one of his daughters of him to bestow upon his son, who the chief
must have heard was also a great brave. The consent of the parent
was readily given. The name of my prospective father-in-law was
Black-lodge. He had three very pretty daughters, whose names were
Still-water, Black-fish, and Three-roads.
Even the untutored daughters of the wild woods need a little time to
prepare for such an important event, but long and tedious courtships
are unknown among them.
The ensuing day the three daughters were brought to my father’s lodge
by their father, and I was requested to take my choice. “Still-water”
was the eldest, and I liked her name; if it was emblematic of her
disposition, she was the woman I should prefer. “Still-water,”
accordingly, was my choice. They were all superbly attired in garments
which must have cost them months of labor, which garments the young
women ever keep in readiness against such an interesting occasion as
the present.
The acceptance of my wife was the completion of the ceremony, and I was
again a married man, as sacredly in their eyes as if the Holy Christian
Church had fastened the irrevocable knot upon us.
Among the Indians, the daughter receives no patrimony on her
wedding-day, and her mother and father never pass a word with the
son-in-law after--a custom religiously observed among them, though for
what reason I never learned. The other relatives are under no such
restraint.
My brothers made me a present of twenty as fine horses as any in the
nation--all trained war-horses. I was also presented with all the arms
and instruments requisite for an Indian campaign.
My wife’s deportment coincided with her name; she would have reflected
honor upon many a civilized household. She was affectionate,
obedient, gentle, cheerful, and, apparently, quite happy. No domestic
thunder-storms, no curtain-lectures ever disturbed the serenity of our
connubial lodge. I speedily formed acquaintance with all my immediate
neighbors, and the Morning Star (which was the name conferred upon me
on my recognition as the lost son) was soon a companion to all the
young warriors in the village. No power on earth could have shaken
their faith in my positive identity with the lost son. Nature seemed
to prompt the old woman to recognize me as her missing child, and
all my new relatives placed implicit faith in the genuineness of her
discovery. Greenwood had spoken it, “and his tongue was not crooked.”
What could I do under the circumstances? Even if I should deny my Crow
origin, they would not believe me. How could I dash with an unwelcome
and incredible explanation all the joy that had been manifested on my
return--the cordial welcome, the rapturous embraces of those who hailed
me as a son and a brother, the exuberant joy of the whole nation for
the return of a long-lost Crow, who, stolen when a child, had returned
in the strength of maturity, graced with the name of a great brave, and
the generous strife I had occasioned in their endeavors to accord me
the warmest welcome? I could not find it in my heart to undeceive these
unsuspecting people and tear myself away from their untutored caresses.
Thus I commenced my Indian life with the Crows. I said to myself, “I
can trap in their streams unmolested, and derive more profit under
their protection than if among my own men, exposed incessantly to
assassination and alarm.” I therefore resolved to abide with them, to
guard my secret, to do my best in their company, and in assisting them
to subdue their enemies.[9]
THE PATHFINDER IN THE HIGH ROCKIES
JOHN C. FRÉMONT
1842
From Frémont’s Journal of the First Expedition.
_August 10._--The air at sunrise is clear and pure, and the morning
extremely cold, but beautiful. A lofty snow peak of the mountain is
glittering in the first rays of the sun, which has not yet reached us.
The long mountain wall to the east, rising two thousand feet abruptly
from the plain, behind which we see the peaks, is still dark, and
cuts clear against the glowing sky. A fog, just risen from the river,
lies along the base of the mountain. A little before sunrise, the
thermometer was at 35°, and at sunrise 33°. Water froze last night, and
fires are very comfortable. The scenery becomes hourly more interesting
and grand, and the view here is truly magnificent; but, indeed, it
needs something to repay the long prairie journey of a thousand miles.
The sun has just shot above the wall, and makes a magical change. The
whole valley is glowing and bright, and all the mountain peaks are
gleaming like silver. Though these snow mountains are not the Alps,
they have their own character of grandeur and magnificence, and will
doubtless find pens and pencils to do them justice. In the scene
before us, we feel how much wood improves a view. The pines on the
mountain seemed to give it much additional beauty. I was agreeably
disappointed in the character of the streams on this side the ridge.
Instead of the creeks, which description had led me to expect, I find
bold, broad streams, with three or four feet of water, and a rapid
current. The fork on which we are encamped is upwards of a hundred
feet wide, timbered with groves or thickets of the low willow. We
were now approaching the loftiest part of the Wind River chain; and
I left the valley a few miles from our encampment, intending to
penetrate the mountains, as far as possible, with the whole party. We
were soon involved in very broken ground, among long ridges covered
with fragments of granite. Winding our way up a long ravine, we came
unexpectedly in view of a most beautiful lake, set like a gem in the
mountains. The sheet of water lay transversely across the direction we
had been pursuing; and, descending the steep, rocky ridge, where it was
necessary to lead our horses, we followed its banks to the southern
extremity. Here a view of the utmost magnificence and grandeur burst
upon our eyes. With nothing between us and their feet to lessen the
effect of the whole height, a grand bed of snow-capped mountains rose
before us, pile upon pile, glowing in the bright light of an August
day. Immediately below them lay the lake, between two ridges, covered
with dark pines, which swept down from the main chain to the spot where
we stood. Here, where the lake glittered in the open sunlight, its
banks of yellow sand and the light foliage of aspen groves contrasted
well with the gloomy pines. “Never before,” said Mr. Preuss, “in this
country or in Europe, have I seen such magnificent, grand rocks.” I was
so much pleased with the beauty of the place that I determined to make
the main camp here, where our animals would find good pasturage, and
explore the mountains with a small party of men. Proceeding a little
further, we came suddenly upon the outlet of the lake, where it found
its way through a narrow passage between low hills. Dark pines, which
overhung the stream, and masses of rock, where the water foamed along,
gave it much romantic beauty. Where we crossed, which was immediately
at the outlet, it is two hundred and fifty feet wide, and so deep that
with difficulty we were able to ford it. Its bed was an accumulation
of rocks, boulders, and broad slabs, and large angular fragments, among
which the animals fell repeatedly.
The current was very swift, and the water cold and of a crystal purity.
In crossing this stream, I met with a great misfortune in having my
barometer broken. It was the only one. A great part of the interest
of the journey for me was in the exploration of these mountains, of
which so much had been said that was doubtful and contradictory; and
now their snowy peaks rose majestically before me, and the only means
of giving them authentically to science, the object of my anxious
solicitude by night and day, was destroyed. We had brought this
barometer in safety a thousand miles, and broke it almost among the
snow of the mountains. The loss was felt by the whole camp. All had
seen my anxiety, and aided me in preserving it. The height of these
mountains, considered by the hunters and traders the highest in the
whole range, had been a theme of constant discussion among them; and
all had looked forward with pleasure to the moment when the instrument,
which they believed to be true as the sun, should stand upon the
summits and decide their disputes. Their grief was only inferior to my
own.
This lake is about three miles long and of very irregular width and
apparently great depth, and is the head-water of the third New Fork, a
tributary to Green River, the Colorado of the West. On the map and in
the narrative I have called it Mountain Lake. I encamped on the north
side, about three hundred and fifty yards from the outlet. This was the
most western point at which I obtained astronomical observations, by
which this place, called Bernier’s encampment, is made in 110° 08′ 03″
west longitude from Greenwich, and latitude 43° 49′ 49″. The mountain
peaks, as laid down, were fixed by bearings from this and other
astronomical points. We had no other compass than the small ones used
in sketching the country; but from an azimuth, in which one of them
was used, the variation of the compass is 18° east. The correction made
in our field work by the astronomical observations indicates that this
is a very correct observation.
As soon as the camp was formed, I set about endeavoring to repair
my barometer. As I have already said, this was a standard cistern
barometer, of Troughton’s construction. The glass cistern had been
broken about midway; but, as the instrument had been kept in a proper
position, no air had found its way into the tube, the end of which had
always remained covered. I had with me a number of vials of tolerably
thick glass, some of which were of the same diameter as the cistern,
and I spent the day in slowly working on these, endeavoring to cut them
of the requisite length; but, as my instrument was a very rough file,
I invariably broke them. A groove was cut in one of the trees, where
the barometer was placed during the night, to be out of the way of any
possible danger; and in the morning I commenced again. Among the powder
horns in the camp, I found one which was very transparent, so that
its contents could be almost as plainly seen as through glass. This
I boiled and stretched on a piece of wood to the requisite diameter,
and scraped it very thin, in order to increase to the utmost its
transparency. I then secured it firmly in its place on the instrument
with strong glue made from a buffalo, and filled it with mercury
properly heated. A piece of skin, which had covered one of the vials,
furnished a good pocket, which was well secured with strong thread and
glue; and then the brass cover was screwed to its place. The instrument
was left some time to dry; and, when I reversed it, a few hours after,
I had the satisfaction to find it in perfect order, its indications
being about the same as on the other side of the lake before it had
been broken. Our success in this little incident diffused pleasure
throughout the camp; and we immediately set about our preparations for
ascending the mountains.
As will be seen, on reference to a map, on this short mountain chain
are the head-waters of four great rivers of the continent,--namely,
the Colorado, Columbia, Missouri, and Platte Rivers. It had been my
design, after having ascended the mountains, to continue our route
on the western side of the range, and, crossing through a pass at
the northwestern end of the chain, about thirty miles from our
present camp, return along the eastern slope across the heads of the
Yellowstone River, and join on the line to our station of August 7,
immediately at the foot of the ridge. In this way, I should be enabled
to include the whole chain and its numerous waters in my survey; but
various considerations induced me, very reluctantly, to abandon this
plan.
I was desirous to keep strictly within the scope of my instructions;
and it would have required ten or fifteen additional days for the
accomplishment of this object. Our animals had become very much worn
out with the length of the journey; game was very scarce; and, though
it does not appear in the course of the narrative (as I have avoided
dwelling upon trifling incidents not connected with the objects of
the expedition), the spirits of the men had been much exhausted by
the hardships and privations to which they had been subjected. Our
provisions had well-nigh all disappeared. Bread had been long out
of the question; and of all our stock we had remaining two or three
pounds of coffee and a small quantity of macaroni, which had been
husbanded with great care for the mountain expedition we were about
to undertake. Our daily meal consisted of dry buffalo-meat cooked in
tallow; and, as we had not dried this with Indian skill, part of it was
spoiled, and what remained of good was as hard as wood, having much
the taste and appearance of so many pieces of bark. Even of this, our
stock was rapidly diminishing in a camp which was capable of consuming
two buffaloes in every twenty-four hours. These animals had entirely
disappeared, and it was not probable that we should fall in with them
again until we returned to the Sweet Water.
Our arrangements for the ascent were rapidly completed. We were
in a hostile country, which rendered the greatest vigilance and
circumspection necessary. The pass at the north end of the mountain was
generally infested by Blackfeet; and immediately opposite was one of
their forts, on the edge of a little thicket, two or three hundred feet
from our encampment. We were posted in a grove of beech, on the margin
of the lake, and a few hundred feet long, with a narrow _prairillon_
on the inner side, bordered by the rocky ridge. In the upper end of
this grove we cleared a circular space about forty feet in diameter,
and with the felled timber and interwoven branches surrounded it with a
breastwork five feet in height. A gap was left for a gate on the inner
side, by which the animals were to be driven in and secured, while the
men slept around the little work. It was half hidden by the foliage,
and, garrisoned by twelve resolute men, would have set at defiance any
band of savages which might chance to discover them in the interval
of our absence. Fifteen of the best mules, with fourteen men, were
selected for the mountain party. Our provisions consisted of dried meat
for two days, with our little stock of coffee and some macaroni. In
addition to the barometer and a thermometer I took with me a sextant
and spyglass, and we had, of course, our compasses. In charge of the
camp I left Brenier, one of my most trustworthy men, who possessed the
most determined courage.
_August 12._--Early in the morning we left the camp, fifteen in number,
well armed, of course, and mounted on our best mules. A pack animal
carried our provisions, with a coffee-pot and kettle and three or
four tin cups. Every man had a blanket strapped over his saddle, to
serve for his bed, and the instruments were carried by turns on their
backs. We entered directly on rough and rocky ground, and, just after
crossing the ridge, had the good fortune to shoot an antelope. We
heard the roar, and had a glimpse of a waterfall as we rode along; and,
crossing in our way two fine streams, tributary to the Colorado, in
about two hours’ ride we reached the top of the first row or range of
the mountains. Here, again, a view of the most romantic beauty met our
eyes. It seemed as if, from the vast expanse of uninteresting prairie
we had passed over, Nature had collected all her beauties together in
one chosen place. We were overlooking a deep valley, which was entirely
occupied by three lakes, and from the brink the surrounding ridges
rose precipitously five hundred and a thousand feet, covered with the
dark green of the balsam pine, relieved on the border of the lake
with the light foliage of the aspen. They all communicated with each
other; and the green of the waters, common to mountain lakes of great
depth, showed that it would be impossible to cross them. The surprise
manifested by our guides when these impassable obstacles suddenly
barred our progress proved that they were among the hidden treasures
of the place, unknown even to the wandering trappers of the region.
Descending the hill, we proceeded to make our way along the margin to
the southern extremity. A narrow strip of angular fragments of rock
sometimes afforded a rough pathway for our mules; but generally we rode
along the shelving side, occasionally scrambling up, at a considerable
risk of tumbling back into the lake.
The slope was frequently 60°. The pines grew densely together, and the
ground was covered with the branches and trunks of trees. The air was
fragrant with the odor of the pines; and I realized this delightful
morning the pleasure of breathing that mountain air which makes a
constant theme of the hunter’s praise, and which now made us feel as
if we had all been drinking some exhilarating gas. The depths of this
unexplored forest were a place to delight the heart of a botanist.
There was a rich undergrowth of plants and numerous gay-colored flowers
in brilliant bloom. We reached the outlet at length, where some
freshly barked willows that lay in the water showed that beaver had
been recently at work. There were some small brown squirrels jumping
about in the pines and a couple of large mallard ducks swimming about
in the stream.
The hills on this southern end were low, and the lake looked like a
mimic sea as the waves broke on the sandy beach in the force of a
strong breeze. There was a pretty open spot, with fine grass for our
mules; and we made our noon halt on the beach, under the shade of some
large hemlocks. We resumed our journey after a halt of about an hour,
making our way up the ridge on the western side of the lake. In search
of smoother ground, we rode a little inland, and, passing through
groves of aspen, soon found ourselves again among the pines. Emerging
from these, we struck the summit of the ridge above the upper end of
the lake.
We had reached a very elevated point; and in the valley below and
among the hills were a number of lakes at different levels, some two
or three hundred feet above others, with which they communicated by
foaming torrents. Even to our great height, the roar of the cataracts
came up; and we could see them leaping down in lines of snowy foam.
From this scene of busy waters, we turned abruptly into the stillness
of a forest, where we rode among the open bolls of the pines over a
lawn of verdant grass, having strikingly the air of cultivated grounds.
This led us, after a time, among masses of rock, which had no vegetable
earth but in hollows and crevices, though still the pine forest
continued. Toward evening we reached a defile, or rather a hole in the
mountains, entirely shut in by dark pine-covered rocks.
A small stream, with a scarcely perceptible current, flowed through
a level bottom of perhaps eighty yards’ width, where the grass was
saturated with water. Into this the mules were turned, and were neither
hobbled nor picketed during the night, as the fine pasturage took
away all temptation to stray; and we made our bivouac in the pines.
The surrounding masses were all of granite. While supper was being
prepared, I set out on an excursion in the neighborhood, accompanied
by one of my men. We wandered about among the crags and ravines until
dark, richly repaid for our walk by a fine collection of plants, many
of them in full bloom. Ascending a peak to find the place of our
camp, we saw that the little defile in which we lay communicated with
the long green valley of some stream, which, here locked up in the
mountains, far away to the south, found its way in a dense forest to
the plains.
Looking along its upward course, it seemed to conduct by a smooth
gradual slope directly toward the peak, which, from long consultation
as we approached the mountain, we had decided to be the highest of the
range. Pleased with the discovery of so fine a road for the next day,
we hastened down to the camp, where we arrived just in time for supper.
Our table service was rather scant; and we held the meat in our hands,
and clean rocks made good plates on which we spread our macaroni. Among
all the strange places on which we had occasion to encamp during our
long journey, none have left so vivid an impression on my mind as the
camp of this evening. The disorder of the masses which surrounded us,
the little hole through which we saw the stars overhead, the dark pines
where we slept, and the rocks lit up with the glow of our fires made a
night picture of very wild beauty.
_August 13._--The morning was bright and pleasant, just cool enough to
make exercise agreeable; and we soon entered the defile I had seen the
preceding day. It was smoothly carpeted with a soft grass and scattered
over with groups of flowers, of which yellow was the predominant color.
Sometimes we were forced by an occasional difficult pass to pick our
way on a narrow ledge along the side of the defile, and the mules
were frequently on their knees; but these obstructions were rare,
and we journeyed on in the sweet morning air, delighted at our good
fortune in having found such a beautiful entrance to the mountains.
This road continued for about three miles, when we suddenly reached
its termination in one of the grand views which at every turn meet the
traveller in this magnificent region. Here the defile up which we had
travelled opened out into a small lawn, where, in a little lake, the
stream had its source.
There were some fine _asters_ in bloom, but all the flowering plants
appeared to seek the shelter of the rocks and to be of lower growth
than below, as if they loved the warmth of the soil, and kept out of
the way of the winds. Immediately at our feet a precipitous descent
led to a confusion of defiles, and before us rose the mountains. It
is not by the splendor of far-off views, which have lent such a glory
to the Alps, that these impress the mind, but by a gigantic disorder
of enormous masses and a savage sublimity of naked rock in wonderful
contrast with innumerable green spots of a rich floral beauty shut
up in their stern recesses. Their wildness seems well suited to the
character of the people who inhabit the country.
I determined to leave our animals here and make the rest of our way
on foot. The peak appeared so near that there was no doubt of our
returning before night; and a few men were left in charge of the mules,
with our provisions and blankets. We took with us nothing but our arms
and instruments, and, as the day had become warm, the greater part
left our coats. Having made an early dinner, we started again. We were
soon involved in the most ragged precipices, nearing the central chain
very slowly, and rising but little. The first ridge hid a succession
of others; and when, with great fatigue and difficulty, we had climbed
up five hundred feet, it was but to make an equal descent on the other
side. All these intervening places were filled with small deep lakes,
which met the eye in every direction, descending from one level to
another, sometimes under bridges formed by huge fragments of granite,
beneath which was heard the roar of the water. These constantly
obstructed our path, forcing us to make long _détours_, frequently
obliged to retrace our steps, and frequently falling among the rocks.
Maxwell was precipitated toward the face of a precipice, and saved
himself from going over by throwing himself flat on the ground. We
clambered on, always expecting with every ridge that we crossed to
reach the foot of the peaks, and always disappointed, until about four
o’clock, when, pretty well worn out, we reached the shore of a little
lake in which there was a rocky island. We remained here a short time
to rest, and continued on around the lake, which had in some places a
beach of white sand, and in others was bound with rocks, over which the
way was difficult and dangerous, as the water from innumerable springs
made them very slippery.