America,—as wild, waste, and inhospitable as the famed Sahara of Africa.
These deserts occupy a large portion of the central regions of that
great continent—extending, north and south, from Mexico to the shores of
the Arctic Sea; and east and west for several hundred miles, on each
side of the great vertebral chain of the Rocky Mountains. It is true
that in the vast territory thus indicated, the desert is not continuous;
but it is equally true that the fertile stripes or valleys that
intersect it, bear but a very small proportion to the whole surface.
Many tracts are there, of larger area than all the British Islands,
where the desert is scarce varied by an oasis, and where the very rivers
pursue their course amidst rocks and barren sands, without a blade of
vegetation on their banks. Usually, however, a narrow selvage of
green—caused by the growth of cottonwoods, willows, and a few humbler
plants—denotes the course of a stream,—a glad sight at all times to the
weary and thirsting traveller.
These desert wastes are not all alike, but differ much in character. In
one point only do they agree,—they are all _deserts_. Otherwise they
exhibit many varieties,—both of aspect and nature. Some of them are
level plains, with scarce a hill to break the monotony of the view: and
of this character is the greater portion of the desert country extending
eastward from the Rocky Mountains to about 100° of west longitude. At
this point the soil gradually becomes more fertile,—assuming the
character of timbered tracts, with prairie opening between,—at length
terminating in the vast, unbroken forests of the Mississippi.
This eastern desert extends parallel with the Rocky
Mountains,—throughout nearly the whole of their length,—from the Rio
Grande in Mexico, northward to the Mackenzie River. One tract of it
deserves particular mention. It is that known as the _Llano estacado_,
or “staked plain.” It lies in Northwestern Texas, and consists of a
barren plateau, of several thousand square miles in extent, the surface
of which is raised nearly a thousand feet above the level of the
surrounding plains. Geologists have endeavored to account for this
singular formation, but in vain. The table-like elevation of the Llano
estacado still remains a puzzle. Its name, however, is easier of
explanation. In the days of Spanish supremacy over this part of
Prairie-land, caravans frequently journeyed from Santa Fé in New Mexico,
to San Antonio in Texas. The most direct route between these two
provincial capitals lay across the Llano estacado; but as there were
neither mountains nor other landmarks to guide the traveller, he often
wandered from the right path,—a mistake that frequently ended in the
most terrible suffering from thirst, and very often in the loss of life.
To prevent such catastrophes, _stakes_ were set up at such intervals as
to be seen from one another, like so many “telegraph posts;” and
although these have long since disappeared, the great plain still bears
the name, given to it from this circumstance.
Besides the contour of surface, there are other respects in which the
desert tracts of North America differ from one another. In their
vegetation—if it deserves the name—they are unlike. Some have no
vegetation whatever; but exhibit a surface of pure sand, or sand and
pebbles; others are covered with a stratum of soda, of snow-white color,
and still others with a layer of common salt, equally white and pure.
Many of these salt and soda “prairies”—as the trappers term them—are
hundreds of square miles in extent. Again, there are deserts of scoria,
of lava, and pumice-stone,—the “cut-rock prairies” of the trappers,—a
perfect contrast in color to the above mentioned. All these are
absolutely without vegetation of any sort.
On some of the wastes—those of southern latitudes,—the cactus appears of
several species, and also the wild agave, or “pita” plant; but these
plants are in reality but emblems of the desert itself. So, also, is the
_yucca_, which thinly stands over many of the great plains, in the
southwestern part of the desert region,—its stiff, shaggy foliage in no
way relieving the sterile landscape, but rather rendering its aspect
more horrid and austere.
Again, there are the deserts known as “chapparals,”—extensive jungles of
brush and low trees, all of a thorny character, among which the
“mezquite” of several species (_mimosas_ and _acacias_), the
“stink-wood” or creosote plant (_kœberlinia_), the “grease-bush”
(_obiona canescens_), several kinds of _prosopis_, and now and then, as
if to gratify the eye of the tired traveller, the tall flowering spike
of the scarlet _fouquiera_. Further to the north—especially throughout
the upper section of the Great Salt Lake territory—are vast tracts, upon
which scarce any vegetation appears, except the _artemisia_ plant, and
other kindred products of a sterile soil.
Of all the desert tracts upon the North-American continent, perhaps none
possesses greater interest for the student of cosmography than that
known as the “Great Basin.” It has been so styled from the fact of its
possessing a hydrographic system of its own,—lakes and rivers that have
no communication with the sea; but whose waters spend themselves within
the limits of the desert itself, and are kept in equilibrium by
evaporation,—as is the case with many water systems of the continents of
the Old World, both in Asia and Africa.
The largest lake of the “Basin” is the “Great Salt Lake,”—of late so
celebrated in Mormon story: since near its southern shore the chief city
of the “Latter-day Saints” is situated. But there are other large lakes
within the limits of the Great Basin, both fresh and saline,—most of
them entirely unconnected with the Great Salt Lake, and some of them
having a complete system of waters of their own. There are “Utah” and
“Humboldt,” “Walker’s” and “Pyramid” lakes, with a long list of others,
whose names have been but recently entered upon the map, by the numerous
very intelligent explorers employed by the government of the United
States.
Large rivers, too, run in all directions through this central desert,
some of them falling into the Great Salt Lake, as the “Bear” river, the
“Weber,” the “Utah,” from Utah Lake,—upon which the Mormon metropolis
stands,—and which stream has been absurdly baptized by these free-living
fanatics as the “Jordan!” Other rivers are the “Timpanogos,” emptying
into Lake Utah; the “Humboldt,” that runs to the lake of that name; the
“Carson” river; besides many of lesser note.
The limits assigned to the Great Basin are tolerably well defined. Its
western rim is the _Sierra Nevada_, or “snowy range” of California;
while the Rocky and Wahsatch mountains are its boundaries on the east.
Several cross-ranges, and spurs of ranges, separate it from the system
of waters that empty northward into the Columbia River of Oregon; while
upon its southern edge there is a more indefinite “divide” between it
and the great desert region of the western “Colorado.” Strictly
speaking, the desert of the Great Basin might be regarded as only a
portion of that vast tract of sterile, and almost treeless soil, which
stretches from the Mexican state of Sonora to the upper waters of
Oregon; but the deserts of the Colorado on the south, and those of the
“forks” of the Columbia on the north, are generally treated as distinct
territories; and the Great Basin, with the limits already assigned, is
suffered to stand by itself. As a separate country, then, we shall here
consider it.
From its name, you might fancy that the Great Basin was a low-lying
tract of country. This, however, is far from being the case. On the
contrary, nearly all of it is of the nature of an elevated table-land,
even its lakes lying several thousand feet above the level of the sea.
It is only by its “rim,” of still more elevated mountain ridges, that it
can lay claim to be considered as a “basin;” but, indeed, the name—given
by the somewhat speculative explorer, Fremont—is not very appropriate,
since later investigations show that this rim is in many places neither
definite nor regular,—especially on its northern and southern sides,
where the “Great Basin” may be said to be badly cracked, and even to
have some pieces chipped out of its edge.
Besides the mountain chains that surround it, many others run into and
intersect it in all directions. Some are spurs of the main ranges; while
others form “sierras”—as the Spaniards term them—distinct in themselves.
These sierras are of all shapes and of every altitude,—from the
low-lying ridge scarce rising above the plain, to peaks and summits of
over ten thousand feet in elevation. Their forms are as varied as their
height. Some are round or dome-shaped; others shoot up little turrets or
“needles”; and still others mount into the sky in shapeless masses,—as
if they had been flung upon the earth, and upon one another, in some
struggle of Titans, who have left them lying in chaotic confusion. A
very singular mountain form is hero observed,—though it is not peculiar
to this region since it is found elsewhere, beyond the limits of the
Great Basin, and is also common in many parts of Africa. This is the
formation known among the Spaniards as _mesas_, or “table-mountains,”
and by this very name it is distinguished among the colonists of the
Cape.
The _Llano estacado_, already mentioned, is often styled a “mesa,” but
its elevation is inconsiderable when compared with the _mesa_ mountains
that occur in the regions west of the great Rocky chain,—both in the
Basin and on the deserts of the Colorado. Many of these are of great
height,—rising several thousand feet above the general level; and, with
their square truncated _table-like_ tops, lend a peculiar character to
the landscape.
The characteristic vegetation of the Great Basin is very similar to that
of the other central regions of the North-American continent. Only near
the banks of the rivers and some of the fresh-water lakes, is there any
evidence of a fertile soil; and even in these situations the timber is
usually scarce and stunted. Of course, there are tracts that are
exceptional,—oases, as they are geographically styled. Of this character
is the country of the Mormons on the Jordan, their settlements on the
Utah and Bear Rivers, in Tuilla and Ogden valleys, and elsewhere at more
remote points. There are also isolated tracts on the banks of the
smaller streams and the shores of lakes not yet “located” by the
colonist; and only frequented by the original dwellers of the desert,
the red aborigines. In these oases are usually found cottonwood-trees,
of several distinct species,—one or other of which is the characteristic
vegetation on nearly every stream from the Mississippi to the mountains
of California.
Willows of many species also appear; and now and then, in stunted forms,
the oak, the elm, maples, and sycamores. But all these last are very
rarely encountered within the limits of the desert region. On the
mountain, and more frequently in the mountain ravines pines of many
species—some of which produce edible cones—grow in such numbers as to
merit the name of forests, of greater or less extent. Among these, or
apart from them, may be distinguished the darker foliage of the cedar
(_juniperus_) of several varieties, distinct from the _juniperus
virginiana_ of the States.
The arid plains are generally without the semblance of vegetation. When
any appears upon them, it is of the character of the “chapparal,”
already described; its principal growth being “tornilla,” or
“screw-wood,” and other varieties of _mezquite_; all of them species of
the extensive order of the _leguminosæ_, and belonging to the several
genera of _acacias_, _mimosas_, and _robinias_. In many places _cactacæ_
appear of an endless variety of forms; and some,—as the “pitahaya”
(_cereus giganteus_), and the “tree” and “cochineal” cacti
(_opuntias_),—of gigantesque proportions. These, however, are only
developed to their full size in the regions further south,—on the
deserts of the Colorado and Gila,—where also the “tree yuccas” abound,
covering tracts of large extent, and presenting the appearance of
forests of palms.
Perhaps the most characteristic vegetation of the Great Basin—that is,
if it deserve the name of a vegetation—is the wild sage, or _artemisia_.
With this plant vast plains are covered, as far as the eye can reach;
not presenting a hue of green, as the grass prairies do, but a uniform
aspect of grayish white, as monotonous as if the earth were without a
leaf to cover it. Instead of relieving the eye of the traveller, the
artemisia rather adds to the dreariness of a desert landscape,—for its
presence promises food neither to man nor horse, not water for them to
drink, but indicates the absence of both. Upon the hill-sides also is it
seen, along the sloping declivities of the sierras, marbling the dark
volcanic rocks with its hoary frondage.
More than one species of this wild sage occurs throughout the American
desert: there are four or five kinds, differing very considerably from
each other, and known to the trappers by such names as “worm wood,”
“grease-bush,” “stink-plant,” and “rabbit-bush.” Some of the species
attain to a considerable height,—their tops often rising above the head
of the traveller on horseback,—while another kind scarce reaches the
knee of the pedestrian.
In some places the plains are so thickly covered with this vegetation,
that it is difficult for either man or horse to make way through
them,—the gnarled and crooked branches twisting into each other and
forming an impenetrable wattle. At other places, and especially where
the larger species grow, the plants stand apart like apple-trees in an
orchard, and bear a considerable resemblance to shrubs or small trees.
Both man and horse refuse the artemisia as food; and so, too, the less
fastidious mule. Even a donkey will not eat it. There are animals,
however,—both birds and beasts, as will be seen hereafter,—that relish
the sage-plant; and not only eat of it, but subsist almost exclusively
on its stalks, leaves, and berries.
The denizens of the Great Basin desert—I mean its human denizens—are
comprehended in two great families of the aboriginal race,—the _Utahs_
and _Snakes_, or _Shoshonees_. Of the white inhabitants—the Mormons and
trap-settlers—we have nothing to say here. Nor yet much respecting the
above-mentioned Indians, the Utahs and Snakes. It will be enough for our
purpose to make known that these two tribes are distinct from each
other,—that there are many communities or sub-tribes of both,—that each
claims ownership of a large tract of the central region, lying between
the Rocky Mountains and the Sierra Nevada; and that their limits are not
coterminal with those of the Great Basin: since the range of the Snakes
extends into Oregon upon the north, while that of the Utahs runs down
into the valley of the Rio del Norte upon the south. Furthermore, that
both are in possession of the horse,—the Utahs owning large
numbers,—that both are of roving and predatory habits, and quite as
wicked and warlike as the generality of their red brethren.
They are also as well to do in the world as most Indians; but there are
many degrees in their “civilization,” or rather in the comforts of their
life, depending upon the situation in which they may be placed. When
dwelling upon a good “salmon-stream,” or among the rocky mountain
“parks,” that abound in game, they manage to pass a portion of the year
in luxuriant abundance. In other places, however, and at other times,
their existence is irksome enough,—often bordering upon actual
starvation.
It may be further observed, that the Utahs and Snakes usually occupy the
larger and more fertile oases of the desert,—wherever a tract is found
of sufficient size to subsist a community. With this observation I shall
dismiss both these tribes; for it is not of them that our present sketch
is intended to treat.
This is specially designed for a far _odder_ people than either,—for the
_Yamparicos_, or “Root-Diggers;” and having described their country, I
shall now proceed to give some account of themselves.
It may be necessary here to remark that the name “Diggers,” has of late
been very improperly applied,—not only by the settlers of California,
but by some of the exploring officers of the United States government.
Every tribe or community throughout the desert, found existing in a
state of special wretchedness, has been so styled; and a learned
ethnologist (!), writing in the “Examiner,” newspaper, gravely explains
the name, by deriving it from the gold-diggers of California! This
“conceit” of the London editor is a palpable absurdity,—since the Digger
Indians were so designated, long before the first gold-digger of
California put spade into its soil. The name is of “trapper” origin;
bestowed upon these people from the observation of one of their most
common practices,—viz., the _digging for roots_, which form an essential
portion of their subsistence. The term “yamparico,” is from a Spanish
source, and has a very similar meaning to that of “Root-digger.” It is
literally “Yampa-rooter,” or “Yampa-root eater,” the root of the
“yampah” (_anethum graviolens_) being their favorite food. The true
“Diggers” are not found in California west of the Sierra Nevada; though
certain tribes of ill-used Indians in that quarter are called by the
name. The great deserts extending between the Nevada and the Rocky
Mountains are their locality; and their limits are more or less
cotemporaneous with those of the Shoshonees or Snakes, and the Utahs,—of
both of which tribes they are supposed to be a sort of outcast kindred.
This hypothesis, however, rests only on a slight foundation: that of
some resemblance in habits and language, which are very uncertain
_criteria_ where two people dwell within the same boundaries,—as, for
instance, the whites and blacks in Virginia. In fact, the language of
the Diggers can scarce be called a language at all: being a sort of
gibberish like the growling of a dog, eked out by a copious vocabulary
of signs: and perhaps, here and there, by an odd word from the Shoshonee
or Utah,—not unlikely, introduced by the association of the Diggers with
these last-mentioned tribes.
In the western and southern division of the Great Basin, the
Digger exists under the name of _Paiute_, or more properly,
_Pah-Utah_,—so-called from his supposed relationship with the tribe of
the Utahs. In some respects the Pah-Utahs differ from the Shoshokee, or
Snake-Diggers; though in most of their characteristic habits they are
very similar to each other. There might be no anomaly committed by
considering them as one people; for in personal appearance and habits of
life the Pah-Utah, and the “Shoshokee”—this last is the national
appellation of the yampah-eater,—are as like each other as _eggs_. We
shall here speak however, principally of the Shoshokees: leaving it to
be understood, that their neighbors the “Paiutes” will equally answer
the description.
Although the Shoshokees, as already observed, dwell within the same
limits as their supposed kindred the Shoshonees, they rarely or never
associate with the latter. On the contrary, they keep well out of their
way,—inhabiting only those districts of country where the larger
Shoshonee communities could not dwell. The very smallest oasis, or the
tiniest stream, affords all the fertility that is required for the
support of a Digger family; and rarely are these people found living
more than one, or at most, two or three families together. The very
necessity of their circumstances precludes the possibility of a more
extensive association; for on the deserts where they dwell, neither the
earth nor the air, nor yet the water, affords a sufficient supply of
food to support even the smallest “tribe.” Not in tribes, then, but in
single families, or little groups of two or three, do the Digger Indians
dwell,—not in the larger and more fertile valleys, but in those small
and secluded; in the midst of the sage-plains, or more frequently in the
rocky defiles of the mountains that stand thickly over the “Basin.”
The Shoshokee is no _nomade_, but the very reverse. A single and
isolated mountain is often the abode of his group or family; and beyond
this his wanderings extend not. There he is at home, knowing every nook
and rat-hole in his own neighborhood; but as ignorant of the world
beyond as the “sand-rats” themselves,—whose pursuit occupies the greater
portion of his time.
In respect to his “settled” mode of life, the _Shoshokee_ offers a
striking contrast to the _Shoshonee_. Many of the latter are Indians of
noble type,—warriors who have tamed the horse, and who extend their
incursions, both hunting and hostile, into the very heart of the Rocky
Mountains,—up their fertile valleys, and across their splendid “parks,”
often bringing back with them the scalps of the savage and redoubtable
Blackfeet.
Far different is the character of the wretched Shoshokeee,—the mere
semblance of a human being,—who rarely strays out of the ravine in which
he was brought forth; and who, at sight of a human face—be it of friend
or enemy—flies to his crag or cave like a hunted beast!
The Pah-Utah Diggers, however, are of a more warlike disposition; or
rather a more wicked and hostile one,—hostile to whites, or even to such
other Indians as may have occasion to travel through the deserts they
inhabit. These people are found scattered throughout the whole southern
and southwestern portion of the Great Basin,—and also in the
northwestern part of the Colorado desert,—especially about the Sevier
River, and on several of the tributaries of the great Colorado itself of
the west. It was through this part of the country that the caravans from
California to New Mexico used to make their annual “trips,”—long before
Alta Calafornia became a possession of the United States,—and the route
by which they travelled is known as the _Spanish trail_. The object of
these caravans was the import of horses, mules, and other animals,—from
the fertile valleys of the San Joaquin and Sacramento rivers, to the
more sterile settlements of New Mexico. Several kinds of goods were also
carried into these interior countries.
This Spanish trail was far from running in a direct line. The sandy,
waterless plain—known more particularly as the Colorado desert—could not
be crossed with safety, and the caravan-route was forced far to the
north; and entered within the limits of the Great Basin—thus bringing it
through the county inhabited by the Pah-Utah Diggers. The consequence
was, that these savages looked out annually for its arrival; and,
whenever an opportunity offered, stole the animals that accompanied it,
or murdered any of the men who might be found straggling from the main
body. When bent on such purposes, these Diggers for a time threw aside
their solitary habits,—assembling in large bands of several hundred
each, and following the caravan travellers, like wolves upon the track
of a gang of buffaloes. They never made their attacks upon the main
body, or when the white men were in any considerable force. Only small
groups who had lagged behind, or gone too rashly in advance, had to fear
from these merciless marauders,—who never thought of such a thing as
making captives, but murdered indiscriminately all who fell into their
hands. When horses or mules were captured, it was never done with the
intention of keeping them to ride upon. Scarcely ever do the Pah-Utahs
make such a use of the horse. Only for food were these stolen or
plundered from their owners; and when a booty of this kind was obtained,
the animals were driven to some remote defile among the mountains, and
there slaughtered outright. So long as a morsel of horse or mule flesh
remained upon the bones, the Diggers kept up a scene of feasting and
merriment—precisely similar to the _carnivals_ of the African Bushmen,
after a successful foray upon the cattle of the Dutch settlers near the
Cape. Indeed there is such a very striking resemblance between the
Bushmen of Africa and these Digger Indians of North America; that, were
it not for the distinction of race, and some slight differences in
personal appearance, they might pass as one people. In nearly every
habit and custom, the two people resemble each other; and in many mental
characteristics they appear truly identical.