CLARKE'S RIVER.
AUG. 31.--Capt. Lewis, during the absence of his brother-officer, had
succeeded in procuring from the Indians, by barter, twenty-nine
horses,--not quite one for each man. Capt. Clarke having now rejoined
us, and the weather being fine, we loaded our horses, and prepared to
start. We took our leave of the Shoshonees, and accompanied by the old
guide, his four sons, and another Indian, began the descent of the
river, which Capt. Clarke had named Lewis's River. After riding twelve
miles, we encamped on the bank; and, as the hunters had brought in three
deer early in the morning, we did not feel in want of provisions.
On the 31st of August, we made eighteen miles. Here we left the track of
Capt. Clarke, and began to explore the new route recommended by the
Indian guide, and which was our last hope of getting out of the
mountains.
During all day, we rode over hills, from which are many drains and small
streams, and, at the distance of eighteen miles, came to a large creek,
called Fish Creek, emptying into the main river, which is about six
miles from us.
Sept. 2.--This morning, all the Indians left us, except the old guide,
who now conducted us up Fish Creek. We arrived shortly after at the
forks of the creek. The road we were following now turned in a contrary
direction to our course, and we were left without any track; but, as no
time was to be lost, we began to cut our road up the west branch of the
creek. This we effected with much difficulty. The thickets of trees and
brush through which we were obliged to cut our way required great labor.
Our course was over the steep and rocky sides of the hills, where the
horses could not move without danger of slipping down, while their feet
were bruised by the rocks, and stumps of trees. Accustomed as these
animals were to this kind of life, they suffered severely. Several of
them fell to some distance down the sides of the hills, some turned over
with the baggage, one was crippled, and two gave out exhausted with
fatigue. After crossing the creek several times, we had made five miles
with great labor, and encamped in a small, stony, low ground. It was
not, however, till after dark that the whole party was collected; and
then, as it rained, and we killed nothing, we passed an uncomfortable
night. We had been too busily occupied with the horses to make any
hunting excursion; and, though we saw many beaver-dams in the creek, we
saw none of the animals.
Next day, our experiences were much the same, with the addition of a
fall of snow at evening. The day following, we reached the head of a
stream which directed its course more to the westward, and followed it
till we discovered a large encampment of Indians. When we reached them,
and alighted from our horses, we were received with great cordiality. A
council was immediately assembled, white robes were thrown over our
shoulders, and the pipe of peace introduced. After this ceremony, as it
was too late to go any farther, we encamped, and continued smoking and
conversing with the chiefs till a late hour.
Next morning, we assembled the chiefs and warriors, and informed them
who we were, and the purpose for which we visited their country. All
this was, however, conveyed to them in so many different languages,
that it was not comprehended without difficulty. We therefore proceeded
to the more intelligible language of presents, and made four chiefs by
giving a medal and a small quantity of tobacco to each. We received in
turn, from the principal chiefs, a present, consisting of the skins of
an otter and two antelopes; and were treated by the women to some dried
roots and berries. We then began to traffic for horses, and succeeded in
exchanging seven, and purchasing eleven.
These Indians are a band of the Tushepaws, a numerous people of four
hundred and fifty tents, residing on the head waters of the Missouri and
Columbia Rivers, and some of them lower down the latter river. They
seemed kind and friendly, and willingly shared with us berries and
roots, which formed their only stock of provisions. Their only wealth is
their horses, which are very fine, and so numerous that this band had
with them at least five hundred.
We proceeded next day, and, taking a north-west direction, crossed,
within a distance of a mile and a half, a small river from the right.
This river is the main stream; and, when it reaches the end of the
valley, it is joined by two other streams. To the river thus formed we
gave the name of Clarke's River; he being the first white man who ever
visited its waters.
We followed the course of the river, which is from twenty-five to thirty
yards wide, shallow, and stony, with the low grounds on its borders
narrow; and encamped on its right bank, after making ten miles. Our
stock of flour was now exhausted, and we had but little corn; and, as
our hunters had killed nothing except two pheasants, our supper
consisted chiefly of berries.
The next day, and the next, we followed the river, which widened to
fifty yards, with a valley four or five miles broad. At ten miles from
our camp was a creek, which emptied itself on the west side of the
river. It was a fine bold creek of clear water, about twenty yards wide;
and we called it Traveller's Rest: for, as our guide told us we should
here leave the river, we determined to make some stay for the purpose of
collecting food, as the country through which we were to pass has no
game for a great distance.
Toward evening, one of the hunters returned with three Indians whom he
had met. We found that they were Tushepaw Flatheads in pursuit of
strayed horses. We gave them some boiled venison and a few presents,
such as a fish hook, a steel to strike fire, and a little powder; but
they seemed better pleased with a piece of ribbon which we tied in the
hair of each of them. Their people, they said, were numerous, and
resided on the great river in the plain below the mountains. From that
place, they added, the river was navigable to the ocean. The distance
from this place is five "sleeps," or days' journeys.
On resuming our route, we proceeded up the right side of the creek (thus
leaving Clarke's River), over a country, which, at first plain and good,
became afterwards as difficult as any we had yet traversed.
We had now reached the sources of Traveller's-rest Creek, and followed
the road, which became less rugged. At our encampment this night, the
game having entirely failed us, we killed a colt, on which we made a
hearty supper. We reached the river, which is here eighty yards wide,
with a swift current and a rocky channel. Its Indian name is
Kooskooskee.
KOOSKOOSKEE RIVER.
Sept. 16.--This morning, snow fell, and continued all day; so that by
evening it was six or eight inches deep. It covered the track so
completely, that we were obliged constantly to halt and examine, lest we
should lose the route. The road is, like that of yesterday, along steep
hillsides, obstructed with fallen timber, and a growth of eight
different species of pine, so thickly strewed, that the snow falls from
them upon us as we pass, keeping us continually wet to the skin. We
encamped in a piece of low ground, thickly timbered, but scarcely large
enough to permit us to lie level. We had made thirteen miles. We were
wet, cold, and hungry; yet we could not procure any game, and were
obliged to kill another horse for our supper. This want of provisions,
the extreme fatigue to which we were subjected, and the dreary prospect
before us, began to dispirit the men. They are growing weak, and losing
their flesh very fast.
After three days more of the same kind of experience, on Friday, 20th
September, an agreeable change occurred. Capt. Clarke, who had gone
forward in hopes of finding game, came suddenly upon a beautiful open
plain partially stocked with pine. Shortly after, he discovered three
Indian boys, who, observing the party, ran off, and hid themselves in
the grass. Capt. Clarke immediately alighted, and, giving his horse and
gun to one of the men, went after the boys. He soon relieved their
apprehensions, and sent them forward to the village, about a mile off,
with presents of small pieces of ribbon. Soon after the boys had
reached home, a man came out to meet the party, with great caution; but
he conducted them to a large tent in the village, and all the
inhabitants gathered round to view with a mixture of fear and pleasure
the wonderful strangers. The conductor now informed Capt. Clarke, by
signs, that the spacious tent was the residence of the great chief, who
had set out three days ago, with all the warriors, to attack some of
their enemies towards the south-west; that, in the mean time, there were
only a few men left to guard the women and children. They now set before
them a small piece of buffalo-meat, some dried salmon, berries, and
several kinds of roots. Among these last was one which is round, much
like an onion in appearance, and sweet to the taste. It is called
_quamash_, and is eaten either in its natural state, or boiled into a
kind of soup, or made into a cake, which is called _pasheco_. After our
long abstinence, this was a sumptuous repast. We returned the kindness
of the people with a few small presents, and then went on, in company
with one of the chiefs, to a second village in the same plain, at a
distance of two miles. Here the party was treated with great kindness,
and passed the night.
The two villages consist of about thirty double tents; and the people
call themselves Chopunnish, or Pierced-nose. The chief drew a chart of
the river on the sand, and explained that a greater chief than himself,
who governed this village, and was called the Twisted-hair, was now
fishing at the distance of half a day's ride down the river. His chart
made the Kooskooskee to fork a little below his camp, below which the
river passed the mountains. Here was a great fall of water, near which
lived white people, from whom they procured the white beads and brass
ornaments worn by the women.
Capt. Clarke engaged an Indian to guide him to the Twisted-hair's camp.
For twelve miles, they proceeded through the plain before they reached
the river-hills, which are very high and steep. The whole valley from
these hills to the Rocky Mountains is a beautiful level country, with a
rich soil covered with grass. There is, however, but little timber, and
the ground is badly watered. The plain is so much sheltered by the
surrounding hills, that the weather is quite warm (Sept. 21), while the
cold of the mountains was extreme.
From the top of the river-hills we descended for three miles till we
reached the water-side, between eleven and twelve o'clock at night.
Here we found a small camp of five women and three children; the chief
himself being encamped, with two others, on a small island in the river.
The guide called to him, and he came over. Capt. Clarke gave him a
medal, and they smoked together till one o'clock.
Next day, Capt. Clarke passed over to the island with the Twisted-hair,
who seemed to be cheerful and sincere. The hunters brought in three
deer; after which Capt. Clarke left his party, and, accompanied by the
Twisted-hair and his son, rode back to the village, where he found Capt.
Lewis and his party just arrived.
The plains were now crowded with Indians, who came to see the white men
and the strange things they brought with them; but, as our guide was a
perfect stranger to their language, we could converse by signs only. Our
inquiries were chiefly directed to the situation of the country. The
Twisted-hair drew a chart of the river on a white elk-skin. According to
this, the Kooskooskee forks a few miles from this place: two days'
journey towards the south is another and larger fork, on which the
Shoshonee Indians fish; five days' journey farther is a large river from
the north-west, into which Clarke's River empties itself. From the
junction with that river to the falls is five days' journey farther. On
all the forks, as well as on the main river, great numbers of Indians
reside; and at the falls are establishments of whites. This was the
story of the Twisted-hair.
Provision here was abundant. We purchased a quantity of fish, berries,
and roots; and in the afternoon went on to the second village. We
continued our purchases, and obtained as much provision as our horses
could carry in their present weak condition. Great crowds of the natives
are round us all night; but we have not yet missed any thing, except a
knife and a few other small articles.
Sept. 24.--The weather is fair. All round the village the women are
busily employed in gathering and dressing the pasheco-root, large
quantities of which are heaped up in piles all over the plain.
We feel severely the consequence of eating heartily after our late
privations. Capt. Lewis and two of his men were taken very ill last
evening, and to-day he can hardly sit on his horse. Others could not
mount without help; and some were forced to lie down by the side of the
road for some time.
Our situation rendered it necessary to husband our remaining strength;
and it was determined to proceed down the river in canoes. Capt. Clarke
therefore set out with Twisted-hair and two young men in quest of timber
for canoes.
Sept. 27, 28, and 29.--Sickness continued. Few of the men were able to
work; yet preparations were made for making five canoes. A number of
Indians collect about us in the course of the day to gaze at the strange
appearance of every thing belonging to us.
Oct. 4.--The men were now much better, and Capt. Lewis so far recovered
as to walk about a little. The canoes being nearly finished, it became
necessary to dispose of the horses. They were therefore collected to the
number of thirty-eight, and, being branded and marked, were delivered to
three Indians,--the two brothers and the son of a chief; the chief
having promised to accompany us down the river. To each of these men we
gave a knife and some small articles; and they agreed to take good care
of the horses till our return.
We had all our saddles buried in a _cache_ near the river, about half a
mile below, and deposited at the same time a canister of powder and a
bag of balls.
THE VOYAGE DOWN THE KOOSKOOSKEE RIVER.
Oct. 7.--This morning, all the canoes were put in the water, and loaded,
the oars fitted, and every preparation made for setting out. When we
were all ready, the chief who had promised to accompany us was not to be
found: we therefore proceeded without him. The Kooskooskee is a clear,
rapid stream, with a number of shoals and difficult places. This day and
the next, we made a distance of fifty miles. We passed several
encampments of Indians on the islands and near the rapids, which
situations are chosen as the most convenient for taking salmon. At one
of these camps we found the chief, who, after promising to descend the
river with us, had left us. He, however, willingly came on board, after
we had gone through the ceremony of smoking.
Oct. 10.--A fine morning. We loaded the canoes, and set off at seven
o'clock. After passing twenty miles, we landed below the junction of a
large fork of the river, from the south. Our arrival soon attracted the
attention of the Indians, who flocked from all directions to see us.
Being again reduced to fish and roots, we made an experiment to vary our
food by purchasing a few dogs; and, after having been accustomed to
horse-flesh, felt no disrelish to this new dish. The Chopunnish have
great numbers of dogs, but never use them for food; and our feeding on
the flesh of that animal brought us into ridicule as dog-eaters.
This southern branch is, in fact, the main stream of Lewis's River, on
whose upper waters we encamped when among the Shoshonees. At its mouth,
Lewis's River is about two hundred and fifty yards wide, and its water
is of a greenish-blue color. The Kooskooskee, whose waters are clear as
crystal, is one hundred and fifty yards in width; and, after the union,
the joint-stream extends to the width of three hundred yards.
The Chopunnish, or Pierced-nose Indians, who reside on the Kooskooskee
and Lewis's Rivers, are in person stout, portly, well-looking men. The
women are small, with good features, and generally handsome, though the
complexion of both sexes is darker than that of the Tushepaws. In dress,
they resemble that nation, being fond of displaying their ornaments. The
buffalo or elk-skin robe, decorated with beads, sea-shells (chiefly
mother-of-pearl), attached to an otter-skin collar, is the dress of the
men. The same ornaments are hung in the hair, which falls in front in
two cues: they add feathers, paints of different colors (principally
white, green, and blue), which they find in their own country. In
winter, they wear a shirt of dressed skins; long, painted leggings, and
moccasons; and a plait of twisted grass round the neck.
The dress of the women is more simple, consisting of a long shirt of the
mountain-sheep skin, reaching down to the ankles, without a girdle. To
this are tied little pieces of brass and shells, and other small
articles; but the head is not at all ornamented.
The Chopunnish have few amusements; for their life is painful and
laborious, and all their exertions are necessary to earn a precarious
subsistence. During the summer and autumn, they are busily occupied in
fishing for salmon, and collecting their winter store of roots. In
winter, they hunt the deer on snow-shoes over the plains; and, towards
spring, cross the mountains to the Missouri in pursuit of the buffalo.
The soil of these prairies is a light-yellow clay. It is barren, and
produces little more than a bearded grass about three inches high, and
the prickly-pear, of which we found three species. The first is the
broad-leaved kind, common to this river with the Missouri; the second
has a leaf of a globular form, and is also frequent on the upper part
of the Missouri; the third is peculiar to this country. It consists of
small, thick leaves of a circular form, which grow from the margin of
each other. These leaves are armed with a great number of thorns, which
are strong, and appear to be barbed. As the leaf itself is very slightly
attached to the stem, as soon as one thorn touches the moccason, it
adheres, and brings with it the leaf, which is accompanied with a
re-enforcement of thorns. This species was a greater annoyance on our
march than either of the others.