USA > Oregon > The Oregon trail : sketches of prairie and Rocky Mountain life > Part 16
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of a little declivity, where a most welcome sight greeted my eye; a nook of fresh green grass nestled among the cliffs, sunny clumps of bushes on one side, and shaggy old pine- trees leaning forward from the rocks on the other. A shrill, familiar voice saluted me, and recalled me to days of boy- 5 hood; that of the insect called the "locust"º by New Eng- land schoolboys, which was fast clinging among the heated boughs of the old pine-trees. Then, too, as I passed the bushes, the low sound of falling water reached my ear. Pauline turned of her own accord, and pushing through the Ic boughs we found a black rock, overarched by the cool green canopy. An icy stream was pouring from its side into a wide basin of white sand, from whence it had no visible outlet, but filtered through into the soil below. While I filled a tin cup at the spring, Pauline was eagerly plunging her head 15 deep in the pool. Other visitors had been there before us. All around in the soft soil were the footprints of elk, deer, and the Rocky mountain sheep; and the grizzly bear too had left the recent prints of his broad ioot, with its frightful array of claws. Among these mountains was his home. 20
Soon after leaving the spring we found a little grassy plain, encircled by the mountains, and marked, to our great. joy, with all the traces of an Indian camp. Raymond's practiced eye detected certain signs by which he recognized the spot where Reynal's lodge had been pitched and his 25 horses picketed. I approached, and stood looking at the place. Reynal and I had, I believe, hardly a feeling in common. I disliked the fellow, and it perplexed me a good deal to understand why I should look with so much interest on the ashes of his fire, when between him and me there 30 seemed no other bond of sympathy than the slender and precarious one of a kindred race.
In half an hour from this we were clear of the mountains. There was a plain before us, totally barren and thickly peopled in many parts with the little prairie dogs, who sat 35 at the mouths of their burrows and yelped at us as we passed. The plain, as we thought, was about six miles wide; but it cost us two hours to cross it. Then another mountain range rose before us, grander and more wild than the last had been. Far out of the dense shrubbery that clothed the 40 steeps for a thousand feet shot up black crags, all leaning
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one way, and shattered by storms and thunder into grim and threatening shapes. As we entered a narrow passage on the trail of the Indians, they impended frightfully on one side, above our heads.
5 Our course was through dense woods, in the shade and twinkling sunlight of overhanging boughs. I would I could recall to mind all the startling combinations that presented themselves, as winding from side to side of the passage, to avoid its obstructions, we could see, glancing at intervals Io through the foliage, the awful forms of the gigantic cliffs, that seemed at times to hem us in on the right and on the left, before us and behind ! Another scene in a few moments greeted us; a tract of gray and sunny woods, broken into knolls and hollows, enlivened by birds and interspersed with 15 flowers. `Among the rest I recognized the mellow whistle of the robin, an old familiar friend whom I had scarce expected to meet in such a place. Humble-bees too were buzzing heavily about the flowers; and of these a species of larkspur caught my eye, more appropriate, it should seem,to culti- 20 vated gardens than to a remote wilderness. Instantly it recalled a multitude of dormant and delightful recollections.
Leaving behind us this spot and its associations, a sight soon presented itself, characteristic of that warlike region. In an open space, fenced in by high rocks, stood two Indian 25 forts, of a square form, rudely built of sticks and logs. They were somewhat ruinous, having probably been con- structed the year before. Each might have contained about twenty men. Perhaps in this gloomy spot some party had been beset by their enemies, and those scowling rocks and 3º blasted trees might not long since have looked down on a conflict unchronicled and unknown. Yet if any traces of bloodshed remained they were completely hidden by the bushes and tall rank weeds.
Gradually the mountains drew apart, and the passage 35 expanded into a plain, where again we found traces of an Indian encampment. There were trees and bushes just before us, and we stopped here for an hour's rest and refresh- ment. When we had finished our meal Raymond struck fire, and lighting his pipe, sat down at the foot of a tree to 40 smoke. For some time I observed him puffing away with a face of unusual solemnity. Then slowly taking the pipe
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from his lips, he looked up and remarked that we had better not go any farther.
" Why not ?" asked I.
He said that the country was become very dangerous, that we were entering the range of the Snakes, Arapahoes 5 and Gros-ventre Blackfeet, and that if any of their wan- dering parties should meet us, it would cost us our lives; but he added, with a blunt fidelity that nearly reconciled me to his stupidity, that he would go anywhere I wished. I told him to bring up the animals, and mounting them Io we proceeded again. I confess that, as we moved forward, the prospect seemed but a dreary and doubtful one. I would have given the world for my ordinary elasticity of body and mind, and for a horse of such strength and spirit as the journey required.
15
Closer and closer the rocks gathered round us, growing taller and steeper, and pressing more and more upon our path. We entered at length a defile which I never have seen rivaled. The mountain was cracked from top to bot- tom, and we were creeping along the bottom of the fissure, 20 in dampness and gloom, with the clink of hoofs on the loose shingly rocks, and the hoarse murmuring of a petulant brook which kept us company. Sometimes the water, foaming among the stones, overspread the whole narrow passage; sometimes, withdrawing to one side, it gave us room to 25 pass dry-shod. Looking up, we could see a narrow ribbon of bright blue sky between the dark edges of the opposing cliffs. This did not last long. The passage soon widened, and sunbeams found their way down, flashing upon the black waters. The defile would spread out to many rods in width; 30 bushes, trees, and flowers would spring by the side of the brook; the cliffs would be feathered with shrubbery, that clung in every crevice, and fringed with trees, that grew along their sunny edges. Then we would be moving again in the darkness. The passage seemed about four miles long, 35 and before we reached the end of it, the unshod hoofs of our animals were lamentably broken, and their legs cut by the sharp stones. Issuing from the mountain we found another plain. All around it stood a circle of lofty precipices, that seemed the impersonation of silence and solitude. Here 40 again the Indians had encamped, as well they might, after
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passing with their women, children, and horses through the gulf behind us. In one day we had made a journey which had cost them three to accomplish.
The only outlet to this amphitheater lay over a hill some 5 two hundred feet high, up which we moved with difficulty. Looking from the top, we saw that at last we were free of the mountains. The prairie spread before us, but so wild and broken that the view was everywhere obstructed. Far on our left one tall hill swelled up against the sky, on the Io smooth, pale green surface of which four slowly moving black specks were discernible. They were evidently buffalo, and we hailed the sight as a good augury; for where the buffalo were, there too the Indians would probably be found. We hoped on that very night to reach the village. We were 15 anxious to do so for a double reason, wishing to bring our wearisome journey to an end, and knowing, moreover, that though to enter the village in broad daylight would be a perfectly safe experiment, yet to encamp in its vicinity would be dangerous. But as we rode on, the sun was sink- 20 ing, and soon was within half an hour of the horizon. We ascended a hill and looked round us for a spot for our en- campment. The prairie was like a turbulent ocean, sud- denly congealed when its waves were at the highest, and it lay half in light and half in shadow, as the rich sunshine, 25 yellow as gold, was pouring over it. The rough bushes of the wild sage were growing everywhere, its dull pale green over- spreading hill and hollow. Yet a little way before us, a bright verdant line of grass was winding along the plain, and here and there throughout its course water was glisten- 30 ing darkly. We went down to it, kindled a fire, and turned our horses loose to feed. It was a little trickling brook, that for some yards on either bank turned the barren prairie into fertility, and here and there it spread into deep pools, where the beaver had dammed it up.
We placed our last remaining piece of the antelope before a scanty fire, mournfully reflecting on our exhausted stock of provisions. Just then an enormous gray hare, peculiar to these prairies, came jumping along, and seated himself within fifty yards to look at us. I thoughtlessly raised my 40 rifle to shoot him, but Raymond called out to me not to fire for fear the report should reach the ears of the Indians.
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That night for the first time we considered that the danger to which we were exposed was of a somewhat serious char- acter; and to those who are unacquainted with Indians, it may seem strange that our chief apprehensions arose from the supposed proximity of the people whom we intended to 5 visit. Had any straggling party of these faithful friends caught sight of us from the hill-top, they would probably have returned in the night to plunder us of our horses and perhaps of our scalps. But we were on the prairie, where the genius lociº is at war with all nervous apprehensions; 10 and I presume that neither Raymond nor I thought twice of the matter that evening.
While he was looking after the animals, I sat by the fire engaged in the novel task of baking bread. The utensils were of the most simple and primitive kind, consisting of 15 two sticks inclining over the bed of coals, one end thrust into the ground while the dough was twisted in a spiral form round the other. Under such circumstances all the epicurean in a man's nature is apt to awaken within him. I revisited in fancy the far distant abodes of good fare, not 20 indeed Frascati's,º or the Trois Frères Provençaux,° for that were too extreme a flight; but no other than the homely table of my old friend and host, Tom Crawford, of the White mountains.º By a singular revulsion, Tom himself, whom I well remember to have looked upon as the imper- 25 sonation of all that is wild and backwoodsmanlike, now appeared before me as the ministering angel of comfort and good living. Being fatigued and drowsy I began to doze, and my thoughts, following the same train of as- sociation, assumed another form. Half-dreaming, I saw 30 myself surrounded with the mountains of New England, alive with water-falls, their black crags tinctured with milk- white mists. For this reverie I paid a speedy penalty; for the bread was black on one side and soft on the other.
For eight hours Raymond and I, pillowed on our sad- 35 dles, lay insensible as logs. Pauline's yellow head was stretched over me when I awoke. I got up and examined her. Her feet indeed were bruised and swollen by the accidents of yesterday, but her eye was brighter, her mo- tions livelier, and her mysterious malady had visibly 40 abated. We moved on, hoping within an hour to come
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in sight of the Indian village; but again disappointment awaited us. The trail disappeared, melting away upon a hard and stony plain. Raymond and I separating, rode from side to side, scrutinizing every yard of ground, until 5 at length I discerned traces of the lodge-poles passing by the side of a ridge of rocks. We began again to follow them.
" What is that black spot out there on the prairie ?"
" It looks like a dead buffalo," answered Raymond.
IO We rode out to it, and found it to be the huge carcass of a bull killed by the hunters as they had passed. Tangled hair and scraps of hide were scattered all around, for the wolves had been making merry over it, and had hollowed out the entire carcass. It was covered with myriads of 15 large black crickets, and from its appearance must cer- tainly have lain there for four or five days. The sight was a most disheartening one, and I observed to Raymond that the Indians might still be fifty or sixty miles before us. But he shook his head, and replied that they dared not 20 go so far for fear of their enemies, the Snakes.
Soon after this we lost the trail again, and ascended a neighboring ridge, totally at a loss. Before us lay a plain perfectly flat, spreading on the right and left, without ap- parent limit, and bounded in front by a long broken line 25 of hills, ten or twelve miles distant. All was open and ex- posed to view, yet not a buffalo nor an Indian was visible. "Do you see that ?" said Raymond; "now we had better turn round."
But as Raymond's bourgeois thought otherwise, we de- 3º scended the hill and began to cross the plain. We had come so far that I knew perfectly well neither Pauline's limbs nor my own could carry me back to Fort Laramie. I considered that the lines of expediency and inclination tallied exactly, and that the most prudent course was to 35 keep forward. The ground immediately around us was thickly strewn with the skulls and bones of buffalo, for here a year or two before the Indians had made a "surround"; yet no living game presented itself. At length, however, an antelope sprang up and gazed at us. We fired together, 40 and by a singular fatality we both missed, although the animal stood, a fair mark, within eighty yards. This ill
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success might perhaps be charged to our own eagerness, for by this time we had no provision left except a little flour. We could discern several small lakes, or rather ex- tensive pools of water, glistening in the distance. As we approached them, wolves and antelopes bounded away 5 through the tall grass that grew in their vicinity, and flocks of large white plover flew screaming over their surface. Having failed of the antelope, Raymond tried his hand at the birds with the same ill success. The water also disappointed us. Its muddy margin was so beaten up by the crowd of Ic buffalo that our timorous animals were afraid to approach. So we turned away and moved toward the hills. The rank grass, where it was not trampled down by the buffalo, fairly swept our horses' necks.
Again we found the same execrable barren prairie offer- 15 ing no clew by which to guide our way. As we drew near the hills an opening appeared, through which the Indians must have gone if they had passed that way at all. Slowly we began to ascend it. I felt the most dreary forebodings of ill success, when on looking around I could discover 20 neither dent of hoof, nor footprint, nor trace of lodge-pole, though the passage was encumbered by the ghastly skulls of buffalo. We heard thunder muttering; a storm was coming on.
As we gained the top of the gap, the prospect beyond 25 began to disclose itself. First, we saw a long dark line of ragged clouds upon the horizon, while above them rose the peak of the Medicine-Bow, the vanguard of the Rocky mountains; then little by little the plain came into view, a vast green uniformity, forlorn and tenantless, though 30 Laramie creek glistened in a waving line over its surface, without a bush or a tree upon its banks. As yet, the round projecting shoulder of a hill intercepted a part of the view. I rode in advance, when suddenly I could dis- tinguish a few dark spots on the prairie, along the bank 35 of the stream.
" Buffalo !" said I. Then a sudden hope flashed upon me, and eagerly and anxiously I looked again.
"Horses !" exclaimed Raymond, with a tremendous oath, lashing his mule forward as he spoke. More and more 40 of the plain disclosed itself, and in rapid succession more
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and more horses appeared, scattered along the river bank, or feeding in bands over the prairie. Then, suddenly, standing in a circle by the stream, swarming with their savage inhabitants, we saw rising before us the tall lodges 5 of the Ogallallahs. Never did the heart of wanderer more gladden at the sight of home than did mine at the sight of those wild habitations !
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CHAPTER XIV
THE OGALLALLAH VILLAGE
SUCH a narrative as this is hardly the place for portray- ing the mental features of the Indians. The same picture, slightly changed in shade and coloring, would serve with very few exceptions for all the tribes that lie north of the Mexican territories. But with this striking similarity in 5 their modes of thought, the tribes of the lake and ocean shores, of the forests and of the plains, differ greatly in their manner of life. Having been domesticated for several weeks among one of the wildest of the wild hordes that roam over the remote prairies, I had extraordinary Io opportunities of observing them. I flatter myself that a faithful picture of the scenes that passed daily before my eyes may not be devoid of interest and value. These men were thorough savages. Neither their manners nor their ideas were in the slightest degree modified by con- 15 tact with civilization. They knew nothing of the power and real character of the white men, and their children would scream in terror at the sight of me. Their religion, their superstitions, and their prejudices were the same that had been handed down to them from immemorial 20 time. They fought with the same weapons that their fathers fought with, and wore the same rude garments of skins.
Great changes are at hand in that region. With the stream of emigration to Oregon and California, the buffalo 25 will dwindle away, and the large wandering communities who depend on them for support must be broken and scattered. The Indians will soon be corrupted by the ex- ample of the whites, abased by whisky, and overawed by military posts; so that within a few years the traveler 30 may pass in tolerable security through their country. Its danger and its charm will have disappeared together.
As soon as Raymond and I discovered the village from
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the gap in the hills, we were seen in our turn; keen eyes were constantly on the watch. As we rode down upon the plain the side of the village nearest us was darkened with a crowd of naked figures gathering around the lodges. 5 Several men came forward to meet us. I could distin- guish among them the green blanket of the Frenchman Reynal. When we came up the ceremony of shaking hands had to be gone through with in due form, and then all were eager to know what had become of the rest of my 10 party. I satisfied them on this point, and we all moved forward together toward the village.
" You've missed it," said Reynal; "if you'd been here day before yesterday, you'd have found the whole prairie over yonder black with buffalo so far as you could see. There 15 were no cows, though; nothing but bulls. We made a 'surround' every day till yesterday. See the village there; don't that look like good living ?"
In fact I could see, even at that distance, that long cords were stretched from lodge to lodge, over which the meat, 20 cut by the squaws into thin sheets, was hanging to dry in the sun. I noticed too that the village was somewhat smaller than when I had last seen it, and I asked Reynal the cause. He said that old Le Borgne had felt too weak to pass over the mountains, and so had remained be- 25 hind with his relations, including Mahto-Tatonka and his brothers. The Whirlwind too had been unwilling to come so far, because, as Reynal said, he was afraid. Only half a dozen lodges had adhered to him, the main body of the village setting their chief's authority at naught, and taking 30 the course most agreeable to their inclinations.
" What chiefs are there in the village now ?" said I.
" Well," said Reynal, "there's old Red-Water, and The Eagle-Feather, and The Big Crow, and The Mad Wolf and The Panther, and The White-Shield, and - what's his 35 name ? - the half-breed Cheyenne."
By this time we were close to the village, and I observed that while the greater part of the lodges were very large and neat in their appearance, there was at one side a cluster of squalid, miserable huts. I looked toward them, and 40 made some remark about their wretched appearance. But I was touching upon delicate ground.
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"My squaw's relations live in those lodges," said Reynal very warmly, "and there isn't a better set in the whole village."
" Are there any chiefs among them ?" asked I.
"Chiefs ?" said Reynal; "yes, plenty !"
" What are their names ?" I inquired.
5
"Their names? Why, there's The Arrow-Head. If he Isn't a chief he ought to be one. And there's The Hail- Storm. He's nothing but a boy, to be sure; but he's bound to be a chief one of these days !"
IG
Just then we passed between two of the lodges, and entered the great area of the village. Superb naked figures stood silently gazing on us.
" Where's The Bad Wound's lodge ?" said I to Reynal.
"There, you've missed it again! The Bad Wound is 15 away with The Whirlwind. If you could have found him here, and gone to live in his lodge, he would have treated you better than any man in the village. But there's The Big Crow's lodge yonder, next to old Red-Water's. He's a good Indian for the whites, and I advise you to go and 20 live with him."
"Are there many squaws and children in his lodge?" said I.
"No; only one squaw and two or three children. He keeps the rest in a separate lodge by themselves."
25
So, still followed by a crowd of Indians, Raymond and I rode up to the entrance of The Big Crow's lodge. A squaw came out immediately and took our horses. I put aside the leather flap that covered the low opening, and stooping, entered The Big Crow's dwelling. There I could 30 see the chief in the dim light, seated at one side, on a pile of buffalo robes. He greeted me with a guttural "How, cola !" I requested Reynal to tell him that Raymond and I were come to live with him. The Big Crow gave an- other low exclamation. If the reader thinks that we were 35 intruding somewhat cavalierly, I beg him to observe that every Indian in the village would have deemed himself honored that white men should give such preference to his hospitality.
The squaw spread a buffalo robe for us in the guest's 40 place at the head of the lodge. Our saddles were brought
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in, and scarcely were we seated upon them before the place was thronged with Indians, who came crowding in to see us. The Big Crow produced his pipe and filled it with the mixture of tobacco and shongsasha, or red willow 5 bark. Round and round it passed, and a lively conver- sation went forward. Meanwhile a squaw placed before the two guests a wooden bowl of boiled buffalo meat, but unhappily this was not the only banquet destined to be inflicted on us. Rapidly, one after another, boys and 10 young squaws thrust their heads in at the opening, to invite us to various feasts in different parts of the village. For half an hour or more we were actively engaged in pass- ing from lodge to lodge, tasting in each of the bowl of meat set before us, and inhaling a whiff or two from our enter- 15 tainer's pipe. A thunderstorm that had been threatening for some time now began in good earnest. We crossed over to Reynal's lodge, though it hardly deserved this name, for it consisted only of a few old buffalo robes, supported on poles, and was quite open on one side. Here we sat 20 down, and the Indians gathered round us.
" What is it," said I, " that makes the thunder ?"
" It's my belief," said Reynal, "that it is a big stone rolling over the sky."
"Very likely," I replied; "but I want to know what 25 the Indians think about it."
So he interpreted my question, which seemed to produce some doubt and debate. There was evidently a difference of opinion. At last old Mene-Seela, or Red-Water, who sat by himself at one side, looked up with his withered 30 face, and said he had always known what the thunder was. It was a great black bird; and once he had seen it, in a dream, swooping down from the Black hills, with its loud roaring wings; and when it flapped them over a lake, they struck lightning from the water.
35 "The thunder is bad," said another old man, who sat inuffled in his buffalo robe: "he killed my brother last summer."
Reynal, at my request, asked for an explanation; but the old man remained doggedly silent, and would not look 40 up. Some time after I learned how the accident occurred. The man who was killed belonged to an association which,
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