No climate could be more congenial to a full flow of animal spirits,
than this region, where, upon the vegetation of the rich black
soil--often twenty feet deep--game of the better class in great
abundance found support. Deer in no part of the world was ever more
plenty, and elk and antelope bounded through the old oak groves, as they
may have done in Eden.
Carson had many opportunities of exploring the country, which he gladly
embraced, and thus became familiar with many localities, the knowledge
of which was in after years of such essential service to him and others.
There were many large tribes of Indians scattered through this country,
in these and smaller valleys, beside those which the missions had
attached to them. We know not that any record has been kept of the names
of these tribes and their numbers; but since the white men intruded,
they have melted away as did earlier those east of the Mississippi.
These Indians were all of the variety called Diggers, but in better
condition than we see them, since the small remnants of large tribes
have adopted the vices of the white men, and learned improvidence, by
sometimes having plenty without much toil; so that they can say to-day,
"No deer, no acorn; white man come! poor Indian hungry," as the happiest
style of begging.
A brief description of the Tlamath or Digger Indians, and their mode of
living, may not now be out of place, and having been visited by Carson
in his earlier years, may not be uninteresting. We quote from the
language of one who has paid a recent visit to the tribe:
"There were a dozen wigwams for the nearly hundred that composed the
tribe, one of which was much larger than the rest, and in the centre of
the group, the temple, or "medicine lodge." As we entered, the bones of
game consumed, and other offal lay about; and to our inquiry why they
did not clear away and be more tidy, only a grunt was returned. The men
had gone fishing, said the Indian woman we addressed, so we saw but two
or three; but in one wigwam which we entered there were fourteen with
ourselves--the rest, besides the boy who went before to announce us,
were women and children.
"We ascended a mound of earth, as it seemed, about six feet high, and
through a circular hole, perhaps two feet and a half in diameter,
descended a perpendicular ladder about ten feet. This opening, through
which we entered, performed the double office of door and window to the
space below, which was circular, about fourteen feet across, with
arrangements for sleeping, like berths in a steamboat, one over another,
on two sides, suspended by tying with bark a rough stick to upright
posts, which served to hold the sticks that sustained the roof. The
whole was substantially built, the covering being the earth which was
taken from the spot beneath, heaped upon a layer of rushes, the floor of
the wigwam being four feet below the surface of the ground. On the two
sides of the wigwam not occupied by the berths, were barrels filled with
fish--dried salmon, seeds, acorns, and roots.
"On hooks from the rush lined ceiling hung bags and baskets, containing
such luxuries as dried grasshoppers and berries. About the berths hung
deer skins and some skins of other game, seemingly prepared for wear.
There was no appearance of other dress, yet in the berths sat three
women, braiding strips of deer skin, and attaching the braids to a
string, in the form of long fringe. Each of the women wore an apron of
this kind about the waist, and only the dress of nature beside. The
children were dressed '_in puris naturalibus_.'
"After stopping ten minutes, we were glad to ascend to the open air, for
a sickness came over us from which we did not recover for several hours.
How human beings live in such an atmosphere we cannot tell, but this is
the way they habitate.
"When the grasshoppers were abundant, for this insect is one of the
luxuries of the Diggers, they scoured the valley, gathering them in
immense quantities. This is done by first digging holes or pits in the
ground at the spot chosen. Then the whole party of Indians, each with
the leafy branch of a tree, form a circle about it and drive in the
grasshoppers till they heap them upon each other in the pits: water is
then poured in to drown them. Their booty gathered, they proceed to
another place and perform the same operation. These insects are prepared
for food by kindling a fire in one of these pits, and when it is heated,
filling it with them and covering it with a heated stone, where they
are left to bake. They are now ready for use at any time, and eaten with
gusto, or they are powdered, and mixed with the acorn meal in a kind of
bread, which is baked in the ashes."
To return to the camp of trappers, and witness one day's duties, may be
gratifying to the reader. With early dawn the traps are visited, and the
beaver secured. The traps are re-adjusted, and the game brought into
camp--or left to be skinned where it is if the camp is far away.
Meantime breakfast has been prepared by one of the party; others have
looked after the animals, relieving the watch which is still kept up
lest a stampede occur while all are sleeping. Carson could not be cook
for the party constantly, but takes his turn with the rest, and by the
nice browning of his steak, and the delicacy of his acorn coffee, and
the addition to their meal of roasted kamas root, he proves the value of
the apprenticeship of his earlier years. He has a dish of berries, too,
and surprises the party with this tempting dessert, as well as with the
information that in his rambles the day before he had dined with an old
Californian, with his wife and daughters, and had the promise from them
of a cow, if he would call for it on the morrow.
Breakfast over, and the remains put by for lunch at noon, Carson mounts
his pony, and riding a few miles down the bank swims the river, and
dashing out among the hills with a high round mountain peak in view,
still miles away, is lost among the oak groves for a score of miles, and
at length emerges on Susan bay, and doffs his hat and makes his bow to
the young Señorita who greets him at the door with a smile of welcome.
The sun is low; dinner waits--hot bread, and butter, and cheese, and
coffee with sugar, are added to the venison and beef, and Irish and
sweet potatoes. Amid the civilities and pleasant chat, the hour passes
happily, and Carson proposes returning to his party.
The ladies will not allow him to depart. Will he not accept the
hospitality of their mansion for a single night? They do not urge after
one refusal, because his every feature indicates the decision of his
character. He must go. His horse is brought--a young and beautiful
animal--and the cow, this object of his second journey thither, given
him in charge as he mounts, with a rope attached to her horns, by which
to lead her. The full moon is rising, on which he had calculated, as he
told his hostesses, and with words of pleasant compliment, with which
the Spanish language so much more than ours abounds, and a _Buenos
noches, señor_, from his entertainers, and _Buenos noches, señoritas_,
in return, he slowly winds his silent way on and on through the oak
groves and the wild oats covering the hill-sides, hearing only the song
of the owl and the whippoorwill, the music of the insects, and the
whispering leaves, but with ear ever open to detect the stealthy tread
of the monster of the wood and hills--the grizzly bear. Off on the
distant hill he sees one, with a cub following her; but game is plenty,
and deer is good enough food for her. On, on he goes at slow pace, for
he has a delicate charge, and already is she restive from very
weariness, though his pace is slow.
Half his journey is completed as the gray of dawn and the twinkle of the
star of morning relieves the tedium and anxiety of his loneliness. He
has made the circuit of the bay. The river is before him as he descends
the hill which he has ascended for observation. Morning broadens. The
flowers glow with variegated beauty as he tramples them, and in some
patches the odor of the crushed dewy beauties fills the air to satiety.
A few miles more of travel and he crosses the river, and is again in the
river-bottom where the party have taken the beaver. He stops at an
Indian village, and dines from the liberal haunch and the acorn bread
the chief presents, and with good feelings displayed on either side,
takes in his arms a young papoose, the digger's picaninny, and salutes
it with a kiss. Kit leaves there a trifling, but to them, valuable
memorial of his visit, mounts his sorrel which is restive under the slow
gait to which he has restrained him, takes the rope again which secures
his treasure, the cow, and plods towards home at evening. The camp fire
smokes in the distance, while the few horses that remain are staked
about, and the sentinel paces up and down to keep off the drowsiness
induced by fatigue and a hearty meat supper. The eastern and the western
horizon are lighted with pale silver by the departing god of day, and
the approaching goddess of the night, and the still river divides the
plain, bounded only by the horizon, except he look behind him. Such is
the scene as, approaching, the sentinel raises his gun and gives the
challenge to halt. But the rest of the camp are not yet sleeping, and a
dozen voices shout in the still evening a glad welcome to Carson, for
whom they were not concerned, for they well knew there was not one of
the party so well able to take care of himself as he.