USA > Oregon > The Oregon trail : sketches of prairie and Rocky Mountain life > Part 14
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hands. Some sat on horseback, motionless as equestrian statues, their arms crossed on their breasts, their eyes fixed in a steady unwavering gaze upon us. Some stood erect, wrapped from head to foot in their long white robes of buffalo hide. Some sat together on the grass, holding 5 their shaggy horses by a rope, with their broad dark busts exposed to view as they suffered their robes to fall from their shoulders. Others again stood carelessly among the throng, with nothing to conceal the matchless symmetry of their forms; and I do not exaggerate when I say that only on Ic the prairie and in the Vatican have I seen such faultless models of the human figure. See that warrior standing by the tree, towering six feet and a half in stature. Your eyes may trace the whole of his graceful and majestic height, and discover no defect or blemish. With his free and noble 15 attitude, with the bow in his hand, and the quiver at his back, he might seem, but for his face, the Pythian Apollo himself. Such a figure rose before the imagination of West,º when on first seeing the Belvidere in the Vatican, he ex- claimed, "By God, a Mohawk !" 20
When the sky darkened and the stars began to appear; when the prairie was involved in gloom and the horses were driven in and secured around the camp, the crowd began to melt away. Fires gleamed around, duskily revealing the rough trappers and the graceful Indians. One of the 25 families near us would always be gathered about a bright blaze, that displayed the shadowy dimensions of their lodge, and sent its lights far up among the masses of foliage above, gilding the dead and ragged branches. Withered witchlike hags flitted around the blaze, and here for hour after hour 30 sat a circle of children and young girls, laughing and talking, their round merry faces glowing in the ruddy light. We could hear the monotonous notes of the drum from the In- dian village, with the chant of the war song, deadened in the distance, and the long chorus of quavering yells, where the 35 war dance was going on in the largest lodge. For several nights, too, we could hear wild and mournful cries, rising and dying away like the melancholy voice of a wolf. They came from the sisters and female relatives of Mahto-Tatonka, who were gashing their limbs with knives, and bewailing 40 the death of Henry Chatillon's squaw. The hour would grow late before all retired to rest in the camp. Then the
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embers of the fires would be glowing dimly, the men would be stretched in their blankets on the ground, and nothing could be heard but the restless motions of the crowded horses.
5 I recall these scenes with a mixed feeling of pleasure and pain. At this time I was so reduced by illness that I could seldom walk without reeling like a drunken man, and when I rose from my seat upon the ground the landscape suddenly grew dim before my eyes, the trees and lodges seemed to Io sway to and fro, and the prairie to rise and fall like the swells of the ocean. Such a state of things is by no means enviable anywhere. In a country where a man's life may at any moment depend on the strength of his arm, or it may be on the activity of his legs, it is more particularly incon- 15 venient. Medical assistance of course there was none; neither had I the means of pursuing a system of diet; and sleeping on a damp ground, with an occasional drenching from a shower, would hardly be recommended as beneficial. I sometimes suffered the extremity of exhaustion, and 20 though at the time I felt no apprehensions of the final result, I have since learned that my situation was a critical one.
I tried repose and a very sparing diet. For a long time, with exemplary patience, I lounged about the camp, or at 25 the utmost staggered over to the Indian village, and walked faint and dizzy among the lodges. It would not do, and I bethought me of starvation. During five days I sustained
life on one small biscuit a day. At the end of that time I was weaker than before, but the disorder seemed shaken in 30 its stronghold and very gradually I began to resume a less rigid diet.
I used to lie languid and dreamy before our tent and muse on the past and the future, and when most overcome with lassitude, my eyes turned always toward the distant Black 35 hills. There is a spirit of energy and vigor in mountains, and they impart it to all who approach their presence. At that time I did not know how many dark superstitions and gloomy legends are associated with those mountains in the minds of the Indians, but I felt an eager desire to penetrate 10 their hidden recesses, to explore the awful chasms and preci- pices, the black torrents, the silent forests, that I fancied were concealed there.
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CHAPTER XII
ILL LUCK
A CANADIAN came from Fort Laramie, and brought a curious piece of intelligence. A trapper, fresh from the mountains, had become enamored of a Missouri damsel belonging to a family who with other emigrants had been for some days encamped in the neighborhood of the fort. 5 If bravery be the most potent charm to win the favor of the fair, then no wooer could be more irresistible than a Rocky mountain trapper. In the present instance, the suit was not urged in vain. The lovers concerted a scheme, which they proceeded to carry into effect with all possible dis- Ic patch. The emigrant party left the fort, and on the next - succeeding night but one encamped as usual, and placed a guard. A little after midnight the enamored trapper drew near, mounted on a strong horse and leading another by the bridle. Fastening both animals to a tree, he stealthily 15 moved toward the wagons, as if he were approaching a band
of buffalo. Eluding the vigilance of the guard, who was probably half asleep, he met his mistress by appointment at the outskirts of the camp, mounted her on his spare horse, and made off with her through the darkness. The sequel 20 of the adventure did not reach our ears, and we never learned how the imprudent fair one liked an Indian lodge for a dwelling, and a reckless trapper for a bridegroom.
At length The Whirlwind and his warriors determined to move. They had resolved after all their preparations not 25 to go to the rendezvous at La Bonté's camp, but to pass through the Black hills and spend a few weeks in hunting. the buffalo on the other side, until they had killed enough to furnish them with a stock of provisions and with hides to make their lodges for the next season. This done, they 30 were to send out a small independent war party against the enemy. Their final determination left us in some embar-
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rassment. Should we go to La Bonté's camp, it was not impossible that the other villages would prove as vacillating and indecisive as The Whirlwind's, and that no assembly whatever would take place. Our old companion Reynal 5 had conceived a liking for us, or rather for our biscuit and coffee, and for the occasional small presents which we made him. He was very anxious that we should go with the village which he himself intended to accompany. He declared he was certain that no Indians would meet at the Io rendezvous, and said moreover that it would be easy to convey our cart and baggage through the Black hills. In saying this, he told as usual an egregious falsehood. Neither he nor any white man with us had ever seen the difficult and obscure defiles through which the Indians intended to 15 make their way. I passed them afterward, and had much ado to force my distressed horse along the narrow ravines, and through chasms where daylight could scarcely pene- trate. Our cart might as easily have been conveyed over the summit of Pike's peak. Anticipating the difficulties 20 and uncertainties of an attempt to visit the rendezvous, we recalled the old proverb about a bird in the hand, and decided to follow the village.
Both camps, the Indians' and our own, broke up on the morning of the first of July. I was so weak that the aid 25 of a potent auxiliary, a spoonful of whisky swallowed at short intervals, alone enabled me to sit my hardy little mare Pauline through the short journey of that day. For half a mile before us and half a mile behind, the prairie was covered far and wide with the moving throng of savages. 30 The barren, broken plain stretched away to the right and left, and far in front rose the gloomy precipitous ridge of the Black hills. We pushed forward to the head of the scattered column, passing the burdened travaux, the heavily laden pack horses, the gaunt old women on foot, the gay young 35 squaws on horseback, the restless children running among the crowd, old men striding along in their white buffalo robes, and groups of young warriors mounted on their best
horses. Henry Chatillon, looking backward over the dis- tant prairie, exclaimed suddenly that a horseman was ap- 40 proaching, and in truth we could just discern a small black speck slowly moving over the face of a distant swell, like
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a fly creeping on a wall. It rapidly grew larger as it ap- proached.
" White man, I b'lieve," said Henry; "look how he ride ! Indian never ride that way. Yes; he got rifle on the saddle before him."
5
The horseman disappeared in a hollow of the prairie, but we soon saw him again, and as he came riding at a gallop toward us through the crowd of Indians, his long hair streaming in the wind behind him, we recognized the ruddy face and old buckskin frock of Jean Gras the trapper. Id He was just arrived from Fort Laramie, where he had been on a visit, and said he had a message for us. A trader named Bisonette, one of Henry's friends, was lately come from the settlements, and intended to go with a party of men to La Bonté's camp, where, as Jean Gras assured us, 15 ten or twelve villages of Indians would certainly assemble. Bisonette desired that we would cross over and meet him there, and promised that his men should protect our horses and baggage while we went among the Indians. Shaw and I stopped our horses and held a council, and in an evil 20 hour resolved to go.
For the rest of that day our course and that of the Indians was the same. In less than an hour we came to where the high barren prairie terminated, sinking down abruptly in steep descent; and standing on these heights, we saw below 25 us a great level meadow. Laramie creek bounded it on the left, sweeping along in the shadow of the declivities, and passing with its shallow and rapid current just below us. We sat on horseback, waiting and looking on, while the whole savage array went pouring past us, hurrying down the de- 30 scent and spreading themselves over the meadow below. In a few moments the plain was swarming with the moving multitude, some just visible, like specks in the distance, others still passing on, pressing down, and fording the stream with bustle and confusion. On the edge of the heights sat 35 half a dozen of the elder warriors, gravely smoking and look- ing down with unmoved faces on the wild and striking spec- tacle.
Up went the lodges in a circle on the margin of the stream. For the sake of quiet we pitched our tent among some trees 40 at half a mile's distance. In the afternoon we were in the
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village. The day was a glorious one, and the whole camp seemed lively and animated in sympathy. Groups of chil- dren and young girls were laughing gayly on the outside of the lodges. The shields, the lances, and the bows were 5 removed from the tall tripods on which they usually hung before the dwellings of their owners. The warriors were mounting their horses, and one by one riding away over the prairie toward the neighboring hills.
Shaw and I sat on the grass near the lodge of Reynal. 10 An old woman, with true Indian hospitality, brought a bowl of boiled venison and placed it before us. We amused ourselves with watching half a dozen young squaws who were playing together and chasing each other in and out of one of the lodges. Suddenly the wild yell of the war-whoop 15 came pealing from the hills. A crowd of horsemen appeared, rushing down their sides and riding at full speed toward the village, each warrior's long hair flying behind him in the wind like a ship's streamer. As they approached, the con- fused throng assumed a regular order, and entering two 20 by two, they circled round the area at full gallop, cach warrior singing his war song as he rode. Some of their dresses were splendid. They wore superb crests of feathers and close tunics of antelope skins, fringed with the scalp- locks of their enemies; their shields too were often fluttering '25 with the war eagle's feathers. All had bows and arrows at their backs; some carried long lances, and a few were armed with guns. The White Shield, their partisan, rode in gorgeous attire at their head, mounted on a black-and- white horse. Mahto-Tatonka and his brothers took no 30 part in this parade, for they were in mourning for their sister, and were all sitting in their lodges, their bodies be- daubed from head to foot with white clay, and a lock of hair cut from each of their foreheads.
The warriors circled three times round the village; and 35 as cach distinguished champion passed, the old women would scream out his name in honor of his bravery, and to incite the emulation of the younger warriors. Little urchins, not two years old, followed the warlike pageant with glittering eyes, and looked with eager wonder and 40 admiration at those whose honors were proclaimed by the public voice of the village. Thus carly is the lesson of
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ILL LUCK
war instilled into the mind of an Indian, and such are the stimulants which excite his thirst for martial renown.
The procession rode out of the village as it had entered it, and in half an hour all the warriors had returned again, dropping quietly in, singly or in parties of two or three.
5
As the sun rose next morning we looked across the meadow, and could see the lodges leveled and the Indians gathering together in preparation to leave the camp. Their course lay to the westward. We turned toward the north with our three men, the four trappers following us, with the 10 Indian family of Moran. We traveled until night. I suffered not a little from pain and weakness. We encamped among some trees by the side of a little brook, and here during the whole of the next day we lay waiting for Bisonette, but no Bisonette appeared. Here also two of our trapper friends 15 left us, and set out for the Rocky mountains. On the second morning, despairing of Bisonette's arrival, we resumed our journey, traversing a forlorn and dreary monotony of sun- scorched plains, where no living thing appeared save here and there an antelope flying before us like the wind. When 20 noon came we saw an unwonted and most welcome sight; a rich and luxuriant growth of trees, marking the course of a little stream called Horseshoe creek. We turned gladly toward it. There were lofty and spreading trees, standing widely asunder, and supporting a thick canopy of leaves, 25 above a surface of rich, tall grass. The stream ran swiftly, as clear as crystal, through the bosom of the wood, sparkling over its bed of white sand and darkening again as it entered a deep cavern of leaves and boughs. I was thoroughly ex- hausted, and flung myself on the ground, scarcely able to move. 30
In the morning as glorious a sun rose upon us as ever animated that desolate wilderness. We advanced and soon were surrounded by tall bare hills, overspread from top to bottom with prickly-pears and other cacti, that seemed like clinging reptiles. A plain, flat and hard, and 35 with scarcely the vestige of grass, lay before us, and a line of tall misshapen trees bounded the onward view. There was no sight or sound of man or beast, or any liv- ing thing, although behind those trees was the long-looked- for place of rendezvous, where we fondly hoped to have 40 found the Indians congregated by thousands. We looked
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and listened anxiously. We pushed forward with our best speed, and forced our horses through the trees. There were copses of some extent beyond, with a scanty stream creeping through their midst; and as we pressed through the yielding 5 branches, deer sprang up to the right and left. At length
we caught a glimpse of the prairie beyond. Soon we emerged upon it, and saw, not a plain covered with encamp- ments and swarming with life, but a vast unbroken desert stretching away before us league upon league, without a Io bush or a tree or anything that had life. We drew rein and gave to the winds our sentiments concerning the whole aboriginal race of America. Our journey was in vain and much worse than in vain. For myself, I was vexed and dis- appointed beyond measure; as I well knew that a slight 15 aggravation of my disorder would render this false step irrevocable, and make it quite impossible to accomplish effectually the design which had led me an arduous journey of between three and four thousand miles. To fortify my- self as well as I could against such a contingency, I resolved 20 that I would not under any circumstances attempt to leave the country until my object was completely gained.
And where were the Indians? They were assembled in great numbers at a spot about twenty miles distant, and there at that very moment they were engaged in their war- 25 like ceremonies. The scarcity of buffalo in the vicinity of La Bonté's camp, which would render their supply of provisions scanty and precarious, had probably prevented them from assembling there; but of all this we knew nothing until some weeks after.
30 Shaw lashed his horse and galloped forward. I, though much more vexed than he, was not strong enough to adopt this convenient vent to my feelings; so I followed at a quiet pace, but in no quiet mood. We rode up to a soli- tary old tree, which seemed the only place fit for encamp- 35 inent. Half its branches were dead, and the rest were so scantily furnished with leaves that they cast but a meager and wretched shade, and the old twisted trunk alone fur- nished sufficient protection from the sun. We threw down our saddles in the strip of shadow that it cast, and sat 40 down upon them. In silent indignation we remained smoking for an hour or more, shifting our saddles with the shifting shadow, for the sun was intolerably hot.
CHAPTER XIII
HUNTING INDIANS
AT last we had reached La Bonté's camp, toward which our eyes had turned so long. Of all weary hours, those that passed between noon and sunset of the day when we ar- rived there may bear away the palm of exquisite discom- fort. I lay under the tree reflecting on what course to 5 pursue, watching the shadows which seemed never to move, and the sun which remained fixed in the sky, and hoping every moment to see the men and horses of Bisonette emerg- ing from the woods. Shaw and Henry had ridden out on a scouting expedition, and did not return until the sun was Io setting. There was nothing very cheering in their faces nor in the news they brought.
" We have been ten miles from here," said Shaw. "We climbed the highest butte we could find, and could not see a buffalo or Indian; nothing but prairie for twenty miles 15 around us." Henry's horse was quite disabled by clamber- ing up and down the sides of ravines, and Shaw's was se- verely fatigued.
After supper that evening, as we sat around the fire, I proposed to Shaw to wait one day longer in hopes of Biso- 20 nette's arrival, and if he should not come to send Deslauriers with the cart and baggage back to Fort Laramie, while we ourselves followed The Whirlwind's village and attempted to overtake it as it passed the mountains. Shaw, not having the same motive for hunting Indians that I had, was averse 25 to the plan; I therefore resolved to go alone. This design I adopted very unwillingly, for I knew that in the present state of my health the attempt would be extremely un- pleasant, and, as I considered, hazardous. I hoped that Bisonette would appear in the course of the following day, 30 and bring us some information by which to direct our
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course, and enable me to accomplish my purpose by means less objectionable.
The rifle of Henry Chatillon was necessary for the sub sistence of the party in my absence; so I called Raymond, 5 and ordered him to prepare to set out with me. Raymond rolled his eyes vacantly about, but at length, having suc- ceeded in grappling with the idea, he withdrew to his bed under the cart. He was a heavy-molded fellow, with a broad face exactly like an owl's, expressing the most im- Io penetrable stupidity and entire self-confidence. As for his good qualities, he had a sort of stubborn fidelity, an insen- sibility to danger, and a kind of instinct or sagacity, which sometimes led him right, where better heads than his were at a loss. Besides this, he knew very well how to handle 15 a rifle and picket a horse.
Through the following day the sun glared down upon us with a pitiless, penetrating heat. The distant blue prairie seemed quivering under it. The lodge of our Indian associates was baking in the rays, and our rifles, as they 20 leaned against the tree, were too hot for the touch. There was a dead silence through our camp and all around it, un- broken except by the hum of gnats and mosquitoes. The men, resting their foreheads on their arms, were sleeping under the cart. The Indians kept close within their lodge 25 except the newly married pair, who were seated together under an awning of buffalo robes, and the old conjurer, who, with his hard, emaciated face and gaunt ribs, was perched aloft like a turkey-buzzard among the dead branches of an old tree, constantly on the lookout for enemies. He would 30 have made a capital shot. A rifle bullet, skillfully planted, would have brought him tumbling to the ground. Surely, I thought, there could be no more harm in shooting such a hideous old villain, to see how ugly he would look when he was dead, than in shooting the detestable vulture which 35 he resembled. We dined, and then Shaw saddled his horse.
" I will ride back," said he, "to Horseshoe creek, and see if Bisonette is there."
"I would go with you," I answered, "but I must reserve all the strength I have."
40 The afternoon dragged away at last. I occupied myself in cleaning my rifle and pistols, and making other prepa-
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rations for the journey. After supper, Henry Chatillon and I lay by the fire, discussing the properties of that ad- mirable weapon, the rifle, in the use of which he could fairly outrival Leatherstockingº himself.
It was late before I wrapped myself in my blanket and 5 lay down for the night, with my head on my saddle. Shaw had not returned, but this gave us no uneasiness, for we pre- sumed that he had fallen in with Bisonette, and was spend- ing the night with him. For a day or two past I had gained in strength and health, but about midnight an attack of 10 pain awoke me, and for some hours I felt no inclination to sleep. The moon was quivering on the broad breast of the Platte; nothing could be heard except those low inexpli- cable sounds, like whisperings and footsteps, which no one who has spent the night alone amid deserts and forests will 15 be at a loss to understand. As I was falling asleep, a famil- iar voice, shouting from the distance, awoke me again. A rapid step approached the camp, and Shaw on foot, with his gun in his hand, hastily entered.
" Where's your horse ?" said I, raising myself on my 20 elbow.
"Lost !" said Shaw. "Where's Deslauriers ?"
"There," I replied, pointing to a confused mass of blankets and buffalo robes.
Shaw touched them with the butt of his gun, and up 25 sprang our faithful Canadian.
"Come, Deslauriers; stir up the fire, and get me some- thing to eat."
" Where's Bisonette ?" asked I.
"The Lord knows; there's nobody at Horseshoe creek." : 30
Shaw had gone back to the spot where we had encamped two days before, and finding nothing there but the ashes of our fires, he had tied his horse to the tree while he bathed in the stream. Something startled his horse, who broke loose, and for two hours Shaw tried in vain to catch him. 35 Sunset approached, and it was twelve miles to camp. So he abandoned the attempt, and set out on foot to join us. The greater part of his perilous and solitary work was per- formed in darkness. His moccasins were worn to tatters and his feet severely lacerated. He sat down to eat, how- 40 ever, with the usual equanimity of his temper not at all
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disturbed by his misfortune, and my last recollection before falling asleep was of Shaw, seated cross-legged before the fire, smoking his pipe. The horse, I may as well mention here, was found the next morning by Henry Chatillon.
5 When I awoke again there was a fresh damp smell in the air, a gray twilight involved the prairie, and above its eastern verge was a streak of cold red sky. I called to the Inen, and in a moment a fire was blazing brightly in the dim morning light, and breakfast was getting ready. We Io sat down together on the grass, to the last civilized meal which Raymond and I were destined to enjoy for some time. "Now, bring in the horses."
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