The morning broke bright and cloudless, the sun rising from the horizon
in all his majesty. Having saddled our horses, we pursued our journey
in a north-east direction; but we had scarcely proceeded six miles
before we suddenly came upon an immense rent or chasm in the earth, far
exceeding in depth the one we had so much difficulty in crossing the day
before. We were not aware of its existence until we were immediately
upon its brink, when a spectacle exceeding in grandeur any thing we had
previously witnessed burst upon our sight. Not a tree or bush, no
outline whatever, marked its position or course, and we were lost in
amazement and wonder as we rode up and peered into the yawning abyss.
In depth it could not have been less than one thousand feet, in width
from three to five hundred yards, and at the point where we first struck
it, its sides were nearly perpendicular. A sickly sensation of
dizziness was felt by all three of us, as we looked down, as it were,
into the very bowels of the earth. Below, an occasional spot of green
relieved the eye, and a stream of water, now visible, now concealed
behind some huge rock, was bubbling and foaming along. Immense walls,
columns, and, in some places, what appeared to be arches, filled the
ravine, worn by the water undoubtedly, but so perfect in form, that we
could with difficulty be brought to believe that the hand of men or
genii had not been employed in raising them. The rains of centuries, a
falling upon the extended prairie, had here found a reservoir and vent,
and their sapping and undermining of the different veins of earth and
stone had formed these strange and fanciful shapes.
Before reaching the chasm, we had crossed numerous large trails leading
a little more to the westward than we had been travelling, and we were
at once convinced that they all centred in a common crossing close at
hand. In this conjecture we were not disappointed, half-an-hour's
trotting brought us into a large road, the thoroughfare for years of
millions of Indians, buffaloes and mustangs. Perilous as the descent
appeared, we well knew there was no other near. My horse was again
started ahead while the two others followed. Once in the narrow path,
which led circuitously down the deep descent, there was no possibility
of turning back, and our maddened animals finally reached the bottom in
safety.
Several large stones were loosened from under our feet during this
frightful descent. They would leap, dash, and thunder down the
precipitous sides, and strike against the bottom far below us with a
terrific crash.
We found a running stream at the bottom, and on the opposite side of it
a romantic dell covered with short grass and a few scattered cotton-wood
trees. A large body of Indians had encamped on this very spot but a few
days previous; the _blazed_ limbs of the trees and other "signs" shewing
that they had made it a resting-place. We, too, halted a couple of
hours to give our horses an opportunity to graze and rest themselves.
The trail which led up to the prairie on the opposite side was
discovered a short distance above us to the south.
As we journeyed along this chasm, we were struck with admiration at the
strange and fanciful figures made by the washing of the waters during
the rainy season. In some places, perfect walls, formed of a reddish
clay, were to be seen standing; in any other locality it would have been
impossible to believe but that they had been raised by the hand of man.
The strata of which these walls were composed was regular in width,
hard, and running perpendicularly; and where the softer sand which had
surrounded them had been washed away, the strata still remained,
standing in some places one hundred feet high, and three or four hundred
in length.
Here and there were columns, and such was their architectural
regularity, and so much of chaste grandeur was there about them, that we
were lost in admiration and wonder. In other places the breastworks of
forts would be plainly visible, then again the frowning turrets of some
castle of the olden time. Cumbrous pillars, apparently ruins of some
mighty pile, formerly raised to religion or royalty, were scattered
about; regularity and perfect design were strangely mixed up with ruin
and disorder, and nature had done it all. Niagara has been considered
one of her wildest freaks; but Niagara falls into insignificance when
compared with the wild grandeur of this awful chasm. Imagination
carried me back to Thebes, to Palmyra, and the Edomite Paetra, and I
could not help imagining that I was wandering among their ruins.
Our passage out of this chasm was effected with the greatest difficulty.
We were obliged to carry our rifles and saddle-bags in our hands, and,
in clambering up a steep precipice, Roche's horse, striking his shoulder
against a projecting rock, was precipitated some fifteen or twenty feet,
falling upon his back. We thought he must be killed by the fall; but,
singular enough, he rose immediately, shook himself, and a second effort
in climbing proved more successful. The animal had not received the
slightest apparent injury.
Before evening we were safely over, having spent five or six hours in
passing this chasm. Once more we found ourselves upon the level of the
prairie, and after proceeding some hundred yards, on looking back, not a
sign of the immense fissure was visible. The waste we were then
travelling over was at least two hundred and fifty miles in width, and
the two chasms I have mentioned were the reservoirs, and at the same
time the channels of escape for the heavy rains which fall upon it
during the wet season.
This prairie is undoubtedly one of the largest in the world, and the
chasm is in perfect keeping with the size of the prairie. At sun-down
we came upon a water-hole, and encamped for the night. By this time we
were entirely out of provisions, and our sufferings commenced.
The next day we resumed our journey, now severely feeling the cravings
of hunger. During our journey we saw small herds of deer and antelopes,
doubtless enticed to the water-courses by the recent rains, and towards
night we descried a drove of mustangs upon a swell of the prairie half a
mile ahead of us. They were all extremely shy, and although we
discharged our rifles at them, not a shot was successful. In the
evening we encamped near a water-hole, overspreading an area of some
twenty acres, but very shallow. Large flocks of Spanish curlews, one of
the best-flavoured birds that fly, were hovering about, and lighting on
it on all sides. Had I been in possession of a double-barrelled gun,
with small shot, we could have had at least one good meal; but as I had
but a heavy rifle and my bow and arrows, we were obliged to go to sleep
supperless.
About two o'clock the next morning we saddled and resumed our travel,
journeying by the stars, still in a north-east direction. On leaving
the Wakoes, we thought that we could be not more than one hundred miles
from the Comanche encampment. We had now ridden much more than that
distance, and were still on the immense prairie. To relieve ourselves
from the horrible suspense we were in--to push forward, with the hope of
procuring some provisions--to get somewhere, in short, was now our
object, and we pressed onward, with the hope of finding relief.
Our horses had, as yet, suffered less than ourselves, for the grazing in
the prairie had been good but our now hurried march, and the difficult
crossing of the immense chasms, began to tell upon them. At sunrise we
halted near a small pond of water, to rest the animals and allow them an
hour to feed.
While stretched upon the ground, we perceived a large antelope slowly
approaching--now stopping, now walking a few steps nearer, evidently
inquisitive as to who, or rather what, we might be. His curiosity cost
him his life: with a well-directed shot, Gabriel brought him down, and
none but a starved man could appreciate our delight. We cooked the best
part of the animal, made a plentiful dinner, and resumed our journey.
For three days more, the same dreary spectacle of a boundless prairie
was still before us. Not a sign was visible that we were nearing its
edge. We journeyed rapidly on till near the middle of the afternoon of
the third day, when we noticed a dark spot a mile and a half ahead of
us. At first we thought it to be a low bush, but as we gradually neared
it, it had more the appearance of a rock, although nothing of the kind
had been seen from the time we first came on the prairie, with the
exception of those at the chasms.
"A buffalo!" cried Roche, whose keen eye at last penetrated the mystery:
"a buffalo, lying down and asleep." Here, then, was another chance for
making a good meal, and we felt our courage invigorated. Gabriel went
ahead on foot, with his rifle, in the hope that he should at least get
near enough to wound the animal, while Roche and I made every
preparation for the chase. Disencumbering our horses of every pound of
superfluous weight, we started for the sport, rendered doubly exciting
by the memory of our recent suffering from starvation.
For a mile beyond where the buffalo lay, the prairie rose gradually, and
we knew nothing of the nature of the ground beyond. Gabriel crept till
within a hundred and fifty yards of the animal, which now began to move
and show signs of uneasiness. Gabriel gave him a shot: evidently hit,
he rose from the ground, whisked his long tail, and looked for a moment
inquiringly about him. I still kept my position a few hundred yards
from Gabriel, who reloaded his piece. Another shot followed: the
buffalo again lashed his sides, and then started off at a rapid gallop,
directly towards the sun, evidently wounded, but not seriously hurt.
Roche and I started in pursuit, keeping close together, until we had
nearly reached the top of the distant rise in the prairie. Here my
horse, being of a superior mettle, passed that of Roche, and, on
reaching the summit, I found the buffalo still galloping rapidly, at a
quarter of a mile's distance. The descent of the prairie was very
gradual, and I could plainly see every object within five miles. I now
applied the spurs to my horse, who dashed madly down the declivity.
Giving one look behind, I saw that Roche, or at least his horse, had
entirely given up the chase. The prairie was comparatively smooth, and
although I dared not to spur my horse to his full speed, I was soon
alongside of the huge animal. It was a bull of the largest size, and
his bright, glaring eyeballs, peering out from his shaggy frontlet of
hair, shewed plainly that he was maddened by his wounds and the hot
pursuit.
It was with the greatest difficulty, so fierce did the buffalo look,
that I could get my horse within twenty yards of him, and when I fired
one of my pistols at that distance, my ball did not take effect. As the
chase progressed, my horse came to his work more kindly, and soon
appeared to take a great interest in the exciting race I let him fall
back a little, and then, by dashing the spurs deep into his sides,
brought him up directly alongside, and within three or four yards of the
infuriated beast.
I fired my other pistol, and the buffalo shrank as the ball struck just
behind the long hair on his shoulders. I was under such headway when I
fired, that I was obliged to pass the animal, cutting across close to
his head, and then again dropping behind. At that moment I lost my
rifle, and I had nothing left but my bow and arrows; but by this time I
had become so much excited by the chase, that I could not think of
giving it up. Still at full speed, I strung my bow, once more put my
spurs to my horse, he flew by the buffalo's right ride, and I buried my
arrow deep into his ribs.
The animal was now frothing and foaming with rage and pain. His eyes
were like two deep red balls of fire, his tongue was out and curling
upwards, his long tufted tail curled on high, or lashing madly against
his sides. A more wild, and at the same time a more magnificent picture
of desperation I had never witnessed.
By this time my horse was completely subjected to my guidance. He no
longer pricked his ears with fear, or sheered off as I approached the
monster, but, on the contrary, ran directly up, that I could almost
touch the animal while bending my bow. I had five or six more arrows
left, but I resolved not to shoot again unless I were certain of
touching a vital part, and succeeded at last in hitting him deep betwixt
the shoulder and the ribs.
This wound caused the maddened beast to spring backwards, and I dashed
past him as he vainly endeavoured to gore and overthrow my horse. The
chase was now over, the buffalo stopped and soon rolled on the ground
perfectly helpless. I had just finished him with two other arrows,
when, for the first time, I perceived that I was no longer alone.
Thirty or forty well-mounted Indians were quietly looking at me in an
approving manner, as if congratulating me on my success. They were the
Comanches we had been so long seeking for. I made myself known to them,
and claimed the hospitality which a year before had been offered to me
by their chief, "the white raven." They all surrounded me and welcomed
me in the most kind manner. Three of them started to fetch my rifle and
to join my companions, who were some eight or nine miles eastward, while
I followed my new friends to their encampment, which was but a few miles
distant. They had been buffalo hunting, and had just reached the top of
the swell when they perceived me and my victim. Of course, I and my two
friends were well received in the wigwam, though the chief was absent
upon an expedition, and when he returned a few days after, a great feast
was given, during which some of the young men sang a little impromptu
poem, on the subject of my recent chase.
The Comanches are a noble and most powerful nation. They have hundreds
of villages, between which they are wandering all the year round. They
are well armed, and always move in bodies of some hundreds, and even
thousands all active and skilful horsemen, living principally by the
chase, and feeding occasionally during their distant excursions, upon
the flesh of the mustang, which, after all, is a delightful food,
especially when fat and young. A great council of the whole tribe is
held once a year, besides which there are quarterly assemblies, where
all important matters are discussed. They have long been hostile to the
Mexicans, but are less so now; their hatred having been concentrated
upon the Yankees and Texians, whom they consider as brigands. They do
not apply themselves to the culture of the ground as the Wakoes, yet
they own innumerable herds of horses, cattle, and sheep, which graze in
the northern prairies, and they are indubitably one of the wealthiest
people in the world. They have a great profusion of gold, which they
obtain from the neighbourhood of the San Seba hills, and work it
themselves into bracelets, armlets, diadems, as well as bits for their
horses, and ornaments to their saddles. Like all the Shoshones' tribe,
they are most elegant horsemen, and by dint of caresses and good
treatment, render the animals so familiar and attached to them, that I
have often seen some of them following their masters like dogs, licking
their hands and shoulders. The Comanche young women are exquisitely
clean, good-looking, and but slightly bronzed; indeed the Spaniards of
Andalusia and the Calabrians are darker than they are. Their voice is
soft, their motions dignified and graceful; their eyes dark and
flashing, when excited, but otherwise mild, with a soft tinge of
melancholy. The only fault to be found in them is that they are
inclined to be too stout, arising from their not taking exercise.
The Comanches, like all the tribes of the Shoshone breed, are generous
and liberal to excess. You can take what you please from the wigwam--
horses, skins, rich furs, gold, anything, in fact, except their arms and
their females, whom they love fondly. Yet they are not jealous; they
are too conscious of their own superiority to fear anything, and
besides, they respect too much the weaker sex to harbour any injurious
suspicion. It is a very remarkable fact, that all the tribes who claim
any affinity with the Shoshones, the Apaches, the Comanches, and the
Pawnies Loups, have always rejected with scorn any kind of spirits when
offered to them by the traders. They say that "Shoba-wapo" (the
fire-water) is the greatest enemy of the Indian race, and that the
Yankees, too cowardly to fight the Indians as men, have invented this
terrible poison to destroy them without danger.
"We hated once the Spaniards and the Watchinangoes (Mexicans)," they
say, "but they were honourable men compared with the thieves of Texas.
The few among the Spanish race who would fight, did so as warriors; and
they had laws among them which punished with death those who would give
or sell this poison to the Indians."
The consequence of this abstinence from spirits is, that these Western
nations improve and increase rapidly; while, on the contrary, the
Eastern tribes, in close contact with the Yankees, gradually disappear.
The Sioux, the Osage, the Winnebego, and other Eastern tribes, are very
cruel in disposition; they show no mercy, and consider every means fair,
however treacherous, to conquer an enemy. Not so with the Indians to
the west of the Rocky Mountains. They have a spirit of chivalry, which
prevents them taking any injurious advantage.
As I have before observed, an Indian will never fire his rifle upon an
enemy who is armed only with his lance, bow, and arrows or if he does,
and kills him, he will not take his scalp, as it would constantly recall
to his mind that he had killed a defenceless foe. Private encounters
with their enemies, the Navahoes and Arrapahoes, are conducted as
tournaments in the days of yore. Two Indians will run full speed
against each other with their well-poised lance; on their shield, with
equal skill, they will receive the blow; then, turning round, they will
salute each other as a mark of esteem from one brave foe to another.
Such incidents happen daily, but they will not be believed by the
Europeans, who have the vanity of considering themselves alone as
possessing "le sentiment du chevalresque et du beau:" besides, they are
accustomed to read so many horrible accounts of massacres committed by
the savages, that the idea of a red skin is always associated in their
mind with the picture of burning stakes and slow torture. It is a
mistake, and a sad one; would to God that our highly civilised nations
of Europe had to answer for no more cruelties than those perpetuated by
the numerous gallant tribes of western America.
I was present one day when a military party came from Fort Bent, on the
head of the Arkansa, to offer presents and make proposals of peace to
the Comanche council. The commander made a long speech, after which he
offered I don't know how many hundred gallons of whisky. One of the
ancient chiefs had not patience to hear any more, and he rose full of
indignation. His name was Auku-wonze-zee, that is to say, "he who is
superlatively old."
"Silence," he said; "speak no more, double-tongued. Oposh-ton-ehoe
(Yankee). Why comest thou, false-hearted, to pour thy deceitful words
into the ears of my young men? You tell us you come for peace, and you
offered to us poison. Silence. Oposh-ton-ehoe, let me hear thee no
more, for I am an old man; and now that I have one foot in the happy
grounds of immortality, it pains me to think that I leave my people so
near a nation of liars. An errand of peace! Does the snake offer peace
to the squirrel when he kills him with the poison of his dreaded glance?
does an Indian say to the beaver, he comes to offer peace when he sets
his traps for him? No! a pale-faced `Oposh-ton-ehoe', or a `_Kish emok
comho-anac_' (the beast that gets drunk and lies, the Texian), can alone
thus lie to nature--but not a red-skin, nor even a girlish Wachinangoe,
nor a proud `_Skakanah_' (Englishman), nor a `_Mahamate kosh ehoj_'
(open-heart, open-handed Frenchman).
"Be silent then, man with the tongue of a snake, the heart of a deer,
and the ill-will of a scorpion; be silent, for I and mine despise thee
and thine. Yet fear not, thou mayest depart in peace, for a Comanche is
too noble not to respect a white flag, even when carried by a wolf or a
fox. Till sun-set eat, but alone; smoke, but not in our calumets;
repose in two or three lodges, for we can burn them after pollution, and
then depart, and say to thy people, that the Comanche, having but one
tongue and one nature, can neither speak with nor understand an
Oposh-ton-ehoe.
"Take back thy presents; my young men will have none of them, for they
can accept nothing except from a friend--and if thou look'st at their
feet, thou shalt see their mocassins, their leggings, even their bridles
are braided with the hair of thy people, perhaps of thy brothers. Take
thy `Shoba-wapo' (fire-water), and give it to drink to thy warriors,
that we may see them raving and tumbling like swine. Silence, and away
with thee; our squaws will follow ye on your trail for a mile, to burn
even the grass ye have trampled upon near our village. Away with you
all, now and for ever! I have said!!!"
The American force was numerous and well armed, and a moment, a single
moment, deeply wounded by these bitter taunts, they looked as if they
would fight and die to resent the insult; but it was only a transient
feeling, for they had their orders and they went away, scorned and
humiliated. Perhaps, too, an inward voice whispered to them that they
deserved their shame and humiliation; perhaps the contrast of their
conduct with that of the savages awakened in them some better feeling,
which had a long time remained dormant, and they were now disgusted with
themselves and their odious policy.
As it was, they departed in silence, and the last of their line had
vanished under the horizon before the Indians could smother the
indignation and resentment which the strangers had excited within their
hearts. Days, however, passed away, and with them the recollection of
the event. Afterwards, I chanced to meet, in the Arkansas, with the
Colonel who commanded; he was giving a very strange version of his
expedition, and as I heard facts so distorted, I could not help
repeating to myself the words of Auku-wonze-zee, "The Oposh-ton-ehoe is
a double-tongued liar!"