THE ROCKY MOUNTAINS.
May 17.--The country along the Rocky Mountains, for several hundred
miles in length and fifty in width, is a high level plain; in all its
parts extremely fertile, and in many places covered with a growth of
tall, long-leaved pine. Nearly the whole of this wide tract is covered
with a profusion of grass and plants, which are at this time as high as
the knee. Among these are a variety of esculent plants and roots,
yielding a nutritious and agreeable food. The air is pure and dry; the
climate as mild as that of the same latitudes in the Atlantic States,
and must be equally healthy, since all the disorders which we have
witnessed may fairly be imputed to other causes than the climate. Of
course, the degrees of heat and cold obey the influence of situation.
Thus the rains of the low grounds are snows in the high plains; and,
while the sun shines with intense heat in the confined river-bottoms,
the plains enjoy a much cooler air; and, at the foot of the mountains,
the snows are even now many feet in depth.
CROSSING THE MOUNTAINS.
An attempt to cross the mountains in the early part of June failed on
account of the snow, which still covered the track. It was plain we
should have no chance of finding either grass or underwood for our
horses. To proceed, therefore, would be to hazard the loss of our
horses; in which case, if we should be so fortunate as to escape with
our lives, we should be obliged to abandon our papers and collections.
It was accordingly decided not to venture farther; to deposit here all
the baggage and provisions for which we had no immediate use, and to
return to some spot where we might live by hunting till the snow should
have melted, or a guide be procured to conduct us. We submitted, June
17, to the mortification of retracing our steps three days' march.
On the 24th June, having been so fortunate as to engage three Indians to
go with us to the falls of the Missouri for the compensation of two
guns, we set out on our second attempt to cross the mountains. On
reaching the place where we had left our baggage, we found our deposit
perfectly safe. It required two hours to arrange our baggage, and
prepare a hasty meal; after which the guides urged us to set off, as we
had a long ride to make before we could reach a spot where there was
grass for our horses. We mounted, and followed their steps; sometimes
crossed abruptly steep hills, and then wound along their sides, near
tremendous precipices, where, had our horses slipped, we should have
been irrecoverably lost. Our route lay along the ridges which separate
the waters of the Kooskooskee and Chopunnish, and above the heads of all
the streams; so that we met no running water. Late in the evening, we
reached a spot where we encamped near a good spring of water. It was on
the steep side of a mountain, with no wood, and a fair southern aspect,
from which the snow seemed to have disappeared for about ten days, and
an abundant growth of young grass, like greensward, had sprung up. There
was also a species of grass not unlike flag, with a broad succulent
leaf, which is confined to the upper parts of the mountains. It is a
favorite food with the horses; but it was then either covered with snow,
or just making its appearance.
June 27.--We continued our route over the high and steep hills of the
same great ridge. At eight miles' distance, we reached an eminence where
the Indians have raised a conical mound of stone six or eight feet high.
From this spot we have a commanding view of the surrounding mountains,
which so completely enclose us, that, although we have once passed them,
we should despair of ever escaping from them without the assistance of
the Indians; but our guides traverse this trackless region with a kind
of instinctive sagacity. They never hesitate; they are never
embarrassed; yet so undeviating is their step, that, wherever the snow
has disappeared for even a hundred paces, we find the summer road. With
their aid, the snow is scarcely a disadvantage; for although we are
often obliged to slide down, yet the fallen timber and the rocks, which
are now covered up, were much more troublesome when we passed in the
autumn.
NOTE. A later traveller through this region writes, "The
mountains are indeed _rocky_. They are rocks heaped upon rocks,
with no vegetation, excepting a few cedars growing out of the
crevices near their base. Their tops are covered with perpetual
snow. The main ridge of the mountains is of _gneiss_ rock; yet,
to-day, parallel ridges of a rock, nearly allied to _basalt_,
have abounded. These ridges appear to be volcanic, forced up in
_dikes_ at different distances from each other, running from
east-north-east to west-south-west. The strata are mostly
vertical; but some are a little dipped to the south.
"Our encampment was near a small stream which runs through a
volcanic chasm, which is more than a hundred feet deep, with
perpendicular sides. Here was a passage made for the _water_ by
_fire_."
THE PARTY AGREE TO SEPARATE.
July 3, 1806.--It was agreed here that the expedition should be divided,
to unite again at the confluence of the Missouri and the Yellowstone.
The separation took place near the point where Clarke's River is crossed
by the forty-seventh parallel of latitude. Capt. Lewis, with nine men,
was to cross the mountains in a direction as nearly due east as
possible, expecting to find some tributary of the Missouri, by following
which he might reach that river, and by it retrace his way homeward.
Capt. Clarke, with the remainder of the party, was to seek the head
waters of the Yellowstone, and follow that stream to the proposed place
of re-union.
In conformity with this arrangement, Capt. Lewis, under the guidance of
friendly Indians, crossed the mountains by a route which led him, after
travelling one hundred and four miles, to Medicine River, and by that
river to the Missouri. He reached the falls of the Missouri on the 17th
of July, and leaving there a portion of his party, under Sergt. Gass, to
make preparations for transporting their baggage and canoes round the
falls, set out, accompanied by Drewyer and the two brothers Fields, with
six horses, to explore Maria's River, to ascertain its extent toward the
north. From the 18th to the 26th, they were engaged in this exploration.
On the eve of their return, an event occurred, which, being the only
instance in which the expedition was engaged in any conflict with the
Indians with loss of life, requires to be particularly related.
CONFLICT WITH THE INDIANS.
We were passing through a region frequented by the Minnetarees, a band
of Indians noted for their thievish propensities and unfriendly
dispositions. Capt. Lewis was therefore desirous to avoid meeting with
them. Drewyer had been sent out for game, and Capt. Lewis ascended a
hill to look over the country. Scarcely had he reached the top, when he
saw, about a mile on his left, a collection of about thirty horses. By
the aid of his spy-glass, he discovered that one-half of the horses
were saddled, and that, on the eminence above the horses, several
Indians were looking down towards the river, probably at Drewyer. This
was a most unwelcome sight. Their probable numbers rendered any contest
with them of doubtful issue. To attempt to escape would only invite
pursuit; and our horses were so bad, that we must certainly be
overtaken: besides which, Drewyer could not yet be aware that Indians
were near; and, if we ran, he would most probably be sacrificed. We
therefore determined to make the best of our situation, and advance
towards them in a friendly manner. The flag which we had brought in case
of such an emergency was therefore displayed, and we continued slowly
our march towards them. Their whole attention was so engaged by Drewyer,
that they did not immediately discover us. As soon as they did so, they
appeared to be much alarmed, and ran about in confusion. When we came
within a quarter of a mile, one of the Indians mounted, and rode towards
us. When within a hundred paces of us, he halted; and Capt. Lewis, who
had alighted to receive him, held out his hand, and beckoned him to
approach: but he only looked at us, and then, without saying a word,
returned to his companions.
The whole party now descended the hill, and rode towards us. As yet we
saw only eight, but presumed that there must be more behind, as there
were several more horses saddled. Capt. Lewis had with him but two men;
and he told them his fears that these were Indians of the Minnetaree
tribe, and that they would attempt to rob us, and advised them to be on
the alert, should there appear any disposition to attack us.
When the two parties came within a hundred yards of each other, all the
Indians, except one, halted. Capt. Lewis therefore ordered his two men
to halt, while he advanced, and, after shaking hands with the Indian,
went on and did the same with the others in the rear, while the Indian
himself shook hands with our two men. They all now came up; and, after
alighting, the Indians asked to smoke with us. Capt. Lewis, who was very
anxious for Drewyer's safety, told them that the man who had gone down
the river had the pipe, and requested, that, as they had seen him, one
of them would accompany R. Fields to bring him back. To this they
assented; and Fields went with a young man in search of Drewyer, who
returned with them.
As it was growing late, Capt. Lewis proposed that they should encamp
with us; for he was glad to see them, and had a great deal to say to
them. They assented; and, being soon joined by Drewyer, the evening was
spent in conversation with the Indians, in which Capt. Lewis endeavored
to persuade them to cultivate peace with their neighbors. Finding them
very fond of the pipe, Capt. Lewis, who was desirous of keeping a
constant watch during the night, smoked with them to a late hour; and,
as soon as they were all asleep, he woke R. Fields, and ordering him to
rouse us all in case any Indian left the camp, as he feared they would
attempt to steal our horses, he lay down by the side of Drewyer in the
tent with the Indians, while the brothers Fields were stretched near the
fire at the mouth of the tent.
At sunrise, the Indians got up, and crowded round the fire, near which
J. Fields, who was then on watch, had carelessly left his rifle, near
the head of his brother, who was asleep. One of the Indians slipped
behind him, and, unperceived, took his brother's and his own rifle;
while at the same time two others seized those of Drewyer and Capt.
Lewis. As soon as Fields turned round, he saw the Indian running off
with the rifles; and, instantly calling his brother, they pursued him
for fifty or sixty yards; and just as they overtook him, in the scuffle
for the rifles, R. Fields stabbed him through the heart with his knife.
The Indian ran a few steps, and fell dead. They recovered their rifles,
and ran back to the camp.
The moment the fellow touched his gun, Drewyer, who was awake, jumped
up, and wrested it from him. The noise awoke Capt. Lewis, who instantly
started from the ground, and reached to seize his gun, but found it
gone, and, turning about, saw the Indian running off with it. He
followed, and called to him to lay down the gun; which he did. By this
time, the rest of the Indians were endeavoring to drive off our horses;
and Capt. Lewis ordered his men to follow them, and fire upon the
thieves if they did not release our horses. The result was, that we
recovered four of our horses, and as many of theirs which they had left
behind; so that we were rather gainers by the contest. Besides the
Indian killed by Fields, one other was badly wounded.
We had no doubt but that we should be immediately pursued by a much
larger party. Our only chance of safety was in rejoining our friends,
who were many miles distant. We therefore pushed our horses as fast as
we could; and, fortunately for us, the Indian horses proved very good.
The plains were level, free from stones and prickly-pears, and in fine
order for travelling over from the late rains. We commenced our ride in
the early morning. At three o'clock, we had ridden, by estimate,
sixty-three miles. We halted for an hour and a half to refresh our
horses; then pursued our journey seventeen miles farther, when, as night
came on, we killed a buffalo, and again stopped for two hours. The sky
was now overclouded; but, as the moon gave light enough to show us the
route, we continued for twenty miles farther, and then, exhausted with
fatigue, halted at two in the morning. Next day, we rejoined the main
body of our party in safety.
Capt. Lewis with his companions pursued their way down the Missouri,
passing those points already noticed in their ascent. Our narrative,
therefore, will leave them here, and attend the course of Capt. Clarke
and his party down the Yellowstone.