Preparations for returning Home -- Breaking out of the Small-pox --
The Start -- Our Caravan -- Manuel the Comanche -- A New Route --
The Prairie on Fire -- Danger to be apprehended from these
Conflagrations -- A Comanche Buffalo-chase -- A Skirmish with the
Pawnees -- An intrepid Mexican -- The Wounded -- Value of a thick
Skull -- Retreat of the Enemy and their Failure -- A bleak
Northwester -- Loss of our Sheep -- The Llano Estacado and Sources
of Red River -- The Canadian River -- Cruelties upon Buffalo --
Feats at 'Still-hunting' -- Mr. Wethered's Adventure -- Once more on
our own Soil -- The False Washita -- Enter our former Trail --
Character of the Country over which we had travelled -- Arrival at
Van Buren -- The two Routes to Santa Fé -- Some Advantages of that
from Arkansas -- Restlessness of Prairie Travellers in civilized
life, and Propensity for returning to the Wild Deserts.
About the beginning of February, 1840, and just as I was making
preparations to return to the United States, [Pg204] the small-pox
broke out among my men, in a manner which at first occasioned at least
as much astonishment as alarm. One of them, who had been vaccinated,
having travelled in a district where the small-pox prevailed,
complained of a little fever, which was followed by slight eruptions,
but so unlike true variolous pustules, that I treated the matter very
lightly; not even suspecting a varioloid. These slight symptoms {137}
having passed off, nothing more was thought of it until eight or ten
days after, when every unvaccinated member of our company was attacked
by that fell disease, which soon began to manifest very malignant
features. There were no fatal cases, however; yet much apprehension
was felt, lest the disease should break out again on the route; but,
to our great joy, we escaped this second scourge.
A party that left Santa Fé for Missouri soon afterward, was much more
unfortunate. On the way, several of their men were attacked by the
small-pox: some of them died, and, others retaining the infection till
they approached the Missouri frontier, they were compelled to undergo
a 'quarantine' in the bordering prairie, before they were permitted to
enter the settlements.
On the 25th of February we set out from Santa Fé; but owing to some
delays, we did not leave San Miguel till the 1st of March. As the
pasturage was yet insufficient for our animals, we here provided
ourselves with over six hundred bushels of corn, to feed them on the
way. This time our caravan consisted of twenty-eight wagons, two small
cannons, and forty-seven men, including sixteen Mexicans and a
Comanche Indian who acted in the capacity of guide.[130] Two gentlemen
of Baltimore, {138} Messrs. [Pg205] S. Wethered and J. R. Ware, had
joined our caravan with one wagon and three men, making up the
aggregate above-mentioned. We had also a caballada of more than two
hundred mules, with nearly three hundred sheep and goats. The sheep
were brought along partially to supply us with meat in case of
emergency: the surplusage, however, could not fail to command a fair
price in the United States.
Instead of following the trail of the year before, I determined to
seek a nearer and better route down the south side of the Canadian
river, under the guidance of the Comanche; by which movement, we had
again to travel a distance of four hundred miles over an entirely new
country. We had just passed the Laguna Colorada, where, the following
year, a division of Texan volunteers, under General McLeod,
surrendered to Col. Archuleta,[131] when our fire was carelessly
permitted to communicate with the prairie grass. As there was a
head-wind blowing at the time, we very soon got out of reach of the
conflagration: but the next day, the wind having changed, the fire was
again perceived in our rear approaching us at a very brisk pace. The
terror [Pg206] which these prairie conflagrations are calculated to
inspire, when the grass is tall and dry, as was the case in the
present instance, has often {139} been described, and though the
perils of these disasters are not unfrequently exaggerated, they are
sometimes sufficient to daunt the stoutest heart. Mr. Kendall relates
a frightful incident of this kind which occurred to the Texan Santa Fé
Exposition; and all those who have crossed the Prairies have had more
or less experience as to the danger which occasionally threatens the
caravans from these sweeping visitations. The worst evil to be
apprehended with those bound for Santa Fé is from the explosion of
gunpowder, as a keg or two of twenty-five pounds each, is usually to
be found in every wagon. When we saw the fire gaining so rapidly upon
us, we had to use the whip very unsparingly; and it was only when the
lurid flames were actually rolling upon the heels of our teams, that
we succeeded in reaching a spot of short-grass prairie, where there
was no further danger to be apprehended.
The headway of the conflagration was soon after checked by a small
stream which traversed our route; and we had only emerged fairly from
its smoke, on the following day (the 9th), when our Comanche guide
returned hastily from his accustomed post in advance, and informed us
that he had espied three buffaloes, not far off. They were the first
we had met with, and, being heartily anxious for a change from the
dried beef with which we were provided, I directed the Comanche, who
was by far our surest hunter, to prepare at once for the _chasse_. He
said he preferred to hunt on {140} horseback and with his bow and
arrow; and believing my riding-horse the fleetest in company (which,
by the by, was but a common pony, and thin in flesh withal), I
dismounted and gave him the bridle, with many charges to treat him
kindly, as we still had a long journey before [Pg207] us. "Don't
attempt to kill but one--that will serve us for the present!" I
exclaimed, as he galloped off. The Comanche was among the largest of
his tribe--bony and muscular--weighing about two hundred pounds: but
once at his favorite sport, he very quickly forgot my injunction, as
well as the weakness of my little pony. He soon brought down two of
his game,--and shyly remarked to those who followed in his wake, that,
had he not feared a scolding from me, he would not have permitted the
third to escape.
On the evening of the 10th our camp was pitched in the neighborhood of
a ravine in the prairie, and as the night was dark and dreary, the
watch tried to comfort themselves by building a rousing fire, around
which they presently drew, and commenced 'spinning long yarns' about
Mexican fandangoes, and black-eyed damsels. All of a sudden the
stillness of the night was interrupted by a loud report of fire-arms,
and a shower of bullets came whizzing by the ears of the heedless
sentinels. Fortunately, however, no one was injured; which must be
looked upon as a very extraordinary circumstance, when we consider
what a fair mark our men, thus huddled {141} round a blazing fire,
presented to the rifles of the Indians. The savage yells, which
resounded from every part of the ravine, bore very satisfactory
testimony that this was no false alarm; and the 'Pawnee whistle' which
was heard in every quarter, at once impressed us with the idea of its
being a band of that famous prairie banditti.
Every man sprang from his pallet with rifle in hand; for, upon the
Prairies, we always sleep with our arms by our sides or under our
heads. Our Comanche seemed at first very much at a loss what to do. At
last, thinking it might possibly be a band of his own nation, he began
a most boisterous harangue in his vernacular tongue, which he [Pg208]
continued for several minutes; when finding that the enemy took no
notice of him, and having become convinced also, from an occasional
Pawnee word which he was able to make out, that he had been wasting
breath with the mortal foes of his race, he suddenly ceased all
expostulations, and blazed away with his rifle, with a degree of
earnestness which was truly edifying, as if convinced that that was
the best he could do for us.
It was now evident that the Indians had taken possession of the entire
ravine, the nearest points of which were not fifty yards from our
wagons: a warning to prairie travellers to encamp at a greater
distance from whatsoever might afford shelter for an enemy. The banks
of the gully were low, but still they formed a very good breastwork,
behind which {142} the enemy lay ensconced, discharging volleys of
balls upon our wagons, among which we were scattered. At one time we
thought of making an attempt to rout them from their fortified
position; but being ignorant of their number, and unable to
distinguish any object through the dismal darkness which hung all
around, we had to remain content with firing at random from behind our
wagons, aiming at the flash of their guns, or in the direction whence
any noise appeared to emanate. Indeed their yelling was almost
continuous, breaking out every now and then in the most hideous
screams and vociferous chattering, which were calculated to appal such
timorous persons as we may have had in our caravan. All their
screeching and whooping, however, had no effect--they could not make
our animals break from the enclosure of the wagons, in which they were
fortunately shut up; which was no doubt their principal object for
attacking us.
I cannot forbear recording a most daring feat performed by a Mexican
muleteer, named Antonio Chavez, during the hottest of the first onset.
Seeing the danger of my [Pg209] two favorite riding horses, which
were tethered outside within a few paces of the savages, he rushed out
and brought safely in the most valuable of the two, though fusil-balls
were showering around him all the while. The other horse broke his
halter and made his escape.
Although sundry scores of shots had been fired at our people, we had
only two men {143} wounded. One, a Mexican, was but slightly injured
in the hand, but the wound of the other, who was an Italian, bore a
more serious aspect, and deserves especial mention. He was a short,
corpulent fellow, and had been nicknamed 'Dutch'--a loquacious,
chicken-hearted _fainéant_, and withal in the daily habit of gorging
himself to such an enormous extent, that every alternate night he was
on the sick list. On this memorable occasion, Dutch had 'foundered'
again, and the usual prescription of a double dose of Epsom salts had
been his supper potion. The skirmish had continued for about an hour,
and although a frightful groaning had been heard in Dutch's wagon for
some time, no one paid any attention to it, as it was generally
supposed to be from the effects of his dose. At length, however, some
one cried out, "Dutch is wounded!" I immediately went to see him, and
found him writhing and twisting himself as if in great pain, crying
all the time that he was shot. "Shot!--where?" I inquired. "Ah! in the
head, sir?" "Pshaw! Dutch, none of that; you've only bumped your head
in trying to hide yourself." Upon lighting a match, however, I found
that a ball had passed through the middle of his hat, and that, to my
consternation, the top of his head was bathed in blood. It turned out,
upon subsequent examination, that the ball had glanced upon the skull,
inflicting a serious-looking wound, and so deep that an inch of sound
skin separated the holes at which the {144} bullet had entered and
passed out. Notwithstanding I at first apprehended [Pg210] a fracture
of the scull, it very soon healed, and Dutch was 'up and about' again
in the course of a week.
Although teachers not unfrequently have cause to deplore the thickness
of their pupils' skulls, Dutch had every reason to congratulate
himself upon possessing such a treasure, as it had evidently preserved
him from a more serious catastrophe. It appeared he had taken shelter
in his wagon at the commencement of the attack, without reflecting
that the boards and sheets were not ball-proof: and as Indians,
especially in the night, are apt to shoot too high, he was in a much
more dangerous situation than if upon the ground.
The enemy continued the attack for nearly three hours, when they
finally retired, so as to make good their retreat before daylight. As
it rained and snowed from that time till nine in the morning, their
'sign' was almost entirely obliterated, and we were unable to discover
whether they had received any injury or not. It was evidently a foot
party, which we looked upon as another proof of their being Pawnees;
for these famous marauders are well known to go forth on their
expeditions of plunder without horses, although they seldom fail to
return well mounted.
Their shot had riddled our wagons considerably: in one we counted no
less than eight bullet-holes. We had the gratification to believe,
however, that they did not get a single {145} one of our animals: the
horse which broke away at the first onset, doubtless made his escape;
and a mule which was too badly wounded to travel, was dispatched by
the muleteers, lest it should fall into the hands of the savages, or
into the mouths of the wolves; and they deemed it more humane to leave
it to be eaten dead than alive. We also experienced considerable
damage in our stock of sheep, a number of them having been devoured by
wolves. They had been scattered at the beginning of the attack;
[Pg211] and, in their anxiety to fly from the scene of action, had
jumped, as it were, into the very jaws of their ravenous enemies.
On the 12th of March, we ascended upon the celebrated _Llano
Estacado_, and continued along its borders for a few days. The second
night upon this dreary plain, we experienced one of the strongest and
bleakest 'northwesters' that ever swept across those prairies; during
which, our flock of sheep and goats, being left unattended, fled over
the plain, in search of some shelter, it was supposed, from the
furious element. Their disappearance was not observed for some time,
and the night being too dark to discern anything, we were obliged to
defer going in pursuit of them till the following morning. After a
fruitless and laborious search, during which the effects of the mirage
proved a constant source of annoyance and disappointment, we were
finally obliged to relinquish the pursuit, and return to the caravan
without finding one of them.
{146} These severe winds are very prevalent upon the great western
prairies, though they are seldom quite so inclement. At some seasons,
they are about as regular and unceasing as the 'trade winds' of the
ocean. It will often blow a gale for days, and even weeks together,
without slacking for a moment, except occasionally at night. It is for
this reason, as well as on account of the rains, that percussion guns
are preferable upon the Prairies, particularly for those who
understand their use. The winds are frequently so severe as to sweep
away both sparks and priming from a flint lock, and thus render it
wholly ineffective.
The following day we continued our march down the border of the Llano
Estacado. Knowing that our Comanche guide was about as familiar with
all those great plains as a landlord with his premises, I began to
question him, [Pg212] as we travelled along, concerning the different
streams which pierced them to the southward. Pointing in that
direction, he said there passed a water-course, at the distance of a
hard day's ride, which he designated as a _cañada_ or valley, in which
there was always water to be found at occasional places, but that none
flowed in its channel except during the rainy season. This cañada he
described as having its origin in the Llano Estacado some fifty or
sixty miles east of Rio Pecos, and about the same distance south of
the route we came, and that its direction was a little south of east,
passing to the southward {147} of the northern portion of the Witchita
mountains, known to Mexican Ciboleros and Comancheros as _Sierra
Jumanes_. It was, therefore, evident that this was the principal
northern branch of Red River. The False Washita, or _Rio Negro_, as
the Mexicans call it, has its rise, as he assured me, between the
Canadian and this cañada, at no great distance of the southeastward of
where we were then travelling.
On the 15th, our Comanche guide, being fearful lest we should find no
water upon the plain, advised us to pursue a more northwardly course,
so that, after a hard day's ride, we again descended the _ceja_ or
brow of the Llano Estacado, into the undulating lands which border the
Canadian; and, on the following day, we found ourselves upon the
southern bank of that stream.
Although, but a few days' travel above where we now were, the Canadian
runs pent up in a narrow channel, scarcely four rods across, we here
found it spread out to the width of from three to six hundred yards,
and so full of sand-bars (only interspersed with narrow rills) as to
present the appearance of a mere sandy valley instead of the bed of a
river. In fact, during the driest seasons, the water wholly disappears
in many places. Captain Boone, of the U. S. Dragoons, being upon an
exploring expedition [Pg213] in the summer of 1843, came to the
Canadian about the region of our western boundary, where he found the
channel perfectly dry.[132] Notwithstanding {148} it presents the face
of one of the greatest rivers of the west during freshets, yet even
then it would not be navigable on account of its rapidity and
shallowness. It would appear almost incredible to those unacquainted
with the prairie streams, that a river of about 1500 miles in length,
and whose head wears a cap of perennial snow (having its source in the
Rocky Mountains), should scarcely be navigable, for even the smallest
craft, over fifty miles above its mouth.
We pursued our course down the same side of the river for several
days, during which time we crossed a multitude of little streams which
flowed into the Canadian from the adjoining plains, while others
presented nothing but dry beds of sand. One of these was so
remarkable, on account of its peculiarity and size, that we named it
'Dry River.' The bed was at least 200 yards wide, yet without a
vestige of water; notwithstanding, our guide assured us that it was a
brisk-flowing stream some leagues above: and from the drift-wood along
its borders, it was evident that, even here, it must be a considerable
river during freshets.[133]
While traveling down the course of the Canadian, we sometimes found
the buffalo very abundant. On one [Pg214] occasion, two or three
hunters, who were a little in advance of the caravan, perceiving a
herd quietly grazing in an open glade, they 'crawled upon' them after
the manner of the 'still hunters.' Their first shot having brought
down a fine {149} fat cow, they slipped up behind her, and, resting
their guns over her body, shot two or three others, without
occasioning any serious disturbance or surprise to their companions;
for, extraordinary as it may appear, if the buffalo neither see nor
smell the hunter, they will pay but little attention to the crack of
guns, or to the mortality which is being dealt among them.
The slaughter of these animals is frequently carried to an excess,
which shows the depravity of the human heart in very bold relief. Such
is the excitement that generally prevails at the sight of these fat
denizens of the prairies, that very few hunters appear able to refrain
from shooting as long as the game remains within reach of their
rifles; nor can they ever permit a fair shot to escape them. Whether
the mere pleasure of taking life is {150} the incentive of these
brutal excesses, I will not pretend to decide; but one thing is very
certain, that the buffalo killed yearly on these prairies far exceeds
the wants of the traveller, or what might be looked upon as the
exigencies of rational sport.[134]
But in making these observations, I regret that I cannot give to my
precepts the force of my own example: I have not always been able
wholly to withstand the cruel temptation. Not long after the incident
above alluded to, as I was pioneering alone, according to my usual
practice, at a distance of a mile or two ahead of the wagons, in
search of the best route, I perceived in a glade, a few rods in front
[Pg215] of me, several protuberances, which at first occasioned me no
little fright, for I took them, as they loomed dimly through the tall
grass, for the tops of Indian lodges. But I soon discovered they were
the huge humps of a herd of buffalo, which were quietly grazing.
I immediately alighted, and approached unobserved to within forty or
fifty yards of the unsuspecting animals. Being armed with one of
Cochran's nine-chambered rifles, I took aim at one that stood
broad-side, and 'blazed away.' The buffalo threw up their heads and
looked about, but seeing nothing (for I remained concealed in the
grass), they again {151} went on grazing as though nothing had
happened. The truth is, the one I had shot was perhaps but little
hurt; for, as generally happens with the inexperienced hunter--and
often with those who know better, the first excitement allowing no
time for reflection--I no doubt aimed too high, so as to lodge the
ball in the hump. A buffalo's heart lies exceedingly low, so that to
strike it the shot should enter not over one-fourth of the depth of
the body above the lower edge of the breast bone.
The brutes were no sooner quiet, than I took another and more
deliberate aim at my former victim, which resulted as before. But
believing him now mortally wounded, I next fired in quick succession
at four others of the gang. It occurred to me, by this time, that I
had better save my remaining three shots; for it was possible enough
for my firing to attract the attention of strolling savages, who might
take advantage of my empty gun to make a sortie upon me--yet there
stood my buffalo, some of them still quietly feeding.
As I walked out from my concealment, a party of our own men came
galloping up from the wagons, considerably alarmed. They had heard the
six shots, and, not recollecting my repeating rifle, supposed I had
been attacked [Pg216] by Indians, and therefore came to my relief.
Upon their approach the buffalo all fled, except three which appeared
badly wounded--one indeed soon fell and expired. The other two would
doubtless have followed {152} the example of the first, had not a
hunter, anxious to dispatch them more speedily, approached too near;
when, regaining strength from the excitement, they fled before him,
and entirely escaped, though he pursued them for a considerable
distance.
A few days after this occurrence, Mr. Wethered returned to the camp
one evening with seven buffalo tongues (the hunter's usual trophy)
swung to his saddle. He said that, in the morning, one of the hunters
had ungenerously objected to sharing a buffalo with him; whereupon Mr.
W. set out, vowing he would kill buffalo for himself, and 'no thanks
to any one.' He had not been out long when he spied a herd of only
seven bulls, quietly feeding near a ravine; and slipping up behind the
banks, he shot down one and then another, until they all lay before
him; and their seven tongues he brought in to bear testimony of his
skill.
Not long after crossing Dry River, we ascended the high grounds, and
soon found ourselves upon the high ridge which divides the waters of
the Canadian and False Washita, whose 'breaks' could be traced
descending from the Llano Estacado far to the southwest.
By an observation of an eclipse of one of Jupiter's satellites, on the
night of the 25th of March, in latitude 35° 51′ 30″, I found that we
were very near the 100th degree of longitude west from Greenwich. On
the following day, therefore, we celebrated our entrance into the
United States territory. Those who {153} have never been beyond the
purlieus of the land of their nativity, can form but a poor conception
of the joy which the wanderer in distant climes [Pg217] experiences
on treading once more upon his own native soil! Although we were yet
far from the abodes of civilization, and further still from home,
nevertheless the heart within us thrilled with exhilarating
sensations; for we were again in our own territory, breathed our own
free atmosphere, and were fairly out of reach of the arbitrary power
which we had left behind us.
As we continued our route upon this narrow dividing ridge, we could
not help remarking how nearly these streams approach each other: in
one place they seemed scarcely five miles apart. On this account our
Comanche guide, as well as several Mexicans of our party, who had some
acquaintance with these prairies, gave it as their opinion that the
Washita or _Rio Negro_ was in fact a branch of the Canadian; for its
confluence with Red River was beyond the bounds of their
peregrinations.
As the forest of Cross Timbers was now beginning to be seen in the
distance, and fearing we might be troubled to find a passway through
this brushy region, south of the Canadian, we forded this river on the
29th, without the slightest trouble, and very soon entered our former
trail, a little west of Spring Valley. This gave a new and joyful
impulse to our spirits; for we had been travelling over twenty days
without even a trail, {154} and through a region of which we knew
absolutely nothing, except from what we could gather from our Comanche
pilot. This trail, which our wagons had made the previous summer, was
still visible, and henceforth there was an end to all misgivings.
If we take a retrospective view of the country over which we
travelled, we shall find but little that can ever present attractions
to the agriculturist. Most of the low valleys of the Canadian, for a
distance of five hundred miles, are either too sandy or too marshy for
cultivation; and the upland prairies are, in many places, but little
else than [Pg218] sand-hills. In some parts, it is true, they are
firm and fertile, but wholly destitute of timber, with the exception
of a diminutive branch of the Cross Timbers, which occupies a portion
of the ridge betwixt the Canadian and the North Fork. The Canadian
river itself is still more bare of timber than the upper Arkansas. In
its whole course through the plains, there is but little except
cottonwood, and that very scantily scattered along its banks--in some
places, for leagues together, not a stick is to be seen. Except it be
near the Mountains, where the valleys are more fertile, it is only the
little narrow bottoms which skirt many of its tributary rivulets that
indicate any amenity. Some of these are rich and beautiful in the
extreme, timbered with walnut, mulberry, oak, elm, hackberry, and
occasionally cedar about the bluffs.
We now continued our journey without encountering any further
casualty, except in {155} crossing the Arkansas river, where we lost
several mules by drowning; and on the 22d of April we made our
entrance into Van Buren. This trip was much more tedious and
protracted than I had contemplated--owing, in the first part of the
journey, to the inclemency of the season, and a want of pasturage for
our animals; and, towards the conclusion, to the frequent rains, which
kept the route in a miserable condition.
Concerning this expedition, I have only one or two more remarks to
offer. As regards the two different routes to Santa Fé, although
Missouri, for various reasons which it is needless to explain here,
can doubtless retain the monopoly of the Santa Fé trade, the route
from Arkansas possesses many advantages. Besides its being some days'
travel shorter,[135] it is less intersected with large streams; there
are fewer sandy stretches, and a greater variety of [Pg219]
wood-skirted brooks, affording throughout the journey very agreeable
camping-places. Also, as the grass springs up nearly a month earlier
than in Upper Missouri, caravans could start much sooner, and the
proprietors would have double the time to conduct their mercantile
transactions. Moreover, the return companies would find better
pasturage on their way back, and reach their homes before the season
of frost had far advanced. Again, such as should desire to engage in
the 'stock {156} trade' would at once bring their mules and horses
into a more congenial climate--one more in accordance with that of
their nativity; for the rigorous winters of Missouri often prove fatal
to the unacclimated Mexican animals.
This was my last trip across the Plains, though I made an excursion,
during the following summer, among the Comanche Indians, and other
wild tribes, living in the heart of the Prairies, but returned without
crossing to Mexico. The observations made during this trip will be
found incorporated in the notices, which are to follow, of the
Prairies and their inhabitants.
Since that time I have striven in vain to reconcile myself to the even
tenor of civilized life in the United States; and have sought in its
amusements and its society a substitute for those high excitements
which have attached me so strongly to Prairie life. Yet I am almost
ashamed to confess that scarcely a day passes without my experiencing
a pang of regret that I am not now roving at large upon those western
plains. Nor do I find my taste peculiar; for I have hardly known a
man, who has ever become familiar with the kind of life which I have
led for so many years, that has not relinquished it with regret.
There is more than one way of explaining this apparent incongruity. In
the first place--the wild, unsettled and independent life of the
Prairie trader, makes perfect freedom [Pg220] from nearly every kind
of social dependence an absolute necessity of his being. He is in
{157} daily, nay, hourly exposure of his life and property, and in the
habit of relying upon his own arm and his own gun both for protection
and support. Is he wronged? No court or jury is called to adjudicate
upon his disputes or his abuses, save his own conscience; and no
powers are invoked to redress them, save those with which the God of
Nature has endowed him. He knows no government--no laws, save those of
his own creation and adoption. He lives in no society which he must
look up to or propitiate. The exchange of this untrammelled
condition--this sovereign independence, for a life in civilization,
where both his physical and moral freedom are invaded at every turn,
by the complicated machinery of social institutions, is certainly
likely to commend itself to but few,--not even to all those who have
been educated to find their enjoyments in the arts and elegancies
peculiar to civilized society;--as is evinced by the frequent
instances of men of letters, of refinement and of wealth, voluntarily
abandoning society for a life upon the Prairies, or in the still more
savage mountain wilds.
A 'tour on the Prairies' is certainly a _dangerous_ experiment for him
who would live a quiet contented life at home among his friends and
relatives: not so dangerous to life or health, as prejudicial to his
domestic habits. Those who have lived pent up in our large cities,
know but little of the broad, unembarrassed freedom of the Great
Western Prairies. {158} Viewing them from a snug fire-side, they seem
crowded with dangers, with labors and with sufferings; but once upon
them, and these appear to vanish--they are soon forgotten.
There is another consideration, which, with most men of the Prairies,
operates seriously against their reconciliation to the habits of
civilized life. Though they be [Pg221] endowed naturally with the
organs of taste and refinement, and though once familiar with the ways
and practices of civilized communities, yet a long absence from such
society generally obliterates from their minds most of those common
laws of social intercourse, which are so necessary to the man of the
world. The awkwardness and the _gaucheries_ which ignorance of their
details so often involves, are very trying to all men of sensitive
temperaments. Consequently, multitudes rush back to the Prairies,
merely to escape those criticisms and that ridicule, which they know
not how to disarm.
It will hardly be a matter of surprise then, when I add, that this
passion for Prairie life, how paradoxical soever it may seem, will be
very apt to lead me upon the Plains again, to spread my bed with the
mustang and the buffalo, under the broad canopy of heaven,--there to
seek to maintain undisturbed my confidence in men, by fraternizing
with the little prairie dogs and wild colts, and the still wilder
Indians--the _unconquered Sabæans_ of the Great American Deserts.
FOOTNOTES:
[130] Manuel _el Comanche_ was a full Indian, born and bred upon the
great prairies. Long after having arrived at the state of manhood, he
accompanied some Mexican _Comancheros_ to the frontier village of San
Miguel, where he fell in love with a Mexican girl--married her--and
has lived in that place, a sober, 'civilized' citizen for the last ten
or twelve years--endowed with much more goodness of heart and
integrity of purpose than a majority of his Mexican neighbors. He had
learned to speak Spanish quite intelligibly, and was therefore an
excellent Comanche interpreter: and being familiar with every part of
the prairies, he was very serviceable as a guide.--GREGG.
[131] Laguna Colorada is in the northeastern part of what is now Quay
County, New Mexico, about twelve miles west of Tucumcari Mount.
General Hugh McLeod was born in New York in 1814. Graduated at West
Point, he resigned from the army to offer his services to the Texans
in their struggle for independence. He also commanded in a campaign
against the Cherokee in 1839. After the unfortunate Texan-Santa Fé
expedition, McLeod was imprisoned in Mexico for about a year, and
finally released at the request of the United States government. He
served throughout the Mexican War, and joining the Confederate army in
1861 died in Virginia the following year.
Colonel Juan Andrés Archuleta, to whom McLeod surrendered, was not the
Archuleta who conspired against the United States in 1846-47.--ED.
[132] Nathan Boone was the youngest son of the noted pioneer Daniel.
Born in Kentucky in 1780, he emigrated to Missouri late in the
eighteenth century, and distinguished himself in frontier service
during the War of 1812-15. He made his home in St. Charles County,
Missouri, and built therein the first stone house, in which his father
died in 1820. The younger Boone entered the regular army in 1832, as
captain of rangers; the following year saw him in command of a company
of the 1st dragoons, with whom he saw much frontier service. In 1847
he received his majoralty, and in 1850 became lieutenant-colonel.
Three years later, he resigned from the army, dying at his home in
Green County, Missouri, in 1857.--ED.
[133] Dry River is not laid down on current modern maps. It is in
northwestern Texas, apparently near the line of the Atchison, Topeka
and Santa Fé Railway, in Roberts and Hemphill counties. See our volume
XVI, p. 130, note 61; also map 2 in _Senate Docs._, 31 cong., 1 sess.,
12.--ED.
[134] The same barbarous propensity is observable in regard to wild
horses. Most persons appear unable to restrain this wanton inclination
to take life, when a mustang approaches within rifle-shot. Many a
stately steed thus falls a victim to the cruelty of man.--GREGG.
[135] The latitude of Independence, Mo., is 39° 8′, while that of Van
Buren is 35° 26′,--within a few miles of the parallel of Santa Fé: and
being on about the same meridian as Independence, the distance, of
course, is considerably shorter.--GREGG.