SOME CURIOUS CUSTOMS.
The winter had been unusually severe, in several instances snow had
fallen; a thing of rare occurrence in these latitudes. Not having
prepared for such weather, by laying in an unusual supply of provisions,
we were reduced to the verge of starvation, having recourse in our dire
extremity to roots and berries, which we dug from the ground. During one
week, I lived solely on the juice expressed from the cactus leaves,
which I procured by stripping the plant of its thorny excrescences and
paring the leaves with my knife. The juice yielded was thick and gummy,
and of a sweetish taste. This diet could not sustain life for any length
of time. Fortunately I had the good luck to discover some mesquite
berries, that had been secreted by one of the tribe. This discovery
proved my salvation, as without this timely addition of food, I should
certainly have perished.
During this season of hardship, many died of starvation. When a death
occurred, the family of the deceased would yield themselves up to the
most heart-rending grief. Their lamentations would succeed in attracting
a crowd of sympathizing mourners who would join the family, and by
indulging in yells, groans, and screeches, convert the whole scene into
the most hideous travesty, which did violence to all those feelings of
awe and solemnity, that are experienced by viewing the last sad rites of
Christian burial.
When an Indian dies, his body is painted, oiled, and dressed in its best
attire, a fresh buffalo skin (if it is to be had), and failing this, a
blanket is wound tightly around the body, and bound with thongs, then
other blankets are soaked in water until they become very soft and
elastic, when they also are wound around the body with great care and
exactness, so as to exclude the air. This done, the dead warrior's arms
are placed by his side and a liberal supply of food (when the article is
plenty); placed on the scaffold.
These scaffolds are constructed by placing three upright posts in the
ground in the shape of a parallelogram, and connecting them by lateral
bars. Over these bars are placed a number of willow rods, on which the
body rests, in such a position that the feet will be towards the rising
sun. The scaffolds are placed high enough to be out of the reach of dogs
and wolves, yet not so high as to be inaccessible to the family, some
portion of whom visit it daily, bringing food and water, which they
place near the head of the corpse. The spirit is supposed to be in need
of this sustenance on his journey to the happy hunting grounds. Once
there, his spear, bow, and arrows will enable him to kill game in
plenty.
When the scaffolds decay and fall, the relatives collect the bones and
bury them. The skull, which by this time has become perfectly bleached
and purified, is taken and placed among a number of others which form a
circle, the faces turned inward and facing a large shaft, around which
is heaped a quantity of buffalo skulls. In this position they are
preserved for years, the objects of religious veneration. The scaffolds
of the chiefs are distinguished from the others by pieces of red or blue
cloth which are thrown over the bodies.
A party had been dispatched in search of food, and were expected back
hourly. How anxiously we awaited their arrival none may know, who have
not suffered the pangs of hunger. At last they made their appearance,
bringing with them a quantity of berries called by the Indians
oth-to-toa. This berry was pleasanter to taste than the mesquite. The
juice, when extracted and mixed with water, tasted very much like the
orange.
In one of my strolls I had observed some blackbirds, and in the hope of
finding their nests, I was induced to wander to a greater distance from
the village than I had been at any previous time. My search was rewarded
by a quantity of eggs, and filling my Indian shirt with as many as I
could carry, I retraced my steps.
In struggling through the tangled underbrush, I lost my way, and after
wandering about for some time in the hope of finding the path, I came
to a small spring that was bubbling up from a crevice in the rock.
The night had closed in rapidly, and, finding it was too dark to
prosecute my journey further, I concluded to remain here for the
remainder of the night. Gathering a few dried leaves, I soon had a fire
lighted, and then securing enough brush to last me until dawn, I set
about preparing my supper, which was merely roasted eggs. This frugal
meal was soon dispatched, and heaping more wood on the fire, I selected
a dry spot, and stretching my tired limbs, was soon in a sound slumber.
How long I slept I know not, but I was awakened by peals of thunder and
flashes of the most vivid lightning. These sounds were unusual in this
country, as rain rarely fell in these latitudes.
Should a storm of any magnitude pour its waters through the gorge in
which I then was, I felt my position would be perilous in the extreme. I
gathered up my supplies, that were collected at such an expenditure of
labor, and scrambled over rocks and through sand towards the side of the
mountain. I had not gone far when the rain commenced--first in large
drops, and then in a steady patter; before many minutes the storm burst
upon the mountain in all its fury. The rain fell in sheets, and
literally deluged surrounding objects. My resting place was becoming
untenable, and my life was momentarily imperiled by huge masses of
falling rock, which had been loosened from its bed and came tearing
down the mountain side, carrying all before it. Shielding myself behind
trees and boulders, I climbed upwards, in the hope of finding a more
permanent shelter than that afforded by the stumps of trees. The rain
continued to pour down with increasing fury, and anon the vivid flash
quickly followed by the startling roar of the thunder, and the noise of
the seething flood, which by this time was bounding through the canyon,
conspired to make the scene more terrible. Almost despairing, and
thoroughly drenched, I was about yielding myself up to the fury of the
tempest, when my eye fell upon what appeared to be a crevice in the
rock. Hastily making towards it, I entered. The deeper I penetrated the
larger it became, and I found myself at last snugly ensconced within the
recesses of a vast cave.
Congratulating myself on this good fortune, I was about preparing to
resume my rudely interrupted slumber, when I was startled by the sight
of two glaring eyes that were peering at me from the depth of the cave.
Here was a dilemma. I had certainly intruded on some wild animal, and
penetrated its lair. My situation became unpleasant in the extreme. Turn
in whichever direction I might, those fiery eyes followed me, and at
last I found that I was being subjected to the influence of a horrible
fascination.
My unpleasant experience with "old Eph" recurred to me with more force
than pleasure; and the thought that I might have to deal with a
grizzly, made doubly ferocious by being bearded in his den, caused the
cold perspiration to stand out in beads upon my forehead. Suddenly I was
startled by a roar that echoed through the cave. Those piercing eyes
approached nearer. Mad with fright, I rushed to the mouth of the cave,
and began a headlong descent down the steep banks of the cliff. In my
wild scramble I dislodged stones and brush, which came tumbling
precipitately after me, and I also heard another noise which struck
terror to my heart; it was the foot stroke of the infuriated animal that
was pursuing me!
Not knowing whither I was going, but actuated by the sole desire to
escape from this new danger, I very shortly found myself nearing the
swollen river that was bounding through the canyon. There was no
alternative, and, bracing myself for a final effort, I plunged into the
swollen stream and breasted the waves, hoping to reach a rock that
raised its head above the water, about an hundred yards down the stream;
struggle as I might, I felt the rapid current sweeping me on with the
rapidity of an avalanche. Should I reach it or be borne down the
torrent, and be dashed to pieces against some hidden boulder? Nerving
myself for one grand effort, I breasted the current, and, to my joy,
found I was nearing the rock; striking out with the strength of despair
I reach the refuge--the waves dash me against its sides--I clutch at
the jagged ends that project out of the water, and by their aid clamber
out of the reach of immediate danger!
Finding myself safe, I look about me. The first object that attracts my
attention is the lithe form of my pursuer who is running up and down the
bank lashing his tail in fury, and occasionally breaking forth in the
most savage roars. In its yellow coat and cat-like movements I recognize
the dreaded cougar--the tiger of the western mountains--an animal that,
when once aroused, will not hesitate to attack man or beast. He seemed
to be deliberating whether to follow me into the stream. It was plain he
disliked entering the water, and after pacing to and fro for some little
time, turned abruptly and left the bank. Thinking I had achieved a
victory, and finding that now I was safe, my courage was assuming a very
bold front; I picked up a stone and threw it in the direction of the
beast. Foolish action! It hit the cougar, and turning, he now rushed to
the bank, and, bellowing with rage, plunged into the river. My position
now became critical in the extreme. Once the rock was gained, I would
certainly be mangled by the fierce creature. I could not take flight by
water, as he could easily overtake me.
My terror was extreme, and I lost the power of will. Fright had made me
imbecile, and I rushed about the crest of the rock like a crazy man. All
this time the enraged brute drew nearer; his paws touch the base of the
rock; he is in the act of drawing his dripping limbs out of the water.
Mouth open, tongue extended, and eyes inflamed with rage, the cougar
prepares for the deadly spring. But look! the surface of the rock moves,
gives way, and slides with a gentle motion towards the river. He makes a
desperate effort to free himself from this natural trap, but in vain;
the rock moves faster every moment, and with one grand rush this land
slide is engulfed in the turbid waters. Instantly the body is thrown
back into the seething flood, and my last view of him is as he turns a
bend and disappears forever.
After waiting several hours for the waters to subside, I am enabled to
wade to the opposite shore, and, discovering my own trail by accident,
wend my way back to the village.
My adventure is related to Wakometkla, and soon spreads throughout the
village. From this time forth I am regarded in the light of a hero, but
on what grounds I was never able to satisfactorily determine, as I could
scarcely consider running away from a danger heroic.