|AGAIN we must take a jump with La Bonté over a space of several months,
when we find him in company of half-a-dozen trappers, amongst them
his inseparable companero Killbuck, camped on the Greenhorn Creek, _en
route_ to the settlements of New Mexico. They have a few mules packed
with beaver for the Taos market; but this expedition has been planned
more for pleasure than profit--a journey to Taos valley being the only
civilized relaxation coveted by the mountaineers. Not a few of the
present band are bound thither with matrimonial intentions; the belles
of Nuevo Mejico being to them the _ne plus ultra_ of female perfection,
uniting most conspicuous personal charms (although coated with cosmetic
_alegria_--an herb, with the juice of which the women of Mexico
hideously bedaub their faces) with all the hard-working industry of
Indian squaws. The ladies, on their part, do not hesitate to leave the
paternal abodes, and eternal tortilla-making, to share the perils and
privations of the American mountaineers in the distant wilderness.
Utterly despising their own countrymen, whom they are used to contrast
with the dashing white hunters who swagger in all the pride of fringe
and leather through their towns, they, as is but natural, gladly accept
husbands from the latter class: preferring the stranger, who possesses
the heart and strong right arm to defend them, to the miserable cowardly
"pelâdos," who hold what little they have on sufferance of savage
Indians, but one degree superior to themselves.
Certainly no band of hunters that ever appeared in the Vale of Taos
numbered in its ranks a properer lot of lads than those now camped
on Greenhorn, intent on matrimonial foray into the settlements of New
Mexico. There was young Dick Wooton, * who was "some" for his inches,
being six feet six, and as straight and strong as the barrel of his long
rifle.
* Still living about 1898 in Colorado. (Ed.)
Shoulder to shoulder with this "boy" stood Rube Herring, and not a
hair's-breadth difference in height or size was there between them.
Killbuck, though mountain winters had sprinkled a few snow-flakes on
his head, _looked up_ to neither; and La Bonté held his own with any
mountaineer who ever set a trap in sight of Long's Peak or the Snowy
Range. Marcelline--who, though a Mexican, despised his people and
abjured his blood, having been all his life in the mountains with the
white hunters--looked down easily upon six feet and odd inches. In form
a Hercules, he had the symmetry of an Apollo; with strikingly handsome
features, and masses of long black hair hanging from his slouching
beaver over the shoulders of his buckskin hunting-shirt. He, as he
was wont to say, was "no dam Spaniard, but mountainee man, wagh!"
Chabonard, a half-breed, was not lost in the crowd;--and, the last in
height, but the first in every quality which constitutes excellence in
a mountaineer, whether of indomitable courage or perfect indifference
to death or danger--with an iron frame capable of withstanding hunger,
thirst, heat, cold, fatigue, and hardships of every kind--of wonderful
presence of mind and endless resources in times of peril--with the
instinct of an animal and the moral courage of a _man_,--who was
"taller" for his inches than Kit Carson, paragon of mountaineers? *
Small in stature, and slenderly limbed, but with muscles of wire, with
a fair complexion and quiet intelligent features, to look at Kit none
would suppose that the mild-looking being before him was an incarnate
devil in Indian fight, and had raised more hair from head of Redskins
than any two men in the western country; and yet, thirty winters had
scarcely planted a line or furrow on his clean-shaven face. No name,
however, was better known in the mountains--from Yellow Stone to Spanish
Peaks, from Missouri to Columbia River--than that of Kit Carson, raised
in Boonlick, Missouri State, and a credit to the "diggins" that gave him
birth.
* Since the time of which we speak, Kit Carson has
distinguished himself in guiding the several U. S. exploring
expeditions under Frémont across the Rocky Mountains, and to
all parts of Oregon and California; and for his services,
the President of the United States presented the gallant
mountaineer with the commission of lieutenant in a newly-
raised regiment of mounted riflemen, of which his old leader
Frémont is appointed colonel. (Author's note.)
On Huerfano or Orphan Creek, so called from an isolated _butte_ which
stands on a prairie near the stream, our party fell in with a village
of Yuta Indians, at that time hostile to the whites. Both parties
were preparing for battle, when Killbuck, who spoke the language, went
forward with signs of peace, and after a talk with several chiefs,
entered into an armistice, each party agreeing not to molest the other.
After trading for a few deerskins, which the Yutas are celebrated for
dressing delicately fine, the trappers moved hastily on out of such
dangerous company, and camped under the mountain on Oak Creek, where
they forted in a strong position, and constructed a corral in which to
secure their animals at night. At this point is a tolerable pass through
the mountains, where a break occurs in a range, whence they gradually
decrease in magnitude until they meet the sierras of Mexico, which
connect the two mighty chains of the Andes and the Rocky Mountains. From
the summit of the dividing ridge, to the eastward, a view is had of the
vast sea of prairie which stretches away from the base of the mountains,
in dreary barrenness, for nearly a thousand miles, until it meets
the fertile valley of the great Missouri. Over this boundless expanse
nothing breaks the uninterrupted solitude of the view. Not a tree or
atom of foliage relieves the eye; for the lines of scattered timber
which belt the streams running from the mountains are lost in the shadow
of their stupendous height, and beyond this nothing is seen but the bare
surface of the rolling prairie. In no other part of the chain are the
grand characteristics of the Far West more strikingly displayed than
from this pass. The mountains here rise on the eastern side abruptly
from the plain, and the view over the great prairies is not therefore
obstructed by intervening ridges. To the westward the eye sweeps over
the broken spurs which stretch from the main range in every direction;
whilst distant peaks, for the most part snow-covered, are seen at
intervals rising isolated above the range. On all sides the scene is
wild and dismal.
Crossing by this path, the trappers followed the Yuta trail over a
plain, skirting a pine-covered ridge, in which countless herds of
antelope, tame as sheep, were pasturing. Numerous creeks intersect it,
well timbered with oak, pine, and cedar, and well stocked with game of
all kinds. On the eleventh day from leaving the Huerfano, they struck
the Taos valley settlement on Arroyo Hondo, and pushed on at once to
the village of Fernandez--sometimes, but improperly, called Taos. As
the dashing band clattered through the village, the dark eyes of the
reboso-wrapped muchachas peered from the doors of the adobe houses,
each mouth armed with cigarito, which was at intervals removed to allow
utterance to the salutation to each hunter as he trotted past of _Adios
Americanos_,--"Welcome to Fernandez!" and then they hurried off to
prepare for the fandango, which invariably followed the advent of the
mountaineers. The men, however, seemed scarcely so well pleased; but
leaned sulkily against the walls, their sarapes turned over their left
shoulder, and concealing the lower part of the face, the hand appearing
from its upper folds only to remove the eternal cigarro from their lips.
They, from under their broad-brimmed sombreros, scowled with little
affection on the stalwart hunters, who clattered past them, scarcely
deigning to glance at the sullen Pelâdos, but paying incomprehensible
compliments to the buxom wenches who smiled at them from the doors. Thus
exchanging salutations, they rode up to the house of an old mountaineer,
who had long been settled here with a New Mexican wife, and who was the
recognized entertainer of the hunters when they visited Taos valley,
receiving in exchange such peltry as they brought with them.
No sooner was it known that Los Americanos had arrived than nearly all
the householders of Fernandez presented themselves to offer the use of
their salas for the fandango which invariably celebrated their arrival.
This was always a profitable event; for as the mountaineers were
generally pretty well flush of cash when on their spree, and as
open-handed as an Indian could wish, the sale of whisky, with which
they regaled all comers, produced a handsome return to the fortunate
individual whose room was selected for the fandango. On this occasion
the sala of the Alcalde Don Cornelio Vegil was selected and put in
order; a general invitation was distributed; and all the dusky beauties
of Fernandez were soon engaged in arraying themselves for the fête.
Off came the coats of dirt and _alegria_ which had bedaubed their faces
since the last "function," leaving their cheeks clear and clean. Water
was profusely used, and their _cuerpos_ were doubtless astonished by the
unusual lavation. Their long black hair was washed and combed, plastered
behind their ears, and plaited into a long queue, which hung down
their backs. _Enaguas_ of gaudy color (red most affected) were donned,
fastened round the waist with ornamented belts, and above this a
snow-white _camisita_ of fine linen was the only covering, allowing
a prodigal display of their charms. Gold and silver ornaments, of
antiquated pattern, decorate their ears and necks; and massive crosses
of the precious metals, wrought from the gold or silver of their own
placeres, hang pendent on their breasts. The enagua or petticoat,
reaching about half-way between the knee and ankle, displays their
well-turned limbs, destitute of stockings, and their tiny feet, thrust
into quaint little shoes (_zapatitos_) of Cinderellan dimensions. Thus
equipped, with the reboso drawn over their heads and faces, out of
the folds of which their brilliant eyes flash like lightning, and
each pretty mouth armed with its cigarito, they coquettishly enter the
fandango. * Here, at one end of a long room, are seated the musicians,
their instruments being generally a species of guitar called _heaca,
a bandolin_, and an Indian drum called _tombé_--one of each. Round the
room groups of New Mexicans lounge, wrapped in the eternal sarape,
and smoking of course, scowling with jealous eyes at the more favored
mountaineers. These, divested of their hunting-coats of buckskins,
appear in their bran-new shirts of gaudy calico, and close-fitting
buckskin pantaloons, with long fringes down the outside seam from the
hip to the ankle; with moccasins, ornamented with bright beads and
porcupine-quills. Each, round his waist, wears his mountain-belt and
scalp-knife, ominous of the company he is in, and some have pistols
sticking in their belts.
* The word fandango, in New Mexico, is not applied to the
peculiar dance known in Spain by that name, but designates a
ball or dancing meeting.
The dances--save the mark!--are without form or figure, at least those
in which the white hunters sport the fantastic toe. Seizing his partner
round the waist with the grip of a grisly bear, each mountaineer whirls
and twirls, jumps and stamps; introduces Indian steps used in the
"scalp" or "buffalo" dances, whooping occasionally with unearthly cry,
and then subsiding into the jerking step, raising each foot alternately
from the ground, so much in vogue in Indian ballets. The hunters
have the floor all to themselves. The Mexicans have no chance in such
physical force dancing; and if a dancing Pelâdo * steps into the ring,
a lead-like thump from a galloping mountaineer quickly sends him
sprawling, with the considerate remark--"Quit, you darned Spaniard! you
can't shine in this crowd."
During a lull, guages ** filled with whisky go the rounds--offered to
and seldom refused by the ladies, sturdily quaffed by the mountaineers,
and freely swallowed by the Pelâdos, who drown their jealousy and
envious hate of their entertainers in potent aguardiente. Now, as the
guages are oft refilled and as often drained, and as night advances, so
do the spirits of the mountaineers become more boisterous, while their
attentions to their partners become warmer--the jealousy of the natives
waxes hotter thereat, and they begin to show symptoms of resenting
the endearments which the mountaineers bestow upon their wives and
sweethearts. And now, when the room is filled to crowding,--with two
hundred people swearing, drinking, dancing, and shouting--the half-dozen
Americans monopolizing the fair, to the evident disadvantage of at least
threescore scowling Pelados, it happens that one of these, maddened by
whisky and the green-eyed monster, suddenly seizes a fair one from the
waist-encircling arm of a mountaineer, and pulls her from her partner.
Wagh!--La Bonté--it is he--stands erect as a pillar for a moment, then
raises his hand to his mouth and gives a ringing war-whoop--jumps upon
the rash Pelâdo, seizes him by the body as if he were a child, lifts
him over his head, and dashes him with the force of a giant against the
wall.
* A nickname for the idle fellows hanging about a Mexican
town, translated into "Greasers" by the Americans.
** Cask-shaped gourds.
The war, long threatened, has commenced; twenty Mexicans draw their
knives and rush upon La Bonté, who stands his ground, and sweeps them
down with his ponderous fist, one after another, as they throng around
him. "Howgh-owgh-owgh-owgh-h!" the well-known war-whoop, bursts from
the throats of his companions, and on they rush to the rescue. The women
scream, and block the door in their eagerness to escape; and thus the
Mexicans are compelled to stand their ground and fight. Knives glitter
in the light, and quick thrusts are given and parried. In the center of
the room the whites stand shoulder to shoulder, covering the floor with
Mexicans by their stalwart blows; but the odds are fearful against them,
and other assailants crowd up to supply the place of those who fall.
The alarm being given by the shrieking women, reïnforcments of Pelâdos
rushed to the scene of action, but could not enter the room, which was
already full. The odds began to tell against the mountaineers, when Kit
Carson's quick eye caught sight of a high stool or stone, supported by
three long heavy legs. In a moment he had cleared his way to this, and
in another the three legs were broken off and in the hands of himself,
Dick Wooton, and La Bonté. Sweeping them round their heads, down came
the heavy weapons amongst the Mexicans with wonderful effect. At this
the mountaineers gave a hearty whoop, and charged the wavering enemy
with such resistless vigor, that they gave way and bolted through the
door, leaving the floor strewed with wounded, many most dangerously;
for, as may be imagined, a thrust from the keen scalp-knife by the
nervous arm of a mountaineer was no baby blow, and seldom failed to
strike home--up to the "Green River" * on the blade.
* The knives used by the hunters and trappers are
manufactured at the "Green River" works, and have that name
stamped upon the blade. Hence the mountain term for doing
anything effectual is "up to Green River."
The field being won, the whites, too, beat a quick retreat to the house
where they were domiciled, and where they had left their rifles. Without
their trusty weapons they felt, indeed, unarmed; and not knowing how
the affair just over would be followed up, lost no time in making
preparations for defense. However, after great blustering on the part
of the prefecto, who, accompanied by a _posse comitatus_ of "Greasers,"
proceeded to the house, and demanded the surrender of all concerned in
the affair--which proposition was received with a yell of derision--the
business was compounded by the mountaineers promising to give sundry
dollars to the friends of two of the Mexicans who died during the night
of their wounds, and to pay for a certain amount of masses to be sung
for the repose of their souls in purgatory. Thus the affair blew over;
but for several days the mountaineers never showed themselves in the
streets of Fernandez without their rifles on their shoulders, and
refrained from attending fandangos for the present, and until the
excitement had cooled down.
A bitter feeling, however, existed on the part of the men; and one or
two offers of a matrimonial nature were rejected by the papas of certain
ladies who had been wooed by some of the white hunters, and their hands
formally demanded from their respective padres.
'La Bonté had been rather smitten with the charms of one Dolores
Salazar--a buxom lass, more than three parts Indian in her blood, but
confessedly the beauty of the Vale of Taos. She, by dint of eye, and of
nameless acts of elaborate coquetry, with which the sex so universally
bait their traps, whether in the salons of Belgravia or the rancherias
of New Mexico, contrived to make considerable havoc in the heart of our
mountaineer; and when once Dolores saw she had made an impression, she
followed up her advantage with all the arts the most civilized of her
sex could use when fishing for a husband.
La Bonté, however, was too old a hunter to be easily caught; and
before committing himself, he sought the advice of his tried companion,
Killbuck. Taking him to a retired spot without the village, he drew out
his pipe and charged it--seated himself cross-legged on the ground, and
with Indian gravity, composed himself for a "talk."
"Ho, Killbuck!" he began, touching the ground with the bowl of his pipe,
and then turning the stem upwards for _medicine_--"Hyar's a child feels
squamptious-like, and, nigh upon gone beaver, he is--Wagh!"
"Wagh!" exclaimed Killbuck, all attention.
"Old hoss," continued the other, "thar's no use câching anyhow what a
nigger feels--so hyar's to put out. You're good for beaver I know; at
deer or buffler, or darned Red Injun either, you're some. Now that's a
fact. Off-hand, or with a rest, you make'em come. You knows the sign of
Injuns slick--Blackfoot or Sioux, Pawnee or Burntwood, Teton, Rapaho,
Shian, or Shoshonée, Yutah, Piyutah, or Yamhareek--their trail's as
plain as writin', old hoss, to you."
"Wagh!" grunted Killbuck, blushing bronze at all these compliments.
"Your sight ain't bad. Elks is elk; black-tailed deer ain't white-tails;
and b'ar is b'ar to you, and nothin' else, a long mile off and more."
"Wa-agh!"
"Thar ain't a track as leaves its mark upon the plains or mountains but
you can read off-hand; that I've see'd myself. But tell me, old hoss,
can you make understand the sign as shows itself in a woman's breast?"
Killbuck removed the pipe from his mouth, raised his head, and puffed a
rolling cloud of smoke into the air,--knocked the ashes from the bowl,
likewise made his _medicine_--and answered thus:--"From Red River, away
up north among the Britishers, to Heely (Gila) in the Spanish country--
from old Mis sour a to the Sea of Californy, I've trapped and hunted. I
knows the Injuns and thar sign, and they knows me, I'm thinkin'. Thirty
winters has snowed on me in these hyar mountains, and a nigger or a
Spaniard * would larn some in that time. This old tool" (tapping his
rifle) "shoots center, _she_ does; and if thar's game afoot, this child
knows bull from cow, and ought to could. That deer is deer, and goats
is goats, is plain as paint to any but a greenhorn. Beaver's a cunning
critter, but I've trapped a heap; and at killing meat when meat's
a-running, I'll shine in the biggest kind of crowd. For twenty year I
packed a squaw along. Not one, but a many. First I had a Blackfoot--the
darndest slut as ever cried for fofarraw. I lodge-poled her on Colter's
Creek, and made her quit. My buffler hoss, and as good as four packs of
beaver, I gave for old Bull-tail's daughter. He was head chief of the
Ricaree, and came nicely round me. Thar wrasn't enough scarlet cloth,
nor beads, nor vermilion in Sublette's packs for her. Traps wouldn't
buy her all the fofarraw she wanted; and in two years I'd sold her to
Cross-Eagle for one of Jake Hawken's guns--this very one I hold in my
hands. Then I tried the Sioux, the Shian, and a Digger from the other
side, who made the best moccasin as ever I wore. She was the best of
all, and was rubbed out by the Yutas in the Bayou Salade. Bad was the
best; and after she was gone under I tried no more.
* Always alluding to Mexicans, who are invariably called
Spaniards by the Western Americans.
"Afore I left the settlements I know'd a white gal, and she was some
punkins. I have never see'd nothing as 'ould beat her. Red blood won't
shine any ways you fix it; and though I'm h----for sign, a woman's
breast is the hardest kind of rock to me, and leaves no trail that I can
see of. I've hearn you talk of a gal in Memphis County; Mary Brand you
called her oncest. The gal I said I know'd, her name I disremember, but
she stands before me as plain as Chimley Rock on Platte, and thirty year
and more harn't changed a feature in her face, to me.
"If you ask this child, he'll tell you to leave the Spanish slut to
her Greasers, and hold on till you take the trail to old Missoura, whar
white and Christian gals are to be had for axing. Wagh!" La Bonté rose
to his feet. The mention of Mary Brand's name decided him; and he said
--"Darn the Spaniard! she can't shine with me. Come, old hoss! let's
move."
And shouldering their rifles, the two companeros returned to the Ranch.
More than one of the mountaineers had fulfilled the object of their
journey, and had taken to themselves a partner from amongst the belles
of Taos, and now they were preparing for their return to the mountains.
Dick Wooton was the only unfortunate one. He had wooed a damsel whose
parents peremptorily forbade their daughter to wed the hunter, and he
therefore made ready for his departure with considerable regret.
The day came, however. The band of mountaineers were already mounted,
and those with wives in charge were some hours on the road, leaving the
remainder quaffing many a stirrup-cup be-, fore they left. Dick Wooton
was as melancholy as a buffalo bull in spring; and as he rode down the
village, and approached the house of his ladylove, who stood wrapped in
reboso, and cigarito in mouth, on the sill of the door, he turned away
his head as if dreading to say _adios_. La Bonté rode beside him, and a
thought struck him.
"Ho, Dick!" he said, "thar's the gal, and thar's the mountains: shoot
sharp's the word."
Dick instantly understood him, and was "himself again." He rode up to
the girl as if to bid her adieu, and she came to meet him. Whispering
one word, she put her foot upon his, was instantly seized round the
waist, and placed upon the horn of his saddle. He struck spurs into his
horse, and in a minute was out of sight; his three companions covering
his retreat, and menacing with their rifles the crowd which was soon
drawn to the spot by the cries of the girl's parents, who had been
astonished spectators of the daring rape.
The trapper and his bride, however, escaped scatheless, and the whole
party effected a safe passage of the mountains, and reached the Arkansa,
where the band was broken up,--some proceeding to Bent's Fort, and
others to the Platte, amongst whom were Killbuck and La Bonté, still in
company.
These two once more betook themselves to trapping, the Yellow Stone
being their chief hunting-ground. But we must again leap over months
and years, rather than conduct the reader through all their perilous
wanderings, and at last bring him back to the camp on Bijou, where
we first introduced him to our mountaineers; and as we have already
followed them on the Arapaho trail, which they pursued to recover their
stolen animals from a band of that nation, we will once again seat
ourselves at the camp on Boiling Spring, where they had met a
strange hunter on a solitary expedition to the Bayou Salade, whose
double-barreled rifle had excited their wonder and curiosity.
From him they learned also that a large band of Mormons were wintering
on the Arkansa, _en route_ to the Great Salt Lake and Upper California;
and as our hunters had before fallen in with the advanced-guard of these
fanatic emigrants, and felt no little wonder that such helpless people
should undertake so long a journey through the wilderness, the stranger
narrated to them the history of the sect, which we shall shortly
transcribe for the benefit of the reader.