|LA BONTE and his companions proceeded up the river, the Black Hills on
their left hand, from which several small creeks or feeders swell the
waters of the North Fork. Along these they hunted unsuccessfully for
beaver sign, and it was evident the spring hunt had almost exterminated
the animal in this vicinity. Following Deer Creek to the ridge of the
Black Hills, they crossed the mountain on to the waters of the Medicine
Bow, and here they discovered a few lodges, and La Bonté set his first
trap. He and old Luke finding cuttings near the camp, followed the
sign along the bank, until the practiced eye of the latter discovered
a slide, where the beaver had ascended the bank to chop the trunk of
a cottonwood, and convey the bark to its lodge. Taking a trap from his
sack, the old hunter, after setting the trigger, placed it carefully
under the water, where the slide entered the stream, securing the chain
to the stem of a sapling on the bank; while a stick, also attached to
the trap by a thong, floated down the stream, to mark the position of
the trap should the animal carry it away. A little further on, and near
another run, three traps were set; and over these Luke placed a little
stick, which he first dipped into a mysterious-looking phial containing
his "medicine." *
* A substance obtained from a gland in the scrotum of the
beaver, and used to attract that animal to the trap.
The next morning they visited the traps, and had the satisfaction of
finding three fine beaver secured in the first three they visited,
and the fourth, which had been carried away, they discovered by the
float-stick a little distance down the stream, with a large drowned
beaver between its teeth.
The animals being carefully skinned, they returned to camp with the
choicest portions of the meat, and the tails, on which they most
luxuriously supped; and La Bonté was fain to confess that all his
ideas of the superexcellence of buffalo were thrown in the shade by the
delicious beaver-tail, the rich meat of which he was compelled to allow
was "great eating," unsurpassed by tenderloin or "boudin," or other meat
of whatever kind he had eaten of before.
The country where La Bonté and his companions were trapping is very
curiously situated in the extensive bend of the Platte which incloses
the Black Hill range on the north, and which bounds the large expanse of
broken tract known as the Laramie Plains, their southern limit being the
base of the Medicine Bow Mountains. From the north-western corner of
the bend, an inconsiderable range extends to the westward, gradually
increasing in height until it reaches an elevated plain, which forms a
break in the stupendous chain of the Rocky Mountains, and affords the
easy passage now known as the Great, or South Pass. So gradual is the
ascent of this portion of the mountain, that the traveler can scarcely
believe he is crossing the dividing ridge between the waters which flow
into the Atlantic and Pacific Oceans, and that in a few minutes he
can fling two sticks into two neighboring streams, one to be carried
thousands of miles, traversed by the eastern waters in their course to
the Gulf of Mexico, the other to be borne a lesser distance to the Gulf
of California.
The country is frequented by the Crows and Snakes, who are at perpetual
war with the Shians and Sioux, following them often far down the Platte,
where many bloody battles have taken place. The Crows are esteemed
friendly to the whites; but when on war expeditions, and "hair" their
object, it is always dangerous to fall in with Indian war-parties, and
particularly in the remote regions of the mountains, where they do not
anticipate retaliation.
Trapping with tolerable success in this vicinity, the hunters crossed
over, as soon as the premonitory storms of approaching winter warned
them to leave the mountains, to the waters of Green River, one of the
affluents of the Colorado, intending to winter at a rendezvous to be
held in Brown's Hole--an inclosed valley so called--which, abounding
in game, and sheltered on every side by lofty mountains, is a favorite
wintering-ground of the mountaineers. Here they found several trapping
bands already arrived; and a trader from the Uintah country, with store
of powder, lead, and tobacco, prepared to ease them of their hard-earned
peltries.
Singly, and in bands numbering from two to ten, the trappers dropped
into the rendezvous; some with many pack-loads of beaver, others with
greater or less quantity, and more than one on foot, having lost his
animals and peltry by Indian thieving. Here were soon congregated many
mountaineers, whose names are famous in the history of the Far West.
Fitzpatrick and Hatcher, and old Bill Williams, well-known leaders of
trapping parties, soon arrived with their bands. Sublette came in with
his men from Yellow Stone, and many of Wyeth's New Englanders were
there. Chabonard with his half-breeds, Wah-keitchas all, brought his
peltries from the lower country; and half-a-dozen Shawanee and Delaware
Indians, with a Mexican from Taos, one Marcelline, a fine strapping
fellow, the best trapper and hunter in the mountains, and ever first in
the fight. Here, too, arrived the "Bourgeois" traders of the "North West
* Company," with their superior equipments, ready to meet their trappers,
and purchase the beaver at an equitable value; and soon the trade
opened, and the encampment assumed a busy appearance.
* The Hudson's Bay Company is so called by the American
trappers.
A curious assemblage did the rendezvous present, and representatives of
many a land met there. A son of _la belle France_ here lit his pipe from
one proffered by a native of New Mexico. An Englishman and a Sandwich
Islander cut a quid from the same plug of tobacco. A Swede and an old
Virginian puffed together. A Shawanee blew a peaceful cloud with a scion
of the Six Nations. One from the Land of Cakes--a canny chiel--sought
to "great round" (in trade) a right "smart" Yankee, but couldn't
"shine."
The beaver went briskly, six dollars being the price paid per lb. in
goods--for money is seldom given in the mountain market, where beaver is
cash, for which the articles supplied by the traders are bartered. In a
very short time peltries of every description had changed hands, either
by trade, or by gambling with cards and betting. With the mountain-men
bets decide every question that is raised, even the most trivial; and if
the editor of "Bell's Life" were to pay one of these rendezvous a winter
visit, he would find the broad sheet of his paper hardly capacious
enough to answer all the questions which would be referred to his
decision.
Before the winter was over, La Bonté had lost all traces of civilized
humanity, and might justly claim to be considered as "hard a case" as
any of the mountaineers then present. Long before the spring opened,
he had lost all the produce of his hunt and both his animals, which,
however, by a stroke of luck, he recovered, and wisely held on to for
the future. Right glad when spring appeared, he started from Brown's
Hole, with four companions, to hunt the Uintah or Snake country, and the
affluents of the larger streams which rise in that region and fall into
the Gulf of California.
In the valley of the Bear River they found beaver abundant, and trapped
their way westward until they came upon the famed locality of the Beer
and Soda Springs--natural fountains of mineral water, renowned amongst
the trappers as being "medicine" of the first order.
Arriving one evening, about sundown, at the Bear Spring, they found a
solitary trapper sitting over the rocky basin, intently regarding, with
no little awe, the curious phenomenon of the bubbling gas. Behind him
were piled his saddles and a pack of skins, and at a little distance a
hobbled Indian pony fed amongst the cedars which formed a grove round
the spring. As the three hunters dismounted from their animals, the lone
trapper scarcely noticed their arrival, his eyes being still intently
fixed upon the water. Looking round at last, he was instantly recognized
by one of La Bonté's companions, and saluted as "Old Rube." Dressed from
head to foot in buckskin, his face, neck, and hands appeared to be of
the same leathery texture, so nearly did they assimilate in color to
the materials of his dress. He was at least six feet two or three in his
moccasins, straight-limbed and wiry, with long arms ending in hands of
tremendous grasp, and a quantity of straight black hair hanging on his
shoulders. His features, which were undeniably good, wore an expression
of comical gravity, never relaxing into a smile, which a broad
good-humored mouth could have grinned from ear to ear.
"What, boys!" he said, "will you be simple enough to camp here alongside
these springs? Nothing good ever came of sleeping here, I tell you, and
the worst kind of devils are in those dancing waters."
"Why, old hoss," cried La Bonté, "what brings you hyar then, and camp at
that?"
"This nigger," answered Rube, solemnly, "has been down'd upon a sight
too often to be skeared by what can come out from them waters; and thar
am't a devil as hisses thar as can shine with this child, I tell you.
I've tried him onest, an' fout him to clawin' away to Eustis; * and if
I draws my knife again on such varmint, I'll raise his hair, as sure as
shootin'."
* A small lake near the head-waters of the Yellow Stone,
near which are some curious thermal springs of ink-black
water.
Spite of the reputed dangers of the locality, the trappers camped on the
spot, and many a draught of the delicious sparkling water they quaffed
in honor of the "medicine" of the fount. Rube, however, sat sulky and
silent, his huge form bending over his legs, which were crossed, Indian
fashion, under him, and his long bony fingers spread over the fire,
which had been made handy to the spring. At last they elicited from
him that he had sought this spot for the purpose of "_making medicine_"
having been persecuted by extraordinary ill-luck, even at this early
period of his hunt--the Indians having stolen two out of his three
animals, and three of his half-dozen traps. He had therefore sought
the springs for the purpose of invoking the fountain spirits, which, a
perfect Indian in his simple heart, he implicitly believed to inhabit
their mysterious waters. When the others had, as he thought, fallen
asleep, La Bonté observed the ill-starred trapper take from his pouch a
curiously-carved red stone pipe, which he carefully charged with tobacco
and kinnik-kinnik. Then approaching the spring, he walked three times
round it, and gravely sat himself down. Striking fire with his flint and
steel, he lit his pipe, and bending the stem three several times towards
the water, he inhaled a vast quantity of smoke, and bending back his
neck and looking upwards, puffed it into the air. He then blew another
puff towards the four points of the compass, and emptying the pipe into
his hand, cast the consecrated contents into the spring, saying a few
Indian "medicine" words of cabalistic import. Having performed the
ceremony to his satisfaction, he returned to the fire, smoked a pipe on
his own hook, and turned into his buffalo-robe, conscious of having done
a most important duty.
In the course of their trapping expedition, and accompanied by Rube,
who knew the country well, they passed near the Great Salt Lake, a vast
inland sea, whose salitrose waters cover an extent of upwards of one
hundred and forty miles in length, by eighty in breadth. Fed by several
streams, of which the Big Bear River is the most considerable, this
lake presents the curious phenomenon of a vast body of water without any
known outlet. According to the trappers, an island, from which rises a
chain of lofty mountains, nearly divides the north-western portion of
the lake, whilst a smaller one, within twelve miles of the northern
shore, rises six hundred feet from the level of the water. Rube declared
to his companions that the larger island was known by the Indians to be
inhabited by a race of giants, with whom no communication had ever been
held by mortal man; and but for the casual wafting to the shores of the
lake of logs of gigantic trees, cut by axes of extraordinary size, the
world would never have known that such a people existed. They were,
moreover, white as themselves, and lived upon corn and fruits, and rode
on elephants, &c.
Whilst following a small creek at the southwest extremity of the lake,
they came upon a band of miserable Indians, who, from the fact of their
subsisting chiefly on roots, are called the Diggers. At first sight
of the whites they immediately fled from their wretched huts, and made
towards the mountains; but one of the trappers, galloping up on his
horse, cut off their retreat, and drove them like sheep before him back
to their village. A few of these wretched creatures came into camp at
sundown, and were regaled with such meat as the larder afforded. They
appeared to have no other food in their village but bags of dried
ants and their larvae, and a few roots of the yampah. Their huts
were constructed of a few bushes of greasewood, piled up as a sort of
windbreak, in which they huddled in their filthy skins. During the night
they crawled up to the camp and stole two of the horses, and the next
morning not a sign of them was visible. Now La Bonté witnessed a case of
mountain law, and the practical effects of the _lex talionis_ of the Far
West.
The trail of the runaway Diggers bore to the north-west, or along the
skirt of a barren waterless desert, which stretches far away from the
southern shores of the Salt Lake to the borders of Upper California.
La Bonté, with three others, determined to follow the thieves, recover
their animals, and then rejoin the other two (Luke and Rube) on a creek
two days' journey from their present camp. Starting at sunrise, they
rode on at a rapid pace all day, closely following the trail, which led
directly to the north-west, through a wretched sandy country, without
game or water. From the appearance of the track, the Indians must still
have been several hours ahead of them, when the fatigue of their horses,
suffering from want of grass and water, compelled them to camp near the
head of a small water-course, where they luckily found a hole containing
a little water, and whence a broad Indian trail passed, apparently
frequently used. Long before daylight they were again in the saddle,
and, after proceeding a few miles, saw the lights of several fires a
short distance ahead of them. Halting here, one of the party advanced on
foot to reconnoiter, and presently returned with the intelligence that
the party they were in pursuit of had joined a village numbering thirty
or forty huts.
Loosening their girths, they permitted their tired animals to feed
on the scanty herbage which presented itself, whilst they refreshed
themselves with a pipe of tobacco--for they had no meat of any
description with them, and the country afforded no game. As the first
streak of dawn appeared in the east, they mounted their horses, after
first examining their rifles, and moved cautiously towards the Indian
village. As it was scarcely light enough for their operations, they
waited behind a sandhill in the vicinity until objects became more
distinct; and then, emerging from their cover with loud war-whoops, they
charged abreast into the midst of the village.
As the frightened Indians were scarcely risen from their beds, no
opposition was given to the daring mountaineers, who, rushing upon
the flying crowd, discharged their rifles at close quarters, and then,
springing from their horses, attacked them knife in hand, and only
ceased the work of butchery when nine Indians lay dead upon the ground.
All this time the women, half dead with fright, were huddled together on
the ground, howling piteously; and the mountaineers, advancing to them,
whirled their lassos round their heads, and, throwing the open nooses
into the midst, hauled out three of them, and securing their arms in the
rope, bound them to a tree, and then proceeded to scalp the dead bodies.
Whilst they were engaged in this work, an old Indian, withered and
grisly, and hardly bigger than an ape, suddenly emerged from a rock,
holding in his left hand a bow and a handful of arrows, whilst one was
already drawn to the head. Running towards them, and almost before the
hunters were aware of his presence, he discharged an arrow at a few
yards' distance, which buried itself in the ground not a foot from La
Bonté's head as he bent over the body of the Indian he was scalping; and
hardly had the whiz ceased, when whirr flew another, striking him in his
right shoulder. Before the Indian could fit a third arrow to his bow, La
Bonté sprang upon him, seized him by the middle, and spinning his pigmy
form round his head as easily as he would have twirled a tomahawk, he
threw him with tremendous force on the ground at the feet of one of
his companions, who, stooping down, coolly thrust his knife into the
Indian's breast, and quickly tore off his scalp.
The slaughter over, without casting an eye to the captive squaws, the
trappers proceeded to search the village for food, of which they stood
much in need. Nothing, however, was found but a few bags of dried ants,
which, after eating voraciously of, but with wry mouths, they threw
aside, saying the food was worse than "poor bull." They found, however,
the animals they had been robbed of, and two more besides--wretched
half-starved creatures; and on these mounting their captives, they
hurried away on their journey back to their companions, the distance
being computed at three days' travel from their present position.
However, they thought, by taking a more direct course, they might find
better pasture for their animals, and water, besides saving at least
half a day by the short cut.
To their cost, they proved the old saying, that "a short cut is always a
long road," as will be presently shown.
It has been said that from the south-western extremity of the Great
Salt Lake a vast desert extends for hundreds of miles, unbroken by the
slightest vegetation, destitute of game and water, and presenting a
cheerless expanse of sandy plain or rugged mountain, thinly covered
with dwarf pine or cedar, the only evidence of vegetable life. Into this
desert, ignorant of the country, the trappers struck, intending to make
their short cut; and, traveling on all day, were compelled to camp
at night without water or pasture for their exhausted animals, and
themselves ravenous with hunger and parched with thirst. The next
day three of their animals gave out, and they were fain to leave them
behind; but imagining that they must soon strike a creek, they pushed on
until noon, but still no water presented itself, nor a sign of game of
any description. The animals were nearly exhausted, and a horse which
could scarcely keep up with the slow pace of the others was killed, and
its blood greedily drunk--a portion of the flesh being eaten raw, and a
supply carried with them for future emergencies.
The next morning two of the horses lay dead at their pickets, and one
only remained, and this in such a miserable state that it could not
possibly have traveled six miles further. It was therefore killed,
and its blood drunk, of which, however, the captive squaws refused to
partake. The men began to feel the effects of their consuming thirst,
which the hot horse's blood only served to increase; their lips became
parched and swollen, their eyes bloodshot, and a giddy sickness seized
them at intervals. About mid-day they came in sight of a mountain
on their right hand, which appeared to be more thickly clothed with
vegetation; and arguing from this that water would be found there, they
left their course and made towards it, although some eight or ten miles
distant. On arriving at the base, the most minute search failed to
discover the slightest traces of water, and the vegetation merely
consisted of dwarf pinon and cedar. With their sufferings increased
by the exertion they had used in reaching the mountain, they once more
sought the trail, but every step told on their exhausted frames. The
sun was very powerful; the sand over which they floundered was deep and
heavy; and, to complete their sufferings, a high wind blew it in their
faces, filling their mouths and noses with its searching particles.
Still they struggled onwards manfully, and not a murmur was heard until
their hunger had entered the _second stage_ upon the road to starvation.
They had now been three days without food or water, under which
privation nature can hardly sustain herself for a much longer period.
On the fourth morning the men looked wolfish, their captives following
behind in sullen and perfect indifference, occasionally stooping down to
catch a beetle if one presented itself, and greedily devouring it. A
man named Forey, * a Canadian half-breed, was the first to complain.
"If this lasted another sundown," he said, "some of them would be rubbed
out; that meat had to be raised anyhow; and for his part, he knew where
to look for a feed, if no game was seen before they put out of camp on
the morrow; and meat was meat, anyhow they fixed it."
* Also known as Furey. (Ed.)
No answer was made to this, though his companions well understood him:
their natures as yet revolted against the last expedient. As for the
three squaws, all of them young girls, they followed behind their
captors without a word of complaint, and with the stoical indifference
to pain and suffering which alike characterizes the haughty Delaware
of the North and the miserable stunted Digger of the deserts of the
Far West. On the morning of the fifth day the party were seated round a
small fire of pinon, hardly able to rise and commence their journey, the
squaws squatting over another at a little distance, when Forey commenced
again to suggest that, if nothing offered, they must either take the
alternative of starving to death--for they could not hope to last
another day:--or have recourse to the revolting extremity of
sacrificing one of the party to save the lives of all. To this, however,
there was a murmur of dissent, and it was finally resolved that all
should sally out and hunt, for a deer-track had been discovered near the
camp, which, although it was not a fresh one, proved that there must be
game in the vicinity. Weak and exhausted as they were, they took their
rifles and started for the neighboring uplands, each taking a different
direction.
It was nearly sunset when La Bonté returned to the camp, where he
already espied one of his companions engaged in cooking something over
the fire. Hurrying to the spot, overjoyed with the anticipations of a
feast, he observed that the squaws were gone; but, at the same time,
thought it was not improbable they had escaped during their absence.
Approaching the fire, he observed Forey broiling some meat on the
embers, whilst at a little distance lay what he fancied was the carcass
of a deer.
"Hurrah, boy!" he exclaimed, as he drew near the fire. "You've made a
raise, I see."
"_Well_, I have," rejoined the other, turning his meat with the point of
his butcher-knife. "There's the meat, hoss--help yourself."
La Bonté drew his knife from the scabbard, and approached the spot
his companion was pointing to; but what was his horror to see the yet
quivering body of one of the Indian squaws, with a large portion of
the flesh butchered from it, part of which Forey was already greedily
devouring. The knife dropped from his hand, and his heart rose to his
throat.
The next day he and his companion struck the creek where Rube and the
other trapper had agreed to await them, and found them in camp with
plenty of meat, and about to start again on their hunt, having given up
the others for lost. From the day they parted, nothing was ever heard
of La Bonté's other two companions, who doubtless fell a prey to utter
exhaustion, and were unable to return to the camp. And thus ended the
Digger expedition.
It may appear almost incredible that men having civilized blood in their
veins could perpetrate such wanton and cold-blooded acts of aggression
on the wretched Indians as that detailed above; but it is fact that the
mountaineers never lose an opportunity of slaughtering these miserable
Diggers, and attacking their villages, often for the purpose of
capturing women, whom they carry off, and not unfrequently sell to
other tribes, or to each other. In these attacks neither sex nor age
is spared; and your mountaineer has as little compunction in taking
the life of an Indian woman, as he would have in sending his rifle-ball
through the brain of a Crow or Black-foot warrior.
La Bonté now found himself without animals, and fairly afoot;
consequently nothing remained for him but to seek some of the trapping
bands, and hire himself for the hunt. Luckily for him, he soon fell in
with Roubideau, on his way to Uintah, and was supplied by him with a
couple of animals; and thus equipped, he started again with a large band
of trappers, who were going to hunt on the waters of Grand River and
the Gila. Here they fell in with another nation of Indians, from which
branch out the innumerable tribes inhabiting Northern Mexico and part
of California. They were in general friendly, but lost no opportunity
of stealing horses or any articles left lying about the camp. On one
occasion, the trappers being camped on a northern affluent of the Gila,
a volley of arrows was discharged amongst them, severely wounding one or
two of the party as they sat round the camp-fires. The attack, however,
was not renewed, and the next day the camp was moved further down the
stream, where beaver was tolerably abundant. Before sundown a number of
Indians made their appearance, and, making signs of peace, were admitted
into the camp.
The trappers were all sitting at their suppers over the fires, the
Indians looking gravely on, when it was remarked that now would be a
good opportunity to retaliate upon them for the trouble their incessant
attacks had entailed upon the camp. The suggestion was highly approved
of, and instantly acted upon. Springing to their feet, the trappers
seized their rifles, and commenced the slaughter. The Indians,
panic-struck, fled without resistance, and numbers fell before the
death-dealing rifles of the mountaineers. A chief, who had been sitting
on a rock near the fire where the leader of the trappers sat, had been
singled out by the latter as the first mark for his rifle.
Placing the muzzle to his heart, he pulled the trigger, but the
Indian, with extraordinary tenacity of life, rose and grappled with his
assailant. The white was a tall powerful man, but notwithstanding the
deadly wound the Indian had received, he had his equal in strength to
contend against. The naked form of the Indian twisted and writhed in his
grasp as he sought to avoid the trapper's uplifted knife. Many of the
lat-ter's companions advanced to administer the _coup-de-grace_ to the
savage, but the trapper cried to them to keep off: "If he couldn't whip
the Injun," he said "he'd go under."
At length he succeeded in throwing him, and, plunging his knife no
less than seven times into his body, he tore off his scalp, and went in
pursuit of the flying savages. In the course of an hour or two all the
party returned, and, sitting by the fires, resumed their suppers, which
had been interrupted in the manner just described. Walker, the captain
of the band, sat down by the fire where he had been engaged in the
struggle with the Indian chief, whose body was lying within a few paces
of it. He was in the act of fighting the battle over again to one of his
companions, and was saying that the Indian had as much life in him as
a buffalo bull, when, to the horror of all present, the savage, who had
received wounds sufficient for twenty deaths, suddenly rose to a sitting
posture, the fire shedding a glowing light upon the horrid spectacle.
The face was a mass of clotted blood, which flowed from the lacerated
scalp, whilst gouts of blood streamed from eight gaping wounds in the
naked breast.
Slowly this frightful figure rose to a sitting posture, and, bending
slowly forward to the fire, the mouth was seen to open wide, and a
hollow gurgling--owg-h-h--broke from it.
"H--!" exclaimed the trapper--and jumping up, he placed a pistol to the
ghastly head, the eyes of which sternly fixed themselves on his, and,
pulling the trigger, blew the poor wretch's skull to atoms.
The Gila passes through a barren sandy country, with but little game,
and sparsely inhabited by several different tribes of the great nation
of the Apache. Unlike the rivers of this western region, this stream
is, in most parts of its course, particularly towards its upper waters,
entirely bare of timber, and the bottom, through which it runs, affords
but little of the coarsest grass.
Whilst on this stream, the trapping party lost several animals for want
of pasture, and many more from the predatory attacks of the cunning
Indians. These losses, however, they invariably made good whenever they
encountered a native village--taking care, moreover, to repay themselves
with interest whenever occasion offered.
Notwithstanding the sterile nature of the country, the trappers, during
their passage up the Gila, saw with astonishment that the arid and
barren valley had once been peopled by a race of men far superior to
the present nomad tribes who roam over it. With no little awe they gazed
upon the ruined walls of large cities, and the remains of houses, with
their ponderous beams and joists, still testifying to the skill and
industry with which they were constructed: huge ditches and irrigating
canals, now filled with rank vegetation, furrowed the plains in the
vicinity, marking the spot where once green waving maize and smiling
gardens covered what now is a bare and sandy desert. Pieces of broken
pottery, of domestic utensils, stained with bright colors, everywhere
strewed the ground; and spear and arrow heads of stone, and
quaintly-carved idols, and women's ornaments of agate and obsidian,
were picked up often by the wondering trappers, examined with childlike
curiosity, and thrown carelessly aside. *
* The Aztecs are supposed to have built this city during
their migration to the south: there is little doubt,
however, but that the region extending from the Gila to the
Great Salt Lake, and embracing the province of New Mexico,
was the locality from which they emigrated.
A Taos Indian, who was amongst the band, was evidently impressed with
a melancholy awe as he regarded these ancient monuments of his fallen
people. At midnight he rose from his blanket and left the camp, which
was in the vicinity of the ruined city, stealthily picking his way
through the line of slumbering forms which lay around; and the watchful
sentinel observed him approach the ruins with a slow and reverential
gait. Entering the moldering walls, he gazed silently around, where in
ages past his ancestors trod proudly, a civilized race, the tradition
of which, well known to his people, served but to make their present
degraded position more galling and apparent. Cowering under the shadow
of a crumbling wall, the Indian drew his blanket over his head,
and conjured to his mind's eye the former power and grandeur of his
race--that warlike people who, forsaking their own country for causes of
which no tradition, however dim, now exists, sought in the fruitful and
teeming valleys of the south a soil and climate which their own lands
did not afford, and, displacing the wild and barbarous hordes
inhabiting the land, raised there a mighty empire, great in riches and
civilization.
The Indian bowed his head, and mourned the fallen greatness of his
tribe. Rising, he slowly drew his tattered blanket round his body, and
prepared to leave the spot, when the shadow of a moving figure, creeping
past a gap in the ruined wall through which the moonbeams played,
suddenly arrested his attention. Rigid as a statue, he stood transfixed
to the spot, thinking a former inhabitant of the city was visiting, in
a ghostly form, the scenes his body once knew so well. The bow in his
right hand shook with fear as he saw the shadow approach, but was as
tightly and steadily grasped when, on the figure emerging from the shade
of the wall, he distinguished the form of a naked Apache, armed with bow
and arrow, crawling stealthily through the gloomy ruins.
Standing undiscovered within the shadow of the wall, the Taos raised his
bow, and drew an arrow to the head, until the other, who was bending low
to keep under cover of the wall, and thus approach the sentinel standing
at a short distance, seeing suddenly the well-defined shadow on the
ground, rose upright on his legs, and, knowing escape was impossible,
threw his arms down his sides, and, drawing himself erect, exclaimed in
a suppressed tone, "Wa-g-h!"
"Wagh!" exclaimed the Taos likewise, but quickly dropped his arrow
point, and eased the bow.
"What does my brother want," he asked, "that he lopes like a wolf round
the fires of the white hunters?"
"Is my brother's skin not red?" returned the Apache, "and yet he asks
question that needs no answer. Why does the medicine-wolf follow the
buffalo and deer? For blood--and for blood the Indian follows the
treacherous white from camp to camp, to strike blow for blow, until the
deaths of those so basely killed are fully avenged."
"My brother speaks with a big heart, and his words are true; and though
the Taos and Pimo (Apache) black their faces towards each other (are
at war), here, on the graves of their common fathers, there is peace
between them. Let my brother go."
The Apache moved quickly away, and the Taos once more sought the
camp-fires of his white companions.
Following the course of the Gila to the eastward, they crossed a range
of the Sierra Madre, which is a continuation of the Rocky Mountains,
and struck the waters of the Rio del Norte below the settlements of
New Mexico. On this stream they fared well; besides trapping a great
quantity of beaver, game of all kinds abounded, and the bluffs near the
well-timbered banks of the river were covered with rich gramma grass, on
which their half-starved animals speedily improved in condition.
They remained for some weeks encamped on the right bank of the stream,
during which period they lost one of their number, shot with an arrow
whilst lying asleep within a few feet of the camp-fire.
The Navajos continually prowl along that portion of the river which
runs through the settlements of New Mexico, preying upon the cowardly
inhabitants, and running off with their cattle whenever they are exposed
in sufficient numbers to tempt them. Whilst ascending the river, the
trappers met a party of these Indians returning to their mountain homes
with a large band of mules and horses, which they had taken from one
of the Mexican towns, besides several women and children, whom they had
captured as slaves. The main body of the trappers halting, ten of the
band followed and charged upon the Indians who numbered at least sixty,
killed seven of them, and retook the prisoners and the whole cavallada
of horses and mules. Great were the rejoicings when they entered
Socorro, the town whence the women and children had been taken, and as
loud the remonstrances when, handing them over to their families, the
trappers rode on, driving fifty of the best of the rescued animals
before them, which they retained as payment for their services.
Messengers were sent on to Albuquerque with intelligence of the
proceeding; and as troops were stationed there, the commandant was
applied to, to chastise the insolent whites.
That warrior, on learning that the trappers numbered less than fifteen,
became alarmingly brave, and ordering out the whole of his disposable
force, some two hundred dragoons, sallied out to intercept the audacious
mountaineers. About noon one day, just as the latter had emerged from a
little town between Socorro and Albuquerque, they descried the imposing
force of the dragoons winding along a plain ahead. As the trappers
advanced, the officer in command halted his men, and sent out a
trumpeter to order the former to await his coming. Treating the herald
to a roar of laughter, on they went, and, as they approached the
soldiers, broke into a trot, ten of the number forming line in front
of the packed and loose animals, and, rifle in hand, charging with loud
whoops. This was enough for the New Mexicans. Before the enemy were
within shooting distance the gallant fellows turned tail, and splashed
into the river, dragging themselves up the opposite bank like half-dr
owned rats, and saluted with loud peals of laughter by the victorious
mountaineers, who, firing a volley into the air in token of supreme
contempt, quietly continued their route up the stream.
Before reaching the capital of the province they struck again to the
westward, and, following a small creek to its junction with the Green
River, ascended that stream, trapping _en route_ to the Uintah or Snake
Fork, and arrived at Roubideau's rendezvous early in the fall, where
they quickly disposed of their peltries, and were once more on "the
loose."
Here La Bonté married a Snake squaw, with whom he crossed the mountains
and proceeded to the Platte through the Bayou Salade, where he purchased
of the Yutas, a commodious lodge, with the necessary poles, &c.; and
being now rich in mules and horses, and in all things necessary for
_otium cum dignitate_, he took unto himself another wife, as by mountain
law allowed; and thus equipped, with both his better halves attired in
all the glory of "fofarraw," he went his way rejoicing.
In a snug little valley lying under the shadow of the mountains, watered
by Vermilion Creek, and in which abundance of buffalo, elk, deer, and
antelope fed and fattened on the rich grass, La Bonté raised his lodge,
employing himself in hunting, and fully occupying his wives' time
in dressing the skins of the many animals he killed. Here he enjoyed
himself amazingly until the commencement of winter, when he determined
to cross to the North Fork and trade his skins, of which he had now as
many packs as his animals could carry. It happened that he one day left
his camp, to spend a couple of days hunting buffalo in the mountains,
whither the bulls were now resorting, intending to "put out" for Platte
on his return. His hunt, however, led him farther into the mountains
than he anticipated, and it was only on the third day that sundown saw
him enter the little valley where his camp was situated.
Crossing the creek, he was not a little disturbed at seeing fresh Indian
sign on the opposite side, which led in the direction of his lodge; and
his worst fears were realized when, on coming within sight of the little
plateau where the conical top of his white lodge had always before met
his view, he saw nothing but a blackened mass strewing the ground, and
the burnt ends of the poles which had once supported it.
Squaws, animals, and peltry, all were gone--an Arapaho moccasin lying on
the ground told him where. He neither fumed nor fretted, but, throwing
the meat off his pack animal, and the saddle from his horse, he
collected the blackened ends of the lodge poles and made a fire--led
his beasts to water and hobbled them, threw a piece of buffalo-meat upon
the coals, squatted down before the fire, and lit his pipe. La Bonté
was a true philosopher. Notwithstanding that his house, his squaws, his
peltries, were gone at one fell swoop, the loss scarcely disturbed his
equanimity; and before the tobacco in his pipe was half smoked out, he
had ceased to think of his misfortune. Certes, as he turned his apolla
of tenderloin, he sighed as he thought of the delicate manipulations
with which his Shoshone squaw, Sah-qua-manish, was wont to beat to
tenderness the toughest bull meat--and missed the tending care of Yute
Chil-co-thë, or the "Reed that Bends," in patching the holes worn in his
neatly-fitting moccasins, the work of her nimble fingers. However, he
ate and smoked, and smoked and ate, and slept none the worse for his
mishap; thought, before he closed his eyes, a little of his lost wives,
and more perhaps of the "Bending Reed" than of Sah-qua-manish, or "She
Who Runs with the Stream"--drew his blanket tightly round him, felt his
rifle handy to his grasp, and was speedily asleep.
Whilst the tired mountaineer breathes heavily in his dream, careless and
unconscious that a living soul is near, his mule on a sudden pricks her
ears and stares into the gloom, whence a figure soon emerges, and with
noiseless steps draws near the sleeping hunter. Taking one look at the
slumbering form, the same figure approaches the fire and adds a log
to the pile; which done, it quietly seats itself at the feet of the
sleeper, and remains motionless as a statue.
Towards morning the hunter awoke, and, rubbing his eyes, was astonished
to feel the glowing warmth of the fire striking on his naked feet,
which, in Indian fashion, were stretched towards it; as by this time,
he knew, the fire he left burning must long since have expired. Lazily
raising himself on his elbow, he saw a figure sitting near it with the
back turned to him, which, although his exclamatory _wagh_ was loud,
enough in all conscience, remained perfectly motionless, until the
trapper, rising, placed his hand upon the shoulder: then, turning up
its face, the features displayed to his wondering eye were those of
Chil-co-thë, his Yuta wife. Yes, indeed, the "Bending Reed" had escaped
from her Arapaho captors, and made her way back to her white husband,
fasting and alone.
The Indian women who follow the fortunes of the white hunters are
remarkable for their affection and fidelity to their husbands, the
which, virtues, it must be remarked, are all on their own side; for,
with very few exceptions, the mountaineers seldom scruple to abandon
their Indian wives whenever the fancy takes them to change their harems;
and on such occasions the squaws, thus cast aside, wild with jealousy
and despair, have been not unfrequently known to take signal vengeance
both on their faithless husbands and on the successful beauties who
have supplanted them in their affections. There are some honorable
exceptions, however, to such cruelty, and many of the mountaineers stick
to their red-skinned wives for better and for worse, often suffering
them to gain the upper hand in the domestic economy of the lodges, and
being ruled by their better halves in all things pertaining to family
affairs; and it may be remarked that, when once the lady dons the
unmentionables, she becomes the veriest termagant that ever henpecked
an unfortunate husband. Your refined trappers, however, who, after many
years of bachelor life, incline to take to themselves a better half,
often undertake an expedition into the settlements of New Mexico, where
not unfrequently they adopt a Young Lochinvar system in procuring the
required rib, and have been known to carry off _vi et armis_, from the
midst of a fandango in Fernandez or El Rancho of Taos, some dark-skinned
beauty--with or without her own consent is a matter of unconcern--and
bear the ravished fair one across the mountains, where she soon becomes
inured to the free and roving life fate has assigned her.
American women are valued at a low figure in the mountains. They are too
fine and "fofarraw."
Neither can they make moccasins, or dress skins; nor are they so
schooled to perfect obedience to their lords and masters as to stand a
"lodge-poling," which the western lords of the creation not unfrequently
deem it their bounden duty to inflict upon their squaws for some
dereliction of domestic duty.
To return, however, to La Bonté. That worthy thought himself a lucky man
to have lost but one of his wives, and she the worst of the two. "Here's
the beauty," he philosophized, "of having two wiping-sticks to your
rifle; if one breaks whilst ramming down a ball, there's still hickory
left to supply its place." Although, with animals and peltry, he had
lost several hundred dollars' worth of "possibles," he never groaned or
grumbled. "There's redskin will pay for this," he once muttered, and was
done.
Packing all that was left on the mule, and mounting Chil-co-thë on his
buffalo horse, he shouldered his rifle and struck the Indian trail for
Platte. On Horse Creek they came upon a party of French * trappers and
hunters, who were encamped with their lodges and Indian squaws, and
formed quite a village. Several old companions were amongst them; and,
to celebrate the arrival of a "camarade," a splendid dog-feast was
prepared in honor of the event. To effect this, the squaws sallied out
of their lodges to seize upon sundry of the younger and plumper of the
pack, to fill the kettles for the approaching feast. With a presentiment
of the fate in store for them, the curs slunk away with tails between
their legs, and declined the pressing invitations of the anxious squaws.
These shouldered their tomahawks and gave chase; but the cunning pups
outstripped them, and would have fairly beaten the kettles, if some of
the mountaineers had not stepped out with their rifles, and quickly laid
half-a-dozen ready to the knife. A cayeute, attracted by the scent of
blood, drew near, unwitting of the canine feast in progress, and was
likewise soon made _dog_ of, and thrust into the boiling kettle with the
rest.
* Creoles of St. Louis, and French Canadians.
The feast that night was long protracted; and so savory was the stew,
and so agreeable to the palates of the hungry hunters, that at the
moment the last morsel was drawn from the pot, when all were regretting
that a few more dogs had not been slaughtered, a wolfish-looking cur,
who incautiously poked his long nose and head under the lodge skin,
was pounced upon by the nearest hunter, who in a moment drew his knife
across the animal's throat, and threw it to a squaw to skin and prepare
for the pot. The wolf had long since been vigorously discussed, and
voted by all hands to be "good as dog."
"Meat's meat," is a common saying in the mountains, and from the buffalo
down to the rattlesnake, including every quadruped that runs, every fowl
that flies, and every reptile that creeps, nothing comes amiss to the
mountaineer. Throwing aside all the qualms and conscientious scruples of
a fastidious stomach, it must be confessed that _dog-meat_ takes a high
rank in the wonderful variety of cuisine afforded to the gourmand and
the gourmet by the prolific mountains. Now, when the bill of fare offers
such tempting viands as buf-falo-beef, venison, mountain mutton, turkey,
grouse, wild-fowl, hares, rabbits, beaver and their tails, &c., &c.,
the station assigned to dog as No. 2 in the list can be well
appreciated---No. 1. in delicacy of flavor, richness of meat, and other
good qualities, being the flesh of _panthers_, which surpasses every
other, and all put together. *
* The excellence of panther meat is praised by Hart Merriam
in his "Mammals of the Adirondacks." (Ed.)
"Painter meat can't 'shine with this," says a hunter, to express the
delicious flavor of an extraordinary cut of tenderloin or delicate
fleece.
La Bonté started with his squaw for the North Fork early in November,
and arrived at the Laramie at the moment that the big village of the
Sioux came up for their winter trade. Two other villages were encamped
lower down the Platte, including the Brûlés and the Yanka-taus, who
were now on more friendly terms with the whites. The first band numbered
several hundred lodges, and presented quite an imposing appearance, the
village being laid out in parallel lines, the lodge of each chief being
marked with his particular totem. The traders had a particular portion
of the village allotted to them, and a line was marked out, which
was strictly kept by the soldiers appointed for the protection of the
whites. As there were many rival traders, and numerous _coureurs des
bois_, or peddling ones, the market promised to be brisk, the more so as
a large quantity of ardent spirits was in their possession, which would
be dealt with no unsparing hand to put down the opposition of so many
competing traders.
In opening a trade, a quantity of liquor is first given "on the
prairie," * as the Indians express it in words, or by signs in rubbing
the palm of one hand quickly across the other, holding both flat.
Having once tasted the pernicious liquid, there is no fear but they will
quickly come to terms; and not unfrequently the spirit is drugged, to
render the unfortunate Indians still more helpless. Sometimes, maddened
and infuriated by drink, they commit the most horrid atrocities on
each other, murdering and mutilating in a barbarous manner, and often
attempting the lives of the traders themselves. On one occasion a
band of Sioux, whilst under the influence of liquor, attacked and took
possession of a trading fort of the American Fur Company, stripping it
of everything it contained, and roasting the trader himself over his own
fire.
* "On the prairie" is the Indian term for a free gift.
The principle on which the nefarious trade is conducted is this,--that
the Indians, possessing a certain quantity of buffalo-robes, have to
be cheated out of them, and the sooner the better. Although it is
explicitly prohibited by the laws of the United States to convey spirits
across the Indian frontier, and its introduction amongst the Indian
tribes subjects the offender to a heavy penalty, yet the infraction of
this law is of daily occurrence, perpetrated almost in the very presence
of the Government officers, who are stationed along the frontier for the
purpose of enforcing the laws for the protection of the Indians.
The misery entailed upon these unhappy people by the illicit traffic
must be seen to be fully appreciated. Before the effects of the
poisonous "firewater," they disappear from the earth like snow before
the sun. Although aware of the destruction it entails upon them, the
poor wretches have not moral courage to shun the fatal allurement it
holds out to them of wild excitement and a temporary oblivion of their
many sufferings and privations. With such palpable effects, it appears
only likely that the illegal trade is connived at by those whose policy
it has ever been, gradually, but surely, to exterminate the Indians, and
by any means to extinguish their title to the few lands they now own on
the outskirts of civilization. Certain it is that large quantities of
liquor find their way annually into the Indian country, and as certain
are the fatal results of the pernicious system, and that the American
Government takes no steps to prevent it. * There are some tribes who
have as yet withstood the great temptation, and have resolutely
refused to permit liquor to be brought into their villages. The marked
difference between the improved condition of these, and the moral and
physical abasement of those which give way to the fatal passion for
drinking, sufficiently proves the pernicious effects of the liquor-trade
on the unfortunate and abused aborigines; and it is matter of regret
that no philanthropist has sprung up in the United States to do battle
for the rights of the Red Men, and call attention to the wrongs they
endure at the hands of their supplanters in the lands of their fathers.
* This is an exaggeration. The laws against sale of liquor
to the Indians were strict, and the chief difficulty of the
fur companies was to evade Government agents who searched
their outbound cargoes and often made seizures. Still, there
doubtless was much collusion. (Ed.)
Robbed of their homes and hunting-grounds, and driven by the
encroachments of the whites to distant regions, which hardly support
existence, the Indians, day by day, gradually decrease before the
accumulating evils of body and soul, which their civilized persecutors
entail upon them. With every man's hand against them, they drag on to
their final destiny; and the day is not far distant when the American
Indian will exist only in the traditions of his pale-faced conquerors.
The Indians trading at this time on the Platte were mostly of the Sioux
nation, including the tribes of Burnt-woods, Yanka-taus, Pian-Kashas,
Assinaboins, Oglallahs, Broken Arrows, all of which belong to the great
Sioux nation, or La-cotahs, as they call themselves, and which means
Cut-throats. There were also some Cheyennes allied to the Sioux, as well
as a small band of Republican Pawnees.
Horse-racing, gambling, and ball-play served to pass away the time
until the trade commenced, and many packs of dressed robes changed
hands amongst themselves. When playing at the usual game of "hand," the
stakes, comprising all the valuables the players possess, are piled
in two heaps close at hand, the winner at the conclusion of the game
sweeping the goods towards him, and often returning a small portion "on
the prairie," with which the loser may again commence operations with
another player.
The game of "hand" is played by two persons. One, who commences, places
a plum or cherry stone in the hollow formed by joining the concaved
palms of the hands together; then, shaking the stone for a few moments,
the hands are suddenly separated, and the other player must guess which
hand now contains the stone.
Large bets are often wagered on the result of this favorite game, which
is also often played by the squaws, the men standing round encouraging
them to bet, and laughing loudly at their grotesque excitement.
A Burnt-wood Sioux, Tah-tunganisha, one of the bravest chiefs of his
tribe, was out, when a young man, on a solitary war expedition against
the Crows. One evening he drew near a certain "medicine" spring,
where, to his astonishment, he encountered a Crow warrior in the act of
quenching his thirst. He was on the point of drawing his bow upon him,
when he remembered the sacred nature of the spot, and making the sign of
peace, he fearlessly drew near his foe, and proceeded likewise to slake
his thirst. A pipe of kinnikkinnik being produced, it was proposed
to pass away the early part of the night in a game of "hand." They
accordingly sat down beside the spring and commenced the game.
Fortune favored the Crow. He won arrow after arrow from the Burnt-wood
brave; then his bow, his club, his knife, his robe, all followed,
and the Sioux sat naked on the plain. Still he proposed another stake
against the other's winnings--his scalp. He played and lost; and
bending forward his head, the Crow warrior drew his knife and quickly
removed the bleeding prize. Without a murmur the luckless Sioux rose to
depart, but first exacted a promise from his antagonist that he would
meet him once more at the same spot, and engage in another trial of
skill.
On the day appointed, the Burnt-wood sought the spot, with a new
equipment, and again the Crow made his appearance, and they sat down
to play. This time fortune changed sides; the Sioux won back his former
losses, and in his turn the Crow was stripped to his skin.
Scalp against scalp was now the stake, and this time the Crow submitted
his head to the victorious Burnt-wood's knife; and both the warriors
stood scalpless on the plain.
And now the Crow had but one single stake of value to offer, and the
offer of it he did not hesitate to make. He staked his life against the
other's winnings. They played; and fortune still being adverse, he lost.
He offered his breast to his adversary. The Burnt-wood plunged his knife
into his heart to the very hilt; and, laden with his spoils, returned to
his village, and to this day wears suspended from his ears his own and
his enemy's scalp.
The village presented the usual scene of confusion as long as the trade
lasted. Fighting, brawling, yelling, dancing, and all the concomitants
of intoxication, continued to the last drop of the liquor-keg, when the
reaction after such excitement was almost worse than the evil itself.
During this time all the work devolved upon the squaws, who, in tending
the horses, and in packing wood and water from a long distance, had
their time sufficiently occupied. As there was little or no grass in
the vicinity, the animals were supported entirely on the bark of the
cottonwood; and to procure this, the women were daily engaged in
felling huge trees, or climbing them fearlessly, chopping off the upper
limbs--springing like squirrels from branch to branch, which, in their
confined costume, appeared matter of considerable difficulty.
The most laughter-provoking scenes, however, were, when a number of
squaws sallied out to the grove with their long-nosed wolfish-looking
dogs harnessed to their _travées_ * or trabogans, on which loads of
cottonwood were piled. The dogs, knowing full well the duty required of
them, refuse to approach the coaxing squaws, and, at the same time,
are fearful of provoking their anger by escaping and running off. They,
therefore, squat on their haunches, with tongues hanging out of their
long mouths, the picture of indecision, removing a short distance as
the irate squaw approaches. When once harnessed to the travée, however,
which is simply a couple of lodge-poles lashed on either side of the
dog, with a couple of cross-bars near the ends to support the freight,
they follow quietly enough, urged by bevies of children who invariably
accompany the women. Once arrived at the scene of their labors, the
reluctance of the curs to draw near the piles of cottonwood is most
comical. They will lie down stubbornly at a little distance, whining
their uneasiness, or sometimes scamper off bodily, with their long poles
trailing after them, pursued by the yelling and half-frantic squaws.
* Travois. (Ed.)
When the travées are laden, the squaws, bent double under loads of wood
sufficient to break a porter's back, and calling to the dogs, which are
urged on by the buffalo-fed urchins in rear, lead the line of march. The
curs, taking advantage of the helpless state of their mistresses, turn a
deaf ear to their coaxings, lying down every few yards to rest, growling
and fighting with each other, in which encounters every cur joins the
_mêlée_, charging pell-mell into the yelping throng, upsetting the
squalling children, and making confusion worse confounded. Then, armed
with lodge-poles, the squaws, throwing down their loads, rush to the
rescue, dealing stalwart blows on the pugnacious curs, and finally
restoring something like order to the march.
"Tszoo--tszoo!" they cry, "wah, kashne, ceitcha--get on, you devilish
beasts--tszoo--tszoo!" and belaboring them without mercy, they start
them into a gallop, which, once commenced, is generally continued till
they reach their destination.
The Indian dogs are, however, invariably well treated by the squaws,
since they assist materially the everyday labors of these patient
overworked creatures, in hauling firewood to the lodge, and, on the
line of march, carrying many of the household goods and chattels, which
otherwise the squaw herself would have to carry on her back. Every lodge
possesses from half-a-dozen to a score,--some for draught and others
for eating--for dog-meat forms part and parcel of an Indian feast.
The former are stout wiry animals, half wolf half sheep-dog, and are
regularly trained to draught; the latter are of a smaller kind, more
inclined to fat, and embrace every variety of the genus cur. Many of the
southern tribes possess a breed of dogs entirely divested of hair, which
evidently have come from South America, and are highly esteemed for the
kettle. Their meat, in appearance and flavor, resembles young pork, but
far surpasses it in richness and delicacy.
The Sioux are very expert in making their lodges comfortable, taking
more pains in their construction than most Indians. They are all
of conical form: a framework of straight slender poles, resembling
hop-poles, and from twenty to twenty-five feet long, is first erected,
round which is stretched a sheeting of buffalo-robes, softly dressed,
and smoked to render them water-tight. The apex, through which the ends
of the poles protrude, is left open to allow the smoke to escape. A
small opening, sufficient to permit the entrance of a man, is made on
one side, over which is hung a door of buffalo-hide. A lodge of the
common size contains about twelve or fourteen skins, and contains
comfortably a family of twelve in number. The fire is made in the
center, immediately under the aperture in the roof, and a flap of the
upper skins is closed or extended at pleasure, serving as a cowl or
chimney-top to regulate the draught and permit the smoke to escape
freely. Round the fire, with their feet towards it, the inmates sleep on
skins and buf-falo-rugs, which are rolled up during the day, and stowed
at the back of the lodge.
In traveling, the lodge-poles are secured half on each side a horse, and
the skins placed on transversal bars near the ends, which trail along
the ground--two or three squaws or children mounted on the same horse,
or the smallest of the latter borne in the dog travées. A set of
lodge-poles will last from three to seven years, unless the village is
constantly on the move, when they are soon worn out in trailing over the
gravelly prairie. They are usually of ash, which grows on many of the
mountain creeks, and regular expeditions are undertaken when a supply is
required, either for their own lodges, or for trading with those tribes
who inhabit the prairies at a great distance from the locality where the
poles are procured.
There are also certain creeks where the Indians resort to lay in a store
of kinnik-kinnik (the inner bark of the red willow), * which they use
as a substitute for tobacco, and which has an aromatic and very pungent
flavor. It is prepared for smoking by being scraped in thin curly flakes
from the slender saplings, and crisped before the fire, after which it
is rubbed between the hands, into a form resembling leaf-tobacco, and
stored in skin bags for use. It has a highly narcotic effect on
those not habituated to its use, and produces a heaviness sometimes
approaching stupefaction, altogether different from the soothing effects
of tobacco.
* Red osier dogwood. (Ed.)
Every year, owing to the disappearance of the buffalo from their former
haunts, the Indians are compelled to encroach upon each other's
hunting-grounds, which is a fruitful cause of war between the different
tribes. It is a curious fact that the buffalo retire before the whites,
whilst the presence of Indians in their pastures appears in no degree to
disturb them. Wherever a few white hunters are congregated in a trading
post, or elsewhere, so sure is it that, if they remain in the same
locality, the buffalo will desert the vicinity, and seek pasture
elsewhere. In this, the Indians affirm, the wahkeitcha, or "bad
medicine," of the pale-faces is very apparent; and they ground upon it
their well-founded complaints of the encroachments made upon their
hunting-grounds by the white hunters.
In the winter, many of the tribes are reduced to the very verge of
starvation--the buffalo having passed from their country into that of
their enemies; when no other alternative is offered them but to
remain where they are and starve, or to follow the game into a hostile
region--a move entailing war and all its horrors.
Reckless, moreover, of the future, in order to prepare robes for
the traders, and to procure the pernicious fire-water, they wantonly
slaughter, every year, vast numbers of buffalo cows (the skins of which
sex only are dressed), and thus add to the evils in store for them. When
questioned on this subject, and reproached with such want of foresight,
they answer, that however quickly the buffalo disappears, the Red Man
"goes under" more quickly still; and that the Great Spirit has ordained
that both shall be "rubbed out" from the face of nature at one and the
same time,--"that arrows and bullets are not more fatal to the buffalo
than the small-pox and fire-water to them, and that before many winters'
snows have disappeared, the buffalo and the Red Man will only be
remembered by their bones, which will strew the plains."
"They look forward, however, to a future state, when, after a long
journey, they will reach the happy hunting-grounds, where buffalo will
once more blacken the prairies; where the pale-faces dare not come to
disturb them; where no winter snows cover the ground, and the buffalo
ar'e always plentiful and fat."
As soon as the streams opened, La Bonté, now reduced to two animals and
four traps, sallied forth again, this time seeking the dangerous country
of the Blackfeet, on the head-waters of the Yellow Stone and Upper
Missouri. He was accompanied by three others, a man named Wheeler,
and one Cross-Eagle, a Swede, who had been many years in the western
country. Reaching the forks of a small creek, on both of which appeared
plenty of beaver sign, La Bonté followed the left-hand one alone, whilst
the others trapped the right in company, the former leaving his squaw in
the company of a Sioux woman, who followed the fortunes of Cross-Eagle,
the party agreeing to rendezvous at the junction of the two forks, as
soon as they had trapped to their heads and again descended them. The
larger party were the first to reach the rendezvous, and camped on the
banks of the main stream to await the arrival of La Bonté.
The morning after their return, they had just risen from their blankets,
and were lazily stretching themselves before the fire, when a volley
of firearms rattled from the bank of the creek, and two of their number
fell dead to the ground, whilst at the same moment the deafening yells
of Indians broke upon the ears of the frightened squaws. Cross-Eagle
seized his rifle, and, though severely wounded, rushed to the cover of a
hollow tree which stood near, and crawling into it, defended himself the
whole day with the greatest obstinacy, killing five Indians outright,
and wounding several more. Unable to drive the gallant trapper from his
retreat, the savages took advantage of a favorable wind which suddenly
sprang up, and fired the long dry grass surrounding the tree. The rotten
log catching fire, at length compelled the hunter to leave his retreat.
Clubbing his rifle, he charged amongst the Indians, and fell at last,
pierced through and through with wounds, but not until two more of his
assailants had fallen by his hand.
The two squaws were carried off, and one was sold shortly afterwards to
some white men at the trading ports on the Platte; but La Bonté never
recovered the "Bending Reed," nor even heard of her existence from that
day. So once more was the mountaineer bereft of his better half; and
when he returned to the rendezvous, a troop of wolves were feasting
on the bodies of his late companions, and of the Indians killed in the
affray, of which he only heard the particulars a long time after from a
trapper, who had been present when one of the squaws was offered at the
trading-post for sale, and had heard her recount the miserable fate of
her husband and his companions on the forks of the creek, which, from
the fact of La Bonté being the leader of the party, has since borne his
name.
Undaunted by this misfortune, the trapper continued his solitary
hunt, passing through the midst of the Crow and Blackfeet country;
encountering many perils, often hunted by the Indians, but always
escaping. He had soon loaded both his animals with beaver, and then
thought of bending his steps to some of the trading rendezvous on the
other side of the mountains, where employés of the Great Northwest Fur
Company meet the trappers with the produce of their hunts, on Lewis's
fork of the Columbia, or one of its numerous affluents. His intention
was to pass the winter at some of the company's trading-posts in Oregon,
into which country he had never yet penetrated.