A Brood of Wilderness Breakers—Kit Carson the Dauntless—Campbell,
1827, Santa Fé to San Diego—Becknell and the Santa Fé Trail—Wheel
Tracks in the Wilderness—The Knight in Buckskin Dies—Pegleg
Smith the Horse Trader—The Apache Turns Forever against the
American—New Mexico the Dreamland—Wolfskill Breaks a Trail to
the Pacific—Bonneville, Captain Courteous; and Wyeth, Leader
Hopeful—Bonneville Forgets a Duty.
The Mexicans were restless over the advent of the numerous Americans who
now appeared in their settled valley, which, for more than a century and
a half, had lain completely isolated from the outer world, a lone child
of the Wilderness, a sort of dreamland where one day was like another
day, and where years rolled into decades, even centuries, without any
one knowing it. The Americans, quick, sharp, bluff, energetic, startled
these slow people, yet the officials tried to impose on them. Trapping
was permitted because the Mexicans did not know how to do it, but
after the American had reaped a harvest it was not easy to get away
with it, for by some flimsy subterfuge the furs might be confiscated
and the trapper on a pretext thrown into prison, as in the case of the
Patties in California. Nevertheless the American trapping operations
quickly extended over all the New Mexican territory as well as over
the region north of the forty-second parallel, still undetermined as
to ownership. British mainly operated there. The ten years agreed upon
in 1818 between Great Britain and the United States as to this tract
expired without their being able to come to an understanding, and the
agreement was renewed for a second ten years. Russia came to terms
on her southern and eastern boundary, making treaties with the United
States and Great Britain, the one with the latter establishing in 1825
the lines of Alaska that were inherited in 1867 by the United States,
and only definitely settled in 1903. Matters relating to the Mexican
country and to the Oregon region remained therefore for another decade
without political change.
[Illustration: Prairie Dogs.
From _Wonderland _, 1901. Northern Pacific Railway.]
The American trappers were not, however, deterred in the slightest
degree by boundaries, or diplomacy, or the attempted impositions of
the Mexican officials. They plunged, more actively than ever, into
their pursuit of the unfortunate beaver, no matter where it led so long
as they had rifle in hand, and incidentally they were performing the
whole world a service by swinging open the gates of the Wilderness.
Kit Carson, one soon to become familiar with almost every part of the
vast region, began his exploits in New Mexico in 1826, at the age of
seventeen. A whole brood of these remarkable characters appear to have
been born at one particular period, as if planned expressly to be thrown
at the beginning of their manhood into the vast Wilderness, to reduce
it for travel by less dauntless spirits. Carson joined a party of these
men to trap down the Gila and its branches in 1828, having spent the
winter of 1826-27 at San Fernandez de Taos learning Spanish, so that
he was able to converse with the Mexicans here and in California where
they went trapping on the Sacramento, finally reaching Santa Fé again,
where their furs were sold and the party disbanded. Carson was alert,
cool, honourable, exact, with that abounding self-confidence that led
him to balk at nothing, and, though so young, move rapidly to the lead.
I knew a man of this type, who was so certain that nothing serious could
possibly happen to him that he was perfectly nonchalant in every danger,
but his eye was always alert, his movements quick as a tiger's, and his
aim unflinching and sure.
One incident will serve to show this confidence and quickness of Carson.
While on Green River an Amerind stole six horses belonging to the trader
Robideau, who had employed him. Carson and a Ute pursued. The Ute's
horse gave out and he would not continue on foot, so Carson went on
alone thirty miles farther, and came up with the culprit. The thief saw
him and rushed for shelter, but Carson fired so skilfully from his horse
moving at full speed that he killed the wretch at once. His reputation
for skill and daring had spread before he was fairly of age. He fell in
with Fitzpatrick, Bridger, Sublette, Smith, and all the rest of the now
famous coterie of mountain men who so brilliantly adorned this epoch in
the Wilderness, and his career was filled with deeds of wild daring.[91]
He engaged one winter to hunt for the men at Fort Davy Crockett, founded
in Brown's Hole, and he then became familiar with the course of Green
River in that vicinity, though he seems never to have cared to attempt
the navigation of its impetuous torrent. The great rendezvous in Green
River Valley also saw him often and he described it. At the selected
place
"for the rendezvous, in the space of two or three miles upon either
side of the river, the bottom spreads out in a broad prairie, and
the luxuriant growth of grass, with the country open all about it,
made the spot desirable for a large encampment.... A scattered
growth of fine old trees furnishes shade at every camp, and
immediately about the great tent they afford protection from the
sun to parties of card players, or a 'Grocery Stand' at which the
principal article of sale is 'whiskey by the glass,' and perhaps
further on is a _monte_ table, parties from several Indian tribes,
and the pioneer of semi-civilisation—the backwoodsman—has come in
with his traps, a few bags of flour, and possibly some cheese and
butter, and the never-failing cask of whiskey."[92]
[Illustration: On the Yuma Desert. A Dying Horse.
Photograph by Delancy Gill.]
At such a place the trapper, who had led for a whole year his lonely
life in the mountains, ran riot for a brief time, as a sailor will after
a long voyage; and then he vanished again into the wilds.
Richard Campbell in 1827, with thirty-five men and a pack train,
travelled from Santa Fé to San Diego by way of Zuñi, and this part of
the continent at last began to be understood. Intercourse between St.
Louis and Santa Fé was gradually growing in permanence and importance.
Although McKnight, Chambers, Baird, and others had ventured to Santa Fé
to trade as early as 1812, the conditions were unfavourable. They were
seized as spies and thrown into jail at Chihuahua, where they remained
for nine years. Their goods were confiscated. When Iturbide finally
succeeded, they were liberated. Glenn and Fowler met them at Taos at
the time they arrived.
William Becknell went out in 1821 to trade with the Comanches, but
falling in with some Mexican rangers, they persuaded him to go to Santa
Fé, where he sold out at prices which netted splendid profits.
In 1822, a man named Cooper with his sons also made the traverse of the
plains with a party of about fifteen, arriving at Taos with $5000 worth
of goods; and Becknell a month later with thirty men came again with
another $5000 worth. He took a more direct route than had been followed
before, and his party had a fearful time, nearly dying of thirst in the
barren dry region along the Cimarron, a river they were quite near and
did not know it. At last when they were on the point of expiring, and
some had actually cut off their mules' ears to drink the blood that
would flow, they discovered a buffalo fresh from the river bank, its
sides distended with water. It was instantly killed and the water it
contained saved the party,—a new use for the animal.
This was the real beginning of the famous Santa Fé Trail by which the
great annual caravans found their way back and forth between Franklin,
on the Missouri, 150 miles west of St. Louis, and the New Mexican
capital. Independence finally became the eastern terminal. Gregg has
written an admirable account of the Trail, and all who read it will
acknowledge their indebtedness for the accuracy, interest, and general
excellence of this contribution to Southwestern history.
In 1824, an effort was made to use waggons. A party which had
twenty-five wheeled vehicles besides pack-animals, transporting all
together about $30,000 worth of merchandise, started and arrived
successfully. By government order J. C. Brown then, 1825-27, with chain
and compass surveyed the road from Fort Osage to Taos. The natives gave
little trouble in the early days of the trail, and Gregg says the great
hostility which afterwards developed was partly due to the brutality
of the whites in killing natives, whether they had done wrong or not.
Instead of mules, oxen were later largely employed. As far as Council
Grove the traders usually travelled in detached parties, but there the
caravan was made up with some attempt at military form. A captain was
always elected, but he had little real control. Gregg crossed in 1831
with a caravan which had nearly one hundred waggons, drawn by mules and
oxen in about equal proportions. The value of the goods was $200,000.
The party had two cannon, a four- and a six-pounder, for cannon were
considered highly desirable for this work at that time. There were
two hundred men organized in four divisions. A constant guard was set
and all precautions taken to prevent surprise. In Gregg's caravan were
several Spanish women who had, with their family, been banished in 1829.
The ban having been removed, they were now returning home. They appear
to have been the first European women ever to cross the Wilderness from
this direction.
The caravans, so far as possible, always proceeded with order and
regularity, and it is an illuminating fact that all parties in the
Wilderness which had such organisation and systematic movement met with
very little trouble. Ashley was another example of this. Everything
with him was admirably systematised. Each man knew exactly what he
had to do as to the horses and everything else. At night the animals
were tethered with a strong rope, attached to a stake two feet long,
expressly made for this and fortified with an iron band at the top and
an iron point. His party was divided into three or four sections with
his most confidential men in command, and the sections were subdivided
into messes under reliable men. When they went into camp, the position
of each mess was assigned, and they arranged their baggage, saddles,
etc., as a breastwork in case of attack in the night. The stock were
watered and turned over to the horse guard who kept them on good grass
nearby till sunset, when each man brought in the horses under his care,
put on a stronger halter, set his stakes, and otherwise prepared the
animals for a comfortable night. Guard was set regularly, of course,
and in the early morning, if in dangerous country, two men mounted and
scouted the neighbourhood before any others were permitted to leave the
breastworks. On the march, scouts were constantly thrown ahead, on the
sides, and to the rear. No enemy could surprise Ashley's parties, and
they were also enabled to cover ground rapidly.
"In this way [says Ashley] I have marched parties of men the
whole way from St. Louis to the vicinity of Grand Lake, which is
situated about 150 miles down the waters of the Pacific Ocean, in
seventy-eight days. In the month of March, 1827, I fitted out a
party of sixty men, mounted a piece of artillery (a four-pounder)
on a carriage which was drawn by two mules; the party marched to
or near the Grand Salt Lake beyond the Rocky Mountains, remained
there one month, stopped on the way back fifteen days, and returned
to Lexington in the western part of Missouri in September, where
the party was met with everything necessary for another outfit,
and did return (using the same horses and mules) to the mountains
by the last of November in the same year."
This proves what good planning and proper organisation will do. Had
Wilson Price Hunt been as scientific and as cautious as Ashley, his
great traverse would have been exempt from the harrowing disasters
which followed it so relentlessly. From that day to this, suffering and
failure have more often been due to contempt for adequate preparation
than to any other single cause.
The caravans of the Santa Fé Trail, also, moved with considerable
regularity and order, but their make-up was more heterogeneous and
there was no dominating control. Where there were many waggons, they
marched in three or four parallel columns, "but in broken lines, often
at intervals of many rods between." At night they were arranged in a
quadrangle with a gap left at the rear corner as an entrance for the
animals, which after grazing for a few hours were shut up in this corral
of waggons. One of the difficulties was the stampede. This frequently
started from some slight cause. The oxen, even if yoked, dashed at
headlong speed across the plain, with the mules and horses intermingled.
Oxen when frightened were the most difficult to control and did not
recover their calm as speedily as horses and mules.
Mules were the most advantageous, but were also the most expensive. They
possessed one characteristic which was useful as well as peculiar. They
could detect the presence or the approach of an Amerind long before
it could be learned in any other way, but I have seldom seen this
peculiarity noted. It was indicated by a restlessness, a pricking up of
the ears, and a general alertness as of a dog approaching game. When I
have been riding a mule in the mountains, I have often been apprised of
the approach of natives in this way, before I noticed any other sign. I
am satisfied that no Amerind could ever approach on the windward a mule
not accustomed to them, without being discovered. It used to afford us
amusement when an Amerind guide tried to mount a mule, and we sometimes
were forced to hold the animal securely till he could get on. With usual
mule perversity, once the native was in the saddle the scene calmed,
only to be repeated when he tried mounting again.
A cry of "Indians!" set the caravan in commotion, and amidst great
excitement all prepared for defence. If the party were a large one it
was seldom troubled, hence all who wished to cross combined, forming an
annual caravan for mutual protection which went out and back at fixed
periods, but sometimes small parties ran the risk of crossing alone.
[Illustration: An Old Beaver Haunt.
Photograph by F. S. Dellenbaugh.]
In the winter of 1832-33, twelve men with their baggage and about
$10,000 in specie left New Mexico for the States. They met a large
body of Comanches and Kiowas, who approached one by one and in small
bodies till they were all beside the travellers, who began to move
on. A man named Pratt, trying to herd in two mules, was shot. A battle
then opened. The white men made a breastwork of their packs and fought
desperately for thirty-six hours, when they made an effort to escape
in the night. The owners of the money told all to help themselves, and
what could not be carried was buried in the sand, where the Comanches
afterwards found it. The men stole away as quietly as possible in
the darkness. Five went west and at last reached a Creek village near
the Arkansas where they were kindly received. Only two of the others
succeeded in getting out of the Wilderness.
It was on the Santa Fé Trail in 1831 that the famous Jedediah Smith
finally lost his life. With his partners, Jackson and Sublette, he had
gone into the Santa Fé trade and was on his way to that capital. In
his remarkable career he had escaped many dangers, and he was still
a very young man, but his hour was approaching. He started for Santa
Fé over the general route, but after leaving the Arkansas became lost
among the multitudinous buffalo trails. Gregg says: "He was one of the
most undaunted spirits that ever traversed the Rocky Mountains, and
if one half of what has been told of him be true ... he would surely
be entitled to one of the most exalted seats in the Olympus of Prairie
Mythology." There was something highly dramatic in the lonely simplicity
of this dauntless trapper's death amidst a wide barren waste, at the
hands of the race he had so often successfully opposed and eluded. He
set off alone to find water for his party in the dreary expanse of the
Cimarron desert, when on mounting a hill he perceived what appeared to
be a small river. It was the sandy bed of the deceptive Cimarron. Smith
scooped out a basin in the moist sand and waited for the water to fill
it, unconscious of a band of Comanches lurking near. As he stooped to
drink, an arrow pierced him. With the indomitable tenacity and power
that so often had carried him through danger, he returned the fire and
two or three of the enemy paid with their lives the penalty of bringing
the gallant knight in buckskin to the ground. The picture was exactly
the composition one would expect to find surrounding the last hour of
this eminent and characteristic breaker of the Wilderness. His task
was done. Beside the treacherous Cimarron his bones are forgotten, but
his splendid fearlessness, his even justice, and his bold enterprise in
cleaving the silent mysteries have consecrated the sands that drank his
blood and dedicated the Wilderness to a lofty future.
[Illustration: The Heart of the Sierra.
Photograph by Watkins.]
He had a brother, Thomas L. Smith, equally energetic and fearless, but
who lacked the refined moral tone of Jedediah. He was widely known in
the Wilderness, though more after the manner of Rose and Beckwourth.
"Pegleg" Smith was his ordinary title because one leg had been cut
off below the knee. It had been so badly hurt in a battle that under
Pegleg's direction an Amerind companion amputated it with a hunting
knife and a keyhole saw. A wooden leg was then substituted. This did not
materially interfere with Pegleg's peculiar business, stealing horses
from the Mexicans and Californians, and trading horses, for he was in
the saddle a great deal and that was home to him. His operations had
a wide range. On one raid he succeeded with the aid of Beckwourth and
a band of Amerinds in getting out of California by the southern route
with about three thousand head; but, after the United States acquired
the Mexican territories, he gave up his raids as he would not operate
against his own countrymen.
The frontiersmen—trappers, hunters, and traders—had little respect for
the Mexicans, and the treatment which the cupidity of the officials led
them to bestow on trappers who came into their power tended to widen
the breach. All along the line, therefore, fires of resentment were
smouldering which before long were to break into flame and consume the
Mexican power in this quarter.
Gregg, who was nine years among them, said of the Mexicans[93]:
"They have no stability except in artifice; no profundity except
for intrigue; qualities for which they have acquired an unenviable
celebrity. Systematically cringing and subservient while out of
power, as soon as the august mantle of authority falls upon their
shoulders, there are but little bounds to their arrogance and
vindictiveness of spirit."
The Wilderness breaker had no fear whatever of these people, but much
contempt for them. A few trappers were generally a match for half an
army of Mexicans. Milton Sublette, a well-known trapper, brother of
William Sublette, while in New Mexico with Ewing Young, had his furs,
which he had concealed, seized and confiscated. The packs being damp
were spread out to dry, and Sublette recognised some unquestionably
belonging to him. Before the eyes of the whole garrison he carried these
away,
"and concealed both them and his own person in a house opposite.
The entire military force was immediately put in requisition and a
general search made for the offender and his prize—but in vain ...
the troops seemed to have as little desire to find Sublette as the
latter had of being found; for his character was too well known to
leave room for hope that his capture could be effected without a
great deal of trouble."
The governor, Armijo, "raved and threatened—had some cannon pointed
at the house—declaring he would batter it down—but all to no purpose."
Sublette finally got away with the furs.
For amusements, Santa Fé occupied itself largely with bull-baiting,
cock-fighting, dancing, and gambling. A considerable trade was carried
on with the Apaches, war materials and whiskey being exchanged for mules
and other property stolen from settlements to southward. The Sonoran
Government issued a proclamation declaring all booty that might be taken
from savages to belong to the captors, which led a party of foreigners
under the lead of an American to visit a large camp of about fifty
warriors with their families. Among these was Juan José, a famous chief
who had been educated at Chihuahua, and who had harassed the Mexicans
terribly. José was willing to either fight or trade,
"but on being assured that it was a trading party a friendly
interview was immediately established. A small field-piece which
had been concealed was loaded with chain and canister and held in
readiness. The warriors were then invited to the white men's camp
to receive a present of flour which was placed within range of the
cannon. While the Apaches were dividing this they were fired on and
a number were killed. The remainder were then attacked, and about
twenty slain, including José and other chiefs. Those who escaped
became afterwards their own avengers in a manner which proved
terribly disastrous to another party of Americans who happened at
the same time to be trapping on the Rio Gila not far distant. They
massacred every one—about fifteen."[94]
[Illustration: A Rose of New Mexico.
Photograph by C. C. Pierce & Co.]
From this time forth the Apaches became the open, deadly foe of all
Americans as they had previously been of the Mexicans. It became all
round a war of extermination which ended only when General Crook, many
years later, finally captured the last famous warrior, Geronimo. The
Apache has been much reviled, and he certainly was a terror and made
that portion of the Wilderness a dangerous place for Mexicans and
Americans, yet, estimated judicially, he seems to have had some right
on his side, and he was not more cruel or treacherous than the whites.
He went under eventually because of the overpowering numbers of his
opponents, but, considering all the circumstances, it is doubtful if
any people ever made a braver or more determined stand against their
acknowledged enemies and oppressors than did the Apaches.
Gold mines were now worked in New Mexico, _El Real de Dolores_, the
chief one, turning out about $75,000 a year between 1832-35. It was
opened in 1828. The gold was washed out in wooden bowls. No foreigners
were allowed to work mines, but, as noted, they were permitted to trap
because the Mexicans did not know how to do this. Besides, the governor
would often confiscate the results of the trapper's labours, and this
was an easy way of making money. Silver mines had been only slightly
worked in earlier days and not at all for a century. The copper mines
near Socorro were the most successful in the country, at least till the
gold mines began to be opened.
Everything was primitive. Sawed lumber was unknown. The buildings were
mainly of adobe. Vehicles were _carretas_ (carts) with wheels hewn out
of a cottonwood log, with an additional segment pinned on each edge and
dressed into an irregular circle (see page 177), and required three or
four yokes of oxen to draw them. Ploughs were no more than a log with
a branch left on for a handle and a sharp stick attached for a share.
Agriculture was correspondingly primitive in its returns, yet, thanks to
irrigation, there was generally an abundance of what was needed. Sheep
were bred in enormous numbers, as many as two hundred thousand to five
hundred thousand being driven to market in one year. Horses and cattle
were also numerous, and the skill of the _vaquero_, or herder, in riding
and throwing the lasso was unsurpassed. No horse was too fractious to
ride, and he could catch an animal by any limb he chose.
A favourite article of diet was the _tortillas_, made of corn boiled in
water with a little lime till soft enough for the skin to come off. Then
it was ground to a paste on the _metate_ a flat stone, and formed into a
thin cake, which was spread on a sheet of iron or copper, called a comal
(_comalli_), and placed over the fire, where it baked in two or three
minutes. A sort of thin mush called _atole_ was a favourite drink, and
there were also wine, and a sort of strong liquor called _aguardiente_
or _ratafia_ (Taos lightning). Taken all in all the American trapper did
not have such a bad time in New Mexico after it left the hands of Spain,
so far as the people were concerned, and had they despised the Mexicans
less, matters would have been pleasanter, though, as Gregg says, the
government was whimsical and oppressive, as much, however, to Mexicans
as to Americans.
[Illustration: On the Gila.
Photograph by J. B. Lippincott.]
A high tariff was laid on goods from the United States, though it was
generally compromised on the Mexican frontier. When Governor Armijo,
however, came in he imposed a tax of $500 on every waggon, no matter
what its size or contents. The result was that waggons grew to the
limit in proportions, and Armijo was obliged to go back to _ad valorem_
assessments. Between the Missouri River and the mountains there were no
settlements then, above Texas.
Thomas Forsyth, who had long experience among the people of the
Wilderness, said he thought that in most misunderstandings the fault was
with the white people. He told of a young agent on the Missouri River
who cut off the ears of a half-breed because, when drunk, he had spoken
disrespectfully of the Americans. Another agent on the Mississippi
turned out of the guard-house an innocent Indian to others, his enemies,
who butchered him in the presence of the whole garrison. Forsyth
remarks, also: "In my intercourse with the Indians for the last forty
years I never found that coercive measures ever had any good effect
with them, but that conciliatory measures always tended to produce every
purpose required."
The intercourse between the tribes of the Wilderness and the whites was
rapidly increasing, and this period—1830 to 1840—saw many hard conflicts
and much bloodshed, some of it, at least, entirely unnecessary. The
whites came with the firm belief that every native was an enemy, and
they sometimes took the precaution to shoot first and apologise, if at
all, afterwards.
Trappers and traders were now operating over all the Wilderness
excepting the portion which at present forms the central part of the
State of Nevada. As yet this had not been traversed by any but Jedediah
Smith for it was generally barren and streamless, with no beaver. Of
course, much of the remainder was still unexplored, yet the general
character was understood. Books on the fur trade are apt to give so
little account of the trapping operations in the South-west that the
reader obtains the impression that there was nothing done there, but
while no large company operated, bands of trappers for years ranged
the Gila and its tributaries, the lower Colorado, the Virgin, the Rio
Grande, the Sevier, and other streams in the south-western country where
beaver abounded and where some rich hauls were made, sometimes to be
confiscated by the Mexican officials or lost through the difficulties
of travel in that country.
William Wolfskill and a party of trappers in 1830 opened a route to
California, going north from Santa Fé across the head of the San Juan,
across Grand River, and Green River, the latter in what is now Gunnison
Valley, thence across the Wasatch to the western base, and south along
that through Mountain Meadows and across the Beaver Dam mountains.
Thence it followed down the Virgin River almost to the Colorado, where
it struck across the desert to Los Angeles. For many years afterwards
this was used and in time came to be known as "the Old Spanish Trail."
I have never been able to understand why this northern route was taken
when a much easier one existed by way of Zuñi and the Moki region. To
go north at all necessitated going as far as Gunnison Valley on account
of the deep canyons. The advantage of the mountains was certain water
and wood and grass, but this advantage was offset by the southern Nevada
region which is as barren as anything in Arizona, and in the latter
country the Colorado Plateau with its magnificent forest would have
afforded a beautiful resting-place. Wolfskill afterwards settled at Los
Angeles and planted a vineyard which became famous. Bell[95] says he
was a hero: "A man of indomitable will, industry, and self-denial; an
American pioneer hero; one who succeeds in all he undertakes, and is
always to be trusted. He died in 1866, leaving a very large fortune."
[Illustration: Captain Bonneville.
A General when this was taken, long after his trapping career.
Photograph from Montana Historical Society.]
The trappers and traders who entered the field in this fourth decade of
the century were so numerous that a very large volume would be required
to even sketch over their exploits. There was one, however, who,
because of his connection with the army and of his extensive though not
financially successful operations, must ever be prominently identified
with this particular epoch in the breaking of the Wilderness. This was
Bonneville, a captain in the American Army who had leave of absence to
conduct a fur-trading venture. Chittenden[96] is rather severe on the
genial captain, and says: "After all it will not be far wrong to say
that the greatest service which Captain Bonneville rendered his country
was by falling into the hands of Washington Irving." Unquestionably
Irving made the exploits of Bonneville tell to their full value, yet
while admitting that Bonneville was not scientific, that he improperly
overstayed his leave, and perhaps even more, he remains nevertheless
an extraordinary figure in the breaking of the Wilderness, and he
punctuated the explorations of a long period together with other
striking characters like Ashley and Frémont. As Lewis and Clark gave
the seal to the first decade of the century in this field, Lisa to
the second, Ashley to the third, so Bonneville gave it to the fourth,
and Frémont to the fifth. Irving's brilliant narrative may have done
much to distinguish Bonneville, and place his name ahead of Sublette,
Fitzpatrick, and others as a dominating note, but that does not detract
from his skill at manœuvring in the Wilderness. Chittenden further says:
"As the manager of an expedition and as a popular leader Bonneville
was a distinct success. Had his function been that of conducting a
party through the country, he might have rivalled Lewis and Clark
in the skill with which he could accomplish it. He managed his men
with great judgment, ... he remained three years in the mountains
without the loss of a single life where the men were in any wise
under his personal control."
It is rather unfortunate that he did not make exploration the basis of
his operations.
Benjamin Louis Eulalie de Bonneville was of French birth and graduated
from West Point in 1819 at the age of twenty-three. His family and La
Fayette were friends, and the General took young Bonneville back to
France, where he lived in the La Fayette household for several years. On
returning to the United States he was assigned to duty on the frontier
and there conceived the idea of getting rich in the fur business.
Granted leave of absence from August, 1831, till October, 1833, he
organised an expedition with the aid of Alfred Seton, who had been at
Astoria when that enterprise as an American venture went to pieces,
but whose faith in the fur trade was nevertheless very great. He and
his associates provided the funds and Bonneville was able to start in
May, 1832, some eight months of his leave already gone. He had 110 men
and twenty waggons drawn by horses and mules. His chief assistants were
Walker and Cerré, both well-known mountain men of great experience. Both
had been among the earliest to cross to Santa Fé.
Bonneville's waggons were not the first to enter the great Wilderness.
Becknell used waggons on the Santa Fé route at least seven years
earlier. Ashley took his wheeled cannon to Utah Lake in 1826, and
Sublette and Company had already taken waggons to Wind River. Bonneville
was the first to take them to Green River.
His route was up the Platte and the Sweetwater branch, over South Pass
to Green River Valley, preserving military discipline all the way and
meeting with no serious difficulty. Five miles above Horse Creek on
Green River he built his first trading fort of the common pattern, a
square stockade with bastions at diagonal corners. Little use was made
of it and it soon acquired the title of Fort Nonsense.
The competition for furs was rapidly growing more intense, for the
hundreds of skilful trappers who had now been ranging the beaver grounds
for a decade or more had perceptibly thinned them down. Each company
therefore threw every possible obstacle in the way of newcomers, as well
as of their older rivals. Bonneville felt the effects of this condition.
Some traders also had their native clients under such control that they
would not deal with any one else. Bonneville once thought he could drive
a trade with a tribe where their British visitor was short of goods,
but they would not deal with him at all.
Another man whose name is prominent at this time was Nathaniel J. Wyeth
of Boston, a man of fine character and hopeful disposition, but with no
experience in Wilderness life. All of his men were likewise innocent
of frontier knowledge. Before leaving Boston they had attracted much
attention by camping on an island in order to harden themselves for
the Wilderness! At Independence, Missouri, he was fortunate enough to
fall in with William Sublette and Robert Campbell, who were taking a
train of supplies out to the rendezvous. Wyeth therefore travelled with
them. He now had eighteen men, six having given up at Independence. He
had provided himself with waggons which could be converted into boats,
but at St. Louis, understanding that waggons could not be used, he sold
them and took to packs. He reached Pierre's Hole July 8, 1832, while
Bonneville came to Green River on the 27th of the same month, Wyeth
having passed him on the way.
Wyeth was desirous of reaching the Pacific coast early and did not
linger anywhere. He, with the Sublette party, had had a slight brush
with natives on Green River. In Pierre's Hole they were to add to that
experience. A band of Blackfeet having been treacherously fired on by
the whites, war began and all the trappers turned out to take part in
it. The battle was to the advantage of the whites, who were the larger
force and were armed with guns while the Amerinds had mostly bows. In
the night the Blackfeet made their escape, and this battle of Pierre's
Hole, about which much has been written, was over. It was enough for
seven of Wyeth's men, who now determined to return to civilisation. They
started back and five days later, in Jackson's Hole, were attacked by a
band of Blackfeet. One of the men, More, became demoralised with fright
and stood still till the enemy came and killed him. Two others, Foy
and Stephens, trying to get to More, were also shot, Foy dying on the
spot and Stephens several days later. The others succeeded in reaching
the camp of Milton Sublette, who had been shot in the shoulder in the
Pierre's Hole affair. As soon as he felt able to travel he started with
Campbell for St. Louis, and Wyeth's men accompanied them. They met with
no further difficulty. The Blackfeet all fell back into Green River
Valley, but did not molest Bonneville.
[Illustration: "Old Faithful" Geyser, Yellowstone Park.
From _Wonderland _, 1901—Northern Pacific Railway.]
The Captain presently decided to proceed to the head of Salmon River
to pitch his winter camp. Here among the friendly Nez Perces he and
his followers passed a pleasant season. Parties were sent in various
directions, and in the spring Bonneville went out on the plains of
Snake River. On the 13th of July, 1833, he was back again in Green
River Valley, and here he met the bands of trappers he had sent out the
previous autumn. Their success had been small. The valley was lively
with the returning trappers, not only of Bonneville, but of the American
Fur Company and the Rocky Mountain Fur Company, both having rendezvous
three or four miles from Bonneville. The intercourse of the various
camps was friendly and agreeable and the valley was for two or three
months, during the off season of trapping, a very gay place.
There was no danger of a hostile tribe attacking so large a body
of whites, hence life at the time of the rendezvous was free from
this fear. Another unusual and singular one came up however. A mad
wolf entered one of the camps and bit several, some of whom died of
hydrophobia. Mad wolves are rare, but there seems to be no doubt of
their occurrence. In recent years the young son of a man in southern
Utah, while camping out with another boy, was bitten in the night by
one of these animals, and shortly afterwards died in great agony.
Wyeth had travelled down Snake River, across the Blue Mountains, and
then down the Columbia to Fort Vancouver, making the first continuous
trip on record from the Atlantic to the Pacific, and the record trip was
all that he had to show for his investment and his exertions. Then he
turned round, heading once more for Boston, to form a company for the
prosecution of the salmon fishing. He was a man of elastic hopes, and
prepared to go again to the Pacific.
Bonneville, meanwhile, seemed not to notice that it was about time for
him either to return to his post or to apply for an extension of his
leave. He ignored the situation entirely. His packs of furs were sent
east, but the Captain sent no word to headquarters, and on his own
responsibility remained a trapper in the Wilderness.
[Illustration]
FOOTNOTES:
[91] There are several biographies of Carson.
[92] Burdette's _Life of Kit Carson_.
[93] _Commerce of the Prairies._
[94] Gregg, _Commerce of the Prairies_.
[95] _Reminiscences of a Ranger._
[96] _History of the American Fur Trade_—an admirable work.
He criticises Bancroft for speaking of Irving's book as _The
Adventures of Captain Bonneville_, but this was the title of the
edition of 1849.
[Illustration]