|THE trail to Oregon, followed by traders and emigrants, crosses the
Rocky Mountains at a point known as the South Pass, where a break in
the chain occurs of such moderate and gradual elevation as to permit the
passage of wagons with tolerable facility. The Sweetwater Valley runs
nearly to the point where the dividing ridge of the Pacific and Atlantic
waters throws off its streams to their respective oceans. At one end of
this valley, and situated on the right bank of the Sweetwater, a huge
isolated mass of granitic rock rises to the height of three hundred feet
abruptly from the plain. * On the smooth and scarped surface presented
by one of its sides, are rudely carved the names and initials of
traders, trappers, travelers, and emigrants, who have here recorded the
memorial of their sojourn in the remote wilderness of the Far West. The
face of the rock is covered with names familiar to the mountaineers as
those of the most renowned of their hardy brotherhood; while others,
again, occur, better known to the science and literature of the Old
World than to the unlearned trappers of the Rocky Mountains. The huge
mass is a well-known landmark to the Indians and mountaineers; and
travelers and emigrants hail it as the halfway beacon between the
frontiers of the United States and the still distant goal of their long
and perilous journey.
* Independence Rock. (Ed.)
It was a hot sultry day in July. Not a breath of air relieved the
intense and oppressive heat of the atmosphere, unusual here, where
pleasant summer breezes, and sometimes stronger gales, blow over the
elevated plains with the regularity of trade-winds. The sun, at its
meridian height, struck the dry sandy plain, and parched the drooping
buffalo-grass on its surface; and its rays, refracted and reverberating
from the heated ground, distorted every object seen through its lurid
medium. Straggling antelope, leisurely crossing the adjoining prairie,
appeared to be gracefully moving in mid-air; whilst a scattered band of
buffalo bulls loomed huge and indistinct in the vapory distance. In the
timbered valley of the river, deer and elk were standing motionless in
the water, under the shade of the overhanging cottonwoods, seeking
a respite from the persevering attacks of swarms of horse-flies and
mosquitoes; and now and then a heavy splash was heard, as they tossed
their antlered heads into the stream, to free them from the venomous
insects that buzzed incessantly about them. In the sandy prairie,
beetles of an enormous size were rolling in every direction huge balls
of earth, pushing them with their hind legs with comical perseverance;
chameleons darted about, assimilating the hue of their grotesque bodies
with the color of the sand: groups of prairie-dog houses were seen,
each with its inmate barking lustily on the roof; whilst under cover of
nearly every bush of sage or cactus a rattlesnake lay glittering in lazy
coil. Tantalizing the parched sight, the neighboring peaks of the lofty
Wind River Mountains glittered in a mantle of sparkling snow; whilst
Sweetwater Mountain, capped in cloud, looked gray and cool, in striking
contrast to the burned-up plains which lay basking at its foot.
Resting their backs against the rock (on which, we have said, are now
carved the names of many travelers), and defended from the powerful rays
of the sun by its precipitous sides, two white men quietly slept. They
were gaunt and lantern-jawed, and clothed in tattered buckskin. Each
held a rifle across his knees, but--strange sight-in this country--one
had its pan thrown open, which was rust-eaten and contained no priming;
the other's hammer was without a flint. Their faces were as if covered
with mahogany-colored parchment; their eyes were sunken; and as their
jaws fell listlessly on their breasts, their cheeks were hollow, with
the bones nearly protruding from the skin. One was in the prime of
manhood, with handsome features; the other, considerably past middle
age, was stark and stern. Months of dire privation had brought them
to this pass. The elder of the two was Killbuck, of mountain fame; the
other was hight La Bonté.
The former opened' his eyes, and saw the buffalo feeding on the plain.
"Ho, boy," he said, touching his companion, "thar's meat a-run-nin'."
La Bonté looked in the direction the other pointed, stood up, and
hitching round his pouch and powder-horn, drew the stopper from the
latter with his teeth, and placing the mouth in the palm of his left
hand, turned the horn up and shook it.
"Not a grain," he said--"not a grain, old hoss."
"Wagh!" exclaimed the other, "we'll have to eat afore long,"--and
rising, walked into the prairie. He had hardly stepped two paces, when,
passing close to a sage-bush, a rattlesnake whizzed a note of warning
with its tail. Killbuck grinned, and taking the wiping-stick from his
rifle-barrel, tapped the snake on the head, and taking it by the tail,
threw it to La Bonté, saying, "hyar's meat, anyhow." The old fellow
followed up his success by slaying half-a-dozen more, and brought
them in skewered through the head on his wiping-stick. A fire was soon
kindled, and the snakes roasting before it; when La Bonté, who sat
looking at buffalo which fed close to the rock, suddenly saw them raise
their heads, snuff the air, and scamper towards him. A few minutes
afterwards, a huge shapeless body loomed in the refracted air,
approaching the spot where the buffalo had been grazing. The hunters
looked at it and then at each other, and ejaculated "Wagh!" Presently a
long white mass showed more distinctly, followed by another, and before
each was a string of animals.
"Wagons, by hoss and beaver! Hurrah for Conestoga!" exclaimed the
trappers in a breath, as they now observed two white-tilted wagons,
drawn by several pairs of mules, approaching the very spot where they
sat. Several mounted men were riding about the wagons, and two on
horseback, in advance of all, were approaching the rock, when they
observed the smoke curling from the hunters' fire. They halted at sight
of this; and one of the two, drawing a long instrument from a case,
which Killbuck voted a rifle, directed it towards them for a moment, and
then lowering it, again moved forward.
As they drew near, the two poor trappers, although half-dead with
joy, still retained their seats with Indian gravity and immobility of
feature, turning now and then the crackling snakes which lay on the
embers of the fire. The two strangers approached. One, a man of some
fifty years of age, of middle height and stoutly built, was clad in a
white shooting-jacket, of cut unknown in mountain tailoring, and a
pair of trousers of the well-known material called shepherd's plaid; a
broad-brimmed Panama shaded his face, which was ruddy with health and
exercise; a belt round the waist supported a handsome bowie-knife, and a
double-barreled fowling-piece was _slung_ across his shoulder.
His companion was likewise dressed in a light shooting-jacket, of many
pockets and dandy cut, rode on an English saddle and in _boots_, and was
armed with a superb double rifle, glossy from the case, and bearing few
marks of use or service. He was a tall fine-looking fellow of thirty,
with light hair and complexion; a scrupulous beard and mustache; a
wide-awake hat, with a short pipe stuck in the band, not very black with
smoke; an elaborate powder-horn over his shoulder, with a Cairngorm in
the butt as large as a plate; a blue handkerchief tied round his throat
in a sailor's knot, and the collar of his shirt turned carefully over
it. He had, moreover, a tolerable idea of his very correct appearance,
and wore Woodstock gloves.
The trappers looked at them from head to foot, and the more they looked,
the less could they make them out.
"H----!" exclaimed La Bonté, emphatically.
"This beats grainin' bull-hide slick," broke from Killbuck as the
strangers reined up at the fire, the younger dismounting, and staring
with wonder at the weather-beaten trappers.
"Well, my men, how are you?" he rattled out. "Any game here? By Jove!"
he suddenly exclaimed, seizing his rifle, as at that moment a large
buzzard, the most unclean of birds, flew into the topmost branch of a
cottonwood, and sat, a tempting shot. "By Jove, there's a chance!" cried
the mighty hunter; and, bending low, started off to approach the unwary
bird in the most approved fashion of northern deer-stalkers. The buzzard
sat quietly, and now and then stretched its neck to gaze upon the
advancing sportsman, who on such occasions threw himself flat on the
ground, and remained, motionless, in dread of alarming the bird. It was
worth while to look at the countenance of old Killbuck, as he watched
the antics of the "bourgeois" hunter. He thought at first that the dandy
rifleman had really discovered game in the bottom, and was nothing loath
that there was a chance of his seeing meat; but when he understood the
object of such maneuvers, and saw the quarry the hunter was so carefully
approaching, his mouth grinned from ear to ear, and, turning to La
Bonté, he said, "Wagh! _he's_ some--_he_ is!"
Nothing doubting, however, the stranger approached the tree on which
the bird was sitting, and, getting well under it, raised his rifle and
fired. Down tumbled the bird; and the successful hunter, with a loud
shout, rushed frantically towards it, and bore it in triumph to the
camp, earning the most sovereign contempt from the two trappers by the
achievement.
The other stranger was a quieter character. He, too, smiled as he
witnessed the exultation of his younger companion (whose horse, by
the way, was scampering about the plain), and spoke kindly to the
mountaineers, whose appearance was clear evidence of the sufferings they
had endured. The snakes by this time were cooked, and the trappers gave
their new acquaintances the never-failing invitation to "sit and eat."
When the latter, however, understood what the viands were, their looks
expressed the horror and disgust they felt.
"Good God!" exclaimed the elder, "you surely cannot eat such disgusting
food?"
"This nigger doesn't savy what disgustin' is," gruffly answered
Killbuck; "but them as carries empty paunch three days an' more, is glad
to get snake meat, I'm thinkin'."
"What! you've no ammunition, then?"
"_Well_, we haven't."
"Wait till the wagons come up, and throw away that abominable stuff,
and you shall have something better, I promise," said the elder of the
strangers.
"Yes," continued the younger; "some hot preserved soup, hotch-potch, and
a glass of porter, will do you good."
The trappers looked at the speaker, who was talking Greek (to them).
They thought the bourgeois were making fun, and did not half like it, so
answered simply, "Wagh! h----'s full of hosh-posh and porter."
Two large wagons presently came up, escorted by some eight or ten stout
Missourians. Sublette was amongst the number, well known as a mountain
trader, and under whose guidance the present party, which formed a
pleasure expedition at the expense of a Scotch sportsman, was leisurely
making its way across the mountains to the Columbia. As several
mountaineers were in company, Killbuck and La Bonté recognized more than
one friend, and the former and Sublette were old campaneros. As soon as
the animals were unhitched, and camp formed on the banks of the creek,
a black cook set about preparing a meal. Our two trapping friends looked
on with astonishment as the sable functionary drew from the wagon the
different articles he required to furnish forth a feed. Hams, tongues,
tins of preserved meats, bottles of pickles, of porter, brandy, coffee,
sugar, flour, were tumbled promiscuously on the prairie; whilst pots and
pans, knives, forks, spoons, plates, &c. &c., displayed their unfamiliar
faces to the mountaineers. "Hosh-posh and porter" did not now appear
such Utopian articles as they had first imagined; but no one but those
who have lived for years on simple meat and water, can understand the
relish with which they accepted the invitation of the Cap'n (as they
called the Scotchman) to "take a horn of liquor." Killbuck and La Bonté
sat in the same position as when we first surprised them asleep under
the shadow of Independence Rock, regarding the profuse display of
comestibles with scarce-believing eyes, and childishly helpless from the
novelty of the scene. Each took the proffered half-pint cup, filled to
the brim with excellent brandy--(no teetotallers they!)--looked once
at the amber-colored surface, and, with the usual mountain pledge of
"here's luck!" tossed off the grateful liquor at a breath. This prepared
them in some measure for what was yet in store for them. The Scotchman
bestirred the cook in his work, and soon sundry steaming pots were
lifted from the fire, and the skillets emptied of their bread--the
contents of the former poured in large flat pans, while pannikins
were filled with smoking coffee. The two trappers needed no second
invitation, but, seizing each a panful of steaming stew, drew the
butcher-knives from their belts, and fell-to lustily--the hospitable
Scotchman plying them with more and more, and administering corrective
noggins of brandy the while; until at last they were fain to cry
"enough," wiped their knives on the grass, and placed them in their
sheaths--a sign that human nature could no more. How can pen describe
the luxury of the smoke that followed, to lips which had not kissed pipe
for many months, and how the fragrant honey-dew from Old Virginia was
relishingly puffed!
But the Scotchman's bounty did not stop here. He soon elicited from the
lips of the hunters the narrative of their losses and privations, and
learned that they now, without ammunition and scarcely clothed, were on
their way to Platte Fort, to hire themselves to the Indian traders in
order to earn another outfit, wherewith once more to betake themselves
to their perilous employment of trapping. What was their astonishment
to see their entertainer presently lay out upon the ground two piles of
goods, each consisting of a four-point Mackinaw, two tin canisters
of powder, with corresponding lead and flints, a pair of moccasins, a
shirt, and sufficient buckskin to make a pair of pantaloons; and how
much the more was the wonder increased when two excellent Indian horses
were presently lassoed from the cavallada, and with mountain saddle,
bridle, and lariats complete, together with the two piles of goods
described, presented to them "on the prairie" or "gift-free," by the
kind-hearted stranger, who would not even listen to thanks for the most
timely and invaluable present.
Once more equipped, our two hunters, filled with good brandy and
fat buffalo meat, again wended on their way; their late entertainers
continuing their pleasure-trip across the gap of the South Pass,
intending to visit the Great Salt Lake, or Timponogos, of the West. The
former were bound for the North Fork of the Platte, with the intention
of joining one of the numerous trapping parties which rendezvous at the
American Fur Company's post on that branch of the river. On a fork of
Sweetwater, however, not two days after the meeting with the Scotchman's
wagons, they encountered a band of a dozen mountaineers, mounted on fine
horses, and well armed and equipped, traveling along without the usual
accompaniment of a mulada of pack-animals, two or three mules alone
being packed with meat and spare ammunition. The band was proceeding
at a smart rate, the horses moving with the gait peculiar to American
animals, known as pacing or racking, in Indian file--each of the
mountaineers with a long heavy rifle resting across the horn of his
saddle. Amongst them our two friends recognized Markhead, who had been
of the party dispersed months before by the Blackfeet on one of the
head-streams of the Yellow Stone, which event had been the origin of the
dire sufferings of Killbuck and La Bonté. Markhead, after running the
gauntlet of numerous Indians, through the midst of whose country he
passed with his usual temerity and utter disregard to danger, suffering
hunger, thirst, and cold--those everyday experiences of mountain
life--riddled with balls, but with three scalps hanging from his belt,
made his way to a rendezvous on Bear River, whence he struck out for the
Platte in early spring, in time to join the band he now accompanied, who
were on a horse-stealing expedition to the Missions of Upper California.
Little persuasion did either Killbuck or La Bonté require to join the
sturdy freebooters. In five minutes they had gone "files-about," and
at sundown were camping on the well-timbered bottom of Little Sandy,
feasting once more on delicate hump-rib and tenderloin.
For California, ho!
Fourteen good rifles in the hands of fourteen mountainmen stout
and true, on fourteen strong horses, of true Indian blood and
training--fourteen cool heads, with fourteen pairs of keen eyes in them,
each head crafty as an Indian's, directing a right arm strong as steel,
and a heart as brave as grizzly bear's. Before them a thousand miles of
dreary desert or wilderness, overrun by hostile savages, thirsting for
the white man's blood; famine and drought, the arrows of wily hordes
of Indians--and, these dangers past, the invasion of the civilized
settlements of whites, the least numerous of which contained ten times
their number of armed and bitter enemies--the sudden swoop upon their
countless herds of mules and horses, the fierce attack and bloody
slaughter;--such were the consequences of the expedition these bold
mountaineers were now engaged in. Fourteen lives of any fourteen enemies
who would be rash enough to stay them, were, any day you will, carried
in the rifle-barrels of these stout fellows; who, in all the proud
consciousness of their physical qualities, neither thought, nor cared to
think, of future perils; and rode merrily on their way, rejoicing in the
dangers they must necessarily meet. Never a more daring band crossed
the mountains; a more than ordinary want of caution characterized their
march, and dangers were recklessly and needlessly invited, which even
the older and more cold-blooded mountaineers seemed not to care to
avoid. They had, each and all, many a debt to pay the marauding Indians.
Grudges for many privations, for wounds and loss of comrades, rankled in
their breasts; and not one but had suffered more or less in property and
person at the hands of the savages, within a few short months. Threats
of vengeance on every Redskin they met were loud and deep; and the wild
war-songs round their nightly camp-fires, and grotesque scalp-dances,
borrowed from the Indians, proved to the initiated that they were, one
and all, "half-froze for hair." Soon after Killbuck and La Bonté joined
them, they one day suddenly surprised a band of twenty Sioux, scattered
on a small prairie, and butchering some buffalo they had just killed.
Before they could escape, the whites were upon them with loud shouts,
and in three minutes the scalps of eleven were dangling from their
saddle-horns.
Struggling up mountains, slipping down precipices, dashing over prairies
which resounded with their Indian songs, charging the Indians wherever
they met them, and without regard to their numbers; frightening with
their lusty war-whoops the miserable Diggers, who were not unfrequently
surprised while gathering roots in the mountain plains, and who,
scrambling up the rocks and concealing themselves, like sage rabbits, in
holes and corners, peered, chattering with fear, as the wild and noisy
troop rode by: scarce drawing rein, they passed rapidly the heads of
Green and Grand Rivers, through a country abounding in game and in
excellent pasture; encountering in the upland valleys, through which
meandered the well-timbered creeks on which they made their daily camps,
many a band of Yutas, through whom they dashed at random, caring not
whether they were friends or foes. Passing many other heads of
streams, they struck at last the edge of the desert, lying along the
south-eastern base of the Great Salt Lake, and which extends in almost
unbroken sterility to the foot of the range of the Sierra Nevada--a
mountain-chain, capped with perpetual snow, that bounds the northern
extremity of a singular tract of country, walled by mountains and
utterly desert, whose salt lagoons and lakes, although fed by many
streams, find no outlet to the ocean, but are absorbed in the spongy
soil or thirsty sand which characterize the different portions of this
deserted tract. In the Grand Basin, it is reported, neither human
nor animal life can be supported. No oasis cheers the wanderer in
the unbroken solitude of the vast wilderness. More than once the lone
trapper has penetrated with hardy enterprise into the salt plains of
the basin, but no signs of beaver or fur-bearing animal rewarded the
attempt. The ground is scantily covered with coarse unwholesome grass
that mules and horses refuse to eat; and the water of the springs,
impregnated with the impurities of the soil through which it percolates,
affords but nauseating draughts to the thirsty traveler.
In passing from the more fertile uplands to the lower plains, as they
descended the streams, the timber on their banks became scarcer, and the
groves more scattered. The rich buffalo or _grama_ grass was exchanged
for a coarser species, on which the hard-worked animals soon grew poor
and weak. The thickets of plum and cherry, of box-elder and quaking-ash,
which had hitherto fringed the creeks, and where the deer and bear loved
to resort--the former to browse on the leaves and tender shoots, the
latter to devour the fruit--now entirely disappeared, and the only
shrub seen was the eternal sage-bush, which flourishes everywhere in the
western regions in uncongenial soils where other vegetation refuses to
grow. The visible change in the scenery had also a sensible effect on
the spirits of the mountaineers. They traveled on in silence through the
deserted plains; the _hi-hi-hiiya_ of their Indian chants was no longer
heard enlivening the line of march. More than once a Digger of the
Piyutah tribe took himself and hair in safety from their path, and
almost unnoticed; but as they advanced they became more cautious in
their movements, and testified, by the vigilant watch they kept, that
they anticipated hostile attacks even in these arid wastes. They had
passed without molestation through the country infested by the bolder
Indians. The mountain Yutas, not relishing the appearance of the
hunters, had left them unmolested; but they were now entering a country
inhabited by the most degraded and abject of the western tribes; who,
nevertheless, ever suffering from the extremities of hunger, have their
brutish wits sharpened by the necessity of procuring food, and rarely
fail to levy a contribution of rations, of horse or mule flesh, on the
passenger in their inhospitable country. The brutish cunning and animal
instinct of these wretches is such, that, although arrant cowards, their
attacks are more feared than those of bolder Indians. These
people--called the Yamparicas or Root Diggers--are, nevertheless, the
degenerate descendants of those tribes which once overran that portion
of the continent of North America now comprehended within the boundaries
of Mexico, and who have left such startling evidences in their track of
a comparatively superior state of civilization. They now form an outcast
tribe of the great nation of the Apache, which extends under various
names from the Great Salt Lake along the table-lands on each side of the
Sierra Madre to the Tropic of Cancer, where they merge into what are
called the Mexican Indians. The whole of this nation is characterized by
most abject cowardice; and they even refuse to meet the helpless
Mexicans in open fight--unlike the Yuta or Comanche, who carry bold and
open warfare into the territories of their civilized enemy, and never
shrink from hand-to-hand encounter. The Apaches and the degenerate
Diggers pursue a cowardly warfare, hiding in ambush, and shooting the
passer-by with arrows; or, dashing upon him at night when steeped in
sleep, they bury their arrow to the feather in his heaving breast. As
the Mexicans say, "_Sin ventaja, no salen;_" they never attack without
odds. But they are not the less dangerous enemies on this account; and
by the small bands of trappers who visit their country they are the more
dreaded by reason of this cowardly and wolfish system of warfare.
To provide against surprise, therefore, as the hunters rode along,
flankers were extended _en guerilla_ on each side, mounting the high
points to reconnoiter the country, and keeping a sharp look-out
for Indian sign. At night the animals were securely hobbled, and
a horse-guard posted round them--a service of great danger, as the
stealthy cat-like Diggers are often known to steal up silently, under
cover of the darkness, towards the sentinel, shoot him with their
arrows, and, approaching the animals, cut the hobbles and drive them
away unseen.
One night they encamped on a creek where was but little of the coarsest
pasture, and that little scattered here and there, so that they were
compelled to allow their animals to roam farther than usual from camp in
search of food. Four of the hunters, however, accompanied them to guard
against surprise; whilst but half of those in camp lay down to sleep,
the others, with rifles in their hands, remaining prepared for any
emergency. This day they had killed one of their two pack-mules for
food, game not having been met with for several days; but the animal was
so poor that it scarcely afforded more than one tolerable meal to the
whole party.
A short time before the dawn of day an alarm was given; the animals were
heard to snort violently; a loud shout was heard, followed by the sharp
crack of a rifle, and the tramp of galloping horses plainly showed that
a stampede had been affected. The whites instantly sprang to their arms,
and rushed in the direction of the sounds. The body of the cavallada,
however, had luckily turned, and, being headed by the mountaineers, were
surrounded and secured, with the loss of only three, which had probably
been mounted by the Indians.
Day breaking soon after, one of their band was discovered to be missing;
and it was then found that a man who had been standing horse-guard at
the time of the attack, had not come into camp with his companions.
At that moment a thin spiral column of smoke was seen to rise from
the banks of the creek, telling but too surely the fate of the missing
mountaineer. It was the signal of the Indians to their people that a
_coup_ had been struck, and that an enemy's scalp remained in their
triumphant hands.
"H----!" exclaimed the trappers in a breath; and soon imprecations and
threats of revenge, loud and deep, were showered upon the heads of the
treacherous Indians. Some of the party rushed to the spot where the
guard had stood, and there lay the body of their comrade, pierced with
lance and arrow, the scalp gone, and the body otherwise mutilated in
a barbarous manner. Five were quickly in the saddle, mounted upon the
strongest horses, and flying along the track of the Indians, who had
made off towards the mountains with their prize and booty. We will not
follow them in their work of bloody vengeance, save by saying that they
followed the savages to their village, into which they charged headlong,
recovered their stolen horses, and returned to camp at sundown with
thirteen scalps dangling from their rifles, in payment for the loss of
their unfortunate companion. *
* In Frémont's expedition to California, on a somewhat
similar occasion, two mountaineers--one the celebrated Kit
Carson, the other a St. Louis Frenchman named Godey, and
both old trappers--performed a feat surpassing the one
described above, inasmuch as they were but two. They charged
into an Indian village to rescue some stolen horses, and
avenge the slaughter of two New Mexicans who had been
butchered by the Indians; both which objects they effected,
returning to camp with the lost animals and a couple of
propitiatory scalps.
In their further advance, hunger and thirst were their daily companions:
they were compelled to kill several of their animals for food, but were
fortunate enough to replace them by a stroke of good-luck in meeting
a party of Indians returning from an excursion against one of the
Californian settlements with a tolerably large band of horses. Our
hunters met this band one fine morning, and dashed into the midst at
once; half-a-dozen Indians bit the dust, and twenty horses were turned
over from red to white masters in as many seconds, which remounted those
whose animals had been eaten, and enabled the others to exchange their
worn-out steeds for fresh ones. This fortunate event was considered a
_coup_, and the event was celebrated by the slaughter of a fat young
horse, which furnished an excellent supper that night--a memorable event
in these starveling regions.
They were now devouring their horses and mules at the rate of one every
alternate day; for so poor were the animals that one scarcely furnished
an ample meal for the thirteen hungry hunters. They were once more
reduced to the animals they rode on; and after a fast of twenty-four
hours' duration, were debating on the propriety of drawing lots as
to whose Rosinante should fill the kettle, when some Indians suddenly
appeared making signs of peace upon the bluff, and indicating a
disposition to enter the camp for the purpose of trading. Being invited
to approach, they offered to trade a few dressed elk-skins; but being
asked for meat, they said that their village was a long way off, and
they had nothing with them but a small portion of some game they had
lately killed. When requested to produce this they hesitated; but the
trappers looking hungry and angry at the same moment, an old Indian drew
from under his blanket several flaps of portable dried meat, which he
declared was bear's. It was but a small ration amongst so many; but,
being divided, was quickly laid upon the fire to broil. The meat was
stringy, and of whitish color, altogether unlike any flesh the trappers
had before eaten. Killbuck was the first to discover this. He had been
quietly masticating the last mouthful of his portion, the stringiness of
which required more than usual dental exertion, when the novelty of the
flavor struck him as something singular. Suddenly his jaws ceased their
work, he thought a moment, took the morsel from his mouth, looked at it
intently, and dashed it into the fire.
"Man-meat, by G----!" he cried out; and at the words every jaw stopped
work: the trappers looked at the meat and each other.
"I'm dog-gone if it ain't!" cried old Walker, looking at his piece, "and
white meat at that, wagh!" (and report said it was not the first time
he had tasted such viands;) and the conviction seizing each mind, every
mouthful was quickly spat into the fire, and the ire of the deceived
whites was instantly turned upon the luckless providers of the feast.
They saw the storm that was brewing, and without more ado turned tail
from the camp, and scuttled up the bluffs, where, turning round, they
fired a volley of arrows at the tricked mountaineers, and instantly
disappeared.
However, the desert and its nomad pilferers were at length passed; the
sandy plains became grass-covered prairies; the monstrous cottonwood on
the creeks was replaced by oak and ash; the surface of the country grew
more undulating, and less broken up into canons and ravines; elk and
deer leaped in the bottoms, and bands of antelope dotted the plains,
with occasional troops of wild horses, too wary to allow the approach
of man. On the banks of a picturesque stream called the San Joaquim the
party halted a few days to recruit themselves and animals, feasting the
while on the fattest of venison and other game. They then struck to the
south-east for two days, until they reached a branch of the Las Animas,
a clear stream running through a pretty valley, well timbered and
abounding in game. Here, as they wound along the river-banks, a horseman
suddenly appeared upon the bluff above them, galloping at a furious rate
along the edge. His dress approached in some degree to civilized attire.
A broad-brimmed sombrero surmounted his swarthy face; a colored blanket,
through a slit in which his head was thrust, floated in the air from
his shoulders; leathern leggings incased his lower limbs; and huge spurs
jingled on his heels. He rode in a high-peaked Mexican saddle, his feet
thrust in ponderous stirrups, and in his hand swung a coil of ready
lasso, his only offensive arm. One of the trappers knew a little
Spanish, and instantly hailed him.
"_Compadre,_" he shouted, "_por onde va?_" The Californian reined in
suddenly, throwing the horse he rode on its very haunches, and, darting
down the bluff, galloped unhesitatingly into the midst of the hunters.
"_Americanos!_" he exclaimed, glancing at them; and continued, smiling
--"_Y caballos quieren, por eso vienen tan lejitos. Jesus, que mala
gente!_"--"It's horses you want, and for this you come all this way. Ah,
what rogues you are!"
He was an Indian, employed at the Mission of San Fernando, distant three
days' journey from their present position, and was now searching for a
band of horses and mules which had strayed. San Fernando, it appeared,
had once before been visited by a party of mountain freebooters, and the
Indian therefore divined the object of the present one. He was, he told
them, "_un Indio, pero mansito_"--an Indian, but a tame one; * "_de
mas, Christiano_"--a Christian, moreover (exhibiting a small cross
which hung round his neck). There were many people about the Mission,
he said, who knew how to fight, and had plenty of arms; and there were
enough to "eat up," the "_Americanos, san frijoles,_"without beans, as
he facetiously observed. For his part, however, he was very friendly to
the _Americanos_; he had once met a man of that nation who was a good
sort of fellow, and who had made him a present of tobacco, of which he
was particularly fond. Finding this hint did not take, he said that
the horses and mules belonging to the Mission were innumerable--"like
that," he added, sweeping his hand to all points of the compass over the
plain, to intimate that they would cover that extent; and he could point
out a large herd grazing nearer at hand than the Mission, and guarded
but by three _vaqueros_. Regaled with venison, and with a smoke of his
coveted tobacco, he rode off, and made his way to the Mission without
delay, conveying the startling intelligence that a thousand Americans
were upon them.
* The Mexicans call the Indians living near the Missions and
engaged in agriculture, mansos, or mansitos, "tame."
The next morning the thirteen doughty mountaineers quietly resumed their
journey, moving leisurely along towards the object of their expedition.
It will not be out of place here to digress a little, in order to
describe the singular features of the establishments formed in those
remote regions by the Catholic Church, as _nuclei_ round which to
concentrate the wandering tribes that inhabit the country, with a view
to give them the benefit of civilized example, and to wean them from
their restless nomadic habits.
The establishment of Missions in Upper California is coeval with the
first settlement of Southern Mexico. No sooner had Spanish rule taken a
firm foothold in the Aztec empire, than the avowed primary object of the
military expedition began to be carried into effect. "To save the souls"
of the savage and barbarous subjects of their most Catholic majesties
was ever inculcated upon the governors of the conquered country as the
grand object to be sought after, as soon as tranquillity was partially
restored by the submission of the Mexicans; and the Cross, the sacred
emblem of the Catholic faith, was to be upraised in the remotest corners
of the country, and the natives instructed and compelled to worship it,
in lieu of the grotesque images of their own idolatrous religion.
To carry into effect these orthodox instructions, troops of pious
priests, of friars and monks of every order, and even of saintly nuns,
followed in the wake of the victorious armies of Cortez; and girding up
their loins, with zealous fervor and enthusiasm, and with an enterprise
and hardihood worthy of buccaneers, they pushed their adventurous way
far into the bowels of the land, preaching devoutly and with commendable
perseverance to savages who did not understand a syllable of what they
so eloquently discoursed; and returning, after the lapse of many months
passed in this first attempt, with glowing accounts of the "_muy
buen indole_" the very ductile disposition of the savages, and of the
thousands they had converted to "_la santa fé catolica_."
Ferdinand and Isabel, of glorious memory, at once beat up for
volunteers. Crowds of Franciscan monks, greasy Capuchinos, and nuns of
orthodox odor, joined the band; and saints even of the feminine gender,
long since canonized and up aloft amongst the goodly muster of saints
and martyrs, put foot once more on _terra firma_, and, rosary in hand,
crossed the seas to participate in the good work. As proof of this
latter fact, one Venabides, a Franciscan, whose veracity is beyond
impeachment, declared that, while preaching in the regions now known
as New Mexico, one million Indians from the "rumbo" known as Cibolo, a
mighty nation, approached his temporary pulpit on the Rio Grande,
and requested in a body the favor of being baptized. Struck with the
singularity of this request from Indians with whom he had as yet held no
communication, and with conscientious scruple as to whether he would
be justified in performing such ceremony without their having received
previous instruction, he hesitated a few moments before making an
answer. At this juncture the Indians espied a medallion which hung
around his neck, bearing the effigy of a certain saint of extraordinary
virtue. At sight of this they fell on their knees before it; and it was
some time before they found words (in what language does not appear) to
explain to the holy father that the original of that effigy, which hung
pendant from his neck, had been long amongst them instructing them in
the elements of the Christian religion, and had only lately disappeared;
informing them that certain reverend men would shortly appear in the
land, who would finish the good work she had devoutly commenced, and
clench the business by baptizing the one million miserable sinners who
now knelt before El Padre Venabides.
"_Valgame Dios!_" reverently exclaimed that worthy man, "_qui mïlagro
es este!_" [what a miracle is this I hear!] and casting up his eyes,
and speaking slowly, as if he weighed every word, and taxing his
memory of the historical calendar of saints, continued,--"_Se
muriô--aquella--santissima--muger--en el ano 175--es decir--ya
hacen--mil--quatro--cientos--anos_" [That most holy woman died in the
year 175; that is to say, one thousand four hundred years ago.]
"Oh, what a strange thing is this!" the padre continues devoutly. "After
so many ages spent in heaven in company of the angels, of most holy men,
and of virgins the most pure--and, perhaps, also in the company of my
worthy and esteemed friend and patron, Don Vincente Car-vajal y Calvo,
who died a few years ago in San Lucar Xeres (bequeathing me certain
arrobas of dry wine, of a class I greatly esteem--for which act he
deserved to be canonized, and, I have no doubt, is), the said Don
Vincente Carvajal y Calvo being, moreover, a man of the purest and
holiest thoughts (_Dios mio!_ what a puchero that man always had on his
table!)--this holy woman comes here, to these wild and remote regions;
this holy woman (who died fifteen hundred years ago), abandoning the
company of angels, of holy men, and sanctified women and virgins, and
also of Don Vincente Carvajal y Calvo (that worthy man!)--comes here, I
say, where there are neither pucheros, nor garbanzos, nor dry wine,
nor sweet wine, neither of Xeres, nor of Val de Penas, nor of Peralta;
where" (sobbed the padre, and bellowed the last word) "there is--
nothing either to eat or to drink. _Valgame Purissima Maria!_ And
what is the name of this holy woman? the world will ask," continues
Ven-abides. "Santa Clara of Carmona is her name, one well known in my
native country, who leaves heaven and all its joys, wends her way to
the distant wilds of New Spain, and spends years in inducting the savage
people to the holy faith. Truly a pious work, and pleasing to God!" *
* From a manuscript obtained in Santa Fé of New Mexico,
describing the labors of the missionaries Fray Augustin
Ruiz, Venabides, and Marcos, in the year 1585.
Thus spoke Venabides the Franciscan, and no doubt he believed what he
said; and many others in Old Spain were fools enough to believe it too,
for the shaven heads flocked over in greater numbers, and the cry was
ever, "still they come."
Along the whole extent of the table-lands, not an Indian tribe but was
speedily visited by the preaching friars and monks; and in less than a
century after the conquest of Mexico by the Spaniards, these hardy and
enthusiastic frayles had pushed their way into the inhospitable regions
of New Mexico, nearly two thousand miles distant from the valley
of Anahuac. How they succeeded in surmounting the natural obstacles
presented by the wild and barren deserts they traversed--how they
escaped the infinite peril they encountered at every step at the hands
of the savage inhabitants of the country, with whose language they were
totally unacquainted--is sufficient puzzle to those who, in the present
day, have attempted a journey in the same regions.
However, it is impossible not to admire the hardihood of these holy
pioneers of civilization, who, totally unfitted by their former mode of
life for undergoing such hardships as they must have anticipated, threw
themselves into the wilderness with fearless and stubborn zeal.
For the most part, however, they found the Indians exceedingly
hospitable and well disposed; and it was not until some time
after--when, receiving from the missionary monks glowing, and not always
very truthful, accounts of the riches of the country in which they had
located themselves, the governors of Mexico dispatched armed expeditions
under adventurous desperadoes to take and retain possession of the said
country, with orders to compel the submission of the native tribes, and
enforce their obedience to the authority of the whites--that the simple
and confiding Indians began to see the folly they had committed in
permitting the residence amongst them of these superior beings, whom
they had first looked upon as more than mortal; but who, when strong
enough to do so, were not long in throwing off the mask, and proving to
the simple savages that they were much "more human than divine."
Thus, in the province of New Mexico, Fray Augustin Ruiz, with his
co-preachers, Marcos and Venabides, were kindly received by the native
inhabitants, and we have seen how one million (?) Indians came from
the "rumbo" of the Cibolo, ready and willing to receive the baptismal
sacrament. This Cibolo, or Sivulo, as it is written in some old MSS.,
is, by the way, mysteriously alluded to by the monkish historians who
have written on this region, as being a kingdom inhabited by a very
superior class of Indians to any met with between Anahuac and the vale
of Taos--in the enjoyment of a high state of civilization, inhabiting a
well-built city, the houses of which were three storeys high, and
having attained considerable perfection in the domestic arts. This,
notwithstanding the authority of Don Francisco Vasquez Coronado, who
visited Cibolo, and of Solis and Venegas, who have guaranteed the
assertion, must be received _cum grano salis_; but, at all events, the
civilization of the mysterious Cibolo may be compared to that of the
Aztec empire under Montezuma, at the time of the Spanish Conquest, both
being egregiously exaggerated by the historians of the day. Cibolo was
situated on a river called Tegue. At this day, neither name is known
to the inhabitants of New Mexico. If pate-shaven Venabides had held
his tongue, New Mexico might now be in the peaceful possession of the
Catholic Missions, and the property of the Church of Mexico pretty
considerably enhanced by the valuable _placeres_, or gold-washings,
which abound in that province. Full, however, of the wonderful miracle
of Santa Clara of Carmona, which had been brought to light through the
agency of the medallion at the end of his rosario, Fray Venabides must
needs return to Spain, and humbug poor old Fernando, and even the more
sensible Isabel, with wonderful accounts of the riches of the country he
had been instrumental in exploring, and of the excellent disposition
of the natives to receive the Word of God. Don Juan Onate was therefore
quickly dispatched to take possession; and in his train followed twelve
Castilian families of _sangre azul_, to colonize the newly-acquired
territory. The names of these still remain, disgraced by the degenerate
wretches who now bear them, but in whom scarce a drop of blood remains
which ever filtered from the veins of the paladins of Old Castile.
Then commenced the troublous times. The Missions were upheld by dint of
steel alone; and frequently the Indians rose, and often massacred their
white persecutors. The colonists were more than once driven bodily from
New Mexico, and were only reinstated by the aid of large bodies of armed
men.
In California, however, they managed these things better. The wily
monks took care to keep all interlopers from the country, established
themselves in snug quarters, instructed the Indians in agriculture;
and soon gained such an ascendency over them, that no difficulty was
experienced in keeping them under proper and wholesome restraint. Strong
and commodious Missions were built and fortified, well stored with arms
and ammunition, and containing sufficient defenders to defy attack.
Luxuriant gardens and thriving vineyards soon surrounded these isolated
stations: the plains waved with golden corn; whilst domestic cattle,
thriving on the rich pasture, and roaming far and near, multiplied and
increased a hundredfold.
Nothing can be more beautiful than the appearance of one of these
Missions, to the traveler who has lately passed the arid and barren
wilderness of the North-West. The _adobe_ walls of the convent-looking
building, surmounted by cross and belfry, are generally hidden in a
mass of luxuriant vegetation. Fig-trees, bananas, cherry, and apple,
leaf-spreading platanos, and groves of olives, form umbrageous vistas,
under which the sleek monks delight to wander; gardens, cultivated
by their own hands, testify to the horticultural skill of the worthy
padres; whilst vineyards yield their grateful produce to gladden the
hearts of the holy exiles in these western solitudes. Vast herds of
cattle roam half-wild on the plains, and bands of mules and horses,
whose fame has even reached the distant table-lands of the Rocky
Mountains, and excited the covetousness of the hunters--and thousands of
which, from the day they are foaled to that of their death, never feel a
saddle on their backs--cover the country. Indians (Mansitos) idle round
the skirts of these vast herds (whose very numbers keep them together),
living, at their own choice, upon the flesh of mule, or ox, or horse.