Sir: Agreeably to your orders to explore and report upon the country
between the frontiers of Missouri and the South Pass in the Rocky
Mountains, and on the line of the Kansas and Great Platte rivers, I set
out from Washington city on the 2d day of May, 1842, and arrived at St.
Louis by way of New York, the 22d of May, where the necessary
preparations were completed, and the expedition commenced. I proceeded
in a steamboat to Chouteau's landing, about four hundred miles by water
from St. Louis, and near the mouth of the Kansas river, whence we
proceeded twelve miles to Mr. Cyprian Chouteau's trading-house, where
we completed our final arrangements for the expedition.
Bad weather, which interfered with astronomical observations, delayed
us several days in the early part of June at this post, which is on the
right bank of the Kansas river, about ten miles above the mouth, and
six beyond the western boundary of Missouri. The sky cleared off at
length and we were enabled to determine our position, in longitude 90°
25' 46", and latitude 39° 5' 57". The elevation above the sea is about
700 feet. Our camp, in the mean time, presented an animated and
bustling scene. All were busily engaged in completing the necessary
arrangements for our campaign in the wilderness, and profiting by this
short stay on the verge of civilization, to provide ourselves with all
the little essentials to comfort in the nomadic life we were to lead
for the ensuing summer months. Gradually, however, every thing--the
_materiel_ of the camp--men, horses, and even mules--settled into its
place; and by the 10th we were ready to depart; but, before we mount
our horses, I will give a short description of the party with which I
performed the service.
I had collected in the neighborhood of St. Louis twenty-one men,
principally Creole and Canadian _voyageurs_, who had become familiar
with prairie life in the service of the fur companies in the Indian
country. Mr. Charles Preuss, native of Germany, was my assistant in the
topographical part of the survey; L. Maxwell, of Kaskaskia, had been
engaged as hunter, and Christopher Carson (more familiarly known, for
his exploits in the mountains, as Kit Carson) was our guide. The
persons engaged in St. Louis were:
Clement Lambert, J.B. L'Esperance, J.B. Lefevre, Benjamin Potra, Louis
Gouin, J.B. Dumes, Basil Lajeunesse, François Tessier, Benjamin
Cadotte, Joseph Clement, Daniel Simonds, Leonard Benoit, Michel Morly,
Baptiste Bernier, Honore Ayot, François La Tulipe, Francis Badeau,
Louis Menard, Joseph Ruelle, Moise Chardonnais, Auguste Janisse,
Raphael Proue.
In addition to these, Henry Brant, son of Col. J.B. Brant, of St.
Louis, a young man of nineteen years of age, and Randolph, a lively boy
of twelve, son of the Hon. Thomas H. Benton, accompanied me, for the
development of mind and body such an expedition would give. We were
well armed and mounted, with the exception of eight men, who conducted
as many carts, in which were packed our stores, with the baggage and
instruments, and which were drawn by two mules. A few loose horses, and
four oxen, which had been added to our stock of provisions, completed
the train. We set out on the morning of the 10th, which happened to be
Friday, a circumstance which our men did not fail to remember and
recall during the hardships and vexations of the ensuing journey. Mr.
Cyprian Chouteau, to whose kindness, during our stay at his house, we
were much indebted, accompanied us several miles on our way, until we
met an Indian, whom he had engaged to conduct us on the first thirty or
forty miles, where he was to consign us to the ocean of prairie, which,
we were told, stretched without interruption almost to the base of the
Rocky Mountains.
From the belt of wood which borders the Kansas, in which we had passed
several good-looking Indian farms, we suddenly emerged on the prairies,
which received us at the outset with some of their striking
characteristics; for here and there rode an Indian, and but a few miles
distant heavy clouds of smoke were rolling before the fire. In about
ten miles we reached the Santa Fé road, along which we continued for a
short time, and encamped early on a small stream--having traveled about
eleven miles. During our journey, it was the customary practice to
encamp an hour or two before sunset, when the carts were disposed so as
to form a sort of barricade around a circle some eighty yards in
diameter. The tents were pitched, and the horses hobbled and turned
loose to graze; and but a few minutes elapsed before the cooks of the
messes, of which there were four, were busily engaged in preparing the
evening meal. At nightfall, the horses, mules, and oxen were driven in
and picketed,--that is, secured by a halter, of which one end was tied
to a small steel-shod picket, and driven into the ground; the halter
being twenty or thirty feet long, which enabled them to obtain a little
food during the night. When we had reached a part of the country where
such a precaution became necessary, the carts being regularly arranged
for defending the camp, guard was mounted at eight o'clock, consisting
of three men, who were relieved every two hours--the morning-watch
being horse-guard for the day. At daybreak the camp was roused, the
animals turned loose to graze, and breakfast generally over between six
and seven o'clock, when we resumed our march, making regularly a halt
at noon for one or two hours. Such was usually the order of the day,
except when accident of country forced a variation; which, however,
happened but rarely. We traveled the next day along the Santa Fé road,
which we left in the afternoon, and encamped late in the evening on a
small creek, called by the Indians, Mishmagwi. Just as we arrived at
camp, one of the horses set off at full speed on his return, and was
followed by others. Several men were sent in pursuit, and returned with
the fugitives about midnight, with the exception of one man, who did
not make his appearance until morning. He had lost his way in the
darkness of the night, and slept on the prairie. Shortly after midnight
it began to rain heavily, and, as our tents were of light and thin
cloth, they offered but little obstruction to the rain: we were all
well soaked, and glad when morning came. We had a rainy march on the
12th, but the weather grew fine as the day advanced. We encamped in a
remarkably beautiful situation on the Kansas bluffs, which commanded a
fine view of the river valley, here from four to five miles wide. The
central portion was occupied by a broad belt of heavy timber, and
nearer the hills the prairies were of the richest verdure. One of the
oxen was killed here for food.
We reached the ford of the Kansas late in the afternoon of the 14th,
where the river was two hundred and thirty yards wide, and commenced,
immediately, preparations for crossing. I had expected to find the
river fordable; but it had swollen by the late rains, and was sweeping
by with an angry current, yellow and turbid as the Missouri. Up to this
point the road we had traveled was a remarkably fine one, well beaten,
and level--the usual road of a prairie country. By our route, the ford
was one hundred miles from the mouth of the Kansas river. Several
mounted men led the way into the stream to swim across. The animals
were driven in after them, and in a few minutes all had reached the
opposite bank in safety, with the exception of the oxen, which swam
some distance down the river, and, returning to the right bank, were
not got over till the next morning. In the mean time, the carts had
been unloaded and dismantled, and an India-rubber boat, which I had
brought with me for the survey of the Platte river, placed in the
water. The boat was twenty feet long and five broad, and on it were
placed the body and wheels of a cart, with the load belonging to it,
and three men with paddles.
The velocity of the current, and the inconvenient freight, rendering it
difficult to be managed, Basil Lajeunesse, one of our best swimmers,
took in his teeth a line attached to the boat, and swam ahead in order
to reach a footing as soon as possible, and assist in drawing her over.
In this manner six passages had been successfully made, and as many
carts with their contents, and a greater portion of the party,
deposited on the left bank; but night was drawing near, and, in our
anxiety to have all over before the darkness closed in, I put upon the
boat the remaining two carts, with their accompanying load. The man at
the helm was timid on water, and in his alarm capsized the boat. Carts,
barrels, boxes, and bales, were in a moment floating down the current;
but all the men who were on the shore jumped into the water, without
stopping to think if they could swim, and almost every thing--even
heavy articles, such as guns and lead--was recovered.
Two of the men who could not swim came nigh being drowned, and all the
sugar belonging to one of the messes wasted its sweets on the muddy
waters; but our heaviest loss was a large bag of coffee, which
contained nearly all our provision. It was a loss which none but a
traveler in a strange and inhospitable country can appreciate; and
often afterward, when excessive toil and long marching had overcome us
with fatigue and weariness, we remembered and mourned over our loss in
the Kansas. Carson and Maxwell had been much in the water yesterday,
and both, in consequence, were taken ill. The former continuing so, I
remained in camp. A number of Kansas Indians visited us to-day. Going
up to one of the groups who were scattered among the trees, I found one
sitting on the ground, among some of the men, gravely and fluently
speaking French, with as much facility and as little embarrassment as
any of my own party, who were nearly all of French origin.
On all sides was heard the strange language of his own people, wild,
and harmonizing well with their appearance. I listened to him for some
time with feelings of strange curiosity and interest. He was now
apparently thirty-five years of age; and, on inquiry, I learned that he
had been at St. Louis when a boy, and there had learned the French
language. From one of the Indian women I obtained a fine cow and calf
in exchange for a yoke of oxen. Several of them brought us vegetables,
pumpkins, onions, beans, and lettuce. One of them brought butter, and
from a half-breed near the river, I had the good fortune to obtain some
twenty or thirty pounds of coffee. The dense timber in which we had
encamped interfered with astronomical observations, and our wet and
damaged stores required exposure to the sun. Accordingly, the tents
were struck early the next morning, and, leaving camp at six o'clock,
we moved about seven miles up the river, to a handsome, open prairie,
some twenty feet above the water, where the fine grass afforded a
luxurious repast to our horses.
During the day we occupied ourselves in making astronomical
observations, in order to lay down the country to this place; it being
our custom to keep up our map regularly in the field, which we found
attended with many advantages. The men were kept busy in drying the
provisions, painting the cart covers, and otherwise completing our
equipage, until the afternoon, when powder was distributed to them, and
they spent some hours in firing at a mark. We were now fairly in the
Indian country, and it began to be time to prepare for the chances of
the wilderness.
17th.--The weather yesterday had not permitted us to make the
observations I was desirous to obtain here, and I therefore did not
move to-day. The people continued their target firing. In the steep
bank of the river here, were nests of innumerable swallows, into one of
which a large prairie snake had got about half his body, and was
occupied in eating the young birds. The old ones were flying about in
great distress, darting at him, and vainly endeavoring to drive him
off. A shot wounded him, and, being killed, he was cut open, and
eighteen young swallows were found in his body. A sudden storm, that
burst upon us in the afternoon, cleared away in a brilliant sunset,
followed by a clear night, which enabled us to determine our position
in longitude 95° 38' 05", and in latitude 39° 06' 40".
A party of emigrants to the Columbia river, under the charge of Dr.
White, an agent of the government in Oregon Territory, were about three
weeks in advance of us. They consisted of men, women, and children.
There were sixty-four men, and sixteen or seventeen families. They had
a considerable number of cattle, and were transporting their household
furniture in large, heavy wagons. I understood that there had been much
sickness among them, and that they had lost several children. One of
the party who had lost his child, and whose wife was very ill, had left
them about one hundred miles hence on the prairies; and as a hunter,
who had accompanied them, visited our camp this evening, we availed
ourselves of his return to the States to write to our friends.
The morning of the 18th was very unpleasant. A fine rain was falling,
with cold wind from the north, and mists made the river hills look dark
and gloomy. We left our camp at seven, journeying along the foot of the
hills which border the Kansas valley, generally about three miles wide,
and extremely rich. We halted for dinner, after a march of about
thirteen miles, on the banks of one of the many little tributaries to
the Kansas, which look like trenches in the prairie, and are usually
well timbered. After crossing this stream, I rode off some miles to the
left, attracted by the appearance of a cluster of huts near the mouth
of the Vermilion. It was a large but deserted Kansas village, scattered
in an open wood, along the margin of the stream, chosen with the
customary Indian fondness for beauty of scenery. The Pawnees had
attacked it in the early spring. Some of the houses were burnt, and
others blackened with smoke, and weeds were already getting possession
of the cleared places. Riding up the Vermilion river, I reached the
ford in time to meet the carts, and, crossing, encamped on its western
side. The weather continued cold, the thermometer being this evening as
low as 49°; but the night was sufficiently clear for astronomical
observations, which placed us in longitude 96° 04' 07", and latitude
39° 15' 19". At sunset, the barometer was at 28.845, thermometer 64°.
We breakfasted the next morning at half-past five, and left our
encampment early. The morning was cool, the thermometer being at 45°.
Quitting the river bottom, the road ran along the uplands, over a
rolling country, generally in view of the Kansas from eight to twelve
miles distant. Many large boulders, of a very compact sandstone, of
various shades of red, some of them of four or five tons in weight,
were scattered along the hills; and many beautiful plants in flower,
among which the _amorpha canescens_ was a characteristic, enlivened the
green of the prairie. At the heads of the ravines I remarked,
occasionally, thickets of _saix longifolia_, the most common willow of
the country. We traveled nineteen miles and pitched our tents at
evening on the head-waters of a small creek, now nearly dry, but having
in its bed several fine springs. The barometer indicated a considerable
rise in the country--here about fourteen hundred feet above the
sea--and the increased elevation appeared already to have some slight
influence upon vegetation. The night was cold, with a heavy dew; the
thermometer at 10 P.M. standing at 46°, barometer 28.483. Our position
was in longitude 96° 14' 49", and latitude 39° 30' 40".
The morning of the 20th was fine, with a southerly breeze and a bright
sky; and at seven o'clock we were on the march. The country to-day was
rather more broken, rising still, and covered everywhere with fragments
of silicious limestone, particularly on the summits, where they were
small, and thickly strewed as pebbles on the shore of the sea. In these
exposed situations grew but few plants; though, whenever the soil was
good and protected from the winds, in the creek bottoms and ravines,
and on the slopes, they flourished abundantly; among them the
_amorpha_, still retaining its characteristic place. We crossed, at 10
A.M. the Big Vermilion, which has a rich bottom of about one mile in
breadth, one-third of which is occupied by timber. Making our usual
halt at noon, after a day's march of twenty-four miles, we reached the
Big Blue, and encamped on the uplands of the western side, near a small
creek, where was a fine large spring of very cold water. This is a
clear and handsome stream, about one hundred and twenty feet wide,
running with a rapid current, through a well-timbered valley. To-day
antelope were seen running over the hills, and at evening Carson
brought us a fine deer. Longitude of the camp 96° 32' 35", latitude 39°
45' 08". Thermometer at sunset 75°. A pleasant southerly breeze and
fine morning had given place to a gale, with indications of bad
weather; when, after a march of ten miles, we halted to noon on a small
creek, where the water stood in deep pools. In the bank of the creek
limestone made its appearance in a stratum about one foot thick. In the
afternoon, the people seemed to suffer for want of water. The road led
along a high dry ridge; dark lines of timber indicated the heads of
streams in the plains below; but there was no water near, and the day
was oppressive, with a hot wind, and the thermometer at 90°. Along our
route the _amorpha_ has been in very abundant but variable bloom--in
some places bending beneath the weight of purple clusters; in others
without a flower. It seemed to love best the sunny slopes, with a dark
soil and southern exposure. Everywhere the rose is met with, and
reminds us of cultivated gardens and civilization. It is scattered over
the prairies in small bouquets, and, when glittering in the dews and
waving in the pleasant breeze of the early morning, is the most
beautiful of the prairie flowers. The _artemisia_, absinthe, or prairie
sage, as it is variously called, is increasing in size, and glittering
like silver, as the southern breeze turns up its leaves to the sun. All
these plants have their insect inhabitants, variously colored--taking
generally the hue of the flower on which they live. The _artemisia_ has
its small fly accompanying it through every change of elevation and
latitude; and wherever I have seen the _asclepias tuberosa_, I have
always remarked, too, on the flower a large butterfly, so nearly
resembling it in color as to be distinguishable at a little distance
only by the motion of its wings. Traveling on, the fresh traces of the
Oregon emigrants relieve a little the loneliness of the road; and
to-night, after a march of twenty-two miles, we halted on a small creek
which had been one of their encampments. As we advanced westward, the
soil appears to be getting more sandy; and the surface rock, an erratic
deposite of sand and gravel, rests here on a bed of coarse yellow and
gray and very friable sandstone. Evening closed over with rain and its
usual attendant hordes of mosquitoes, with which we were annoyed for
the first time.
22d.--We enjoyed at breakfast this morning a luxury, very unusual in
this country, in a cup of excellent coffee, with cream, from our cow.
Being milked at night, cream was thus had in the morning. Our mid-day
halt was at Wyeth's creek, in the bed of which were numerous boulders
of dark, ferruginous sandstone, mingled with others of the red
sandstone already mentioned. Here a pack of cards, lying loose on the
grass, marked an encampment of our Oregon emigrants; and it was at the
close of the day when we made our bivouac in the midst of some
well-timbered ravines near the Little Blue, twenty-four miles from our
camp of the preceding night. Crossing the next morning a number of
handsome creeks, with water clear and sandy beds we reached, at 10
A.M., a very beautiful wooded stream, about thirty-five feet wide,
called Sandy creek, and sometimes, as the Ottoes frequently winter
there, the Otto fork. The country has become very sandy, and the plants
less varied and abundant, with the exception of the _amorpha_, which
rivals the grass in quantity, though not so forward as it has been
found to the eastward.
At the Big Trees, where we had intended to noon, no water was to be
found. The bed of the little creek was perfectly dry, and, on the
adjacent sandy bottom, _cacti_, for the first time made their
appearance. We made here a short delay in search of water; and, after a
hard day's march of twenty-eight miles, encamped, at 5 o'clock, on the
Little Blue, where our arrival made a scene of the Arabian desert. As
fast as they arrived men and horses rushed into the stream, where they
bathed and drank together in common enjoyment. We were now in the range
of the Pawnees, who were accustomed to infest this part of the country,
stealing horses from companies on their way to the mountains; and, when
in sufficient force, openly attacking and plundering them, and
subjecting them to various kinds of insult. For the first time,
therefore, guard was mounted to-night. Our route the next morning lay
up the valley, which, bordered by hills with graceful slopes, looked
uncommonly green and beautiful. The stream was about fifty feet wide,
and three or four deep, fringed by cotton-wood and willow, with
frequent groves of oak, tenanted by flocks of turkeys. Game here, too,
made its appearance in greater plenty. Elk were frequently seen on the
hills, and now and then an antelope bounded across our path, or a deer
broke from the groves. The road in the afternoon was over the upper
prairies, several miles from the river, and we encamped at sunset on
one of its small tributaries, where an abundance of prele (_equisetum_)
afforded fine forage to our tired animals. We had traveled thirty-one
miles. A heavy bank of black clouds in the west came on us in a storm
between nine and ten, preceded by a violent wind. The rain fell in such
torrents that it was difficult to breathe facing the wind; the thunder
rolled incessantly, and the whole sky was tremulous with lightning--now
and then illuminated by a blinding flash, succeeded by pitchy darkness.
Carson had the watch from ten to midnight, and to him had been assigned
our young _compagnons de voyage_, Messrs. Brant and R. Benton. This was
their first night on guard, and such an introduction did not augur very
auspiciously of the pleasures of the expedition. Many things conspired
to render their situation uncomfortable; stories of desperate and
bloody Indian fights were rife in the camp; our position was badly
chosen, surrounded on all sides by timbered hollows, and occupying an
area of several hundred feet, so that necessarily the guards were far
apart; and now and then I could hear Randolph, as if relieved by the
sound of a voice in the darkness, calling out to the sergeant of the
guard, to direct his attention to some imaginary alarm; but they stood
it out, and took their turn regularly afterwards.
The next morning we had a specimen of the false alarms to which all
parties in these wild regions are subject. Proceeding up the valley,
objects were seen on the opposite hills, which disappeared before a
glass could be brought to bear upon them. A man who was a short
distance in the rear, came springing up in great haste, shouting
"Indians! Indians!" He had been near enough to see and count them,
according to his report, and had made out twenty-seven. I immediately
halted; arms were examined and put in order; the usual preparations
made; and Kit Carson, springing upon one of the hunting horses, crossed
the river, and galloped off into the opposite prairies, to obtain some
certain intelligence of their movements.
Mounted on a fine horse, without a saddle, and scouring bare-headed
over the prairies, Kit was one of the finest pictures of a horseman I
have ever seen. A short time enabled him to discover that the Indian
war-party of twenty-seven consisted of six elk, who had been gazing
curiously at our caravan as it passed by, and were now scampering off
at full speed. This was our first alarm, and its excitement broke
agreeably on the monotony of the day. At our noon halt, the men were
exercised at a target; and in the evening we pitched our tents at a
Pawnee encampment of last July. They had apparently killed buffalo
here, as many bones were lying about, and the frames where the hides
had been stretched were yet standing. The road of the day had kept the
valley, which is sometimes rich and well timbered, though the country
generally is sandy. Mingled with the usual plants, a thistle (_carduus
leucographus_) had for the last day or two made its appearance; and
along the river bottom, _tradescantia_ (virginica) and milk plant
(_asclepias syriaca_) [Footnote: This plant is very odoriferous, and in
Canada charms the traveler, especially when passing through woods in
the evening. The French there eat the tender shoots in the spring, as
we do asparagus. The natives make a sugar of the flowers, gathering
them in the morning when they are covered with dew, and collect the
cotton from their pods to fill their beds. On account of the silkiness
of this cotton, Parkinson calls the plant Virginian silk.--_Loudon's
Encyclopædia of Plants_.
The Sioux Indians of the Upper Platte eat the young pods of this plant,
boiling them with the meat of the buffalo.] in considerable quantities.
Our march to-day had been twenty-one miles, and the astronomical
observations gave us a chronometric longitude of 98° 22' 12", and
latitude 40° 26' 50". We were moving forward at seven in the morning,
and in about five miles reached a fork of the Blue, where the road
leaves that river, and crosses over to the Platte. No water was to be
found on the dividing ridge, and the casks were filled, and the animals
here allowed a short repose. The road led across a high and level
prairie ridge, where were but few plants, and those principally
thistle, (_carduus leucographus_,) and a kind of dwarf artemisia.
Antelope were seen frequently during the morning, which was very
stormy. Squalls of rain, with thunder and lightning, were around us in
every direction; and while we were enveloped in one of them, a flash,
which seemed to scorch our eyes as it passed, struck in the prairie
within a few hundred feet, sending up a column of dust.
Crossing on the way several Pawnee roads to the Arkansas, we reached,
in about twenty-one miles from our halt on the Blue, what is called the
coast of the Nebraska, or Platte river. This had seemed in the distance
a range of high and broken hills; but on a nearer approach was found to
be elevations of forty to sixty feet into which the wind had worked the
sand. They were covered with the usual fine grasses of the country, and
bordered the eastern side of the ridge on a breadth of about two miles.
Change of soil and country appeared here to have produced some change
in the vegetation. _Cacti_ were numerous, and all the plants of the
region appeared to flourish among the warm hills. Among them the
_amorpha_, in full bloom, was remarkable for its large and luxuriant
purple clusters. From the foot of the coast, a distance of two miles
across the level bottom brought us to our encampment on the shore of
the river, about twenty miles below the head of Grand Island, which lay
extended before us, covered with dense and heavy woods. From the mouth
of the Kansas, according to our reckoning, we had traveled three
hundred and twenty-eight miles; and the geological formation of the
country we had passed over consisted of lime and sand stone, covered by
the same erratic deposits of sand and gravel which forms the surface
rock of the prairies between the Missouri and Mississippi rivers.
Except in some occasional limestone boulders, I had met with no
fossils. The elevation of the Platte valley above the sea is here about
two thousand feet. The astronomical observations of the night placed us
in longitude 98° 45' 49", latitude 40° 41' 06".
27th.--The animals were somewhat fatigued by their march of yesterday,
and, after a short journey of eighteen miles along the river bottom, I
encamped near the head of Grand Island, in longitude, by observation,
99° 05' 24", latitude 40° 39' 32". The soil was here light but rich,
though in some places rather sandy; and, with the exception of
scattered fringe along the bank, the timber, consisting principally of
poplar, (_populus moniliefera_,) elm, and hackberry, (_celtis
crassifolia_,) is confined almost entirely to the islands.
28th.--We halted to noon at an open reach of the river, which occupies
rather more than a fourth of the valley, here only about four miles
broad. The camp had been disposed with the usual precaution, the horses
grazing at a little distance, attended by the guard, and we were all
sitting quietly at our dinner on the grass, when suddenly we heard the
startling cry, "Du monde!" In an instant, every man's weapon was in his
hand, the horses were driven in, hobbled and picketed, and horsemen
were galloping at full speed in the direction of the newcomers,
screaming and yelling with the wildest excitement. "Get ready, my
lads!" said the leader of the approaching party to his men, when our
wild looking horsemen were discovered bearing down upon them--"nous
allons attraper des coups de baguette." They proved to be a small party
of fourteen, under the charge of a man named John Lee, and, with their
baggage and provisions strapped to their backs, were making their way
on foot to the frontier. A brief account of their fortunes will give
some idea of navigation in the Nebraska. Sixty days since, they had
left the mouth of Laramie's fork, some three hundred miles above, in
barges laden with the furs of the American Fur Company. They started
with the annual flood, and, drawing but nine inches water, hoped to
make a speedy and prosperous voyage to St. Louis; but, after a lapse of
forty days, found themselves only one hundred and thirty miles from
their point of departure. They came down rapidly as far as Scott's
bluffs, where their difficulties began. Sometimes they came upon places
where the water was spread over a great extent, and here they toiled
from morning until night, endeavoring to drag their boat through the
sands, making only two or three miles in as many days. Sometimes they
would enter an arm of the river, where there appeared a fine channel,
and, after descending prosperously for eight or ten miles, would come
suddenly upon dry sands, and be compelled to return, dragging their
boat for days against the rapid current; and at others, they came upon
places where the water lay in holes, and, getting out to float off
their boat, would fall into water up to their necks, and the next
moment tumble over against a sandbar. Discouraged at length, and
finding the Platte growing every day more shallow, they discharged the
principal part of their cargoes one hundred and thirty miles below Fort
Laramie, which they secured as well as possible, and, leaving a few men
to guard them, attempted to continue their voyage, laden with some
light furs and their personal baggage. After fifteen or twenty days
more struggling in the sands, during which they made but one hundred
and forty miles, they sunk their barges, made a _cache_ of their
remaining furs and property in trees on the bank, and, packing on his
back what each man could carry, had commenced, the day before we
encountered them, their journey on foot to St. Louis. We laughed then
at their forlorn and vagabond appearance, and, in our turn, a month or
two afterwards, furnished the same occasion for merriment to others.
Even their stock of tobacco, that _sine qua non_ of a voyageur, without
which the night fire is gloomy, was entirely exhausted. However, we
shortened their homeward journey by a small supply from our own
provision. They gave us the welcome intelligence that the buffalo were
abundant some two days' march in advance, and made us a present of some
choice pieces, which were a very acceptable change from our salt pork.
In the interchange of news, and the renewal of old acquaintanceships,
we found wherewithal to fill a busy hour; then we mounted our horses
and they shouldered their packs, and we shook hands and parted. Among
them, I had found an old companion on the northern prairie, a hardened
and hardly served veteran of the mountains, who had been as much hacked
and scarred as an old moustache of Napoleon's "old guard." He
flourished in the sobriquet of La Tulipe, and his real name I never
knew. Finding that he was going to the States only because his company
was bound in that direction, and that he was rather more willing to
return with me, I took him again into my service. We traveled this day
but seventeen miles.
At our evening camp, about sunset, three figures were discovered
approaching, which our glasses made out to be Indians. They proved to
be Cheyennes--two men, and a boy of thirteen. About a month since, they
had left their people on the south fork of the river, some three
hundred miles to the westward, and a party of only four in number had
been to the Pawnee villages on a horse-stealing excursion, from which
they were returning unsuccessful. They were miserably mounted on wild
horses from the Arkansas plains, and had no other weapons than bows and
long spears; and had they been discovered by the Pawnees, could not, by
any possibility, have escaped. They were mortified by their
ill-success, and said the Pawnees were cowards, who shut up their
horses in their lodges at night. I invited them to supper with me, and
Randolph and the young Cheyenne, who had been eyeing each other
suspiciously and curiously, soon became intimate friends. After supper
we sat down on the grass, and I placed a sheet of paper between us, on
which they traced, rudely, but with a certain degree of relative truth,
the water-courses of the country which lay between us and their
villages, and of which I desired to have some information. Their
companions, they told us, had taken a nearer route over the hills; but
they had mounted one of the summits to spy out the country, whence they
had caught a glimpse of our party, and, confident of good treatment at
the hands of the whites, hastened to join company. Latitude of the camp
40° 39' 51".
We made the next morning sixteen miles. I remarked that the ground was
covered in many places with an efflorescence of salt, and the plants
were not numerous. In the bottoms were frequently seen tradescantia,
and on the dry lenches were carduus, cactus, and amorpha. A high wind
during the morning had increased to a violent gale from the northwest,
which made our afternoon ride cold and unpleasant. We had the welcome
sight of two buffaloes on one of the large islands, and encamped at a
clump of timber about seven miles from our noon halt, after a day's
march of twenty-two miles.
The air was keen the next morning at sunrise, the thermometer standing
at 44°, and it was sufficiently cold to make overcoats very
comfortable. A few miles brought us into the midst of the buffalo,
swarming in immense numbers over the plains, where they had left
scarcely a blade of grass standing. Mr. Preuss, who was sketching at a
little distance in the rear, had at first noted them as large groves of
timber. In the sight of such a mass of life, the traveler feels a
strange emotion of grandeur. We had heard from a distance a dull and
confused murmuring, and, when we came in view of their dark masses,
there was not one among us who did not feel his heart beat quicker. It
was the early part of the day, when the herds are feeding; and
everywhere they were in motion. Here and there a huge old bull was
rolling in the grass, and clouds of dust rose in the air from various
parts of the bands, each the scene of some obstinate fight. Indians and
buffalo make the poetry and life of the prairie, and our camp was full
of their exhilaration. In place of the quiet monotony of the march,
relieved only by the cracking of the whip, and an "avance donc! enfant
de garce!" shouts and songs resounded from every part of the line, and
our evening camp was always the commencement of a feast, which
terminated only with our departure on the following morning. At any
time of the night might be seen pieces of the most delicate and
choicest meat, roasting _en appolas_, on sticks around the fire, and
the guard were never without company. With pleasant weather and no
enemy to fear, an abundance of the most excellent meat, and no scarcity
of bread or tobacco, they were enjoying the oasis of a voyageur's life.
Three cows were killed to-day. Kit Carson had shot one, and was
continuing the chase in the midst of another herd, when his horse fell
headlong, but sprang up and joined the flying band. Though considerably
hurt, he had the good fortune to break no bones; and Maxwell, who was
mounted on a fleet hunter, captured the runaway after a hard chase. He
was on the point of shooting him, to avoid the loss of his bridle, (a
handsomely mounted Spanish one,) when he found that his horse was able
to come up with him. Animals are frequently lost in this way; and it is
necessary to keep close watch over them, in the vicinity of the
buffalo, in the midst of which they scour off to the plains, and are
rarely retaken. One of our mules took a sudden freak into his head, and
joined a neighboring band to-day. As we were not in a condition to lose
horses, I sent several men in pursuit, and remained in camp, in the
hope of recovering him; but lost the afternoon to no purpose, as we did
not see him again. Astronomical observations placed us in longitude
100° 05' 47", latitude 40° 49' 55"