that the feat we had just accomplished
was a mere nothing.
After giving our animals another rest, we resumed our journey across the
dreary prairie. Not a tree or bush could be seen in any direction. A
green carpeting of short grass was spread over the vast scene, with
naught else to relieve the sight.
People may talk of the solitude of forests as much as they please, but
there is a company in trees which one misses upon the prairie. It is in
the prairie, with its ocean-like waving of grass, like a vast sea
without landmarks, that the traveller feels a sickly sensation of
loneliness. There he feels as if not in the world, although not out of
it; there he finds no sign or trace to tell him that there are, beyond
or behind him, countries where millions of his own kindred are living
and moving. It is in the prairie that man really feels that he is--
alone.
We rode briskly along till sun-down, and encamped by the side of a small
water-hole, formed by a hollow in the prairie. The mustangs, as well as
the deer and antelopes, had left this part of the prairie, driven out,
doubtless, by the scarcity of water. Had it not been for occasional
showers, while travelling through this dreary waste, we should most
inevitably have perished, for even the immense chasms had no water in
them except that temporarily supplied by the rains.