|THE Mission of San Fernando is situated on a small river called Las
Animas, a branch of the Los Martires. The convent is built at the neck
of a large plain, at the point of influx of the stream from the broken
spurs of the sierra. The savanna is covered with luxuriant grass, kept
down, however, by the countless herds of cattle which pasture on it. The
banks of the creek are covered with a lofty growth of oak and poplar,
which, near the Mission, have been considerably thinned for the purpose
of affording fuel and building materials for the increasing settlement.
The convent stands in the midst of a grove of fruit-trees, its rude
tower and cross peeping above them, and contrasting picturesquely
with the wildness of the surrounding scenery. Gardens and orchards lie
immediately in front of the building, and a vineyard stretches away to
the upland ridge of the valley. The huts of the Indians are scattered
here and there, built of stone and adobe, sometimes thatched with flags
and boughs, but comfortable enough. The convent itself is a substantial
building, of the style of architecture characterizing monastic edifices
in most parts of the world. Loopholes peer from its plastered walls, and
on a flat portion of the roof a comically-mounted gingall or wall-piece,
carrying a two-pound ball, threatens the assailant in time of war. At
one end of the oblong building, a rough irregular arch of sun-burned
bricks is surmounted by a rude cross, under which hangs a small but
deep-toned bell--the wonder of the Indian peones, and highly venerated
by the frayles themselves, who received it as a present from a certain
venerable archbishop of Old Spain, and who, whilst guarding it with
reverential awe, tell wondrous tales of its adventures on the road to
its present abiding-place.
Of late years the number of the canonical inmates of the convent has
been much reduced--there being but four priests now to do the duties of
the eleven who formerly inhabited it: Fray Augustin, a capuchin of due
capacity of paunch, being at the head of the holy quartette. Augustin
is the conventual name of the reverend father, who fails not to impress
upon such casual visitants to that ultima Thule as he deems likely to
appreciate the information, that, but for his humility, he might add the
sonorous appellations of Ignacio Sabanal-Morales-y Fuentes--his family
being of the best blood of Old Castile, and known there since the days
of Ruy Gomez--el--Campéador--possessing, moreover, half the "vega" of
the Ebro, &c., where, had fate been propitious, he would now have been
the sleek superior of a rich capuchin convent, instead of vegetating, a
leather-clad frayle, in the wilds of California Alta.
Nevertheless, his lot is no bad one. With plenty of the best and fattest
meat to eat, whether of beef or venison, of bear or mountain mutton;
with good wine and brandy of home make, and plenty of it; fruit of all
climes in great abundance; wheaten or com bread to suit his palate; a
tractable flock of natives to guide, and assisted in the task by three
brother shepherds; far from the strife of politics or party--secure
from hostile attack (not quite, by the by), and eating, drinking, and
sleeping away his time, one would think that Fray Augustin Ignacio
Sabanal-Morales-y Fuentes had little to trouble him, and had no cause
to regret even the vega of Castilian Ebro, held by his family since the
days of el Campéador.
One evening Fray Augustin sat upon an adobe bench, under the fig-tree
shadowing the porch of the Mission. He was dressed in a goat-skin
jerkin, softly and beautifully dressed, and descending to his hips,
under which his only covering--tell it not in Gath!--was a long linen
shirt, reaching to his knees, and lately procured from Puebla de los
Angeles, as a sacerdotal garment. Boots, stockings, or unmentionables he
had none. A cigarito, of tobacco rolled in com shuck, was occasionally
placed between his lips; whereupon huge clouds of smoke rushed in
columns from his mouth and nostrils. His face was of a golden yellow
color, relieved by arched and very black eyebrows; his shaven chin was
of most respectable duplicity--his corporation of orthodox dimensions.
Several Indians and half-bred Mexican women were pounding Indian corn
on metates near at hand; whilst sundry beef-fed urchins of whitey-brown
complexion sported before the door, exhibiting, as they passed Fray
Augustin, a curious resemblance to the strongly-marked features of that
worthy padre. They were probably his nieces and nephews--a class of
relations often possessed in numbers by priests and monks.
The three remaining brothers were absent from the Mission: Fray
Bernardo, hunting elk in the sierra; Fray José, gallivanting at Puebla
de los Angeles, ten days' journey distant; Fray Cris-toval, lassoing
colts upon the plain. Augustin, thus left to his own resources, had just
eaten his vespertine frijolitos and chile Colorado, and was enjoying
a post-coenal smoke of fragrant pouche under the shadow of his own
fig-tree.
Whilst thus employed, an Indian dressed in Mexican attire approached
him hat in hand, and, making a reverential bow, asked his directions
concerning domestic business of the Mission.
"Hola! friend José," cried Fray Augustin, in a thick guttural voice,
"_pensaba yo_--I was thinking that it was very nearly this time three
years ago when those _malditos Americanos_ came by here and ran off with
so many of our cavallada."
"True, reverend father," answered the administrator, "just three years
ago, all but fifteen days: I remember it well. _Maldit os sean_--curse
them!"
"How many did we kill, José?"
"_Quizas môôchos_--a great many, I daresay. But they did not fight
fairly--charged right upon us, and gave us no time to do anything. They
don't know how to fight, these Mericanos; come right at you, before you
can swing a lasso, hallooing like _Indios bravos_."
"But, José, how many did they leave dead on the field?"
"Not one."
"And we?"
"_Valgame Dios!_ thirteen dead, and many more wounded."
"That's it! Now if these savages come again (and the Chemeguaba, who
came in yesterday, says he saw a large trail), we must fight _adentro_
--within--outside is no go; for, as you very properly say, José, these
Americans don't know how to fight, and kill us before--before we can
kill them! _Vayal_."
At this moment there issued from the door of the Mission Don Antonio
Velez Trueba, a Gachu-pin--that is, a native of Old Spain--a wizened
old hidalgo refugee, who had left the mother country on account of his
political opinions, which were stanchly Carlist, and had found his way
--how, he himself scarcely knew--from Mexico to San Francisco in
Upper California, where, having a most perfect contempt for everything
Mexican, and hearing that in the Mission of San Fernando, far away, were
a couple of Spanish padres of _sangre regular_, he had started into the
wilderness to ferret them out; and having escaped all dangers on the
route (which, however, were hardly dangers to the Don, who could not
realize the idea of scalp-taking savages), had arrived with a whole skin
at the Mission. There he was received with open arms by his countryman
Fray Augustin, who made him welcome to all the place afforded, and there
he harmlessly smoked away his time; his heart far away on the banks of
the Genii and in the grape-bearing vegas of his beloved Andalusia, his
withered cuerpo in the sierras of Upper California. Don Antonio was the
walking essence of a Spaniard of the _ancien régime_. His family dated
from the Flood, and with the exception of sundry refreshing jets of
Moorish blood, injected into the Truebas during the Moorish epoch,
no strange shoot was ever engrafted on their genealogical tree. The
marriages of the family were ever confined to the family itself--never
looking to fresh blood in a station immediately below it, which was not
hidal-gueno; nor above, since anything higher in rank than the Trueba y
Trueba family, _no habia_, there was not.
Thus, in the male and female scions of the house, were plainly visible
the ill effects of breeding "in and in." The male Truebas were sadly
degenerate Dons, in body as in mind--compared to their ancestors of
Boabdil's day; and the senoritas of the name were all eyes, and eyes
alone, and hardly of such stamp as would have tempted that amorous
monarch to bestow a kingdom for a kiss, as ancient ballads tell.
"Duena de la negra toca,
Por un beso de tu boca,
Diera un reyno, Boabdil;
Y yo por ello, Cristiana,
Te diera de buena gana
Mil cielos, si fueran mil."
Come of such poor stock, and reared on tobacco-smoke and _gazpacho_,
Don Antonio would not have shone, even amongst pigmy Mexicans, for
physical beauty. Five feet high, a framework of bones covered with a
skin of Andalusian tint, the Trueba stood erect and stiff in all the
consciousness of his _sangre regular_. His features were handsome, but
entirely devoid of flesh, his upper lip was covered with a jet-black
mustache mixed with gray, his chin was bearded "like the pard." Every
one around him clad in deer and goat skin, our Don walked conspicuous in
shining suit of black--much the worse for wear, it must be confessed--
with beaver hat sadly battered, and round his body and over his shoulder
an unexceptionable _capa_ of the amplest dimensions. Asking, as he
stepped over him, the pardon of an Indian urchin who blocked the door,
and bowing with punctilious politeness to the sturdy mozas who were
grinding corn, Don Antonio approached our friend Augustin, who was
discussing warlike matters with his administrador.
"Hola! Don Antonio, how do you find yourself, sir?"
"Perfectly well, and your very humble servant, reverend father; and your
worship also, I trust you are in good health?"
"_Sin novedad_--without novelty"; which, since it was one hour and a
half since our friends had separated to take their siestas, was not
impossible.
"Myself and the worthy José," continued Fray Augustin, "were speaking of
the vile invasion of a band of North American robbers, who three years
since fiercely assaulted this peaceful Mission, killing many of its
inoffensive inhabitants, wounding many more, and carrying off several of
our finest colts and most promising mules to their dens and caves in
the Rocky Mountains. Not with impunity, however, did they effect this
atrocity. José informs me that many of the assailants were killed by my
brave Indians. How many said you, José?"
"_Quizas mo-o-ochos,_" answered the Indian.
"Yes, probably a great multitude," continued the padre; "but, unwarned
by such well-merited castigation, it has been reported to me by a
Chemeguaba mansito, that a band of these audacious marauders are now on
the road to repeat the offense, numbering many thousands, well mounted
and armed; and to oppose these white barbarians it behoves us to make
every preparation of defense." *
* From the report to the Governor of California by the Head
of the Mission, in reference to the attacks by the American
mountaineers.
"There is no cause for alarm," answered the Andaluz. "I" (tapping
his breast) "have served in three wars: in that glorious one _de la
Independencia_, when our glorious patriots drove the French like sheep
across the Pyrenees; in that equally glorious one of 1821; and, in
the late magnanimous struggle for the legitimate rights of his majesty
Charles V., King of Spain" (doffing his hat), "whom God preserve. With
that right arm," cried the spirited Don, extending his shriveled member,
"I have supported the throne of my kings--have fought for my country,
mowing down its enemies before me; and with it," vehemently exclaimed
the Gachupin, working himself into a perfect frenzy, "I will slay these
Norte Americanos, should they dare to show their faces in my front.
Adios, Don Augustin Ignacio Sabanal-Morales-y Fuentes," he cried,
doffing his hat with an earth-sweeping bow; "I go to grind my sword.
Till then, adieu."
"A countryman of mine!" said the frayle, admiringly, to the
administrador. "With him by our side we need not to fear: neither Norte
Americanos, nor the devil himself, can harm us when he is by."
Whilst the Trueba sharpens his Tizona, and the priest puffs volumes of
smoke from his nose and mouth, let us introduce to the reader one of the
muchachitas, who knelt grinding corn on the metate, to make tortillas
for the evening meal. Juanita was a stout wench from Sonora, of Mexican
blood, hardly as dark as the other women who surrounded her, and with a
drop or two of the Old Spanish blood struggling with the darker Indian
tint to color her plump cheeks. An enagua (a short petticoat) of red
serge was confined round her waist by a gay band ornamented with
beads, and a chemisette covered the upper part of the body, permitting,
however, a prodigal display of her charms. Whilst pounding sturdily
at the corn, she laughed and joked with her fellow-laborers upon the
anticipated American attack, which appeared to have but few terrors for
her. "_Que vengan_," she exclaimed--"let them come; they are only
men, and will not molest us women. Besides, I have seen these white men
before, in my own country, and they are fine fellows, very tall, and as
white as the snow on the sierras. Let them come, say I!"
"Only hear the girl!" cried another: "if these savages come, then will
they kill Pedrillo, and what will Juanita say to lose her sweetheart?"
"Pedrillo!" sneered the latter; "what care I for Pedrillo? _Soy,
Mejicana, yo_--a Mexican girl am I, I'd have you know, and don't demean
me to look at a wild Indian. Not I, indeed, by my salvation! What I say
is, let the Norte Americanos come."
At this juncture Fray Augustin called for a glass of aguardiente, which
Juanita was dispatched to bring, and, on presenting it, the churchman
facetiously inquired why she wished for the Americans, adding, "Don't
think they'll come here--no, no: here we are brave men, and have Don
Antonio with us, a noble fellow, well used to arms." As the words were
on his lips, the clattering of a horse's hoofs was heard rattling across
the loose stones and pebbles in the bed of the river, and presently an
Indian herder galloped up to the door of the Mission, his horse covered
with foam, and its sides bleeding from spur-wounds.
"_O, padre mio!_" he cried, as soon as he caught sight of his reverence,
"_vienen los Americanos_--the Americans, the Americans are upon us.
_Ave Maria purissima!_--more than ten thosuand are at my heels!"
Up started the priest and shouted for the Don.
That hidalgo presently appeared, armed with the sword that had graced
his thigh in so many glorious encounters--the sword with which he had
mowed down the enemies of his country, and by whose aid he now proposed
to annihilate the American savages, should they dare to appear before
him.
The alarm was instantly given; peones, vaque-ros hurried from the
plains; and milpas, warned by the deep-toned bell, which soon rung out
its sonorous alarum. A score of mounted Indians, armed with gun and
lasso, dashed off to bring intelligence of the enemy. The old gingall on
the roof was crammed with powder and bullets to the very muzzle, by the
frayle's own hand. Arms were brought and piled in the sala, ready for
use. The padre exhorted, the women screamed, the men grew pale and
nervous, and thronged within the walls. Don Antonio, the fiery Andaluz,
alone remained outside, flourishing his whetted saber, and roaring to
the padre, who stood on the roof with lighted match, by the side of
his formidable cannon, not to be affrighted--"that he, the Trueba, was
there, with his Tizona, ready to defeat the devil himself should he come
on."
He was deaf to the entreaties of the priest to enter.
"_Siempre en el frente_--Ever in the van," he said, "was the war-cry of
the Truebas."
But now a cloud of dust was seen approaching from the plain, and
presently a score of horsemen dashed headlong towards the Mission.
"_El enemigo!_" shouted Fray Augustin; and, without waiting to aim, he
clapped his match to the touch-hole of the gun, harmlessly pointed to
the sky, and crying out, "_in el nombre de Dios_"--in God's name--as he
did so, was instantly knocked over and over by the recoil of the piece,
then was as instantly seized by some of the Indian garrison, and forced
through the trap-door into the building; whilst the horsemen (who were
his own scouts) galloped up with the intelligence that the enemy was at
hand, and in overwhelming force.
Thereupon the men were all mounted, and formed in a body before the
building, to the amount of more than fifty, well armed with guns or bows
and arrows. Here the gallant Don harangued them, and infusing into their
hearts a little of his own courage, they eagerly demanded to be led
against the enemy. Fray Augustin reappeared on the roof, gave them his
blessing, advised them to give no quarter, and, with slight misgivings,
saw them ride off to the conflict.
About a mile from the Mission, the plain gradually ascended to a ridge
of moderate elevation, on which was a growth of dwarf oak and ilex.
To this point the eyes of the remaining inmates of the convent were
earnestly directed, as here the enemy was first expected to make his
appearance. Presently a few figures were seen to crown the ridge,
clearly defined against the clear evening sky. Not more than a dozen
mounted men composed this party, which all imagined must be doubtless
the vanguard of the thousand invaders. On the summit of the ridge
they halted a few minutes, as if to reconnoiter; and by this time the
California horsemen were halted in the plain, midway between the Mission
and the ridge, and distant from the former less than half-a-mile, so
that all the operations were clearly visible to the lookers on.
The enemy wound slowly, in Indian file, down the broken ground of the
descent; but when the plain was reached, they formed into something like
a line, and trotted fearlessly towards the Californians. These began
to sit uneasily in their saddles; nevertheless they made a forward
movement, and even broke into a gallop, but soon halted, and again
huddled together. Then the mountaineers quickened their pace, and their
loud shout was heard as they dashed into the middle of the faltering
troop. The sharp cracks of the rifles followed, and the duller reports
of the smooth-bored pieces of the Californians; a cloud of smoke and
dust arose from the plain, and immediately half-a-dozen horses, with
empty saddles, broke from it, followed quickly by the Californians,
flying like mad across the level. The little steady line of the
mountaineers advanced, and puffs of smoke arose as they loaded and
discharged their rifles at the flying horsemen. As the Americans came
on, however, one was seen to totter in his saddle, the rifle fell from
his grasp, and he tumbled headlong to the ground. For an instant his
companions surrounded the fallen man, but again forming, dashed towards
the Mission, shouting fierce war-whoops, and brandishing aloft their
long and heavy rifles. Of the defeated Californians some jumped off
their horses at the door of the Mission, and sought shelter within;
others galloped off towards the sierra in panic-stricken plight. Before
the gate, however, still paced valiantly the proud hidalgo, encumbered
with his cloak, and waving with difficulty his sword above his head. To
the priest and women, who implored him to enter, he replied with cries
of defiance, "_Viva Carlos Quinto!_" and "Death or glory!" He shouted
in vain to the flying crowd to halt; but, seeing their panic was beyond
hope, he clutched his weapon more firmly as the Americans dashed at him,
closed his teeth and his eyes, thought once of the vega of his beloved
Genii, and of Granada la Florida, and gave himself up for lost. Those
inside the Mission, when they observed the flight of their cavalry, gave
up the defense as hopeless; and already the charging mountaineers were
almost under the walls, when they observed the curious figure of the
little Don making demonstrations of hostility.
"Wagh!" exclaimed the leading hunter (no other than our friend La
Bonté), "here's a little critter as means to do all the fighting"; and
seizing his rifle by the barrel, he poked at the Don with the butt-end,
who parried the blow, and with such a sturdy stroke, as nearly severed
the stock in two. Another mountaineer rode up, and, swinging his lasso
overhead, threw the noose dexterously over the Spaniard's head, and as
it fell over his shoulders, drew it taut, thus securing the arms of the
pugnacious Don as in a vice.
"_Quartel!_" cried the latter; "_por Dios, quartel!_"
"Quarter be d------!" exclaimed one of the whites, who understood
Spanish; "who's a-goin' to hurt you, you little critter?"
By this time Fray Augustin was waving a white flag from the roof, in
token of surrender; and soon after he appeared trembling at the door,
beseeching the victors to be merciful and to spare the lives of the
vanquished, when all and everything in the Mission would be freely
placed at their disposal.
"What does the nigger say?" asked old Walker, the leader of the
mountaineers, of the interpreter.
"Well, he talks so queer, this hoss can't rightly make it out."
"Tell the old coon then to quit that, and make them darned greasers
clear out of the lodge, and pock some corn and shucks here for the
animals, for they're nigh give out."
This being conveyed to him in mountain Spanish, which fear alone made
him understand, the padre gave orders to the men to leave the Mission,
advising them, moreover, not to recommence hostilities, as himself was
kept as hostage, and if a finger was lifted against the mountaineers,
he would be killed at once, and the Mission burned to the ground. Once
inside, the hunters had no fear of attack--they could have kept the
building against all California; so, leaving a guard of two outside the
gate, and first seeing their worn-out animals supplied with piles of
corn and shucks, they made themselves at home, and soon were paying
attention to the hot tortillas, meat, and chile colorado which were
quickly placed before them, washing down the hot-spiced viands with deep
draughts of wine and brandy. It would have been amusing to have seen the
faces of these rough fellows as they gravely pledged each other in the
grateful liquor, and looked askance at the piles of fruit served by the
attendant Hebes. These came in for no little share of attention, it
may be imagined, but the utmost respect was paid to them; for your
mountaineer, rough and bear-like though he be, never by word or deed
offends the modesty of a woman, although sometimes obliged to use a
compulsory wooing, when time is not allowed for regular courtship, and
not unfrequently is known to jerk a New Mexican or Californian beauty
behind his saddle, should the obdurate parents refuse consent to their
immediate union. It tickled the Americans not a little to have all their
wants supplied, and to be thus waited upon, by what they considered the
houris of paradise; and after their long journey, and the many hardships
and privations they had suffered, their present luxurious situation
seemed scarcely real.
The hidalgo, released from the durance vile of the lasso, assisted at
the entertainment; his sense of what was due to the _sangre regular_
which ran in his veins being appeased by the fact that he sat _above_
the wild uncouth mountaineers, these preferring to squat cross-legged on
the floor in their own fashion, to the uncomfortable and novel luxury
of a chair. Killbuck, indeed, seemed to have quite forgotten the use of
such pieces of furniture. On Fray Augustin offering him one, and begging
him, with many protestations, to be seated, that old mountain worthy
looked at it, and then at the padre, turned it round, and at length,
comprehending the intention, essayed to sit. This he effected at last,
and sat grimly for some moments, when, seizing the chair by the back,
he hurled it out of the open door, exclaiming,--"Wagh! this coon ain't
hamshot anyhow, and don't want such fixins, he don't;" and gathering his
legs under his body, reclined in the manner customary to him. There was
a prodigious quantity of liquor consumed that night, the hunters making
up for their many banyans; but as it was the pure juice of the grape, it
had little or no effect upon their hard heads. They had not much to fear
from attacks on the part of the Californians; but, to provide against
all emergencies, the padre and the Gachupin were "hobbled," and confined
in an inner room, to which there was no ingress nor egress save through
the door which opened into the apartment where the mountaineers lay
sleeping, two of the number keeping watch. A fandango with the Indian
girls had been proposed by some of them, but Walker placed a decided
veto on this. He said "they had need of sleep now, for there was no
knowing what to-morrow might bring forth; that they had a long journey
before them, and winter was coming on; they would have to streak it
night and day, and sleep when their journey was over, which would not be
until Pike's Peak was left behind them. It was now October, and the way
they'd have to hump it back to the mountains would take the gristle off
a painter's tail."
Young Ned Wooton was not to the fore when the roll was called. He was
courting the Sonora wench Juanita, and to some purpose, for we may at
once observe that the maiden accompanied the mountaineer to his distant
home, and at the present moment is sharing his lodge on Hard-scrabble
creek of the upper Arkansa, having been duly and legally married by Fray
Augustin before their departure.
But now the snow on the ridge of the Sierra Madre, and the nightly
frosts; the angular flights of geese and ducks constantly passing
overhead; the sober tints of the foliage, and the dead leaves that
strew the ground; the withering grass on the plain, and the cold
gusts, sometimes laden with snow and sleet, that sweep from the distant
snow-clad mountains;--all these signs warn us to linger no longer in the
tempting valley of San Fernando, but at once to pack our mules to cross
the dreary and desert plains and inhospitable sierras; and to seek with
our booty one of the sheltered bayous of the Rocky Mountains.
On the third day after their arrival, behold our mountaineers again
upon the march, driving before them--with the assistance of half-a-dozen
Indians impressed for the first few days of the journey until the
cavallada get accustomed to travel without confusion--a band of four
hundred head of mules and horses, themselves mounted on the strongest
and fleetest they could select from at least a thousand.
Fray Augustin and the hidalgo, from the housetop, watched them
depart--the former glad to get rid of such unscrupulous guests at any
cost, the latter rather loath to part with his boon companions, with
whom he had quaffed many a quar-tillo of Californian wine. Great was
the grief, and violent the sobbing, when all the girls in the Mission
surrounded Juanita to bid her adieu, as she, seated _en cavalier_ on an
easy-pacing mule, bequeathed her late companions to the keeping of
every saint in the calendar, and particularly to the great St. Ferdinand
himself, under whose especial tutelage all those in the Mission were
supposed to live. Pedrillo--poor forsaken Pedrillo--a sullen sulky
half-breed, was overcome, not with grief, but with anger at the slight
put upon him, and vowed revenge. He of the _sangre regular_, having not
a particle of enmity in his heart, waved his arm--that arm with which
he had mowed down the enemies of Carlos Quinto--and requested the
mountaineers, if ever fate should carry them to Spain, not to fail to
visit his quinta in the vega of Genii, which, with all in it, he placed
at their worship's disposal--_con muchissima franqueza_.
Fat Fray Augustin likewise waved his arm, but groaned in spirit as he
beheld the noble band of mules and horses throwing back clouds of dust
on the plain where they had been bred. One noble roan stallion seemed
averse to leave his accustomed pasture, and again and again broke away
from the band. Luckily old Walker had taken the precaution to secure the
bell-mare of the herd, and mounted on her rode ahead, the animals all
following their well-known leader. As the roan galloped back, the padre
was in ecstasy. It was a favorite steed, and one he would have gladly
ransomed at any price.
"_Y a viene, y a viene!_" he cried out, "now, now it's coming! hurrah
for the roan!" but, under the rifle of a mountaineer, one of the
Californians dashed at it, a lasso whirling round his head, and turning
and twisting like a doubling hare, as the horse tried to avoid him, at
last threw the open coil over the animal's head, and led him back in
triumph to the band.
"_Maldito sea aquel Indio_--curse that Indian!" quoth the padre, and
turned away.
And now our sturdy band--less two who had gone under--were fairly on
their way. They passed the body of their comrade who had been killed in
the fight before the Mission; the wolves, or Indian dogs, had picked it
to the bones; but a mound near by, surmounted by a rude cross,
showed where the Californians (seven of whom were killed) had been
interred--the pile of stones at the foot of the cross testifying that
many an _ave maria_ had already been said by the poor Indians, to save
the souls of their slaughtered companions from the pangs of purgatory.
For the first few days progress was slow and tedious. The confusion
attendant upon driving so large a number of animals over a country
without trail or track of any description, was sufficient to prevent
speedy traveling; and the mountaineers, desirous of improving the pace,
resolved to pursue a course more easterly, and to endeavor to strike the
great Spanish Trail, which is the route followed by the New Mexicans in
their journeys to and from the towns of Puebla de los Angeles and
Santa Fé. This road, however, crosses a long stretch of desert country,
destitute alike of grass and water, save at a few points, the regular
halting-places of the caravans; and as but little pasture is to be found
at these places at any time, there was great reason to fear, if the
Santa Fé traders had passed this season, that there would not be
sufficient grass to support the numerous cavallada, after the herbage
had been laid under contribution by the traders' animals. However, a
great saving of time would be effected by taking this trail, although
it wound a considerable distance out of the way to avoid the impassable
chain of the Sierra Nevada--the gap in those mountains through which the
Americans had come being far to the northward, and at this late season
probably obstructed by the snow.
Urged by threats and bribes, one of the Indians agreed to guide the
cavallada to the trail, which he declared was not more than five days
distant. As they advanced, the country became wilder and more sterile,--
the valleys through which several small streams coursed alone being
capable of supporting so large a number of animals. No time was lost in
hunting for game; the poorest of the mules and horses were killed for
provisions, and the diet was improved by a little venison when a deer
casually presented itself near the camping-ground. Of Indians they had
seen not one; but they now approached the country of the Diggers, who
infest the district through which the Spanish trail passes, laying
contributions on the caravans of traders, and who have been, not
inaptly, termed the "Arabs of the American desert." The Californian
guide now earnestly entreated permission to retrace his steps, saying
that he should lose his life if he attempted to pass the Digger country
alone on his return. He pointed to a snow-covered peak, at the foot of
which the trail passed; and leave being accorded, he turned his horse's
head towards the Mission of San Fernando.
Although the cavallada traveled, by this time, with much less confusion
than at first, still, from the want of a track to follow, great trouble
and exertion were required to keep the proper direction. The bell-mare
led the van carrying Walker, who was better acquainted with the country
than the others; another hunter of considerable distinction in the band,
on a large mule, rode by his side. Then followed the cavallada, jumping
and frisking with each other, stopping whenever a blade of grass
showed, and constantly endeavoring to break away to green patches which
sometimes presented themselves in the plains. Behind the troop, urging
them on by dint of loud cries and objurgations, rode six mountaineers,
keeping as much as possible in a line. Two others were on each flank to
repress all attempts to wander, and keep the herd in a compact body. In
this order the caravan had been crossing a broken country, up and down
ridges, all day, the animals giving infinite trouble to their drivers,
when a loud shout from the advanced guard put them all upon the
_qui-vive_. Old Walker was seen to brandish the rifle over his head
and point before him, and presently the cry of "The trail! the trail!"
gladdened all hearts with the anticipation of a respite from the
harassing labor of mule-driving. Descending a broken ridge, they at once
struck into a distinct and tolerably well-worn track, into which the
cavallada turned as easily and instinctively as if they had all their
lives been accustomed to travel on beaten roads. Along this they
traveled merrily--their delight being, however, alloyed by frequent
indications that hunger and thirst had done their work on the mules
and horses of the caravans which had preceded them on the trail.
They happened to strike it in the center of a long stretch of desert,
extending sixty miles without either water or pasture; and many animals
had perished here, leaving their bones to bleach upon the plain. The
soil was sandy, but rocks and stones covered the surface, disabling the
feet of many of the young horses and mules, several of which, at this
early stage of the journey, were already abandoned. Traces of the
wretched Diggers became very frequent; these abject creatures resorting
to the sandy plains for the purpose of feeding upon the lizards which
there abound. As yet they did not show; only at night they prowled
around the camp, waiting a favorable opportunity to run the animals. In
the present instance, however, many of the horses having been left on
the road, the Diggers found so plentiful a supply of meat as to render
unnecessary any attack upon the formidable mountaineers.
One evening the Americans had encamped, earlier than usual, on a creek
well timbered with willow and quaking-ash, and affording tolerable
pasture; and although it was still rather early, they determined to stop
here, and give the animals an opportunity to fill themselves. Several
deer had jumped out of the bottom as they entered it; and La Bonté
and Killbuck had sallied from the camp with their rifles to hunt, and
endeavor to procure some venison for supper. Along the river-banks herds
of deer were feeding in every direction, within shot of the belt
of timber; and the two hunters had no difficulty in approaching and
knocking over two fine bucks within a few paces of the thicket. They
were engaged in butchering the animals, when La Bonté, looking up from
his work, saw half-a-dozen Indians dodging among the trees, within a few
yards of himself and Killbuck. At the same instant two arrows thudded
into the carcass of the deer over which he knelt, passing but a few
inches from his head. Hallooing to his companion, La Bonté immediately
seized the deer, and, lifting it with main strength, held it as a shield
before him, but not before an arrow had struck him in the shoulder.
Rising from the ground he retreated behind cover, yelling loudly to
alarm the camp, which was not five hundred yards distant on the other
side of the stream. Killbuck, when apprised of the danger, ran bodily
into the plain, and, keeping out of shot of the timber, joined La Bonté,
who, now out of arrow-shot, threw down his shield of venison and fired
his rifle at the assailants. The Indians appeared at first afraid to
leave the cover; but three or four more joining them, one a chief, they
advanced into the plain with drawn bows, scattering wide apart, and
running swiftly towards the whites in a zigzag course, in order not
to present a steady mark to their unerring rifles. The latter were too
cautious to discharge their pieces, but kept a steady front, with rifle
at shoulder. The Indians evidently disliked to approach nearer; but the
chief, an old grizzled man, incited them by word and gesture--running
in advance and calling upon the others to follow him.
"Ho, boy!" exclaimed Killbuck to his companion, "that old coon must go
under, or we'll get rubbed out by these darned critters."
La Bonté understood him. Squatting on the ground he planted his
wiping-stick firmly at the extent of his left arm, and resting the long
barrel of his rifle on his left hand, which was supported by the stick,
he took a steady aim and fired. The Indian, throwing out his arms,
staggered and let fall his bow--tried hard to recover himself, and then
fell forward on his face. The others, seeing the death of their chief,
turned and made again for the cover. "You darned critters," roared
Killbuck, "take that!" and fired his rifle at the last one, tumbling him
over as dead as a stone. The camp had also been alarmed. Five of them
waded across the creek and took the Indians in rear; their rifles
cracked within the timber, several more Indians fell, and the rest
quickly beat a retreat. The venison, however, was not forgotten; the two
deer were packed into camp, and did the duty of mule-meat that night.
This lesson had a seasonable effect upon the Diggers, who made no
attempt on the cavallada that night or the next, for the camp remained
two days to recruit the animals.
We will not follow the party through all the difficulties and perils of
the desert route, nor detail the various devilries of the Diggers, who
constantly sought opportunities to stampede the animals, or, approaching
them in the night as they grazed, fired their arrows indiscriminately at
the herd, trusting that dead or disabled ones would be left behind,
and afford them a good supply of meat. In the month of December the
mountaineers crossed the great dividing ridge of the Rocky Mountains,
making their way through the snowy barrier with the utmost difficulty,
and losing many mules and horses in the attempt. On passing the ridge,
they at once struck the head-springs of the Arkansa river, and turned
into the Bayou Salade. Here they found a village of Arapahos, and
were in no little fear of leaving their cavallada with these dexterous
horse-thieves. Fortunately the chief in command was friendly to the
whites, and restrained his young men; and a present of three horses
insured his good offices. Still, the near neighborhood of these Indians
being hardly desirable, after a few days; halt the Americans were
again on their way, and halted finally at the juncture of the
Fontaine-qui-bouille with the Arkansa, where they determined to
construct a winter camp. They now considered themselves at home, and at
once set about building a log shanty capable of containing them all, and
a large corral for securing the animals at night, or in case of Indian
alarms. This they effected by felling several large cottonwoods, and
throwing them in the form of a horse-shoe: the entrance, however, being
narrower than in that figure, and secured by upright logs, between which
poles were fixed to be withdrawn at pleasure. The house, or "fort"--
as anything in the shape of a house is called in these parts, where,
indeed, every man must make his house a castle--was loopholed on all
sides, and boasted a turf chimney of rather primitive construction, but
which answered the purpose of drawing the smoke from the interior. Game
was plentiful all around; bands of buffalo were constantly passing the
Arkansa; and there were always deer and antelope within sight of the
fort. The pasture, too, was good and abundant--being the rich grama or
buffalo grass, which, although rather dry at this season, still
retains its fattening qualities; and the animals soon began to improve
wonderfully in condition and strength.
Of the four hundred head of mules and horses with which they had started
from California, but one-half reached the Arkansa. Many had been killed
for food (indeed, they had furnished the only provisions during the
journey), many had been stolen by the Indians, or shot by them at night;
and many had strayed off and not been recovered. We have omitted
to mention that the Sonora girl Juanita, and her spouse Ned Wooton,
remained behind at Roubideau's fort and rendezvous on the Uintah, which
our band had passed on the other side of the mountains, whence they
proceeded with a party to Taos in New Mexico, and resided there for some
years, blessed with a fine family, &c., &c., &c., as the novels end.
As soon as the animals were fat and strong, they were taken down the
Arkansa to Bent's Indian trading-fort, about sixty miles below the mouth
of Fontaine-qui-bouille. Here a ready sale was found for them, mules
being at that time in great demand on the frontier of the United States,
and every season the Bents carried across the plains to Independence a
considerable number collected in the Indian country, and in the upper
settlements of New Mexico. While the mountaineers were descending
the Arkansa a little incident occurred, and some of the party very
unexpectedly encountered an old friend. Killbuck and La Bonté, who were
generally companeros, were riding some distance ahead of the cavallada,
passing at the time the mouth of the Huerfano or Orphan Creek, when, at
a long distance before them, they saw the figure of a horseman, followed
by two loose animals, descending the bluff into the timbered bottom of
the river. Judging the stranger to be Indian, they spurred their horses
and galloped in pursuit, but the figure ahead suddenly disappeared.
However, they quickly followed the track, which was plain enough in the
sandy bottom, that of a horse and two mules. Killbuck scrutinized
the "sign," and puzzled over it a considerable time; and at last
exclaimed--"Wagh! this sign's as plain as mon beaver to me; look at that
hoss-track, boy; did ye ever see that afore?"
"_Well_, I have!" answered La Bonté, peering down at it: "that ar
shuffle-toe seems handy to me now, I _tell_ you."
"The man as used to ride that hoss is long gone under, but the hoss,
darn the old critter, is old Bill Williams's, I'll swar by hook."
"Well, it ain't nothin' else," continued La Bonté, satisfying himself
by a long look; "it's the old boy's hoss as sure as shootin': and them
Rapahos has rubbed him out at last, and raised his animals. Ho, boy!
let's lift their hair."
"Agreed," answered Killbuck; and away they started in pursuit,
determined to avenge the death of their old comrade.
They followed the track through the bottom and into the stream, which it
crossed, and passing a few yards up the bank, entered the water again,
when they could see nothing more of it. Puzzled at this, they sought on
each side the river, but in vain; and, not wishing to lose more time
in the search, they proceeded through the timber on the banks to find a
good camping-place for the night, which had been their object in riding
in advance of the cavallada. On the left bank, a short distance before
them, was a heavy growth of timber, and the river ran in one place close
to a high bluff, between which and the water was an almost impervious
thicket of plum and cherry trees. The grove of timber ended before it
reached this point, and but few scattered trees grew in the little glade
which intervened, and which was covered with tolerable grass. This being
fixed upon as an excellent camp, the two mountaineers rode into the
glade, and dismounted close to the plum and cherry thicket, which formed
almost a wall before them, and an excellent shelter from the wind.
Jumping off their horses, they were in the act of removing the saddles
from their backs, when a shrill neigh burst from the thicket not two
yards behind them: a rustling in the bushes followed, and presently
a man dressed in buckskin and rifle in hand, burst out of the tangled
brush, exclaiming in an angry voice--
"Do'ee hyar now? I was nigh upon gut-shootin' some of e'e--I was now;
thought e'e was darned Rapahos, I did, and cached right off."
"Ho, Bill! what, old hoss! not gone under yet?" cried both the hunters.
"Give us your paw."
"Do'ee now, if hyar arn't them boys as was rubbed out on Lodge Pole
(creek) a time ago. Do'ee hyar? if this ain't _some_ now, I wouldn't say
so."
Leaving old Bill Williams and our two friends to exchange their rough
but hearty greetings, we will glance at that old worthy's history since
the time when we left him câching in the fire and smoke on the Indian
battle-ground in the Rocky Mountains. He had escaped fire and smoke, or
he would not have been here on Arkansa with his old grizzled Nez-perce
steed. On that occasion the veteran mountaineer had lost his two
pack-animals and all his beaver. He was not the man, however, to want a
horse or mule as long as an Indian village was near at hand. Skulking,
therefore, by day in canyon and deep gorges of the mountains, and
traveling by night, he followed closely on the trail of the victorious
savages, bided his time, struck his "coup," and recovered a pair of
pack-horses, which was all he required. Ever since, he had been trapping
alone in all parts of the mountains; had visited the rendezvous but
twice for short periods, and then with full packs of beaver; and was now
on his way to Bent's Fort, to dispose of his present loads of peltry,
enjoy one good carouse on Taos whisky, and then return to some hole or
comer in the mountains which he knew of, to follow in the spring his
solitary avocation. He too had had his share of troubles, and had many
Indian scrapes, but passed safely through all, and scarcely cared
to talk of what he had done, so matter-of-fact to him were the most
extraordinary of his perilous adventures.
Arrived at Bent's Fort, the party disposed of their cavallada, and
then,--respect for the pardonable weaknesses of our mountain friends
prompts us to draw a veil over the furious orgies that ensued. A number
of hunters and trappers were in from their hunting-grounds, and a
village of Shians and some lodges of Kioways were camped round the fort.
As long as the liquor lasted--and there was good store of alcohol as
well as of Taos whisky--the Arkansa resounded with furious mirth, not
unmixed with graver scenes; for your mountaineer, ever quarrelsome in
his cups, is quick to give and take offense when rifles alone can settle
the difference, and much blood is spilt upon the prairie in his wild and
frequent quarrels.
Bent's Port * is situated on the left or northern bank of the
river Arkansa, about one hundred miles from the foot of the Rocky
Mountains--on a low and level bluff of the prairie which here slopes
gradually to the water's edge. The walls are built entirely of
adobes--or sun-burned bricks--in the form of a hollow square, at two
corners of which are circular flanking towers of the same material.
The entrance is by a large gateway into the square, round which are the
rooms occupied by the traders and employes of the host. These are small
in size, with walls colored by a whitewash made of clay found in the
prairie. Their flat roofs are defended along the exterior by parapets
of adobe, to serve as a cover to marksmen firing from the top; and along
the coping grow plants of cactus of all the varieties common in the
plains. In the center of the square is the press for packing the furs;
and there are three large rooms, one used as a store and magazine,
another as a council-room, where the Indians assemble for their "talks,"
whilst the third is the common dining-hall, where the traders, trappers,
and hunters, and all employes, feast upon the best provender the
game-covered country affords. Over the culinary department presided
of late years a fair lady of color, Charlotte by name, who was, as
she loved to say, "de onlee lady in de dam Injun country," and who,
moreover, was celebrated from Long's Peak to the Cumbres Espanolâs for
slapjacks and pumpkin pies.
* Sometimes called Fort William, from one of the two Bent
brothers who founded it in 1829. It was destroyed in 1852.
(Ed.)
Here congregate at certain seasons the merchants of the plains and
mountains, with their stocks of peltry. Chiefs of the Shian, the
Kio-way, and Arapaho, sit in solemn conclave with the head traders,
and smoke the calumet over their real and imaginary grievances. Now
O-cun-no-whurst, the Yellow Wolf, grand chief of the Shian, complains of
certain grave offenses against the dignity of his nation! A trader from
the "big lodge" (the fort) has been in his village, and before the trade
was opened, in laying the customary chief's gift "on the prairie"
has not "opened his hand," but "squeezed out his present between his
fingers," grudgingly and with too sparing measure. This was hard to
bear, but the Yellow Wolf would say no more!
Tah-kai-buhl, or, "He Who Jumps," is deputed from the Kioway to warn the
white traders not to proceed to the Canadian to trade with the Comanche.
That nation is mad--a "heap mad" with the whites, and has "dug up the
hatchet" to "rub out" all who enter its country. The Kioway loves the
pale-face, and gives him warning (and "He Who Jumps" looks as if he
deserves something "on the prairie" for his information).
Shawh-noh-qua-mish, "The Peeled Lodge-pole," is there to excuse his
Arapaho braves, who lately made free with a band of horses belonging
to the fort. He promises the like shall never happen again, and he,
Shawh-noh-qua-mish, speaks with a "single tongue." Over clouds of
tobacco and kinnik-kinnik these grave affairs are settled and terms
arranged.
In the corral, groups of leather-clad mountaineers, with decks of euchre
and seven up, gamble away their hard-earned peltries. The employes--
mostly St. Louis Frenchmen and Canadian voyageurs--are pressing packs
of buffalo-skins, beating robes, or engaged in other duties of a
trading-fort. Indian squaws, the wives of mountaineers, strut about in
all the pride of beads and "fofar-raw," jingling with bells and bugles,
and happy as paint can make them. Hunters drop in with animals packed
with deer or buffalo meat to supply the fort; Indian dogs look anxiously
in at the gateway, fearing to enter and encounter their natural enemies,
the whites; and outside the fort, at any hour of the day or night, one
may safely wager to see a dozen cayeutes or prairie wolves loping round,
or seated on their haunches, and looking gravely, on, waiting patiently
for some chance offal to be cast outside. Against the walls, groups of
Indians too proud to enter without an invitation, lean, wrapped in their
buffalo-robes, sulky and evidently ill at ease to be so near the whites
without a chance of fingering their scalp-locks; their white lodges
shining in the sun, at a little distance from the riverbanks--their
horses feeding in the plain beyond.
The appearance of the fort is very striking, standing as it does
hundreds of miles from any settlement, on the vast and lifeless prairie,
surrounded by hordes of hostile Indians, and far out of reach of
intercourse with civilized man; its mud-built walls inclosing a little
garrison of a dozen hardy men, sufficient to hold in check the numerous
tribes of savages ever thirsting for their blood. Yet the solitary
stranger passing this lone fort feels proudly secure when he comes
within sight of the Stars and Stripes which float above the walls.