The Adventures of Captain Bonneville
by Washington Irving
Hypertext Meanings and Commentaries
from the Encyclopedia of the Self
by Mark Zimmerman

Originally published in 1837

Introductory Notice

WHILE ENGAGED in writing an account of the grand enterprise of
Astoria, it was my practice to seek all kinds of oral information
connected with the subject. Nowhere did I pick up more
interesting particulars than at the table of Mr. John Jacob
Astor;  who, being the patriarch of the fur trade in the United
States, was accustomed to have at his board various persons of
adventurous turn, some of whom had been engaged in his own great
undertaking; others, on their own account, had made expeditions
to the Rocky Mountains and the waters of the Columbia.

Among these personages, one who peculiarly took my fancy was
Captain Bonneville, of the United States army; who, in a rambling
kind of enterprise, had strangely ingrafted the trapper and
hunter upon the soldier. As his expeditions and adventures will
form the leading theme of the following pages, a few biographical
particulars concerning him may not be unacceptable.

Captain Bonneville is of French parentage. His father was a
worthy old emigrant, who came to this country many years since,
and took up his abode in New York. He is represented as a man not
much calculated for the sordid struggle of a money-making world,
but possessed of a happy temperament, a festivity of imagination,
and a simplicity of heart, that made him proof against its rubs
and trials. He was an excellent scholar; well acquainted with
Latin and Greek, and fond of the modern classics. His book was
his elysium; once immersed in the pages of Voltaire, Corneille,
or Racine, or of his favorite English author, Shakespeare, he
forgot the world and all its concerns. Often would he be seen in
summer weather, seated under one of the trees on the Battery, or
the portico of St. Paul's church in Broadway, his bald head
uncovered, his hat lying by his side, his eyes riveted to the
page of his book, and his whole soul so engaged, as to lose all
consciousness of the passing throng or the passing hour.

Captain Bonneville, it will be found, inherited something of his
father's bonhommie, and his excitable imagination; though the
latter was somewhat disciplined in early years, by mathematical
studies. He was educated at our national Military Academy at West
Point, where he acquitted himself very creditably; thence, he
entered the army, in which he has ever since continued.

The nature of our military service took him to the frontier,
where, for a number of years, he was stationed at various posts
in the Far West. Here he was brought into frequent intercourse
with Indian traders, mountain trappers, and other pioneers of the
wilderness; and became so excited by their tales of wild scenes
and wild adventures, and their accounts of vast and magnificent
regions as yet unexplored, that an expedition to the Rocky
Mountains became the ardent desire of his heart, and an
enterprise to explore untrodden tracts, the leading object of his
ambition.

By degrees he shaped his vague day-dream into a practical
reality. Having made himself acquainted with all the requisites
for a trading enterprise beyond the mountains, he determined to
undertake it. A leave of absence, and a sanction of his
expedition, was obtained from the major general in chief, on his
offering to combine public utility with his private projects, and
to collect statistical information for the War Department
concerning the wild countries and wild tribes he might visit in
the course of his journeyings.

Nothing now was wanting to the darling project of the captain,
but the ways and means. The expedition would require an outfit of
many thousand dollars; a staggering obstacle to a soldier, whose
capital is seldom any thing more than his sword. Full of that
buoyant hope, however, which belongs to the sanguine temperament,
he repaired to New-York, the great focus of American enterprise,
where there are always funds ready for any scheme, however
chimerical or romantic. Here he had the good fortune to meet with
a gentleman of high respectability and influence, who had been
his associate in boyhood, and who cherished a schoolfellow
friendship for him. He took a general interest in the scheme of
the captain; introduced him to commercial men of his
acquaintance, and in a little while an association was formed,
and the necessary funds were raised to carry the proposed measure
into effect. One of the most efficient persons in this
association was Mr. Alfred Seton, who, when quite a youth, had
accompanied one of the expeditions sent out by Mr. Astor to his
commercial establishments on the Columbia, and had distinguished
himself by his activity and courage at one of the interior posts.
Mr. Seton was one of the American youths who were at Astoria at
the time of its surrender to the British, and who manifested such
grief and indignation at seeing the flag of their country hauled
down. The hope of seeing that flag once more planted on the
shores of the Columbia, may have entered into his motives for
engaging in the present enterprise.

Thus backed and provided, Captain Bonneville undertook his
expedition into the Far West, and was soon beyond the Rocky
Mountains. Year after year elapsed without his return. The term
of his leave of absence expired, yet no report was made of him at
head quarters at Washington. He was considered virtually dead or
lost and his name was stricken from the army list.

It was in the autumn of 1835 at the country seat of Mr. John
Jacob Astor, at Hellgate, that I first met with Captain
Bonneville He was then just returned from a residence of upwards
of three years among the mountains, and was on his way to report
himself at head quarters, in the hopes of being reinstated in the
service. From all that I could learn, his wanderings in the
wilderness though they had gratified his curiosity and his love
of adventure had not much benefited his fortunes. Like Corporal
Trim in his campaigns, he had "satisfied the sentiment," and that
was all. In fact, he was too much of the frank, freehearted
soldier, and had inherited too much of his father's temperament,
to make a scheming trapper, or a thrifty bargainer.

There was something in the whole appearance of the captain that
prepossessed me in his favor. He was of the middle size, well
made and well set; and a military frock of foreign cut, that had
seen service, gave him a look of compactness. His countenance was
frank, open, and engaging; well browned by the sun, and had
something of a French expression. He had a pleasant black eye, a
high forehead, and, while he kept his hat on, the look of a man
in the jocund prime of his days; but the moment his head was
uncovered, a bald crown gained him credit for a few more years
than he was really entitled to.

Being extremely curious, at the time, about every thing connected
with the Far West, I addressed numerous questions to him. They
drew from him a number of extremely striking details, which were
given with mingled modesty and frankness; and in a gentleness of
manner, and a soft tone of voice, contrasting singularly with the
wild and often startling nature of his themes. It was difficult
to conceive the mild, quiet-looking personage before you, the
actual hero of the stirring scenes related.

In the course of three or four months, happening to be at the
city of Washington, I again came upon the captain, who was
attending the slow adjustment of his affairs with the War
Department. I found him quartered with a worthy brother in arms,
a major in the army. Here he was writing at a table, covered with
maps and papers, in the centre of a large barrack room,
fancifully decorated with Indian arms, and trophies, and war
dresses, and the skins of various wild animals, and hung round
with pictures of Indian games and ceremonies, and scenes of war
and hunting. In a word, the captain was beguiling the tediousness
of attendance at court, by an attempt at authorship; and was
rewriting and extending his travelling notes, and making maps of
the regions he had explored. As he sat at the table, in this
curious apartment, with his high bald head of somewhat foreign
cast, he reminded me of some of those antique pictures of authors
that I have seen in old Spanish volumes.

The result of his labors was a mass of manuscript, which he
subsequently put at my disposal, to fit it for publication and
bring it before the world. I found it full of interesting details
of life among the mountains, and of the singular castes and
races, both white men and red men, among whom he had sojourned.
It bore, too, throughout, the impress of his character, his
bonhommie, his kindliness of spirit, and his susceptibility to
the grand and beautiful.

That manuscript has formed the staple of the following work. I
have occasionally interwoven facts and details, gathered from
various sources, especially from the conversations and journals
of some of the captain's contemporaries, who were actors in the
scenes he describes. I have also given it a tone and coloring
drawn from my own observation, during an excursion into the
Indian country beyond the bounds of civilization; as I before
observed, however, the work is substantially the narrative of the
worthy captain, and many of its most graphic passages are but
little varied from his own language.

I shall conclude this notice by a dedication which he had made of
his manuscript to his hospitable brother in arms, in whose
quarters I found him occupied in his literary labors; it is a
dedication which, I believe, possesses the qualities, not always
found in complimentary documents of the kind, of being sincere,
and being merited.

To JAMES HARVEY HOOK, Major, U. S. A.,
whose jealousy of its honor, whose anxiety for its interests, and
whose sensibility for its wants, have endeared him to the service
as The Soldier's Friend;
and whose general amenity, constant cheerfulness. disinterested
hospitality, and unwearied benevolence, entitle him to the still
loftier title of The Friend of Man,
this work is inscribed, etc.

                                                WASHINGTON IRVING

                              1.
                                
    State of the fur trade of the Rocky Mountains  American
enterprises General Ashley and his associates Sublette, a famous
  leader Yearly rendezvous among the mountains Stratagems and
dangers of the trade Bands of trappers Indian banditti Crows and
Blackfeet Mountaineers  Traders of the Far West Character and
                     habits of the trapper

IN A RECENT WORK we have given an account of the grand enterprise
of Mr. John Jacob Astor to establish an American emporium for the
fur trade at the mouth of the Columbia, or Oregon River; of the
failure of that enterprise through the capture of Astoria by the
British, in 1814; and of the way in which the control of the
trade of the Columbia and its dependencies fell into the hands of
the Northwest Company. We have stated, likewise, the unfortunate
supineness of the American government in neglecting the
application of Mr. Astor for the protection of the American flag,
and a small military force, to enable him to reinstate himself in
the possession of Astoria at the return of peace; when the post
was formally given up by the British government, though still
occupied by the Northwest Company. By that supineness the
sovereignty in the country has been virtually lost to the United
States; and it will cost both governments much trouble and
difficulty to settle matters on that just and rightful footing on
which they would readily have been placed had the proposition of
Mr. Astor been attended to. We shall now state a few particulars
of subsequent events, so as to lead the reader up to the period
of which we are about to treat, and to prepare him for the
circumstances of our narrative.

In consequence of the apathy and neglect of the American
government, Mr. Astor abandoned all thoughts of regaining
Astoria, and made no further attempt to extend his enterprises
beyond the Rocky Mountains; and the Northwest Company considered
themselves the lords of the country. They did not long enjoy
unmolested the sway which they had somewhat surreptitiously
attained. A fierce competition ensued between them and their old
rivals, the Hudson's Bay Company; which was carried on at great
cost and sacrifice, and occasionally with the loss of life. It
ended in the ruin of most of the partners of the Northwest
Company; and the merging of the relics of that establishment, in
1821, in the rival association. From that time, the Hudson's Bay
Company enjoyed a monopoly of the Indian trade from the coast of
the Pacific to the Rocky Mountains, and for a considerable extent
north and south. They removed their emporium from Astoria to Fort
Vancouver, a strong post on the left bank of the Columbia River,
about sixty miles from its mouth; whence they furnished their
interior posts, and sent forth their brigades of trappers.

The Rocky Mountains formed a vast barrier between them and the
United States, and their stern and awful defiles, their rugged
valleys, and the great western plains watered by their rivers,
remained almost a terra incognita to the American trapper. The
difficulties experienced in 1808, by Mr. Henry of the Missouri
Company, the first American who trapped upon the head-waters of
the Columbia; and the frightful hardships sustained by Wilson P.
Hunt, Ramsay Crooks, Robert Stuart, and other intrepid Astorians,
in their ill-fated expeditions across the mountains, appeared for
a time to check all further enterprise in that direction. The
American traders contented themselves with following up the head
branches of the Missouri, the Yellowstone, and other rivers and
streams on the Atlantic side of the mountains, but forbore to
attempt those great snow-crowned sierras.

One of the first to revive these tramontane expeditions was
General Ashley, of Missouri, a man whose courage and achievements
in the prosecution of his enterprises have rendered him famous in
the Far West. In conjunction with Mr. Henry, already mentioned,
he established a post on the banks of the Yellowstone River in
1822, and in the following year pushed a resolute band of
trappers across the mountains to the banks of the Green River or
Colorado of the West, often known by the Indian name of the
Seeds-ke-dee Agie. This attempt was followed up and sustained by
others, until in 1825 a footing was secured, and a complete
system of trapping organized beyond the mountains.

It is difficult to do justice to the courage, fortitude, and
perseverance of the pioneers of the fur trade, who conducted
these early expeditions, and first broke their way through a
wilderness where everything was calculated to deter and dismay
them. They had to traverse the most dreary and desolate
mountains, and barren and trackless wastes, uninhabited by man,
or occasionally infested by predatory and cruel savages. They
knew nothing of the country beyond the verge of their horizon,
and had to gather information as they wandered. They beheld
volcanic plains stretching around them, and ranges of mountains
piled up to the clouds, and glistening with eternal frost: but
knew nothing of their defiles, nor how they were to be penetrated
or traversed. They launched themselves in frail canoes on rivers,
without knowing whither their swift currents would carry them, or
what rocks and shoals and rapids they might encounter in their
course. They had to be continually on the alert, too, against the
mountain tribes, who beset every defile, laid ambuscades in their
path, or attacked them in their night encampments; so that, of
the hardy bands of trappers that first entered into these
regions, three-fifths are said to have fallen by the hands of
savage foes.

In this wild and warlike school a number of leaders have sprung
up, originally in the employ, subsequently partners of Ashley;
among these we may mention Smith, Fitzpatrick, Bridger, Robert
Campbell, and William Sublette; whose adventures and exploits
partake of the wildest spirit of romance. The association
commenced by General Ashley underwent various modifications. That
gentleman having acquired sufficient fortune, sold out his
interest and retired; and the leading spirit that succeeded him
was Captain William Sublette; a man worthy of note, as his name
has become renowned in frontier story. He is a native of
Kentucky, and of game descent; his maternal grandfather, Colonel
Wheatley, a companion of Boon, having been one of the pioneers of
the West, celebrated in Indian warfare, and killed in one of the
contests of the "Bloody Ground." We shall frequently have
occasion to speak of this Sublette, and always to the credit of
his game qualities. In 1830, the association took the name of the
Rocky Mountain Fur Company, of which Captain Sublette and Robert
Campbell were prominent members.

In the meantime, the success of this company attracted the
attention and excited the emulation of the American Fur Company,
and brought them once more into the field of their ancient
enterprise. Mr. Astor, the founder of the association, had
retired from busy life, and the concerns of the company were ably
managed by Mr. Ramsay Crooks, of Snake River renown, who still
officiates as its president. A competition immediately ensued
between the two companies for the trade with the mountain tribes
and the trapping of the head-waters of the Columbia and the other
great tributaries of the Pacific. Beside the regular operations
of these formidable rivals, there have been from time to time
desultory enterprises, or rather experiments, of minor
associations, or of adventurous individuals beside roving bands
of independent trappers, who either hunt for themselves, or
engage for a single season, in the service of one or other of the
main companies.

The consequence is that the Rocky Mountains and the ulterior
regions, from the Russian possessions in the north down to the
Spanish settlements of California, have been traversed and
ransacked in every direction by bands of hunters and Indian
traders; so that there is scarcely a mountain pass, or defile,
that is not known and threaded in their restless migrations, nor
a nameless stream that is not haunted by the lonely trapper.

The American fur companies keep no established posts beyond the
mountains. Everything there is regulated by resident partners;
that is to say, partners who reside in the tramontane country,
but who move about from place to place, either with Indian
tribes, whose traffic they wish to monopolize, or with main
bodies of their own men, whom they employ in trading and
trapping. In the meantime, they detach bands, or "brigades" as
they are termed, of trappers in various directions, assigning to
each a portion of country as a hunting or trapping ground. In the
months of June and July, when there is an interval between the
hunting seasons, a general rendezvous is held, at some designated
place in the mountains, where the affairs of the past year are
settled by the resident partners, and the plans for the following
year arranged.

To this rendezvous repair the various brigades of trappers from
their widely separated hunting grounds, bringing in the products
of their year's campaign. Hither also repair the Indian tribes
accustomed to traffic their peltries with the company. Bands of
free trappers resort hither also, to sell the furs they have
collected; or to engage their services for the next hunting
season.

To this rendezvous the company sends annually a convoy of
supplies from its establishment on the Atlantic frontier, under
the guidance of some experienced partner or officer. On the
arrival of this convoy, the resident partner at the rendezvous
depends to set all his next year's machinery in motion.

Now as the rival companies keep a vigilant eye upon each other,
and are anxious to discover each other's plans and movements,
they generally contrive to hold their annual assemblages at no
great distance apart. An eager competition exists also between
their respective convoys of supplies, which shall first reach its
place of rendezvous. For this purpose, they set off with the
first appearance of grass on the Atlantic frontier and push with
all diligence for the mountains. The company that can first open
its tempting supplies of coffee, tobacco, ammunition, scarlet
cloth, blankets, bright shawls, and glittering trinkets has the
greatest chance to get all the peltries and furs of the Indians
and free trappers, and to engage their services for the next
season. It is able, also, to fit out and dispatch its own
trappers the soonest, so as to get the start of its competitors,
and to have the first dash into the hunting and trapping grounds.

A new species of strategy has sprung out of this hunting and
trapping competition. The constant study of the rival bands is to
forestall and outwit each other; to supplant each other in the
good will and custom of the Indian tribes; to cross each other's
plans; to mislead each other as to routes; in a word, next to his
own advantage, the study of the Indian trader is the disadvantage
of his competitor.

The influx of this wandering trade has had its effects on the
habits of the mountain tribes. They have found the trapping of
the beaver their most profitable species of hunting; and the
traffic with the white man has opened to them sources of luxury
of which they previously had no idea. The introduction of
firearms has rendered them more successful hunters, but at the
same time, more formidable foes; some of them, incorrigibly
savage and warlike in their nature, have found the expeditions of
the fur traders grand objects of profitable adventure. To waylay
and harass a band of trappers with their pack-horses, when
embarrassed in the rugged defiles of the mountains, has become as
favorite an exploit with these Indians as the plunder of a
caravan to the Arab of the desert. The Crows and Blackfeet, who
were such terrors in the path of the early adventurers to
Astoria, still continue their predatory habits, but seem to have
brought them to greater system. They know the routes and resorts
of the trappers; where to waylay them on their journeys; where to
find them in the hunting seasons, and where to hover about them
in winter quarters. The life of a trapper, therefore, is a
perpetual state militant, and he must sleep with his weapons in
his hands.

A new order of trappers and traders, also, has grown out of this
system of things. In the old times of the great Northwest
Company, when the trade in furs was pursued chiefly about the
lakes and rivers, the expeditions were carried on in batteaux and
canoes. The voyageurs or boatmen were the rank and file in the
service of the trader, and even the hardy "men of the north,"
those great rufflers and game birds, were fain to be paddled from
point to point of their migrations.

A totally different class has now sprung up:--"the Mountaineers,"
the traders and trappers that scale the vast mountain chains, and
pursue their hazardous vocations amidst their wild recesses. They
move from place to place on horseback. The equestrian exercises,
therefore, in which they are engaged, the nature of the countries
they traverse, vast plains and mountains, pure and exhilarating
in atmospheric qualities, seem to make them physically and
mentally a more lively and mercurial race than the fur traders
and trappers of former days, the self-vaunting "men of the
north." A man who bestrides a horse must be essentially different
from a man who cowers in a canoe. We find them, accordingly,
hardy, lithe, vigorous, and active; extravagant in word, and
thought, and deed; heedless of hardship; daring of danger;
prodigal of the present, and thoughtless of the future.

A difference is to be perceived even between these mountain
hunters and those of the lower regions along the waters of the
Missouri. The latter, generally French creoles, live comfortably
in cabins and log-huts, well sheltered from the inclemencies of
the seasons. They are within the reach of frequent supplies from
the settlements; their life is comparatively free from danger,
and from most of the vicissitudes of the upper wilderness. The
consequence is that they are less hardy, self-dependent and
game-spirited than the mountaineer. If the latter by chance comes
among them on his way to and from the settlements, he is like a
game-cock among the common roosters of the poultry-yard.
Accustomed to live in tents, or to bivouac in the open air, he
despises the comforts and is impatient of the confinement of the
log-house. If his meal is not ready in season, he takes his
rifle, hies to the forest or prairie, shoots his own game, lights
his fire, and cooks his repast. With his horse and his rifle, he
is independent of the world, and spurns at all its restraints.
The very superintendents at the lower posts will not put him to
mess with the common men, the hirelings of the establishment, but
treat him as something superior.

There is, perhaps, no class of men on the face of the earth, says
Captain Bonneville, who lead a life of more continued exertion,
peril, and excitement, and who are more enamored of their
occupations, than the free trappers of the West. No toil, no
danger, no privation can turn the trapper from his pursuit. His
passionate excitement at times resembles a mania. In vain may the
most vigilant and cruel savages beset his path; in vain may rocks
and precipices and wintry torrents oppose his progress; let but a
single track of a beaver meet his eye, and he forgets all dangers
and defies all difficulties. At times, he may be seen with his
traps on his shoulder, buffeting his way across rapid streams,
amidst floating blocks of ice: at other times, he is to be found
with his traps swung on his back clambering the most rugged
mountains, scaling or descending the most frightful precipices,
searching, by routes inaccessible to the horse, and never before
trodden by white man, for springs and lakes unknown to his
comrades, and where he may meet with his favorite game. Such is
the mountaineer, the hardy trapper of the West; and such, as we
have slightly sketched it, is the wild, Robin Hood kind of life,
with all its strange and motley populace, now existing in full
vigor among the Rocky Mountains.

Having thus given the reader some idea of the actual state of the
fur trade in the interior of our vast continent, and made him
acquainted with the wild chivalry of the mountains, we will no
longer delay the introduction of Captain Bonneville and his band
into this field of their enterprise, but launch them at once upon
the perilous plains of the Far West.

                              2.
                                
    Departure from Fort Osage Modes of transportation Pack-
horses Wagons Walker and Cerre; their characters Buoyant feelings
     on launching upon the prairies Wild equipments of the
trappers Their gambols and antics Difference of character between
the American and French trappers  Agency of the Kansas General
Clarke White Plume, the Kansas chief Night scene in a trader's
     camp Colloquy between White Plume and the captain Bee-
hunters Their expeditions Their feuds with the Indians Bargaining
                     talent of White Plume

IT WAS ON THE FIRST of May, 1832, that Captain Bonneville took
his departure from the frontier post of Fort Osage, on the
Missouri. He had enlisted a party of one hundred and ten men,
most of whom had been in the Indian country, and some of whom
were experienced hunters and trappers. Fort Osage, and other
places on the borders of the western wilderness, abound with
characters of the kind, ready for any expedition.

The ordinary mode of transportation in these great inland
expeditions of the fur traders is on mules and pack-horses; but
Captain Bonneville substituted wagons. Though he was to travel
through a trackless wilderness, yet the greater part of his route
would lie across open plains, destitute of forests, and where
wheel carriages can pass in every direction. The chief difficulty
occurs in passing the deep ravines cut through the prairies by
streams and winter torrents. Here it is often necessary to dig a
road down the banks, and to make bridges for the wagons.

In transporting his baggage in vehicles of this kind, Captain
Bonneville thought he would save the great delay caused every
morning by packing the horses, and the labor of unpacking in the
evening. Fewer horses also would be required, and less risk
incurred of their wandering away, or being frightened or carried
off by the Indians. The wagons, also, would be more easily
defended, and might form a kind of fortification in case of
attack in the open prairies. A train of twenty wagons, drawn by
oxen, or by four mules or horses each, and laden with
merchandise, ammunition, and provisions, were disposed in two
columns in the center of the party, which was equally divided
into a van and a rear-guard. As sub-leaders or lieutenants in his
expedition, Captain Bonneville had made choice of Mr. J. R.
Walker and Mr. M. S. Cerre. The former was a native of Tennessee,
about six feet high, strong built, dark complexioned, brave in
spirit, though mild in manners. He had resided for many years in
Missouri, on the frontier; had been among the earliest
adventurers to Santa Fe, where he went to trap beaver, and was
taken by the Spaniards. Being liberated, he engaged with the
Spaniards and Sioux Indians in a war against the Pawnees; then
returned to Missouri, and had acted by turns as sheriff, trader,
trapper, until he was enlisted as a leader by Captain Bonneville.

Cerre, his other leader, had likewise been in expeditions to
Santa Fe, in which he had endured much hardship. He was of the
middle size, light complexioned, and though but about twenty-five
years of age, was considered an experienced Indian trader. It was
a great object with Captain Bonneville to get to the mountains
before the summer heats and summer flies should render the
travelling across the prairies distressing; and before the annual
assemblages of people connected with the fur trade should have
broken up, and dispersed to the hunting grounds.

The two rival associations already mentioned, the American Fur
Company and the Rocky Mountain Fur Company, had their several
places of rendezvous for the present year at no great distance
apart, in Pierre's Hole, a deep valley in the heart of the
mountains, and thither Captain Bonneville intended to shape his
course.

It is not easy to do justice to the exulting feelings of the
worthy captain at finding himself at the head of a stout band of
hunters, trappers, and woodmen; fairly launched on the broad
prairies, with his face to the boundless West. The tamest
inhabitant of cities, the veriest spoiled child of civilization,
feels his heart dilate and his pulse beat high on finding himself
on horseback in the glorious wilderness; what then must be the
excitement of one whose imagination had been stimulated by a
residence on the frontier, and to whom the wilderness was a
region of romance!

His hardy followers partook of his excitement. Most of them had
already experienced the wild freedom of savage life, and looked
forward to a renewal of past scenes of adventure and exploit.
Their very appearance and equipment exhibited a piebald mixture,
half civilized and half savage. Many of them looked more like
Indians than white men in their garbs and accoutrements, and
their very horses were caparisoned in barbaric style, with
fantastic trappings. The outset of a band of adventurers on one
of these expeditions is always animated and joyous. The welkin
rang with their shouts and yelps, after the manner of the
savages; and with boisterous jokes and light-hearted laughter. As
they passed the straggling hamlets and solitary cabins that
fringe the skirts of the frontier, they would startle their
inmates by Indian yells and war-whoops, or regale them with
grotesque feats of horsemanship, well suited to their halfsavage
appearance. Most of these abodes were inhabited by men who had
themselves been in similar expeditions; they welcomed the
travellers, therefore, as brother trappers, treated them with a
hunter's hospitality, and cheered them with an honest God speed
at parting.

And here we would remark a great difference, in point of
character and quality, between the two classes of trappers, the
"American" and "French," as they are called in contradistinction.
The latter is meant to designate the French creole of Canada or
Louisiana; the former, the trapper of the old American stock,
from Kentucky, Tennessee, and others of the western States. The
French trapper is represented as a lighter, softer, more
self-indulgent kind of man. He must have his Indian wife, his
lodge, and his petty conveniences. He is gay and thoughtless,
takes little heed of landmarks, depends upon his leaders and
companions to think for the common weal, and, if left to himself,
is easily perplexed and lost.

The American trapper stands by himself, and is peerless for the
service of the wilderness. Drop him in the midst of a prairie, or
in the heart of the mountains, and he is never at a loss. He
notices every landmark; can retrace his route through the most
monotonous plains, or the most perplexed labyrinths of the
mountains; no danger nor difficulty can appal him, and he scorns
to complain under any privation. In equipping the two kinds of
trappers, the Creole and Canadian are apt to prefer the light
fusee; the American always grasps his rifle; he despises what he
calls the "shot-gun." We give these estimates on the authority of
a trader of long experience, and a foreigner by birth. "I
consider one American," said he, "equal to three Canadians in
point of sagacity, aptness at resources, self-dependence, and
fearlessness of spirit. In fact, no one can cope with him as a
stark tramper of the wilderness."

Beside the two classes of trappers just mentioned, Captain
Bonneville had enlisted several Delaware Indians in his employ,
on whose hunting qualifications he placed great reliance.

On the 6th of May the travellers passed the last border
habitation, and bade a long farewell to the ease and security of
civilization. The buoyant and clamorous spirits with which they
had commenced their march gradually subsided as they entered upon
its difficulties. They found the prairies saturated with the
heavy cold rains, prevalent in certain seasons of the year in
this part of the country, the wagon wheels sank deep in the mire,
the horses were often to the fetlock, and both steed and rider
were completely jaded by the evening of the 12th, when they
reached the Kansas River; a fine stream about three hundred yards
wide, entering the Missouri from the south. Though fordable in
almost every part at the end of summer and during the autumn, yet
it was necessary to construct a raft for the transportation of
the wagons and effects. All this was done in the course of the
following day, and by evening, the whole party arrived at the
agency of the Kansas tribe. This was under the superintendence of
General Clarke, brother of the celebrated traveller of the same
name, who, with Lewis, made the first expedition down the waters
of the Columbia. He was living like a patriarch, surrounded by
laborers and interpreters, all snugly housed, and provided with
excellent farms. The functionary next in consequence to the agent
was the blacksmith, a most important, and, indeed, indispensable
personage in a frontier community. The Kansas resemble the Osages
in features, dress, and language; they raise corn and hunt the
buffalo, ranging the Kansas River, and its tributary streams; at
the time of the captain's visit, they were at war with the
Pawnees of the Nebraska, or Platte River.

The unusual sight of a train of wagons caused quite a sensation
among these savages; who thronged about the caravan, examining
everything minutely, and asking a thousand questions: exhibiting
a degree of excitability, and a lively curiosity totally opposite
to that apathy with which their race is so often reproached.

The personage who most attracted the captain's attention at this
place was "White Plume," the Kansas chief, and they soon became
good friends. White Plume (we are pleased with his chivalrous
soubriquet) inhabited a large stone house, built for him by order
of the American government: but the establishment had not been
carried out in corresponding style. It might be palace without,
but it was wigwam within; so that, between the stateliness of his
mansion and the squalidness of his furniture, the gallant White
Plume presented some such whimsical incongruity as we see in the
gala equipments of an Indian chief on a treaty-making embassy at
Washington, who has been generously decked out in cocked hat and
military coat, in contrast to his breech-clout and leathern
legging; being grand officer at top, and ragged Indian at bottom.

White Plume was so taken with the courtesy of the captain, and
pleased with one or two presents received from him, that he
accompanied him a day's journey on his march, and passed a night
in his camp, on the margin of a small stream. The method of
encamping generally observed by the captain was as follows: The
twenty wagons were disposed in a square, at the distance of
thirty-three feet from each other. In every interval there was a
mess stationed; and each mess had its fire, where the men cooked,
ate, gossiped, and slept. The horses were placed in the centre of
the square, with a guard stationed over them at night.

The horses were "side lined," as it is termed: that is to say,
the fore and hind foot on the same side of the animal were tied
together, so as to be within eighteen inches of each other. A
horse thus fettered is for a time sadly embarrassed, but soon
becomes sufficiently accustomed to the restraint to move about
slowly. It prevents his wandering; and his being easily carried
off at night by lurking Indians. When a horse that is "foot free"
is tied to one thus secured, the latter forms, as it were, a
pivot, round which the other runs and curvets, in case of alarm.
The encampment of which we are speaking presented a striking
scene. The various mess-fires were surrounded by picturesque
groups, standing, sitting, and reclining; some busied in cooking,
others in cleaning their weapons: while the frequent laugh told
that the rough joke or merry story was going on. In the middle of
the camp, before the principal lodge, sat the two chieftains,
Captain Bonneville and White Plume, in soldier-like communion,
the captain delighted with the opportunity of meeting on social
terms with one of the red warriors of the wilderness, the
unsophisticated children of nature. The latter was squatted on
his buffalo robe, his strong features and red skin glaring in the
broad light of a blazing fire, while he recounted astounding
tales of the bloody exploits of his tribe and himself in their
wars with the Pawnees; for there are no old soldiers more given
to long campaigning stories than Indian "braves."

The feuds of White Plume, however, had not been confined to the
red men; he had much to say of brushes with bee hunters, a class
of offenders for whom he seemed to cherish a particular
abhorrence. As the species of hunting prosecuted by these
worthies is not laid down in any of the ancient books of venerie,
and is, in fact, peculiar to our western frontier, a word or two
on the subject may not be unacceptable to the reader.

The bee hunter is generally some settler on the verge of the
prairies; a long, lank fellow, of fever and ague complexion,
acquired from living on new soil, and in a hut built of green
logs. In the autumn, when the harvest is over, these; frontier
settlers form parties of two or three, and prepare for a bee
hunt. Having provided themselves with a wagon, and a number of
empty casks, they sally off, armed with their rifles, into the
wilderness, directing their course east, west, north, or south,
without any regard to the ordinance of the American government,
which strictly forbids all trespass upon the lands belonging to
the Indian tribes.

The belts of woodland that traverse the lower prairies and border
the rivers are peopled by innumerable swarms of wild bees, which
make their hives in hollow trees and fill them with honey tolled
from the rich flowers of the prairies. The bees, according to
popular assertion, are migrating like the settlers, to the west.
An Indian trader, well experienced in the country, informs us
that within ten years that he has passed in the Far West, the bee
has advanced westward above a hundred miles. It is said on the
Missouri, that the wild turkey and the wild bee go up the river
together: neither is found in the upper regions. It is but
recently that the wild turkey has been killed on the Nebraska, or
Platte; and his travelling competitor, the wild bee, appeared
there about the same time.

Be all this as it may: the course of our party of bee hunters is
to make a wide circuit through the woody river bottoms, and the
patches of forest on the prairies, marking, as they go out, every
tree in which they have detected a hive. These marks are
generally respected by any other bee hunter that should come upon
their track. When they have marked sufficient to fill all their
casks, they turn their faces homeward, cut down the trees as they
proceed, and having loaded their wagon with honey and wax, return
well pleased to the settlements.

Now it so happens that the Indians relish wild honey as highly as
do the white men, and are the more delighted with this natural
luxury from its having, in many instances, but recently made its
appearance in their lands. The consequence is numberless disputes
and conflicts between them and the bee hunters: and often a party
of the latter, returning, laden with rich spoil, from one of
their forays, are apt to be waylaid by the native lords of the
soil; their honey to be seized, their harness cut to pieces, and
themselves left to find their way home the best way they can,
happy to escape with no greater personal harm than a sound
rib-roasting.

Such were the marauders of whose offences the gallant White Plume
made the most bitter complaint. They were chiefly the settlers of
the western part of Missouri, who are the most famous bee hunters
on the frontier, and whose favorite hunting ground lies within
the lands of the Kansas tribe. According to the account of White
Plume, however, matters were pretty fairly balanced between him
and the offenders; he having as often treated them to a taste of
the bitter, as they had robbed him of the sweets.

It is but justice to this gallant chief to say that he gave
proofs of having acquired some of the lights of civilization from
his proximity to the whites, as was evinced in his knowledge of
driving a bargain. He required hard cash in return for some corn
with which he supplied the worthy captain, and left the latter at
a loss which most to admire, his native chivalry as a brave, or
his acquired adroitness as a trader.

                               3
                                
  Wide prairies Vegetable productions Tabular hills  Slabs of
     sandstone Nebraska or Platte River Scanty fare Buffalo
    skulls Wagons turned into boats  Herds of buffalo Cliffs
resembling castles The chimney Scott's Bluffs Story connected
with them The bighorn or ahsahta Its nature and habits Difference
between that and the "woolly sheep," or goat of the mountains

FROM THE MIDDLE to the end of May, Captain Bonneville pursued a
western course over vast undulating plains, destitute of tree or
shrub, rendered miry by occasional rain, and cut up by deep
water-courses where they had to dig roads for their wagons down
the soft crumbling banks and to throw bridges across the streams.
The weather had attained the summer heat; the thermometer
standing about fifty-seven degrees in the morning, early, but
rising to about ninety degrees at noon. The incessant breezes,
however, which sweep these vast plains render the heats
endurable. Game was scanty, and they had to eke out their scanty
fare with wild roots and vegetables, such as the Indian potato,
the wild onion, and the prairie tomato, and they met with
quantities of "red root," from which the hunters make a very
palatable beverage. The only human being that crossed their path
was a Kansas warrior, returning from some solitary expedition of
bravado or revenge, bearing a Pawnee scalp as a trophy.

The country gradually rose as they proceeded westward, and their
route took them over high ridges, commanding wide and beautiful
prospects. The vast plain was studded on the west with
innumerable hills of conical shape, such as are seen north of the
Arkansas River. These hills have their summits apparently cut off
about the same elevation, so as to leave flat surfaces at top. It
is conjectured by some that the whole country may originally have
been of the altitude of these tabular hills; but through some
process of nature may have sunk to its present level; these
insulated eminences being protected by broad foundations of solid
rock.

Captain Bonneville mentions another geological phenomenon north
of Red River, where the surface of the earth, in considerable
tracts of country, is covered with broad slabs of sandstone,
having the form and position of grave-stones, and looking as if
they had been forced up by some subterranean agitation. "The
resemblance," says he, "which these very remarkable spots have in
many places to old church-yards is curious in the extreme. One
might almost fancy himself among the tombs of the pre-Adamites."

On the 2d of June, they arrived on the main stream of the
Nebraska or Platte River; twenty-five miles below the head of the
Great Island. The low banks of this river give it an appearance
of great width. Captain Bonneville measured it in one place, and
found it twenty-two hundred yards from bank to bank. Its depth
was from three to six feet, the bottom full of quicksands. The
Nebraska is studded with islands covered with that species of
poplar called the cotton-wood tree. Keeping up along the course
of this river for several days, they were obliged, from the
scarcity of game, to put themselves upon short allowance, and,
occasionally, to kill a steer. They bore their daily labors and
privations, however, with great good humor, taking their tone, in
all probability, from the buoyant spirit of their leader. "If the
weather was inclement," said the captain, "we watched the clouds,
and hoped for a sight of the blue sky and the merry sun. If food
was scanty, we regaled ourselves with the hope of soon falling in
with herds of buffalo, and having nothing to do but slay and
eat." We doubt whether the genial captain is not describing the
cheeriness of his own breast, which gave a cheery aspect to
everything around him.

There certainly were evidences, however, that the country was not
always equally destitute of game. At one place, they observed a
field decorated with buffalo skulls, arranged in circles, curves,
and other mathematical figures, as if for some mystic rite or
ceremony. They were almost innumerable, and seemed to have been a
vast hecatomb offered up in thanksgiving to the Great Spirit for
some signal success in the chase.

On the 11th of June, they came to the fork of the Nebraska, where
it divides itself into two equal and beautiful streams. One of
these branches rises in the west-southwest, near the headwaters
of the Arkansas. Up the course of this branch, as Captain
Bonneville was well aware, lay the route to the Camanche and
Kioway Indians, and to the northern Mexican settlements; of the
other branch he knew nothing. Its sources might lie among wild
and inaccessible cliffs, and tumble and foam down rugged defiles
and over craggy precipices; but its direction was in the true
course, and up this stream he determined to prosecute his route
to the Rocky Mountains. Finding it impossible, from quicksands
and other dangerous impediments, to cross the river in this
neighborhood, he kept up along the south fork for two days,
merely seeking a safe fording place. At length he encamped,
caused the bodies of the wagons to be dislodged from the wheels,
covered with buffalo hide, and besmeared with a compound of
tallow and ashes; thus forming rude boats. In these, they ferried
their effects across the stream, which was six hundred yards
wide, with a swift and strong current. Three men were in each
boat, to manage it; others waded across pushing the barks before
them. Thus all crossed in safety. A march of nine miles took them
over high rolling prairies to the north fork; their eyes being
regaled with the welcome sight of herds of buffalo at a distance,
some careering the plain, others grazing and reposing in the
natural meadows.

Skirting along the north fork for a day or two, excessively
annoyed by musquitoes and buffalo gnats, they reached, in the
evening of the 17th, a small but beautiful grove, from which
issued the confused notes of singing birds, the first they had
heard since crossing the boundary of Missouri. After so many days
of weary travelling through a naked, monotonous and silent
country, it was delightful once more to hear the song of the
bird, and to behold the verdure of the grove. It was a beautiful
sunset, and a sight of the glowing rays, mantling the tree-tops
and rustling branches, gladdened every heart. They pitched their
camp in the grove, kindled their fires, partook merrily of their
rude fare, and resigned themselves to the sweetest sleep they had
enjoyed since their outset upon the prairies.

The country now became rugged and broken. High bluffs advanced
upon the river, and forced the travellers occasionally to leave
its banks and wind their course into the interior. In one of the
wild and solitary passes they were startled by the trail of four
or five pedestrians, whom they supposed to be spies from some
predatory camp of either Arickara or Crow Indians. This obliged
them to redouble their vigilance at night, and to keep especial
watch upon their horses. In these rugged and elevated regions
they began to see the black-tailed deer, a species larger than
the ordinary kind, and chiefly found in rocky and mountainous
countries. They had reached also a great buffalo range; Captain
Bonneville ascended a high bluff, commanding an extensive view of
the surrounding plains. As far as his eye could reach, the
country seemed absolutely blackened by innumerable herds. No
language, he says, could convey an adequate idea of the vast
living mass thus presented to his eye. He remarked that the bulls
and cows generally congregated in separate herds.

Opposite to the camp at this place was a singular phenomenon,
which is among the curiosities of the country. It is called the
chimney. The lower part is a conical mound, rising out of the
naked plain; from the summit shoots up a shaft or column, about
one hundred and twenty feet in height, from which it derives its
name. The height of the whole, according to Captain Bonneville,
is a hundred and seventy-five yards. It is composed of indurated
clay, with alternate layers of red and white sandstone, and may
be seen at the distance of upward of thirty miles.

On the 21st, they encamped amidst high and beetling cliffs of
indurated clay and sandstone, bearing the semblance of towers,
castles, churches, and fortified cities. At a distance, it was
scarcely possible to persuade one's self that the works of art
were not mingled with these fantastic freaks of nature. They have
received the name of Scott's Bluffs, from a melancholy
circumstance. A number of years since, a party were descending
the upper part of the river in canoes, when their frail barks
were overturned and all their powder spoiled. Their rifles being
thus rendered useless, they were unable to procure food by
hunting and had to depend upon roots and wild fruits for
subsistence. After suffering extremely from hunger, they arrived
at Laramie's Fork, a small tributary of the north branch of the
Nebraska, about sixty miles above the cliffs just mentioned. Here
one of the party, by the name of Scott, was taken ill; and his
companions came to a halt, until he should recover health and
strength sufficient to proceed. While they were searching round
in quest of edible roots, they discovered a fresh trail of white
men, who had evidently but recently preceded them. What was to be
done? By a forced march they might overtake this party, and thus
be able to reach the settlements in safety. Should they linger,
they might all perish of famine and exhaustion. Scott, however,
was incapable of moving; they were too feeble to aid him forward,
and dreaded that such a clog would prevent their coming up with
the advance party. They determined, therefore, to abandon him to
his fate. Accordingly, under presence of seeking food, and such
simples as might be efficacious in his malady, they deserted him
and hastened forward upon the trail. They succeeded in overtaking
the party of which they were in quest, but concealed their
faithless desertion of Scott; alleging that he had died of
disease.

On the ensuing summer, these very individuals visiting these
parts in company with others, came suddenly upon the bleached
bones and grinning skull of a human skeleton, which, by certain
signs they recognized for the remains of Scott. This was sixty
long miles from the place where they had abandoned him; and it
appeared that the wretched man had crawled that immense distance
before death put an end to his miseries. The wild and picturesque
bluffs in the neighborhood of his lonely grave have ever since
borne his name.

Amidst this wild and striking scenery, Captain Bonneville, for
the first time, beheld flocks of the ahsahta or bighorn, an
animal which frequents these cliffs in great numbers. They accord
with the nature of such scenery, and add much to its romantic
effect; bounding like goats from crag to crag, often trooping
along the lofty shelves of the mountains, under the guidance of
some venerable patriarch with horns twisted lower than his
muzzle, and sometimes peering over the edge of a precipice, so
high that they appear scarce bigger than crows; indeed, it seems
a pleasure to them to seek the most rugged and frightful
situations, doubtless from a feeling of security.

This animal is commonly called the mountain sheep, and is often
confounded with another animal, the "woolly sheep," found more to
the northward, about the country of the Flatheads. The latter
likewise inhabits cliffs in summer, but descends into the valleys
in the winter. It has white wool, like a sheep, mingled with a
thin growth of long hair; but it has short legs, a deep belly,
and a beard like a goat. Its horns are about five inches long,
slightly curved backwards, black as jet, and beautifully
polished. Its hoofs are of the same color. This animal is by no
means so active as the bighorn; it does not bound much, but sits
a good deal upon its haunches. It is not so plentiful either;
rarely more than two or three are seen at a time. Its wool alone
gives a resemblance to the sheep; it is more properly of the
flesh is said to have a musty flavor; some have thought the
fleece might be valuable, as it is said to be as fine as that of
the goat Cashmere, but it is not to be procured in sufficient
quantities.

The ahsahta, argali, or bighorn, on the contrary, has short hair
like a deer, and resembles it in shape, but has the head and
horns of a sheep, and its flesh is said to be delicious mutton.
The Indians consider it more sweet and delicate than any other
kind of venison. It abounds in the Rocky Mountains, from the
fiftieth degree of north latitude, quite down to California;
generally in the highest regions capable of vegetation; sometimes
it ventures into the valleys, but on the least alarm, regains its
favorite cliffs and precipices, where it is perilous, if not
impossible for the hunter to follow.

                               4
                                
An alarm Crow Indians Their appearance Mode of approach Their
vengeful errand Their curiosity Hostility between the Crows and
  Blackfeet  Loving conduct of the Crows Laramie's Fork  First
navigation of the Nebraska Great elevation of the country Rarity
of the atmosphere Its effect on the wood-work of wagons Black
Hills Their wild and broken scenery Indian dogs Crow trophies
  Sterile and dreary country Banks of the Sweet Water Buffalo
         hunting Adventure of Tom Cain the Irish cook

WHEN ON THE MARCH, Captain Bonneville always sent some of his
best hunters in the advance to reconnoitre the country, as well
as to look out for game. On the 24th of May, as the caravan was
slowly journeying up the banks of the Nebraska, the hunters came
galloping back, waving their caps, and giving the alarm cry,
Indians! Indians!

The captain immediately ordered a halt: the hunters now came up
and announced that a large war-party of Crow Indians were just
above, on the river. The captain knew the character of these
savages; one of the most roving, warlike, crafty, and predatory
tribes of the mountains; horse-stealers of the first order, and
easily provoked to acts of sanguinary violence. Orders were
accordingly given to prepare for action, and every one promptly
took the post that had been assigned him in the general order of
the march, in all cases of warlike emergency.

Everything being put in battle array, the captain took the lead
of his little band, and moved on slowly and warily. In a little
while he beheld the Crow warriors emerging from among the bluffs.
There were about sixty of them; fine martial-looking fellows,
painted and arrayed for war, and mounted on horses decked out
with all kinds of wild trappings. They came prancing along in
gallant style, with many wild and dexterous evolutions, for none
can surpass them in horsemanship; and their bright colors, and
flaunting and fantastic embellishments, glaring and sparkling in
the morning sunshine, gave them really a striking appearance.

Their mode of approach, to one not acquainted with the tactics
and ceremonies of this rude chivalry of the wilderness, had an
air of direct hostility. They came galloping forward in a body,
as if about to make a furious charge, but, when close at hand,
opened to the right and left, and wheeled in wide circles round
the travellers, whooping and yelling like maniacs.

This done, their mock fury sank into a calm, and the chief,
approaching the captain, who had remained warily drawn up, though
informed of the pacific nature of the maneuver, extended to him
the hand of friendship. The pipe of peace was smoked, and now all
was good fellowship.

The Crows were in pursuit of a band of Cheyennes, who had
attacked their village in the night and killed one of their
people. They had already been five and twenty days on the track
of the marauders, and were determined not to return home until
they had sated their revenge.

A few days previously, some of their scouts, who were ranging the
country at a distance from the main body, had discovered the
party of Captain Bonneville. They had dogged it for a time in
secret, astonished at the long train of wagons and oxen, and
especially struck with the sight of a cow and calf, quietly
following the caravan; supposing them to be some kind of tame
buffalo. Having satisfied their curiosity, they carried back to
their chief intelligence of all that they had seen. He had, in
consequence, diverged from his pursuit of vengeance to behold the
wonders described to him. "Now that we have met you," said he to
Captain Bonneville, "and have seen these marvels with our own
eyes, our hearts are glad." In fact, nothing could exceed the
curiosity evinced by these people as to the objects before them.
Wagons had never been seen by them before, and they examined them
with the greatest minuteness; but the calf was the peculiar
object of their admiration. They watched it with intense interest
as it licked the hands accustomed to feed it, and were struck
with the mild expression of its countenance, and its perfect
docility.

After much sage consultation, they at length determined that it
must be the "great medicine" of the white party; an appellation
given by the Indians to anything of supernatural and mysterious
power that is guarded as a talisman. They were completely thrown
out in their conjecture, however, by an offer of the white men to
exchange the calf for a horse; their estimation of the great
medicine sank in an instant, and they declined the bargain.

At the request of the Crow chieftain the two parties encamped
together, and passed the residue of the day in company. The
captain was well pleased with every opportunity to gain a
knowledge of the "unsophisticated sons of nature," who had so
long been objects of his poetic speculations; and indeed this
wild, horse-stealing tribe is one of the most notorious of the
mountains. The chief, of course, had his scalps to show and his
battles to recount. The Blackfoot is the hereditary enemy of the
Crow, toward whom hostility is like a cherished principle of
religion; for every tribe, besides its casual antagonists, has
some enduring foe with whom there can be no permanent
reconciliation. The Crows and Blackfeet, upon the whole, are
enemies worthy of each other, being rogues and ruffians of the
first water. As their predatory excursions extend over the same
regions, they often come in contact with each other, and these
casual conflicts serve to keep their wits awake and their
passions alive.

The present party of Crows, however, evinced nothing of the
invidious character for which they are renowned. During the day
and night that they were encamped in company with the travellers,
their conduct was friendly in the extreme. They were, in fact,
quite irksome in their attentions, and had a caressing manner at
times quite importunate. It was not until after separation on the
following morning that the captain and his men ascertained the
secret of all this loving-kindness. In the course of their
fraternal caresses, the Crows had contrived to empty the pockets
of their white brothers; to abstract the very buttons from their
coats, and, above all, to make free with their hunting knives.

By equal altitudes of the sun, taken at this last encampment,
Captain Bonneville ascertained his latitude to be 41  47' north.
The thermometer, at six o'clock in the morning, stood at
fifty-nine degrees; at two o'clock, P. M., at ninety-two degrees;
and at six o'clock in the evening, at seventy degrees.

The Black Hills, or Mountains, now began to be seen at a
distance, printing the horizon with their rugged and broken
outlines; and threatening to oppose a difficult barrier in the
way of the travellers.

On the 26th of May, the travellers encamped at Laramie's Fork, a
clear and beautiful stream, rising in the west-southwest,
maintaining an average width of twenty yards, and winding through
broad meadows abounding in currants and gooseberries, and adorned
with groves and clumps of trees.

By an observation of Jupiter's satellites, with a Dolland
reflecting telescope, Captain Bonneville ascertained the
longitude to be 102  57' west of Greenwich.

We will here step ahead of our narrative to observe that about
three years after the time of which we are treating, Mr. Robert
Campbell, formerly of the Rocky Mountain Fur Company, descended
the Platte from this fork, in skin canoes, thus proving, what had
always been discredited, that the river was navigable. About the
same time, he built a fort or trading post at Laramie's Fork,
which he named Fort William, after his friend and partner, Mr.
William Sublette. Since that time, the Platte has become a
highway for the fur traders.

For some days past, Captain Bonneville had been made sensible of
the great elevation of country into which he was gradually
ascending by the effect of the dryness and rarefaction of the
atmosphere upon his wagons. The wood-work shrunk; the paint boxes
of the wheels were continually working out, and it was necessary
to support the spokes by stout props to prevent their falling
asunder. The travellers were now entering one of those great
steppes of the Far West, where the prevalent aridity of the
atmosphere renders the country unfit for cultivation. In these
regions there is a fresh sweet growth of grass in the spring, but
it is scanty and short, and parches up in the course of the
summer, so that there is none for the hunters to set fire to in
the autumn. It is a common observation that "above the forks of
the Platte the grass does not burn." All attempts at agriculture
and gardening in the neighborhood of Fort William have been
attended with very little success. The grain and vegetables
raised there have been scanty in quantity and poor in quality.
The great elevation of these plains, and the dryness of the
atmosphere, will tend to retain these immense regions in a state
of pristine wildness.

In the course of a day or two more, the travellers entered that
wild and broken tract of the Crow country called the Black Hills,
and here their journey became toilsome in the extreme. Rugged
steeps and deep ravines incessantly obstructed their progress, so
that a great part of the day was spent in the painful toil of
digging through banks, filling up ravines, forcing the wagons up
the most forbidding ascents, or swinging them with ropes down the
face of dangerous precipices. The shoes of their horses were worn
out, and their feet injured by the rugged and stony roads. The
travellers were annoyed also by frequent but brief storms, which
would come hurrying over the hills, or through the mountain
defiles, rage with great fury for a short time, and then pass
off, leaving everything calm and serene again.

For several nights the camp had been infested by vagabond Indian
dogs, prowling about in quest of food. They were about the size
of a large pointer; with ears short and erect, and a long bushy
tail--altogether, they bore a striking resemblance to a wolf.
These skulking visitors would keep about the purlieus of the camp
until daylight; when, on the first stir of life among the
sleepers, they would scamper off until they reached some rising
ground, where they would take their seats, and keep a sharp and
hungry watch upon every movement. The moment the travellers were
fairly on the march, and the camp was abandoned, these starving
hangers-on would hasten to the deserted fires, to seize upon the
half-picked bones, the offal and garbage that lay about; and,
having made a hasty meal, with many a snap and snarl and growl,
would follow leisurely on the trail of the caravan. Many attempts
were made to coax or catch them, but in vain. Their quick and
suspicious eyes caught the slightest sinister movement, and they
turned and scampered off. At length one was taken. He was
terribly alarmed, and crouched and trembled as if expecting
instant death. Soothed, however, by caresses, he began after a
time to gather confidence and wag his tail, and at length was
brought to follow close at the heels of his captors, still,
however, darting around furtive and suspicious glances, and
evincing a disposition to scamper off upon the least alarm.

On the first of July the band of Crow warriors again crossed
their path. They came in vaunting and vainglorious style;
displaying five Cheyenne scalps, the trophies of their vengeance.
They were now bound homewards, to appease the manes of their
comrade by these proofs that his death had been revenged, and
intended to have scalp-dances and other triumphant rejoicings.
Captain Bonneville and his men, however, were by no means
disposed to renew their confiding intimacy with these crafty
savages, and above all, took care to avoid their pilfering
caresses. They remarked one precaution of the Crows with respect
to their horses; to protect their hoofs from the sharp and jagged
rocks among which they had to pass, they had covered them with
shoes of buffalo hide.

The route of the travellers lay generally along the course of the
Nebraska or Platte, but occasionally, where steep promontories
advanced to the margin of the stream, they were obliged to make
inland circuits. One of these took them through a bold and stern
country, bordered by a range of low mountains, running east and
west. Everything around bore traces of some fearful convulsion
of nature in times long past. Hitherto the various strata of rock
had exhibited a gentle elevation toward the southwest, but here
everything appeared to have been subverted, and thrown out of
place. In many places there were heavy beds of white sandstone
resting upon red. Immense strata of rocks jutted up into crags
and cliffs; and sometimes formed perpendicular walls and
overhanging precipices. An air of sterility prevailed over these
savage wastes. The valleys were destitute of herbage, and
scantily clothed with a stunted species of wormwood, generally
known among traders and trappers by the name of sage. From an
elevated point of their march through this region, the travellers
caught a beautiful view of the Powder River Mountains away to the
north, stretching along the very verge of the horizon, and
seeming, from the snow with which they were mantled, to be a
chain of small white clouds, connecting sky and earth.

Though the thermometer at mid-day ranged from eighty to ninety,
and even sometimes rose to ninety-three degrees, yet occasional
spots of snow were to be seen on the tops of the low mountains,
among which the travellers were journeying; proofs of the great
elevation of the whole region.

The Nebraska, in its passage through the Black Hills, is confined
to a much narrower channel than that through which it flows n the
plains below; but it is deeper and clearer, and rushes with a
stronger current. The scenery, also, is more varied and
beautiful. Sometimes it glides rapidly but smoothly through a
picturesque valley, between wooded banks; then, forcing its way
into the bosom of rugged mountains, it rushes impetuously through
narrow defiles, roaring and foaming down rocks and rapids, until
it is again soothed to rest in some peaceful valley.

On the 12th of July, Captain Bonneville abandoned the main stream
of the Nebraska, which was continually shouldered by rugged
promontories, and making a bend to the southwest, for a couple of
days, part of the time over plains of loose sand, encamped on the
14th on the banks of the Sweet Water, a stream about twenty yards
in breadth, and four or five feet deep, flowing between low banks
over a sandy soil, and forming one of the forks or upper branches
of the Nebraska. Up this stream they now shaped their course for
several successive days, tending, generally, to the west. The
soil was light and sandy; the country much diversified.
Frequently the plains were studded with isolated blocks of rock,
sometimes in the shape of a half globe, and from three to four
hundred feet high. These singular masses had occasionally a very
imposing, and even sublime appearance, rising from the midst of a
savage and lonely landscape.

As the travellers continued to advance, they became more and more
sensible of the elevation of the country. The hills around were
more generally capped with snow. The men complained of cramps and
colics, sore lips and mouths, and violent headaches. The
wood-work of the wagons also shrank so much that it was with
difficulty the wheels were kept from falling to pieces. The
country bordering upon the river was frequently gashed with deep
ravines, or traversed by high bluffs, to avoid which, the
travellers were obliged to make wide circuits through the plains.
In the course of these, they came upon immense herds of buffalo,
which kept scouring off in the van, like a retreating army.

Among the motley retainers of the camp was Tom Cain, a raw
Irishman, who officiated as cook, whose various blunders and
expedients in his novel situation, and in the wild scenes and
wild kind of life into which he had suddenly been thrown, had
made him a kind of butt or droll of the camp. Tom, however, began
to discover an ambition superior to his station; and the
conversation of the hunters, and their stories of their exploits,
inspired him with a desire to elevate himself to the dignity of
their order. The buffalo in such immense droves presented a
tempting opportunity for making his first essay. He rode, in the
line of march, all prepared for action: his powder-flask and
shot-pouch knowingly slung at the pommel of his saddle, to be at
hand; his rifle balanced on his shoulder. While in this plight, a
troop of Buffalo came trotting by in great alarm. In an instant,
Tom sprang from his horse and gave chase on foot. Finding they
were leaving him behind, he levelled his rifle and pulled [the]
trigger. His shot produced no other effect than to increase the
speed of the buffalo, and to frighten his own horse, who took to
his heels, and scampered off with all the ammunition. Tom
scampered after him, hallooing with might and main, and the wild
horse and wild Irishman soon disappeared among the ravines of the
prairie. Captain Bonneville, who was at the head of the line, and
had seen the transaction at a distance, detached a party in
pursuit of Tom. After a long interval they returned, leading the
frightened horse; but though they had scoured the country, and
looked out and shouted from every height, they had seen nothing
of his rider.

As Captain Bonneville knew Tom's utter awkwardness and
inexperience, and the dangers of a bewildered Irishman in the
midst of a prairie, he halted and encamped at an early hour, that
there might be a regular hunt for him in the morning.

At early dawn on the following day scouts were sent off in every
direction, while the main body, after breakfast, proceeded slowly
on its course. It was not until the middle of the afternoon that
the hunters returned, with honest Tom mounted behind one of them.
They had found him in a complete state of perplexity and
amazement. His appearance caused shouts of merriment in the
camp,--but Tom for once could not join in the mirth raised at his
expense: he was completely chapfallen, and apparently cured of
the hunting mania for the rest of his life.

                               5
                                
Magnificent scenery Wind River Mountains Treasury of waters A
stray horse An Indian trail  Trout streams The Great Green River
      Valley  An alarm A band of trappers Fontenelle, his
  information Sufferings of thirst Encampment on the Seeds-ke-
  dee Strategy of rival traders  Fortification of the camp The
Blackfeet Banditti of the mountains Their character and habits

IT WAS ON THE 20TH of July that Captain Bonneville first came in
sight of the grand region of his hopes and anticipations, the
Rocky Mountains. He had been making a bend to the south, to avoid
some obstacles along the river, and had attained a high, rocky
ridge, when a magnificent prospect burst upon his sight. To the
west rose the Wind River Mountains, with their bleached and snowy
summits towering into the clouds. These stretched far to the
north-northwest, until they melted away into what appeared to be
faint clouds, but which the experienced eyes of the veteran
hunters of the party recognized for the rugged mountains of the
Yellowstone; at the feet of which extended the wild Crow country:
a perilous, though profitable region for the trapper.

To the southwest, the eye ranged over an immense extent of
wilderness, with what appeared to be a snowy vapor resting upon
its horizon. This, however, was pointed out as another branch of
the Great Chippewyan, or Rocky chain; being the Eutaw Mountains,
at whose basis the wandering tribe of hunters of the same name
pitch their tents. We can imagine the enthusiasm of the worthy
captain when he beheld the vast and mountainous scene of his
adventurous enterprise thus suddenly unveiled before him. We can
imagine with what feelings of awe and admiration he must have
contemplated the Wind River Sierra, or bed of mountains; that
great fountainhead from whose springs, and lakes, and melted
snows some of those mighty rivers take their rise, which wander
over hundreds of miles of varied country and clime, and find
their way to the opposite waves of the Atlantic and the Pacific.

The Wind River Mountains are, in fact, among the most remarkable
of the whole Rocky chain; and would appear to be among the
loftiest. They form, as it were, a great bed of mountains, about
eighty miles in length, and from twenty to thirty in breadth;
with rugged peaks, covered with eternal snows, and deep, narrow
valleys full of springs, and brooks, and rock-bound lakes. From
this great treasury of waters issue forth limpid streams, which,
augmenting as they descend, become main tributaries of the
Missouri on the one side, and the Columbia on the other; and give
rise to the Seeds-ke-dee Agie, or Green River, the great Colorado
of the West, that empties its current into the Gulf of
California.

The Wind River Mountains are notorious in hunters' and trappers'
stories: their rugged defiles, and the rough tracts about their
neighborhood, having been lurking places for the predatory hordes
of the mountains, and scenes of rough encounter with Crows and
Blackfeet. It was to the west of these mountains, in the valley
of the Seeds-ke-dee Agie, or Green River, that Captain Bonneville
intended to make a halt for the purpose of giving repose to his
people and his horses after their weary journeying; and of
collecting information as to his future course. This Green River
valley, and its immediate neighborhood, as we have already
observed, formed the main point of rendezvous, for the present
year, of the rival fur companies, and the motley populace,
civilized and savage, connected with them. Several days of rugged
travel, however, yet remained for the captain and his men before
they should encamp in this desired resting-place.

On the 21st of July, as they were pursuing their course through
one of the meadows of the Sweet Water, they beheld a horse
grazing at a little distance. He showed no alarm at their
approach, but suffered himself quietly to be taken, evincing a
perfect state of tameness. The scouts of the party were instantly
on the look-out for the owners of this animal; lest some
dangerous band of savages might be lurking in the vicinity. After
a narrow search, they discovered the trail of an Indian party,
which had evidently passed through that neighborhood but
recently. The horse was accordingly taken possession of, as an
estray; but a more vigilant watch than usual was kept round the
camp at nights, lest his former owners should be upon the prowl.

The travellers had now attained so high an elevation that on the
23d of July, at daybreak, there was considerable ice in the
waterbuckets, and the thermometer stood at twenty-two degrees.
The rarefy of the atmosphere continued to affect the wood-work of
the wagons, and the wheels were incessantly falling to pieces. A
remedy was at length devised. The tire of each wheel was taken
off; a band of wood was nailed round the exterior of the felloes,
the tire was then made red hot, replaced round the wheel, and
suddenly cooled with water. By this means, the whole was bound
together with great compactness.

The extreme elevation of these great steppes, which range along
the feet of the Rocky Mountains, takes away from the seeming
height of their peaks, which yield to few in the known world in
point of altitude above the level of the sea.

On the 24th, the travellers took final leave of the Sweet Water,
and keeping westwardly, over a low and very rocky ridge, one of
the most southern spurs of the Wind River Mountains, they
encamped, after a march of seven hours and a half, on the banks
of a small clear stream, running to the south, in which they
caught a number of fine trout.

The sight of these fish was hailed with pleasure, as a sign that
they had reached the waters which flow into the Pacific; for it
is only on the western streams of the Rocky Mountains that trout
are to be taken. The stream on which they had thus encamped
proved, in effect, to be tributary to the Seeds-ke-dee Agie, or
Green River, into which it flowed at some distance to the south.

Captain Bonneville now considered himself as having fairly passed
the crest of the Rocky Mountains; and felt some degree of
exultation in being the first individual that had crossed, north
of the settled provinces of Mexico, from the waters of the
Atlantic to those of the Pacific, with wagons. Mr. William
Sublette, the enterprising leader of the Rocky Mountain Fur
Company, had, two or three years previously, reached the valley
of the Wind River, which lies on the northeast of the mountains;
but had proceeded with them no further.

A vast valley now spread itself before the travellers, bounded on
one side by the Wind River Mountains, and to the west, by a long
range of high hills. This, Captain Bonneville was assured by a
veteran hunter in his company, was the great valley of the
Seedske-dee; and the same informant would have fain persuaded him
that a small stream, three feet deep, which he came to on the
25th, was that river. The captain was convinced, however, that
the stream was too insignificant to drain so wide a valley and
the adjacent mountains: he encamped, therefore, at an early hour,
on its borders, that he might take the whole of the next day to
reach the main river; which he presumed to flow between him and
the distant range of western hills.

On the 26th of July, he commenced his march at an early hour,
making directly across the valley, toward the hills in the west;
proceeding at as brisk a rate as the jaded condition of his
horses would permit. About eleven o'clock in the morning, a great
cloud of dust was descried in the rear, advancing directly on the
trail of the party. The alarm was given; they all came to a halt,
and held a council of war. Some conjectured that the band of
Indians, whose trail they had discovered in the neighborhood of
the stray horse, had been lying in wait for them in some secret
fastness of the mountains; and were about to attack them on the
open plain, where they would have no shelter. Preparations were
immediately made for defence; and a scouting party sent off to
reconnoitre. They soon came galloping back, making signals that
all was well. The cloud of dust was made by a band of fifty or
sixty mounted trappers, belonging to the American Fur Company,
who soon came up, leading their pack-horses. They were headed by
Mr. Fontenelle, an experienced leader, or "partisan," as a chief
of a party is called in the technical language of the trappers.

Mr. Fontenelle informed Captain Bonneville that he was on his way
from the company's trading post on the Yellowstone to the yearly
rendezvous, with reinforcements and supplies for their hunting
and trading parties beyond the mountains; and that he expected to
meet, by appointment, with a band of free trappers in that very
neighborhood. He had fallen upon the trail of Captain
Bonneville's party, just after leaving the Nebraska; and, finding
that they had frightened off all the game, had been obliged to
push on, by forced marches, to avoid famine: both men and horses
were, therefore, much travel-worn; but this was no place to halt;
the plain before them he said was destitute of grass and water,
neither of which would be met with short of the Green River,
which was yet at a considerable distance. He hoped, he added, as
his party were all on horseback, to reach the river, with hard
travelling, by nightfall: but he doubted the possibility of
Captain Bonneville's arrival there with his wagons before the day
following. Having imparted this information, he pushed forward
with all speed.

Captain Bonneville followed on as fast as circumstances would
permit. The ground was firm and gravelly; but the horses were too
much fatigued to move rapidly. After a long and harassing day's
march, without pausing for a noontide meal, they were compelled,
at nine o'clock at night, to encamp in an open plain, destitute
of water or pasturage. On the following morning, the horses were
turned loose at the peep of day; to slake their thirst, if
possible, from the dew collected on the sparse grass, here and
there springing up among dry sand-banks. The soil of a great part
of this Green River valley is a whitish clay, into which the rain
cannot penetrate, but which dries and cracks with the sun. In
some places it produces a salt weed, and grass along the margins
of the streams; but the wider expanses of it are desolate and
barren. It was not until noon that Captain Bonneville reached the
banks of the Seeds-ke-dee, or Colorado of the West; in the
meantime, the sufferings of both men and horses had been
excessive, and it was with almost frantic eagerness that they
hurried to allay their burning thirst in the limpid current of
the river.

Fontenelle and his party had not fared much better; the chief
part had managed to reach the river by nightfall, but were nearly
knocked up by the exertion; the horses of others sank under them,
and they were obliged to pass the night upon the road.

On the following morning, July 27th, Fontenelle moved his camp
across the river; while Captain Bonneville proceeded some little
distance below, where there was a small but fresh meadow yielding
abundant pasturage. Here the poor jaded horses were turned out to
graze, and take their rest: the weary journey up the mountains
had worn them down in flesh and spirit; but this last march
across the thirsty plain had nearly finished them.

The captain had here the first taste of the boasted strategy of
the fur trade. During his brief, but social encampment, in
company with Fontenelle, that experienced trapper had managed to
win over a number of Delaware Indians whom the captain had
brought with him, by offering them four hundred dollars each for
the ensuing autumnal hunt. The captain was somewhat astonished
when he saw these hunters, on whose services he had calculated
securely, suddenly pack up their traps, and go over to the rival
camp. That he might in some measure, however, be even with his
competitor, he dispatched two scouts to look out for the band of
free trappers who were to meet Fontenelle in this neighborhood,
and to endeavor to bring them to his camp.

As it would be necessary to remain some time in this
neighborhood, that both men and horses might repose, and recruit
their strength; and as it was a region full of danger, Captain
Bonneville proceeded to fortify his camp with breastworks of logs
and pickets.

These precautions were, at that time, peculiarly necessary, from
the bands of Blackfeet Indians which were roving about the
neighborhood. These savages are the most dangerous banditti of
the mountains, and the inveterate foe of the trappers. They are
Ishmaelites of the first order, always with weapon in hand, ready
for action. The young braves of the tribe, who are destitute of
property, go to war for booty; to gain horses, and acquire the
means of setting up a lodge, supporting a family, and entitling
themselves to a seat in the public councils. The veteran warriors
fight merely for the love of the thing, and the consequence which
success gives them among their people.

They are capital horsemen, and are generally well mounted on
short, stout horses, similar to the prairie ponies to be met with
at St. Louis. When on a war party, however, they go on foot, to
enable them to skulk through the country with greater secrecy; to
keep in thickets and ravines, and use more adroit subterfuges and
stratagems. Their mode of warfare is entirely by ambush,
surprise, and sudden assaults in the night time. If they succeed
in causing a panic, they dash forward with headlong fury: if the
enemy is on the alert, and shows no signs of fear, they become
wary and deliberate in their movements.

Some of them are armed in the primitive style, with bows and
arrows; the greater part have American fusees, made after the
fashion of those of the Hudson's Bay Company. These they procure
at the trading post of the American Fur Company, on Marias River,
where they traffic their peltries for arms, ammunition, clothing,
and trinkets. They are extremely fond of spirituous liquors and
tobacco; for which nuisances they are ready to exchange not
merely their guns and horses, but even their wives and daughters.
As they are a treacherous race, and have cherished a lurking
hostility to the whites ever since one of their tribe was killed
by Mr. Lewis, the associate of General Clarke, in his exploring
expedition across the Rocky Mountains, the American Fur Company
is obliged constantly to keep at that post a garrison of sixty or
seventy men.

Under the general name of Blackfeet are comprehended several
tribes: such as the Surcies, the Peagans, the Blood Indians, and
the Gros Ventres of the Prairies: who roam about the southern
branches of the Yellowstone and Missouri Rivers, together with
some other tribes further north.

The bands infesting the Wind River Mountains and the country
adjacent at the time of which we are treating, were Gros Ventres
of the Prairies, which are not to be confounded with Gros Ventres
of the Missouri, who keep about the lower part of that river, and
are friendly to the white men.

This hostile band keeps about the headwaters of the Missouri, and
numbers about nine hundred fighting men. Once in the course of
two or three years they abandon their usual abodes, and make a
visit to the Arapahoes of the Arkansas. Their route lies either
through the Crow country, and the Black Hills, or through the
lands of the Nez Perces, Flatheads, Bannacks, and Shoshonies. As
they enjoy their favorite state of hostility with all these
tribes, their expeditions are prone to be conducted in the most
lawless and predatory style; nor do they hesitate to extend their
maraudings to any party of white men they meet with; following
their trails; hovering about their camps; waylaying and dogging
the caravans of the free traders, and murdering the solitary
trapper. The consequences are frequent and desperate fights
between them and the "mountaineers," in the wild defiles and
fastnesses of the Rocky Mountains.

The band in question was, at this time, on their way homeward
from one of their customary visits to the Arapahoes; and in the
ensuing chapter we shall treat of some bloody encounters between
them and the trappers, which had taken place just before the
arrival of Captain Bonneville among the mountains.

                               6
                                
                                
                                
Sublette and his band Robert Campbell Mr. Wyeth and a band of
"down-easters"  Yankee enterprise  Fitzpatrick His adventure with
the Blackfeet A rendezvous of mountaineers The battle of Pierre's
           Hole An Indian ambuscade Sublette's return

LEAVING CAPTAIN BONNEVILLE and his band ensconced within their
fortified camp in the Green River valley, we shall step back and
accompany a party of the Rocky Mountain Fur Company in its
progress, with supplies from St. Louis, to the annual rendezvous
at Pierre's Hole. This party consisted of sixty men, well
mounted, and conducting a line of packhorses. They were commanded
by Captain William Sublette, a partner in the company, and one of
the most active, intrepid, and renowned leaders in this half
military kind of service. He was accompanied by his associate in
business, and tried companion in danger, Mr. Robert Campbell, one
of the pioneers of the trade beyond the mountains, who had
commanded trapping parties there in times of the greatest peril.

As these worthy compeers were on their route to the frontier,
they fell in with another expedition, likewise on its way to the
mountains. This was a party of regular "down-easters," that is to
say, people of New England, who, with the all-penetrating and
all-pervading spirit of their race, were now pushing their way
into a new field of enterprise with which they were totally
unacquainted. The party had been fitted out and was maintained
and commanded by Mr. Nathaniel J. Wyeth, of Boston. This
gentleman had conceived an idea that a profitable fishery for
salmon might be established on the Columbia River, and connected
with the fur trade. He had, accordingly, invested capital in
goods, calculated, as he supposed, for the Indian trade, and had
enlisted a number of eastern men in his employ, who had never
been in the Far West, nor knew anything of the wilderness. With
these, he was bravely steering his way across the continent,
undismayed by danger, difficulty, or distance, in the same way
that a New England coaster and his neighbors will coolly launch
forth on a voyage to the Black Sea, or a whaling cruise to the
Pacific.

With all their national aptitude at expedient and resource, Wyeth
and his men felt themselves completely at a loss when they
reached the frontier, and found that the wilderness required
experience and habitudes of which they were totally deficient.
Not one of the party, excepting the leader, had ever seen an
Indian or handled a rifle; they were without guide or
interpreter, and totally unacquainted with "wood craft" and the
modes of making their way among savage hordes, and subsisting
themselves during long marches over wild mountains and barren
plains.

In this predicament, Captain Sublette found them, in a manner
becalmed, or rather run aground, at the little frontier town of
Independence, in Missouri, and kindly took them in tow. The two
parties travelled amicably together; the frontier men of
Sublette's party gave their Yankee comrades some lessons in
hunting, and some insight into the art and mystery of dealing
with the Indians, and they all arrived without accident at the
upper branches of the Nebraska or Platte River.

In the course of their march, Mr. Fitzpatrick, the partner of the
company who was resident at that time beyond the mountains, came
down from the rendezvous at Pierre's Hole to meet them and hurry
them forward. He travelled in company with them until they
reached the Sweet Water; then taking a couple of horses, one for
the saddle, and the other as a pack-horse, he started off express
for Pierre's Hole, to make arrangements against their arrival,
that he might commence his hunting campaign before the rival
company.

Fitzpatrick was a hardy and experienced mountaineer, and knew all
the passes and defiles. As he was pursuing his lonely course up
the Green River valley, he described several horsemen at a
distance, and came to a halt to reconnoitre. He supposed them to
be some detachment from the rendezvous, or a party of friendly
Indians. They perceived him, and setting up the war-whoop, dashed
forward at full speed: he saw at once his mistake and his
peril--they were Blackfeet. Springing upon his fleetest horse,
and abandoning the other to the enemy, he made for the mountains,
and succeeded in escaping up one of the most dangerous defiles.
Here he concealed himself until he thought the Indians had gone
off, when he returned into the valley. He was again pursued, lost
his remaining horse, and only escaped by scrambling up among the
cliffs. For several days he remained lurking among rocks and
precipices, and almost famished, having but one remaining charge
in his rifle, which he kept for self-defence.

In the meantime, Sublette and Campbell, with their fellow
traveller, Wyeth, had pursued their march unmolested, and arrived
in the Green River valley, totally unconscious that there was any
lurking enemy at hand. They had encamped one night on the banks
of a small stream, which came down from the Wind River Mountains,
when about midnight, a band of Indians burst upon their camp,
with horrible yells and whoops, and a discharge of guns and
arrows. Happily no other harm was done than wounding one mule,
and causing several horses to break loose from their pickets. The
camp was instantly in arms; but the Indians retreated with yells
of exultation, carrying off several of the horses under cover of
the night.

This was somewhat of a disagreeable foretaste of mountain life to
some of Wyeth's band, accustomed only to the regular and peaceful
life of New England; nor was it altogether to the taste of
Captain Sublette's men, who were chiefly creoles and townsmen
from St. Louis. They continued their march the next morning,
keeping scouts ahead and upon their flanks, and arrived without
further molestation at Pierre's Hole.

The first inquiry of Captain Sublette, on reaching the
rendezvous, was for Fitzpatrick. He had not arrived, nor had any
intelligence been received concerning him. Great uneasiness was
now entertained, lest he should have fallen into the hands of the
Blackfeet who had made the midnight attack upon the camp. It was
a matter of general joy, therefore, when he made his appearance,
conducted by two half-breed Iroquois hunters. He had lurked for
several days among the mountains, until almost starved; at length
he escaped the vigilance of his enemies in the night, and was so
fortunate as to meet the two Iroquois hunters, who, being on
horseback, conveyed him without further difficulty to the
rendezvous. He arrived there so emaciated that he could scarcely
be recognized.

The valley called Pierre's Hole is about thirty miles in length
and fifteen in width, bounded to the west and south by low and
broken ridges, and overlooked to the east by three lofty
mountains, called the three Tetons, which domineer as landmarks
over a vast extent of country.

A fine stream, fed by rivulets and mountain springs, pours
through the valley toward the north, dividing it into nearly
equal parts. The meadows on its borders are broad and extensive,
covered with willow and cotton-wood trees, so closely interlocked
and matted together as to be nearly impassable.

In this valley was congregated the motley populace connected with
the fur trade. Here the two rival companies had their
encampments, with their retainers of all kinds: traders,
trappers, hunters, and half-breeds, assembled from all quarters,
awaiting their yearly supplies, and their orders to start off in
new directions. Here, also, the savage tribes connected with the
trade, the Nez Perces or Chopunnish Indians, and Flatheads, had
pitched their lodges beside the streams, and with their squaws,
awaited the distribution of goods and finery. There was,
moreover, a band of fifteen free trappers, commanded by a gallant
leader from Arkansas, named Sinclair, who held their encampment a
little apart from the rest. Such was the wild and heterogeneous
assemblage, amounting to several hundred men, civilized and
savage, distributed in tents and lodges in the several camps.

The arrival of Captain Sublette with supplies put the Rocky
Mountain Fur Company in full activity. The wares and merchandise
were quickly opened, and as quickly disposed of to trappers and
Indians; the usual excitement and revelry took place, after which
all hands began to disperse to their several destinations.

On the 17th of July, a small brigade of fourteen trappers, led by
Milton Sublette, brother of the captain, set out with the
intention of proceeding to the southwest. They were accompanied
by Sinclair and his fifteen free trappers; Wyeth, also, and his
New England band of beaver hunters and salmon fishers, now
dwindled down to eleven, took this opportunity to prosecute their
cruise in the wilderness, accompanied with such experienced
pilots. On the first day, they proceeded about eight miles to the
southeast, and encamped for the night, still in the valley of
Pierre's Hole. On the following morning, just as they were
raising their camp, they observed a long line of people pouring
down a defile of the mountains. They at first supposed them to be
Fontenelle and his party, whose arrival had been daily expected.
Wyeth, however, reconnoitred them with a spy-glass, and soon
perceived they were Indians. They were divided into two parties,
forming, in the whole, about one hundred and fifty persons, men,
women, and children. Some were on horseback, fantastically
painted and arrayed, with scarlet blankets fluttering in the
wind. The greater part, however, were on foot. They had perceived
the trappers before they were themselves discovered, and came
down yelling and whooping into the plain. On nearer approach,
they were ascertained to be Blackfeet.

One of the trappers of Sublette's brigade, a half-breed named
Antoine Godin, now mounted his horse, and rode forth as if to
hold a conference. He was the son of an Iroquois hunter, who had
been cruelly murdered by the Blackfeet at a small stream below
the mountains, which still bears his name. In company with
Antoine rode forth a Flathead Indian, whose once powerful tribe
had been completely broken down in their wars with the Blackfeet.
Both of them, therefore, cherished the most vengeful hostility
against these marauders of the mountains. The Blackfeet came to a
halt. One of the chiefs advanced singly and unarmed, bearing the
pipe of peace. This overture was certainly pacific; but Antoine
and the Flathead were predisposed to hostility, and pretended to
consider it a treacherous movement.

"Is your piece charged?" said Antoine to his red companion.

"It is."

"Then cock it, and follow me."

They met the Blackfoot chief half way, who extended his hand in
friendship. Antoine grasped it.

"Fire! " cried he.

The Flathead levelled his piece, and brought the Blackfoot to the
ground. Antoine snatched off his scarlet blanket, which was
richly ornamented, and galloped off with it as a trophy to the
camp, the bullets of the enemy whistling after him. The Indians
immediately threw themselves into the edge of a swamp, among
willows and cotton-wood trees, interwoven with vines. Here they
began to fortify themselves; the women digging a trench, and
throwing up a breastwork of logs and branches, deep hid in the
bosom of the wood, while the warriors skirmished at the edge to
keep the trappers at bay.

The latter took their station in a ravine in front, whence they
kept up a scattering fire. As to Wyeth, and his little band of
"downeasters," they were perfectly astounded by this second
specimen of life in the wilderness; the men, being especially
unused to bushfighting and the use of the rifle, were at a loss
how to proceed. Wyeth, however, acted as a skilful commander. He
got all his horses into camp and secured them; then, making a
breastwork of his packs of goods, he charged his men to remain in
garrison, and not to stir out of their fort. For himself, he
mingled with the other leaders, determined to take his share in
the conflict.

In the meantime, an express had been sent off to the rendezvous
for reinforcements. Captain Sublette, and his associate,
Campbell, were at their camp when the express came galloping
across the plain, waving his cap, and giving the alarm;
"Blackfeet! Blackfeet! a fight in the upper part of the
valley!--to arms! to arms!"

The alarm was passed from camp to camp. It was a common cause.
Every one turned out with horse and rifle. The Nez Perces and
Flatheads joined. As fast as horseman could arm and mount he
galloped off; the valley was soon alive with white men and red
men scouring at full speed.

Sublette ordered his men to keep to the camp, being recruits from
St. Louis, and unused to Indian warfare. He and his friend
Campbell prepared for action. Throwing off their coats, rolling
up their sleeves, and arming themselves with pistols and rifles,
they mounted their horses and dashed forward among the first. As
they rode along, they made their wills in soldier-like style;
each stating how his effects should be disposed of in case of his
death, and appointing the other his executor.

The Blackfeet warriors had supposed the brigade of Milton
Sublette all the foes they had to deal with, and were astonished
to behold the whole valley suddenly swarming with horsemen,
galloping to the field of action. They withdrew into their fort,
which was completely hid from sight in the dark and tangled wood.
Most of their women and children had retreated to the mountains.
The trappers now sallied forth and approached the swamp, firing
into the thickets at random; the Blackfeet had a better sight at
their adversaries, who were in the open field, and a half-breed
was wounded in the shoulder.

When Captain Sublette arrived, he urged to penetrate the swamp
and storm the fort, but all hung back in awe of the dismal
horrors of the place, and the danger of attacking such
desperadoes in their savage den. The very Indian allies, though
accustomed to bushfighting, regarded it as almost impenetrable,
and full of frightful danger. Sublette was not to be turned from
his purpose, but offered to lead the way into the swamp. Campbell
stepped forward to accompany him. Before entering the perilous
wood, Sublette took his brothers aside, and told them that in
case he fell, Campbell, who knew his will, was to be his
executor. This done, he grasped his rifle and pushed into the
thickets, followed by Campbell. Sinclair, the partisan from
Arkansas, was at the edge of the wood with his brother and a few
of his men. Excited by the gallant example of the two friends, he
pressed forward to share their dangers.

The swamp was produced by the labors of the beaver, which, by
damming up a stream, had inundated a portion of the valley. The
place was all overgrown with woods and thickets, so closely
matted and entangled that it was impossible to see ten paces
ahead, and the three associates in peril had to crawl along, one
after another, making their way by putting the branches and vines
aside; but doing it with caution, lest they should attract the
eye of some lurking marksman. They took the lead by turns, each
advancing about twenty yards at a time, and now and then
hallooing to their men to follow. Some of the latter gradually
entered the swamp, and followed a little distance in their rear.

They had now reached a more open part of the wood, and had
glimpses of the rude fortress from between the trees. It was a
mere breastwork, as we have said, of logs and branches, with
blankets, buffalo robes, and the leathern covers of lodges,
extended round the top as a screen. The movements of the leaders,
as they groped their way, had been descried by the sharp-sighted
enemy. As Sinclair, who was in the advance, was putting some
branches aside, he was shot through the body. He fell on the
spot. "Take me to my brother,'' said he to Campbell. The latter
gave him in charge to some of the men, who conveyed him out of
the swamp.

Sublette now took the advance. As he was reconnoitring the fort,
he perceived an Indian peeping through an aperture. In an instant
his rifle was levelled and discharged, and the ball struck the
savage in the eye. While he was reloading, he called to Campbell,
and pointed out to him the hole; "Watch that place," said he,
"and you will soon have a fair chance for a shot." Scarce had he
uttered the words, when a ball struck him in the shoulder, and
almost wheeled him around. His first thought was to take hold of
his arm with his other hand, and move it up and down. He
ascertained, to his satisfaction, that the bone was not broken.
The next moment he was so faint that he could not stand. Campbell
took him in his arms and carried him out of the thicket. The same
shot that struck Sublette wounded another man in the head.

A brisk fire was now opened by the mountaineers from the wood,
answered occasionally from the fort. Unluckily, the trappers and
their allies, in searching for the fort, had got scattered, so
that Wyeth, and a number of Nez Perces, approached the fort on
the northwest side, while others did the same on the opposite
quarter. A cross-fire thus took place, which occasionally did
mischief to friends as well as foes. An Indian was shot down,
close to Wyeth, by a ball which, he was convinced, had been sped
from the rifle of a trapper on the other side of the fort.

The number of whites and their Indian allies had by this time so
much increased by arrivals from the rendezvous, that the
Blackfeet were completely overmatched. They kept doggedly in
their fort, however, making no offer of surrender. An occasional
firing into the breastwork was kept up during the day. Now and
then, one of the Indian allies, in bravado, would rush up to the
fort, fire over the ramparts, tear off a buffalo robe or a
scarlet blanket, and return with it in triumph to his comrades.
Most of the savage garrison that fell, however, were killed in
the first part of the attack.

At one time it was resolved to set fire to the fort; and the
squaws belonging to the allies were employed to collect
combustibles. This however, was abandoned; the Nez Perces being
unwilling to destroy the robes and blankets, and other spoils of
the enemy, which they felt sure would fall into their hands.

The Indians, when fighting, are prone to taunt and revile each
other. During one of the pauses of the battle, the voice of the
Blackfeet chief was heard.

"So long," said he, "as we had powder and ball, we fought you in
the open field: when those were spent, we retreated here to die
with our women and children. You may burn us in our fort; but,
stay by our ashes, and you who are so hungry for fighting will
soon have enough. There are four hundred lodges of our brethren
at hand. They will soon be here--their arms are strong--their
hearts are big--they will avenge us!"

This speech was translated two or three times by Nez Perce and
creole interpreters. By the time it was rendered into English,
the chief was made to say that four hundred lodges of his tribe
were attacking the encampment at the other end of the valley.
Every one now was for hurrying to the defence of the rendezvous.
A party was left to keep watch upon the fort; the rest galloped
off to the camp. As night came on, the trappers drew out of the
swamp, and remained about the skirts of the wood. By morning,
their companions returned from the rendezvous with the report
that all was safe. As the day opened, they ventured within the
swamp and approached the fort. All was silent. They advanced up
to it without opposition. They entered: it had been abandoned in
the night, and the Blackfeet had effected their retreat, carrying
off their wounded on litters made of branches, leaving bloody
traces on the herbage. The bodies of ten Indians were found
within the fort; among them the one shot in the eye by Sublette.
The Blackfeet afterward reported that they had lost twenty-six
warriors in this battle. Thirty-two horses were likewise found
killed; among them were some of those recently carried off from
Sublette's party, in the night; which showed that these were the
very savages that had attacked him. They proved to be an advance
party of the main body of Blackfeet, which had been upon the
trail of Sublette's party. Five white men and one halfbreed were
killed, and several wounded. Seven of the Nez Perces were also
killed, and six wounded. They had an old chief, who was reputed
as invulnerable. In the course of the action he was hit by a
spent ball, and threw up blood; but his skin was unbroken. His
people were now fully convinced that he was proof against powder
and ball.

A striking circumstance is related as having occurred the morning
after the battle. As some of the trappers and their Indian allies
were approaching the fort through the woods, they beheld an
Indian woman, of noble form and features, leaning against a tree.
Their surprise at her lingering here alone, to fall into the
hands of her enemies, was dispelled, when they saw the corpse of
a warrior at her feet. Either she was so lost in grief as not to
perceive their approach; or a proud spirit kept her silent and
motionless. The Indians set up a yell, on discovering her, and
before the trappers could interfere, her mangled body fell upon
the corpse which she had refused to abandon. We have heard this
anecdote discredited by one of the leaders who had been in the
battle: but the fact may have taken place without his seeing it,
and been concealed from him. It is an instance of female
devotion, even to the death, which we are well disposed to
believe and to record.

After the battle, the brigade of Milton Sublette, together with
the free trappers, and Wyeth's New England band, remained some
days at the rendezvous, to see if the main body of Blackfeet
intended to make an attack; nothing of the kind occurring, they
once more put themselves in motion, and proceeded on their route
toward the southwest. Captain Sublette having distributed his
supplies, had intended to set off on his return to St. Louis,
taking with him the peltries collected from the trappers and
Indians. His wound, however obliged him to postpone his
departure. Several who were to have accompanied him became
impatient of this delay. Among these was a young Bostonian, Mr.
Joseph More, one of the followers of Mr. Wyeth, who had seen
enough of mountain life and savage warfare, and was eager to
return to the abodes of civilization. He and six others, among
whom were a Mr. Foy, of Mississippi, Mr. Alfred K. Stephens, of
St. Louis, and two grandsons of the celebrated Daniel Boon, set
out together, in advance of Sublette's party, thinking they would
make their way through the mountains.

It was just five days after the battle of the swamp that these
seven companions were making their way through Jackson's Hole, a
valley not far from the three Tetons, when, as they were
descending a hill, a party of Blackfeet that lay in ambush
started up with terrific yells. The horse of the young Bostonian,
who was in front, wheeled round with affright, and threw his
unskilled rider. The young man scrambled up the side of the hill,
but, unaccustomed to such wild scenes, lost his presence of mind,
and stood, as if paralyzed, on the edge of a bank, until the
Blackfeet came up and slew him on the spot. His comrades had fled
on the first alarm; but two of them, Foy and Stephens, seeing his
danger, paused when they got half way up the hill, turned back,
dismounted, and hastened to his assistance. Foy was instantly
killed. Stephens was severely wounded, but escaped, to die five
days afterward. The survivors returned to the camp of Captain
Sublette, bringing tidings of this new disaster. That hardy
leader, as soon as he could bear the journey, set out on his
return to St. Louis, accompanied by Campbell. As they had a
number of pack-horses richly laden with peltries to convoy, they
chose a different route through the mountains, out of the way, as
they hoped, of the lurking bands of Blackfeet. They succeeded in
making the frontier in safety. We remember to have seen them with
their band, about two or three months afterward, passing through
a skirt of woodland in the upper part of Missouri. Their long
cavalcade stretched in single file for nearly half a mile.
Sublette still wore his arm in a sling. The mountaineers in their
rude hunting dresses, armed with rifles and roughly mounted, and
leading their pack-horses down a hill of the forest, looked like
banditti returning with plunder. On the top of some of the packs
were perched several half-breed children, perfect little imps,
with wild black eyes glaring from among elf locks. These, I was
told, were children of the trappers; pledges of love from their
squaw spouses in the wilderness.

                              7.
                                
  Retreat of the Blackfeet Fontenelle's camp in danger Captain
  Bonneville and the Blackfeet  Free trappers Their character,
habits, dress, equipments, horses Game fellows of the mountains
   Their visit to the camp Good fellowship and good cheer  A
        carouse A swagger, a brawl, and a reconciliation

THE BLACKFEET WARRIORS, when they effected their midnight retreat
from their wild fastness in Pierre's Hole, fell back into the
valley of the Seeds-ke-dee, or Green River where they joined the
main body of their band. The whole force amounted to several
hundred fighting men, gloomy and exasperated by their late
disaster. They had with them their wives and children, which
incapacitated them from any bold and extensive enterprise of a
warlike nature; but when, in the course of their wanderings they
came in sight of the encampment of Fontenelle, who had moved some
distance up Green River valley in search of the free trappers,
they put up tremendous war-cries, and advanced fiercely as if to
attack it. Second thoughts caused them to moderate their fury.
They recollected the severe lesson just received, and could not
but remark the strength of Fontenelle's position; which had been
chosen with great judgment.

A formal talk ensued. The Blackfeet said nothing of the late
battle, of which Fontenelle had as yet received no accounts; the
latter, however, knew the hostile and perfidious nature of these
savages, and took care to inform them of the encampment of
Captain Bonneville, that they might know there were more white
men in the neighborhood. The conference ended, Fontenelle sent a
Delaware Indian of his party to conduct fifteen of the Blackfeet
to the camp of Captain Bonneville. There was [sic] at that time
two Crow Indians in the captain's camp, who had recently arrived
there. They looked with dismay at this deputation from their
implacable enemies, and gave the captain a terrible character of
them, assuring him that the best thing he could possibly do, was
to put those Blackfeet deputies to death on the spot. The
captain, however, who had heard nothing of the conflict at
Pierre's Hole, declined all compliance with this sage counsel. He
treated the grim warriors with his usual urbanity. They passed
some little time at the camp; saw, no doubt, that everything was
conducted with military skill and vigilance; and that such an
enemy was not to be easily surprised, nor to be molested with
impunity, and then departed, to report all that they had seen to
their comrades.

The two scouts which Captain Bonneville had sent out to seek for
the band of free trappers, expected by Fontenelle, and to invite
them to his camp, had been successful in their search, and on the
12th of August those worthies made their appearance.

To explain the meaning of the appellation, free trapper, it is
necessary to state the terms on which the men enlist in the
service of the fur companies. Some have regular wages, and are
furnished with weapons, horses, traps, and other requisites.
These are under command, and bound to do every duty required of
them connected with the service; such as hunting, trapping,
loading and unloading the horses, mounting guard; and, in short,
all the drudgery of the camp. These are the hired trappers.

The free trappers are a more independent class; and in describing
them, we shall do little more than transcribe the graphic
description of them by Captain Bonneville. "They come and go,"
says he, "when and where they please; provide their own horses,
arms, and other equipments; trap and trade on their own account,
and dispose of their skins and peltries to the highest bidder.
Sometimes, in a dangerous hunting ground, they attach themselves
to the camp of some trader for protection. Here they come under
some restrictions; they have to conform to the ordinary rules for
trapping, and to submit to such restraints, and to take part in
such general duties, as are established for the good order and
safety of the camp. In return for this protection, and for their
camp keeping, they are bound to dispose of all the beaver they
take, to the trader who commands the camp, at a certain rate per
skin; or, should they prefer seeking a market elsewhere, they are
to make him an allowance, of from thirty to forty dollars for the
whole hunt."

There is an inferior order, who, either from prudence or poverty,
come to these dangerous hunting grounds without horses or
accoutrements, and are furnished by the traders. These, like the
hired trappers, are bound to exert themselves to the utmost in
taking beaver, which, without skinning, they render in at the
trader's lodge, where a stipulated price for each is placed to
their credit. These though generally included in the generic name
of free trappers, have the more specific title of skin trappers.

The wandering whites who mingle for any length of time with the
savages have invariably a proneness to adopt savage habitudes;
but none more so than the free trappers. It is a matter of vanity
and ambition with them to discard everything that may bear the
stamp of civilized life, and to adopt the manners, habits, dress,
gesture, and even walk of the Indian. You cannot pay a free
trapper a greater compliment, than to persuade him you have
mistaken him for an Indian brave; and, in truth, the counterfeit
is complete. His hair suffered to attain to a great length, is
carefully combed out, and either left to fall carelessly over his
shoulders, or plaited neatly and tied up in otter skins, or
parti-colored ribands. A hunting-shirt of ruffled calico of
bright dyes, or of ornamented leather, falls to his knee; below
which, curiously fashioned legging, ornamented with strings,
fringes, and a profusion of hawks' bells, reach to a costly pair
of moccasons of the finest Indian fabric, richly embroidered with
beads. A blanket of scarlet, or some other bright color, hangs
from his shoulders, and is girt around his waist with a red sash,
in which he bestows his pistols, knife, and the stem of his
Indian pipe; preparations either for peace or war. His gun is
lavishly decorated with brass tacks and vermilion, and provided
with a fringed cover, occasionally of buckskin, ornamented here
and there with a feather. His horse, the noble minister to the
pride, pleasure, and profit of the mountaineer, is selected for
his speed and spirit, and prancing gait, and holds a place in his
estimation second only to himself. He shares largely of his
bounty, and of his pride and pomp of trapping. He is caparisoned
in the most dashing and fantastic style; the bridles and crupper
are weightily embossed with beads and cockades; and head, mane,
and tail, are interwoven with abundance of eagles' plumes, which
flutter in the wind. To complete this grotesque equipment, the
proud animal is bestreaked and bespotted with vermilion, or with
white clay, whichever presents the most glaring contrast to his
real color.

Such is the account given by Captain Bonneville of these rangers
of the wilderness, and their appearance at the camp was
strikingly characteristic. They came dashing forward at full
speed, firing their fusees, and yelling in Indian style. Their
dark sunburned faces, and long flowing hair, their legging,
flaps, moccasons, and richly-dyed blankets, and their painted
horses gaudily caparisoned, gave them so much the air and
appearance of Indians, that it was difficult to persuade one's
self that they were white men, and had been brought up in
civilized life.

Captain Bonneville, who was delighted with the game look of these
cavaliers of the mountains, welcomed them heartily to his camp,
and ordered a free allowance of grog to regale them, which soon
put them in the most braggart spirits. They pronounced the
captain the finest fellow in the world, and his men all bons
gar‡ons, jovial lads, and swore they would pass the day with
them. They did so; and a day it was, of boast, and swagger, and
rodomontade. The prime bullies and braves among the free trappers
had each his circle of novices, from among the captain's band;
mere greenhorns, men unused to Indian life; mangeurs de lard, or
pork-eaters; as such new-comers are superciliously called by the
veterans of the wilderness. These he would astonish and delight
by the hour, with prodigious tales of his doings among the
Indians; and of the wonders he had seen, and the wonders he had
performed, in his adventurous peregrinations among the mountains.

In the evening, the free trappers drew off, and returned to the
camp of Fontenelle, highly delighted with their visit and with
their new acquaintances, and promising to return the following
day. They kept their word: day after day their visits were
repeated; they became "hail fellow well met" with Captain
Bonneville's men; treat after treat succeeded, until both parties
got most potently convinced, or rather confounded, by liquor. Now
came on confusion and uproar. The free trappers were no longer
suffered to have all the swagger to themselves. The camp bullies
and prime trappers of the party began to ruffle up, and to brag,
in turn, of their perils and achievements. Each now tried to
out-boast and out-talk the other; a quarrel ensued as a matter of
course, and a general fight, according to frontier usage. The two
factions drew out their forces for a pitched battle. They fell to
work and belabored each other with might and main; kicks and
cuffs and dry blows were as well bestowed as they were well
merited, until, having fought to their hearts' content, and been
drubbed into a familiar acquaintance with each other's prowess
and good qualities, they ended the fight by becoming firmer
friends than they could have been rendered by a year's peaceable
companionship.

While Captain Bonneville amused himself by observing the habits
and characteristics of this singular class of men, and indulged
them, for the time, in all their vagaries, he profited by the
opportunity to collect from them information concerning the
different parts of the country about which they had been
accustomed to range; the characters of the tribes, and, in short,
everything important to his enterprise. He also succeeded in
securing the services of several to guide and aid him in his
peregrinations among the mountains, and to trap for him during
the ensuing season. Having strengthened his party with such
valuable recruits, he felt in some measure consoled for the loss
of the Delaware Indians, decoyed from him by Mr Fontenelle.

                               8.
                                
Plans for the winter Salmon River Abundance of salmon west of the
mountains New arrangements  Caches Cerre's detachment Movements
     in Fontenelle's camp Departure of the Blackfeet Their
fortunes Wind Mountain streams Buckeye, the Delaware hunter, and
the grizzly bear Bones of murdered travellers Visit to Pierre's
Hole Traces of the battle Nez Perce Indians Arrival at Salmon
                             River

THE INFORMATION derived from the free trappers determined Captain
Bonneville as to his further movements. He learned that in the
Green River valley the winters were severe, the snow frequently
falling to the depth of several feet; and that there was no good
wintering ground in the neighborhood. The upper part of Salmon
River was represented as far more eligible, besides being in an
excellent beaver country; and thither the captain resolved to
bend his course.

The Salmon River is one of the upper branches of the Oregon or
Columbia; and takes its rise from various sources, among a group
of mountains to the northwest of the Wind River chain. It owes
its name to the immense shoals of salmon which ascend it in the
months of September and October. The salmon on the west side of
the Rocky Mountains are, like the buffalo on the eastern plains,
vast migratory supplies for the wants of man, that come and go
with the seasons. As the buffalo in countless throngs find their
certain way in the transient pasturage on the prairies, along the
fresh banks of the rivers, and up every valley and green defile
of the mountains, so the salmon, at their allotted seasons,
regulated by a sublime and all-seeing Providence, swarm in
myriads up the great rivers, and find their way up their main
branches, and into the minutest tributory streams; so as to
pervade the great arid plains, and to penetrate even among barren
mountains. Thus wandering tribes are fed in the desert places of
the wilderness, where there is no herbage for the animals of the
chase, and where, but for these periodical supplies, it would be
impossible for man to subsist.

The rapid currents of the rivers which run into the Pacific
render the ascent of them very exhausting to the salmon. When the
fish first run up the rivers, they are fat and in fine order. The
struggle against impetuous streams and frequent rapids gradually
renders them thin and weak, and great numbers are seen floating
down the rivers on their backs. As the season advances and the
water becomes chilled, they are flung in myriads on the shores,
where the wolves and bears assemble to banquet on them. Often
they rot in such quantities along the river banks as to taint the
atmosphere. They are commonly from two to three feet long.

Captain Bonneville now made his arrangements for the autumn and
the winter. The nature of the country through which he was about
to travel rendered it impossible to proceed with wagons. He had
more goods and supplies of various kinds, also, than were
required for present purposes, or than could be conveniently
transported on horseback; aided, therefore, by a few confidential
men, he made caches, or secret pits, during the night, when all
the rest of the camp were asleep, and in these deposited the
superfluous effects, together with the wagons. All traces of the
caches were then carefully obliterated. This is a common
expedient with the traders and trappers of the mountains. Having
no established posts and magazines, they make these caches or
deposits at certain points, whither they repair, occasionally,
for supplies. It is an expedient derived from the wandering
tribes of Indians.

Many of the horses were still so weak and lame, as to be unfit
for a long scramble through the mountains. These were collected
into one cavalcade, and given in charge to an experienced
trapper, of the name of Matthieu. He was to proceed westward,
with a brigade of trappers, to Bear River;  a stream to the west
of the Green River or Colorado, where there was good pasturage
for the horses. In this neighborhood it was expected he would
meet the Shoshonie villages or bands, on their yearly migrations,
with whom he was to trade for peltries and provisions. After he
had traded with these people, finished his trapping, and
recruited the strength of the horses, he was to proceed to Salmon
River and rejoin Captain Bonneville, who intended to fix his
quarters there for the winter.

While these arrangements were in progress in the camp of Captain
Bonneville, there was a sudden bustle and stir in the camp of
Fontenelle. One of the partners of the American Fur Company had
arrived, in all haste, from the rendezvous at Pierre's Hole, in
quest of the supplies. The competition between the two rival
companies was just now at its height, and prosecuted with unusual
zeal. The tramontane concerns of the Rocky Mountain Fur Company
were managed by two resident partners, Fitzpatrick and Bridger;
those of the American Fur Company, by Vanderburgh and Dripps. The
latter were ignorant of the mountain regions, but trusted to make
up by vigilance and activity for their want of knowledge of the
country.

Fitzpatrick, an experienced trader and trapper, knew the evils of
competition in the same hunting grounds, and had proposed that
the two companies should divide the country, so as to hunt in
different directions: this proposition being rejected, he had
exerted himself to get first into the field. His exertions, as
have already been shown, were effectual. The early arrival of
Sublette, with supplies, had enabled the various brigades of the
Rocky Mountain Company to start off to their respective hunting
grounds. Fitzpatrick himself, with his associate, Bridger, had
pushed off with a strong party of trappers, for a prime beaver
country to the north-northwest.

This had put Vanderburgh upon his mettle. He had hastened on to
meet Fontenelle. Finding him at his camp in Green River valley,
he immediately furnished himself with the supplies; put himself
at the head of the free trappers and Delawares, and set off with
all speed, determined to follow hard upon the heels of
Fitzpatrick and Bridger. Of the adventures of these parties among
the mountains, and the disastrous effects of their competition,
we shall have occasion to treat in a future chapter.

Fontenelle having now delivered his supplies and accomplished his
errand, struck his tents and set off on his return to the
Yellowstone. Captain Bonneville and his band, therefore, remained
alone in the Green River valley; and their situation might have
been perilous, had the Blackfeet band still lingered in the
vicinity. Those marauders, however, had been dismayed at finding
so many resolute and well-appointed parties of white men in the
neighborhood. They had, therefore, abandoned this part of the
country, passing over the headwaters of the Green River, and
bending their course towards the Yellowstone. Misfortune pursued
them. Their route lay through the country of their deadly
enemies, the Crows. In the Wind River valley, which lies east of
the mountains, they were encountered by a powerful war party of
that tribe, and completely put to rout. Forty of them were
killed, many of their women and children captured, and the
scattered fugitives hunted like wild beasts until they were
completely chased out of the Crow country.

On the 22d of August Captain Bonneville broke up his camp, and
set out on his route for Salmon River. His baggage was arranged
in packs, three to a mule, or pack-horse; one being disposed on
each side of the animal and one on the top; the three forming a
load of from one hundred and eighty to two hundred and twenty
pounds. This is the trappers' style of loading pack-horses; his
men, however, were inexpert at adjusting the packs, which were
prone to get loose and slip off, so that it was necessary to keep
a rear-guard to assist in reloading. A few days' experience,
however, brought them into proper training.

Their march lay up the valley of the Seeds-ke-dee, overlooked to
the right by the lofty peaks of the Wind River Mountains. From
bright little lakes and fountain-heads of this remarkable bed of
mountains poured forth the tributary streams of the Seeds-ke-dee.
Some came rushing down gullies and ravines; others tumbled in
crystal cascades from inaccessible clefts and rocks, and others
winding their way in rapid and pellucid currents across the
valley, to throw themselves into the main river. So transparent
were these waters that the trout with which they abounded could
be seen gliding about as if in the air; and their pebbly beds
were distinctly visible at the depth of many feet. This beautiful
and diaphanous quality of the Rocky Mountain streams prevails for
a long time after they have mingled their waters and swollen into
important rivers.

Issuing from the upper part of the valley, Captain Bonneville
continued to the east-northeast, across rough and lofty ridges,
and deep rocky defiles, extremely fatiguing both to man and
horse. Among his hunters was a Delaware Indian who had remained
faithful to him. His name was Buckeye. He had often prided
himself on his skill and success in coping with the grizzly bear,
that terror of the hunters. Though crippled in the left arm, he
declared he had no hesitation to close with a wounded bear, and
attack him with a sword. If armed with a rifle, he was willing to
brave the animal when in full force and fury. He had twice an
opportunity of proving his prowess, in the course of this
mountain journey, and was each time successful. His mode was to
seat himself upon the ground, with his rifle cocked and resting
on his lame arm. Thus prepared, he would await the approach of
the bear with perfect coolness, nor pull trigger until he was
close at hand. In each instance, he laid the monster dead upon
the spot.

A march of three or four days, through savage and lonely scenes,
brought Captain Bonneville to the fatal defile of Jackson's Hole,
where poor More and Foy had been surprised and murdered by the
Blackfeet. The feelings of the captain were shocked at beholding
the bones of these unfortunate young men bleaching among the
rocks; and he caused them to be decently interred.

On the 3d of September he arrived on the summit of a mountain
which commanded a full view of the eventful valley of Pierre's
Hole; whence he could trace the winding of its stream through
green meadows, and forests of willow and cotton-wood, and have a
prospect, between distant mountains, of the lava plains of Snake
River, dimly spread forth like a sleeping ocean below.

After enjoying this magnificent prospect, he descended into the
valley, and visited the scenes of the late desperate conflict.
There were the remains of the rude fortress in the swamp,
shattered by rifle shot, and strewed with the mingled bones of
savages and horses. There was the late populous and noisy
rendezvous, with the traces of trappers' camps and Indian lodges;
but their fires were extinguished, the motley assemblage of
trappers and hunters, white traders and Indian braves, had all
dispersed to different points of the wilderness, and the valley
had relapsed into its pristine solitude and silence.

That night the captain encamped upon the battle ground; the next
day he resumed his toilsome peregrinations through the mountains.
For upwards of two weeks he continued his painful march; both men
and horses suffering excessively at times from hunger and thirst.
At length, on the 19th of September, he reached the upper waters
of Salmon River.

The weather was cold, and there were symptoms of an impending
storm. The night set in, but Buckeye, the Delaware Indian, was
missing. He had left the party early in the morning, to hunt by
himself, according to his custom. Fears were entertained lest he
should lose his way and become bewildered in tempestuous weather.
These fears increased on the following morning, when a violent
snow-storm came on, which soon covered the earth to the depth of
several inches. Captain Bonneville immediately encamped, and sent
out scouts in every direction. After some search Buckeye was
discovered, quietly seated at a considerable distance in the
rear, waiting the expected approach of the party, not knowing
that they had passed, the snow having covered their trail.

On the ensuing morning they resumed their march at an early hour,
but had not proceeded far when the hunters, who were beating up
the country in the advance, came galloping back, making signals
to encamp, and crying Indians! Indians!

Captain Bonneville immediately struck into a skirt of wood and
prepared for action. The savages were now seen trooping over the
hills in great numbers. One of them left the main body and came
forward singly, making signals of peace. He announced them as a
band of Nez Perces or Pierced-nose Indians, friendly to the
whites, whereupon an invitation was returned by Captain
Bonneville for them to come and encamp with him. They halted for
a short time to make their toilette, an operation as important
with an Indian warrior as with a fashionable beauty. This done,
they arranged themselves in martial style, the chiefs leading the
van, the braves following in a long line, painted and decorated,
and topped off with fluttering plumes. In this way they advanced,
shouting and singing, firing off their fusees, and clashing their
shields. The two parties encamped hard by each other. The Nez
Perces were on a hunting expedition, but had been almost famished
on their march. They had no provisions left but a few dried
salmon, yet finding the white men equally in want, they
generously offered to share even this meager pittance, and
frequently repeated the offer, with an earnestness that left no
doubt of their sincerity. Their generosity won the heart of
Captain Bonneville, and produced the most cordial good will on
the part of his men. For two days that the parties remained in
company, the most amicable intercourse prevailed, and they parted
the best of friends. Captain Bonneville detached a few men, under
Mr. Cerre, an able leader, to accompany the Nez Perces on their
hunting expedition, and to trade with them for meat for the
winter's supply. After this, he proceeded down the river, about
five miles below the forks, when he came to a halt on the 26th of
September, to establish his winter quarters.

                              9.
                                
  Horses turned loose Preparations for winter quarters Hungry
times Nez Perces, their honesty, piety, pacific habits, religious
ceremonies Captain Bonneville's conversations with them Their
                       love of gambling

IT WAS GRATIFYING to Captain Bonneville, after so long and
toilsome a course of travel, to relieve his poor jaded horses of
the burden under which they were almost ready to give out, and to
behold them rolling upon the grass, and taking a long repose
after all their sufferings. Indeed, so exhausted were they, that
those employed under the saddle were no longer capable of hunting
for the daily subsistence of the camp.

All hands now set to work to prepare a winter cantonment. A
temporary fortification was thrown up for the protection of the
party; a secure and comfortable pen, into which the horses could
be driven at night; and huts were built for the reception of the
merchandise.

This done, Captain Bonneville made a distribution of his forces:
twenty men were to remain with him in garrison to protect the
property; the rest were organized into three brigades, and sent
off in different directions, to subsist themselves by hunting the
buffalo, until the snow should become too deep.

Indeed, it would have been impossible to provide for the whole
party in this neighborhood. It was at the extreme western limit
of the buffalo range, and these animals had recently been
completely hunted out of the neighborhood by the Nez Perces, so
that, although the hunters of the garrison were continually on
the alert, ranging the country round, they brought in scarce game
sufficient to keep famine from the door. Now and then there was a
scanty meal of fish or wild-fowl, occasionally an antelope; but
frequently the cravings of hunger had to be appeased with roots,
or the flesh of wolves and muskrats. Rarely could the inmates of
the cantonment boast of having made a full meal, and never of
having wherewithal for the morrow. In this way they starved along
until the 8th of October, when they were joined by a party of
five families of Nez Perces, who in some measure reconciled them
to the hardships of their situation by exhibiting a lot still
more destitute. A more forlorn set they had never encountered:
they had not a morsel of meat or fish; nor anything to subsist
on, excepting roots, wild rosebuds, the barks of certain plants,
and other vegetable production; neither had they any weapon for
hunting or defence, excepting an old spear: yet the poor fellows
made no murmur nor complaint; but seemed accustomed to their hard
fare. If they could not teach the white men their practical
stoicism, they at least made them acquainted with the edible
properties of roots and wild rosebuds, and furnished them a
supply from their own store. The necessities of the camp at
length became so urgent that Captain Bonneville determined to
dispatch a party to the Horse Prairie, a plain to the north of
his cantonment, to procure a supply of provisions. When the men
were about to depart, he proposed to the Nez Perces that they, or
some of them, should join the hunting-party. To his surprise,
they promptly declined. He inquired the reason for their refusal,
seeing that they were in nearly as starving a situation as his
own people. They replied that it was a sacred day with them, and
the Great Spirit would be angry should they devote it to hunting.
They offered, however, to accompany the party if it would delay
its departure until the following day; but this the pinching
demands of hunger would not permit, and the detachment proceeded.

A few days afterward, four of them signified to Captain
Bonneville that they were about to hunt. "What! " exclaimed he,
"without guns or arrows; and with only one old spear? What do you
expect to kill? " They smiled among themselves, but made no
answer. Preparatory to the chase, they performed some religious
rites, and offered up to the Great Spirit a few short prayers for
safety and success; then, having received the blessings of their
wives, they leaped upon their horses and departed, leaving the
whole party of Christian spectators amazed and rebuked by this
lesson of faith and dependence on a supreme and benevolent Being.
"Accustomed," adds Captain Bonneville, "as I had heretofore been,
to find the wretched Indian revelling in blood, and stained by
every vice which can degrade human nature, I could scarcely
realize the scene which I had witnessed. Wonder at such
unaffected tenderness and piety, where it was least to have been
sought, contended in all our bosoms with shame and confusion, at
receiving such pure and wholesome instructions from creatures so
far below us in the arts and comforts of life." The simple
prayers of the poor Indians were not unheard. In the course of
four or five days they returned, laden with meat. Captain
Bonneville was curious to know how they had attained such success
with such scanty means. They gave him to understand that they had
chased the buffalo at full speed, until they tired them down,
when they easily dispatched them with the spear, and made use of
the same weapon to flay the carcasses. To carry through their
lessons to their Christian friends, the poor savages were as
charitable as they had been pious, and generously shared with
them the spoils of their hunting, giving them food enough to last
for several days.

A further and more intimate intercourse with this tribe gave
Captain Bonneville still greater cause to admire their strong
devotional feeling. "Simply to call these people religious," says
he, "would convey but a faint idea of the deep hue of piety and
devotion which pervades their whole conduct. Their honesty is
immaculate, and their purity of purpose, and their observance of
the rites of their religion, are most uniform and remarkable.
They are, certainly, more like a nation of saints than a horde of
savages."

In fact, the antibelligerent policy of this tribe may have sprung
from the doctrines of Christian charity, for it would appear that
they had imbibed some notions of the Christian faith from
Catholic missionaries and traders who had been among them. They
even had a rude calendar of the fasts and festivals of the Romish
Church, and some traces of its ceremonials. These have become
blended with their own wild rites, and present a strange medley;
civilized and barbarous. On the Sabbath, men, women, and children
array themselves in their best style, and assemble round a pole
erected at the head of the camp. Here they go through a wild
fantastic ceremonial; strongly resembling the religious dance of
the Shaking Quakers; but from its enthusiasm, much more striking
and impressive. During the intervals of the ceremony, the
principal chiefs, who officiate as priests, instruct them in
their duties, and exhort them to virtue and good deeds.

"There is something antique and patriarchal," observes Captain
Bonneville, "in this union of the offices of leader and priest;
as there is in many of their customs and manners, which are all
strongly imbued with religion."

The worthy captain, indeed, appears to have been strongly
interested by this gleam of unlooked for light amidst the
darkness of the wilderness. He exerted himself, during his
sojourn among this simple and well-disposed people, to inculcate,
as far as he was able, the gentle and humanizing precepts of the
Christian faith, and to make them acquainted with the leading
points of its history; and it speaks highly for the purity and
benignity of his heart, that he derived unmixed happiness from
the task.

"Many a time," says he, "was my little lodge thronged, or rather
piled with hearers, for they lay on the ground, one leaning over
the other, until there was no further room, all listening with
greedy ears to the wonders which the Great Spirit had revealed to
the white man. No other subject gave them half the satisfaction,
or commanded half the attention; and but few scenes in my life
remain so freshly on my memory, or are so pleasurably recalled to
my contemplation, as these hours of intercourse with a distant
and benighted race in the midst of the desert."

The only excesses indulged in by this temperate and exemplary
people, appear to be gambling and horseracing. In these they
engage with an eagerness that amounts to infatuation. Knots of
gamblers will assemble before one of their lodge fires, early in
the evening, and remain absorbed in the chances and changes of
the game until long after dawn of the following day. As the night
advances, they wax warmer and warmer. Bets increase in amount,
one loss only serves to lead to a greater, until in the course of
a single night's gambling, the richest chief may become the
poorest varlet in the camp.

                              10.
                                
        Black feet in the Horse Prairie Search after the
      hunters Difficulties and dangers A card party in the
  wilderness The card party interrupted "Old Sledge" a losing
game Visitors to the camp Iroquois hunters Hanging-eared Indians.

ON the 12th of October, two young Indians of the Nez Perce tribe
arrived at Captain Bonneville's encampment. They were on their
way homeward, but had been obliged to swerve from their ordinary
route through the mountains, by deep snows. Their new route took
them though the Horse Prairie. In traversing it, they had been
attracted by the distant smoke of a camp fire, and on stealing
near to reconnoitre, had discovered a war party of Blackfeet.
They had several horses with them; and, as they generally go on
foot on warlike excursions, it was concluded that these horses
had been captured in the course of their maraudings.

This intelligence awakened solicitude on the mind of Captain
Bonneville for the party of hunters whom he had sent to that
neighborhood; and the Nez Perces, when informed of the
circumstances, shook their heads, and declared their belief that
the horses they had seen had been stolen from that very party.
Anxious for information on the subject, Captain Bonneville
dispatched two hunters to beat up the country in that direction.
They searched in vain; not a trace of the men could be found; but
they got into a region destitute of game, where they were
well-nigh famished. At one time they were three entire days
with-out a mouthful of food; at length they beheld a buffalo
grazing at the foot of the mountain. After manoeuvring so as to
get within shot, they fired, but merely wounded him. He took to
flight, and they followed him over hill and dale, with the
eagerness and per-severance of starving men. A more lucky shot
brought him to the ground. Stanfield sprang upon him, plunged his
knife into his throat, and allayed his raging hunger by drinking
his blood: A fire was instantly kindled beside the carcass, when
the two hunters cooked, and ate again and again, until, perfectly
gorged, they sank to sleep before their hunting fire. On the
following morning they rose early, made another hearty meal, then
loading themselves with buffalo meat, set out on their return to
the camp, to report the fruitlessness of their mission.

At length, after six weeks' absence, the hunters made their
appearance, and were received with joy proportioned to the
anxiety that had been felt on their account. They had hunted with
success on the prairie, but, while busy drying buffalo meat, were
joined by a few panic - stricken Flatheads, who informed them
that a powerful band of Blackfeet was at hand. The hunters
immediately abandoned the dangerous hunting ground, and
accompanied the Flatheads to their village. Here they found Mr.
Cerre, and the detachment of hunters sent with him to accompany
the hunting party of the Nez Perces.

After remaining some time at the village, until they supposed the
Blackfeet to have left the neighborhood, they set off with some
of Mr. Cerre's men for the cantonment at Salmon River, where they
arrived without accident. They informed Captain Bonneville,
however, that not far from his quarters they had found a wallet
of fresh meat and a cord, which they supposed had been left by
some prowling Blackfeet. A few days afterward Mr. Cerre, with the
remainder of his men, likewise arrived at the cantonment.

Mr. Walker, one of his subleaders, who had gone with a band of
twenty hunters to range the country just beyond the Horse
Prairie, had likewise his share of adventures with the
all-pervading Blackfeet. At one of his encampments the guard
stationed to keep watch round the camp grew weary of their duty,
and feeling a little too secure, and too much at home on these
prairies, retired to a small grove of willows to amuse themselves
with a social game of cards called "old sledge," which is as
popular among these trampers of the prairies as whist or ecarte
among the polite circles of the cities. From the midst of their
sport they were suddenly roused by a discharge of firearms and a
shrill war-whoop. Starting on their feet, and snatching up their
rifles, they beheld in dismay their horses and mules already in
possession of the enemy, who had stolen upon the camp
unperceived, while they were spell-bound by the magic of old
sledge. The Indians sprang upon the animals barebacked, and
endeavored to urge them off under a galling fire that did some
execution. The mules, however, confounded by the hurly-burly and
disliking their new riders kicked up their heels and dismounted
half of them, in spite of their horsemanship. This threw the rest
into confusion; they endeavored to protect their unhorsed
comrades from the furious assaults of the whites; but, after a
scene of "confusion worse confounded," horses and mules were
abandoned, and the Indians betook themselves to the bushes. Here
they quickly scratched holes in the earth about two feet deep, in
which they prostrated themselves, and while thus screened from
the shots of the white men, were enabled to make such use of
their bows and arrows and fusees, as to repulse their assailants
and to effect their retreat. This adventure threw a temporary
stigma upon the game of "old sledge."

In the course of the autumn, four Iroquois hunters, driven by the
snow from their hunting grounds, made their appearance at the
cantonment. They were kindly welcomed, and during their sojourn
made themselves useful in a variety of ways, being excellent
trappers and first-rate woodsmen. They were of the remnants of a
party of Iroquois hunters that came from Canada into these
mountain regions many years previously, in the employ of the
Hudson's Bay Company. They were led by a brave chieftain, named
Pierre, who fell by the hands of the Blackfeet, and gave his name
to the fated valley of Pierre's Hole. This branch of the Iroquois
tribe has ever since remained among these mountains, at mortal
enmity with the Blackfeet, and have lost many of their prime
hunters in their feuds with that ferocious race. Some of them
fell in with General Ashley, in the course of one of his gallant
excursions into the wilderness, and have continued ever since in
the employ of the company.

Among the motley Visitors to the winter quarters of Captain
Bonneville was a party of Pends Oreilles (or Hanging-ears) and
their chief. These Indians have a strong resemblance, in
character and customs, to the Nez Perces. They amount to about
three hundred lodges, are well armed, and possess great numbers
of horses. During the spring, summer, and autumn, they hunt the
buffalo about the head-waters of the Missouri, Henry's Fork of
the Snake River, and the northern branches of Salmon River. Their
winter quarters are upon the Racine Amere, where they subsist
upon roots and dried buffalo meat. Upon this river the Hudson's
Bay Company have established a trading post, where the Pends
Oreilles and the Flatheads bring their peltries to exchange for
arms, clothing and trinkets.

This tribe, like the Nez Perces, evince strong and peculiar
feelings of natural piety. Their religion is not a mere
superstitious fear, like that of most savages; they evince
abstract notions of morality; a deep reverence for an overruling
spirit, and a respect for the rights of their fellow men. In one
respect their religion partakes of the pacific doctrines of the
Quakers. They hold that the Great Spirit is displeased with all
nations who wantonly engage in war; they abstain, therefore, from
all aggressive hostilities. But though thus unoffending in their
policy, they are called upon continually to wage defensive
warfare; especially with the Blackfeet; with whom, in the course
of their hunting expeditions, they come in frequent collision and
have desperate battles. Their conduct as warriors is without fear
or reproach, and they can never be driven to abandon their
hunting grounds.

Like most savages they are firm believers in dreams, and in the
power and efficacy of charms and amulets, or medicines as they
term them. Some of their braves, also, who have had numerous
hairbreadth 'scapes, like the old Nez Perce chief in the battle
of Pierre's Hole, are believed to wear a charmed life, and to be
bullet-proof. Of these gifted beings marvelous anecdotes are
related, which are most potently believed by their fellow
savages, and sometimes almost credited by the white hunters.

                               11
                                
Rival trapping parties Manoeuvring A desperate game Vanderburgh
  and the Blackfeet Deserted camp fire A dark defile An Indian
    ambush A fierce melee Fatal consequences Fitzpatrick and
  Bridger Trappers precautions Meeting with the Blackfeet More
    fighting Anecdote of a young Mexican and an Indian girl.

WHILE Captain Bonneville and his men are sojourning among the Nez
Perces, on Salmon River, we will inquire after the fortunes of
those doughty rivals of the Rocky Mountains and American Fur
Companies, who started off for the trapping grounds to the
north-northwest.

Fitzpatrick and Bridger, of the former company, as we have
already shown, having received their supplies, had taken the
lead, and hoped to have the first sweep of the hunting grounds.
Vanderburgh and Dripps, however, the two resident partners of the
opposite company, by extraordinary exertions were enabled soon to
put themselves upon their traces, and pressed forward with such
speed as to overtake them just as they had reached the heart of
the beaver country. In fact, being ignorant of the best trapping
grounds, it was their object to follow on, and profit by the
superior knowledge of the other party.

Nothing could equal the chagrin of Fitzpatrick and Bridger at
being dogged by their inexperienced rivals, especially after
their offer to divide the country with them. They tried in every
way to blind and baffle them; to steal a march upon them, or lead
them on a wrong scent; but all in vain. Vanderburgh made up by
activity and intelligence for his ignorance of the country; was
always wary, always on the alert; discovered every movement of
his rivals, however secret and was not to be eluded or misled.

Fitzpatrick and his colleague now lost all patience; since the
others persisted in following them, they determined to give them
an unprofitable chase, and to sacrifice the hunting season rather
than share the products with their rivals. They accordingly took
up their line of march down the course of the Missouri, keeping
the main Blackfoot trail, and tramping doggedly forward, without
stopping to set a single trap. The others beat the hoof after
them for some time, but by degrees began to perceive that they
were on a wild-goose chase, and getting into a country perfectly
barren to the trapper. They now came to a halt, and be-thought
themselves how to make up for lost time, and improve the
remainder of the season. It was thought best to divide their
forces and try different trapping grounds. While Dripps went in
one direction, Vanderburgh, with about fifty men, proceeded in
another. The latter, in his headlong march had got into the very
heart of the Blackfoot country, yet seems to have been
unconscious of his danger. As his scouts were out one day, they
came upon the traces of a recent band of savages. There were the
deserted fires still smoking, surrounded by the carcasses of
buffaloes just killed. It was evident a party of Blackfeet had
been frightened from their hunting camp, and had retreated,
probably to seek reinforcements. The scouts hastened back to the
camp, and told Vanderburgh what they had seen. He made light of
the alarm, and, taking nine men with him, galloped off to
reconnoitre for himself. He found the deserted hunting camp just
as they had represented it; there lay the carcasses of buffaloes,
partly dismembered; there were the smouldering fires, still
sending up their wreaths of smoke; everything bore traces of
recent and hasty retreat; and gave reason to believe that the
savages were still lurking in the neighborhood. With heedless
daring, Vanderburgh put himself upon their trail, to trace them
to their place of concealment: It led him over prairies, and
through skirts of woodland, until it entered a dark and dangerous
ravine. Vanderburgh pushed in, without hesitation, followed by
his little band. They soon found themselves in a gloomy dell,
between steep banks overhung with trees, where the profound
silence was only broken by the tramp of their own horses.

Suddenly the horrid war-whoop burst on their ears, mingled with
the sharp report of rifles, and a legion of savages sprang from
their concealments, yelling, and shaking their buffalo robes to
frighten the horses. Vanderburgh's horse fell, mortally wounded
by the first discharge. In his fall he pinned his rider to the
ground, who called in vain upon his men to assist in extricating
him. One was shot down scalped a few paces distant; most of the
others were severely wounded, and sought their safety in flight.
The savages approached to dispatch the unfortunate leader, as he
lay struggling beneath his horse.. He had still his rifle in his
hand and his pistols in his belt. The first savage that advanced
received the contents of the rifle in his breast, and fell dead
upon the spot; but before Vanderburgh could draw a pistol, a blow
from a tomahawk laid him prostrate, and he was dispatched by
repeated wounds.

Such was the fate of Major Henry Vanderburgh, one of the best and
worthiest leaders of the American Fur Company, who by his manly
bearing and dauntless courage is said to have made himself
universally popular among the bold-hearted rovers of the
wilderness.

Those of the little band who escaped fled in consternation to the
camp, and spread direful reports of the force and ferocity of the
enemy. The party, being without a head, were in complete
confusion and dismay, and made a precipitate retreat, without
attempting to recover the remains of their butchered leader. They
made no halt until they reached the encampment of the Pends
Oreilles, or Hanging-ears, where they offered a reward for the
recovery of the body, but without success; it never could be
found.

In the meantime Fitzpatrick and Bridger, of the Rocky Mountain
Company, fared but little better than their rivals. In their
eagerness to mislead them they betrayed themselves into danger,
and got into a region infested with the Blackfeet. They soon
found that foes were on the watch for them; but they were
experienced in Indian warfare, and not to be surprised at night,
nor drawn into an ambush in the daytime. As the evening advanced,
the horses were all brought in and picketed, and a guard was
stationed round the camp. At the earliest streak of day one of
the leaders would mount his horse, and gallop off full speed for
about half a mile; then look round for Indian trails, to
ascertain whether there had been any lurkers round the camp;
returning slowly, he would reconnoitre every ravine and thicket
where there might be an ambush. This done, he would gallop off in
an opposite direction and repeat the same scrutiny. Finding all
things safe, the horses would be turned loose to graze, but
always under the eye of a guard.

A caution equally vigilant was observed in the march, on
approaching any defile or place where an enemy might lie in wait;
and scouts were always kept in the advance, or along the ridges
and rising grounds on the flanks.

At length, one day, a large band of Blackfeet appeared in the
open field, but in the vicinity of rocks and cliffs. They kept at
a wary distance, but made friendly signs. The trappers replied in
the same way, but likewise kept aloof. A small party of Indians
now advanced, bearing the pipe of peace; they were met by an
equal number of white men, and they formed a group midway between
the two bands, where the pipe was circulated from hand to hand,
and smoked with all due ceremony. An instance of natural
affection took place at this pacific meeting. Among the free
trappers in the Rocky Mountain band was a spirited young Mexican
named Loretto, who, in the course of his wanderings, had ransomed
a beautiful Blackfoot girl from a band of Crows by whom she had
been captured. He made her his wife, after the Indian style, and
she had followed his fortunes ever since, with the most devoted
affection.

Among the Blackfeet warriors who advanced with the calumet of
peace she recognized a brother. Leaving her infant with Loretto
she rushed forward and threw herself upon her brother's neck, who
clasped his long-lost sister to his heart with a warmth of
affection but little compatible with the reputed stoicism of the
savage.

While this scene was taking place, Bridger left the main body of
trappers and rode slowly toward the group of smokers, with his
rifle resting across the pommel of his saddle. The chief of the
Blackfeet stepped forward to meet him. From some unfortunate
feeling of distrust Bridger cocked his rifle just as the chief
was extending his hand in friendship. The quick ear of the savage
caught the click of the lock; in a twinkling he grasped the
barrel, forced the muzzle downward, and the contents were
discharged into the earth at his feet. His next movement was to
wrest the weapon from the hand of Bridger and fell him with it to
the earth. He might have found this no easy task had not the
unfortunate leader received two arrows in his back during the
struggle.

The chief now sprang into the vacant saddle and galloped off to
his band. A wild hurry-skurry scene ensued; each party took to
the banks, the rocks and trees, to gain favorable positions, and
an irregular firing was kept up on either side, without much
effect. The Indian girl had been hurried off by her people at the
outbreak of the affray. She would have returned, through the
dangers of the fight, to her husband and her child, but was
prevented by her brother. The young Mexican saw her struggles and
her agony, and heard her piercing cries. With a generous impulse
he caught up the child in his arms, rushed forward, regardless of
Indian shaft or rifle, and placed it in safety upon her bosom.
Even the savage heart of the Blackfoot chief was reached by this
noble deed. He pronounced Loretto a madman for his temerity, but
bade him depart in peace. The young Mexican hesitated; he urged
to have his wife restored to him, but her brother interfered, and
the countenance of the chief grew dark. The girl, he said,
belonged to his tribe-she must remain with her people. Loretto
would still have lingered, but his wife implored him to depart,
lest his life should be endangered. It was with the greatest
reluctance that he returned to his companions.

The approach of night put an end to the skirmishing fire of the
adverse parties, and the savages drew off without renewing their
hostilities. We cannot but remark that both in this affair and
that of Pierre's Hole the affray commenced by a hostile act on
the part of white men at the moment when the Indian warrior was
extending the hand of amity. In neither instance, as far as
circumstances have been stated to us by different persons, do we
see any reason to suspect the savage chiefs of perfidy in their
overtures of friendship. They advanced in the confiding way usual
among Indians when they bear the pipe of peace, and consider
themselves sacred from attack. If we violate the sanctity of this
ceremonial, by any hostile movement on our part, it is we who
incur the charge of faithlessness; and we doubt not that in both
these instances the white men have been considered by the
Blackfeet as the aggressors, and have, in consequence, been held
up as men not to be trusted.

A word to conclude the romantic incident of Loretto and his
Indian bride. A few months subsequent to the event just related,
the young Mexican settled his accounts with the Rocky Mountain
Company, and obtained his discharge. He then left his comrades
and set off to rejoin his wife and child among her people; and we
understand that, at the time we are writing these pages, he
resides at a trading-house established of late by the American
Fur Company in the Blackfoot country, where he acts as an
interpreter, and has his Indian girl with him.

                              12.
                                
A winter camp in the wilderness Medley of trappers, hunters, and
Indians Scarcity of game New arrangements in the camp Detachments
      sent to a distance Carelessness of the Indians when
encamped Sickness among the Indians Excellent character of the
Nez Perces The Captain's effort as a pacificator A Nez Perce's
   argument in favor of war Robberies, by the Black feet Long
    suffering of the Nez Perces A hunter's Elysium among the
mountains More robberies The Captain preaches up a crusade The
                    effect upon his hearers.

FOR the greater part of the month of November Captain Bonneville
remained in his temporary post on Salmon River. He was now in the
full enjoyment of his wishes; leading a hunter's life in the
heart of the wilderness, with all its wild populace around him.
Beside his own people, motley in character and costume--creole,
Kentuckian, Indian, half-breed, hired trapper, and free
trapper--he was surrounded by encampments of Nez Perces and
Flatheads, with their droves of horses covering the hills and
plains. It was, he declares, a wild and bustling scene. The
hunting parties of white men and red men, continually sallying
forth and returning; the groups at the various encampments, some
cooking, some working, some amusing themselves at different
games; the neighing of horses, the braying of asses, the
resounding strokes of the axe, the sharp report of the rifle, the
whoop, the halloo, and the frequent burst of laughter, all in the
midst of a region suddenly roused from perfect silence and
loneliness by this transient hunters' sojourn, realized, he says,
the idea of a "populous solitude."

The kind and genial character of the captain had, evidently, its
influence on the opposite races thus fortuitously congregated
together. The most perfect harmony prevailed between them. The
Indians, he says, were friendly in their dispositions, and honest
to the most scrupulous degree in their intercourse with the white
men. It is true they were somewhat importunate in their
curiosity, and apt to be continually in the way, examining
everything with keen and prying eye, and watching every movement
of the white men. All this, however, was borne with great
good-humor by the captain, and through his example by his men.
Indeed, throughout all his transactions he shows himself the
friend of the poor Indians, and his conduct toward them is above
all praise.

The Nez Perces, the Flatheads, and the Hanging-ears pride
themselves upon the number of their horses, of which they possess
more in proportion than any other of the mountain tribes within
the buffalo range. Many of the Indian warriors and hunters
encamped around Captain Bonneville possess from thirty to forty
horses each. Their horses are stout, well-built ponies, of great
wind, and capable of enduring the severest hardship and fatigue.
The swiftest of them, however, are those obtained from the whites
while sufficiently young to become acclimated and inured to the
rough service of the mountains.

By degrees the populousness of this encampment began to produce
its inconveniences. The immense droves of horses owned by the
Indians consumed the herbage of the surrounding hills; while to
drive them to any distant pasturage, in a neighborhood abounding
with lurking and deadly enemies, would be to endanger the loss
both of man and beast. Game, too, began to grow scarce. It was
soon hunted and frightened out of the vicinity, and though the
Indians made a wide circuit through the mountains in the hope of
driving the buffalo toward the cantonment, their expedition was
unsuccessful. It was plain that so large a party could not
subsist themselves there, nor in any one place throughout the
winter. Captain Bonneville, therefore, altered his whole
arrangements. He detached fifty men toward the south to winter
upon Snake River, and to trap about its waters in the spring,
with orders to rejoin him in the month of July at Horse Creek, in
Green River Valley, which he had fixed upon as the general
rendezvous of his company for the ensuing year.

Of all his late party, he now retained with him merely a small
number of free trappers, with whom he intended to sojourn among
the Nez Perces and Flatheads, and adopt the Indian mode of moving
with the game and grass. Those bands, in effect, shortly
afterward broke up their encampments and set off for a less
beaten neighborhood. Captain Bonneville remained behind for a few
days, that he might secretly prepare caches, in which to deposit
everything not required for current use. Thus lightened of all
superfluous encumbrance, he set off on the 20th of November to
rejoin his Indian allies. He found them encamped in a secluded
part of the country, at the head of a small stream. Considering
themselves out of all danger in this sequestered spot from their
old enemies, the Blackfeet, their encampment manifested the most
negligent security. Their lodges were scattered in every
direction, and their horses covered every hill for a great
distance round, grazing upon the upland bunch grass which grew in
great abundance, and though dry, retained its nutritious
properties instead of losing them like other grasses in the
autumn.

When the Nez Perces, Flatheads, and Pends Oreilles are encamped
in a dangerous neighborhood, says Captain Bonneville, the
greatest care is taken of their horses, those prime articles of
Indian wealth, and objects of Indian depredation. Each warrior
has his horse tied by one foot at night to a stake planted before
his lodge. Here they remain until broad daylight; by that time
the young men of the camp are already ranging over the
surrounding hills. Each family then drives its horses to some
eligible spot, where they are left to graze unattended. A young
Indian repairs occasionally to the pasture to give them water,
and to see that all is well. So accustomed are the horses to this
management, that they keep together in the pasture where they
have been left. As the sun sinks behind the hills, they may be
seen moving from all points toward the camp, where they surrender
themselves to be tied up for the night. Even in situations of
danger, the Indians rarely set guards over their camp at night,
intrusting that office entirely to their vigilant and
well-trained dogs.

In an encampment, however, of such fancied security as that in
which Captain Bonneville found his Indian friends, much of these
precautions with respect to their horses are omitted. They merely
drive them, at nightfall, to some sequestered little dell, and
leave them there, at perfect liberty, until the morning.

One object of Captain Bonneville in wintering among these Indians
was to procure a supply of horses against the spring. They were,
however, extremely unwilling to part with any, and it was with
great difficulty that he purchased, at the rate of twenty dollars
each, a few for the use of some of his free trappers who were on
foot and dependent on him for their equipment.

In this encampment Captain Bonneville remained from the 21st of
November to the 9th of December. During this period the
thermometer ranged from thirteen to forty-two degrees. There were
occasional falls of snow; but it generally melted away almost
immediately, and the tender blades of new grass began to shoot up
among the old. On the 7th of December, however, the thermometer
fell to seven degrees.

The reader will recollect that, on distributing his forces when
in Green River Valley, Captain Bonneville had detached a party,
headed by a leader of the name of Matthieu, with all the weak and
disabled horses, to sojourn about Bear River, meet the Shoshonie
bands, and afterward to rejoin him at his winter camp on Salmon
River.

More than sufficient time had elapsed, yet Matthieu failed to
make his appearance, and uneasiness began to be felt on his
account. Captain Bonneville sent out four men, to range the
country through which he would have to pass, and endeavor to get
some information concerning him; for his route lay across the
great Snake River plain, which spreads itself out like an Arabian
desert, and on which a cavalcade could be descried at a great
distance. The scouts soon returned, having proceeded no further
than the edge of the plain, pretending that their horses were
lame; but it was evident they had feared to venture, with so
small a force, into these exposed and dangerous regions.

A disease, which Captain Bonneville supposed to be pneumonia, now
appeared among the Indians, carrying off numbers of them after an
illness of three or four days. The worthy captain acted as
physician, prescribing profuse sweatings and copious bleedings,
and uniformly with success, if the patient were subsequently
treated with proper care. In extraordinary cases, the poor
savages called in the aid of their own doctors or conjurors, who
officiated with great noise and mummery, but with little benefit.
Those who died during this epidemic were buried in graves, after
the manner of the whites, but without any regard to the direction
of the head. It is a fact worthy of notice that, while this
malady made such ravages among the natives, not a single white
man had the slightest symptom of it.

A familiar intercourse of some standing with the Pierced-nose and
Flathead Indians had now convinced Captain Bonneville of their
amicable and inoffensive character; he began to take a strong
interest in them, and conceived the idea of becoming a
pacificator, and healing the deadly feud between them and the
Blackfeet, in which they were so deplorably the sufferers. He
proposed the matter to some of the leaders, and urged that they
should meet the Blackfeet chiefs in a grand pacific conference,
offering to send two of his men to the enemy's camp with pipe,
tobacco and flag of truce, to negotiate the proposed meeting.

The Nez Perces and Flathead sages upon this held a council of war
of two days' duration, in which there was abundance of hard
smoking and long talking, and both eloquence and tobacco were
nearly exhausted. At length they came to a decision to reject the
worthy captain's proposition, and upon pretty substantial
grounds, as the reader may judge.

"War," said the chiefs, "is a bloody business, and full of evil;
but it keeps the eyes of the chiefs always open, and makes the
limbs of the young men strong and supple. In war, every one is on
the alert. If we see a trail we know it must be an enemy; if the
Blackfeet come to us, we know it is for war, and we are ready.
Peace, on the other hand, sounds no alarm; the eyes of the chiefs
are closed in sleep, and the young men are sleek and lazy. The
horses stray into the mountains; the women and their little babes
go about alone. But the heart of a Blackfoot is a lie, and his
tongue is a trap. If he says peace it is to deceive; he comes to
us as a brother; he smokes his pipe with us; but when he sees us
weak, and off our guard, he will slay and steal. We will have no
such peace; let there be war!"

With this reasoning Captain Bonneville was fain to acquiesce;
but, since the sagacious Flatheads and their allies were content
to remain in a state of warfare, he wished them at least to
exercise the boasted vigilance which war was to produce, and to
keep their eyes open. He represented to them the impossibility
that two such considerable clans could move about the country
without leaving trails by which they might be traced. Besides,
among the Blackfeet braves were several Nez Perces, who had been
taken prisoners in early youth, adopted by their captors, and
trained up and imbued with warlike and predatory notions; these
had lost all sympathies with their native tribe, and would be
prone to lead the enemy to their secret haunts. He exhorted them,
therefore, to keep upon the alert, and never to remit their
vigilance while within the range of so crafty and cruel a foe.
All these counsels were lost upon his easy and simple-minded
hearers. A careless indifference reigned throughout their
encampments, and their horses were permitted to range the hills
at night in perfect freedom. Captain Bonneville had his own
horses brought in at night, and properly picketed and guarded.
The evil he apprehended soon took place. In a single night a
swoop was made through the neighboring pastures by the Blackfeet,
and eighty-six of the finest horses carried off. A whip and a
rope were left in a conspicuous situation by the robbers, as a
taunt to the simpletons they had unhorsed.

Long before sunrise the news of this calamity spread like
wildfire through the different encampments. Captain Bonneville,
whose own horses remained safe at their pickets, watched in
momentary expectation of an outbreak of warriors, Pierced-nose
and Flathead, in furious pursuit of the marauders; but no such
thing -- they contented themselves with searching diligently over
hill and dale, to glean up such horses as had escaped the hands
of the marauders, and then resigned themselves to their loss with
the most exemplary quiescence.

Some, it is true, who were entirely unhorsed, set out on a
begging visit to their cousins, as they called them, the Lower
Nez Perces, who inhabit the lower country about the Columbia, and
possess horses in abundance. To these they repair when in
difficulty, and seldom fail, by dint of begging and bartering, to
get themselves once more mounted on horseback.

Game had now become scarce in the neighborhood of the camp, and
it was necessary, according to Indian custom, to move off to a
less beaten ground. Captain Bonneville proposed the Horse
Prairie; but his Indian friends objected that many of the Nez
Perces had gone to visit their cousins, and that the whites were
few in number, so that their united force was not sufficient to
Venture upon the buffalo grounds, which were infested by bands of
Blackfeet.

They now spoke of a place at no great distance, which they
represented as a perfect hunter's elysium. It was on the right
branch, or head stream of the river, locked up among cliffs and
precipices where there was no danger from roving bands, and where
the Blackfeet dare not enter. Here, they said, the elk abounded,
and the mountain sheep were to be seen trooping upon the rocks
and hills. A little distance beyond it, also, herds of buffalo
were to be met with, Out of range of danger. Thither they
proposed to move their camp.

The proposition pleased the captain, who was desirous, through
the Indians, of becoming acquainted with all the secret places of
the land. Accordingly, on the 9th of December, they struck their
tents, and moved forward by short stages, as many of the Indians
were yet feeble from the late malady.

Following up the right fork of the river they came to where it
entered a deep gorge of the mountains, up which lay the secluded
region so much valued by the Indians. Captain Bonneville halted
and encamped for three days before entering the gorge. In the
meantime he detached five of his free trappers to scour the
hills, and kill as many elk as possible, before the main body
should enter, as they would then be soon frightened away by the
various Indian hunting parties.

While thus encamped, they were still liable to the marauds of the
Blackfeet, and Captain Bonneville admonished his Indian friends
to be upon their guard. The Nez Perces, however, notwithstanding
their recent loss, were still careless of their horses; merely
driving them to some secluded spot, and leaving them there for
the night, without setting any guard upon them. The consequence
was a second swoop, in which forty-one were carried off. This was
borne with equal philosophy with the first, and no effort was
made either to recover the horses, or to take vengeance on the
thieves.

The Nez Perces, however, grew more cautious with respect to their
remaining horses, driving them regularly to the camp every
evening, and fastening them to pickets. Captain Bonneville,
however, told them that this was not enough. It was evident they
were dogged by a daring and persevering enemy, who was encouraged
by past impunity; they should, therefore, take more than usual
precautions, and post a guard at night over their cavalry. They
could not, however, be persuaded to depart from their usual
custom. The horse once picketed, the care of the owner was over
for the night, and he slept profoundly. None waked in the camp
but the gamblers, who, absorbed in their play, were more
difficult to be roused to external circumstances than even the
sleepers.

The Blackfeet are bold enemies, and fond of hazardous exploits.
The band that were hovering about the neighborhood, finding that
they had such pacific people to deal with, redoubled their
daring. The horses being now picketed before the lodges, a number
of Blackfeet scouts penetrated in the early part of the night
into the very centre of the camp. Here they went about among the
lodges as calmly and deliberately as if at home, quietly cutting
loose the horses that stood picketed by the lodges of their
sleeping owners. One of these prowlers, more adventurous than the
rest, approached a fire round which a group of Nez Perces were
gambling with the most intense eagerness. Here he stood for some
time, muffled up in his robe, peering over the shoulders of the
players, watching the changes of their countenances and the
fluctuations of the game. So completely engrossed were they, that
the presence of this muffled eaves-dropper was unnoticed and,
having executed his bravado, he retired undiscovered.

Having cut loose as many horses as they could conveniently carry
off, the Blackfeet scouts rejoined their comrades, and all
remained patiently round the camp. By degrees the horses, finding
themselves at liberty, took their route toward their customary
grazing ground. As they emerged from the camp they were silently
taken possession of, until, having secured about thirty, the
Blackfeet sprang on their backs and scampered off. The clatter of
hoofs startled the gamblers from their game. They gave the alarm,
which soon roused the sleepers from every lodge. Still all was
quiescent; no marshalling of forces, no saddling of steeds and
dashing off in pursuit, no talk of retribution for their repeated
outrages. The patience of Captain Bonneville was at length
exhausted. He had played the part of a pacificator without
success; he now altered his tone, and resolved, if possible, to
rouse their war spirit.

Accordingly, convoking their chiefs, he inveighed against their
craven policy, and urged the necessity of vigorous and
retributive measures that would check the confidence and
presumption of their enemies, if not inspire them with awe. For
this purpose, he advised that a war party should be immediately
sent off on the trail of the marauders, to follow them, if
necessary, into the very heart of the Blackfoot country, and not
to leave them until they had taken signal vengeance. Beside this,
he recommended the organization of minor war parties, to make
reprisals to the extent of the losses sustained. "Unless you
rouse yourselves from your apathy," said he, "and strike some
bold and decisive blow, you will cease to be considered men, or
objects of manly warfare. The very squaws and children of the
Blackfeet will be set against you, while their warriors reserve
themselves for nobler antagonists."

This harangue had evidently a momentary effect upon the pride of
the hearers. After a short pause, however, one of the orators
arose. It was bad, he said, to go to war for mere revenge. The
Great Spirit had given them a heart for peace, not for war. They
had lost horses, it was true, but they could easily get others
from their cousins, the Lower Nez Perces, without incurring any
risk; whereas, in war they should lose men, who were not so
readily replaced. As to their late losses, an increased
watchfulness would prevent any more misfortunes of the kind. He
disapproved, therefore, of all hostile measures; and all the
other chiefs concurred in his opinion.

Captain Bonneville again took up the point. "It is true," said
he, "the Great Spirit has given you a heart to love your friends;
but he has also given you an arm to strike your enemies. Unless
you do something speedily to put an end to this continual
plundering, I must say farewell. As yet I have sustained no loss;
thanks to the precautions which you have slighted; but my
property is too unsafe here; my turn will come next; I and my
people will share the contempt you are bringing upon yourselves,
and will be thought, like you, poor-spirited beings, who may at
any time be plundered with impunity."

The conference broke up with some signs of excitement on the part
of the Indians. Early the next morning, a party of thirty men set
off in pursuit of the foe, and Captain Bonneville hoped to hear a
good account of the Blackfeet marauders. To his disappointment,
the war party came lagging back on the following day, leading a
few old, sorry, broken-down horses, which the free-booters had
not been able to urge to sufficient speed. This effort exhausted
the martial spirit, and satisfied the wounded pride of the Nez
Perces, and they relapsed into their usual state of passive
indifference.

                              13.
                                
            Story of Kosato, the Renegade Blackfoot.

IF the meekness and long-suffering of the Pierced-noses grieved
the spirit of Captain Bonneville, there was another individual in
the camp to whom they were still more annoying. This was a
Blackfoot renegado, named Kosato, a fiery hot-blooded youth who,
with a beautiful girl of the same tribe, had taken refuge among
the Nez  Perces. Though  adopted  into the tribe, he still
retained the warlike spirit of his race, and loathed the
peaceful, inoffensive habits of those around him. The hunting of
the deer, the elk, and the buffalo, which was the height of their
ambition, was too tame to satisfy his wild and restless nature.
His heart burned for the foray, the ambush, the skirmish, the
scamper, and all the haps and hazards of roving and predatory
warfare.

The recent hoverings of the Blackfeet about the camp, their
nightly prowls and daring and successful marauds, had kept him in
a fever and a flutter, like a hawk in a cage who hears his late
companions swooping and screaming in wild liberty above him. The
attempt of Captain Bonneville to rouse the war spirit of the Nez
Perces, and prompt them to retaliation, was ardently seconded by
Kosato. For several days he was incessantly devising schemes of
vengeance, and endeavoring to set on foot an expedition that
should carry dismay and desolation into the Blackfeet town. All
his art was exerted to touch upon those springs of human action
with which he was most familiar. He drew the listening savages
round him by his nervous eloquence; taunted them with recitals of
past wrongs and insults; drew glowing pictures of triumphs and
trophies within their reach; recounted tales of daring and
romantic enterprise, of secret marchings, covert lurkings,
midnight surprisals, sackings, burnings, plunderings, scalpings;
together with the triumphant return, and the feasting and
rejoicing of the victors. These wild tales were intermingled with
the beating of the drum, the yell, the war-whoop and the
war-dance, so inspiring to Indian valor. All, however, were lost
upon the peaceful spirits of his hearers; not a Nez Perce was to
be roused to vengeance, or stimulated to glorious war. In the
bitterness of his heart, the Blackfoot renegade repined at the
mishap which had severed him from a race of congenial spirits,
and driven him to take refuge among beings so destitute of
martial fire.

The character and conduct of this man attracted the attention of
Captain Bonneville, and he was anxious to hear the reason why he
had deserted his tribe, and why he looked back upon them with
such deadly hostility. Kosato told him his own story briefly: it
gives a picture of the deep, strong passions that work in the
bosoms of these miscalled stoics.

"You see my wife," said he, "she is good; she is beautiful --I
love her. Yet she has been the cause of all my troubles. She was
the wife of my chief. I loved her more than he did; and she knew
it. We talked together; we laughed together; we were always
seeking each other's society; but we were as innocent as
children. The chief grew jealous, and commanded her to speak with
me no more. His heart became hard toward her; his jealousy grew
more furious. He beat her without cause and without mercy; and
threatened to kill her outright if she even looked at me. Do you
want traces of his fury? Look at that scar! His rage against me
was no less persecuting. War parties of the Crows were hovering
round us; our young men had seen their trail. All hearts were
roused for action; my horses were before my lodge. Suddenly the
chief came, took them to his own pickets, and called them his
own. What could I do? he was a chief. I durst not speak, but my
heart was burning. I joined no longer in the council, the hunt,
or the war-feast. What had I to do there? an unhorsed, degraded
warrior. I kept by myself, and thought of nothing but these
wrongs and outrages.

"I was sitting one evening upon a knoll that overlooked the
meadow where the horses were pastured. I saw the horses that were
once mine grazing among those of the chief. This maddened me, and
I sat brooding for a time over the injuries I had suffered, and
the cruelties which she I loved had endured for my sake, until my
heart swelled and grew sore, and my teeth were clinched. As I
looked down upon the meadow I saw the chief walking among his
horses. I fastened my eyes upon him as a hawk's; my blood boiled;
I drew my breath hard. He went among the willows. In an instant I
was on my feet; my hand was on my knife --I flew rather than ran
-- before he was aware I sprang upon him, and with two blows laid
him dead at my feet. I covered his body with earth, and strewed
bushes over the place; then I hastened to her I loved, told her
what I had done, and urged her to fly with me. She only answered
me with tears. I reminded her of the wrongs I had suffered, and
of the blows and stripes she had endured from the deceased; I had
done nothing but an act of justice. I again urged her to fly; but
she only wept the more, and bade me go. My heart was heavy, but
my eyes were dry. I folded my arms. ' 'Tis well,' said I; 'Kosato
will go alone to the desert. None will be with him but the wild
beasts of the desert. The seekers of blood may follow on his
trail. They may come upon him when he sleeps and glut their
revenge; but you will be safe. Kosato will go alone.

"I turned away. She sprang after me, and strained me in her arms.
'No,' she cried, 'Kosato shall not go alone! Wherever he goes I
will go -- he shall never part from me.

"'We hastily took in our hands such things as we most needed, and
stealing quietly from the village, mounted the first horses we
encountered. Speeding day and night, we soon reached this tribe.
They received us with welcome, and we have dwelt with them in
peace. They are good and kind; they are honest; but their hearts
are the hearts of women.

Such was the story of Kosato, as related by him to Captain
Bonneville. It is of a kind that often occurs in Indian life;
where love elopements from tribe to tribe are as frequent as
among the novel-read heroes and heroines of sentimental
civilization, and often give rise to bloods and lasting feuds.

                               14
                                
   The party enters the mountain gorge A wild fastness among
  hills Mountain mutton Peace and plenty The amorous trapper-A
   piebald wedding-A free trapper's wife-Her gala equipments-
                  Christmas in the wilderness.

ON the 19th of December Captain Bonneville and his confederate
Indians raised their camp, and entered the narrow gorge made by
the north fork of Salmon River. Up this lay the secure and
plenteous hunting region so temptingly described by the Indians.

Since leaving Green River the plains had invariably been of loose
sand or coarse gravel, and the rocky formation of the mountains
of primitive limestone. The rivers, in general, were skirted
with willows and bitter cottonwood trees, and the prairies
covered with wormwood. In the hollow breast of the mountains
which they were now penetrating, the surrounding heights were
clothed with pine; while the declivities of the lower hills
afforded abundance of bunch grass for the horses.

As the Indians had represented, they were now in a natural
fastness of the mountains, the ingress and egress of which was by
a deep gorge, so narrow, rugged, and difficult as to prevent
secret approach or rapid retreat, and to admit of easy defence.
The Blackfeet, therefore, refrained from venturing in after the
Nez Perces, awaiting a better chance, when they should once more
emerge into the open country.

Captain Bonneville soon found that the Indians had not
exaggerated the advantages of this region. Besides the numerous
gangs of elk, large flocks of the ahsahta or bighorn, the
mountain sheep, were to be seen bounding among the precipices.
These simple animals were easily circumvented and destroyed. A
few hunters may surround a flock and kill as many as they please.
Numbers were daily brought into camp, and the flesh of those
which were young and fat was extolled as superior to the finest
mutton.

Here, then, there was a cessation from toil, from hunger, and
alarm. Past ills and dangers were forgotten. The hunt, the game,
the song, the story, the rough though good-humored joke, made
time pass joyously away, and plenty and security reigned
throughout the camp.

Idleness and ease, it is said, lead to love, and love to
matrimony, in civilized life, and the same process takes place in
the wilderness. Filled with good cheer and mountain mutton, one
of the free trappers began to repine at the solitude of his
lodge, and to experience the force of that great law of nature,
"it is not meet for man to live alone.''

After a night of grave cogitation he repaired to Kowsoter, the
Pierced-nose chief, and unfolded to him the secret workings of
his bosom.

"I want," said he, "a wife. Give me one from among your tribe.
Not a young, giddy-pated girl, that will think of nothing but
flaunting and finery, but a sober, discreet, hard-working squaw;
one that will share my lot without flinching, however hard it may
be; that can take care of my lodge, and be a companion and a
helpmate to me in the wilderness." Kowsoter promised to look
round among the females of his tribe, and procure such a one as
he desired. Two days were requisite for the search. At the
expiration of these, Kowsoter, called at his lodge, and informed
him that he would bring his bride to him in the course of the
afternoon. He kept his word. At the appointed time he approached,
leading the bride, a comely copper-colored dame attired in her
Indian finery. Her father, mother, brothers by the half dozen and
cousins by the score, all followed on to grace the ceremony and
greet the new and important relative.

The trapper received his new and numerous family connection with
proper solemnity; he placed his bride beside him, and, filling
the pipe, the great symbol of peace, with his best tobacco, took
two or three whiffs, then handed it to the chief who transferred
it to the father of the bride, from whom it was passed on from
hand to hand and mouth to mouth of the whole circle of kinsmen
round the fire, all maintaining the most profound and becoming
silence.

After several pipes had been filled and emptied in this solemn
ceremonial, the chief addressed the bride, detailing at
considerable length the duties of a wife which, among Indians,
are little less onerous than those of the pack-horse; this done,
he turned to her friends and congratulated them upon the great
alliance she had made. They showed a due sense of their good
fortune, especially when the nuptial presents came to be
distributed among the chiefs and relatives, amounting to about
one hundred and eighty dollars. The company soon retired, and now
the worthy trapper found indeed that he had no green girl to deal
with; for the knowing dame at once assumed the style and dignity
of a trapper's wife: taking possession of the lodge as her
undisputed empire, arranging everything according to her own
taste and habitudes, and appearing as much at home and on as easy
terms with the trapper as if they had been man and wife for
years.

We have already given a picture of a free trapper and his horse,
as furnished by Captain Bonneville: we shall here subjoin, as a
companion picture, his description of a free trapper's wife, that
the reader may have a correct idea of the kind of blessing the
worthy hunter in question had invoked to solace him in the
wilderness.

"The free trapper, while a bachelor, has no greater pet than his
horse; but the moment he takes a wife (a sort of brevet rank in
matrimony occasionally bestowed upon some Indian fair one, like
the heroes of ancient chivalry in the open field), he discovers
that he has a still more fanciful and capricious animal on which
to lavish his expenses.

"No sooner does an Indian belle experience this promotion, than
all her notions at once rise and expand to the dignity of her
situation, and the purse of her lover, and his credit into the
bargain, are taxed to the utmost to fit her out in becoming
style. The wife of a free trapper to be equipped and arrayed like
any ordinary and undistinguished squaw? Perish the grovelling
thought! In the first place, she must have a horse for her own
riding; but no jaded, sorry, earth-spirited hack, such as is
sometimes assigned by an Indian husband for the transportation of
his squaw and her pappooses: the wife of a free trader must have
the most beautiful animal she can lay her eyes on. And then, as
to his decoration: headstall, breast-bands, saddle and crupper
are lavishly embroidered with beads, and hung with thimbles,
hawks' bells, and bunches of ribbons. From each side of the
saddle hangs an esquimoot, a sort of pocket, in which she bestows
the residue of her trinkets and nick-nacks, which cannot be
crowded on the decoration of her horse or herself. Over this she
folds, with great care, a drapery of scarlet and bright-colored
calicoes, and now considers the caparison of her steed complete.

"As to her own person, she is even still more extravagant. Her
hair, esteemed beautiful in proportion to its length, is
carefully plaited, and made to fall with seeming negligence over
either breast. Her riding hat is stuck full of parti-colored
feathers; her robe, fashioned somewhat after that of the whites,
is of red, green, and sometimes gray cloth, but always of the
finest texture that can be procured. Her leggings and moccasins
are of the most beautiful and expensive workman-ship, and fitted
neatly to the foot and ankle, which with the Indian woman are
generally well formed and delicate. Then as to jewelry: in the
way of finger-rings, ear-rings, necklaces, and other female
glories, nothing within reach of the trapper's means is omitted
that can tend to impress the beholder with an idea of the lady's
high estate. To finish the whole, she selects from among her
blankets of various dyes one of some glowing color, and throwing
it over her shoulders with a native grace, vaults into the saddle
of her gay, prancing steed, and is ready to follow her
mountaineer 'to the last gasp with love and loyalty.' "

Such is the general picture of the free trapper's wife, given by
Captain Bonneville; how far it applied in its details to the one
in question does not altogether appear, though it would seem from
the outset of her connubial career, that she was ready to avail
herself of all the pomp and circumstance of her new condition. It
is worthy of mention that wherever there are several wives of
free trappers in a camp, the keenest rivalry exists between them,
to the sore detriment of their husbands' purses. Their whole time
is expended and their ingenuity tasked by endeavors to eclipse
each other in dress and decoration. The jealousies and
heart-burnings thus occasioned among these so-styled children of
nature are equally intense with those of the rival leaders of
style and fashion in the luxurious abodes of civilized life.

The genial festival of Christmas, which throughout all
Christendom lights up the fireside of home with mirth and
jollity, followed hard upon the wedding just described. Though
far from kindred and friends, Captain Bonneville and his handful
of free trappers were not disposed to suffer the festival to pass
unenjoyed; they were in a region of good cheer, and were disposed
to be joyous; so it was determined to "light up the yule clog,"
and celebrate a merry Christmas in the heart of the wilderness.

On Christmas eve, accordingly, they began their rude fetes and
rejoicings. In the course of the night the free trappers
surrounded the lodge of the Pierced-nose chief and in lieu of
Christmas carols, saluted him with a feude joie.

Kowsoter received it in a truly Christian spirit, and after a
speech, in which he expressed his high gratification at the honor
done him, invited the whole company to a feast on the following
day. His invitation was gladly accepted. A Christmas dinner in
the wigwam of an Indian chief! There was novelty in the idea. Not
one failed to be present. The banquet was served up in primitive
style: skins of various kinds, nicely dressed for the occasion,
were spread upon the ground; upon these were heaped up abundance
of venison, elk meat, and mountain mutton, with various bitter
roots which the Indians use as condiments.

After a short prayer, the company all seated themselves
cross-legged, in Turkish fashion, to the banquet, which passed
off with great hilarity. After which various games of strength
and agility by both white men and Indians closed the Christmas
festivities.

                              15.
                                
  A hunt after hunters Hungry times A voracious repast Wintry
weather Godin's River Splendid winter scene on the great Lava
   Plain of Snake River Severe travelling and tramping in the
snow Manoeuvres of a solitary Indian horseman Encampment on Snake
    River Banneck Indians The horse chief His charmed life.

THE continued absence of Matthieu and his party had, by this
time, caused great uneasiness in the mind of Captain Bonneville;
and, finding there was no dependence to be placed upon the
perseverance and courage of scouting parties in so perilous a
quest, he determined to set out himself on the search, and to
keep on until he should ascertain something of the object of his
solicitude.

Accordingly on the 20th December he left the camp, accompanied by
thirteen stark trappers and hunters, all well mounted and armed
for dangerous enterprise. On the following morning they passed
out at the head of the mountain gorge and sallied forth into the
open plain. As they confidently expected a brush with the
Blackfeet, or some other predatory horde, they moved with great
circumspection, and kept vigilant watch in their encampments.

In the course of another day they left the main branch of Salmon
River, and proceeded south toward a pass called John Day's
defile. It was severe and arduous travelling. The plains were
swept by keen and bitter blasts of wintry wind; the ground was
generally covered with snow, game was scarce, so that hunger
generally prevailed in the camp, while the want of pasturage soon
began to manifest itself in the declining vigor of the horses.

The party had scarcely encamped on the afternoon of the 28th,
when two of the hunters who had sallied forth in quest of game
came galloping back in great alarm. While hunting they had
perceived a party of savages, evidently manoeuvring to cut them
off from the camp; and nothing had saved them from being
entrapped but the speed of their horses.

These tidings struck dismay into the camp. Captain Bonneville
endeavored to reassure his men by representing the position of
their encampment, and its capability of defence. He then ordered
the horses to be driven in and picketed, and threw up a rough
breastwork of fallen trunks of trees and the vegetable rubbish of
the wilderness. Within this barrier was maintained a vigilant
watch throughout the night, which passed away without alarm. At
early dawn they scrutinized the surrounding plain, to discover
whether any enemies had been lurking about during the night; not
a foot-print, however, was to be discovered in the coarse gravel
with which the plain was covered.

Hunger now began to cause more uneasiness than the apprehensions
of surrounding enemies. After marching a few miles they encamped
at the foot of a mountain, in hopes of finding buffalo. It was
not until the next day that they discovered a pair of fine bulls
on the edge of the plain, among rocks and ravines. Having now
been two days and a half without a mouthful of food, they took
especial care that these animals should not escape them. While
some of the surest marksmen advanced cautiously with their rifles
into the rough ground, four of the best mounted horsemen took
their stations in the plain, to run the bulls down should they
only be maimed.

The buffalo were wounded and set off in headlong flight. The
half-famished horses were too weak to overtake them on the frozen
ground, but succeeded in driving them on the ice, where they
slipped and fell, and were easily dispatched. The hunters loaded
themselves with beef for present and future supply, and then
returned and encamped at the last nights's fire. Here they
passed the remainder of the day, cooking and eating with a
voracity proportioned to previous starvation, forgetting in the
hearty revel of the moment the certain dangers with which they
were environed.

The cravings of hunger being satisfied, they now began to debate
about their further progress. The men were much disheartened by
the hardships they had already endured. Indeed, two who had been
in the rear guard, taking advantage of their position, had
deserted and returned to the lodges of the Nez Perces. The
prospect ahead was enough to stagger the stoutest heart. They
were in the dead of winter. As far as the eye could reach the
wild landscape was wrapped in snow, which was evidently deepening
as they advanced. Over this they would have to toil, with the
icy wind blowing in their faces: their horses might give out
through want of pasturage, and they themselves must expect
intervals of horrible famine like that they had already
experienced.

With Captain Bonneville, however, perseverance was a matter of
pride; and, having undertaken this enterprise, nothing could turn
him back until it was accomplished: though he declares that, had
he anticipated the difficulties and sufferings which attended it,
he should have flinched from the undertaking.

Onward, therefore, the little band urged their way, keeping along
the course of a stream called John Day's Creek. The cold was so
intense that they had frequently to dismount and travel on foot,
lest they should freeze in their saddles. The days which at this
season are short enough even in the open prairies, were narrowed
to a few hours by the high mountains, which allowed the
travellers but a brief enjoyment of the cheering rays of the sun.
The snow was generally at least twenty inches in depth, and in
many places much more: those who dismounted had to beat their way
with toilsome steps. Eight miles were considered a good day's
journey. The horses were almost famished; for the herbage was
covered by the deep snow, so that they had nothing to subsist
upon but scanty wisps of the dry bunch grass which peered above
the surface, and the small branches and twigs of frozen willows
and wormwood.

In this way they urged their slow and painful course to the south
down John Day's Creek, until it lost itself in a swamp. Here they
encamped upon the ice among stiffened willows, where they were
obliged to beat down and clear away the snow to procure pasturage
for their horses.

Hence they toiled on to Godin River; so called after an Iroquois
hunter in the service of Sublette, who was murdered there by the
Blackfeet. Many of the features of this remote wilderness are
thus named after scenes of violence and bloodshed that occurred
to the early pioneers. It was an act of filial vengeance on the
part of Godin's son Antoine that, as the reader may recollect,
brought on the recent battle at Pierre's Hole.

From Godin's River, Captain Bonneville and his followers came out
upon the plain of the Three Butes, so called from three singular
and isolated hills that rise from the midst. It is a part of the
great desert of Snake River, one of the most remarkable tracts
beyond the mountains. Could they have experienced a respite from
their sufferings and anxieties, the immense landscape spread out
before them was calculated to inspire admiration. Winter has its
beauties and glories as well as summer; and Captain Bonneville
had the soul to appreciate them.

Far away, says he, over the vast plains, and up the steep sides
of the lofty mountains, the snow lay spread in dazzling
whiteness: and whenever the sun emerged in the morning above the
giant peaks, or burst forth from among clouds in his midday
course, mountain and dell, glazed rock and frosted tree, glowed
and sparkled with surpassing lustre. The tall pines seemed
sprinkled with a silver dust, and the willows, studded with
minute icicles reflecting the prismatic rays, brought to mind the
fairy trees conjured up by the caliph's story-teller to adorn his
vale of diamonds.

The poor wanderers, however, nearly starved with hunger and cold,
were in no mood to enjoy the glories of these brilliant scenes;
though they stamped pictures on their memory which have been
recalled with delight in more genial situations.

Encamping at the west Bute, they found a place swept by the
winds, so that it was bare of snow, and there was abundance of
bunch grass. Here the horses were turned loose to graze
throughout the night. Though for once they had ample pasturage,
yet the keen winds were so intense that, in the morning, a mule
was found frozen to death. The trappers gathered round and
mourned over him as over a cherished friend. They feared their
half-famished horses would soon share his fate, for there seemed
scarce blood enough left in their veins to withstand the freezing
cold. To beat the way further through the snow with these
enfeebled animals seemed next to impossible; and despondency
began to creep over their hearts, when, fortunately, they
discovered a trail made by some hunting party. Into this they
immediately entered, and proceeded with less difficulty. Shortly
afterward, a fine buffalo bull came bounding across the snow and
was instantly brought down by the hunters. A fire was soon
blazing and crackling, and an ample repast soon cooked, and
sooner dispatched; after which they made some further progress
and then encamped. One of the men reached the camp nearly frozen
to death; but good cheer and a blazing fire gradually restored
life, and put his blood in circulation.

Having now a beaten path, they proceeded the next morning with
more facility; indeed, the snow decreased in depth as they
receded from the mountains, and the temperature became more mild.
In the course of the day they discovered a solitary horseman
hovering at a distance before them on the plain. They spurred on
to overtake him; but he was better mounted on a fresher steed,
and kept at a wary distance, reconnoitring them with evident
distrust; for the wild dress of the free trappers, their
leggings, blankets, and cloth caps garnished with fur and topped
off with feathers, even their very elf-locks and weather-bronzed
complexions, gave them the look of Indians rather than white men,
and made him mistake them for a war party of some hostile tribe.

After much manoeuvring, the wild horseman was at length brought
to a parley; but even then he conducted himself with the caution
of a knowing prowler of the prairies. Dismounting from his horse,
and using him as a breastwork, he levelled his gun across his
back, and, thus prepared for defence like a wary cruiser upon the
high seas, he permitted himself to be approached within speaking
distance.

He proved to be an Indian of the Banneck tribe, belonging to a
band at no great distance. It was some time before he could be
persuaded that he was conversing with a party of white men and
induced to lay aside his reserve and join them. He then gave them
the interesting intelligence that there were two companies of
white men encamped in the neighborhood. This was cheering news to
Captain Bonneville; who hoped to find in one of them the
long-sought party of Matthieu. Pushing forward, therefore, with
renovated spirits, he reached Snake River by nightfall, and there
fixed his encampment.

Early the next morning (13th January, 1833) , diligent search was
made about the neighborhood for traces of the reported parties of
white men. An encampment was soon discovered about four miles
farther up the river, in which Captain Bonneville to his great
joy found two of Matthieu's men, from whom he learned that the
rest of his party would be there in the course of a few days. It
was a matter of great pride and selfgratulation to Captain
Bonneville that he had thus accomplished his dreary and doubtful
enterprise; and he determined to pass some time in this
encampment, both to await the return of Matthieu, and to give
needful repose to men and horses.

It was, in fact, one of the most eligible and delightful
wintering grounds in that whole range of country. The Snake River
here wound its devious way between low banks through the great
plain of the Three Butes; and was bordered by wide and fertile
meadows. It was studded with islands which, like the alluvial
bottoms, were covered with groves of cotton-wood, thickets of
willow, tracts of good lowland grass, and abundance of green
rushes. The adjacent plains were so vast in extent that no single
band of Indians could drive the buffalo out of them; nor was the
snow of sufficient depth to give any serious inconvenience.
Indeed, during the sojourn of Captain Bonneville in this
neighborhood, which was in the heart of winter, he found the
weather, with the exception of a few cold and stormy days,
generally mild and pleasant, freezing a little at night but
invariably thawing with the morning's sun-resembling the spring
weather in the middle parts of the United States.

The lofty range of the Three Tetons, those great landmarks of the
Rocky Mountains rising in the east and circling away to the north
and west of the great plain of Snake River, and the mountains of
Salt River and Portneuf toward the south, catch the earliest
falls of snow. Their white robes lengthen as the winter advances,
and spread themselves far into the plain, driving the buffalo in
herds to the banks of the river in quest of food; where they are
easily slain in great numbers.

Such were the palpable advantages of this winter encampment;
added to which, it was secure from the prowlings and plunderings
of any petty band of roving Blackfeet, the difficulties of
retreat rendering it unwise for those crafty depredators to
venture an attack unless with an overpowering force.

About ten miles below the encampment lay the Banneck Indians;
numbering about one hundred and twenty lodges. They are brave and
cunning warriors and deadly foes of the Blackfeet, whom they
easily overcome in battles where their forces are equal. They are
not vengeful and enterprising in warfare, however; seldom sending
war parties to attack the Blackfeet towns, but contenting
themselves with defending their own territories and house. About
one third of their warriors are armed with fusees, the rest with
bows and arrows.

As soon as the spring opens they move down the right bank of
Snake River and encamp at the heads of the Boisee and Payette.
Here their horses wax fat on good pasturage, while the tribe
revels in plenty upon the flesh of deer, elk, bear, and beaver.
They then descend a little further, and are met by the Lower Nez
Perces, with whom they trade for horses; giving in exchange
beaver, buffalo, and buffalo robes. Hence they strike upon the
tributary streams on the left bank of Snake River, and encamp at
the rise of the Portneuf and Blackfoot streams, in the buffalo
range. Their horses, although of the Nez Perce breed, are
inferior to the parent stock from being ridden at too early an
age, being often bought when but two years old and immediately
put to hard work. They have fewer horses, also, than most of
these migratory tribes.

At the time that Captain Bonneville came into the neighborhood of
these Indians, they were all in mourning for their chief,
surnamed The Horse. This chief was said to possess a charmed
life, or rather, to be invulnerable to lead; no bullet having
ever hit him, though he had been in repeated battles, and often
shot at by the surest marksmen. He had shown great magnanimity in
his intercourse with the white men. One of the great men of his
family had been slain in an attack upon a band of trappers
passing through the territories of his tribe. Vengeance had been
sworn by the Bannecks; but The Horse interfered, declaring
himself the friend of white men and, having great influence and
authority among his people, he compelled them to forcgo all
vindictive plans and to conduct themselves amicably whenever they
came in contact with the traders.

This chief had bravely fallen in resisting an attack made by the
Blackfeet upon his tribe, while encamped at the head of Godin
River. His fall in nowise lessened the faith of his people in his
charmed life; for they declared that it was not a bullet which
laid him low, but a bit of horn which had been shot into him by
some Blackfoot marksman aware, no doubt, of the inefficacy of
lead. Since his death there was no one with sufficient influence
over the tribe to restrain the wild and predatory propensities of
the young men. The consequence was they had become troublesome
and dangerous neighbors, openly friendly for the sake of traffic,
but disposed to commit secret depredations and to molest any
small party that might fall within their reach.

                               16
                                
Misadventures of Matthieu and his party   Return to the caches at
Salmon River   Battle between Nez Perces and Black feet   Heroism
       of a Nez Perce woman   Enrolled among the braves.

ON the 3d of February, Matthieu, with the residue of his band,
arrived in camp. He had a disastrous story to relate. After
parting with Captain Bonneville in Green River Valley he had
proceeded to the westward, keeping to the north of the Eutaw
Mountains, a spur of the great Rocky chain. Here he experienced
the most rugged travelling for his horses, and soon discovered
that there was but little chance of meeting the Shoshonie bands.
He now proceeded along Bear River, a stream much frequented by
trappers, intending to shape his course to Salmon River to rejoin
Captain Bonneville.

He was misled, however, either through the ignorance or treachery
of an Indian guide, and conducted into a wild valley where he lay
encamped during the autumn and the early part of the winter,
nearly buried in snow and almost starved. Early in the season he
detached five men, with nine horses, to proceed to the
neighborhood of the Sheep Rock, on Bear River, where game was
plenty, and there to procure a supply for the camp.

They had not proceeded far on their expedition when their trail
was discovered by a party of nine or ten Indians, who immediately
commenced a lurking pursuit, dogging them secretly for five or
six days. So long as their encampments were well chosen and a
proper watch maintained the wary savages kept aloof; at length,
observing that they were badly encamped, in a situation where
they might be approached with secrecy, the enemy crept stealthily
along under cover of the river bank, preparing to burst suddenly
upon their prey.

They had not advanced within striking distance, however, before
they were discovered by one of the trappers. He immediately but
silently gave the alarm to his companions. They all sprang upon
their horses and prepared to retreat to a safe position. One of
the party, however, named Jennings, doubted the correctness of
the alarm, and before he mounted his horse wanted to ascertain
the fact. His companions urged him to mount, but in vain; he was
incredulous and obstinate. A volley of firearms by the savages
dispelled his doubts, but so overpowered his nerves that he was
unable to get into his saddle. His comrades, seeing his peril and
confusion, generously leaped from their horses to protect him. A
shot from a rifle brought him to the earth; in his agony he
called upon the others not to desert him. Two of them, Le Roy and
Ross, after fighting desperately, were captured by the savages;
the remaining two vaulted into their saddles and saved themselves
by headlong flight, being pursued for nearly thirty miles. They
got safe back to Matthieu's camp, where their story inspired such
dread of lurking Indians that the hunters could not be prevailed
upon to undertake another foray in quest of provisions. They
remained, therefore, almost starving in their camp; now and then
killing an old or disabled horse for food, while the elk and the
mountain sheep roamed unmolested among the surrounding mountains.

The disastrous surprisal of this hunting party is cited by
Captain Bonneville to show the importance of vigilant watching
and judicious encampments in the Indian country. Most of this
kind of disasters to traders and trappers arise from some
careless inattention to the state of their arms and ammunition,
the placing of their horses at night, the position of their
camping ground, and the posting of their night watches. The
Indian is a vigilant and crafty foe, by no means given to
hair-brained assaults; he seldom attacks when he finds his foe
well prepared and on the alert. Caution is at least as
efficacious a protection against him as courage.

The Indians who made this attack were at first supposed to be
Blackfeet; until Captain Bonneville found subsequently, in the
camp of the Bannecks, a horse, saddle, and bridle, which he
recognized as having belonged to one of the hunters. The
Bannecks, however, stoutly denied having taken these spoils in
fight, and persisted in affirming that the outrage had been
perpetrated by a Blackfoot band.

Captain Bonneville remained on Snake River nearly three weeks
after the arrival of Matthieu and his party. At length his horses
having recovered strength sufficient for a journey, he prepared
to return to the Nez Perces, or rather to visit his caches on
Salmon River; that he might take thence goods and equipments for
the opening season. Accordingly, leaving sixteen men at Snake
River, he set out on the 19th of February with sixteen others on
his journey to the caches.

Fording the river, he proceeded to the borders of the deep snow,
when he encamped under the lee of immense piles of burned rock.
On the 21st he was again floundering through the snow, on the
great Snake River plain, where it lay to the depth of thirty
inches. It was sufficiently incrusted to bear a pedestrian, but
the poor horses broke through the crust, and plunged and strained
at every step. So lacerated were they by the ice that it was
necessary to change the front every hundred yards, and put a
different one in advance to break the way. The open prairies were
swept by a piercing and biting wind froIn the northwest. At
night, they had to task their ingenuity to provide shelter and
keep from freezing. In the first place, they dug deep holes in
the snow, piling it up in ramparts to windward as a protection
against the blast. Beneath these they spread buffalo skins, upon
which they stretched themselves in full dress, with caps, cloaks,
and moccasins, and covered themselves with numerous blankets;
notwithstanding all which they were often severely pinched with
the cold.

On the 28th of February they arrived on the banks of Godin River.
This stream emerges from the mountains opposite an eastern branch
of the Malade River, running southeast, forms a deep and swift
current about twenty yards wide, passing rapidly through a defile
to which it gives its name, and then enters the great plain
where, after meandering about forty miles, it is finally lost in
the region of the Burned Rocks.

On the banks of this river Captain Bonneville was so fortunate as
to come upon a buffalo trail. Following it up, he entered the
defile, where he remained encamped for two days to allow the
hunters time to kill and dry a supply of buffalo beef. In this
sheltered defile the weather was moderate and grass was already
sprouting more than an inch in height. There was abundance, too,
of the salt weed which grows most plentiful in clayey and
gravelly barrens. It resembles pennyroyal, and derives its name
from a partial saltness. It is a nourishing food for the horses
in the winter, but they reject it the moment the young grass
affords sufficient pasturage.

On the 6th of March, having cured sufficient meat, the party
resumed their march, and moved on with comparative ease,
excepting where they had to make their way through snow-drifts
which had been piled up by the wind.

On the 11th, a small cloud of smoke was observed rising in a deep
part of the defile. An encampment was instantly formed and scouts
were sent out to reconnoitre. They returned with intelligence
that it was a hunting party of Flatheads, returning from the
buffalo range laden with meat. Captain Bonneville joined them the
next day, and persuaded them to proceed with his party a few
miles below to the caches, whither he proposed also to invite the
Nez Perces, whom he hoped to find somewhere in this neighborhood.
In fact, on the 13th, he was rejoined by that friendly tribe who,
since he separated from them on Salmon River, had likewise been
out to hunt the buffalo, but had continued to be haunted and
harassed by their old enemies the Blackfeet, who, as usual, had
contrived to carry off many of their horses.

In the course of this hunting expedition, a small band of ten
lodges separated from the main body in search of better pasturage
for their horses. About the 1st of March, the scattered parties
of Blackfoot banditti united to the number of three hundred
fighting men, and determined upon some signal blow. Proceeding to
the former camping ground of the Nez Perces, they found the
lodges deserted; upon which they hid themselves among the willows
and thickets, watching for some straggler who might guide them to
the present "whereabout" of their intended victims. As fortune
would have it Kosato, the Blackfoot renegade, was the first to
pass along, accompanied by his blood-bought bride. He was on his
way from the main body of hunters to the little band of ten
lodges. The Blackfeet knew and marked him as he passed; he was
within bowshot of their ambuscade; yet, much as they thirsted for
his blood, they forbore to launch a shaft; sparing him for the
moment that he might lead them to their prey. Secretly following
his trail, they discovered the lodges of the unfortunate Nez
Perces, and assailed them with shouts and yellings. The Nez
Perces numbered only twenty men, and but nine were armed with
fusees. They showed themselves, however, as brave and skilful in
war as they had been mild and long-suffering in peace. Their
first care was to dig holes inside of their lodges; thus
ensconced they fought desperately, laying several of the enemy
dead upon the ground; while they, though Some of them were
wounded, lost not a single warrior.

During the heat of the battle, a woman of the Nez Perces, seeing
her warrior badly wounded and unable to fight, seized his bow and
arrows, and bravely and successfully defended his person,
contributing to the safety of the whole party.

In another part of the field of action, a Nez Perce had crouched
behind the trunk of a fallen tree, and kept up a galling fire
from his covert. A Blackfoot seeing this, procured a round log,
and placing it before him as he lay prostrate, rolled it forward
toward the trunk of the tree behind which his enemy lay crouched.
It was a moment of breathless interest; whoever first showed
himself would be in danger of a shot. The Nez Perce put an end to
the suspense. The moment the logs touched he Sprang upon his feet
and discharged the contents of his fusee into the back of his
antagonist. By this time the Blackfeet had got possession of the
horses, several of their warriors lay dead on the field, and the
Nez Perces, ensconced in their lodges, seemed resolved to defend
themselves to the last gasp. It so happened that the chief of the
Blackfeet party was a renegade from the Nez Perces; unlike
Kosato, however, he had no vindictive rage against his native
tribe, but was rather disposed, now he had got the booty, to
spare all unnecessary effusion of blood. He held a long parley,
therefore, with the besieged, and finally drew off his warriors,
taking with him seventy horses. It appeared, afterward, that the
bullets of the Blackfeet had been entirely expended in the course
of the battle, so that they were obliged to make use of stones as
substitute.

At the outset of the fight Kosato, the renegade, fought with fury
rather than valor, animating the others by word as well as deed.
A wound in the head from a rifle ball laid him senseless on the
earth. There his body remained when the battle was over, and the
victors were leading off the horses. His wife hung over him with
frantic lamentations. The conquerors paused and urged her to
leave the lifeless renegade, and return with them to her kindred.
She refused to listen to their solicitations, and they passed on.
As she sat watching the features of Kosato, and giving way to
passionate grief, she thought she perceived him to breathe. She
was not mistaken. The ball, which had been nearly spent before it
struck him, had stunned instead of killing him. By the ministry
of his faithful wife he gradually recovered, reviving to a
redoubled love for her, and hatred of his tribe.

As to the female who had so bravely defended her husband, she was
elevated by the tribe to a rank far above her sex, and beside
other honorable distinctions, was thenceforward permitted to take
a part in the war dances of the braves!

                               17
                                
  Opening of the caches   Detachments of Cerre and Hodgkiss  
  Salmon River Mountains   Superstition of an Indian trapper  
   Godin's River   Preparations for trapping   An alarm   An
interruption   A rival band   Phenomena of Snake River Plain  
Vast clefts and chasms   Ingulfed streams   Sublime scenery   A
                      grand buffalo hunt.

CAPTAIN BONNEVILLE found his caches perfectly secure, and having
secretly opened them he selected such articles as were necessary
to equip the free trappers and to supply the inconsiderable trade
with the Indians, after which he closed them again. The free
trappers, being newly rigged out and supplied, were in high
spirits, and swaggered gayly about the camp. To compensate all
hands for past sufferings, and to give a cheerful spur to further
operations, Captain Bonneville now gave the men what, in frontier
phrase, is termed "a regular blow-out."  It was a day of uncouth
gambols and frolics and rude feasting. The Indians joined in the
sports and games, and all was mirth and good-fellowship.

It was now the middle of March, and Captain Bonneville made
preparations to open the spring campaign. He had pitched upon
Malade River for his main trapping ground for the season. This
is a stream which rises among the great bed of mountains north of
the Lava Plain, and after a winding course falls into Snake
River. Previous to his departure the captain dispatched Mr.
Cerre, with a few men, to visit the Indian villages and purchase
horses; he furnished his clerk, Mr. Hodgkiss, also, with a small
stock of goods, to keep up a trade with the Indians during the
spring, for such peltries as they might collect, appointing the
caches on Salmon River as the point of rendezvous, where they
were to rejoin him on the 15th of June following.

This done he set out for Malade River, with a band of
twenty-eight men composed of hired and free trappers and Indian
hunters, together with eight squaws. Their route lay up along the
right fork of Salmon River, as it passes through the deep defile
of the mountains. They travelled very slowly, not above five
miles a day, for many of the horses were so weak that they
faltered and staggered as they walked. Pasturage, however, was
now growing plentiful. There was abundance of fresh grass, which
in some places had attained such height as to wave in the wind.
The native flocks of the wilderness, the mountain sheep, as they
are called by the trappers, were continually to be seen upon the
hills between which they passed, and a good supply of mutton was
provided by the hunters, as they were advancing toward a region
of scarcity.

In the course of his journey Captain Bonneville had occasion to
remark an instance of the many notions, and almost superstitions,
which prevail among the Indians, and among some of the white men,
with respect to the sagacity of the beaver. The Indian hunters of
his party were in the habit of exploring all the streams along
which they passed, in search of "beaver lodges," and occasionally
set their traps with some success. One of them, however, though
an experienced and skilful trapper, was invariably unsuccessful.
Astonished and mortified at such unusual bad luck, he at length
conceived the idea that there was some odor about his person of
which the beaver got scent and retreated at his approach. He
immediately set about a thorough purification. Making a rude
sweating-house on the banks of the river, he would shut himself
up until in a reeking perspiration, and then suddenly emerging,
would plunge into the river. A number of these sweatings and
plungings having, as he supposed, rendered his person perfectly
"inodorous," he resumed his trapping with renovated hope.

About the beginning of April they encamped upon Godin's River,
where they found the swamp full of "musk-rat houses." Here,
therefore, Captain Bonneville determined to remain a few days and
make his first regular attempt at trapping. That his maiden
campaign might open with spirit, he promised the Indians and free
trappers an extra price for every musk-rat they should take. All
now set to work for the next day's sport. The utmost animation
and gayety prevailed throughout the camp. Everything looked
auspicious for their spring campaign. The abundance of musk-rats
in the swamp was but an earnest of the nobler game they were to
find when they should reach the Malade River, and have a capital
beaver country all to themselves, where they might trap at their
leisure without molestation.

In the midst of their gayety a hunter came galloping into the
camp, shouting, or rather yelling, "A trail! a trail! -- lodge
poles! lodge poles!"

These were words full of meaning to a trapper's ear. They
intimated that there was some band in the neighborhood, and
probably a hunting party, as they had lodge poles for an
encampment. The hunter came up and told his story. He had
discovered a fresh trail, in which the traces made by the
dragging of lodge poles were distinctly visible. The buffalo,
too, had just been driven out of the neighborhood, which showed
that the hunters had already been on the range.

The gayety of the camp was at an end; all preparations for
musk-rat trapping were suspended, and all hands sallied forth to
examine the trail. Their worst fears were soon confirmed.
Infallible signs showed the unknown party in the advance to be
white men; doubtless, some rival band of trappers! Here was
competition when least expected; and that too by a party already
in the advance, who were driving the game before them. Captain
Bonneville had now a taste of the sudden transitions to which a
trapper's life is subject. The buoyant confidence in an
uninterrupted hunt was at an end; every countenance lowered with
gloom and disappointment.

Captain Bonneville immediately dispatched two spies to over-take
the rival party, and endeavor to learn their plans; in the
meantime, he turned his back upon the swamp and its musk-rat
houses and followed on at "long camps, which in trapper's
language is equivalent to long stages. On the 6th of April he met
his spies returning. They had kept on the trail like hounds until
they overtook the party at the south end of Godin's defile. Here
they found them comfortably encamped: twenty-two prime trappers,
all well appointed, with excellent horses in capital condition
led by Milton Sublette, and an able coadjutor named Jarvie, and
in full march for the Malade hunting ground. This was stunning
news. The Malade River was the only trapping ground within reach;
but to have to compete there with veteran trappers, perfectly at
home among the mountains, and admirably mounted, while they were
so poorly provided with horses and trappers, and had but one man
in their party acquainted with the country-it was out of the
question.

The only hope that now remained was that the snow, which still
lay deep among the mountains of Godin's River and blocked up the
usual pass to the Malade country, might detain the other party
until Captain Bonneville's horses should get once more into good
condition in their present ample pasturage.

The rival parties now encamped together, not out of
companionship, but to keep an eye upon each other. Day after day
passed by without any possibility of getting to the Malade
country. Sublette and Jarvie endeavored to force their way across
the mountain; but the snows lay so deep as to oblige them to turn
back. In the meantime the captain's horses were daily gaining
strength, and their hoofs improving, which had been worn and
battered by mountain service. The captain, also was increasing
his stock of provisions; so that the delay was all in his favor.

To any one who merely contemplates a map of the country this
difficulty of getting from Godin to Malade River will appear
inexplicable, as the intervening mountains terminate in the great
Snake River plain, so that, apparently, it would be perfectly
easy to proceed round their bases.

Here, however, occur some of the striking phenomena of this wild
and sublime region. The great lower plain which extends to the
feet of these mountains is broken up near their bases into
crests, and ridges resembling the surges of the ocean breaking on
a rocky shore.

In a line with the mountains the plain is gashed with numerous
and dangerous chasms, from four to ten feet wide, and of great
depth. Captain Bonneville attempted to sound some of these
openings, but without any satisfactory result. A stone dropped
into one of them reverberated against the sides for apparently a
very great depth, and, by its sound, indicated the same kind of
substance with the surface, as long as the strokes could be
heard. The horse, instinctively sagacious in avoiding danger,
shrinks back in alarm from the least of these chasms, pricking up
his ears, snorting and pawing, until permitted to turn away.

We have been told by a person well acquainted with the country
that it is sometimes necessary to travel fifty and sixty miles to
get round one of these tremendous ravines. Considerable streams,
like that of Godin's River, that run with a bold, free current,
lose themselves in this plain; some of them end in swamps, others
suddenly disappear, finding, no doubt, subterranean outlets.

Opposite to these chasms Snake River makes two desperate leaps
over precipices, at a short distance from each other; one twenty,
the other forty feet in height.

The volcanic plain in question forms an area of about sixty miles
in diameter, where nothing meets the eye but a desolate and awful
waste; where no grass grows nor water runs, and where nothing is
to be seen but lava. Ranges of mountains skirt this plain, and,
in Captain Bonneville's opinion, were formerly connected, until
rent asunder by some convulsion of nature. Far to the east the
Three Tetons lift their heads sublimely, and dominate this wide
sea of lava -- one of the most striking features of a wilderness
where everything seems on a scale of stern and simple grandeur.

We look forward with impatience for some able geologist to
explore this sublime but almost unknown region.

It was not until the 25th of April that the two parties of
trappers broke up their encampments, and undertook to cross over
the southwest end of the mountain by a pass explored by their
scouts. From various points of the mountain they commanded
boundless prospects of the lava plain, stretching away in cold
and gloomy barrenness as far as the eye could reach. On the
evening of the 26th they reached the plain west of the mountain,
watered by the Malade, the Boisee, and other streams, which
comprised the contemplated trapping-ground.

The country about the Boisee (or Woody) River is extolled by
Captain Bonneville as the most enchanting he had seen in the Far
West, presenting the mingled grandeur and beauty of mountain and
plain, of bright running streams and vast grassy meadows waving
to the breeze.

We shall not follow the captain throughout his trapping campaign,
which lasted until the beginning of June, nor detail all the
manoeuvres of the rival trapping parties and their various
schemes to outwit and out-trap each other. Suffice it to say
that, after having visited and camped about various streams with
varying success, Captain Bonneville set forward early in June for
the appointed rendezvous at the caches. On the way, he treated
his party to a grand buffalo hunt. The scouts had re ported
numerous herds in a plain beyond an intervening height. There
was an immediate halt; the fleetest horses were forthwith mounted
and the party advanced to the summit of the hill. Hence they
beheld the great plain below; absolutely swarming with buffalo.
Captain Bonneville now appointed the place where he would encamp;
and toward which the hunters were to drive the game. He cautioned
the latter to advance slowly, reserving the strength and speed of
the horses until within a moderate distance of the herds.
Twenty-two horsemen descended cautiously into the plain,
conformably to these directions. ""It was a beautiful sight,"
says the captain, ""to see the runners, as they are called,
advancing in column, at a slow trot, until within two hundred and
fifty yards of the outskirts of the herd, then dashing on at full
speed until lost in the immense multitude of buffaloes scouring
the plain in every direction." All was now tumult and wild
confusion. In the meantime Captain Bonneville and the residue of
the party moved on to the appointed camping ground; thither the
most expert runners succeeded in driving numbers of buffalo,
which were killed hard by the camp, and the flesh transported
thither without difficulty. In a little while the whole camp
looked like one great slaughter-house; the carcasses were
skilfully cut up, great fires were made, scaffolds erected for
drying and jerking beef, and an ample provision was made for
future subsistence. On the 15th of June, the precise day
appointed for the rendezvous, Captain Bonneville and his party
arrived safely at the caches.

Here he was joined by the other detachments of his main party,
all in good health and spirits. The caches were again opened,
supplies of various kinds taken out, and a liberal allowance of
aqua vitae distributed throughout the camp, to celebrate with
proper conviviality this merry meeting.

                              18.
                                
Meeting with Hodgkiss   Misfortunes of the Nez Perces   Schemes
  of Kosato, the renegado   His foray into the Horse Prairie-
Invasion of Black feet   Blue John and his forlorn hope   Their
generous enterprise-Their fate-Consternation and despair of the
village- Solemn obsequies -Attempt at Indian trade -Hudson's Bay
Company's monopoly-Arrangements for autumn- Breaking up of an
                          encampment.

HAVING now a pretty strong party, well armed and equipped,
Captain Bonneville no longer felt the necessity of fortifying
himself in the secret places and fastnesses of the mountains; but
sallied forth boldly into the Snake River plain, in search of his
clerk, Hodgkiss, who had remained with the Nez Perces. He found
him on the 24th of June, and learned from him another chapter of
misfortunes which had recently befallen that ill-fated race.

After the departure of Captain Bonneville in March, Kosato, the
renegade Blackfoot, had recovered from the wound received in
battle; and with his strength revived all his deadly hostility to
his native tribe. He now resumed his efforts to stir up the Nez
Perces to reprisals upon their old enemies; reminding them
incessantly of all the outrages and robberies they had recently
experienced, and assuring them that such would continue to be
their lot until they proved themselves men by some signal
retaliation.

The impassioned eloquence of the desperado at length produced an
effect; and a band of braves enlisted under his guidance, to
penetrate into the Blackfoot country, harass their Villages,
carry off their horses, and commit all kinds of depredations.

Kosato pushed forward on his foray as far as the Horse Prairie,
where he came upon a strong party of Blackfeet. Without waiting
to estimate their force, he attacked them with characteristic
fury, and was bravely seconded by his followers. The contest, for
a time, was hot and bloody; at length, as is customary with these
two tribes, they paused, and held a long parley, or rather a war
of words.

"What need," said the Blackfoot chief, tauntingly, "have the Nez
Perces to leave their homes, and sally forth on war parties, when
they have danger enough at their own doors? If you want fighting,
return to your villages; you will have plenty of it there. The
Blackfeet warriors have hitherto made war upon you as children.
They are now coming as men. A great force is at hand; they are on
their way to your towns, and are determined to rub out the very
name of the Nez Perces from the mountains. Return, I say, to your
towns, and fight there, if you wish to live any longer as a
people."

Kosato took him at his word; for he knew the character of his
native tribe. Hastening back with his band to the Nez Perces
village, he told all that he had seen and heard, and urged the
most prompt and strenuous measures for defence. The Nez Perces,
however, heard him with their accustomed phlegm; the threat of
the Blackfeet had been often made, and as often had proved a mere
bravado; such they pronounced it to be at present, and, of
course, took no precautions.

They were soon convinced that it was no empty menace. In a few
days a band of three hundred Blackfeet warriors appeared upon the
hills. All now was consternation in the village. The force of
the Nez Perces was too small to cope with the enemy in open
fight; many of the young men having gone to their relatives on
the Columbia to procure horses. The sages met in hurried council.
What was to be done to ward off a blow which threatened
annihilation? In this moment of imminent peril, a Pierced-nose
chief, named Blue John by the whites, offered to approach
secretly with a small, but chosen band, through a defile which
led to the encampment of the enemy, and, by a sudden onset, to
drive off the horses. Should this blow be successful, the spirit
and strength of the invaders would be broken, and the Nez Perces,
having horses, would be more than a match for them. Should it
fail, the village would not be worse off than at present, when
destruction appeared inevitable.

Twenty-nine of the choicest warriors instantly volunteered to
follow Blue John in this hazardous enterprise. They prepared for
it with the solemnity and devotion peculiar to the tribe. Blue
John consulted his medicine, or talismanic charm, such as every
chief keeps in his lodge as a supernatural protection. The oracle
assured him that his enterprise would be completely successful,
provided no rain should fall before he had passed through the
defile; but should it rain, his band would be utterly cut off.

The day was clear and bright; and Blue John anticipated that the
skies would be propitious. He departed in high spirits with his
forlorn hope; and never did band of braves make a more gallant
display-horsemen and horses being decorated and equipped in the
fiercest and most glaring style - glittering with arms and
ornaments, and fluttering with feathers.

The weather continued serene until they reached the defile; but
just as they were entering it a black cloud rose over the
mountain crest, and there was a sudden shower. The warriors
turned to their leader, as if to read his opinion of this unlucky
omen; but the countenance of Blue John remained unchanged, and
they continued to press forward. It was their hope to make their
way undiscovered to the very vicinity of the Blackfoot camp; but
they had not proceeded far in the defile, when they met a
scouting party of the enemy. They attacked and drove them among
the hills, and were pursuing them with great eagerness when they
heard shouts and yells behind them, and beheld the main body of
the Blackfeet advancing.

The second chief wavered a little at the sight and proposed an
instant retreat. "We came to fight!" replied Blue John, sternly.
Then giving his war-whoop, he sprang forward to the conflict.
His braves followed him. They made a headlong charge upon the
enemy; not with the hope of victory, but the determination to
sell their lives dearly. A frightful carnage, rather than a
regular battle, succeeded. The forlorn band laid heaps of their
enemies dead at their feet, but were overwhelmed with numbers and
pressed into a gorge of the mountain; where they continued to
fight until they were cut to pieces. One only, of the thirty,
survived. He sprang on the horse of a Blackfoot warrior whom he
had slain, and escaping at full speed, brought home the baleful
tidings to his village.

Who can paint the horror and desolation of the inhabitants? The
flower of their warriors laid low, and a ferocious enemy at their
doors. The air was rent by the shrieks and lamentations of the
women, who, casting off their ornaments and tearing their hair,
wandered about, frantically bewailing the dead and predicting
destruction to the living. The remaining warriors armed
themselves for obstinate defence; but showed by their gloomy
looks and sullen silence that they considered defence hopeless.
To their surprise the Blackfeet refrained from pursuing their
advantage; perhaps satisfied with the blood already shed, or
disheartened by the loss they had themselves sustained. At any
rate, they disappeared from the hills, and it was soon
ascertained that they had returned to the Horse Prairie.

The unfortunate Nez Perces now began once more to breathe. A few
of their warriors, taking pack-horses, repaired to the defile to
bring away the bodies of their slaughtered brethren. They found
them mere headless trunks; and the wounds with which they were
covered showed how bravely they had fought. Their hearts, too,
had been torn out and carried off; a proof of their signal valor;
for in devouring the heart of a foe renowned for bravery, or who
has distinguished himself in battle, the Indian victor thinks he
appropriates to himself the courage of the deceased.

Gathering the mangled bodies of the slain, and strapping them
across their pack-horses, the warriors returned, in dismal
procession, to the village. The tribe came forth to meet them;
the women with piercing cries and wailings; the men with downcast
countenances, in which gloom and sorrow seemed fixed as if in
marble. The mutilated and almost undistinguishable bodies were
placed in rows upon the ground, in the midst of the assemblage;
and the scene of heart-rending anguish and lamentation that
ensued would have confounded those who insist on Indian stoicism.

Such was the disastrous event that had overwhelmed the Nez Perces
tribe during the absence of Captain Bonneville; and he was
informed that Kosato, the renegade, who, being stationed in the
village, had been prevented from going on the forlorn hope, was
again striving to rouse the vindictive feelings of his adopted
brethren, and to prompt them to revenge the slaughter of their
devoted braves.

During his sojourn on the Snake River plain, Captain Bonneville
made one of his first essays at the strategy of the fur trade.
There was at this time an assemblage of Nez Perces, Flatheads,
and Cottonois Indians encamped together upon the plain; well
provided with beaver, which they had collected during the spring.
These they were waiting to traffic with a resident trader of the
Hudson's Bay Company, who was stationed among them, and with whom
they were accustomed to deal. As it happened, the trader was
almost entirely destitute of Indian goods; his spring supply not
having yet reached him. Captain Bonneville had secret
intelligence that the supplies were on their way, and would soon
arrive; he hoped, how-ever, by a prompt move, to anticipate their
arrival, and secure the market to himself. Throwing himself,
therefore, among the Indians, he opened his packs of merchandise
and displayed the most tempting wares: bright cloths, and scarlet
blankets, and glittering ornaments, and everything gay and
glorious in the eyes of warrior or squaw; all, however, was in
vain. The Hudson's Bay trader was a perfect master of his
business, thoroughly acquainted with the Indians he had to deal
with, and held such control over them that none dared to act
openly in opposition to his wishes; nay, more -- he came nigh
turning the tables upon the captain, and shaking the allegiance
of some of his free trappers, by distributing liquors among them.
The latter, therefore, was glad to give up a competition, where
the war was likely to be carried into his own camp.

In fact, the traders of the Hudson's Bay Company have advantages
over all competitors in the trade beyond the Rocky Mountains.
That huge monopoly centers within itself not merely its own
hereditary and long-established power and influence; but also
those of its ancient rival, but now integral part, the famous
Northwest Company. It has thus its races of traders, trappers,
hunters, and voyageurs, born and brought up in its service, and
inheriting from preceding generations a knowledge and aptitude in
everything connected with Indian life, and Indian traffic. In the
process of years, this company has been enabled to spread its
ramifications in every direction; its system of intercourse is
founded upon a long and intimate knowledge of the character and
necessities of the various tribes; and of all the fastnesses,
defiles, and favorable hunting grounds of the country. Their
capital, also, and the manner in which their supplies are
distributed at various posts, or forwarded by regular caravans,
keep their traders well supplied, and enable them to furnish
their goods to the Indians at a cheap rate. Their men, too, being
chiefly drawn from the Canadas, where they enjoy great influence
and control, are engaged at the most trifling wages, and
supported at little cost; the provisions which they take with
them being little more than Indian corn and grease. They are
brought also into the most perfect discipline and subordination,
especially when their leaders have once got them to their scene
of action in the heart of the wilderness.

These circumstances combine to give the leaders of the Hudson's
Bay Company a decided advantage over all the American companies
that come within their range, so that any close competition with
them is almost hopeless.

Shortly after Captain Bonneville's ineffectual attempt to
participate in the trade of the associated camp, the supplies of
the Hudson's Bay Company arrived; and the resident trader was
enabled to monopolize the market.

It was now the beginning of July; in the latter part of which
month Captain Bonneville had appointed a rendezvous at Horse
Creek in Green River Valley, with some of the parties which he
had detached in the preceding year. He now turned his thoughts
in that direction, and prepared for the journey.

The Cottonois were anxious for him to proceed at once to their
country; which, they assured him, abounded in beaver. The lands
of this tribe lie immediately north of those of the Flatheads and
are open to the inroads of the Blackfeet. It is true, the latter
professed to be their allies; but they had been guilty of so many
acts of perfidy, that the Cottonois had, latterly, renounced
their hollow friendship and attached themselves to the Flatheads
and Nez Perces. These they had accompanied in their migrations
rather than remain alone at home, exposed to the outrages of the
Blackfeet. They were now apprehensive that these marauders would
range their country during their absence and destroy the beaver;
this was their reason for urging Captain Bonneville to make it
his autumnal hunting ground. The latter, however, was not to be
tempted; his engagements required his presence at the rendezvous
in Green River Valley; and he had already formed his ulterior
plans.

An unexpected difficulty now arose. The free trappers suddenly
made a stand, and declined to accompany him. It was a long and
weary journey; the route lay through Pierre's Hole, and other
mountain passes infested by the Blackfeet, and recently the
scenes of sanguinary conflicts. They were not disposed to
undertake such unnecessary toils and dangers, when they had good
and secure trapping grounds nearer at hand, on the head-waters of
Salmon River.

As these were free and independent fellows, whose will and whim
were apt to be law -- who had the whole wilderness before them,
"where to choose," and the trader of a rival company at hand,
ready to pay for their services -- it was necessary to bend to
their wishes. Captain Bonneville fitted them out, therefore, for
the hunting ground in question; appointing Mr. Hodgkiss to act as
their partisan, or leader, and fixing a rendezvous where he
should meet them in the course of the ensuing winter. The brigade
consisted of twenty-one free trappers and four or five hired men
as camp-keepers. This was not the exact arrangement of a trapping
party; which when accurately organized is composed of two thirds
trappers whose duty leads them continually abroad in pursuit of
game; and one third camp-keepers who cook, pack, and unpack; set
up the tents, take care of the horses and do all other duties
usually assigned by the Indians to their women. This part of the
service is apt to be fulfilled by French creoles from Canada and
the valley of the Mississippi.

In the meantime the associated Indians having completed their
trade and received their supplies, were all ready to disperse in
various directions. As there was a formidable band of Blackfeet
just over a mountain to the northeast, by which Hodgkiss and his
free trappers would have to pass; and as it was known that those
sharp-sighted marauders had their scouts out watching every
movement of the encampments, so as to cut off stragglers or weak
detachments, Captain Bonneville prevailed upon the Nez Perces to
accompany Hodgkiss and his party until they should be beyond the
range of the enemy.

The Cottonois and the Pends Oreilles determined to move together
at the same time, and to pass close under the mountain infested
by the Blackfeet; while Captain Bonneville, with his party, was
to strike in an opposite direction to the southeast, bending his
course for Pierre's Hole, on his way to Green River.

Accordingly, on the 6th of July, all the camps were raised at the
same moment; each party taking its separate route. The scene was
wild and picturesque; the long line of traders, trappers, and
Indians, with their rugged and fantastic dresses and
accoutrements; their varied weapons, their innumerable horses,
some under the saddle, some burdened with packages, others
following in droves; all stretching in lengthening cavalcades
across the vast landscape, making for different points of the
plains and mountains.

                              19.
                                
Precautions in dangerous defiles   Trappers' mode of defence on a
prairie   A mysterious visitor   Arrival in Green River Valley  
Adventures of the detachments   The forlorn partisan   His tale
                         of disasters.

AS the route of Captain Bonneville lay through what was
considered the most perilous part of this region of dangers, he
took all his measures with military skill, and observed the
strictest circumspection. When on the march, a small scouting
party was thrown in the advance to reconnoitre the country
through which they were to pass. The encampments were selected
with great care, and a watch was kept up night and day. The
horses were brought in and picketed at night, and at daybreak a
party was sent out to scour the neighborhood for half a mile
round, beating up every grove and thicket that could give shelter
to a lurking foe. When all was reported safe, the horses were
cast loose and turned out to graze. Were such precautions
generally observed by traders and hunters, we should not so often
hear of parties being surprised by the Indians.

Having stated the military arrangements of the captain, we may
here mention a mode of defence on the open prairie, which we have
heard from a veteran in the Indian trade. When a party of
trappers is on a journey with a convoy of goods or peltries,
every man has three pack-horses under his care; each horse laden
with three packs. Every man is provided with a picket with an
iron head, a mallet, and hobbles, or leathern fetters for the
horses. The trappers proceed across the prairie in a long line;
or sometimes three parallel lines, sufficiently distant from each
other to prevent the packs from interfering. At an alarm, when
there is no covert at hand, the line wheels so as to bring the
front to the rear and form a circle. All then dismount, drive
their pickets into the ground in the centre, fasten the horses to
them, and hobble their forelegs, so that, in case of alarm, they
cannot break away. Then they unload them, and dispose of their
packs as breastworks on the periphery of the circle; each man
having nine packs behind which to shelter himself. In this
promptly-formed fortress, they await the assault of the enemy,
and are enabled to set large bands of Indians at defiance.

The first night of his march, Captain Bonneville encamped upon
Henry's Fork; an upper branch of Snake River, called after the
first American trader that erected a fort beyond the mountains.
About an hour after all hands had come to a halt the clatter of
hoofs was heard, and a solitary female, of the Nez Perce tribe,
came galloping up. She was mounted on a mustang or half wild
horse, which she managed by a long rope hitched round the under
jaw by way of bridle. Dismounting, she walked silently into the
midst of the camp, and there seated herself on the ground, still
holding her horse by the long halter.

The sudden and lonely apparition of this woman, and her calm yet
resolute demeanor, awakened universal curiosity. The hunters and
trappers gathered round, and gazed on her as something
mysterious. She remained silent, but maintained her air of
calmness and self-possession. Captain Bonneville approached and
interrogated her as to the object of her mysterious visit. Her
answer was brief but earnest -- "I love the whites -- I will go
with them." She was forthwith invited to a lodge, of which she
readily took possession, and from that time forward was
considered one of the camp.

In consequence, very probably, of the military precautions of
Captain Bonneville, he conducted his party in safety through this
hazardous region. No accident of a disastrous kind occurred,
excepting the loss of a horse, which, in passing along the giddy
edge of a precipice, called the Cornice, a dangerous pass between
Jackson's and Pierre's Hole, fell over the brink, and was dashed
to pieces.

On the 13th of July (1833), Captain Bonneville arrived at Green
River. As he entered the valley, he beheld it strewed in every
direction with the carcasses of buffaloes. It was evident that
Indians had recently been there, and in great numbers. Alarmed at
this sight, he came to a halt, and as soon as it was dark, sent
out spies to his place of rendezvous on Horse Creek, where he had
expected to meet with his detached parties of trappers on the
following day. Early in the morning the spies made their
appearance in the camp, and with them came three trappers of one
of his bands, from the rendezvous, who told him his people were
all there expecting him. As to the slaughter among the buffaloes,
it had been made by a friendly band of Shoshonies, who had fallen
in with one of his trapping parties, and accompanied them to the
rendezvous. Having imparted this intelligence, the three worthies
from the rendezvous broached a small keg of "alcohol," which they
had brought with them. to enliven this merry meeting. The liquor
went briskly round; all absent friends were toasted, and the
party moved forward to the rendezvous in high spirits.

The meeting of associated bands, who have been separated from
each other on these hazardous enterprises, is always interesting;
each having its tales of perils and adventures to relate. Such
was the case with the various detachments of Captain Bonneville's
company, thus brought together on Horse Creek. Here was the
detachment of fifty men which he had sent from Salmon River, in
the preceding month of November, to winter on Snake River. They
had met with many crosses and losses in the course of their
spring hunt, not so much from Indians as from white men. They
had come in competition with rival trapping parties, particularly
one belonging to the Rocky Mountain Fur Company; and they had
long stories to relate of their manoeuvres to forestall or
distress each other. In fact, in these virulent and sordid
competitions, the trappers of each party were more intent upon
injuring their rivals, than benefitting themselves; breaking each
other's traps, trampling and tearing to pieces the beaver lodges,
and doing every thing in their power to mar the success of the
hunt. We forbear to detail these pitiful contentions.

The most lamentable tale of disasters, however, that Captain
Bonneville had to hear, was from a partisan, whom he had detached
in the preceding year, with twenty men, to hunt through the
outskirts of the Crow country, and on the tributary streams of
the Yellowstone; whence he was to proceed and join him in his
winter quarters on Salmon River. This partisan appeared at the
rendezvous without his party, and a sorrowful tale of disasters
had he to relate. In hunting the Crow country, he fell in with a
village of that tribe; notorious rogues,  jockeys, and horse
stealers, and errant scamperers of the mountains. These decoyed
most of his men to desert, and carry off horses, traps, and
accoutrements. When he attempted to retake the deserters, the
Crow warriors ruffled up to him and declared the deserters were
their good friends, had determined to remain among them, and
should not be molested. The poor partisan, therefore, was fain to
leave his vagabonds among these birds of their own feather, and
being too weak in numbers to attempt the dangerous pass across
the mountains to meet Captain Bonneville on Salmon River, he
made, with the few that remained faithful to him, for the
neighborhood of Tullock's Fort, on the Yellowstone, under the
protection of which he went into winter quarters.

He soon found out that the neighborhood of the fort was nearly as
bad as the neighborhood of the Crows. His men were continually
stealing away thither, with whatever beaver skins they could
secrete or lay their hands on. These they would exchange with the
hangers-on of the fort for whiskey, and then revel in drunkeness
and debauchery.

The unlucky partisan made another move. Associating with his
party a few free trappers, whom he met with in this neighborhood,
he started off early in the spring to trap on the head waters of
Powder River. In the course of the journey, his horses were so
much jaded in traversing a steep mountain, that he was induced to
turn them loose to graze during the night. The place was lonely;
the path was rugged; there was not the sign of an Indian in the
neighborhood; not a blade of grass that had been turned by a
footstep. But who can calculate on security in the midst of the
Indian country, where the foe lurks in silence and secrecy, and
seems to come and go on the wings of the wind? The horses had
scarce been turned loose, when a couple of Arickara (or Rickaree)
warriors entered the camp. They affected a frank and friendly
demeanor; but their appearance and movements awakened the
suspicions of some of the veteran trappers, well versed in Indian
wiles. Convinced that they were spies sent on some sinister
errand, they took them in custody, and set to work to drive in
the horses. It was too late -- the horses were already gone. In
fact, a war party of Arickaras had been hovering on their trail
for several days, watching with the patience and perseverance of
Indians, for some moment of negligence and fancied security, to
make a successful swoop. The two spies had evidently been sent
into the camp to create a diversion, while their confederates
carried off the spoil.

The unlucky partisan, thus robbed of his horses, turned furiously
on his prisoners, ordered them to be bound hand and foot, and
swore to put them to death unless his property were restored. The
robbers, who soon found that their spies were in captivity, now
made their appearance on horseback, and held a parley. The sight
of them, mounted on the very horses they had stolen, set the
blood of the mountaineers in a ferment; but it was useless to
attack them, as they would have but to turn their steeds and
scamper out of the reach of pedestrians. A negotiation was now
attempted. The Arickaras offered what they considered fair terms;
to barter one horse, or even two horses, for a prisoner. The
mountaineers spurned at their offer, and declared that, unless
all the horses were relinquished, the prisoners should be burnt
to death. To give force to their threat, a pyre of logs and
fagots was heaped up and kindled into a blaze.

The parley continued; the Arickaras released one horse and then
another, in earnest of their proposition; finding, however, that
nothing short of the relinquishment of all their spoils would
purchase the lives of the captives, they abandoned them to their
fate, moving off with many parting words and lamentable howlings.
The prisoners seeing them depart, and knowing the horrible fate
that awaited them, made a desperate effort to escape. They
partially succeeded, but were severely wounded and retaken; then
dragged to the blazing pyre, and burnt to death in the sight of
their retreating comrades.

Such are the savage cruelties that white men learn to practise,
who mingle in savage life; and such are the acts that lead to
terrible recrimination on the part of the Indians. Should we hear
of any atrocities committed by the Arickaras upon captive white
men, let this signal and recent provocation be borne in mind.
Individual cases of the kind dwell in the recollections of whole
tribes; and it is a point of honor and conscience to revenge
them.

The loss of his horses completed the ruin of the unlucky
partisan. It was out of his power to prosecute his hunting, or to
maintain his party; the only thought now was how to get back to
civilized life. At the first water-course, his men built canoes,
and committed themselves to the stream. Some engaged themselves
at various trading establishments at which they touched, others
got back to the settlements. As to the partisan, he found an
opportunity to make his way to the rendezvous at Green River
Valley; which he reached in time to render to Captain Bonneville
this forlorn account of his misadventures.

                               20
                                
   Gathering in Green River valley Visitings and feastings of
leaders Rough wassailing among the trappers Wild blades of the
mountains Indian belles Potency of bright beads and red blankets
Arrival of supplies Revelry and extravagance Mad wolves The lost
                            Indian

THE GREEN RIVER VALLEY was at this time the scene of one of those
general gatherings of traders, trappers, and Indians, that we
have already mentioned. The three rival companies, which, for a
year past had been endeavoring to out-trade, out-trap and out-wit
each other, were here encamped in close proximity, awaiting their
annual supplies. About four miles from the rendezvous of Captain
Bonneville was that of the American Fur Company, hard by which,
was that also of the Rocky Mountain Fur Company.

After the eager rivalry and almost hostility displayed by these
companies in their late campaigns, it might be expected that,
when thus brought in juxtaposition, they would hold themselves
warily and sternly aloof from each other, and, should they happen
to come in contact, brawl and bloodshed would ensue.

No such thing! Never did rival lawyers, after a wrangle at the
bar, meet with more social good humor at a circuit dinner. The
hunting season over, all past tricks and maneuvres are forgotten,
all feuds and bickerings buried in oblivion. From the middle of
June to the middle of September, all trapping is suspended; for
the beavers are then shedding their furs and their skins are of
little value. This, then, is the trapper's holiday, when he is
all for fun and frolic, and ready for a saturnalia among the
mountains.

At the present season, too, all parties were in good humor. The
year had been productive. Competition, by threatening to lessen
their profits, had quickened their wits, roused their energies,
and made them turn every favorable chance to the best advantage;
so that, on assembling at their respective places of rendezvous,
each company found itself in possession of a rich stock of
peltries.

The leaders of the different companies, therefore, mingled on
terms of perfect good fellowship; interchanging visits, and
regaling each other in the best style their respective camps
afforded. But the rich treat for the worthy captain was to see
the "chivalry" of the various encampments, engaged in contests of
skill at running, jumping, wrestling, shooting with the rifle,
and running horses. And then their rough hunters' feastings and
carousels. They drank together, they sang, they laughed, they
whooped; they tried to out-brag and out-lie each other in stories
of their adventures and achievements. Here the free trappers were
in all their glory; they considered themselves the "cocks of the
walk," and always carried the highest crests. Now and then
familiarity was pushed too far, and would effervesce into a
brawl, and a "rough and tumble" fight; but it all ended in
cordial reconciliation and maudlin endearment.

The presence of the Shoshonie tribe contributed occasionally to
cause temporary jealousies and feuds. The Shoshonie beauties
became objects of rivalry among some of the amorous mountaineers.
Happy was the trapper who could muster up a red blanket, a string
of gay beads, or a paper of precious vermilion, with which to win
the smiles of a Shoshonie fair one.

The caravans of supplies arrived at the valley just at this
period of gallantry and good fellowship. Now commenced a scene of
eager competition and wild prodigality at the different
encampments. Bales were hastily ripped open, and their motley
contents poured forth. A mania for purchasing spread itself
throughout the several bands--munitions for war, for hunting, for
gallantry, were seized upon with equal avidity--rifles, hunting
knives, traps, scarlet cloth, red blankets, garish beads, and
glittering trinkets, were bought at any price, and scores run up
without any thought how they were ever to be rubbed off. The free
trappers, especially, were extravagant in their purchases. For a
free mountaineer to pause at a paltry consideration of dollars
and cents, in the attainment of any object that might strike his
fancy, would stamp him with the mark of the beast in the
estimation of his comrades. For a trader to refuse one of these
free and flourishing blades a credit, whatever unpaid scores
might stare him in the face, would be a flagrant affront scarcely
to be forgiven.

Now succeeded another outbreak of revelry and extravagance. The
trappers were newly fitted out and arrayed, and dashed about with
their horses caparisoned in Indian style. The Shoshonie beauties
also flaunted about in all the colors of the rainbow. Every freak
of prodigality was indulged to its fullest extent, and in a
little while most of the trappers, having squandered away all
their wages, and perhaps run knee-deep in debt, were ready for
another hard campaign in the wilderness.

During this season of folly and frolic, there was an alarm of mad
wolves in the two lower camps. One or more of these animals
entered the camps for three nights successively, and bit several
of the people.

Captain Bonneville relates the case of an Indian, who was a
universal favorite in the lower camp. He had been bitten by one
of these animals. Being out with a party shortly afterwards, he
grew silent and gloomy, and lagged behind the rest as if he
wished to leave them. They halted and urged him to move faster,
but he entreated them not to approach him, and, leaping from his
horse, began to roll frantically on the earth, gnashing his teeth
and foaming at the mouth. Still he retained his senses, and
warned his companions not to come near him, as he should not be
able to restrain himself from biting them. They hurried off to
obtain relief; but on their return he was nowhere to be found.
His horse and his accoutrements remained upon the spot. Three or
four days afterwards a solitary Indian, believed to be the same,
was observed crossing a valley, and pursued; but he darted away
into the fastnesses of the mountains, and was seen no more.

Another instance we have from a different person who was present
in the encampment. One of the men of the Rocky Mountain Fur
Company had been bitten. He set out shortly afterwards in company
with two white men on his return to the settlements. In the
course of a few days he showed symptoms of hydrophobia, and
became raving toward night. At length, breaking away from his
companions, he rushed into a thicket of willows, where they left
him to his fate!

                               21
                                
Schemes of Captain Bonneville The Great Salt Lake Expedition to
     explore it Preparations for a journey to the Bighorn

CAPTAIN BONNEVILLE now found himself at the head of a hardy,
well-seasoned and well-appointed company of trappers, all
benefited by at least one year's experience among the mountains,
and capable of protecting themselves from Indian wiles and
stratagems, and of providing for their subsistence wherever game
was to be found. He had, also, an excellent troop of horses, in
prime condition, and fit for hard service. He determined,
therefore, to strike out into some of the bolder parts of his
scheme. One of these was to carry his expeditions into some of
the unknown tracts of the Far West, beyond what is generally
termed the buffalo range. This would have something of the merit
and charm of discovery, so dear to every brave and adventurous
spirit. Another favorite project was to establish a trading post
on the lower part of the Columbia River, near the Multnomah
valley, and to endeavor to retrieve for his country some of the
lost trade of Astoria.

The first of the above mentioned views was, at present, uppermost
in his mind--the exploring of unknown regions. Among the grand
features of the wilderness about which he was roaming, one had
made a vivid impression on his mind, and been clothed by his
imagination with vague and ideal charms. This is a great lake of
salt water, laving the feet of the mountains, but extending far
to the west-southwest, into one of those vast and elevated
plateaus of land, which range high above the level of the
Pacific.

Captain Bonneville gives a striking account of the lake when seen
from the land. As you ascend the mountains about its shores, says
he, you behold this immense body of water spreading itself before
you, and stretching further and further, in one wide and
far-reaching expanse, until the eye, wearied with continued and
strained attention, rests in the blue dimness of distance, upon
lofty ranges of mountains, confidently asserted to rise from the
bosom of the waters. Nearer to you, the smooth and unruffled
surface is studded with little islands, where the mountain sheep
roam in considerable numbers. What extent of lowland may be
encompassed by the high peaks beyond, must remain for the present
matter of mere conjecture though from the form of the summits,
and the breaks which may be discovered among them, there can be
little doubt that they are the sources of streams calculated to
water large tracts, which are probably concealed from view by the
rotundity of the lake's surface. At some future day, in all
probability, the rich harvest of beaver fur, which may be
reasonably anticipated in such a spot, will tempt adventurers to
reduce all this doubtful region to the palpable certainty of a
beaten track. At present, however, destitute of the means of
making boats, the trapper stands upon the shore, and gazes upon a
promised land which his feet are never to tread.

Such is the somewhat fanciful view which Captain Bonneville gives
to this great body of water. He has evidently taken part of his
ideas concerning it from the representations of others, who have
somewhat exaggerated its features. It is reported to be about one
hundred and fifty miles long, and fifty miles broad. The ranges
of mountain peaks which Captain Bonneville speaks of, as rising
from its bosom, are probably the summits of mountains beyond it,
which may be visible at a vast distance, when viewed from an
eminence, in the transparent atmosphere of these lofty regions.
Several large islands certainly exist in the lake; one of which
is said to be mountainous, but not by any means to the extent
required to furnish the series of peaks above mentioned.

Captain Sublette, in one of his early expeditions across the
mountains, is said to have sent four men in a skin canoe, to
explore the lake, who professed to have navigated all round it;
but to have suffered excessively from thirst, the water of the
lake being extremely salt, and there being no fresh streams
running into it.

Captain Bonneville doubts this report, or that the men
accomplished the circumnavigation, because, he says, the lake
receives several large streams from the mountains which bound it
to the east. In the spring, when the streams are swollen by rain
and by the melting of the snows, the lake rises several feet
above its ordinary level during the summer, it gradually subsides
again, leaving a sparkling zone of the finest salt upon its
shores.

The elevation of the vast plateau on which this lake is situated,
is estimated by Captain Bonneville at one and three-fourths of a
mile above the level of the ocean. The admirable purity and
transparency of the atmosphere in this region, allowing objects
to be seen, and the report of firearms to be heard, at an
astonishing distance; and its extreme dryness, causing the wheels
of wagons to fall in pieces, as instanced in former passages of
this work, are proofs of the great altitude of the Rocky Mountain
plains. That a body of salt water should exist at such a height
is cited as a singular phenomenon by Captain Bonneville, though
the salt lake of Mexico is not much inferior in elevation.

To have this lake properly explored, and all its secrets
revealed, was the grand scheme of the captain for the present
year; and while it was one in which his imagination evidently
took a leading part, he believed it would be attended with great
profit, from the numerous beaver streams with which the lake must
be fringed.

This momentous undertaking he confided to his lieutenant, Mr.
Walker, in whose experience and ability he had great confidence.
He instructed him to keep along the shores of the lake, and trap
in all the streams on his route; also to keep a journal, and
minutely to record the events of his journey, and everything
curious or interesting, making maps or charts of his route, and
of the surrounding country.

No pains nor expense were spared in fitting out the party, of
forty men, which he was to command. They had complete supplies
for a year, and were to meet Captain Bonneville in the ensuing
summer, in the valley of Bear River, the largest tributary of the
Salt Lake, which was to be his point of general rendezvous.

The next care of Captain Bonneville was to arrange for the safe
transportation of the peltries which he had collected to the
Atlantic States. Mr. Robert Campbell, the partner of Sublette,
was at this time in the rendezvous of the Rocky Mountain Fur
Company, having brought up their supplies. He was about to set
off on his return, with the peltries collected during the year,
and intended to proceed through the Crow country, to the head of
navigation on the Bighorn River, and to descend in boats down
that river, the Missouri, and the Yellowstone, to St. Louis.

Captain Bonneville determined to forward his peltries by the same
route, under the especial care of Mr. Cerre. By way of escort, he
would accompany Cerre to the point of embarkation, and then make
an autumnal hunt in the Crow country.

                               22
                                
The Crow country A Crow paradise Habits of the Crows Anecdotes of
Rose, the renegade white man  His fights with the Blackfeet His
    elevation His death Arapooish, the Crow chief His eagle
        Adventure of Robert Campbell Honor among Crows

BEFORE WE ACCOMPANY Captain Bonneville into the Crow country, we
will impart a few facts about this wild region, and the wild
people who inhabit it. We are not aware of the precise
boundaries, if there are any, of the country claimed by the
Crows; it appears to extend from the Black Hills to the Rocky
Mountains, including a part of their lofty ranges, and embracing
many of the plains and valleys watered by the Wind River, the
Yellowstone, the Powder River, the Little Missouri, and the
Nebraska. The country varies in soil and climate; there are vast
plains of sand and clay, studded with large red sand-hills; other
parts are mountainous and picturesque; it possesses warm springs,
and coal mines, and abounds with game.

But let us give the account of the country as rendered by
Arapooish, a Crow chief, to Mr. Robert Campbell, of the Rocky
Mountain Fur Company.

"The Crow country," said he, "is a good country. The Great Spirit
has put it exactly in the right place; while you-are in it you
fare well; whenever you go out of it, whichever way you travel,
you fare worse.

"If you go to the south, you have to wander over great barren
plains; the water is warm and bad, and you meet the fever and
ague.

"To the north it is cold; the winters are long and bitter, with
no grass; you cannot keep horses there, but must travel with
dogs. What is a country without horses?

"On the Columbia they are poor and dirty, paddle about in canoes,
and eat fish. Their teeth are worn out; they are always taking
fish-bones out of their mouths. Fish is poor food.

"To the east, they dwell in villages; they live well; but they
drink the muddy water of the Missouri--that is bad. A Crow's dog
would not drink such water.

"About the forks of the Missouri is a fine country; good water;
good grass; plenty of buffalo. In summer, it is almost as good as
the Crow country; but in winter it is cold; the grass is gone;
and there is no salt weed for the horses.

"The Crow country is exactly in the right place. It has snowy
mountains and sunny plains; all kinds of climates and good things
for every season. When the summer heats scorch the prairies, you
can draw up under the mountains, where the air is sweet and cool,
the grass fresh, and the bright streams come tumbling out of the
snow-banks. There you can hunt the elk, the deer, and the
antelope, when their skins are fit for dressing; there you will
find plenty of white bears and mountain sheep.

"In the autumn, when your horses are fat and strong from the
mountain pastures, you can go down into the plains and hunt the
buffalo, or trap beaver on the streams. And when winter comes on,
you can take shelter in the woody bottoms along the rivers; there
you will find buffalo meat for yourselves, and cotton-wood bark
for your horses: or you may winter in the Wind River valley,
where there is salt weed in abundance.

"The Crow country is exactly in the right place. Everything good
is to be found there. There is no country like the Crow country."

Such is the eulogium on his country by Arapooish.

We have had repeated occasions to speak of the restless and
predatory habits of the Crows. They can muster fifteen hundred
fighting men, but their incessant wars with the Blackfeet, and
their vagabond, predatory habits, are gradually wearing them out.

In a recent work, we related the circumstance of a white man
named Rose, an outlaw, and a designing vagabond, who acted as
guide and interpreter to Mr. Hunt and his party, on their journey
across the mountains to Astoria, who came near betraying them
into the hands of the Crows, and who remained among the tribe,
marrying one of their women, and adopting their congenial habits.
A few anecdotes of the subsequent fortunes of that renegade may
not be uninteresting, especially as they are connected with the
fortunes of the tribe.

Rose was powerful in frame and fearless in spirit; and soon by
his daring deeds took his rank among the first braves of the
tribe. He aspired to command, and knew it was only to be attained
by desperate exploits. He distinguished himself in repeated
actions with Blackfeet. On one occasion, a band of those savages
had fortified themselves within a breastwork, and could not be
harmed. Rose proposed to storm the work. "Who will take the
lead?" was the demand. "I!" cried he; and putting himself at
their head, rushed forward. The first Blackfoot that opposed him
he shot down with his rifle, and, snatching up the war-club of
his victim, killed four others within the fort. The victory was
complete, and Rose returned to the Crow village covered with
glory, and bearing five Blackfoot scalps, to be erected as a
trophy before his lodge. From this time, he was known among the
Crows by the name of Che-ku-kaats, or "the man who killed five."
He became chief of the village, or rather band, and for a time
was the popular idol. His popularity soon awakened envy among the
native braves; he was a stranger, an intruder, a white man. A
party seceded from his command. Feuds and civil wars succeeded
that lasted for two or three years, until Rose, having contrived
to set his adopted brethren by the ears, left them, and went down
the Missouri in 1823. Here he fell in with one of the earliest
trapping expeditions sent by General Ashley across the mountains.
It was conducted by Smith, Fitzpatrick, and Sublette. Rose
enlisted with them as guide and interpreter. When he got them
among the Crows, he was exceedingly generous with their goods;
making presents to the braves of his adopted tribe, as became a
high-minded chief.

This, doubtless, helped to revive his popularity. In that
expedition, Smith and Fitzpatrick were robbed of their horses in
Green River valley; the place where the robbery took place still
bears the name of Horse Creek. We are not informed whether the
horses were stolen through the instigation and management of
Rose; it is not improbable, for such was the perfidy he had
intended to practice on a former occasion toward Mr. Hunt and his
party.

The last anecdote we have of Rose is from an Indian trader. When
General Atkinson made his military expedition up the Missouri, in
1825, to protect the fur trade, he held a conference with the
Crow nation, at which Rose figured as Indian dignitary and Crow
interpreter. The military were stationed at some little distance
from the scene of the "big talk"; while the general and the
chiefs were smoking pipes and making speeches, the officers,
supposing all was friendly, left the troops, and drew near the
scene of ceremonial. Some of the more knowing Crows, perceiving
this, stole quietly to the camp, and, unobserved, contrived to
stop the touch-holes of the field-pieces with dirt. Shortly
after, a misunderstanding occurred in the conference: some of the
Indians, knowing the cannon to be useless, became insolent. A
tumult arose. In the confusion, Colonel O'Fallan snapped a pistol
in the face of a brave, and knocked him down with the butt end.
The Crows were all in a fury. A chance-medley fight was on the
point of taking place, when Rose, his natural sympathies as a
white man suddenly recurring, broke the stock of his fusee over
the head of a Crow warrior, and laid so vigorously about him with
the barrel, that he soon put the whole throng to flight. Luckily,
as no lives had been lost, this sturdy rib roasting calmed the
fury of the Crows, and the tumult ended without serious
consequences.

What was the ultimate fate of this vagabond hero is not
distinctly known. Some report him to have fallen a victim to
disease, brought on by his licentious life; others assert that he
was murdered in a feud among the Crows. After all, his residence
among these savages, and the influence he acquired over them,
had, for a time, some beneficial effects. He is said, not merely
to have rendered them more formidable to the Blackfeet, but to
have opened their eyes to the policy of cultivating the
friendship of the white men.

After Rose's death, his policy continued to be cultivated, with
indifferent success, by Arapooish, the chief already mentioned,
who had been his great friend, and whose character he had
contributed to develope. This sagacious chief endeavored, on
every occasion, to restrain the predatory propensities of his
tribe when directed against the white men. "If we keep friends
with them," said he, "we have nothing to fear from the Blackfeet,
and can rule the mountains." Arapooish pretended to be a great
"medicine man", a character among the Indians which is a compound
of priest, doctor, prophet, and conjurer. He carried about with
him a tame eagle, as his "medicine" or familiar. With the white
men, he acknowledged that this was all charlatanism, but said it
was necessary, to give him weight and influence among his people.

Mr. Robert Campbell, from whom we have most of these facts, in
the course of one of his trapping expeditions, was quartered in
the village of Arapooish, and a guest in the lodge of the
chieftain. He had collected a large quantity of furs, and,
fearful of being plundered, deposited but a part in the lodge of
the chief; the rest he buried in a cache. One night, Arapooish
came into the lodge with a cloudy brow, and seated himself for a
time without saying a word. At length, turning to Campbell, "You
have more furs with you," said he, "than you have brought into my
lodge?"

"I have," replied Campbell.

"Where are they?"

Campbell knew the uselessness of any prevarication with an
Indian; and the importance of complete frankness. He described
the exact place where he had concealed his peltries.

" 'Tis well," replied Arapooish; "you speak straight. It is just
as you say. But your cache has been robbed. Go and see how many
skins have been taken from it."

Campbell examined the cache, and estimated his loss to be about
one hundred and fifty beaver skins.

Arapooish now summoned a meeting of the village. He bitterly
reproached his people for robbing a stranger who had confided to
their honor; and commanded that whoever had taken the skins,
should bring them back: declaring that, as Campbell was his guest
and inmate of his lodge, he would not eat nor drink until every
skin was restored to him.

The meeting broke up, and every one dispersed. Arapooish now
charged Campbell to give neither reward nor thanks to any one who
should bring in the beaver skins, but to keep count as they were
delivered.

In a little while, the skins began to make their appearance, a
few at a time; they were laid down in the lodge, and those who
brought them departed without saying a word. The day passed away.
Arapooish sat in one corner of his lodge, wrapped up in his robe,
scarcely moving a muscle of his countenance. When night arrived,
he demanded if all the skins had been brought in. Above a hundred
had been given up, and Campbell expressed himself contented. Not
so the Crow chieftain. He fasted all that night, nor tasted a
drop of water. In the morning, some more skins were brought in,
and continued to come, one and two at a time, throughout the day,
until but a few were wanting to make the number complete.
Campbell was now anxious to put an end to this fasting of the old
chief, and again declared that he was perfectly satisfied.
Arapooish demanded what number of skins were yet wanting. On
being told, he whispered to some of his people, who disappeared.
After a time the number were brought in, though it was evident
they were not any of the skins that had been stolen, but others
gleaned in the village.

"Is all right now?" demanded Arapooish.

"All is right," replied Campbell.

"Good! Now bring me meat and drink!"

When they were alone together, Arapooish had a conversation with
his guest.

"When you come another time among the Crows," said he, "don't
hide your goods: trust to them and they will not wrong you. Put
your goods in the lodge of a chief, and they are sacred; hide
them in a cache, and any one who finds will steal them. My people
have now given up your goods for my sake; but there are some
foolish young men in the village, who may be disposed to be
troublesome. Don't linger, therefore, but pack your horses and be
off."

Campbell took his advice, and made his way safely out of the Crow
country. He has ever since maintained that the Crows are not so
black as they are painted. "Trust to their honor," says he, "and
you are safe: trust to their honesty, and they will steal the
hair off your head."

Having given these few preliminary particulars, we will resume
the course of our narrative.

                              23.
                                
Departure from Green River valley Popo Agie Its course The rivers
     into which it runs Scenery of the Bluffs the great Tar
Spring Volcanic tracts in the Crow country Burning Mountain of
  Powder River Sulphur springs Hidden fires Colter's Hell Wind
  River Campbell's party Fitzpatrick and his trappers Captain
Stewart, an amateur traveller Nathaniel Wyeth Anecdotes of his
expedition to the Far West Disaster of Campbell's party A union
         of bands The Bad Pass The rapids Departure of
     Fitzpatrick Embarkation of peltries Wyeth and his bull
      boat Adventures of Captain Bonneville in the Bighorn
Mountains Adventures in the plain Traces of Indians Travelling
     precautions Dangers of making a smoke  The rendezvous

ON THE 25TH of July, Captain Bonneville struck his tents, and set
out on his route for the Bighorn, at the head of a party of
fifty-six men, including those who were to embark with Cerre.
Crossing the Green River valley, he proceeded along the south
point of the Wind River range of mountains, and soon fell upon
the track of Mr. Robert Campbell's party, which had preceded him
by a day. This he pursued, until he perceived that it led down
the banks of the Sweet Water to the southeast. As this was
different from his proposed direction, he left it; and turning to
the northeast, soon came upon the waters of the Popo Agie. This
stream takes its rise in the Wind River Mountains. Its name, like
most Indian names, is characteristic. Popo, in the Crow
language, signifies head; and Agie, river. It is the head of a
long river, extending from the south end of the Wind River
Mountains in a northeast direction, until it falls into the
Yellowstone. Its course is generally through plains, but is twice
crossed by chains of mountains; the first called the Littlehorn;
the second, the Bighorn. After it has forced its way through the
first chain, it is called the Horn River; after the second chain,
it is called the Bighorn River. Its passage through this last
chain is rough and violent; making repeated falls, and rushing
down long and furious rapids, which threaten destruction to the
navigator; though a hardy trapper is said to have shot down them
in a canoe. At the foot of these rapids, is the head of
navigation; where it was the intention of the parties to
construct boats, and embark.

Proceeding down along the Popo Agie, Captain Bonneville came
again in full view of the "Bluffs," as they are called, extending
from the base of the Wind River Mountains far away to the east,
and presenting to the eye a confusion of hills and cliffs of red
sandstone, some peaked and angular, some round, some broken into
crags and precipices, and piled up in fantastic masses; but all
naked and sterile. There appeared to be no soil favorable to
vegetation, nothing but coarse gravel; yet, over all this
isolated, barren landscape, were diffused such atmospherical
tints and hues, as to blend the whole into harmony and beauty.

In this neighborhood, the captain made search for "the great Tar
Spring," one of the wonders of the mountains; the medicinal
properties of which, he had heard extravagantly lauded by the
trappers. After a toilsome search, he found it at the foot of a
sand-bluff, a little east of the Wind River Mountains; where it
exuded in a small stream of the color and consistency of tar. The
men immediately hastened to collect a quantity of it, to use as
an ointment for the galled backs of their horses, and as a balsam
for their own pains and aches. From the description given of it,
it is evidently the bituminous oil, called petrolium or naphtha,
which forms a principal ingredient in the potent medicine called
British Oil. It is found in various parts of Europe and Asia, in
several of the West India islands, and in some places of the
United States. In the state of New York, it is called Seneca Oil,
from being found near the Seneca lake.

The Crow country has other natural curiosities, which are held in
superstitious awe by the Indians, and considered great marvels by
the trappers. Such is the Burning Mountain, on Powder River,
abounding with anthracite coal. Here the earth is hot and
cracked; in many places emitting smoke and sulphurous vapors, as
if covering concealed fires. A volcanic tract of similar
character is found on Stinking River, one of the tributaries of
the Bighorn, which takes its unhappy name from the odor derived
from sulphurous springs and streams. This last mentioned place
was first discovered by Colter, a hunter belonging to Lewis and
Clarke's exploring party, who came upon it in the course of his
lonely wanderings, and gave such an account of its gloomy
terrors, its hidden fires, smoking pits, noxious streams, and the
all-pervading "smell of brimstone," that it received, and has
ever since retained among trappers, the name of "Colter's Hell!"  

Resuming his descent along the left bank of the Popo Agie,
Captain Bonneville soon reached the plains; where he found
several large streams entering from the west. Among these was
Wind River, which gives its name to the mountains among which it
takes its rise. This is one of the most important streams of the
Crow country. The river being much swollen, Captain Bonneville
halted at its mouth, and sent out scouts to look for a fording
place. While thus encamped, he beheld in the course of the
afternoon a long line of horsemen descending the slope of the
hills on the opposite side of the Popo Agie. His first idea was
that they were Indians; he soon discovered, however, that they
were white men, and, by the long line of pack-horses, ascertained
them to be the convoy of Campbell, which, having descended the
Sweet Water, was now on its way to the Horn River.

The two parties came together two or three days afterwards, on
the 4th of August, after having passed through the gap of the
Littlehorn Mountain. In company with Campbell's convoy was a
trapping party of the Rocky Mountain Company, headed by
Fitzpatrick; who, after Campbell's embarkation on the Bighorn,
was to take charge of all the horses, and proceed on a trapping
campaign. There were, moreover, two chance companions in the
rival camp. One was Captain Stewart, of the British army, a
gentleman of noble connections, who was amusing himself by a
wandering tour in the Far West; in the course of which, he had
lived in hunter's style; accompanying various bands of traders,
trappers, and Indians; and manifesting that relish for the
wilderness that belongs to men of game spirit.

The other casual inmate of Mr. Campbell's camp was Mr. Nathaniel
Wyeth; the self-same leader of the band of New England salmon
fishers, with whom we parted company in the valley of Pierre's
Hole, after the battle with the Blackfeet. A few days after that
affair, he again set out from the rendezvous in company with
Milton Sublette and his brigade of trappers. On his march, he
visited the battle ground, and penetrated to the deserted fort of
the Blackfeet in the midst of the wood. It was a dismal scene.
The fort was strewed with the mouldering bodies of the slain;
while vultures soared aloft, or sat brooding on the trees around;
and Indian dogs howled about the place, as if bewailing the death
of their masters. Wyeth travelled for a considerable distance to
the southwest, in company with Milton Sublette, when they
separated; and the former, with eleven men, the remnant of his
band, pushed on for Snake River; kept down the course of that
eventful stream; traversed the Blue Mountains, trapping beaver
occasionally by the way, and finally, after hardships of all
kinds, arrived, on the 29th of October, at Vancouver, on the
Columbia, the main factory of the Hudson's Bay Company.

He experienced hospitable treatment at the hands of the agents of
that company; but his men, heartily tired of wandering in the
wilderness, or tempted by other prospects, refused, for the most
part, to continue any longer in his service. Some set off for the
Sandwich Islands; some entered into other employ. Wyeth found,
too, that a great part of the goods he had brought with him were
unfitted for the Indian trade; in a word, his expedition,
undertaken entirely on his own resources, proved a failure. He
lost everything invested in it, but his hopes. These were as
strong as ever. He took note of every thing, therefore, that
could be of service to him in the further prosecution of his
project; collected all the information within his reach, and then
set off, accompanied by merely two men, on his return journey
across the continent. He had got thus far "by hook and by crook,"
a mode in which a New England man can make his way all over the
world, and through all kinds of difficulties, and was now bound
for Boston; in full confidence of being able to form a company
for the salmon fishery and fur trade of the Columbia.

The party of Mr. Campbell had met with a disaster in the course
of their route from the Sweet Water. Three or four of the men,
who were reconnoitering the country in advance of the main body,
were visited one night in their camp, by fifteen or twenty
Shoshonies. Considering this tribe as perfectly friendly, they
received them in the most cordial and confiding manner. In the
course of the night, the man on guard near the horses fell sound
asleep; upon which a Shoshonie shot him in the head, and nearly
killed him. The savages then made off with the horses, leaving
the rest of the party to find their way to the main body on foot.

The rival companies of Captain Bonneville and Mr. Campbell, thus
fortuitously brought together, now prosecuted their journey in
great good fellowship; forming a joint camp of about a hundred
men. The captain, however, began to entertain doubts that
Fitzpatrick and his trappers, who kept profound silence as to
their future movements, intended to hunt the same grounds which
he had selected for his autumnal campaign; which lay to the west
of the Horn River, on its tributary streams. In the course of his
march, therefore, he secretly detached a small party of trappers,
to make their way to those hunting grounds, while he continued on
with the main body; appointing a rendezvous, at the next full
moon, about the 28th of August, at a place called the Medicine
Lodge.

On reaching the second chain, called the Bighorn Mountains, where
the river forced its impetuous way through a precipitous defile,
with cascades and rapids, the travellers were obliged to leave
its banks, and traverse the mountains by a rugged and frightful
route, emphatically called the "Bad Pass." Descending the
opposite side, they again made for the river banks; and about the
middle of August, reached the point below the rapids where the
river becomes navigable for boats. Here Captain Bonneville
detached a second party of trappers, consisting of ten men, to
seek and join those whom he had detached while on the route;
appointing for them the same rendezvous, (at the Medicine Lodge,)
on the 28th of August.

All hands now set to work to construct "bull boats," as they are
technically called; a light, fragile kind of bark, characteristic
of the expedients and inventions of the wilderness; being formed
of buffalo skins, stretched on frames. They are sometimes, also,
called skin boats. Wyeth was the first ready; and, with his usual
promptness and hardihood, launched his frail bark, singly, on
this wild and hazardous voyage, down an almost interminable
succession of rivers, winding through countries teeming with
savage hordes. Milton Sublette, his former fellow traveller, and
his companion in the battle scenes of Pierre's Hole, took passage
in his boat. His crew consisted of two white men, and two
Indians. We shall hear further of Wyeth, and his wild voyage, in
the course of our wanderings about the Far West.

The remaining parties soon completed their several armaments.
That of Captain Bonneville was composed of three bull boats, in
which he embarked all his peltries, giving them in charge of Mr.
Cerre, with a party of thirty-six men. Mr. Campbell took command
of his own boats, and the little squadrons were soon gliding down
the bright current of the Bighorn.

The secret precautions which Captain Bonneville had taken to
throw his men first into the trapping ground west of the Bighorn,
were, probably, superfluous. It did not appear that Fitzpatrick
had intended to hunt in that direction. The moment Mr. Campbell
and his men embarked with the peltries, Fitzpatrick took charge
of all the horses, amounting to above a hundred, and struck off
to the east, to trap upon Littlehorn, Powder, and Tongue rivers.
He was accompanied by Captain Stewart, who was desirous of having
a range about the Crow country. Of the adventures they met with
in that region of vagabonds and horse stealers, we shall have
something to relate hereafter.

Captain Bonneville being now left to prosecute his trapping
campaign without rivalry, set out, on the 17th of August, for the
rendezvous at Medicine Lodge. He had but four men remaining with
him, and forty-six horses to take care of; with these he had to
make his way over mountain and plain, through a marauding,
horse-stealing region, full of peril for a numerous cavalcade so
slightly manned. He addressed himself to his difficult journey,
however, with his usual alacrity of spirit.

In the afternoon of his first day's journey, on drawing near to
the Bighorn Mountain, on the summit of which he intended to
encamp for the night, he observed, to his disquiet, a cloud of
smoke rising from its base. He came to a halt, and watched it
anxiously. It was very irregular; sometimes it would almost die
away; and then would mount up in heavy volumes. There was,
apparently, a large party encamped there; probably, some ruffian
horde of Blackfeet. At any rate, it would not do for so small a
number of men, with so numerous a cavalcade, to venture within
sight of any wandering tribe. Captain Bonneville and his
companions, therefore, avoided this dangerous neighborhood; and,
proceeding with extreme caution, reached the summit of the
mountain, apparently without being discovered. Here they found a
deserted Blackfoot fort, in which they ensconced themselves;
disposed of every thing as securely as possible, and passed the
night without molestation. Early the next morning they descended
the south side of the mountain into the great plain extending
between it and the Littlehorn range. Here they soon came upon
numerous footprints, and the carcasses of buffaloes; by which
they knew there must be Indians not far off. Captain Bonneville
now began to feel solicitude about the two small parties of
trappers which he had detached, lest the Indians should have come
upon them before they had united their forces. But he felt still
more solicitude about his own party; for it was hardly to be
expected he could traverse these naked plains undiscovered, when
Indians were abroad; and should he be discovered, his chance
would be a desperate one. Everything now depended upon the
greatest circumspection. It was dangerous to discharge a gun, or
light a fire, or make the least noise, where such quick-eared and
quick-sighted enemies were at hand. In the course of the day they
saw indubitable signs that the buffalo had been roaming there in
great numbers, and had recently been frightened away. That night
they encamped with the greatest care; and threw up a strong
breastwork for their protection.

For the two succeeding days they pressed forward rapidly, but
cautiously, across the great plain; fording the tributary streams
of the Horn River; encamping one night among thickets; the next,
on an island; meeting, repeatedly, with traces of Indians; and
now and then, in passing through a defile, experiencing alarms
that induced them to cock their rifles.

On the last day of their march hunger got the better of their
caution, and they shot a fine buffalo bull at the risk of being
betrayed by the report. They did not halt to make a meal, but
carried the meat on with them to the place of rendezvous, the
Medicine Lodge, where they arrived safely, in the evening, and
celebrated their arrival by a hearty supper.

The next morning they erected a strong pen for the horses, and a
fortress of logs for themselves; and continued to observe the
greatest caution. Their cooking was all done at mid-day, when the
fire makes no glare, and a moderate smoke cannot be perceived at
any great distance. In the morning and the evening, when the wind
is lulled, the smoke rises perpendicularly in a blue column, or
floats in light clouds above the tree-tops, and can be discovered
from afar.

In this way the little party remained for several days,
cautiously encamped, until, on the 29th of August, the two
detachments they had been expecting, arrived together at the
rendezvous. They, as usual, had their several tales of adventures
to relate to the captain, which we will furnish to the reader in
the next chapter.

                              24.
   Adventures of the party of ten The Balaamite mule  A dead
point The mysterious elks A night attack  A retreat Travelling
under an alarm A joyful meeting Adventures of the other party A
decoy elk Retreat to an island A savage dance of triumph Arrival
                         at Wind River

THE ADVENTURES of the detachment of ten are the first in order.
These trappers, when they separated from Captain Bonneville at
the place where the furs were embarked, proceeded to the foot of
the Bighorn Mountain, and having encamped, one of them mounted
his mule and went out to set his trap in a neighboring stream. He
had not proceeded far when his steed came to a full stop. The
trapper kicked and cudgelled, but to every blow and kick the mule
snorted and kicked up, but still refused to budge an inch. The
rider now cast his eyes warily around in search of some cause for
this demur, when, to his dismay, he discovered an Indian fort
within gunshot distance, lowering through the twilight. In a
twinkling he wheeled about; his mule now seemed as eager to get
on as himself, and in a few moments brought him, clattering with
his traps, among his comrades. He was jeered at for his alacrity
in retreating; his report was treated as a false alarm; his
brother trappers contented themselves with reconnoitring the fort
at a distance, and pronounced that it was deserted.

As night set in, the usual precaution, enjoined by Captain
Bonneville on his men, was observed. The horses were brought in
and tied, and a guard stationed over them. This done, the men
wrapped themselves in their blankets, stretched themselves before
the fire, and being fatigued with a long day's march, and gorged
with a hearty supper, were soon in a profound sleep.

The camp fires gradually died away; all was dark and silent; the
sentinel stationed to watch the horses had marched as far, and
supped as heartily as any of his companions, and while they
snored, he began to nod at his post. After a time, a low
trampling noise reached his ear. He half opened his closing eyes,
and beheld two or three elks moving about the lodges, picking,
and smelling, and grazing here and there. The sight of elk within
the purlieus of the camp caused some little surprise; but having
had his supper, he cared not for elk meat, and, suffering them to
graze about unmolested, soon relapsed into a doze.

Suddenly, before daybreak, a discharge of firearms, and a
struggle and tramp of horses, made every one start to his feet.
The first move was to secure the horses. Some were gone; others
were struggling, and kicking, and trembling, for there was a
horrible uproar of whoops, and yells, and firearms. Several
trappers stole quietly from the camp, and succeeded in driving in
the horses which had broken away; the rest were tethered still
more strongly. A breastwork was thrown up of saddles, baggage,
and camp furniture, and all hands waited anxiously for daylight.
The Indians, in the meantime, collected on a neighboring height,
kept up the most horrible clamor, in hopes of striking a panic
into the camp, or frightening off the horses. When the day
dawned, the trappers attacked them briskly and drove them to some
distance. A desultory fire was kept up for an hour, when the
Indians, seeing nothing was to be gained, gave up the contest and
retired. They proved to be a war party of Blackfeet, who, while
in search of the Crow tribe, had fallen upon the trail of Captain
Bonneville on the Popo Agie, and dogged him to the Bighorn; but
had been completely baffled by his vigilance. They had then
waylaid the present detachment, and were actually housed in
perfect silence within their fort, when the mule of the trapper
made such a dead point.

The savages went off uttering the wildest denunciations of
hostility, mingled with opprobrious terms in broken English, and
gesticulations of the most insulting kind.

In this melee, one white man was wounded, and two horses were
killed. On preparing the morning's meal, however, a number of
cups, knives, and other articles were missing, which had,
doubtless, been carried off by the fictitious elk, during the
slumber of the very sagacious sentinel.
As the Indians had gone off in the direction which the trappers
had intended to travel, the latter changed their route, and
pushed forward rapidly through the "Bad Pass," nor halted until
night; when, supposing themselves out of the reach of the enemy,
they contented themselves with tying up their horses and posting
a guard. They had scarce laid down to sleep, when a dog strayed
into the camp with a small pack of moccasons tied upon his back;
for dogs are made to carry burdens among the Indians. The
sentinel, more knowing than he of the preceding night, awoke his
companions and reported the circumstance. It was evident that
Indians were at hand. All were instantly at work; a strong pen
was soon constructed for the horses, after completing which, they
resumed their slumbers with the composure of men long inured to
dangers.

In the next night, the prowling of dogs about the camp, and
various suspicious noises, showed that Indians were still
hovering about them. Hurrying on by long marches, they at length
fell upon a trail, which, with the experienced eye of veteran
woodmen, they soon discovered to be that of the party of trappers
detached by Captain Bonneville when on his march, and which they
were sent to join. They likewise ascertained from various signs,
that this party had suffered some maltreatment from the Indians.
They now pursued the trail with intense anxiety; it carried them
to the banks of the stream called the Gray Bull, and down along
its course, until they came to where it empties into the Horn
River. Here, to their great joy, they discovered the comrades of
whom they were in search, all strongly fortified, and in a state
of great watchfulness and anxiety.

We now take up the adventures of this first detachment of
trappers. These men, after parting with the main body under
Captain Bonneville, had proceeded slowly for several days up the
course of the river, trapping beaver as they went. One morning,
as they were about to visit their traps, one of the camp-keepers
pointed to a fine elk, grazing at a distance, and requested them
to shoot it. Three of the trappers started off for the purpose.
In passing a thicket, they were fired upon by some savages in
ambush, and at the same time, the pretended elk, throwing off his
hide and his horn, started forth an Indian warrior.

One of the three trappers had been brought down by the volley;
the others fled to the camp, and all hands, seizing up whatever
they could carry off, retreated to a small island in the river,
and took refuge among the willows. Here they were soon joined by
their comrade who had fallen, but who had merely been wounded in
the neck.

In the meantime the Indians took possession of the deserted camp,
with all the traps, accoutrements, and horses. While they were
busy among the spoils, a solitary trapper, who had been absent at
his work, came sauntering to the camp with his traps on his back.
He had approached near by, when an Indian came forward and
motioned him to keep away; at the same moment, he was perceived
by his comrades on the island, and warned of his danger with loud
cries. The poor fellow stood for a moment, bewildered and aghast,
then dropping his traps, wheeled and made off at full speed,
quickened by a sportive volley which the Indians rattled after
him.

In high good humor with their easy triumph, the savages now
formed a circle round the fire and performed a war dance, with
the unlucky trappers for rueful spectators. This done, emboldened
by what they considered cowardice on the part of the white men,
they neglected their usual mode of bush-fighting, and advanced
openly within twenty paces of the willows. A sharp volley from
the trappers brought them to a sudden halt, and laid three of
them breathless. The chief, who had stationed himself on an
eminence to direct all the movements of his people, seeing three
of his warriors laid low, ordered the rest to retire. They
immediately did so, and the whole band soon disappeared behind a
point of woods, carrying off with them the horses, traps, and the
greater part of the baggage.

It was just after this misfortune that the party of ten men
discovered this forlorn band of trappers in a fortress, which
they had thrown up after their disaster. They were so perfectly
dismayed, that they could not be induced even to go in quest of
their traps, which they had set in a neighboring stream. The two
parties now joined their forces, and made their way, without
further misfortune, to the rendezvous.

Captain Bonneville perceived from the reports of these parties,
as well as from what he had observed himself in his recent march,
that he was in a neighborhood teeming with danger. Two wandering
Snake Indians, also, who visited the camp, assured him that there
were two large bands of Crows marching rapidly upon him. He broke
up his encampment, therefore, on the 1st of September, made his
way to the south, across the Littlehorn Mountain, until he
reached Wind River, and then turning westward, moved slowly up
the banks of that stream, giving time for his men to trap as he
proceeded. As it was not in the plan of the present hunting
campaigns to go near the caches on Green River, and as the
trappers were in want of traps to replace those they had lost,
Captain Bonneville undertook to visit the caches, and procure a
supply. To accompany him in this hazardous expedition, which
would take him through the defiles of the Wind River Mountains,
and up the Green River valley, he took but three men; the main
party were to continue on trapping up toward the head of Wind
River, near which he was to rejoin them, just about the place
where that stream issues from the mountains. We shall accompany
the captain on his adventurous errand.

                              25.
Captain Bonneville sets out for Green River valley  Journey up
the Popo Agie Buffaloes The staring white bears The smoke The
                         warm springs  
     Attempt to traverse the Wind River Mountains The Great
Slope Mountain dells and chasms Crystal lakes Ascent of a snowy
peak Sublime prospect  A panorama "Les dignes de pitie," or wild
                      men of the mountains

HAVING FORDED WIND RIVER a little above its mouth, Captain
Bonneville and his three companions proceeded across a gravelly
plain, until they fell upon the Popo Agie, up the left bank of
which they held their course, nearly in a southerly direction.
Here they came upon numerous droves of buffalo, and halted for
the purpose of procuring a supply of beef. As the hunters were
stealing cautiously to get within shot of the game, two small
white bears suddenly presented themselves in their path, and,
rising upon their hind legs, contemplated them for some time with
a whimsically solemn gaze. The hunters remained motionless;
whereupon the bears, having apparently satisfied their curiosity,
lowered themselves upon all fours, and began to withdraw. The
hunters now advanced, upon which the bears turned, rose again
upon their haunches, and repeated their serio-comic examination.
This was repeated several times, until the hunters, piqued at
their unmannerly staring, rebuked it with a discharge of their
rifles. The bears made an awkward bound or two, as if wounded,
and then walked off with great gravity, seeming to commune
together, and every now and then turning to take another look at
the hunters. It was well for the latter that the bears were but
half grown, and had not yet acquired the ferocity of their kind.

The buffalo were somewhat startled at the report of the firearms;
but the hunters succeeded in killing a couple of fine cows, and,
having secured the best of the meat, continued forward until some
time after dark, when, encamping in a large thicket of willows,
they made a great fire, roasted buffalo beef enough for half a
score, disposed of the whole of it with keen relish and high
glee, and then "turned in" for the night and slept soundly, like
weary and well fed hunters.

At daylight they were in the saddle again, and skirted along the
river, passing through fresh grassy meadows, and a succession of
beautiful groves of willows and cotton-wood. Toward evening,
Captain Bonneville observed a smoke at a distance rising from
among hills, directly in the route he was pursuing. Apprehensive
of some hostile band, he concealed the horses in a thicket, and,
accompanied by one of his men, crawled cautiously up a height,
from which he could overlook the scene of danger. Here, with a
spy-glass, he reconnoitred the surrounding country, but not a
lodge nor fire, not a man, horse, nor dog, was to be discovered;
in short, the smoke which had caused such alarm proved to be the
vapor from several warm, or rather hot springs of considerable
magnitude, pouring forth streams in every direction over a bottom
of white clay. One of the springs was about twenty-five yards in
diameter, and so deep that the water was of a bright green color.

They were now advancing diagonally upon the chain of Wind River
Mountains, which lay between them and Green River valley. To
coast round their southern points would be a wide circuit;
whereas, could they force their way through them, they might
proceed in a straight line. The mountains were lofty, with snowy
peaks and cragged sides; it was hoped, however, that some
practicable defile might be found. They attempted, accordingly,
to penetrate the mountains by following up one of the branches of
the Popo Agie, but soon found themselves in the midst of
stupendous crags and precipices that barred all progress.
Retracing their steps, and falling back upon the river, they
consulted where to make another attempt. They were too close
beneath the mountains to scan them generally, but they now
recollected having noticed, from the plain, a beautiful slope
rising, at an angle of about thirty degrees, and apparently
without any break, until it reached the snowy region. Seeking
this gentle acclivity, they began to ascend it with alacrity,
trusting to find at the top one of those elevated plains which
prevail among the Rocky Mountains. The slope was covered with
coarse gravel, interspersed with plates of freestone. They
attained the summit with some toil, but found, instead of a
level, or rather undulating plain, that they were on the brink of
a deep and precipitous ravine, from the bottom of which rose a
second slope, similar to the one they had just ascended. Down
into this profound ravine they made their way by a rugged path,
or rather fissure of the rocks, and then labored up the second
slope. They gained the summit only to find themselves on another
ravine, and now perceived that this vast mountain, which had
presented such a sloping and even side to the distant beholder on
the plain, was shagged by frightful precipices, and seamed with
longitudinal chasms, deep and dangerous.

In one of these wild dells they passed the night, and slept
soundly and sweetly after their fatigues. Two days more of
arduous climbing and scrambling only served to admit them into
the heart of this mountainous and awful solitude; where
difficulties increased as they proceeded. Sometimes they
scrambled from rock to rock, up the bed of some mountain stream,
dashing its bright way down to the plains; sometimes they availed
themselves of the paths made by the deer and the mountain sheep,
which, however, often took them to the brinks of fearful
precipices, or led to rugged defiles, impassable for their
horses. At one place, they were obliged to slide their horses
down the face of a rock, in which attempt some of the poor
animals lost their footing, rolled to the bottom, and came near
being dashed to pieces.

In the afternoon of the second day, the travellers attained one
of the elevated valleys locked up in this singular bed of
mountains. Here were two bright and beautiful little lakes, set
like mirrors in the midst of stern and rocky heights, and
surrounded by grassy meadows, inexpressibly refreshing to the
eye. These probably were among the sources of those mighty
streams which take their rise among these mountains, and wander
hundreds of miles through the plains.

In the green pastures bordering upon these lakes, the travellers
halted to repose, and to give their weary horses time to crop the
sweet and tender herbage. They had now ascended to a great height
above the level of the plains, yet they beheld huge crags of
granite piled one upon another, and beetling like battlements far
above them. While two of the men remained in the camp with the
horses, Captain Bonneville, accompanied by the other men [man],
set out to climb a neighboring height, hoping to gain a
commanding prospect, and discern some practicable route through
this stupendous labyrinth. After much toil, he reached the summit
of a lofty cliff, but it was only to behold gigantic peaks rising
all around, and towering far into the snowy regions of the
atmosphere. Selecting one which appeared to be the highest, he
crossed a narrow intervening valley, and began to scale it. He
soon found that he had undertaken a tremendous task; but the
pride of man is never more obstinate than when climbing
mountains. The ascent was so steep and rugged that he and his
companion were frequently obliged to clamber on hands and knees,
with their guns slung upon their backs. Frequently, exhausted
with fatigue, and dripping with perspiration, they threw
themselves upon the snow, and took handfuls of it to allay their
parching thirst. At one place, they even stripped off their coats
and hung them upon the bushes, and thus lightly clad, proceeded
to scramble over these eternal snows. As they ascended still
higher, there were cool breezes that refreshed and braced them,
and springing with new ardor to their task, they at length
attained the summit.

Here a scene burst upon the view of Captain Bonneville, that for
a time astonished and overwhelmed him with its immensity. He
stood, in fact, upon that dividing ridge which Indians regard as
the crest of the world; and on each side of which, the landscape
may be said to decline to the two cardinal oceans of the globe.
Whichever way he turned his eye, it was confounded by the
vastness and variety of objects. Beneath him, the Rocky Mountains
seemed to open all their secret recesses: deep, solemn valleys;
treasured lakes; dreary passes; rugged defiles, and foaming
torrents; while beyond their savage precincts, the eye was lost
in an almost immeasurable landscape; stretching on every side
into dim and hazy distance, like the expanse of a summer's sea.
Whichever way he looked, he beheld vast plains glimmering with
reflected sunshine; mighty streams wandering on their shining
course toward either ocean, and snowy mountains, chain beyond
chain, and peak beyond peak, till they melted like clouds into
the horizon. For a time, the Indian fable seemed realized: he had
attained that height from which the Blackfoot warrior, after
death, first catches a view of the land of souls, and beholds the
happy hunting grounds spread out below him, brightening with the
abodes of the free and generous spirits. The captain stood for a
long while gazing upon this scene, lost in a crowd of vague and
indefinite ideas and sensations. A long-drawn inspiration at
length relieved him from this enthralment of the mind, and he
began to analyze the parts of this vast panorama. A simple
enumeration of a few of its features may give some idea of its
collective grandeur and magnificence.

The peak on which the captain had taken his stand commanded the
whole Wind River chain; which, in fact, may rather be considered
one immense mountain, broken into snowy peaks and lateral spurs,
and seamed with narrow valleys. Some of these valleys glittered
with silver lakes and gushing streams; the fountain heads, as it
were, of the mighty tributaries to the Atlantic and Pacific
Oceans. Beyond the snowy peaks, to the south, and far, far below
the mountain range, the gentle river, called the Sweet Water, was
seen pursuing its tranquil way through the rugged regions of the
Black Hills. In the east, the head waters of Wind River wandered
through a plain, until, mingling in one powerful current, they
forced their way through the range of Horn Mountains, and were
lost to view. To the north were caught glimpses of the upper
streams of the Yellowstone, that great tributary of the Missouri.
In another direction were to be seen some of the sources of the
Oregon, or Columbia, flowing to the northwest, past those
towering landmarks the Three Tetons, and pouring down into the
great lava plain; while, almost at the captain's feet, the Green
River, or Colorado of the West, set forth on its wandering
pilgrimage to the Gulf of California; at first a mere mountain
torrent, dashing northward over a crag and precipice, in a
succession of cascades, and tumbling into the plain where,
expanding into an ample river, it circled away to the south, and
after alternately shining out and disappearing in the mazes of
the vast landscape, was finally lost in a horizon of mountains.
The day was calm and cloudless, and the atmosphere so pure that
objects were discernible at an astonishing distance. The whole of
this immense area was inclosed by an outer range of shadowy
peaks, some of them faintly marked on the horizon, which seemed
to wall it in from the rest of the earth.

It is to be regretted that Captain Bonneville had no instruments
with him with which to ascertain the altitude of this peak. He
gives it as his opinion that it is the loftiest point of the
North American continent; but of this we have no satisfactory
proof. It is certain that the Rocky Mountains are of an altitude
vastly superior to what was formerly supposed. We rather incline
to the opinion that the highest peak is further to the northward,
and is the same measured by Mr. Thompson, surveyor to the
Northwest Company; who, by the joint means of the barometer and
trigonometric measurement, ascertained it to be twenty-five
thousand feet above the level of the sea; an elevation only
inferior to that of the Himalayas.

For a long time, Captain Bonneville remained gazing around him
with wonder and enthusiasm; at length the chill and wintry winds,
whirling about the snow-clad height, admonished him to descend.
He soon regained the spot where he and his companions [companion]
had thrown off their coats, which were now gladly resumed, and,
retracing their course down the peak, they safely rejoined their
companions on the border of the lake.

Notwithstanding the savage and almost inaccessible nature of
these mountains, they have their inhabitants. As one of the party
was out hunting, he came upon the solitary track of a man in a
lonely valley. Following it up, he reached the brow of a cliff,
whence he beheld three savages running across the valley below
him. He fired his gun to call their attention, hoping to induce
them to turn back. They only fled the faster, and disappeared
among the rocks. The hunter returned and reported what he had
seen. Captain Bonneville at once concluded that these belonged to
a kind of hermit race, scanty in number, that inhabit the highest
and most inaccessible fastnesses. They speak the Shoshonie
language, and probably are offsets from that tribe, though they
have peculiarities of their own, which distinguish them from all
other Indians. They are miserably poor; own no horses, and are
destitute of every convenience to be derived from an intercourse
with the whites. Their weapons are bows and stone-pointed arrows,
with which they hunt the deer, the elk, and the mountain sheep.
They are to be found scattered about the countries of the
Shoshonie, Flathead, Crow, and Blackfeet tribes; but their
residences are always in lonely places, and the clefts of the
rocks.

Their footsteps are often seen by the trappers in the high and
solitary valleys among the mountains, and the smokes of their
fires descried among the precipices, but they themselves are
rarely met with, and still more rarely brought to a parley, so
great is their shyness, and their dread of strangers.

As their poverty offers no temptation to the marauder, and as
they are inoffensive in their habits, they are never the objects
of warfare: should one of them, however, fall into the hands of a
war party, he is sure to be made a sacrifice, for the sake of
that savage trophy, a scalp, and that barbarous ceremony, a scalp
dance. These forlorn beings, forming a mere link between human
nature and the brute, have been looked down upon with pity and
contempt by the creole trappers, who have given them the
appellation of "les dignes de pitie," or "the objects of pity.";
They appear more worthy to be called the wild men of the
mountains.

                              26.
                                
     A retrogade move Channel of a mountain torrent  Alpine
     scenery Cascades Beaver valleys Beavers at work Their
   architecture Their modes of felling trees Mode of trapping
beaver Contests of skill  A beaver "up to trap" Arrival at the
                       Green River caches

THE VIEW from the snowy peak of the Wind River Mountains, while
it had excited Captain Bonneville's enthusiasm, had satisfied him
that it would be useless to force a passage westward, through
multiplying barriers of cliffs and precipices. Turning his face
eastward, therefore, he endeavored to regain the plains,
intending to make the circuit round the southern point of the
mountain. To descend, and to extricate himself from the heart of
this rock-piled wilderness, was almost as difficult as to
penetrate it. Taking his course down the ravine of a tumbling
stream, the commencement of some future river, he descended from
rock to rock, and shelf to shelf, between stupendous cliffs and
beetling crags that sprang up to the sky. Often he had to cross
and recross the rushing torrent, as it wound foaming and roaring
down its broken channel, or was walled by perpendicular
precipices; and imminent was the hazard of breaking the legs of
the horses in the clefts and fissures of slippery rocks. The
whole scenery of this deep ravine was of Alpine wildness and
sublimity. Sometimes the travellers passed beneath cascades which
pitched from such lofty heights that the water fell into the
stream like heavy rain. In other places, torrents came tumbling
from crag to crag, dashing into foam and spray, and making
tremendous din and uproar.

On the second day of their descent, the travellers, having got
beyond the steepest pitch of the mountains, came to where the
deep and rugged ravine began occasionally to expand into small
levels or valleys, and the stream to assume for short intervals a
more peaceful character. Here, not merely the river itself, but
every rivulet flowing into it, was dammed up by communities of
industrious beavers, so as to inundate the neighborhood, and make
continual swamps.

During a mid-day halt in one of these beaver valleys, Captain
Bonneville left his companions, and strolled down the course of
the stream to reconnoitre. He had not proceeded far when he came
to a beaver pond, and caught a glimpse of one of its painstaking
inhabitants busily at work upon the dam. The curiosity of the
captain was aroused, to behold the mode of operating of this
far-famed architect; he moved forward, therefore, with the utmost
caution, parting the branches of the water willows without making
any noise, until having attained a position commanding a view of
the whole pond, he stretched himself flat on the ground, and
watched the solitary workman. In a little while, three others
appeared at the head of the dam, bringing sticks and bushes. With
these they proceeded directly to the barrier, which Captain
Bonneville perceived was in need of repair. Having deposited
their loads upon the broken part, they dived into the water, and
shortly reappeared at the surface. Each now brought a quantity of
mud, with which he would plaster the sticks and bushes just
deposited. This kind of masonry was continued for some time,
repeated supplies of wood and mud being brought, and treated in
the same manner. This done, the industrious beavers indulged in a
little recreation, chasing each other about the pond, dodging and
whisking about on the surface, or diving to the bottom; and in
their frolic, often slapping their tails on the water with a loud
clacking sound. While they were thus amusing themselves, another
of the fraternity made his appearance, and looked gravely on
their sports for some time, without offering to join in them. He
then climbed the bank close to where the captain was concealed,
and, rearing himself on his hind quarters, in a sitting position,
put his forepaws against a young pine tree, and began to cut the
bark with his teeth. At times he would tear off a small piece,
and holding it between his paws, and retaining his sedentary
position, would feed himself with it, after the fashion of a
monkey. The object of the beaver, however, was evidently to cut
down the tree; and he was proceeding with his work, when he was
alarmed by the approach of Captain Bonneville's men, who, feeling
anxious at the protracted absence of their leader, were coming in
search of him. At the sound of their voices, all the beavers,
busy as well as idle, dived at once beneath the surface, and were
no more to be seen. Captain Bonneville regretted this
interruption. He had heard much of the sagacity of the beaver in
cutting down trees, in which, it is said, they manage to make
them fall into the water, and in such a position and direction as
may be most favorable for conveyance to the desired point. In the
present instance, the tree was a tall straight pine, and as it
grew perpendicularly, and there was not a breath of air stirring
the beaver could have felled it in any direction he pleased, if
really capable of exercising a discretion in the matter. He was
evidently engaged in "belting" the tree, and his first incision
had been on the side nearest to the water.

Captain Bonneville, however, discredits, on the whole, the
alleged sagacity of the beaver in this particular, and thinks the
animal has no other aim than to get the tree down, without any of
the subtle calculation as to its mode or direction of falling.
This attribute, he thinks, has been ascribed to them from the
circumstance that most trees growing near water-courses, either
lean bodily toward the stream, or stretch their largest limbs in
that direction, to benefit by the space, the light, and the air
to be found there. The beaver, of course, attacks those trees
which are nearest at hand, and on the banks of the stream or
pond. He makes incisions round them, or in technical phrase,
belts them with his teeth, and when they fall, they naturally
take the direction in which their trunks or branches
preponderate.

"I have often," says Captain Bonneville, "seen trees measuring
eighteen inches in diameter, at the places where they had been
cut through by the beaver, but they lay in all directions, and
often very inconveniently for the after purposes of the animal.
In fact, so little ingenuity do they at times display in this
particular, that at one of our camps on Snake River, a beaver was
found with his head wedged into the cut which he had made, the
tree having fallen upon him and held him prisoner until he died."

Great choice, according to the captain, is certainly displayed by
the beaver in selecting the wood which is to furnish bark for
winter provision. The whole beaver household, old and young, set
out upon this business, and will often make long journeys before
they are suited. Sometimes they cut down trees of the largest
size and then cull the branches, the bark of which is most to
their taste. These they cut into lengths of about three feet,
convey them to the water, and float them to their lodges, where
they are stored away for winter. They are studious of cleanliness
and comfort in their lodges, and after their repasts, will carry
out the sticks from which they have eaten the bark, and throw
them into the current beyond the barrier. They are jealous, too,
of their territories, and extremely pugnacious, never permitting
a strange beaver to enter their premises, and often fighting with
such virulence as almost to tear each other to pieces. In the
spring, which is the breeding season, the male leaves the female
at home, and sets off on a tour of pleasure, rambling often to a
great distance, recreating himself in every clear and quiet
expanse of water on his way, and climbing the banks occasionally
to feast upon the tender sprouts of the young willows. As summer
advances, he gives up his bachelor rambles, and bethinking
himself of housekeeping duties, returns home to his mate and his
new progeny, and marshals them all for the foraging expedition in
quest of winter provisions.

After having shown the public spirit of this praiseworthy little
animal as a member of a community, and his amiable and exemplary
conduct as the father of a family, we grieve to record the perils
with which he is environed, and the snares set for him and his
painstaking household.

Practice, says Captain Bonneville, has given such a quickness of
eye to the experienced trapper in all that relates to his
pursuit, that he can detect the slightest sign of beaver, however
wild; and although the lodge may be concealed by close thickets
and overhanging willows, he can generally, at a single glance,
make an accurate guess at the number of its inmates. He now goes
to work to set his trap; planting it upon the shore, in some
chosen place, two or three inches below the surface of the water,
and secures it by a chain to a pole set deep in the mud. A small
twig is then stripped of its bark, and one end is dipped in the
"medicine," as the trappers term the peculiar bait which they
employ. This end of the stick rises about four inches above the
surface of the water, the other end is planted between the jaws
of the trap. The beaver, possessing an acute sense of smell, is
soon attracted by the odor of the bait. As he raises his nose
toward it, his foot is caught in the trap. In his fright he
throws a somerset into the deep water. The trap, being fastened
to the pole, resists all his efforts to drag it to the shore; the
chain by which it is fastened defies his teeth; he struggles for
a time, and at length sinks to the bottom and is drowned.

Upon rocky bottoms, where it is not possible to plant the pole,
it is thrown into the stream. The beaver, when entrapped, often
gets fastened by the chain to sunken logs or floating timber; if
he gets to shore, he is entangled in the thickets of brook
willows. In such cases, however, it costs the trapper diligent
search, and sometimes a bout at swimming, before he finds his
game.

Occasionally it happens that several members of a beaver family
are trapped in succession. The survivors then become extremely
shy, and can scarcely be "brought to medicine," to use the
trapper's phrase for "taking the bait." In such case, the trapper
gives up the use of the bait, and conceals his traps in the usual
paths and crossing places of the household. The beaver now being
completely "up to trap," approaches them cautiously, and springs
them ingeniously with a stick. At other times, he turns the traps
bottom upwards, by the same means, and occasionally even drags
them to the barrier and conceals them in the mud. The trapper now
gives up the contest of ingenuity, and shouldering his traps,
marches off, admitting that he is not yet "up to beaver."

On the day following Captain Bonneville's supervision of the
industrious and frolicsome community of beavers, of which he has
given so edifying an account, he succeeded in extricating himself
from the Wind River Mountains, and regaining the plain to the
eastward, made a great bend to the south, so as to go round the
bases of the mountains, and arrived without further incident of
importance, at the old place of rendezvous in Green River valley,
on the 17th of September.

He found the caches, in which he had deposited his superfluous
goods and equipments, all safe, and having opened and taken from
them the necessary supplies, he closed them again; taking care to
obliterate all traces that might betray them to the keen eyes of
Indian marauders.

                              27.
                                
   Route toward Wind River Dangerous neighborhood  Alarms and
     precautions A sham encampment  Apparition of an Indian
       spy Midnight move A mountain defile The Wind River
valley Tracking a party Deserted camps Symptoms of Crows  Meeting
  of comrades A trapper entrapped Crow pleasantry Crow spies A
      decampment Return to Green River valley Meeting with
Fitzpatrick's party Their adventures among the Crows Orthodox
                             Crows

ON THE 18TH of September, Captain Bonneville and his three
companions set out, bright and early, to rejoin the main party,
from which they had parted on Wind River. Their route lay up the
Green River valley, with that stream on their right hand, and
beyond it, the range of Wind River Mountains. At the head of the
valley, they were to pass through a defile which would bring them
out beyond the northern end of these mountains, to the head of
Wind River; where they expected to meet the main party, according
to arrangement.

We have already adverted to the dangerous nature of this
neighborhood, infested by roving bands of Crows and Blackfeet; to
whom the numerous defiles and passes of the country afford
capital places for ambush and surprise. The travellers,
therefore, kept a vigilant eye upon everything that might give
intimation of lurking danger.

About two hours after mid-day, as they reached the summit of a
hill, they discovered buffalo on the plain below, running in
every direction. One of the men, too, fancied he heard the report
of a gun. It was concluded, therefore, that there was some party
of Indians below, hunting the buffalo.

The horses were immediately concealed in a narrow ravine; and the
captain, mounting an eminence, but concealing himself from view,
reconnoitred the whole neighborhood with a telescope. Not an
Indian was to be seen; so, after halting about an hour, he
resumed his journey. Convinced, however, that he was in a
dangerous neighborhood, he advanced with the utmost caution;
winding his way through hollows and ravines, and avoiding, as
much as possible, any open tract, or rising ground, that might
betray his little party to the watchful eye of an Indian scout.

Arriving, at length, at the edge of the open meadow-land
bordering on the river, he again observed the buffalo, as far as
he could see, scampering in great alarm. Once more concealing the
horses, he and his companions remained for a long time watching
the various groups of the animals, as each caught the panic and
started off; but they sought in vain to discover the cause.

They were now about to enter the mountain defile, at the head of
Green River valley, where they might be waylaid and attacked;
they, therefore, arranged the packs on their horses, in the
manner most secure and convenient for sudden flight, should such
be necessary. This done, they again set forward, keeping the most
anxious look-out in every direction.

It was now drawing toward evening; but they could not think of
encamping for the night, in a place so full of danger. Captain
Bonneville, therefore, determined to halt about sunset, kindle a
fire, as if for encampment, cook and eat supper; but, as soon as
it was sufficiently dark, to make a rapid move for the summit of
the mountain, and seek some secluded spot for their night's
lodgings.

Accordingly, as the sun went down, the little party came to a
halt, made a large fire, spitted their buffalo meat on wooden
sticks, and, when sufficiently roasted, planted the savory viands
before them; cutting off huge slices with their hunting knives,
and supping with a hunter's appetite. The light of their fire
would not fail, as they knew, to attract the attention of any
Indian horde in the neighborhood; but they trusted to be off and
away, before any prowlers could reach the place. While they were
supping thus hastily, however, one of their party suddenly
started up and shouted "Indians! " All were instantly on their
feet, with their rifles in their hands; but could see no enemy.
The man, however, declared that he had seen an Indian advancing,
cautiously, along the trail which they had made in coming to the
encampment; who, the moment he was perceived, had thrown himself
on the ground, and disappeared. He urged Captain Bonneville
instantly to decamp. The captain, however, took the matter more
coolly. The single fact, that the Indian had endeavored to hide
himself, convinced him that he was not one of a party, on the
advance to make an attack. He was, probably, some scout, who had
followed up their trail, until he came in sight of their fire. He
would, in such case, return, and report what he had seen to his
companions. These, supposing the white men had encamped for the
night, would keep aloof until very late, when all should be
asleep. They would, then, according to Indian tactics, make their
stealthy approaches, and place themselves in ambush around,
preparatory to their attack, at the usual hour of daylight.

Such was Captain Bonneville's conclusion; in consequence of
which, he counselled his men to keep perfectly quiet, and act as
if free from all alarm, until the proper time arrived for a move.
They, accordingly, continued their repast with pretended appetite
and jollity; and then trimmed and replenished their fire, as if
for a bivouac. As soon, however, as the night had completely set
in, they left their fire blazing; walked quietly among the
willows, and then leaping into their saddles, made off as
noiselessly as possible. In proportion as they left the point of
danger behind them, they relaxed in their rigid and anxious
taciturnity, and began to joke at the expense of their enemy;
whom they pictured to themselves mousing in the neighborhood of
their deserted fire, waiting for the proper time of attack, and
preparing for a grand disappointment.

About midnight, feeling satisfied that they had gained a secure
distance, they posted one of their number to keep watch, in case
the enemy should follow on their trail, and then, turning
abruptly into a dense and matted thicket of willows, halted for
the night at the foot of the mountain, instead of making for the
summit, as they had originally intended.

A trapper in the wilderness, like a sailor on the ocean, snatches
morsels of enjoyment in the midst of trouble, and sleeps soundly
when surrounded by danger. The little party now made their
arrangements for sleep with perfect calmness; they did not
venture to make a fire and cook, it is true, though generally
done by hunters whenever they come to a halt, and have
provisions. They comforted themselves, however, by smoking a
tranquil pipe; and then calling in the watch, and turning loose
the horses, stretched themselves on their pallets, agreed that
whoever should first awake, should rouse the rest, and in a
little while were all as sound asleep as though in the midst of a
fortress.

A little before day, they were all on the alert; it was the hour
for Indian maraud. A sentinel was immediately detached, to post
himself at a little distance on their trail, and give the alarm,
should he see or hear an enemy.

With the first blink of dawn, the rest sought the horses; brought
them to the camp, and tied them up, until an hour after sunrise;
when, the sentinel having reported that all was well, they sprang
once more into their saddles, and pursued the most covert and
secret paths up the mountain, avoiding the direct route.

At noon, they halted and made a hasty repast; and then bent their
course so as to regain the route from which they had diverged.
They were now made sensible of the danger from which they had
just escaped. There were tracks of Indians, who had evidently
been in pursuit of them; but had recently returned, baffled in
their search.

Trusting that they had now got a fair start, and could not be
overtaken before night, even in case the Indians should renew the
chase, they pushed briskly forward, and did not encamp until
late; when they cautiously concealed themselves in a secure nook
of the mountains.

Without any further alarm, they made their way to the head waters
of Wind River, and reached the neighborhood in which they had
appointed the rendezvous with their companions. It was within the
precincts of the Crow country; the Wind River valley being one of
the favorite haunts of that restless tribe. After much searching,
Captain Bonneville came upon a trail which had evidently been
made by his main party. It was so old, however, that he feared
his people might have left the neighborhood; driven off, perhaps
by some of those war parties which were on the prowl. He
continued his search with great anxiety, and no little fatigue;
for his horses were jaded, and almost crippled, by their forced
marches and scramblings through rocky defiles.

On the following day, about noon, Captain Bonneville came upon a
deserted camp of his people, from which they had, evidently,
turned back; but he could find no signs to indicate why they had
done so; whether they had met with misfortune, or molestation, or
in what direction they had gone. He was now, more than ever,
perplexed.

On the following day, he resumed his march with increasing
anxiety. The feet of his horses had by this time become so worn
and wounded by the rocks, that he had to make moccasons for them
of buffalo hide. About noon, he came to another deserted camp of
his men; but soon after lost their trail. After great search, he
once more found it, turning in a southerly direction along the
eastern bases of the Wind River Mountains, which towered to the
right. He now pushed forward with all possible speed, in hopes of
overtaking the party. At night, he slept at another of their
camps, from which they had but recently departed. When the day
dawned sufficiently to distinguish objects, he perceived the
danger that must be dogging the heels of his main party. All
about the camp were traces of Indians who must have been prowling
about it at the time his people had passed the night there; and
who must still be hovering about them. Convinced, now, that the
main party could not be at any great distance, he mounted a scout
on the best horse, and sent him forward to overtake them, to warn
them of their danger, and to order them to halt, until he should
rejoin them.

In the afternoon, to his great joy, he met the scout returning,
with six comrades from the main party, leading fresh horses for
his accommodation; and on the following day (September 25th), all
hands were once more reunited, after a separation of nearly three
weeks. Their meeting was hearty and joyous; for they had both
experienced dangers and perplexities.

The main party, in pursuing their course up the Wind River
valley, had been dogged the whole way by a war party of Crows. In
one place, they had been fired upon, but without injury; in
another place, one of their horses had been cut loose, and
carried off. At length, they were so closely beset, that they
were obliged to make a retrogade move, lest they should be
surprised and overcome. This was the movement which had caused
such perplexity to Captain Bonneville.

The whole party now remained encamped for two or three days, to
give repose to both men and horses. Some of the trappers,
however, pursued their vocations about the neighboring streams.
While one of them was setting his traps, he heard the tramp of
horses, and looking up, beheld a party of Crow braves moving
along at no great distance, with a considerable cavalcade. The
trapper hastened to conceal himself, but was discerned by the
quick eye of the savages. With whoops and yells, they dragged him
from his hiding-place, flourished over his head their tomahawks
and scalping-knives, and for a time, the poor trapper gave
himself up for lost. Fortunately, the Crows were in a jocose,
rather than a sanguinary mood. They amused themselves heartily,
for a while, at the expense of his terrors; and after having
played off divers Crow pranks and pleasantries, suffered him to
depart unharmed. It is true, they stripped him completely, one
taking his horse, another his gun, a third his traps, a fourth
his blanket, and so on, through all his accoutrements, and even
his clothing, until he was stark naked; but then they generously
made him a present of an old tattered buffalo robe, and dismissed
him, with many complimentary speeches, and much laughter. When
the trapper returned to the camp, in such sorry plight, he was
greeted with peals of laughter from his comrades and seemed more
mortified by the style in which he had been dismissed, than
rejoiced at escaping with his life. A circumstance which he
related to Captain Bonneville, gave some insight into the cause
of this extreme jocularity on the part of the Crows. They had
evidently had a run of luck, and, like winning gamblers, were in
high good humor. Among twenty-six fine horses, and some mules,
which composed their cavalcade, the trapper recognized a number
which had belonged to Fitzpatrick's brigade, when they parted
company on the Bighorn. It was supposed, therefore, that these
vagabonds had been on his trail, and robbed him of part of his
cavalry.

On the day following this affair, three Crows came into Captain
Bonneville's camp, with the most easy, innocent, if not impudent
air imaginable; walking about with the imperturbable coolness and
unconcern, in which the Indian rivals the fine gentleman. As they
had not been of the set which stripped the trapper, though
evidently of the same band, they were not molested. Indeed,
Captain Bonneville treated them with his usual kindness and
hospitality; permitting them to remain all day in the camp, and
even to pass the night there. At the same time, however, he
caused a strict watch to be maintained on all their movements;
and at night, stationed an armed sentinel near them. The Crows
remonstrated against the latter being armed. This only made the
captain suspect them to be spies, who meditated treachery; he
redoubled, therefore, his precautions. At the same time, he
assured his guests, that while they were perfectly welcome to the
shelter and comfort of his camp, yet, should any of their tribe
venture to approach during the night, they would certainly be
shot; which would be a very unfortunate circumstance, and much to
be deplored. To the latter remark, they fully assented; and
shortly afterward commenced a wild song, or chant, which they
kept up for a long time, and in which they very probably gave
their friends, who might be prowling round the camp, notice that
the white men were on the alert. The night passed away without
disturbance. In the morning, the three Crow guests were very
pressing that Captain Bonneville and his party should accompany
them to their camp, which they said was close by. Instead of
accepting their invitation, Captain Bonneville took his departure
with all possible dispatch, eager to be out of the vicinity of
such a piratical horde; nor did he relax the diligence of his
march, until, on the second day, he reached the banks of the
Sweet Water, beyond the limits of the Crow country, and a heavy
fall of snow had obliterated all traces of his course.

He now continued on for some few days, at a slower pace, round
the point of the mountain toward Green River, and arrived once
more at the caches, on the 14th of October.

Here they found traces of the band of Indians who had hunted them
in the defile toward the head waters of Wind River. Having lost
all trace of them on their way over the mountains, they had
turned and followed back their trail down the Green River valley
to the caches. One of these they had discovered and broken open,
but it fortunately contained nothing but fragments of old iron,
which they had scattered about in all directions, and then
departed. In examining their deserted camp, Captain Bonneville
discovered that it numbered thirty-nine fires, and had more
reason than ever to congratulate himself on having escaped the
clutches of such a formidable band of freebooters.

He now turned his course southward, under cover of the mountains,
and on the 25th of October reached Liberge's Ford, a tributary of
the Colorado, where he came suddenly upon the trail of this same
war party, which had crossed the stream so recently that the
banks were yet wet with the water that had been splashed upon
them. To judge from their tracks, they could not be less than
three hundred warriors, and apparently of the Crow nation.

Captain Bonneville was extremely uneasy lest this overpowering
force should come upon him in some place where he would not have
the means of fortifying himself promptly. He now moved toward
Hane's Fork, another tributary of the Colorado, where he
encamped, and remained during the 26th of October. Seeing a large
cloud of smoke to the south, he supposed it to arise from some
encampment of Shoshonies, and sent scouts to procure information,
and to purchase a lodge. It was, in fact, a band of Shoshonies,
but with them were encamped Fitzpatrick and his party of
trappers. That active leader had an eventful story to relate of
his fortunes in the country of the Crows. After parting with
Captain Bonneville on the banks of the Bighorn, he made for the
west, to trap upon Powder and Tongue Rivers. He had between
twenty and thirty men with him, and about one hundred horses. So
large a cavalcade could not pass through the Crow country without
attracting the attention of its freebooting hordes. A large band
of Crows was soon on their traces, and came up with them on the
5th of September, just as they had reached Tongue River. The Crow
chief came forward with great appearance of friendship, and
proposed to Fitzpatrick that they should encamp together. The
latter, however, not having any faith in Crows, declined the
invitation, and pitched his camp three miles off. He then rode
over with two or three men, to visit the Crow chief, by whom he
was received with great apparent cordiality. In the meantime,
however, a party of young braves, who considered them absolved by
his distrust from all scruples of honor, made a circuit
privately, and dashed into his encampment. Captain Stewart, who
had remained there in the absence of Fitzpatrick, behaved with
great spirit; but the Crows were too numerous and active. They
had got possession of the camp, and soon made booty of every
thing --carrying off all the horses. On their way back they met
Fitzpatrick returning to his camp; and finished their exploit by
rifling and nearly stripping him.

A negotiation now took place between the plundered white men and
the triumphant Crows; what eloquence and management Fitzpatrick
made use of, we do not know, but he succeeded in prevailing upon
the Crow chieftain to return him his horses and many of his
traps; together with his rifles and a few rounds of ammunition
for each man. He then set out with all speed to abandon the Crow
country, before he should meet with any fresh disasters.

After his departure, the consciences of some of the most orthodox
Crows pricked them sorely for having suffered such a cavalcade to
escape out of their hands. Anxious to wipe off so foul a stigma
on the reputation of the Crow nation, they followed on his trial,
nor quit hovering about him on his march until they had stolen a
number of his best horses and mules. It was, doubtless, this same
band which came upon the lonely trapper on the Popo Agie, and
generously gave him an old buffalo robe in exchange for his
rifle, his traps, and all his accoutrements. With these
anecdotes, we shall, for  present, take our leave of the Crow
country and its vagabond chivalry.

                              28.
  A region of natural curiosities The plain of white clay Hot
springs The Beer Spring Departure to seek the free trappers Plain
of Portneuf Lava  Chasms and gullies Bannack Indians Their hunt
of the buffalo Hunter's feast Trencher heroes  Bullying of an
    absent foe The damp comrade The Indian spy Meeting with
    Hodgkiss His adventures Poordevil Indians Triumph of the
               Bannacks Blackfeet policy in war

CROSSING AN ELEVATED RIDGE, Captain Bonneville now came upon Bear
River, which, from its source to its entrance into the Great Salt
Lake, describes the figure of a horse-shoe. One of the principal
head waters of this river, although supposed to abound with
beaver, has never been visited by the trapper; rising among
rugged mountains, and being barricadoed [sic] by fallen pine
trees and tremendous precipices.

Proceeding down this river, the party encamped, on the 6th of
November, at the outlet of a lake about thirty miles long, and
from two to three miles in width, completely imbedded in low
ranges of mountains, and connected with Bear River by an
impassable swamp. It is called the Little Lake, to distinguish it
from the great one of salt water.

On the 10th of November, Captain Bonneville visited a place in
the neighborhood which is quite a region of natural curiosities.
An area of about half a mile square presents a level surface of
white clay or fuller's earth, perfectly spotless, resembling a
great slab of Parian marble, or a sheet of dazzling snow. The
effect is strikingly beautiful at all times: in summer, when it
is surrounded with verdure, or in autumn, when it contrasts its
bright immaculate surface with the withered herbage. Seen from a
distant eminence, it then shines like a mirror, set in the brown
landscape. Around this plain are clustered numerous springs of
various sizes and temperatures. One of them, of scalding heat,
boils furiously and incessantly, rising to the height of two or
three feet. In another place, there is an aperture in the earth,
from which rushes a column of steam that forms a perpetual cloud.
The ground for some distance around sounds hollow, and startles
the solitary trapper, as he hears the tramp of his horse giving
the sound of a muffled drum. He pictures to himself a mysterious
gulf below, a place of hidden fires, and gazes round him with awe
and uneasiness.

The most noted curiosity, however, of this singular region, is
the Beer Spring, of which trappers give wonderful accounts. They
are said to turn aside from their route through the country to
drink of its waters, with as much eagerness as the Arab seeks
some famous well of the desert. Captain Bonneville describes it
as having the taste of beer. His men drank it with avidity, and
in copious draughts. It did not appear to him to possess any
medicinal properties, or to produce any peculiar effects. The
Indians, however, refuse to taste it, and endeavor to persuade
the white men from doing so.

We have heard this also called the Soda Spring, and described as
containing iron and sulphur. It probably possesses some of the
properties of the Ballston water.

The time had now arrived for Captain Bonneville to go in quest of
the party of free trappers, detached in the beginning of July,
under the command of Mr. Hodgkiss, to trap upon the head waters
of Salmon River. His intention was to unite them with the party
with which he was at present travelling, that all might go into
quarters together for the winter. Accordingly, on the 11th of
November, he took a temporary leave of his band, appointing a
rendezvous on Snake River, and, accompanied by three men, set out
upon his journey. His route lay across the plain of the Portneuf,
a tributary stream of Snake River, called after an unfortunate
Canadian trapper murdered by the Indians. The whole country
through which he passed bore evidence of volcanic convulsions and
conflagrations in the olden time. Great masses of lava lay
scattered about in every direction; the crags and cliffs had
apparently been under the action of fire; the rocks in some
places seemed to have been in a state of fusion; the plain was
rent and split with deep chasms and gullies, some of which were
partly filled with lava.

They had not proceeded far, however, before they saw a party of
horsemen, galloping full tilt toward them. They instantly turned,
and made full speed for the covert of a woody stream, to fortify
themselves among the trees. The Indians came to a halt, and one
of them came forward alone. He reached Captain Bonneville and his
men just as they were dismounting and about to post themselves. A
few words dispelled all uneasiness. It was a party of twenty-five
Bannack Indians, friendly to the whites, and they proposed,
through their envoy, that both parties should encamp together,
and hunt the buffalo, of which they had discovered several large
herds hard by. Captain Bonneville cheerfully assented to their
proposition, being curious to see their manner of hunting.

Both parties accordingly encamped together on a convenient spot,
and prepared for the hunt. The Indians first posted a boy on a
small hill near the camp, to keep a look-out for enemies. The
"runners," then, as they are called, mounted on fleet horses, and
armed with bows and arrows, moved slowly and cautiously toward
the buffalo, keeping as much as possible out of sight, in hollows
and ravines. When within a proper distance, a signal was given,
and they all opened at once like a pack of hounds, with a full
chorus of yells, dashing into the midst of the herds, and
launching their arrows to the right and left. The plain seemed
absolutely to shake under the tramp of the buffalo, as they
scoured off. The cows in headlong panic, the bulls furious with
rage, uttering deep roars, and occasionally turning with a
desperate rush upon their pursuers. Nothing could surpass the
spirit, grace, and dexterity, with which the Indians managed
their horses; wheeling and coursing among the affrighted herd,
and launching their arrows with unerring aim. In the midst of the
apparent confusion, they selected their victims with perfect
judgment, generally aiming at the fattest of the cows, the flesh
of the bull being nearly worthless, at this season of the year.
In a few minutes, each of the hunters had crippled three or four
cows. A single shot was sufficient for the purpose, and the
animal, once maimed, was left to be completely dispatched at the
end of the chase. Frequently, a cow was killed on the spot by a
single arrow. In one instance, Captain Bonneville saw an Indian
shoot his arrow completely through the body of a cow, so that it
struck in the ground beyond. The bulls, however, are not so
easily killed as the cows, and always cost the hunter several
arrows; sometimes making battle upon the horses, and chasing them
furiously, though severely wounded, with the darts still sticking
in their flesh.

The grand scamper of the hunt being over, the Indians proceeded
to dispatch the animals that had been disabled; then cutting up
the carcasses, they returned with loads of meat to the camp,
where the choicest pieces were soon roasting before large fires,
and a hunters' feast succeeded; at which Captain Bonneville and
his men were qualified, by previous fasting, to perform their
parts with great vigor.

Some men are said to wax valorous upon a full stomach, and such
seemed to be the case with the Bannack braves, who, in proportion
as they crammed themselves with buffalo meat, grew stout of
heart, until, the supper at an end, they began to chant war
songs, setting forth their mighty deeds, and the victories they
had gained over the Blackfeet. Warming with the theme, and
inflating themselves with their own eulogies, these magnanimous
heroes of the trencher would start up, advance a short distance
beyond the light of the fire, and apostrophize most vehemently
their Blackfeet enemies, as though they had been within hearing.
Ruffling, and swelling, and snorting, and slapping their breasts,
and brandishing their arms, they would vociferate all their
exploits; reminding the Blackfeet how they had drenched their
towns in tears and blood; enumerate the blows they had inflicted,
the warriors they had slain, the scalps they had brought off in
triumph. Then, having said everything that could stir a man's
spleen or pique his valor, they would dare their imaginary
hearers, now that the Bannacks were few in number, to come and
take their revenge--receiving no reply to this valorous bravado,
they would conclude by all kinds of sneers and insults, deriding
the Blackfeet for dastards and poltroons, that dared not accept
their challenge. Such is the kind of swaggering and rhodomontade
in which the "red men" are prone to indulge in their vainglorious
moments; for, with all their vaunted taciturnity, they are
vehemently prone at times to become eloquent about their
exploits, and to sound their own trumpet.

Having vented their valor in this fierce effervescence, the
Bannack braves gradually calmed down, lowered their crests,
smoothed their ruffled feathers, and betook themselves to sleep,
without placing a single guard over their camp; so that, had the
Blackfeet taken them at their word, but few of these braggart
heroes might have survived for any further boasting.

On the following morning, Captain Bonneville purchased a supply
of buffalo meat from his braggadocio friends; who, with all their
vaporing, were in fact a very forlorn horde, destitute of
firearms, and of almost everything that constitutes riches in
savage life. The bargain concluded, the Bannacks set off for
their village, which was situated, they said, at the mouth of the
Portneuf, and Captain Bonneville and his companions shaped their
course toward Snake River.

Arrived on the banks of that river, he found it rapid and
boisterous, but not too deep to be forded. In traversing it,
however, one of the horses was swept suddenly from his footing,
and his rider was flung from the saddle into the midst of the
stream. Both horse and horseman were extricated without any
damage, excepting that the latter was completely drenched, so
that it was necessary to kindle a fire to dry him. While they
were thus occupied, one of the party looking up, perceived an
Indian scout cautiously reconnoitring them from the summit of a
neighboring hill. The moment he found himself discovered, he
disappeared behind the hill. From his furtive movements, Captain
Bonneville suspected him to be a scout from the Blackfeet camp,
and that he had gone to report what he had seen to his
companions. It would not do to loiter in such a neighborhood, so
the kindling of the fire was abandoned, the drenched horseman
mounted in dripping condition, and the little band pushed forward
directly into the plain, going at a smart pace, until they had
gained a considerable distance from the place of supposed danger.
Here encamping for the night, in the midst of abundance of sage,
or wormwood, which afforded fodder for their horses, they kindled
a huge fire for the benefit of their damp comrade, and then
proceeded to prepare a sumptuous supper of buffalo humps and
ribs, and other choice bits, which they had brought with them.
After a hearty repast, relished with an appetite unknown to city
epicures, they stretched themselves upon their couches of skins,
and under the starry canopy of heaven, enjoyed the sound and
sweet sleep of hardy and well-fed mountaineers.

They continued on their journey for several days, without any
incident worthy of notice, and on the 19th of November, came upon
traces of the party of which they were in search; such as burned
patches of prairie, and deserted camping grounds. All these were
carefully examined, to discover by their freshness or antiquity
the probable time that the trappers had left them; at length,
after much wandering and investigating, they came upon the
regular trail of the hunting party, which led into the mountains,
and following it up briskly, came about two o'clock in the
afternoon of the 20th, upon the encampment of Hodgkiss and his
band of free trappers, in the bosom of a mountain valley.

It will be recollected that these free trappers, who were masters
of themselves and their movements, had refused to accompany
Captain Bonneville back to Green River in the preceding month of
July, preferring to trap about the upper waters of the Salmon
River, where they expected to find plenty of beaver, and a less
dangerous neighborhood. Their hunt had not been very successful.
They had penetrated the great range of mountains among which some
of the upper branches of Salmon River take their rise, but had
become so entangled among immense and almost impassable
barricades of fallen pines, and so impeded by tremendous
precipices, that a great part of their season had been wasted
among these mountains. At one time, they had made their way
through them, and reached the Boisee River; but meeting with a
band of Bannack Indians, from whom they apprehended hostilities,
they had again taken shelter among the mountains, where they were
found by Captain Bonneville. In the neighborhood of their
encampment, the captain had the good fortune to meet with a
family of those wanderers of the mountains, emphatically called
"les dignes de pitie," or Poordevil Indians. These, however,
appear to have forfeited the title, for they had with them a fine
lot of skins of beaver, elk, deer, and mountain sheep. These,
Captain Bonneville purchased from them at a fair valuation, and
sent them off astonished at their own wealth, and no doubt
objects of envy to all their pitiful tribe.

Being now reinforced by Hodgkiss and his band of free trappers,
Captain Bonneville put himself at the head of the united parties,
and set out to rejoin those he had recently left at the Beer
Spring, that they might all go into winter quarters on Snake
River. On his route, he encountered many heavy falls of snow,
which melted almost immediately, so as not to impede his march,
and on the 4th of December, he found his other party, encamped at
the very place where he had partaken in the buffalo hunt with the
Bannacks.

That braggart horde was encamped but about three miles off, and
were just then in high glee and festivity, and more swaggering
than ever, celebrating a prodigious victory. It appeared that a
party of their braves being out on a hunting excursion,
discovered a band of Blackfeet moving, as they thought, to
surprise their hunting camp. The Bannacks immediately posted
themselves on each side of a dark ravine, through which the enemy
must pass, and, just as they were entangled in the midst of it,
attacked them with great fury. The Blackfeet, struck with sudden
panic, threw off their buffalo robes and fled, leaving one of
their warriors dead on the spot. The victors eagerly gathered up
the spoils; but their greatest prize was the scalp of the
Blackfoot brave. This they bore off in triumph to their village,
where it had ever since been an