Scarcity of Food--An Incident--Looing and Bleating--Messrs.
Bents--Trade--Little Arkansas--A Nauseous Meal--A Flood--An
Onset--A Hard Ride--The Deliverance--The Arkansas--An
Attack--The Similitude of Death--The Feast and a bit of
Philosophy--The Traders Walworth and Alvarez's Teams--A
Fright--A Nation of Indians--Their Camp and Hunts--A Treaty--A
Tempest--Indian Butchering--A Hunt among the Buffalo--A
Wounded Man--A Drive--A Storm and its Enemy--Night among the
Buffalo--The Country and the Heavens--The Ford--A Mutiny
and its Consequences--Blistered Fingers--Liberty--Bent's
Fort--Disbanding.
Our hunters, who had been despatched from Council Grove in search
of game, had rejoined us in Kelly's camp. And as our larder had not
been improved by the hunt, another party was sent out, under orders
to advance to the buffalo with all possible dispatch, and send back
to the main body a portion of the first meat that should be taken.
This was a day of mud and discomfort. Our pack and riding animals,
constantly annoyed by the slippery clay {40} beneath them, became
restive, and not unfrequently relieved themselves of riders or packs,
with little apparent respect for the wishes of their masters. And yet,
as if a thousand thorns should hatchel out at least one rose, we had
one incident of lively interest. For, while halting to secure the load
of a pack-mule, whose obstinacy would have entitled him to that name,
whatever had been his form, we espied upon the side of a neighbouring
ravine several elk and antelope. The men uttered pleas for their
stomachs at the sight of so much fine meat, and with teeth shut in the
agony of expectation, primed anew their rifles, and rushed away for the
prize.
Hope is very delusive, when it hunts elk upon the open plain. This
fact was never more painfully true, than in the present instance. They
were approached against the wind--the ravines that were deepest, and
ran nearest the elk, were traversed in such a manner that the huntsmen
were within three hundred yards of them before they were discovered;
and then never did horses run nearest their topmost speed for a stake
in dollars than did ours for a steak of meat. But, alas! the little
advantage gained at the start, from the bewildered {41} inaction of the
game, began to diminish as soon as those fleet coursers of the prairie
laid their nimble hoofs to the sward, and pledged life upon speed. In
this exigency a few balls were sent whistling after them, but they soon
slept in the earth, instead of the panting hearts they were designed to
render pulseless; and we returned to our lonely and hungry march.
At sunset we encamped on the banks of a branch of the Arkansas.[38]
Our rations were now reduced to one-eighth of a pint of flour to each
man. This, as our custom was, was kneaded with water, and baked or
rather dried in our frying-pan, over a fire sufficiently destitute
of combustibles to have satisfied the most fastidious miser in that
line.--Thus refreshed, and our clothing dried in the wind during the
day, we hugged our rifles to our hearts, and soundly slept.
The sun of the following morning was unusually bright, the sky
cloudless and delightfully blue. These were new pleasures; for the
heavens and the earth had, till that morning, since our departure from
home, scourged us with every discouragement which the laws of matter
could produce. Now all around us smiled. Dame {42} Nature, a prude
though she be, seemed pleased that she had belaboured our courage with
so little success. To add to our joy, a herd of oxen and mules were
feeding and lowing upon the opposite bank of the stream. They belonged
to the Messrs. Bents, who have a trading post upon the Arkansas. One
of the partners and thirty odd men were on their way to St. Louis,
with ten waggons laden with peltries. They were also driving down two
hundred Santa Fé sheep, for the Missouri market. These animals are
usually purchased from the Spaniards; and if the Indians prove far
enough from the track so as to permit the purchaser to drive them
into the States, his investment is unusually profitable. The Indians,
too, residing along the Mexican frontier, not infrequently find it
convenient to steal large numbers of mules, &c., from their no less
swarthy neighbours; and from the ease with which they acquire them,
find themselves able and willing to sell them to traders for a very
easily arranged compensation.
Of these several sources of gain, it would seem the Messrs. Bents[39]
avail themselves; since, on meeting the gentleman in charge of the
waggons before spoken of, he informed {43} us that he had lost thirty
Mexican mules and seven horses; and desired us, as we intended to pass
his post, to recover and take them back. A request of any kind from a
white face in the wilderness is never denied. Accordingly, we agreed to
do as he desired, if within our power.
We made little progress to-day. Our packs, that had been soaked by
storm and stream, required drying, and for that purpose we went early
into camp. The country in which we now were, was by no means sacred to
safety of life, limb or property. The Pawnee and Cumanche war-parties
roam through it during the spring and summer months, for plunder and
scalps. The guards, which we had had on the alert since leaving Council
Grove, were therefore carefully stationed at nightfall among the
animals around the tent, and urged to the most careful watchfulness.
But no foe molested us. In the expressive language of the giant of our
band, prefaced always with an appropriate sigh and arms akimbo, "We
were not murdered yet."
About twelve o'clock of the 14th, we passed the Little Arkansas.[40]
Our hunters had been there the previous night, and had succeeded in
taking a dozen cat-fish. Their {44} own keen hunger had devoured a part
of them without pepper, or salt, or bread, or vegetable. The remainder
we found attached to a bush in the stream, in an unwholesome state of
decomposition. They were, however, taken up and examined by the senses
of sight and smell alternately; and viewed and smelt again in reference
to our ravenous palates; and although some doubt may have existed in
regard to the Hebrew principle of devouring so unclean a thing, our
appetites allowed of no demur. We roasted and ate, as our companions
had done.
I had an opportunity at this place to observe the great extent of the
rise and fall of these streams of the plains in a single day or night.
It would readily be presumed, by those who have a correct idea of the
floods of water that the thunder-storms of this region pour upon the
rolling prairies, that a few miles of the channels of a number of the
creeks over which the storms pass may be filled to the brim in an hour;
and that there are phenomena of floods and falls of water occurring
in this vast den of tempests, such as are found nowhere else. Still,
bearing this evidently true explanation in mind, it was with some
{45} difficulty that I yielded to the evidences on the banks of the
Little Arkansas, that that stream had fallen fifteen feet during the
last twelve hours. It was still too deep for the safety of the pack
animals to attempt to ford it in the usual way. The banks, also, at the
fording-place were left by the retiring flood, a quagmire; so soft,
that a horse without burthen could, with the greatest difficulty, drag
himself through it to the water below. In our extremity, however, we
tied our lashing-lines together, and, attaching one end to a strong
stake on the side we occupied, sent the other across the stream, and
tied it firmly to a tree. Our baggage, saddles and clothing suspended
to hooks running to and fro on this line, were securely passed over.
The horses being then driven across at the ill-omened ford, and
ourselves over by swimming and other means, we saddled and loaded our
animals with their several burthens, and recommenced our march.
The 14th, 15th, and 16th, were days of more than ordinary hardships.
With barely food enough to support life, drenched daily by
thunder-storms and by swimming and fording the numerous drains of
this alluvial {46} region, and wearied by the continual packing and
unpacking of our animals, and enfeebled by the dampness of my couch at
night, I was so much reduced when I dismounted from my horse on the
evening of the 16th, that I was unable to loosen the girth of my saddle
or spread my blanket for repose.
The soil thus far from the frontier appeared to be from three to six
feet in depth; generally undulating, and occasionally, far on the
western horizon, broken into ragged and picturesque bluffs. Between the
swells, we occasionally met small tracts of marshy ground saturated
with brackish water.
On the night of the 16th, near the hour of eight o'clock, we were
suddenly roused by the rapid trampling of animals near our camp.
"Indians!" was the cry of the guard, "Indians!" We had expected an
encounter with them as we approached the buffalo, and were consequently
not unprepared for it. Each man seized his rifle, and was instantly
in position to give the intruders a proper reception. On they came,
rushing furiously in a dense column till within thirty yards of our
tent; and then wheeling short to the left, abruptly halted. {47} Not a
rifle-ball or an arrow had yet cleft the air. Nor was it so necessary
that they should; for we discovered that, instead of bipeds of bloody
memory, they were the quadrupeds that had eloped from the fatherly care
of Mr. Bent, making a call of ceremony upon their compatriot mules,
&c., tied to stakes within our camp.
17th. We were on the trail at seven o'clock. The sun of a fine morning
shone upon our ranks of beasts and men. Were I able to sketch the
woe-shrivelled visages of my starving men, with occasional bursts of
wrath upon Mr. Bent's mules as they displayed their ungrateful heels
to us, who had restored them from the indecencies of savage life to
the dominion of civilized beings, my readers would say that the sun
never looked upon a more determined disregard of the usages of social
life. A long march before us--the Arkansas and its fish before us, the
buffalo with all the delicate bits of tender loin and marrow bones,
(even the remembrance of them inspires me)--with all these before us,
who that has the sympathies of the palate sensibilities within him, can
suppose that we did not use the spur, whip and goad with a right good
will on that memorable day? {48} Thirty or forty miles, none but the
vexed plains can tell which, were travelled over by one o'clock. The
afternoon hours, too, were counted slowly. High bluffs, and butes, and
rolls, and salt marshes alternately appearing and falling behind us,
with here and there a plat of the thick short grass of the upper plains
and the stray bunches of the branching columnar and foliated prickly
pear, indicated that we were approaching some more important course of
the mountain waters than we had yet seen since leaving the majestic
Missouri. "On, merrily on," rang from our parched and hungry mouths;
and if the cheerful shout did not allay our appetites or thirst, it
quickened the pace of our mules, and satisfied each other of our
determined purpose to behold the Arkansas by the light of that day.
During the hurried drive of the afternoon we became separated from one
another among the swells over which our track ran. Two of the advanced
platoon took the liberty, in the absence of their commander, to give
chace to an antelope which seemed to tantalize their forbearance by
exhibiting his fine sirloins to their view. Never did men better earn
forgiveness for disobedience of orders. One of them crept as I {49}
learned half a mile upon his hands and knees to get within rifle shot
of his game;--shot at three hundred yards' distance and brought him
down! And now, who, in the tameness of an enough-and-to-spare state of
existence, in which every emotion of the mind is surfeited and gouty,
can estimate our pleasure at seeing these men gallop into our ranks
with this antelope? You may "guess," reader, you may "reckon," you
may "calculate," or if learned in the demi-semi-quavers of modern
exquisiteness, you may thrust rudely aside all these wholesome and fat
old words of the heart, and "shrewdly imagine," and still you cannot
comprehend the feelings of that moment! Did we shout? were we silent?
no, neither. Did we gather quickly around the horse which bore the
slaughtered animal? No, nor this. An involuntary murmur of relief from
the most fearful forebodings, and the sudden halt of the riding animals
in their tracks were the only movements, the only acts that indicated
our grateful joy at this deliverance.
Our intention of seeing the Arkansas that night, however, soon banished
every other thought from the mind. Whips and spurs therefore were
freely used upon our animals {50} as they ascended tediously a long
roll of prairies covered with the wild grasses and stinted stalks of
the sun-flower. We rightly conceived this to be the bordering ridge
of the valley of the Arkansas. For on attaining its summit we saw ten
miles of that stream lying in the sunset like a beautiful lake among
the windings of the hills. It was six miles distant--the sun was
setting. The road lay over sharp rolls of land that rendered it nearly
impossible for us to keep our jaded animals on a trot. But the sweet
water of that American Nile, and a copse of timber upon its banks that
offered us the means of cooking the antelope to satisfy our intolerable
hunger, gave us new energy; and on we went at a rapid pace while
sufficient light remained to show us the trail.[41]
When within about a mile and a half of the river a most annoying
circumstance crossed our path. A swarm of the most gigantic and
persevering musquitoes that ever gathered tribute from human kind,
lighted on us and demanded blood. Not in the least scrupulous as to the
manner in which they urged their claims, they fixed themselves boldly
and without ceremony upon our organs of sight, smell, and whipping,
{51} in such numbers, that in consequence of the employment they gave
us in keeping them at the distance, and the pain which they inflicted
upon our restive animals, we lost the trail. And now came quagmires,
flounderings, and mud, such as would have taught the most hardened
rebel in morals that deviations from the path of duty lead sometimes to
pain, sometimes to swamps. Long perseverance at length enabled us to
reach the great "River of the Plains."
We tarried for a moment upon the banks of the stream and cast about
to extricate ourselves from the Egyptian plagues around us. To regain
our track in the darkness of night, now mingled with a dense fog, was
no easy task. We, however, took the lead of a swell of land that ran
across it, and in thirty minutes entered a path so well marked that we
could tread our way onward till we should find wood sufficient to cook
our supper. This was a dreary ride. The stars gave a little light among
the mist, which enabled us to discern, on the even line of the horizon,
a small speck that after three hours' travel we found to be a small
grove of cotton wood upon an island. We encamped near it; and after
our baggage was piled up so {52} as to form a circle of breastworks
for defence, our weariness was such that we sank among it supperless,
and slept with nothing but the heavens over us. And although we were
in the range of the Cumanche hunting as well as war-parties, the guard
slept in spite of the savage eyes that might be gloating vengeance on
our little band. No fear or war-whoop could have broken the slumbers
of that night. It was a temporary death. Nature had made its extreme
effort, and sunk in helplessness till its ebbing energies should reflow.
On the morning of the 18th of June we were up early--early around among
our animals to pull up the stakes to which they were tied, and drive
them fast again, where they might graze while we should eat. Then
to the care of ourselves. We wrestled manfully with the frying-pan
and roasting-stick; and anon in the very manner that one sublime act
always follows its predecessor, tore bone from bone the antelope ribs,
with so strong a grip and with such unrestrained delight that a truly
philosophic observer might have discovered in the flash of our eyes
and the quick energetic motion of the nether portions of our {53}
physiognomies, that eating, though an uncommon, was nevertheless our
favourite occupation.--Then "catch up," "saddles on," "packs on,"
"mount," "march," were heard on all sides, and we were on the route,
hurry-scurry, with forty loose mules and horses leering, kicking and
braying, and some six or eight pack animals making every honourable
effort to free themselves from servitude, while we were applying to
their heads and ears certain gentle intimations that such ambitious
views accorded not with their master's wishes.
In the course of the day we crossed several tributaries of the
Arkansas. At one of these, called by the traders Big Turkey Creek,[42]
we were forced to resort again to our Chilian bridge. In consequence
of the spongy nature of the soil and the scarcity of timber, we here
found more difficulty in procuring fastenings for our ropes, than
in any previous instance. At length, however, we obtained pieces of
flood-wood, and drove them into the soft banks "at an inclination,"
said he of the axe, "of precisely 45° to the plane of the horizon."
Thus supported, the stakes stood sufficiently firm for our purposes;
{54} and our bags, packs, selves, and beasts were over in a trice, and
in the half of that mathematical fraction of time, we were repacked,
remounted, and trotting off at a generous pace, up the Arkansas. The
river appeared quite unlike the streams of the East, and South, and
Southwest portion of the States in all its qualities. Its banks were
low--one and a half feet above the medium stage of water, composed of
an alluvium of sand and loam as hard as a public highway, and generally
covered with a species of wiry grass that seldom grows to more than one
and a half or two inches in height. The sun-flower of stinted growth,
and a lonely bush of willow, or an ill-shaped sapless, cotton-wood
tree, whose decayed trunk trembled under the weight of years, together
with occasional bluffs of clay and sand-stone, formed the only
alleviating features of the landscape. The stream itself was generally
three-quarters of a mile in width, with a current of five miles per
hour, water three and a half to four feet, and of a chalky whiteness.
It was extremely sweet, so delicious that some of my men declared it an
excellent substitute for milk.
{55} Camped on the bank of the river where the common tall grass of
the prairie grew plentifully; posted our night-guard, and made a part
of our meat into soup for supper. I will here give a description of
the manner of making this soup. It was indeed a rare dish; and my
friends of the trencher--ye who have been spiced, and peppered, and
salted, from your youth up, do not sneer when I declare that of all
the innovations upon kitchen science which civilization has engrafted
upon the good old style of the patriarchs, nothing has produced so
depraving an effect upon taste, as these self-same condiments of salt,
pepper, &c. But to our soup. It was made of simple meat and water--of
pure water, such as kings drank from the streams of the good old
land of pyramids and flies, and of the wild meat of the wilderness,
untainted with any of the aforesaid condiments--simply boiled, and
then eaten with strong, durable iron spoons and butcher-knives. Here
I cannot restrain from penning one strong and irrepressible emotion
that I well remember to have experienced while stretched upon my couch
after our repast. The exceeding comfort of body and mind {56} at that
moment undoubtedly gave it being. It was an emotion of condolence
for those of my fellow mortals who are engaged in the manufacture of
rheumatisms and gout. Could they only for an hour enter the portals
of prairie life--for one hour breathe the inspiration of a hunter's
transcendentalism--for one hour feed upon the milk and honey and
marrow of life's pure unpeppered and unsalted viands, how soon would
they forsake that ignoble employment--how soon would their hissing and
vulgar laboratories of disease and graves be forsaken, and the crutch
and Brandreth's pills be gathered to the tombs of our fathers!
Our next day's march terminated in an encampment with the hunters whom
I had sent forward for game. They had fared even worse than ourselves.
Four of the seven days they had been absent from the company, and had
been without food. Many of the streams, too, that were forded easily
by us, were, when they passed, wide and angry floods. These they were
obliged to swim, to the great danger of their lives.
On the 18th, however, they overtook Messrs. Walworth and Alvarez's
teams,[43] {57} and were treated with great hospitality by those
gentlemen. On the same day they killed a buffalo bull, pulled off
the flesh from the back, and commenced drying it over a slow fire
preparatory to packing. On the morning of the 19th, two of them started
off for us with some strips of meat dangling over the shoulders of
their horses. They met us about four o'clock, and with us returned to
the place of drying the meat. Our horses were turned loose to eat the
dry grass, while we feasted ourselves upon roasted tongue and liver.
After this we "caught up" and went on with the intention of encamping
with the Santa Féäns; after travelling briskly onward for two hours, we
came upon the brow of a hill that overlooks the valley of Pawnee Fork,
the largest branch of the Arkansas on its northern side. The Santa
Fé traders had encamped on the east bank of the stream. The waggons
surrounded an oval piece of ground, their shafts or tongues outside,
and the forward wheel of each abreast of the hind wheel of the one
before it. This arrangement gave them a fine aspect, when viewed from
the hill, over which we were passing.
But we had scarcely time to see the {58} little I described, when a
terrific scream of "Pawnee! Pawnee!" arose from a thousand tongues
on the farther bank of the river; and Indian women and children ran
and shrieked horribly, "Pawnee! Pawnee!" as they sought the glens and
bushes of the neighbourhood. We were puzzled to know the object of
such an outburst of savage delight, as we deemed it to be, and for a
time thought that we might well expect our blood to slumber with the
buffalo, whose bones lay bleaching around us. The camp of the traders
also was in motion; arms were seized and horses saddled with "hot
haste." A moment more, and two whites were galloping warily near us;
a moment more brought twenty savage warriors in full paint and plume
around us. A quick reconnoitre, and the principal chief rode briskly
up to me, shook me warmly by the hand, and with a clearly apparent
friendship said "Sacre fœdus" (holy league,) "Kauzaus," "Caw." His
warriors followed his example. As soon as our friendly greetings were
discovered by some of the minor chiefs, they galloped their fleet
horses at full speed over the river, and the women and children issued
from their concealments, and lined the bank with their dusky forms. The
chiefs rode {59} with us to our camping ground, and remained till dark,
examining with great interest the various articles of our travelling
equipage; and particularly our tent as it unfolded its broadsides like
magic, and assumed the form of a solid white cone. Every arrangement
being made to prevent these accomplished thieves from stealing our
horses, &c., we supped, and went to make calls upon our neighbours.
The owners of the Santa Fé waggons were men who had seen much of life.
Urbane and hospitable, they received us in the kindest manner, and
gave us much information in regard to the mountains, the best mode of
defence, &c., that proved in our experience remarkably correct. During
the afternoon, the chiefs of the Kauzaus sent me a number of buffalo
tongues, and other choice bits of meat. But the filth discoverable on
their persons generally deterred us from using them. For this they
cared little. If their presents were accepted, an obligation was by
their laws incurred on our part, from which we could only be relieved
by presents in return. To this rule of Indian etiquette we submitted;
and a council was accordingly held between myself and the principal
chief through an interpreter, {60} to determine upon the amount and
quality of my indebtedness in this regard. The final arrangement was,
that in consideration of the small amount of property I had then in
possession, I would give him two pounds of tobacco, a side-knife, and
a few papers of vermillion; but that, on my return, which would be in
fourteen months, I should be very rich, and give him more. To all these
obligations and pleasant prophecies, I of course gave my most hearty
concurrence.
The Caws, or Kauzaus, are notorious thieves. We therefore put out
a double guard at night, to watch their predatory operations, with
instructions to fire upon them, if they attempted to take our animals.
Neither guard nor instructions, however, proved of use; for the
tempest, which the experienced old Santa Féäns had seen in the heavens,
thunder-cloud in the north-west at sunset, proved a more efficient
protection than the arm of man. The cloud rose slowly during the early
part of the night, and appeared to hang in suspense of executing its
awful purpose. The lightning and heavy rumbling of the thunder were
frightful. It came to the zenith about twelve o'clock. When in that
position, the cloud covered one-half the heavens, and for {61} some
minutes was nearly stationary. After this, the wind broke forth upon
it at the horizon, and rolled up the dark masses over our heads--now
swelling, now rending to shreds its immense folds. But as yet not a
breath of air moved over the plains. The animals stood motionless and
silent at the spectacle. The nucleus of electricity was at the zenith,
and thence large bolts at last leaped in every direction, and lighted
for an instant the earth and skies so intensely, that the eye could not
endure the brightness. The report which followed was appalling. The
ground trembled--the horses and mules shook with fear, and attempted
to escape. But where could they or ourselves have found shelter? The
clouds at the next moment appeared in the wildest commotion, struggling
with the wind. "Where shall we fly?" could scarcely have been spoken,
before the wind struck our tent, tore the stakes from the ground,
snapped the centre pole, and buried us in its enraged folds. Every man,
we were thirteen in number, immediately seized some portion and held it
with all his might. Our opinion at the time was, that the absence of
the weight of a single man would have given the storm the victory--our
tent would have eloped in the {62} iron embraces of the tempest. We
attempted to fit it up again after the violence of the storm had in
some degree passed over, but were unable so to do. The remainder of the
night was consequently spent in gathering up our loose animals, and in
shivering under the cold peltings of the rain.
The Santa Féäns, when on march through these plains, are in constant
expectation of these tornadoes. Accordingly, when the sky at night
indicates their approach, they chain the wheels of adjacent waggons
strongly together to prevent them from being upset--an accident that
has often happened, when this precaution was not taken. It may well
be conceived, too, that to prevent their goods from being wet in
such cases, requires a covering of no ordinary powers of protection.
Bows in the usual form, except that they are higher, are raised over
long sunken Pennsylvania waggons, over which are spread two or three
thicknesses of woollen blankets; and over these, and extended to the
lower edge of the body, is drawn a strong canvas covering, well guarded
with cords and leather straps. Through this covering these tempests
seldom penetrate.
At seven o'clock on the morning of the 27th, "Catch up, catch up," rang
round {63} the waggons of the Santa Féäns. Immediately each man had his
hand upon a horse or mule; and ere we, in attempting to follow their
example, had our horses by the halter, the teams were harnessed and
ready for the "march." A noble sight those teams were, about forty in
number, their immense waggons still unmoved, forming an oval breastwork
of wealth, girded by an impatient mass of near four hundred mules,
harnessed and ready to move again along their solitary way. But the
interest of the scene was much increased when, at the call of the
commander, the two lines, team after team, straightened themselves into
the trail, and rode majestically away over the undulating plain. We
crossed the Pawnee Fork,[44] and visited the Caw Camp. Their wigwams
were constructed of bushes inserted into the ground, twisted together
at the top, and covered with the buffalo hides which they had been
gathering for their winter lodges. Meat was drying in every direction.
It had been cut in long narrow strips, wound around sticks standing
upright in the ground, or laid over a rick of wicker-work, under which
slow fires are kept burning. The stench, and the squalid appearance
of the women and children, {64} were not sufficiently interesting
to detain us long; and we travelled on for the buffalo which were
bellowing over the hills in advance of us. There appeared to be about
one thousand five hundred souls, almost in a state of nudity, and
filthy as swine. They make a yearly hunt to this region in the spring,
lay in a large quantity of dried meat, return to their own territory
in harvest time, gather their beans and corn, make the buffalo hides,
(taken before the hair is long enough for robes), into conical tents,
and thus prepare for a long and merry winter.
They take with them, on these hunting excursions, all the horses and
mules belonging to the tribe, which can be spared from the labour
of their fields upon the Konzas River, go south till they meet the
buffalo, build their distant wigwams, and commence their labour. This
is divided in the following manner between the males, females, and
children:--The men kill the game. The women dress and dry the meat, and
tan the hides. The instruments used in killing vary with the rank and
wealth of each individual. The high chief has a lance, with a handle
six feet and blade three feet in length. This in hand, mounted {65}
upon a fleet horse, he rides boldly to the side of the flying buffalo,
and thrusts it again and again through the liver or heart of one, and
then another of the affrighted herd till his horse is no longer able to
keep near them. He is thus able to kill five or six, more or less, at
a single hit. Some of the inferior chiefs also have these lances; but
they must all be shorter than that of his Royal Darkness. The common
Indians use muskets and pistols. Rifles are an abomination to them.
The twisting motion of the ball as it enters, the sharp crack when
discharged, and the direful singing of the lead as it cuts the air,
are considered symptoms of witchcraft that are unsafe for the Red Man
to meddle with. They call them medicines--inscrutable and irresistible
sources of evil. The poorer classes still use the bow and arrow. Nor is
this, in the well-trained hand of the Indian, a less effective weapon
than those already mentioned. Astride a good horse, beside a bellowing
band of wild beef, leaning forward upon the neck, and drawing his limbs
close to the sides of his horse, the naked hunter uses his national
weapon with astonishing dexterity and success. Not unfrequently, when
hitting no bones, does he throw his arrows quite through the buffalo.
Twenty {66} or thirty thus variously armed, advance upon a herd. The
chief leads the chase, and by the time they come alongside the band,
the different speed of the horses has brought them into a single file
or line. Thus they run until every individual has a buffalo at his
side. Then the whole line fire guns, throw arrows or drive lances, as
often and as long as the speed of the horses will allow; and seldom
do they fail in encounters of this kind, to lay upon the dusty plain
numbers of these noble animals.
A cloud of squaws who had been hovering in the neighbourhood, now
hurry up, astride of pack-animals, strip off hides, cut off the best
flesh, load their pack saddles, mount themselves on the top, and move
slowly away to the camp. The lords of creation have finished their
day's labour. The _ladies_ cure the meat in the manner described above,
stretch the hides upon the ground, and with a blunt wooden adze hew
them into leather. The younger shoots of the tribe during the day are
engaged in watering and guarding the horses and mules that have been
used in the hunt--changing their stakes from one spot to another of
fresh grass, and crouching along the heights around the camp to notice
the approach of {67} foes, and sound the alarm. Thus the Konzas,
Kausaus, or Caws, lay in their annual stores. Unless driven from their
game by the Pawnees, or some other tribe at enmity with them, they
load every animal with meat and hides about the first of August, and
commence the march back to their fields, fathers, and wigwams, on the
Konzas River.
This return-march must present a most interesting scene in savage
life--seven hundred or eight hundred horses or mules loaded with the
spoils of the chase, and the children of the tribe holding on to the
pack with might and main, naked as eels, and shining with buffalo
grease, their fathers and mothers loafing on foot behind, with their
guns poised on the left arm, or their bows and arrows swung at their
back ready for action, and turning their heads rapidly and anxiously
for lurking enemies--the attack, the screams of women and children,
each man seizing an animal for a breastwork, and surrounding thus their
wives and children, the firing, the dying, the conquest, the whoop of
victory and rejoicings of one party, and the dogged, sullen submission
of the other--all this and more has occurred a thousand times upon {68}
these plains, and is still occurring. But if victory declare for the
Caws, or they march to their home without molestation, how many warm
affections spring up in their untamed bosoms, as they see again their
parents and children, and the ripened harvest, the woods, the streams,
and bubbling springs, among which the gleeful days of childhood were
spent! And when greetings are over, and welcomes are said, embraces
exchanged, and their homes seen and smiled upon; in fine, when all the
holy feelings of remembrance, and their present good fortune, find
vent in the wild night-dance, who, that wears a white skin and ponders
upon the better lot of civilized men, will not believe that the Indian
too, returned from the hunt and from war, has not as much happiness,
if not in kind the same, and as many sentiments that do honour to our
nature, as are wrapped in the stays and tights of a fantastic, mawkish
civilization--that flattering, pluming, gormandizing, unthinking,
gilded life, which is beginning to measure mental and moral worth by
the amount of wealth possessed, and the adornment of a slip or pew in
church.
We travelled eight miles and encamped. {69} A band of buffalo cows
were near us. In other words, we were determined upon a hunt--a
determination the consequences of which, as will hereafter appear were
highly disastrous. Our tent having been pitched, and baggage piled up,
the fleetest horses selected, and the best marksmen best mounted, we
trotted slowly along a circling depression of the plain, that wound
around near the herd on the leeward side. When we emerged in sight of
them, we put the horses into a slow gallop till within three hundred
yards of our game; and then for the nimblest heel! Each was at his
utmost speed. We all gained upon the herd. But two of the horses were
by the side of the lubbers before the rest were within rifle-reach;
and the rifles and pistols of their riders discharged into the sleek,
well-larded body of a noble bull. The wounded animal did not drop; the
balls had entered neither liver nor heart; and away he ran for his
life. But his unwieldy form moved slower and slower, as the dripping
blood oozed from the bullet-holes in his loins. He ran towards our
tent; and we followed him in that direction, till within a fourth
of a mile of it, when our heroes of the rifle laid him wallowing in
his blood, a mountain of flesh {70} weighing at least three thousand
pounds. We butchered him in the following manner: Having turned him
upon his brisket, split the skin above the spine, and pared it off as
far down the sides as his position would allow, we cut off the flesh
that lay outside the ribs as far back as the loins. This the hunters
call "the fleece." We next took the ribs that rise perpendicularly from
the spine between the shoulders, and support what is termed the "hump."
Then we laid our heavy wood-axes upon the enormous side-ribs, opened a
cavity, and took out the tender-loins, tallow, &c.,--all this a load
for two mules to carry into camp.
It was prepared for packing as follows: the fleece was cut across the
grain into slices an eighth of an inch in thickness, and spread upon
a scaffolding of poles, and dried and smoked over a slow fire. While
we were engaged in this process, information came that three of Mr.
Bent's mules had escaped. The probability was that they had gone to the
guardianship of our neighbours, the Caws. This was a misfortune to our
honourable intention of restoring them to their lawful owners. Search
was immediately ordered in the Indian camp and elsewhere for them. It
was {71} fruitless. The men returned with no very favourable account of
their reception by the Caws, and were of opinion that farther search
would be in vain. Being disposed to try my influence with the principal
chief, I gave orders to raise the camp and follow the Santa Féans,
without reference to my return, and mounting my horse, in company with
three men, sought his lodge. The wigwams were deserted, save by a few
old women and squalid children, who were wallowing in dirt and grease,
and regaling themselves upon the roasted intestines of the buffalo. I
inquired for the chiefs, for the mules, whether they themselves were
human or bestial; for, on this point, there was room for doubt: to all
which inquiries, they gave an appropriate grunt. But no chief or other
person could be found, on whom any responsibility could be thrown in
regard to the lost mules. And after climbing the heights to view the
plains, and riding from band to band of His Darkness's quadrupeds for
three hours in vain, we returned to our camp sufficiently vexed for all
purposes of comfort.
Yet this was only the beginning of the misfortunes of the day. During
my absence, one of those petty bickerings, so common {72} among men
released from the restraints of society and law, had arisen between two
of the most quarrelsome of the company, terminating in the accidental
wounding of one of them. It occurred, as I learned in the following
manner: a dispute arose between the parties as to their relative moral
honesty in some matter, thing, or act in the past. And as this was a
question of great perplexity in their own minds, and doubt in those
of others, words ran high and abusive, till some of the men, more
regardful of their duty than these warriors, began preparations to
strike the tent. The redoubtable combatants were within it; and as
the cords were loosed, and its folds began to swing upon the centre
pole, the younger of the braves, filled with wrath at his opponent,
attempted to show how terrible his ire would be if once let loose among
his muscles. For this purpose, it would seem he seized the muzzle of
his rifle with every demonstration of might, &c., and attempted to
drag it from among the baggage. The hammer of the lock caught, and
sent the contents of the barrel into his side. Every thing was done
for the wounded man that his condition required, and our circumstances
permitted. Doctor Walworth, {73} of the Santa Fé caravan, then eight
miles in advance, returned, examined, and dressed the wound, and
furnished a carriage for the invalid. During the afternoon the high
chief of the Caws also visited us; and by introducing discoloured water
into the upper orifice, and watching its progress through, ascertained
that the ball had not entered the cavity. But notwithstanding that
our anxieties about the life of Smith[45] were much lessened by the
assurances of Dr. Walworth, and our friend the Chief, yet we had
others of no less urgent nature, on which we were called to act. We
were on the hunting-ground of the Caws. They were thieves; and after
the Santa Fé traders should have left the neighbourhood, they would
without scruple use their superior force in appropriating to themselves
our animals, and other means of continuing our journey. The Pawnees,
too, were daily expected. The Cumanches were prowling about the
neighbourhood. To remain, therefore, in our present encampment, until
Smith could travel without pain and danger, was deemed certain death
to all. To travel on in a manner as comfortable to the invalid, as our
{74} condition would permit--painful to him and tedious to us though
it should be--appeared therefore the only means of safety to all, or
any of us. We accordingly covered the bottom of the carriole with grass
and blankets, laid Smith upon them, and with other blankets bolstered
him in such manner that the jolting of the carriage would not roll him.
Other arrangements necessary to raising camp being made, I gave the
company in charge of my lieutenant; and ordering him to lead on after
me as fast as possible, took the reins of the carriage and drove slowly
along the trail of the Santa Féäns.
The trail was continually crossed by deep paths made by the buffalo,
as a thousand generations of them had in single file followed their
leaders from point to point through the plains. These, and other
obstructions, jolted the carriage at every step, and caused the wounded
man to groan pitiably. I drove on till the stars indicated the hour of
midnight; and had hoped by this time to have overtaken the traders,
but was disappointed. In vain I looked through the darkness for the
white embankment of their waggons. The soil over which they had passed
was {75} now so hard, that the man in advance of the carriage could no
longer find the trail; and another storm was crowding its dark pall up
the western sky. The thunder aroused and enraged the buffalo bulls.
They pawed the earth and bellowed, and gathered around the carriage
madly, as if they considered it a huge animal of their own species,
uttering thunder in defiance of them. It became dangerous to move. It
was useless also; for the darkness thickened so rapidly that we could
not keep the track. My men, too, had not come up; they had doubtless
lost the trail--or, if not, might join me if I waited there till the
morning. I therefore halted in a deep ravine, which would partially
protect me from the maddened buffalo and the storm, tied down my
animals head to foot, and sought rest. Smith was in great pain. His
groans were sufficient to prevent sleep. But had he been comfortable
and silent, the storm poured such torrents of rain and hail, with
terrible wind and lightning, around us, that life instead of repose
became the object of our solicitude. The horseman who had accompanied
me, had spread his blankets on the ground under the carriage, and, {76}
with his head upon his saddle, attempted to disregard the tempest as
an old-fashioned stoic would the toothache. But it beat too heavy for
his philosophy. His Mackinaw blankets and slouched hat, for a time
protected his ungainly body from the effects of the tumbling flood.
But when the water began to stream through the bottom of the carriage
upon him, the ire of the animal burst from his lank cheeks like the
coming of a rival tempest. He cursed his stars, and the stars behind
the storm, his garters, and the garters of some female progenitor,
consigned to purgatory the thunder, lightning, and rain, and waggon,
alias poor Smith; and gathering up the shambling timbers of his mortal
frame, raised them bolt upright in the storm, and thus stood, quoted
Shakspeare, and ground his teeth till daylight.
As soon as day dawned I found the trail again, and at seven o'clock
overtook the Santa Féäns. Having changed Smith's bedding, I drove on
in the somewhat beaten track that forty odd waggons made. Still every
small jolt caused the unfortunate man to scream with pain. The face
of the country around Pawnee Fork was, when we saw it, {77} a picture
of beauty. The stream winds silently among bluffs covered with woods,
while from an occasional ravine, long groves stretch out at right
angles with its main course into the bosom of the plains. The thousand
hills that swelled on the horizon, were covered with dark masses of
buffalo peacefully grazing, or quenching their thirst at the sweet
streams among them. But the scene had now changed. No timber, not a
shrub was seen to-day. The soft rich soil had given place to one of
flint and sand, as hard as M'Adam's pavements; the green, tall prairie
grass, to a dry, wiry species, two inches in height. The water, too,
disgusting remembrance! There was none, save what we scooped from the
puddles, thick and yellow with buffalo offal.
We travelled fifteen miles, and halted for the night. Smith was
extremely unwell. His wound was much inflamed and painful. Dr. Walworth
dressed it, and encouraged me to suppose that no danger of life was to
be apprehended. My company joined me at twelve o'clock, on the 22nd,
and we followed in the rear of the cavalcade. After supper was over,
and Smith made comfortable, {78} I sought from some of them a relation
of their fortunes during the past night. It appeared they had found
the buffalo troublesome as soon as night came on; that the bands of
bulls not unfrequently advanced in great numbers within a few feet
of them, pawing and bellowing in the most threatening manner; that
they also lost the trail after midnight, and spent the remainder of
the night in firing upon the buffalo, to keep them from running over
them. Their situation was dangerous in the extreme; for when buffalo
become enraged, or frightened in any considerable number, and commence
running, the whole herd start simultaneously, and pursue nearly a
right-line course, regardless of obstacles. So that, had they been
frightened by the Santa Féäns, or myself, or any other cause, in the
direction of my companions, they must have trampled them to death. The
danger to be apprehended from such an event, was rendered certain in
the morning, when we perceived that the whole circle of vision was one
black mass of these animals. What a sea of life--of muscular power--of
animal appetite--of bestial enjoyment! And if lashed to rage by some
pervading cause, how fearful {79} the ebbing and flowing of its mighty
wrath!
On the 23rd the buffalo were more numerous than ever. They were
arranged in long lines from the eastern to the western horizon. The
bulls were forty or fifty yards in advance of the bands of cows to
which they severally intended to give protection. And as the moving
embankment of waggons, led by the advanced guard, and flanked by
horsemen riding slowly from front to rear, and guarded in the rear by
my men, made its majestic way along, these fiery cavaliers would march
each to his own band of dames and misses, with an air that seemed to
say "we are here;" and then back again to their lines, with great
apparent satisfaction, that they were able to do battle for their sweet
ones and their native plains. We travelled fifteen or sixteen miles;
distance usually made in a day by the traders. Smith's wound was more
inflamed and painful; the wash and salve of the Indian chief, however,
kept it soft, and prevented to a great extent the natural inflammation
of the case.
The face of the country was still an arid plain--the water as on the
22nd--fuel, dried {80} buffalo offal--not a shrub of any kind in sight.
Another storm occurred to-night. Its movements were more rapid than
that of any preceding one which we had experienced. In a few moments
after it showed its dark outline above the earth, it rolled its pall
over the whole sky, as if to build a wall of wrath between us and the
mercies of heaven. The flash of the lightning, as it bounded upon the
firmament, and mingled its thunder with the blast, that came groaning
down from the mountains; the masses of inky darkness crowding in wild
tumult along, as if anxious to lead the leaping bolt upon us--the wild
world of buffalo, bellowing and starting in myriads, as the drapery of
this funeral scene of nature, a vast cavern of fire was lighted up; the
rain roaring and foaming like a cataract--all this, a reeling world
tottering under the great arm of its Maker, no eye could see and be
unblenched; no mind conceive, and keep its clayey tenement erect.
I drew the carriole in which Smith and myself were attempting to sleep,
close to the Santa Fé waggons, secured the curtains as firmly as I was
able to do, spread blankets over the top and around the sides, and
{81} lashed them firmly with ropes passing over, under, and around the
carriage in every direction; but to little use. The penetrating powers
of that storm were not resisted by such means. Again we were thoroughly
drenched. The men in the tent fared still worse than ourselves. It was
blown down with the first blast; and the poor fellows were obliged to
lie closely and hold on strongly to prevent it and themselves from a
flight less safe than parachuting.
On the morning of the 24th, having given Smith in charge of my
excellent Lieutenant, with assurance that I would join him at the
"Crossings," I left them with the traders, and started with the
remainder of my company for the Arkansas.
The buffalo during the last three days had covered the whole country so
completely, that it appeared oftentimes extremely dangerous even for
the immense cavalcade of the Santa Fé traders to attempt to break its
way through them. We travelled at the rate of fifteen miles a day. The
length of sight on either side of the trail, 15 miles; on both sides,
30 miles:--15×3=45×30=1,350 square miles of {82} country, so thickly
covered with these noble animals, that when viewed from a height, it
scarcely afforded a sight of a square league of its surface. What a
quantity of food for the sustenance of the Indian and the white pilgrim
of these plains! It would have been gratifying to have seen the beam
kick over the immense frames of some of those bulls. But all that any
of us could do, was to 'guess' or 'reckon' their weight, and contend
about the indubitable certainty of our several suppositions. In these
disputes, two butchers took the lead; and the substance of their
discussions that could interest the reader is, "that many of the large
bulls would weigh 3,000 pounds and upwards; and that, as a general
rule, the buffalo were much larger and heavier than the domesticated
cattle of the States." We were in view of the Arkansas at four o'clock,
P. M. The face of the earth was visible again; for the buffalo were
now seen in small herds only, fording the river, or feeding upon the
bluffs. Near nightfall we killed a young bull, and went into camp for
the night.
On the 25th we moved slowly along up the bank of the river. Having
travelled {83} ten miles, one of the men shot an antelope, and we went
into camp, to avoid if possible another storm that was lowering upon
us from the north-west; but in spite of this precaution, we were again
most uncomfortably drenched.
On the 26th we struck across a southern bend in the river, and
made the Santa Fé "Crossings" at four o'clock, P. M.; 27th. we lay
at the "Crossings," waiting for the Santa Féäns, and our wounded
companion.[46] On this day a mutiny, which had been ripening ever
since Smith was wounded, assumed a clear aspect. It now appeared that
certain individuals of my company had determined to leave Smith to
perish in the encampment where he was shot; but failing in supporters
of so barbarous a proposition, they now endeavoured to accomplish
their design by less objectionable means. They said it was evident, if
Smith remained in the company, it must be divided; for that they, pure
creatures, could no longer associate with so impure a man. And that,
in order to preserve the unity of the company, they would propose that
arrangements should be made with the Santa Féäns to take him along
with them. {84} In this wish a majority of the company, induced by a
laudable desire for peace, and the preservation of our small force
entire, in a country filled with Indian foes, readily united. I was
desired to make the arrangement; but my efforts proved fruitless. The
traders were of the opinion that it would be hazardous for Smith,
destitute of the means of support, to trust himself among a people of
whose language he was ignorant, and among whom he could consequently
get no employment; farther, that Smith had a right to expect protection
from his comrades; and they would not, by any act of theirs, relieve
them from so sacred a duty. I reported to my company this reply, and
dwelt at length upon the reasons assigned by the traders.
The mutineers were highly displeased with the strong condemnation
contained in them, of their intention to desert him; and boldly
proposed to leave Smith in the carriole, and secretly depart for the
mountains. Had we done this inhuman act, I have no doubt that he would
have been treated with great humanity and kindness, till he should have
recovered from his wound. But the meanness of the proposition to leave
a sick companion {85} on the hands of those who had shown us unbounded
kindness, and in violation of the solemn agreement we had all entered
into on the frontier of Missouri--"to protect each other to the last
extremity"--was so manifest, as to cause C. Wood, Jourdan, Oakley,
J. Wood, and Blair, to take open and strong grounds against it. They
declared, that "however unworthy Smith might be, we could neither leave
him to be eaten by wolves, nor to the mercy of strangers; and that
neither should be done while they had life to prevent it."
Having thus ascertained that I could rely upon the cooperation of
these men, two of the company made a litter, on which the unfortunate
man might be borne between two mules. In the afternoon of the 28th, I
went down to the traders, five miles below us, to bring him up to my
camp. The traders generously refused to receive anything for the use
of their carriage, and furnished Smith, when he left them, with every
little comfort in their power for his future use. It was past sunset
when we left their camp. Deep darkness soon set in, and we lost our
course among the winding bluffs. {86} But as I had reason to suppose
that my presence in the camp the next morning with Smith was necessary
to his welfare, I drove on till three o'clock in the morning. It was
of no avail: the darkness hid heaven and earth from view. We therefore
halted, tied the mules to the wheels of the carriage, and waited for
the sight of morning. When it came, we found that we had travelled
during the night at one time up and at another time down the stream,
and were then within a mile and a half of the trader's camp.
On reaching my encampment, I found every thing ready for marching,
sent back the carriole to its owners, and attempted to swing Smith in
his litter for the march; but to our great disappointment, it would
not answer the purpose. How it was possible to convey him, appeared
an inquiry of the most painful importance. We deliberated long; but
an impossibility barred every attempt to remove its difficulties. We
had no carriage; we could not carry him upon our shoulders; it seemed
impossible for him to ride on horseback; the mutineers were mounted;
the company was afraid to stay longer in the vicinity of the Cumanche
Indians, {87} with so many animals to tempt them to take our lives; the
Santa Fé waggons were moving over the hills ten miles away on the other
side of the river; I had adjured the command, and had no control over
the movements of the company; two of the individuals who had declared
for mercy towards Smith had gone with the traders;[47] there was but
one course left--one effort that could be made; he must attempt to ride
an easy, gentle mule. If that failed, those who had befriended him
would not then forsake him.
About eleven o'clock, therefore, on the 29th, Smith being carefully
mounted on a pacing mule, our faces were turned to Bent's trading post,
one hundred and sixty miles up the Arkansas. One of the principal
mutineers, a hard-faced villain of no honest memory among the traders
upon the Platte, assumed to guide and command. His malice towards Smith
was of the bitterest character, and he had an opportunity now of making
it felt. With a grin upon his long and withered physiognomy, that
shadowed out the fiendish delight of a heart long incapable of better
emotions, he drove off at a rate which none but a man in health could
have long endured. His motive {88} for this was easily understood. If
we fell behind, he would get rid of the wounded man, whose presence
seemed to be a living evidence of his murderous intentions, thwarted
and cast back blistering upon his already sufficiently foul character.
He would, also, if rid of those persons who had devoted themselves to
saving him, be able to induce a large number of the remainder of the
company to put themselves under his especial guardianship in their
journey through the mountains; and if we should be destroyed by the
Cumanche Indians who were prowling around our way, the blackness of his
heart might be hidden, awhile at least, from the world.
The rapid riding, and the extreme warmth, well-nigh prostrated the
remaining strength of the invalid. He fainted once, and had nearly
fallen headlong to the ground; but all this was delight to the
self-constituted leader; and on he drove, belabouring his own horse
unmercifully to keep up the pace; and quoting Richard's soliloquy with
a satisfaction and emphasis, which seemed to say "the winter" of _his_
discontent had passed away, as well as that of his ancient prototype in
villany.
{89} The buffalo were seldom seen during the day: the herds now
becoming fewer and smaller. Some of the men, when it was near night,
gave chase to a small band near the track, and succeeded in killing a
young bull. A fine fresh steak, and night's rest, cheered the invalid
for the fatigues of a long ride the following day. And a long one it
was. Twenty-five miles under a burning sun, with a high fever, and
three broken ribs, required the greatest attention from his friends,
and the exertion of the utmost remaining energies of the unfortunate
man. Base though he was in everything that makes a man estimable and
valuable to himself and others, Smith was really an object of pity and
the most assiduous care. His couch was spread--his cup of water fresh
from the stream, was always by his side--and his food prepared in the
most palatable manner which our circumstances permitted. Everything
indeed that his friends (no, not his friends, for he was incapacitated
to attach either the good or the bad to his person, but those who
commiserated his condition), could do, was done to make him comfortable.
In connexion with this kindness bestowed {90} on Smith, should be
repeated the name of Blair, an old mechanic from Missouri, who joined
my company at the Crossings of the Arkansas. A man of a kinder heart
never existed. From the place where he joined us to Oregon Territory,
when I or others were worn with fatigue, or disease, or starvation, he
was always ready to administer whatever relief was in his power. But
towards Smith in his helpless condition he was especially obliging. He
dressed his wound daily. He slept near him at night, and rose to supply
his least want. And in all the trying difficulties that occurred along
our perilous journey, it was his greatest delight to diffuse peace,
comfort, and contentment, to the extent of his influence. I can never
forget the good old man. He had been cheated out of his property by a
near relative of pretended piety, and had left the chosen scenes of
his toils and hopes in search of a residence in the wilderness beyond
the mountains. For the purpose of getting to the Oregon Territory,
he had hired himself to a gentleman of the traders' caravan, with
the intention of going to the country by the way of New Mexico and
California. An honest man--an honourable {91} man--a benevolent, kind,
sympathizing friend--he deserves well of those who may have the good
fortune to become acquainted with his unpretending worth.[48]
On the 30th, twenty-five miles up the river.--This morning the
miscreant who acted as leader exchanged horses, that he might render it
more difficult for Smith to keep in company. During the entire day's
march, Shakspeare was on the tapis. If there be ears of him about the
ugly world, to hear his name bandied by boobies, and his immortal verse
mangled by barbarians in civilized clothing, those ears stood erect,
and his dust crawled with indignation, as this savage in nature and
practice discharged from his polluted mouth the inspirations of his
genius.
The face of the country was such as that found ever since we struck
the river. Long sweeping bluffs swelled away from the water's edge
into the boundless plains. The soil was a composition of sand, clay,
and gravel--the only vegetation--the short furzy grass, several kinds
of prickly pear, a stinted growth of sun-flower, and a few decrepid
cotton-wood trees on the margin of the stream. The south side of the
river {92} was blackened by the noisy buffalo. It was amusing when our
trail led us near the bank, to observe the rising wrath of the bulls.
They would walk with a stately tread upon the verge of the bank, at
times almost yelling out their rage, and trampling, pawing, falling
upon their knees, and tearing the earth with their horns; till, as if
unable to keep down the safety-valve of their courage any longer, they
would tumble into the stream, and thunder, and wade, and swim, and whip
the waters with their tails, and thus throw off a quantity of their
bravery. But, like the wrath and courage of certain members of the
biped race, these manifestations were not bullet proof, for the crack
of a rifle, and the snug fit of a bullet about their ribs operated
instantaneously as an anodyne to all such like nervous excitation.
We pitched our tent at night near the river. There was no timber near;
but after a long and tedious search we gathered fire-wood enough to
make our evening fire.
The fast riding of the day had wearied Smith exceedingly. An hour's
rest in camp however, had restored him, to such an extent, {93} that
our anxiety as to his ability to ride to Bent's was much diminished.
His noble mule proved too nimble and easy to gratify the malice of the
vagabond leader. The night brought us its usual tribute--a storm. It
was as severe as any we had experienced. If we may distinguish between
the severities of these awful tumults of nature, the thunder was
heavier, deeper. The wind also was very severe. It came in long gusts,
loaded with large drops of rain, which struck through the canvas of our
tent, as if it had been gauze.
The last day of June gave us a lovely morning. The grass looked green
upon the flinty plains. Nor did the apparent fact that they were
doomed to the constant recurrence of long draughts take from them some
of the interest which gathers around the hills and dales within the
lines of the States. There is indeed a wide difference in the outline
of the surface and the productions of these regions. In the plains
are none of the evergreen ridges, the cold clear springs, and snug
flowering valleys of New England; none of the pulse of busy men that
beats from the Atlantic through the great body of human industry to
the western border of the {94} republic; none of the sweet villages
and homes of the old Saxon race; but there are the vast savannahs,
resembling molten seas of emerald sparkling with flowers, arrested
while stormy and heaving, and fixed in eternal repose. Nor are lowing
herds to be found there, and bleating flocks, which dependance on man
has rendered subservient to his will; but there are thousands of fleet
and silent antelope, myriads of the bellowing buffalo, the perpetual
patrimony of the wild, uncultivated red man. And however other races
may prefer the haunts of their childhood, the well-fenced domain and
the stall-pampered beast--still, even they cannot fail to perceive the
same fitness of things in the beautiful adaptation of these conditions
of nature to the wants and pleasures of her uncultivated lords.
We made fifteen miles on the 1st of July. The bluffs along the river
began now to be striped with strata of lime and sand-stone. No trees
that could claim the denomination of timber appeared in sight. Willows
of various kinds, a cotton-wood tree, at intervals of miles, were all;
and so utterly sterile was the whole country that, as night approached,
we were obliged carefully to search along {95} the river's bends for a
plat of grass of sufficient size to feed our animals. Our encampment
was twelve miles above Choteau's Island.[49] Here was repeated, for
the twentieth time, the quarrel about the relative and moral merits
of the company. This was always a question of deep interest with the
mutineers; and many were the amusing arguments adduced and insisted
upon as incontestible, to prove themselves great men, pure men, and
saints. But as there was much difference of opinion, I shall not be
expected to remember all the important judgments rendered in the
premises.
If, however, my recollection serves me, it was adjudged, that our
distinguished leader was the only man among us that ever saw the
plains or mountains, the only one of us that ever drove an ox-waggon
up the Platte, stole a horse and rifle from his employers, opened
and plundered a "cache" of goods, and ran back to the States with
well-founded pretensions to an "honest character."
Matters of this kind being thus satisfactorily settled, we gave
ourselves to the musquitoes for the night. These companions of our
sleeping hours were much attached to us--an amiable quality which {96}
"runs in the blood;" and not unlike the birthright virtues of another
race in its effect upon our happiness.
It can scarcely be imparting information to my readers to say that
we passed a sleepless night. But it is due to the guards outside the
tent, to remark, that each and every one of them manifested the most
praiseworthy vigilance, and industry, during the entire night. So keen
a sense of duty did musquito beaks impart.
The next day we travelled twelve miles, and fell in with a band of
buffalo. There being a quantity of wood near at hand wherewithal to
cure meat, we determined to dry, in this place, what might be needed,
till we should fall in with buffalo again beyond the hunting-grounds of
the Messrs. Bents. Some of the men, for this purpose, filed off to the
game, while the remainder formed the encampment. The chase was spirited
and long. They succeeded, however, in bringing down two noble bullocks:
and led their horses in, loaded with the choicest meat.
In preparing and jerking our meat, our man of the stolen rifle here
assumed extraordinary powers in the management of {97} affairs. Like
other braves, arm in hand, he recounted the exploits of his past life,
consisting of the entertainment of serious _intentions_ to have killed
some of the men who had left, had they remained with us; and also,
of _how dangerous his wrath would have been_ in the settlements and
elsewhere, had any indignity been offered to his honourable person,
or his plantation; of which latter he held the fee simple title of a
"squatter." On this point, "let any man, or Government even," said he,
"attempt to deprive me of my inborn rights, and my rifle shall be the
judge between us. Government and laws! what are they but impositions
upon the freeman." With this ebullition of wrath at the possibility
that the institutions of society might demand of him a rifle, or the
Government a price of a portion of the public lands in his possession,
he appeared satisfied that he had convinced us of his moral acumen, and
sat himself down, with his well-fed and corpulent coadjutor, to slice
the meat for drying. While thus engaged, he again raised the voice of
wisdom. "These democratic parties for the plains, what are they? what
is equality any where? A fudge. One must {98} rule; the rest obey, and
no grumbling, by G----!"
The mutineers were vastly edified by these timely instructions; and
the man of parts ceasing to speak, directed his attention to drying
the meat. He, however, soon broke forth again, found fault with every
arrangement which had been made, and with his own mighty arm wrought
the changes he desired.
Meanwhile, he was rousing the fire, already burning fiercely, to more
and more activity, till the dropping grease blazed, and our scaffold of
meat was wrapped in flames.
"Take that meat off," roared he. No one obeyed, and he stood still.
"Take that meat off," he cried again, with the emphasis and mien of
an Emperor; not deigning himself to soil his rags, by obeying his own
command. No one obeyed. The meat burned rapidly. His ire waxed high;
yet, no one was so much frightened as to heed his command. At length
his sublime forbearance had an end. The great man seized the blazing
meat, dashed it upon the ground, raised the temperature of his fingers
to the blistering point, and rested from his labours.
{99} Three days more fatiguing travel along the bank of the Arkansas
brought us to the trading-post of the Messrs. Bents. It was about two
o'clock in the afternoon of the 5th of July, when we came in sight
of its noble battlements, and struck our caravan into a lively pace
down the swell of the neighbouring plain. The stray mules that we had
in charge belonging to the Bents, scented their old grazing ground,
and galloped cheerfully onward. And our hearts, relieved from the
anxieties which had made our camp for weeks past a travelling Babel,
leaped for joy as the gates of the fort were thrown open; and "welcome
to Fort William"--the hearty welcome of fellow-countrymen in the wild
wilderness, greeted us. Peace again--roofs again--safety again from the
winged arrows of the savage; relief again from the depraved suggestions
of inhumanity; bread, ah! bread again: and a prospect of a delightful
tramp over the snowy heights between me and Oregon, with a few men of
true and generous spirit, were some of the many sources of pleasure
which struggled with my slumbers on the first night's tarry among the
hospitalities of "Fort William."[50]
{100} My company was to disband here; the property held in common to
be divided; and each individual to be left to his own resources. And
while these and other things are being done, the reader will allow me
to introduce him to the Great Prairie Wilderness, and the beings and
matters therein contained.
FOOTNOTES:
[38] Turkey Creek, for which see our volume xix, p. 205, note 44.--ED.
[39] Silas Bent of St. Louis (1768-1827), judge of the superior court
of the territory and prominent at the bar, had seven sons. The third,
John (1803-45), remained in St. Louis, was admitted to the bar, and
held the office of district attorney. The others went out upon the
frontier. In 1826 William W., Charles, Robert, and George formed a
partnership with Ceran St. Vrain and built a picket fort high up on
the Arkansas. The following year they removed somewhat farther east,
and built an adobe. William W. Bent was the chief founder of the
enterprise. A daring Indian fighter, tradition describes his defeat of
two hundred savages after a three days' battle. He married a Cheyenne
woman, and made his home at Bent's Fort. In 1847-48 he acted as guide
for the American army against New Mexico, whence his title of colonel.
For one year (1859) he served as Indian agent, and died at his home in
Colorado, May 19, 1869. Robert and George both died young, about the
year 1841. They were buried near the fort, their remains afterwards
being removed to St. Louis. For Charles Bent, who made his home at
Taos, see our volume xix, p. 221, note 55.--ED.
[40] Concerning the crossing of the Little Arkansas, consult our volume
xix, p. 207, note 45.--ED.
[41] The trail reached the Arkansas in the neighborhood of the northern
reach of the Great Bend; but Farnham's party must have wandered from
the regular route, in order to employ three days and a half from
the crossing of the Little Arkansas--a distance of not more than
thirty-five miles.--ED.
[42] Either Walnut or Ash Creek, the only two tributaries before
reaching Pawnee Fork. Farnham seems, however, to have written from
memory, and possibly confuses this stream with Turkey Creek, an
affluent of the Little Arkansas. See _ante_, p. 70, note 34.--ED.
[43] For Manuel Alvarez see our volume xx, p. 26, note 5.--ED.
[44] For Pawnee Fork see our volume xvi, p. 227, note 105.--ED.
[45] Sidney W. Smith, who afterwards reached Oregon in a destitute
condition, was cared for at Dr. Whitman's mission, and went on to the
Willamette where he settled with Ewing Young. He acquired considerable
property, and was influential in the establishment of the provisional
government, serving as its secretary, as captain of militia, and on
the first provisional committee. He acquired the name of "Blubbermouth
Smith" among the early pioneers, but became a man of sterling ability
and founder of a prominent Oregon family.--ED.
[46] For the Crossings see our volume xix, p. 218, note 54. The trading
caravans proceeded by the Cimarron route, while Farnham's party took
the mountain trail.--ED.
[47] From the later narrative it is apparent that these were Chauncey
Wood and Quinn Jordan.--ED.
[48] W. Blair was a millwright, and upon reaching Oregon found
employment in Spaulding's mill at the Lapwai mission. Afterwards he
went to the Willamette, and finally emigrated to California, where he
died.--ED.
[49] For Chouteau's Island see our volume xix, p. 185, note 26.--ED.
[50] For a brief history of this post see our volume xx, p. 138, note
92; see also _post_, chapter iv. A cut of the fort may be seen in J.
T. Hughes, _Doniphan's Expedition_ (Cincinnati, 1847), p. 35. Frémont
visited there in 1844 and speaks of the hospitable treatment accorded
him. In the palmy days of the fur-trade the Bents employed from eighty
to a hundred men who made their headquarters at this post.--ED.