THE 
 REGON 
 TRAIL 
 
 ARK? 
 
 LONGMANS' 
 ENGLISH 
 
 mm(i 
 
Copyright IJ?. 
 
 COPYRIGHT DEPOSIT. 
 
LONGMANS' ENGLISH CLASSICS 
 
 EDITED BY 
 
 ASHLEY H. THORNDIKE, Ph.D., L.H.D. 
 
 PROFESSOR OF ENGLISH IN COLUMBIA UNIVERSITY 
 
 FRANCIS PARKMAN 
 
 THE OREGON TRAIL 
 
Inngmane' Cnglisl) Claseicei 
 FRANCIS PARKMAN'S 
 
 THE OREGON TRAIL 
 
 EDITED 
 
 WITH NOTES AND AN INTRODUCTION 
 
 OTTIS B. SPERLIN, Ph.M. 
 
 HE.\D OF THE DEPARTMENT OF ENGLISH IN THE TACOMA HIGH SCHOOL, 
 TACOMA, WASHINGTON 
 
 NEW YORK 
 LONGMANS, GREEN, AND CO. 
 
 LONDON, BOMBAY, AND CALCUTTA 
 
 1910 
 
7^ 
 
 
 Copyright, 1910 
 
 BY 
 
 LONGMANS. GREEN AND CO, 
 
 THE SCIENTIFIC PRESS 
 
 ROBERT DRUMMOND AND COMPANY 
 
 NEW YORK 
 
 CCLA365885 
 
^ 
 
 CONTENTS 
 
 PAGE 
 
 Introduction ix 
 
 Bibliography xvii 
 
 Chronological Table xviii 
 
 THE OREGON TRAIL: 
 
 CHAPTER 
 
 I. The Frontier. . . . '. 5 
 
 II. Breaking the Ice 12 
 
 III. Fort Leavenworth 21 
 
 IV. "Jumping Off" 24 
 
 V. The " Big Blue " 34 
 
 VI. The Platte and the Desert 51 
 
 VII. The Buffalo 63 
 
 VIII. Taking French Leave 78 
 
 IX. Scenes at Fort Laramie 92 
 
 X. The War-parties 103 
 
 XI. Scenes at the Camp 126 
 
 XII. Ill-luck 144 
 
 XIII. Hunting Indians 151 
 
 XIV. The Ogillallah Village 173 
 
 XV. The Hunting Camp 192 
 
 XVI. The Trappers 214 
 
 XVII. The Black Hills 223 
 
 XVIII. A Mountain Hunt 227 
 
 XIX. Passage of the Mountains 238 
 
 XX. The Lonely Journey. 253 
 
 XXI. The Pueblo and Bent's Fort 272 
 
 XXII. Tete Rouge, the Volunteer 279 
 
 XXIII. Indian Alarms 283 
 
 XXIV. The Chase 293 
 
 XXV. The Buffalo-camp 302 
 
 XXVI. Down the Arkansas. 316 
 
 XXVII. The Settlements 332 
 
 Notes 343 
 
 V 
 
'He told the red man's story; far and wide 
 
 He searched the unwritten records of his race; 
 
 He sat a listener at the Sachem's side, 
 
 He tracked the hunter through his wildwood chase. 
 
 'High o'er his head the soaring eagle screamed; 
 
 The wolf's long howl rang nightly; through the vale 
 Tramped the lone bear; the panther's eyeballs gleamed; 
 
 The bison's gallop thundered on the gale." 
 
 — Oliver Wendell Holmes. 
 
 vi 
 
INTRODUCTION 
 
 Sentimental Tommy longed to find "some work 
 into which he could put his heart as if it were a game." 
 Francis Parkman found such work; and he won the 
 game, after what the spectators have aptly termed 
 "a half-century of conflict." 
 
 He was the oldest child of Francis Parkman, a 
 Unitarian minister of Boston. Both father and mother 
 were of Puritan descent. At the age of eight Francis 
 was so delicate in health that his parents sent him 
 to his grandfather's country home near Medford. 
 Here he spent four happy years roaming the wilds 
 of Middlesex Fells, fostering his natural love for the 
 wilderness, and unconsciously determining his future 
 work. 
 
 On returning to his father's home, he attended the 
 Chauncey Hall School, where he was an industrious 
 and appreciative student. His instructor took especial 
 care to teach his pupils to write easy and forcible 
 English and to have them read and memorize a great 
 deal of the best poetry. These exercises Parkman 
 always regarded as important helps in the formation 
 of his literary style. He tried his own hand at verse, 
 rendering the tournament scene from ''Ivanhoe '' to the 
 admiration of all his young friends. The remainder 
 of his time was pretty well taken up with the chemical 
 laborator}^ fitted up in his father's woodshed, and 
 with the management of the "Star Theater," an 
 enterprise flourishing for two years in his father's 
 barn. The boys in the company made their own 
 scenery and costumes, and performed twice each week. 
 Francis usually played women's parts; but sometimes 
 the "Interesting Experiments in Chemistry, by Mr. 
 Parkman" were leading features of the program. 
 
 As many of his ancestors had been graduates and 
 
viii INTRODUCTION 
 
 benefactors of Harvard College, it was natural that 
 Parkman should add his name to the list. Harvard 
 was then a small college, with a course of study some- 
 what in advance of a good present-day high school, 
 and with excellent opportunities for comradeship. 
 Parkman took his part in student affairs, forming 
 many lasting friendships. In history and rhetoric 
 he was a conspicuous student. 
 
 His life purpose shaped itself unusually early. Be- 
 fore the close of his sophomore year he found the work 
 into which he could put his whole heart. His love 
 for literature and the wilderness determined him to 
 write a history of the Old French War — the struggle 
 between English, French, and Indians for possession 
 of the American forest. Henceforth all the events 
 of his life center on this ambition. He read every- 
 thing he could find that bore upon his theme. Among 
 his college friends he earned the distinction of ^^ having 
 Injuns on the brain." 
 
 He desired information first hand. He realized 
 that no history such as he purposed could be written 
 from books alone. He must know the life of hunter 
 and trapper, of Indian and scout. He undertook 
 - with enthusiasm a course in "cramming endurance'' 
 that would fit him for wilderness life. He rode, 
 practiced with rifle and paddle, and wearied even the 
 most athletic companions of his long w^alks. His 
 freshman vacation was spent in a tramping tour 
 through the White Mountains. During- his next 
 vacation he made a more extended trip to the historic 
 Lake George and Lake Champlain, and then to Canada. 
 The diary kept on these trips is delightfully breezy. 
 His observation is keen, his narrative rapid. His 
 youthful exuberance rises joyously above rough 
 w^eather, mosquitoes, and sugarless tea. Next sum- 
 mer he went to Montreal and Quebec, and in the 
 autumn was ph3^sically unable to attend college. 
 He set sail for Europe in search of health. 
 
 He still persisted in his purpose. In Sicily, Naples, 
 and Rome, he studied the Roman CathoHc religion, 
 even going so far as to enter the Passionist Convent 
 
INTRODUCTION ix 
 
 to get information direct. He went northward through 
 Switzerland, France, England, and Scotland. With 
 much reluctance he left Edinburgh for Boston, where 
 he arrived in time to graduate with his class. Imme- 
 diately after commencement followed another 'Afield 
 trip in history." In the autumn, to please his father, 
 he entered Harvard Law School; but he read more 
 literature than law, often burning the candle at both 
 ends over his favorite books, to the great detriment 
 of his eyesight and general health. He secretty pre- 
 pared and sent to the K^iickerhocker Magazine several 
 sketches and one poem, over the name of Captain 
 Johnathan Carver. The misspelling of this-pseudonym 
 convinced the pleased editor that the ^Xaptain" had 
 another name. The following vacation he went west- 
 ward to the historic region about Detroit. When 
 schooltime came he was too ill to attend, and his 
 sisters patiently read aloud to him either from the 
 dull pages of Blackstone, or from some better loved 
 volumes of history and poetr}-. 
 
 Meantime he had decided that his present knowledge 
 of Indians (he had studied only those east of the 
 Mississippi) was insufficient for a thorough interpreta- 
 tion of the aboriginal savages that were to have place 
 in the first volume of his proposed histor}^; he must 
 see the Sioux and the Snakes, those remote wild tribes 
 as yet untouched by civilizing influences. So, in the 
 spring of 1846, when his cousin, Quincy Shaw, sug- 
 gested a trip westward to California, he needed no 
 second invitation. He believed, too, as in under- 
 graduate days (mistakenly, as he knew in later years) , 
 that the hardships of the journe}^ would benefit his 
 health. 
 
 March 28 they left Boston, and after a two weeks' 
 journey by rail and steamboat reached St. Louis. 
 A few days later they started westward on the Oregon 
 Trail trip, of which the present volume is Parkman's 
 own record. The book is a faithful picture of scenes 
 that have passed away forever. It gives, furthermore, 
 a valuable insight into Parkman's thoroughness and 
 self-forgetful zeal in collecting historical material. 
 
X INTRODUCTION 
 
 His health, instead of improving, declined to such an 
 extent that the journey to California had to be aban- 
 doned; nor did he ever recover from the effects of 
 his trip. It was his last time in the wilderness. For 
 nearly fifty years after this he was more or less an 
 invalid. 
 
 When he returned, he at once went to New York 
 and put himself under the care of an eminent oculist. 
 A digestion impaired by months of the diet described 
 in ''The Oregon Trail'' and a baffling disease of nerves 
 and brain complicated matters. But during two years 
 of intense physical suffering he was not idle. His 
 cousin took from dictation the story of their trip. 
 The appearance of the first installment of ''The Oregon 
 Trail" in the Kjiickerhocker Magazine for February, 
 1847, was a surprise even to his sisters. The story 
 continued to appear for almost two years. Then he 
 went to work in earnest on his "Conspiracy of Pontiac,'* 
 writing a very few lines at a time, as he was able. 
 Because of his infirmities, he had had constructed 
 a wire frame, of a size to fit over the sheet of note 
 paper, with wires extending across as guide lines. 
 This "gridiron" was destined to be his lifelong com- 
 panion. 
 
 Better days followed. For some time his health 
 improved, and in 1850 he married Catherine Bigelow. 
 "The enemy," as he always styled his ill-health, 
 soon returned. "Vassal Morton," his only novel, gives 
 an autobiographic glimpse of the sufferings of the 
 next four years. Probably on this account as much as 
 any, he in later years avoided all mention of the book 
 and did not number it among his works. 
 
 The death of his little son in 1857 and of his wife 
 the following year w^ere sorrows that aggravated an 
 illness then at its worst. Fearing for his own reason, 
 he sought the aid of a famous brain specialist of Paris, 
 and learned with equanimity that as long as he lived, 
 any prolonged mental effort would probably result 
 in insanity. How much this meant to a man of his 
 energy and ambition, even his intimate friends could 
 not fully know. 
 
INTRODUCTION XI 
 
 He returned home, settled in a little cottage at 
 Jamaica Plain, near Boston, and took up the business 
 of horticulture. His piles of note-books and documents 
 were not forgotten, but he entered with characteristic 
 energy into the new work. He hired a gardener; but 
 he did as much as he was able himself, with the help 
 of a cane and a wdieel chair. The production of new 
 varieties of roses and lilies became his particular care. 
 Several of the famous kinds which we now know, 
 bear his name. His success in this avocation — 
 the ''Book of Roses," the numerous prizes, and the 
 honor of being elected several years president of the 
 Horticultural Society — is in itself no mean achieve- 
 ment. 
 
 There were times, however, during these years, 
 wdien with the aid of readers and amanuenses he was 
 able to work for brief periods on his histories. When 
 the Civil War broke out he experienced the greatest 
 hardship of his life — the necessity of seeing others 
 fight for the Union while he remained at home. Like 
 Scott, he alw^ays regretted that the hand which held 
 the pen could not have wielded the sword. In 1865 
 he visited the battlefields about Washington and 
 Richmond. That year he pubhshed ''The Pioneers 
 of France in the New World," the first volume of the 
 great historic series upon which his fame rests. The 
 book became at once popular. 
 
 The remainder of his life, overshadowed, it is true, 
 by illness, has for its important events the publication 
 of one after another in the series of histories, the 
 journeys in search of health or for historical materials, 
 and the honors conferred upon him. His fame as 
 the greatest American historian steadily increased. 
 "Montcalm and Wolfe," which he considered his best 
 work, probably received the greatest popular welcome. 
 His last book, "A Half Century of Conflict," as it was 
 entitled at the suggestion of his sister, appeared in 
 1892, and completed his work. The great task of 
 his life had been accomplished. 
 
 Since his last visit to his daughter in Paris, 1887, he 
 had remained quietly at home. He died November 8, 
 
xii INTRODUCTION 
 
 the year following the publication of *'A Half Century 
 of Conflict." His three score years and ten had just 
 been told, when he rested from his labors. 
 
 Parkman, the modest and silent, contradicted with 
 an oath a magazine characterization of himself as 
 "feeble"; and on the occasion of his worst suffering, 
 when the physician tried to encourage him by the 
 assurance that he had a strong comstitution, he 
 answered grimly, "I'm afraid I have." The number- 
 less ills of his life only spurred him on to escape the 
 Btill worse clangers of blindness and insanity. " Park- 
 man's ardor," writes his latest biographer, "hurled 
 him on, obstacles stuck spurs into him, difficulties 
 whipped and stung him; onward he dashed, the hot 
 spirit always bullying the body, and the poor bod}' 
 always paying the scot." His philosophy of life in- 
 cluded war as a leading moral force. Confronted by 
 misfortunes scarcely less than those that harassed 
 Cervantes, he met them with a heroism equal to Sir 
 Walter Scott's. 
 
 As a historian Parkman ranks high — perhaps higher 
 than any other American. John Fiske says of his 
 completed work: "It clearly belongs, I think, among 
 the world's few masterpieces of the highest rank, 
 along with the works of Herodotus, Thucydides, and 
 Gibbon." His histories did not create the popular 
 furor associated with the publication of Macaulay's 
 "History of England"; but over half the list of eight 
 books as they issued from Parkman's pen were popular 
 in the best sense of the word — they were bought 
 eagerly by the best readers, but the sales made no 
 man's fortune. The whole series has become one 
 vast classic; and "Montcalm and Wolfe" gives it a 
 conclusion unexcelled in either romance or history. 
 Nor was this a casual result. In his Preface to " Count 
 Frontenac and New France" Parkman writes: "When 
 at the age of eighteen, I formed the purpose of writing 
 on French-American history, I meant first to limit 
 myself to the great contest which brought that his- 
 tory to a close.'' Like Milton's ''Paradise Lost," 
 
INTRODUCTION Xlil 
 
 '^Montcalm and Wolfe" represents the author's earliest 
 inspiration. 
 
 Good books of ^' The Oregon Trail " species are too few 
 in America. The '' Father of American Literature " did 
 not do his most attractive work in this Hne. '^ Astoria," 
 ''Captain Bonneville," and '^ A Tour of the Prairies" do 
 not measure up to the standard of the- "Sketch Book" 
 and the '' Alhambra." Irving needed the inspiration of 
 a romantic past to bring forth his best work. Besides, 
 the personal element which adds charm to the ''Sketch 
 Book " was lacking in '' Astoria " and '^ Captain Bonne- 
 viUe." Parkman did not experience ''The Oregon 
 Trail" by proxy; he was thoroughly alive to every 
 incident and landscape. We have a similar experi- 
 ence related in Dana's ''Two Years Before the Mast." 
 Both Parkman and Dana traveled under the disad- 
 vantages of ill health and threatening dangers; which, 
 in a literary way, at least, they turned to advantages. 
 Theodore Winthrop, writing on his travels at the other 
 end of the Oregon Trail, represents the well-entertained 
 sightseer instead of the earnest observer, and gives 
 us "Canoe and Saddle," a book of more effervescent 
 vivacity but of less permanent interest. 
 
 "The Oregon Trail " is much more than a narrative; 
 it is a record. It lacks the historic importance of the 
 Journal of the Lewis and Clark expedition; but it 
 makes up for this in part by its interesting realistic 
 pictures of a bygone age; for Parkman not merely 
 took "a journey out of bounds" geographically; he 
 just as surely visited the Germelshausen of the Indian 
 race. As time passes, the story of "The Oregon Trail" 
 will become both more valuable and more wonderful. 
 
 Parkman' s style is noteworthy for its fine descriptive 
 and narrative effects. His description, vivid and 
 varied, and his narrative, rapid and strong, both 
 suggest the figure of the "horse hurrant" in the crest 
 of the Parkman coat-of-arms. The student should 
 select the best examples in "The Oregon Trail" and 
 study them minuteh^ Direct use of Parkman as a 
 
xiv ' INTRODUCTION 
 
 model in descriptive and narrative composition will be 
 beneficial to high-school students of any grade. In 
 thus seeking to improve his style, the student will 
 feel encouraged to know that he is following the same 
 method used by such men as Benjamin Franklin and 
 Robert Louis Stevenson, and by Parkman himself. 
 
BIBLIOGRAPHY 
 
 Parkman is an author worthy of our closest ac- 
 quaintance. The teacher should have access to 
 Sedgwick's Francis Parkmaii in the American Men of 
 Letters series, and to Farnham's Life of Francis Park- 
 man (Little, Brown & Co., 1900). The collection 
 of reprints (31 vols.) under the title Early Western 
 Travels by P. G. Thwaites, contains all the best and 
 rarest volumes of contemporary travel, including 
 Gregg's Commerce of the Prairies and Nuttall's Travels 
 into the Arka7isas Territory. Chittenden's Americari 
 Fur Trade of the Far West, Father de Smet's New 
 Indian Sketches and Harper's Expedition under Lewis 
 and Clark are invaluable to the teacher, each 
 in the special field indicated by the title. Of less 
 importance, but very interesting, are the following: 
 Parrish's The Great Plains (McClurg), Inman's Old 
 Santa Fe Trail (Crane & Co.), Drake's Making of the 
 Great West (Scribners), and Inman and Cody's Great 
 Salt Lake Trail (Crane & Co.). 
 
 The Oregon Trail from an emigrant's point of view 
 is best seen in the first seven chapters of Meeker's 
 Ventures and Adventures (Ezra Meeker, Seattle, 1910) ; 
 and the present condition of the old trail is well 
 described in chapters xxxvii-xlviii of the same volume, 
 under the caption ''The Oregon Trail Monument 
 Expedition." 
 
 The student should read the sketches of the following 
 historians in Leon H. Vincent's American Literary 
 Masters: Irving, Prescott, Bancroft, Motley, and 
 Parkman. In reading Parkman's histories, it will 
 be of some advantage to the student to read the volumes 
 of France and England in North America in historical 
 sequence as follows: 
 
 The Pioneers of France in the New World. 
 
 The Jesuits in North America. 
 
 La Salle and the Discovery of the Great West. 
 
 The Old Regime. 
 
 Count Frontenac and New France. 
 
 A Half-Century of Co7ifiict. 
 
 Montcalm and Wolfe. 
 
 XV 
 
XVI 
 
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THE OREGON TRAIL 
 
 BEING SKETCHES OF PRAIRIE AND ROCKY 
 MOUNTAIN LIFE 
 
 BY 
 FRANCIS PARKMAN 
 
' Let him who crawls enamor'd of decay, 
 Cling to his couch, and sicken years away; 
 Heave his thick breath, and shake liis palsied head ; 
 Ours — the fresh turf, and not the feverish bed." 
 
 Byron. 
 
The journey which the following narrative describes 
 was undertaken on the writer's part with a view 
 of stucljang the manners and character of Indians 
 in their primitive state. Although in the chapters 
 which relate to them, he has only attempted to sketch 
 those features of their wild and picturesque life which 
 fell, in the present instance, under his own eye, yet 
 in doing so he has constantly aimed to leave an im- 
 pression of their character correct as far as it goes. 
 In justifying his claim to accuracy on this point, it 
 is hardly necessary to advert to the representations 
 given by poets . and novelists, which, for the most 
 part, are mere creations of fancy. The Indian is 
 certainly entitled to a high rank among savages, but 
 his good qualities are not those of an Uncas or an 
 Outalissi. 
 
 Boston, February 15, 1849. 
 
THE OREGON TRAIL 
 
 CHAPTER I 
 
 THE FRONTIER 
 
 " Away, away from men and towns 
 To the silent wilderness." — Shelley. 
 
 Last spring, 1846, was a busy season in the city of 
 St. Louis. Not only were emigrants from every part of the 
 country preparing for the journey to Oregon and Califor- 
 nia, but an unusual number of traders were making ready 
 their wagons and outfits for Sante Fe. Many of the emi- 
 grants, especially of those bound for California, were per- 
 sons of wealth and standing. The hotels were crowded, 
 and the gunsmiths and saddlers were kept constantly at 
 work in providing arms and equipments for the different 
 parties of travellers. Almost every da}^ steamboats were 
 leaving the levee and passing up the Missouri, crowded 
 with passengers on their way to the frontier. 
 
 In one of these, the " Radnor,'' since snagged and lost, 
 my friend and relative, Quincy A. Shaw, and myself, left 
 St. Louis on the twenty-eighth of April, on a tour of curi- 
 osity and amusement to the Rocky Mountains. The boat 
 was loaded until the water broke alternately over her 
 guards. Her upper deck was covered with large wagons 
 of a peculiar form, for the Santa Fe trade, and her hold 
 was crammed with goods for the same destination. There 
 were also the equipments and provisions of a party of 
 Oregon emigrants, a band of mules and horses, piles of 
 saddles and harness, and a multitude of nondescript ar- 
 ticles, indispensable on the prairies. Almost hidden in this 
 medley one might have seen a small French cart, of the 
 
6 THE OREGON TRAIL 
 
 sort very appropriately called a " mule-killer " beyond the 
 frontiers, and not far distant a tent, together with a mis- 
 cellaneous assortment of boxes and barrels. The whole 
 equipage was far from prepossessing in its appearance; 
 yet, such as it was, it was destined to a long and arduous 
 journey, on which the persevering reader will accom- 
 pany it. 
 
 The passengers on board the " Radnor " corresponded 
 with her freight. In her cabin were Santa Fe traders, 
 gamblers, speculators, and adventurers of various de- 
 scriptions, and her steerage was crowded with Oregon 
 emigrants, "mountain men,'' negroes, and a party of 
 Kansas Indians, who had been on a visit to St. Louis. 
 
 Thus laden, the boat struggled upward for seven or 
 eight days against the rapid current of the Missouri, grat- 
 ing upon snags, and hanging for two or three hours at 
 a time upon sand-bars. We entered the mouth of the 
 Missouri in a drizzling rain, but the weather soon became 
 clear, and showed distinctly the broad and turbid river, 
 with its eddies, its sand-bars, its ragged islands, and forest- 
 covered shores. The Missouri is constantly changing its 
 course ; wearing away its banks on one side, while it forms 
 new ones on the other. Its channel is shifting continually. 
 Islands are formed, and then washed away; and while the 
 old forests on one side are undermined and swept off, a 
 j^oung growth springs up from the new soil upon the other. 
 With all these changes, the water is so charged with mud 
 and sand that it is perfectly opaque, and in a few minutes 
 deposits a sediment an inch thick in the bottom of a tum- 
 bler. The river was now high ; but when we descended in 
 the autumn it was fallen very low, and all the secrets of 
 its treacherous shallows were exposed to view. It was 
 frightful to see the dead and broken trees, thick-set as a 
 military abattis, firmly imbedded in the sand, and all 
 pointing down stream, ready to impale any unhappy 
 steamboat that at high water should pass over that dan- 
 gerous ground. 
 
 In five or six days we began to see signs of the great 
 western movement that was then taking place. Parties of 
 emigrants, with their tents and wagons, would be en- 
 camped on open spots near the bank, on their way to the 
 
THE FRONTIER 7 
 
 common rendezvous at Independence. On a rain}^ day, 
 near sunset, we reached the landing of this place, which is 
 situated some miles from the river, on the extreme frontier 
 of Missouri. The scene was characteristic, for here were 
 represented at one view the most remarkable features of 
 this wild and enterprising region. On the mudd}^ shore 
 stood some thirt}^ or forty dark slavish-looking Spaniards, 
 gazing stupidly out from beneath their broad hats. They 
 were attached to one of the Santa Fe companies, whose 
 wagons were crowded together on the banks above. In the 
 midst of these, crouching over a smouldering fire, was a 
 group of Indians belonging to a remote Mexican tribe. 
 One or two French hunters from the mountains, Avith their 
 long hair and buckskin dresses, were looking at the boat; 
 and seated on a log close at hand were three men with 
 rifles lying across their knees. The foremost of these, a 
 tall, strong figure, with a clear blue eye and an open, in- 
 telhgent face, might very well represent that race of rest- 
 less and intrepid pioneers whose axes and rifles have 
 opened a path from the Alleghanies to the western 
 prairies. He was on his way to Oregon, probably a more 
 congenial field to him than any that now remained on this 
 side the great plains. 
 
 Early on the next morning we reached Kansas, about 
 five hundred miles from the mouth of the Missouri. Here 
 we landed, and leaving our equipments in charge of my 
 good friend Colonel Chick, whose log-house was the sub- 
 stitute for a tavern, we set out in a wagon for Westport, 
 where we hoped to procure mules and horses for the 
 journey. 
 
 It was a remarkably fresh and beautiful May morning. 
 The rich and luxuriant woods through which the miser- 
 able road conducted us were lighted by the bright sun- 
 shine and enlivened by a multitude of birds. We over- 
 took on the way our late fellow-travellers, the Kansas 
 Indians, who, adorned with all their finery, were proceed- 
 ing homeward at a round pace ; and whatever they might 
 have seemed on board the boat, they made a very strik- 
 ing and picturesque feature in the forest landscape. 
 
 Westport was full of Indians, whose little shaggy ponies 
 were tied by dozens along the houses and fences. Sacs 
 
8 THE OREGON TRAIL 
 
 and Foxes, with shaved heads and painted faces, Sha- 
 wanoes and Delawares, fluttering in caHco frocks and tur- 
 bans, Wyandots dressed hke white men, and a few wretched 
 Kansas wrapped in old blankets, were strolling about the 
 streets or lounging in and out of the shops and houses. 
 
 As I stood at the door of the tavern, I saw a remarkable 
 looking person coming up the street. He had a ruddy 
 face, garnished with the stumps of a bristly red beard 
 and moustache; on one side of his head was a round cap 
 with a knob at the top, such as Scottish laborers some- 
 times wear: his coat was of a nondescript form, and made 
 of a gray Scotch plaid, with the fringes hanging all about 
 it; he wore pantaloons of coarse homespun and hobnailed 
 shoes; and, to complete his equipment, a little black pipe 
 was stuck in one corner of his mouth. In this curious 
 attire, I recognized Captain C. of the British army, who, 
 with his brother and Mr. R., an English gentleman, was 
 bound on a hunting expedition across the continent. I 
 had seen the Captain and his companions at St. Louis. 
 They had now been for some time at Westport, making 
 preparations for their departure, and waiting for a rein- 
 forcement, since they were too few in number to attempt 
 it alone. They might, it is true, have joined some of the 
 parties of emigrants who were on the point of setting out 
 for Oregon and California; but they professed great 
 disinclination to have any connection with the " Kentucky 
 fellows." 
 
 The Captain now urged it upon us that we should join 
 forces and proceed to the mountains in company. Feehng 
 no greater partiality for the society of the emigrants than 
 they did, we thought the arrangement an advantageous 
 one, and consented to it. Our future fellow-travellers 
 had installed themselves in a little log-house, where we 
 found them all surrounded by saddles, harness, guns, 
 pistols, telescopes, knives, and, in short, their complete 
 appointments for the prairie. R., who professed a taste 
 for natural history, sat at a table stuffing a woodpecker; 
 the brother of the Captain, who was an Irishman, was 
 splicing a trail-rope on the floor, as he had been an ama- 
 teur sailor. The Captain pointed out, with much compla- 
 cency, the different articles of their outfit. "You see," 
 
THE FRONTIER 9 
 
 said he, "that we are all old travellers. I am convinced 
 that no party ever went upon the prairie better provided." 
 The hunter whom they had employed, a surly looking 
 Canadian, named Sorel, and their muleteer, an American 
 from St. Louis, were lounging about the building. In a 
 little log-stable close at hand were their horses and mules, 
 selected by the Captain, who was an excellent judge. 
 
 The alliance entered into, we left them to complete 
 their arrangements, while we pushed our own to all con- 
 venient speed. The emigrants for whom our friends 
 professed such contempt, were encamped on the prairie 
 about eight or ten miles distant, to the number of a 
 thousand or more, and new parties were constantly pass- 
 ing out from Independence to join them. They were in 
 great confusion, holding meetings, passing resolutions, 
 and drawing up regulations, but unable to unite in the 
 choice of leaders to conduct them across the prairie. 
 Being at leisure one day, I rode over to Independence. 
 The town was crowded. A multitude of shops had sprung 
 up to furnish the emigrants and Santa Fe traders w^ith 
 necessaries for their journey; and there was an incessant 
 hammering and banging from a dozen blacksmiths' sheds, 
 where the heavy wagons were being repaired, and the 
 horses and oxen shod. The streets were thronged with 
 men, horses, and mules. While I was in the town, a train 
 of emigrant wagons from Illinois passed through, to join 
 the camp on the prairie, and stopped in the principal 
 street. A multitude of healthy children's faces were 
 peeping out from under the covers of the wagons. Here 
 and there a buxom damsel was seated on horseback, 
 holding over her sunburnt face an old umbrella or a 
 parasol, once gaudy enough, but now miserably faded. 
 The men, very sober-looking countrymen, stood about 
 their oxen; and as I passed I noticed three old fellows, 
 who, with their long whips in their hands, were zealously 
 discussing the doctrine of regeneration. The emigrants, 
 however, are not all of this stamp. Among them are some 
 of the vilest outcasts in the country. I have often per- 
 plexed myself to divine the various motives that give 
 impulse to this strange migration; but whatever they 
 may be, whether an insane hope of a better condition in 
 
10 THE OREGON TRAIL 
 
 life, or a desire of shaking off restraints of law and society, 
 or mere restlessness, certain it is that multitudes bitterly 
 repent the journey, and after they have reached the land 
 of promise, are happy enough to escape from it. 
 
 In the course of seven or eight days we had brought 
 our preparations near to a close. Meanwhile our friends 
 had completed theirs, and becoming tired of Westport, 
 they told us that they would set out in advance, and wait 
 at the crossing of the Kansas till we should come up. 
 Accordingly R. and the muleteer went forward with the 
 wagon and tent, while the Captain and his brother, 
 together with Sorel and a trapper named Boisverd, who 
 had joined them, followed with the band of horses. The 
 commencement of the journey was ominous, for the 
 Captain was scarcely a mile from Westport, riding along 
 in state at the head of his party, leading his intended 
 buffalo horse by a rope, when a tremendous thunder- 
 storm came on, and drenched them all to the skin. They 
 hurried on to reach the place about seven miles off, where 
 R. was to have had the camp in readiness to receive them. 
 But this prudent person, when he saw the storm ap- 
 proaching, had selected a sheltered glade in the woods, 
 where he pitched his tent, and was sipping a comfortable 
 cup of coffee while the Captain galloped for miles beyond 
 through the rain to look for him. At length the storm 
 cleared away, and the sharp-eyed trapper succeeded in 
 discovering his tent; R. had by this time finished his 
 coffee, and was seated on a buffalo-robe smoking his pipe. 
 The Captain was one of the most easy-tempered men in 
 existence, so he bore his ill-luck with great composure, 
 shared the dregs of the coffee with his brother, and lay 
 down to sleep in his wet clothes. 
 
 We ourselves had our share of the deluge. We were 
 leading a pair of mules to Kansas when the storm broke. 
 Such sharp and incessant flashes of lightning, such stun- 
 ning and continuous thunder, I had never known before. 
 The woods were completely obscured by the diagonal 
 sheets of rain that fell with a heavy roar, and rose in 
 spray from the ground; and the streams rose so rapidly 
 that we could hardly ford them. At length, looming 
 through the rain, we saw the log-house of Colonel Chick, 
 
THE FRONTIER 11 
 
 who received us with his usual bland hospitality; while 
 his wife^ who, though a little soured and stiffened by too 
 frequent attendance on camp-meetings, was not behind 
 him in hospitable feeling, supplied us with the means of 
 repairing our drenched and bedraggled condition. The 
 storm clearing away at about sunset, opened a noble 
 prospect from the porch of the colonel's house, which 
 stands upon a high hill. The sun streamed from the 
 breaking clouds upon the swift and angry Missouri, and 
 on the immense expanse of luxuriant forest that stretched 
 from its banks back to the distant bluffs. 
 
 Returning on the next day to Westport, we received 
 a message from the Captain, who had ridden back to 
 deliver it in person, but finding that we were in Kansas, 
 had intrusted it with an acquaintance of his named 
 Vogel, who kept a small grocer}^ and liquor shop. Whis- 
 key by the way circulates more freely in Westport than 
 is altogether safe in a place Avhere every man carries a 
 loaded pistol in his pocket. As we passed this establish- 
 ment, we saw Vogel's broad German face and knavish- 
 looking eyes thrust from his door. He said he had some- 
 thing to tell us, and invited us to take a dram. Neither 
 his liquor nor his message was very palatable. The Cap- 
 tain had returned to give us notice that R., who assumed 
 the direction of his party, had determined upon another 
 route from that agreed upon between us; and instead of 
 taking the course of the traders, to pass northward by Fort 
 Leavenworth, and follow the path marked out by the dra- 
 goons in their expedition of last summer. To adopt such 
 a plan without consulting us, we looked upon as a very 
 high-handed proceeding; but, suppressing our dissatisfac- 
 tion as well as we could, we macle up our minds to join 
 them at Fort Leavenworth, where they were to wait for us. 
 
 Accordingly, our preparation being now complete, we 
 attempted one fine morning to commence our journey. 
 The first step was an unfortunate one. No sooner were 
 our animals put in harness than the shaft-mule reared 
 and plunged, burst ropes and straps, and nearly flung the 
 cart into the Missouri. Finding her wholly uncontrollable, 
 we exchanged her for another, with which we were fur- 
 nished by our friend Mr. Boone of Westport, a grandson 
 
12 THE OREGON TRAIL 
 
 of Daniel Boone, the pioneer. This foretaste of prairie 
 experience was very soon followed by another. Westport 
 was scarcely out of sight, when we encountered a deep 
 muddy gully, of a species that afterward became but too 
 famihar to us; and here for the space of an hour or more, 
 the cart stuck fast. 
 
 CHAPTER II 
 
 BREAKING THE ICE 
 
 "Though sluggards deem it but a foolish chase, 
 And marvel men should quit their easy chair, 
 The weary way and long long league to trace; — 
 
 Oh there is sweetness in the prairie air, 
 And life that bloated ease can never hope to share." 
 
 Childe Harold. 
 
 Both Shaw and myself were tolerably inured to the vi- 
 cissitudes of travelling. We had experienced them under 
 various forms, and a birch canoe was as familiar to us as a 
 steamboat. The restlessness, the love of wilds and hatred 
 of cities, natural perhaps in early years to every unper- 
 verted son of Adam, was not our only motive for under- 
 taking the present journey. My companion hoped to 
 shake off the effects of a disorder that had impaired a con- 
 stitution originally hardy and robust; and I was anxious 
 to pursue some inquiries relative to the character and 
 usages of the remote Indian nations, being already familiar 
 with many of the border tribes. 
 
 Emerging from the mucl-hole where we last took leave 
 of the reader, we pursued our way for some time along the 
 narrow track, in the checkered sunshine and shadow of the 
 woods, till at length, issuing forth into the broad light, we 
 left behind us the farthest outskirts of that great forest 
 that once spread unbroken from the western plains to the 
 shore of the Atlantic. Looking over an intervening belt of 
 shrubbery, we saw the green, ocean-like expanse of prairie, 
 stretching swell over swell to the horizon. 
 
 It was a mild, calm spring day; a day when one is more 
 disposed to musing and reverie than to action, and the 
 
BREAKING THE ICE 13 
 
 softest part of his nature is apt to gain the ascendency. I 
 rode in advance of the party as we passed through the 
 shrubbeiy, and as a nook of green grass offered a strong 
 temptation, I dismounted and lay down there. All the 
 trees and saplings were in flower, or budding into fresh 
 leaf; the red clusters of the maple-blossoms and the rich 
 flowers of the Indian apple were there in profusion ; and I 
 was half inclined to regret leaving behind the land of 
 gardens, for the rude and stern scenes of the prairie and the 
 mountains. 
 
 Meanwhile the party came in sight from out of the 
 bushes. Foremost rode Henry Chatillon, our guide and 
 hunter, a fine athletic figure, mounted on a hardy gray 
 Wyandot pony. He wore a white blanket-coat, a broad 
 hat of felt, moccasins, and pantaloons of deer-skin, orna- 
 mented along the seams with rows of long fringes. His 
 knife was stuck in his belt; his bullet-pouch and powder- 
 horn hung at his side, and his rifle lay before him, resting 
 against the high pommel of his saddle, which, like all his 
 equipments, had seen hard service, and was much the 
 worse for wear. Shaw followed close, mounted on a little 
 sorrel horse, and leading a larger animal by a rope. His 
 outfit, which resembled mine, had been provided with a 
 view to use rather than ornament. It consisted of a plain, 
 black Spanish saddle, with holsters of heavy pistols, a 
 blanket rolled up behind it, and the trail-rope attached to 
 his horse's neck hanging coiled in front. He carried a 
 double-barrelled smooth-bore, while I boasted a rifle of 
 some fifteen pounds' weight. At that time our attire, 
 though far from elegant, bore some marks of civilization, 
 and offered a very favorable contrast to the inimitable 
 shabbiness of our appearance on the return journey. A 
 red flannel shirt, belted around the waist like a frock, then 
 constituted our upper garment; moccasins had supplanted 
 our failing boots; and the remaining essential portion of 
 our attire consisted of an extraordinary article, manu- 
 factured by a squaw out of smoked buckskin. Our mule- 
 teer, Delorier, brought up the rear with his cart, wading 
 ankle-deep in the mud, alternately puffing at his pipe, and 
 ejaculating in his prairie patois: "Sacre evj'ant de garce!" 
 as one of the mules would seem to recoil before some abyss 
 
14 THE OREGON TRAIL 
 
 of unusual profundity. The cart was of the kind that one 
 may see by scores around the market-place in Montreal, 
 and had a white covering to protect the articles within. 
 These were our provisions and a tent, with ammunition, 
 blankets, and presents for the Indians. 
 
 We were in all four men with eight animals; for besides 
 the spare horses led by Shaw and myself, an additional 
 mule was driven along with us as a reserve in case of ac- 
 cident. 
 
 After this summing up of our forces, it may not be amiss 
 to glance at the characters of the two men w^ho accom- 
 panied us. 
 
 Delorier was a Canadian, with all the characteristics of 
 the true Jean Baptiste. Neither fatigue, exposure, nor 
 hard labor could ever impair his cheerfulness and gayety, 
 or his obsequious politeness to his bourgeois; and when 
 night came, he would sit down by the fire, smoke his pipe, 
 and tell stories with the utmost contentment. In fact, the 
 prairie was his congenial element. Henry Chatillon was of 
 a different stamp. When we were at St. Louis, several of 
 the gentlemen of the Fur Company had kindly offered tc 
 procure for us a hunter and guide suited for our purposes, 
 and on coming one afternoon to the office, we found there 
 a tall and exceedingly well-dressed man, with a face so 
 open and frank that it attracted our notice at once. We 
 were surprised at being told that it was he who wished to 
 guide us to the mountains. He was born in a little French 
 town near St. Louis, and from the age of fifteen years had 
 been constantly in the neighborhood of the Rocky Moun- 
 tains, employed for the most part by the Company, to 
 supply their forts with buffalo-meat. As a hunter, he had 
 but one rival in the whole region, a man named Cimoneau, 
 with whom, to the honor of both of them, he was on terms 
 of the closest friendship. He had arrived at St. Louis the 
 day before from the mountains, where he had remained 
 for four years; and he now only asked to go and spend a 
 day with his mother, before setting out on another expedi- 
 tion. His age was about thirty; he was six feet high, and 
 very powerfully and gracefully moulded. The prairies 
 had been his school; he could neither read nor write, but 
 he had a natural refinement and delicacy of mind, such as 
 
BREAKING THE ICE 15 
 
 is "^ery rarely found even in women. His manly face was 
 a perfect mirror of uprightness, simplicity, and kindness of 
 iieart; he had, moreover, a keen perception of character, 
 and a tact that would preserve him from flagrant error in 
 any society. Henry had not the restless energ}^ of an 
 Anglo-American. He was content to take things as he 
 found them; and his chief fault arose from an excess of 
 easy generosity, impelling him to give away too profusely 
 ever to thrive in the world. Yet it was commonly re- 
 marked of him, that whatever he might choose to do with 
 what belonged to himself, the property of others was al- 
 ways safe in his hands. His bravery was as much cele- 
 brated in the mountains as his skill in hunting; but it is 
 characteristic of him that in a country where the rifle is 
 the chief arbiter between man and man, Henry was very 
 seldom involved in quarrels. Once or twice, indeed, his 
 quiet good nature had been mistaken and presumed upon, 
 but the consequences of the error were so formidable that 
 no one was ever known to repeat it. No better evidence of 
 the intrepidity of his temper could be wished, than the 
 common report that he had killed more than thirty grizzly 
 bears. He was a proof of what unaided nature will some- 
 times do. I have never, in the city or in the wilderness, 
 met a better man than my noble and true-hearted friend, 
 Henry Chatillon. 
 
 We were soon free of the woods and bushes, and fairly 
 upon the broad prairie. Now and then a Shawanoe passed 
 us, riding his little shaggy pony at a ' lope ' ; his calico shirt, 
 his gaudy sash, and the gay handkerchief bound around 
 his snaky hair, fluttering in the wind. At noon we stopped 
 to rest not far from a little creek, replete with frogs and 
 young turtles. There had been an Indian encampment at 
 the place, and the framework of their lodges still remained, 
 enabling us very easily to gain a shelter from the sun by 
 merely spreading one or two blankets over them. Thus 
 shaded, we sat upon our saddles, and Shaw for the first 
 time lighted his favorite Indian pipe; while Delorier was 
 squatted over a hot bed of coals, shading his eyes with one 
 hand, and holding a little stick in the other with which he 
 regulated the hissing contents of the frying-pan. The 
 horses were turned to feed among the scattered bushes of 
 
16 THE OREGON TRAIL 
 
 a low, oozy meadow. A drowsy spring-like sultriness per- 
 vaded the air, and the voices of ten thousand young frogs 
 and insects, just awakened into life, rose in varied chorus 
 from the creek and the meadows. 
 
 Scarcely were we seated when a visitor approached. 
 This was an old Kansas Indian ; a man of distinction, if one 
 might judge from his dress. His head was shaved and 
 painted red, and from the tuft of hair remaining on the 
 crown dangled several eagle's feathers, and the tails of two 
 or three rattlesnakes. His cheeks, too, were daubed with 
 vermilion; his ears were adorned with green glass pend- 
 ants; a collar of grizzly bears' claws surrounded his neck, 
 and several large necklaces of wampum hung on his breast. 
 Having shaken us by the hand with a cordial grunt of salu- 
 tation, the old man, dropping his red blanket from his 
 shoulders, sat down cross-legged on the ground. In the 
 absence of liquor, we offered him a cup of sweetened water, 
 at which he ejaculated "Good!" and was beginning to tell 
 us how great a man he was, and how many Pawnees he had 
 killed, when suddenly a motley concourse appeared wad- 
 ing across the creek toward us. They filed past in rapid 
 succession, men, women, and children: some were on 
 horseback, some on foot, but all were alike squalid and 
 wretched. Old squaws, mounted astride of shaggy, 
 meagre little ponies, with perhaps one or two snake-eyed 
 children seated behind them, clinging to their tattered 
 blankets; tall lank young men on foot, with bows and 
 arrows in their hands; and girls whose native ugliness not 
 all the charms of glass beads and scarlet cloth could dis- 
 guise, made up the procession; although here and there 
 was a man who, like our visitor, seemed to hold some rank 
 in this respectable community. They were the dregs of 
 the Kansas nation, who, while their betters w^ere gone to 
 hunt the buffalo, had left the village on a begging expedi- 
 tion to Westport. 
 
 When this ragamuffin horde had passed, we caught our 
 horses, saddled, harnessed, and resumed our journey. 
 Fording the creek, the low roofs of a number of rude 
 buildings appeared, rising from a cluster of groves and 
 woods on the left; and riding up through a long lane, amid 
 a profusion of wild roses and early spring flowers, we found 
 
BREAKING THE ICE 17 
 
 the log-church and school-houses belonging to the Meth- 
 odist Shawanoe Mission. The Indians were on the point of 
 gathering to a religious meeting. Some scores of them, 
 tall men in half-civilized dress, were seated on wooden 
 benches under the trees ; while their horses were tied to the 
 sheds and fences. Their chief. Parks,, a remarkably large 
 and athletic man, was just arrived from Westport, where 
 he owns a trading establishment. Besides this, he has a 
 fine farm and a considerable number of slaves. Indeed the 
 Shawanoes have made greater progress in agriculture than 
 any other tribe on the Missouri frontier; and both in ap- 
 pearance and in character form a marked contrast to our 
 late acquaintance, the Kansas. 
 
 A few hours' ride brought us to the banks of the river 
 Kansas. Traversing the woods that lined it, and plough- 
 ing through the deep sand, we encamped not far from the 
 bank, at the Lower Delaware crossing. Our tent was 
 erected for the first time on a meadow close to the woods, 
 and the camp preparations being complete, we began to 
 think of supper. An old Delaware woman, of some three 
 hundred pounds' weight, sat in the porch of a little log- 
 house, close to the water, and a very pretty half-breed girl 
 was engaged, under her superintendence, in feeding a 
 large flock of turkeys that were fluttering and gobbling 
 about the door. But no offers of money, or even of to- 
 bacco, could induce her to part with one of her favorites: 
 so I took my rifle to see if the woods or the river could 
 furnish us anything. A multitude of quails were plain- 
 tively w^histling in the woods and meadows; but nothing 
 appropriate to the rifle was to be seen, except three buz- 
 zards, seated on the spectral limbs of an old dead syca- 
 more, that thrust itself out over the river from the dense 
 sunny wall of fresh foliage. Their ugly heads were drawn 
 down between their shoulders, and they seemed to luxuri- 
 ate in the soft sunshine that was pouring from the west. 
 As they offered no epicurean temptations, I refrained from 
 disturbing their enjoyment; but contented myself with ad- 
 miring the calm beauty of the sunset, for the river, eddy- 
 ing swiftly in deep purple shadows between the impend- 
 ing woods, formed a wild but tranquilizing scene. 
 
 When I returned to the camp, I found Shaw and an old 
 
18 THE OREGON TRAIL 
 
 Indian seated on the ground in close conference, passing 
 the pipe between them. The old man was explaining that 
 he loyed the whites, and had an especial partiality for to- 
 bacco. Delorier was arranging upon the ground our ser- 
 vice of tin cups and plates ; and as other viands were not to 
 be had, he set before us a repast of biscuit and bacon, and 
 a large pot of coffee. Unsheathing our knives, we at- 
 tacked it, disposed of the greater part, and tossed the resi- 
 due to the Indian. Meanwhile our horses, now hobbled 
 for the first time, stood among the trees, w^ith their fore- 
 legs tied together, in great disgust and astonishment. 
 They seemed by no means to relish this foretaste of what 
 was before them. Mine, in particular, had conceived a 
 mortal aversion to the prairie life. One of them, christened 
 Henclrick, an animal whose strength and hardihood were 
 his only merits, and who yielded to nothing but the cogent 
 arguments of the whip, looked toward us with an indig- 
 nant countenance, as if he meditated avenging his wrongs 
 with a kick. The other, Pontiac, a good horse, though of 
 plebeian lineage, stood with his head drooping and his 
 mane hanging about his eyes, w4th the grie^^ed and sulky 
 air of a lubberly boy sent off to school. Poor Pontiac ! his 
 forebodings were but too just; for when I last heard from 
 him he was under the lash of an Ogillallah brave, on a war- 
 party against the Crows. 
 
 As it grew dark, and the voices of the whippoorwills 
 succeeded the whistle of the quails, we removed our 
 saddles to the tent, to serve as pillows, spread our blankets 
 upon the ground, and prepared to bivouac for the first 
 time that season. Each man selected the place in the tent 
 which he was to occupy for the journey. To Delorier, 
 however, was assigned the cart, into which he could creep 
 in wet weather, and find a much better shelter than his 
 bourgeois enjoyed in the tent. 
 
 The river Kansas at this point forms the boundary-line 
 between the country of the ShaAvanoes and that of the 
 Delawares. We crossed it on the following day, rafting 
 over our horses and equipage with much difficulty, and 
 unloading our cart in order to make our way up the steep 
 ascent on the farther bank. It was Sunday morning; 
 warm, tranquil, and bright; and a perfect stillness reigned 
 
BREAKING THE ICE 19 
 
 over the rough inclosures and neglected fields of the Dela- 
 wares, except the ceaseless hum and chirruping of myr- 
 iads of insects. Now and then an Indian rode past on his 
 way to the meeting-house, or, through the dilapidated en- 
 trance of some shattered log-house, an old woman might 
 be discerned enjoying all the luxury of idleness. There 
 was no village bell, for the Delawares have none; and yet 
 upon that forlorn and rude settlement was the same spirit 
 of Sabbath rejDose and tranquillity as in some little New 
 England village among the mountains of New Hampshire 
 or the Vermont woods. 
 
 Having at present no leisure for such reflections, we 
 pursued our journey. A military road led from this point 
 to Fort Leavenworth, and for many miles the farms and 
 cabins or the Delawares were scattered at short intervals 
 on either hand. The little rude structures of logs, erected 
 usually on the borders of a tract of woods, made a pic- 
 turesque feature in the landscape. But the scenery needed 
 no foreign aid. Nature had done enough for it; and the 
 alternation of rich green prairies and groves that stood in 
 clusters, or lined the banks of the numerous little streams, 
 had all the softened and polished beauty of a region that 
 has been for centuries under the hand of man. At that 
 early season, too, it was in the height of its freshness and 
 luxuriance. The woods were flushed with the red buds of 
 the maple ; there were frequent flowering shrubs unknown 
 in the East ; and the green swells of the prairie were thickly 
 studded with blossoms. 
 
 Encamping near a spring, by the side of a hill, we re- 
 sumed our journey in the morning, and early in the after- 
 noon had arrived within a few miles of Fort Leavenworth. 
 The road crossed a stream densely bordered with trees, 
 and running in the bottom of a deep woody hollow. We 
 were about to descend into it when a wild and confused 
 procession appeared, passing through the water below, 
 and coming up the steep ascent toward us. We stopped 
 to let them pass. They were Delawares, just returned 
 from a hunting expedition. All, both men and women, 
 were mounted on horseback, and drove along with them a 
 considerable number of pack-mules, laden with the furs 
 they had taken, together with the buffalo-robes, kettles, 
 
20 THE OREGON TRAIL 
 
 and other articles of their travelling equipment, which, 
 as well as their clothing and their weapons, had a worn 
 and dingy aspect, as if they had seen hard service of late. 
 At the rear of the party was an old man, who, as he came 
 up, stopped his horse to speak to us. He rode a little 
 tough, shaggy pony, with mane and tail well knotted with 
 burs, and a rusty Spanish bit in its mouth, to which, by 
 way of reins, was attached a string of raw hide. His 
 saddle, robbed probably from a Mexican, had no covering, 
 being merely a tree of the Spanish form, with a piece of 
 grizzly-bear's skin laid over it, a pair of rude wooden stir- 
 rups attached, and in the absence of girth, a thong of hide 
 passing around the horse's belly. The rider's dark fea- 
 tures and keen snaky e3^e were unequivocally Indian. He 
 wore a buckskin frock, which, like his fringed leggings, 
 was well polished and blackened by grease and long serv- 
 ice; and an old handkerchief was tied around his head. 
 Resting on the saddle before him, lay his rifle, a weapon in 
 the use of which the Delawares are skilful, though, from its 
 weight, the distant prairie Indians are too lazy to carry it. 
 
 ^' Who's your chief? " he immediately inquired. 
 
 Henry Chatillon pointed to us. The old Delaware fixed 
 his eyes intently upon us for a moment, and then senten- 
 tiously remarked: 
 
 '' No good ! Too young ! " With this flattering comment 
 he left us, and rode after his people. 
 
 This tribe, the Delawares, once the peaceful allies of 
 William Penn, the tributaries of the conquering Iroquois, 
 are now the most adventurous and dreaded warriors upon 
 the prairies. They make war upon remote tribes, the very 
 names of which were unknown to their fathers in their 
 ancient seats in Pennsylvania; and they push these new 
 quarrels with true Indian rancor, sending out their Httle 
 war-parties as far as the Rocky Mountains, and into the 
 Mexican territories. Their neighbors and former confed- 
 erates, the Shawanoes, who are tolerable farmers, are in a 
 prosperous condition; but the Delawares dwindle every 
 year from the number of men lost in their warlike expedi- 
 tions. 
 
 Soon after leaving this party, we saw, stretching on the 
 right, the forests that follow the course of the Missouri, 
 
FORT LEAVENWORTH 21 
 
 and the deep woody channel through which at this point 
 it runs. At a distance in front were the white barracks 
 of Fort Leavenworth, just visible through the trees upon 
 an eminence above a bend of the river. A wide green 
 meadow, as level as a lake, lay between us and the Mis- 
 souri, and upon this, close to a line of trees that bordered a 
 little brook, stood the tent of the Captain and his compan- 
 ions, with their horses feeding around it; but they them- 
 selves were invisible. Wright, their muleteer, was there, 
 seated on the tongue of the wagon, repairing his harness. 
 Boisverd stood cleaning his rifle at the door of the tent, 
 and Sorel lounged idly about. On closer examination, 
 however, we discovered the Captain's brother, Jack, sit- 
 ting in the tent, at his old occupation of splicing trail- 
 ropes. He welcomed us in his broad Irish brogue, and 
 and said that his brother was fishing in the river, and R. 
 gone to the garrison. They returned before sunset. Mean- 
 while we erected our own tent not far off, and after sup- 
 per a council was held, in which it was resolved to remain 
 one day at Fort Leavenworth, and on the next to bid a 
 final adieu to the frontier; or in the phraseology of the 
 region, to "jump off." Our deliberations were conducted 
 by the ruddy light from a distant swell of the prairie, 
 where the long dry grass of last summer was on fire. 
 
 CHAPTER III 
 
 FORT LEAVENW^ORTH 
 
 "I've wandered wide and wandered far, 
 But never have I met, 
 In all this lovely western land, 
 
 A spot more lovely yet." — Bryant. 
 
 On the next morning we rode to Fort Leavenworth. 
 'Colonel (now General) Kearney, to whom I had had the 
 honor of an introduction when at St. Louis, was just ar- 
 rived, and received us at his quarters with the high-bred 
 courtesy habitual to him. Fort Leavenworth is, in fact, 
 no fort, being without defensive works, except two block- 
 liouses. No rumor's of war had as yet disturbed its tran- 
 
22 THE OREGON TRAIL 
 
 quillity. In the square grassy area, surrounded by bar- 
 racks and the quarters of the Officers the men were passhig 
 and repassmg, or lounging among the trees; although not 
 many weeks afterward it presented a different scene; for 
 here the very offscourings of the frontier were congregated, 
 to be marshalled for the expedition against Santa Fe. 
 
 Passing through the garrison, we rode toward the Kicka- 
 poo village, five or six miles beyond. The path, a rather 
 dubious and uncertain one, led us along the ridge of high 
 bluffs that border the Missouri; and by looking to the 
 right or to the left we could enj oy a strange contrast of op- 
 posite scenery. On the left stretched the prairie, rising 
 into swells and undulations, thickly sprinkled with groves, 
 or gracefully expanding into wide grassy basins of miles in 
 extent; while its curvatures, swelling against the horizon, 
 were often surmounted by lines of sunny woods; a scene 
 to which the freshness of the season and the peculiar mel- 
 lowness of the atmosphere gave additional softness. Be- 
 low us, on the right, was a tract of ragged and broken 
 woods. We could look down on the summits of the trees, 
 some living and some dead; some erect, others leaning at 
 every angle, and others still piled in masses together by 
 the passage of a hurricane. Beyond their extreme verge, 
 the turbid waters of the Missouri were discernible through 
 the boughs, rolling powerfully along at the foot of the 
 woody declivities on its farther bank. 
 
 The path soon after led inland; and as we crossed an 
 open meadow we saw a cluster of buildings on a rising 
 ground before us, with a crowd of people surrounding 
 them. They were the storehouse, cottage, and stables of 
 the Kickapoo trader's establishment. Just at that mo- 
 ment, as it chanced, he was beset with half the Indians of 
 the settlement. They had tied their wretched, neglected 
 little ponies by dozens along the fences and out-houses, 
 and were either lounging about the place or crowding into 
 the trading-house. Here w^ere faces of various colors: red, 
 green, white, and black, curiously intermingled and dis- 
 posed over the visage in a variety of patterns. Calico 
 shirts, red and blue blankets, brass ear-rings, wampum 
 necklaces, appeared in profusion. The trader was a blue- 
 eyed, open-faced man, who neither in his manners nor his 
 
FORT LEAVENWORTH 23 
 
 appearance betrayed any of the roughness of the fron- 
 tier; though just at present he was obHged to keep a lynx 
 eye on his suspicious customers, who, men and women, 
 were cHmbing on his counter and seating themselves 
 among his boxes and bales. 
 
 The village itself was not far off, and sufficiently illus- 
 trated the condition of its unfortunate and self-abandoned 
 occupants. Fancy to yourself a little swift stream, work- 
 ing its devious way down a woody valley; sometimes 
 wholly hidden under logs and fallen trees, sometimes issu- 
 ing forth and spreading into a broad, clear pool; and on its 
 banks, in little nooks cleared away among the trees, minia- 
 ture log-houses in utter ruin and neglect. A labyrinth of 
 narrow, obstructed paths connected these habitations one 
 with another. Sometimes we met a stray calf, a pig, or a 
 pony, belonging to some of the villagers, who usually lay 
 in the sun in front of their dwellings and looked on us with 
 cold, suspicious eyes as we approached. Farther on, in 
 place of the log-huts of the Kickapoos, we found the pukwi 
 lodges of their neighbors, the Pottawattamies, whose con- 
 dition seemed no better than theirs. 
 
 Growing tired at last, and exhausted by the excessive 
 heat and sultriness of the day, we returned to our friend, 
 the trader. By this time the crowd around him had dis- 
 persed and left him at leisure. He invited us to his cot- 
 tage, a little white-and-green building, in the style of the 
 old French settlements; and ushered us into a neat, well- 
 furnished room. The blinds were closed, and the heat and 
 glare of the sun excluded : the room was as cool as a cavern. 
 It was neatly carpeted, too, and furnished in a manner 
 that we hardly expected on the frontier. The sofas, 
 chairs, tables, and a well-filled book-case would not have 
 disgraced an eastern city; though there were one or two 
 little tokens that indicated the rather questionable civili- 
 zation of the region. A pistol, loaded and capped, lay on 
 the mantel-piece; and through the glass of the book-case, 
 peeping above the works of John Milton, glittered the 
 handle of a very mischievous-looking knife. 
 
 Our host went out, and returned with iced water, 
 glasses, and a bottle of excellent claret; a refreshment 
 most welcome in the extreme heat of the day; and soon 
 
24 THE OREGON TRAIL 
 
 after appeared a merry, laughing woman, who must have 
 been, a year or two before, a very rich and luxuriant speci- 
 men of Creole beauty. She came to say that lunch was 
 ready in the next room. Our hostess evidently lived on 
 the sunny side of life, and troubled herself with none of its 
 cares. She sat down and entertained us while we were at 
 table with anecdotes of fishing-parties, frolics, and the offi- 
 cers at the fort. Taking leave at length of the hospitable 
 trader and his friend, we rode back to the garrison. 
 
 Shaw passed on to the camp, while I remained to call 
 upon Colonel Kearney. I found him still at table. There 
 sat our friend the Captain, in the same remarkable habih- 
 ments in which we saw him at Westport; the black pipe, 
 however, being for the present laid aside. He dangled his 
 little cap in his hand, and talked of steeple-chases, touch- 
 ing occasionally upon his anticipated exploits in buffalo- 
 hunting. There, too, was R., somewhat more elegantly 
 attired. For the last time we tasted the luxuries of civili- 
 zation, and drank adieus to it in wine good enough to make 
 us almost regret the leave-taking. Then, mounting, we 
 rode together to the camp, where everything was in readi- 
 ness for departure on the morrow. 
 
 CHAPTER IV 
 
 "jumping off" 
 
 "We forded the river and clomb the high hill, 
 Never our steeds for a day stood still; 
 Whether we lay in the cave or the shed, 
 Our sleep fell soft on the hardest bed; 
 Whether we couched in our rough capote, 
 On the rougher plank of our gliding boat, 
 Or stretched on the sand, or our saddles spread 
 As a pillow beneath the resting head, 
 
 Fresh we woke upon the morrow; 
 All our thoughts and words had scope, 
 We had health and we had hope, 
 
 Toil and travel, but no sorrow." 
 
 Siege of Corinth. 
 
 The reader need not be told that John Bull never leaves 
 home without encumbering himself with the greatest pos- 
 sible load of luggage. Our companions were no exception. 
 
''JUMPING OFF' 25 
 
 to the rule. They had a wagon drawn by six mules, and 
 crammed with provisions for six months, besides ammu- 
 nition enough for a regiment; spare rifles and fowling- 
 pieces, ropes and harness; personal baggage, and a mis- 
 cellaneous assortment of articles, which produced infinite 
 embarrassment on the journey. They had also decorated 
 their persons w^ith telescopes and portable compasses, and 
 carried English double-barrelled rifles of sixteen to the 
 pound calibre, slung to their saddles dragoon fashion. 
 
 By sunrise on the twenty-third of May we had break- 
 fasted; the tents were levelled, the animals saddled and 
 harnessed, and all was prepared. ^' Avance done! get up!" 
 cried Delorier from his seat in front of the cart. Wright, 
 our friends' muleteer, after some swearing and lashing, got 
 his insubordinate train in motion, and then the whole 
 party filed from the ground. Thus we bade a long adieu to 
 bed and board, and the principles of Blackstone's Com- 
 mentaries. The day was a most auspicious one; and yet 
 Shaw and I felt certain misgivings, which in the sequel 
 proved but too well founded. We had just learned that 
 though R. had taken it upon him to adopt this course 
 without consulting us, not a single man in the party was 
 acquainted with it; and the absurdity of our friend's high- 
 handed measure very soon became manifest. His plan was 
 to strike the trail of several companies of dragoons, who 
 last summer had made an expedition under Colonel 
 Kearney to Fort Laramie, and by this means to reach the 
 grand trail of the Oregon emigrants up the Platte. 
 
 We rode for an hour or two, when a familiar cluster of 
 buildings appeared on a little hill. " Halloo ! " shouted the 
 Kickapoo trader from over his fence, "where are you go- 
 ing?" A few rather emphatic exclamations might have 
 been heard among us when we found that we had gone 
 miles out of our way, and were not advanced an inch to- 
 ward the Rocky Mountains. So we turned in the direction 
 the trader indicated; and, with the sun for a guide, began 
 to trace a "bee-line" across the prairies. We struggled 
 through copses and lines of wood; we waded brooks and 
 pools of water; we traversed prairies as green as an emer- 
 ald, expanding before us for mile after mile ; wider and more 
 wild than the wastes Mazeppa rode over : 
 
26 THE OREGON TRAIL 
 
 "Man nor brute, 
 Nor dint of hoof, nor print of foot, 
 Lay in the wild luxuriant soil; 
 No sign of travel; none of toil; 
 The very air was mute." 
 
 Riding in advance, as we passed over one of these great 
 'plains, we looked back and saw the hne of scattered horse- 
 men stretching for a mile or more; and far in the rear, 
 against the horizon, the white wagons creeping slowly 
 along. " Here we are at last ! " shouted the Captain. And 
 in truth we had struck upon the traces of a large body of 
 horse. We turned joyfully and followed this new course, 
 with tempers somewhat improved; and toward sunset en- 
 camped on a high swell of the prairie, at the foot of which 
 a lazy stream soaked along through clumps of rank grass. 
 It was getting dark. We turned the horses loose to feed. 
 "Drive down the tent-pickets hard," said Henry Chatil- 
 lon, " it is going to blow.'' W^e did so, and secured the tent 
 as well as we could ; for the sky had changed totally, and 
 a fresh damp smell in the wind warned us that a stormy 
 night was likely to succeed the hot clear day. The prairie 
 also wore a new aspect, and its vast swells had grown 
 black and sombre under the shadow of the clouds. The^ 
 thunder soon began to growl at a distance. Picketing and 
 hobbling the horses among the rich grass at the foot of the 
 slope where we encamped, we gained a shelter just as the 
 rain began to fall; and sat at the opening of the tent, 
 watching the proceedings of the Captain. In defiance of 
 the rain, he was stalking among the horses, wrapped in an 
 old Scotch plaid. An extreme solicitude tormented him, 
 lest some of his favorites should escape or some accident 
 should befall them; and he cast an anxious eye toward 
 three wolves who were sneaking along over the dreary sur- 
 face of the plain, as if he dreaded some hostile demonstra- 
 tion on their part. 
 
 On the next morning we had gone but a mile or two 
 when we came to an extensive belt of woods, through the 
 midst of which ran a stream, wide, deep, and of an ap- 
 pearance particularly muddy and treacherous. Delorier 
 was in advance with his cart; he jerked his pipe from his 
 mouth, lashed his mules, and poured forth a volley of 
 
''JUMPING OFF" 27 
 
 Canadian ejaculations. In plunged the cart, but midway 
 it stuck fast. Delorier leaped out knee-deep in water, and 
 by dint of sacres and a vigorous application of the whip, 
 he urged the mules out of the slough. Then approached 
 the long team and heavy wagon of our friends; but it 
 paused on the brink. 
 
 '' Now my advice is — " began the Captain, who had been 
 anxiously contemplating the muddy gulf. 
 
 "Drive on!'' cried R. 
 
 But Wright, the muleteer, apparently had not as yet 
 decided the point in his own mind; and he sat still in his 
 seat on one of the shaft-mules, whistling in a low contem- 
 plative strain to himself. 
 
 "My advice is,'' resumed the Captain, "that we un- 
 load ; for I'll bet any man five pounds that if we try to go 
 through we shall stick fast." 
 
 " By the powers, we shall stick fast ! " echoed Jack, the 
 Captain's brother, shaking his large head with an air of 
 firm conviction. 
 
 "Drive on! drive on!" cried R., petulantly. 
 
 "Well," observed the Captain, turning to us as we sat 
 looking on, much edified by this by-play among our con- 
 federates, " I can only give my advice, and if people won't 
 be reasonable, why they won't, that's all!" 
 
 Meanwhile, Wright had apparently made up his mind; 
 for he suddenly began to shout forth a volley of oaths and 
 curses that, compared with the French imprecations of 
 Delorier, sounded like the roaring of heavy cannon after 
 the popping and sputtering of a bunch of Chinese crackers. 
 At the same time he discharged a shower of blows upon his 
 mules, who hastily dived into the mud and drew the wagon 
 lumbering after them. For a moment the issue was dubi- 
 ous. Wright writhed about in his saddle and swore and 
 lashed like a madman; but who can count on a team of 
 half-broken mules? At the most critical point, when all 
 should have been harmony and combined effort, the per- 
 verse brutes fell into lamentable disorder, and huddled 
 together in confusion on the farther bank. There was the 
 wagon up to the hub in mud and visibly settling every in- 
 stant. There was nothing for it but to unload ; then to dig 
 away the mud from before the wheels with a spade, and 
 
28 THE OREGON TRAIL 
 
 lay a causeway of bushes and branches. This agreeable 
 labor accomplished, the wagon at length emerged; but if 
 I mention that some interruption of this sort occurred at 
 least four or five times a day for a fortnight, the reader 
 will understand that our progress toward the Platte was 
 not without its obstacles. 
 
 We travelled six or seven miles farther, and " nooned " 
 near a brook. On the point of resuming our journey, when 
 the horses were all driven down to water, my homesick 
 charger Pontiac made a sudden leap across, and set off at 
 a round trot for the settlements. I mounted my remain- 
 ing horse, and started in pursuit. Making a circuit, I 
 headed the runaway, hoping to drive him back to camp; 
 but he instantly broke into a gallop, made a wide tour on 
 the prairie, and got past me again. I tried this plan re- 
 peatly, with the same result: Pontiac was evidently dis- 
 gusted with the prairie; so I abandoned it, and tried an- 
 other, trotting along gently behind him, in hopes that I 
 might quietly get near enough to seize the trail-rope which 
 was fastened to his neck, and dragged about a dozen feet 
 behind him. The chase grew interesting. For mile after 
 mile I followed the rascal, with the utmost care not to 
 alarm him, and gradually got nearer, until at length old 
 Hendrick's nose was fairly brushed by the whisking tail of 
 the unsuspecting Pontiac. Without drawing rein I slid 
 softly to the ground ; but my long heavy rifle encumbered 
 me, and the low sound it made in striking the horn of the 
 saddle startled him ; he pricked up his ears, and sprang off 
 at a run. "My friend,'' thought I, remounting, "do that 
 again, and I will shoot you ! " 
 
 Fort Leavenworth was about forty miles distant, and 
 thither I determined to follow him. I made up my mind to 
 spend a solitary and supperless night, and then set out 
 again in the morning. One hope, however, remained. 
 The creek where the wagon had stuck was just before us; 
 Pontiac might be thirsty with his run, and stop there to 
 drink. I kept as near to him as possible, taking every pre- 
 caution not to alarm him again; and the result proved as 
 I had hoped ; for he walked dehberately among the trees^ 
 and stooped down to the water. I alighted, dragged old 
 Hendrick through the mud, and with a feeling of infinite 
 
''JUMPING OFF" 2^ 
 
 satisfaction picked up the slimy trail-rope, and twisted it 
 three times round my hand. "Now let me see you get 
 away again!" I thought, as I remounted. But Pontiac 
 was exceedingly reluctant to turn back; Hendrick, too, 
 who had evidently flattered himself with vain hopes, 
 showed the utmost repugnance, and grumbled in a manner 
 peculiar to himself at being compelled to face about. A 
 smart cut of the whip restored his cheerfulness; and drag- 
 ging the recovered truant behind, I set out in search of the 
 camp. An hour or two elasped, when, near sunset, I saw 
 the tents, standing on a rich swell of the prairie, beyond a 
 line of woods, while the bands of horses were feeding in a 
 low meadow close at hand. There sat Jack C, cross- 
 legged, in the sun, splicing a trail-rope, and the rest were 
 lying on the grass, smoking and telling stories. That night 
 we enjoyed a serenade from the Avolves, more lively than 
 any with which they had yet favored us ; and in the morn- 
 ing one of the musicians appeared, not many rods from the 
 tents, quietly seated among the horses, looking at us with 
 a pair of large gray eyes; but perceiving a rifle levelled at 
 him, he leaped up ancl made off in hot haste. 
 
 I pass by the following day or two of our journe}", for 
 nothing occurred worthy of record. Should any one of 
 my readers ever be impelled to visit the prairies, and 
 should he choose the route of the Platte (the best, per- 
 haps, that can be adopted), I can assure him that he need 
 not think to enter at once upon the paradise of his imagi- 
 nation. A dreary preliminary, protracted crossing of the 
 threshold awaits him before he finds himself fairly upon 
 the verge of the "Great American Desert"; those barren 
 wastes, the haunts of the buffalo ancl the Indian, wdiere 
 the very shadow of civilization lies a hundred leagues be- 
 hind him. The intervening country, the wide and fertile 
 belt that extends for several hundred miles beyond the ex- 
 treme frontier, will probably answer tolerably well to his 
 preconceived ideas of the prairie; for this it is from which 
 picturesque tourists, painters, poets and novelists, who 
 have seldom penetrated farther, have derived their con- 
 ceptions of the whole region. If he has a painter's eye, 
 he may find his period of probation not wholly void of in- 
 terest. The scenery, though tame, is graceful and pleas- 
 
30 THE OREGON TRAIL 
 
 ing. Here are level plains too wide for the eye to measure ; 
 green undulations like motionless swells of the ocean; 
 abundance of streams, followed through all their windings 
 by lines of woods and scattered groves. But let him be as 
 enthusiastic as he may, he will find enough to damp his 
 ardor. His wagons will stick in the mud; his horses will 
 break loose; harness will give way, and axle-trees prove 
 unsound. His bed will be a soft one, consisting often of 
 black mud of the richest consistency. As for food, he 
 must content himself with biscuit and salt provisions; for, 
 strange as it may seem, this tract of country produces very 
 little game. As he advances, indeed, he will see, moulder- 
 ing in the grass by his path, the vast antlers of the elk, and 
 farther on, the whitened skulls of the buffalo, once swarming 
 over this now deserted region. Perhaps, like us, he may 
 journey for a fortnight, and see not so much as the hoof-print 
 of a deer; in the spring not even a prairie-hen is to be had. 
 
 Yet, to compensate him for this unlooked-for deficiency 
 of game, he will find himself beset with "varmints" in- 
 numerable. The wolves will entertain him with a con- 
 certo at night, and skulk around him by day just beyond 
 rifle-shot ; his horse will step into badger-holes ; from every 
 marsh and mud-puddle will arise the bellowing, croaking, 
 and trilling of legions of frogs, infinitely various in color, 
 shape, and dimensions. A profusion of snakes will gfide 
 away from under his horse's feet, or quietly visit him in 
 his tent at night; while the pertinacious humming of un- 
 numbered mosquitoes will banish sleep from his eyelids. 
 When thirsty with a long ride in the scorching sun over 
 some boundless reach of prairie, he comes at length to a 
 pool of water, and alights to drink, he discovers a troop of 
 young tadpoles sporting in the bottom of his cup. Add to 
 this, that all the morning the sun beats upon him with a 
 sultry, penetrating heat, and that, with provoking regu- 
 larity, at about four o'clock in the afternoon, a thunder- 
 storm rises and drenches him to the skin. Such being the 
 charms of this favored region, the reader will easily con- 
 ceive the extent of our gratification at learning that for a 
 week we had been journeying on the wrong track! How 
 this agreeable discovery was made I will presently explain. 
 
 One day, after a protracted morning's ride, we stopped 
 
''JUMPING OFF" 31 
 
 to rest at noon upon the open prairie. No trees were in 
 sight; but close at hand a httle dribbhng brook was twist- 
 ing from side to side through a hollow; now forming holes 
 of stagnant water, and now gliding over the mud in a 
 scarcely perceptible current, among a growth of sickly 
 bushes and great clumps of tall rank grass. The day was. 
 excessively hot and oppressive. The horses and mules 
 were rolling on the prairie to refresh themselves, or feeding 
 among the bushes in the hollow. We had dined; and De- 
 lorier, puffing at his pipe, knelt on the grass, scrubbing 
 our service of tin-plate. Shaw lay in the shade, under the 
 cart, to rest for awhile, before the word should be given to 
 "catch up." Henry Chatillon, before lying down, was 
 looking about for signs of snakes, the only living things 
 that he feared, and uttering various ejaculations of dis- 
 gust, at finding several suspicious-looking holes close to the 
 cart, I sat leaning against the wheel in a scanty strip of 
 shade, making a pair of hobbles to replace those which my 
 contumacious steed Pontiac had broken the night before. 
 The camp of our friends, a rod or two distant, presented 
 the same scene of lazy tranquillity. 
 
 " Halloo ! " cried Henry, looking up from his inspection 
 of the snake-holes, " here comes the old Captain ! " 
 
 The Captain approached, and stood for a moment con- 
 templating us in silence. 
 
 "I sa}^, Parkman," he began, "look at Shaw there, 
 asleep under the cart, with the tar dripping off the hub of 
 the wheel on his shoulder!" 
 
 At this Shaw got up, with his eyes half opened, and 
 feeling the part indicated, he found his hand glued fast to 
 his red flannel shirt. 
 
 " He'fi look well, when he gets among the squaws, won't 
 he ! " observed the Captain, with a grin. 
 
 He then crawled under the cart, and began to tell 
 wStories, of which his stock was inexhaustible. Yet every 
 moment he would glance nervously at the horses. At last 
 he jumped up in great excitement. "See that horse! 
 There — that fellow just walking over the hill! By Jove! 
 he's off. It's your big horse, Shaw; no it isn't, it's Jack's. 
 Jack! Jack! halloo. Jack!" Jack, thus invoked, jumped 
 up and stared vacantly at us. 
 
32 THE OREGON TRAIL 
 
 "Go and catch your horse, if you don't want to lose 
 him!" roared the Captain. 
 
 Jack instantly set off at a run, through the grass, his 
 broad pantaloons flapping about his feet. The Captain 
 gazed anxiously till he saw that the horse was caught; 
 then he sat down, with a countenance of thoughtfulness 
 and care. 
 
 " I tell you what it is,'' he said, " this will never do at all. 
 We shall lose every horse in the band some day or other, 
 and then a pretty plight we should be in ! Xow I am con- 
 vinced that the only way for us is to have every man in 
 the camp stand horse-guard in rotation whenever we stop. 
 Supposing a hundred Pawnees should jump up out of that 
 ravine, all yelling and flapping their buffalo-robes, in the 
 way they do? AVhy, in two minutes not a hoof would be 
 in sight." We reminded the Captain that a hundred Paw- 
 nees would probably demolish the horse-guard if he were 
 to resist their depredations. 
 
 "At any rate," pursued the Captain, evading the point, 
 '^our w^hole system is wrong; I'm convinced of it; it is 
 totally unmilitary. Why, the way we travel, strung out 
 over the prairie for a mile, an enemy might attack the 
 foremost men and cut them off before the rest could come 
 up." 
 
 "We are not in an enemy's country yet," said Shaw; 
 ^'when we are, we'll travel together." 
 
 "Then," said the Captain, "we might be attacked in 
 €amp. We've no sentinels; we camp in disorder; no pre- 
 cautions at all to guard against surprise. My own con- 
 victions are that we ought to camp in a hollow-square, 
 with the fires in the centre ; and have sentinels and a regu- 
 lar password appointed for every night. Beside, there 
 should be videttes, riding in advance, to find a place for 
 the camp and give warning. of an enemy. These are my 
 convictions. I don't want to dictate to any man. I give 
 advice to the best of my judgment, that's all; and then 
 let people do as they please." 
 
 We intimated that perhaps it would be as well to post- 
 pone such burdensome precautions until there should be 
 some actual need of them; but he shook his head dubi- 
 ously. The Captain's sense of military propriety had been 
 
''JUMPING OFF'' 33 
 
 severely shocked by what he considered the irregular pro- 
 ceedings of the party; and this was not the first time he had 
 expressed himself upon the subject. But his convictions 
 seldom produced any practical results. In the present 
 case he contented himself, as usual, with enlarging on the 
 importance of his suggestions, and wondering that they 
 were not adopted. But his plan of sending out videttes 
 seemed particularly dear to him; and as no one else was 
 disposed to second his views on this point, he took it into 
 his head to ride forward that afternoon himself. 
 
 "Come, Parkman/' said he, "will you go with me?" 
 
 We set out together, and rode a mile or two in advance. 
 The Captain, in the course of twenty years' service in the 
 British army, had seen something of life; one extensive 
 side of it, at least, he had enjoyed the best opportunities 
 for studying; and being naturally a pleasant fellow, he was 
 a very entertaining companion. He cracked jokes and 
 told stories for an hour or two; until, looking back, we saw 
 the prairie behind us stretching away to the horizon with- 
 out a horseman or a wagon in sight. 
 
 "Now," said the Captain, "I think the videttes had 
 better stop till the main body comes up." 
 
 I was of the same opinion. There was a thick growth of 
 woods just before us, with a stream running through them. 
 Having crossed this, we found on the other side a fine 
 level meadow, half encircled by the trees; and fastening 
 our horses to some bushes, we sat clown on the grass ; while, 
 with an old stump of a tree for a target, I began to display 
 the superiority of the renowned rifle of the backwoods over 
 the foreign innovation borne by the Captain. At length 
 voices could be heard in the distance behind the trees. 
 
 "There the}^ come!" said the Captain; "let's go and see 
 how they get through the creek." 
 
 We mounted and rode to the bank of the stream where 
 the trail crossed it. It ran in a deep hollow, full of trees: 
 as we looked down we saw a confused crowd of horsemen 
 riding through the water; and among the dingy habili- 
 ments of our party, glittered the uniforms of four dra- 
 goons. 
 
 Shaw came whipping his horse up the bank, in advance 
 of the rest, with a somewhat indignant countenance. The 
 
34 THE OREGON TRAIL 
 
 first word he spoke was a blessing fervently invoked on the 
 head of R., who was riding, with a crest-fallen air, in the 
 rear. Thanks to the ingenious devices of this gentleman, 
 we had missed the track entirely, and wandered, not to- 
 ward the Platte, but to the village of the Iowa Indians. 
 This we learned from the dragoons, who had lately de- 
 serted from Fort Leavenworth. They told us that our 
 best plan now was to keep to the northward until we 
 should strike the trail formed by several parties of Oregon 
 emigrants, who had that season set out from St. Joseph's 
 in Missouri. 
 
 In extremely bad temper we encamped on this ill- 
 starred spot; while the deserters, whose case admitted of 
 no delay, rode rapidly forward. On the day following, 
 striking the St. Joseph's trail, we turned our horses' heads 
 toward Fort Laramie, then about seven hundred miles to 
 the westward. 
 
 CHAPTER V 
 
 THE ^^BIG blue" 
 
 A man so various, that he seemed to be 
 Not one, but all mankind's epitome, 
 Stiff in opinions, always in the wrong, 
 Was everything by starts, and nothing long, 
 But in the space of one revolving moon, 
 Was gamester, chemist, fiddler, and buffoon. 
 
 Drydex. 
 
 The great medley of Oregon and California emigrants, 
 at their camps around Independence, had heard reports 
 that several additional parties were on the jDoint of set- 
 ting out from St. Joseph's, farther to the northward. The 
 prevailing impression was, that these were Mormons, 
 twenty-three hundred in number, and a great alarm was 
 excited in consequence. The people of Illinois and 
 Missouri, who composed by far the greater part of the 
 emigrants, have never been on the best terms with the 
 " Latter Day Saints " ; and it is notorious throughout the 
 country how much blood has been spilt in their feuds, even 
 far within the limits of the settlements. No one could 
 
THE ''BIG BLUE" 35 
 
 predict what would be the result when large armed bodies 
 of these fanatics should encounter the most impetuous 
 and reckless of their old enemies on the broad prairie, far 
 beyond the reach of law or military force. The women 
 and children at Independence raised a great outcry; the 
 men themselves were seriously alarmed ; and, as I learned, 
 they sent to Colonel Kearney, requesting an escort of dra- 
 goons as far as the Platte. This was refused; and as the 
 sequel proved, there was no occasion for it. The St. Jo- 
 seph's emigrants were as good Christians and as zealous 
 Mormon-haters as the rest; and the very few famihes of 
 the "Saints" who passed out this season by the route of 
 the Platte remained behind until the great tide of emigra- 
 tion had gone by; standing in quite as much awe of the 
 '^ gentiles " as the latter did of them. 
 
 We were now, as I before mentioned, upon this St. Jo- 
 seph's trail. It was evident, by the traces, that large par- 
 ties were a few days in advance of us; and as we too sup- 
 posed them to be Mormons, we had some apprehension of 
 interruption. 
 
 The journey was somewhat monotonous. One day we 
 rode on for hours without seeing a tree or a bush: before, 
 behind, and on either side stretched the vast expanse, roll- 
 ing in a succession of graceful swells, covered with the un- 
 broken carpet of fresh green grass. Here and there a crow, 
 or a raven, or a turkey-buzzard relieved the uniformity. 
 
 "What shall we do to-night for wood and water?" we 
 began to ask of each other ; for the sun was within an hour 
 of setting. At length a dark green speck appeared, far off 
 on the right; it was the top of a tree, peering over a swell 
 of the prairie; and leaving the trail, we made all haste to- 
 ward it. It proved to be the vanguard of a cluster of 
 bushes and low trees, that surrounded some pools of water 
 in an extensive hollow; so we encamped on the rising 
 ground near it. 
 
 Shaw and I were sitting in the tent when Delorier thrust 
 his brown face and old felt hat into the opening, and dilat- 
 ing his eyes to their utmost extent, announced supper. 
 There were the tin cups and the iron spoons arranged in 
 military order on the grass, and the coffee-pot predomi- 
 nant in the midst. The meal was soon dispatched; but 
 
36 THE OREGON TRAIL 
 
 Henry Chatillon still sat cross-legged, dallying with the 
 remnant of his coffee, the beverage in universal use upon 
 the prairie, and an especial favorite with him. He pre- 
 ferred it in its virgin flavor, unimpaired by sugar or cream; 
 and on the present occasion it met his entire approval, 
 being exceeclingiy strong, or as he expressed it, ''right 
 black." 
 
 It was a rich and gorgeous sunset — an American sun- 
 set ; and the ruddy glow of the sky was reflected from some 
 extensive pools of water among the shadowy copses in the 
 meadow below. 
 
 "I must have a bath to-night," said Shaw. ''How is 
 it, Delorier? Any chance for a swim down there? " 
 
 "Ah! I cannot teU; just as you please, Monsieur," re- 
 plied Delorier, shrugging his shoulders, perplexed by his 
 ignorance of English, and extremely anxious to conform 
 in all respects to the opinions and wishes of his bourgeois. 
 
 " Look at his moccasin," said I. It had evidently been 
 lately immersed in a profound abyss of black mud. 
 
 "Come," said Shaw; "at any rate we can see for our- 
 selves." 
 
 We set out together; and as we approached the bushes, 
 w^hich were at some distance, we found the ground be- 
 coming rather treacherous. We could only get along by 
 stepping upon large clumps of tall rank grass, with fath- 
 omless gulfs between, like innumerable little quaking is- 
 lands in an ocean of mud, where a false step Avould have 
 involved our boots in a catastrophe like that which had 
 befahen Delorier's moccasins. The thing looked desper- 
 ate: we separated, so as to search in different directions, 
 Shaw going off to the right, while I kept straight forward. 
 At last I came to the edge of the bushes: they were young 
 w^ater-willows, covered with their caterpillar-like blossoms, 
 but intervening between them and the last grass clump 
 was a black and deep slough, over which, by a vigorous 
 exertion, I contrived to jump. Then I shouldered my way 
 through the willows, trampling them down by main force, 
 till I came to a wide stream of water, three inches deep, 
 languidly creeping along over a bottom of sleek mud. My 
 arrival produced a great commotion. A huge green bull- 
 frog uttered an indignant croak, and jumped off the bank 
 
THE "BIG BLUE" 37 
 
 with a loud splash: his webbed feet twinkled above the 
 surface as he jerked them energetically upward, and I 
 could see him ensconcing himself in the unresisting slime 
 at the bottom, whence several large air-bubbles struggled 
 lazih^ to the top. Some little spotted frogs instantly fol- 
 lowed the patriarch's example; and then three turtles, not 
 larger than a dollar, tumbled themselves off a broad " lily 
 pad,'^ where they had been reposing. At the same time 
 a snake, gayly striped with black and yellow, glided out 
 from the bank, and writhed across to the other side ; and a 
 small stagnant pool, into which my foot had inadvertently 
 pushed a stone, was instantly alive with a congregation of 
 black tadpoles. 
 
 "Any chance for a bath, where you are?" called out 
 Shaw, from a distance. 
 
 The answer was not encouraging. I retreated through 
 the Avillows, and rejoining my companion, we proceeded 
 to push our researches in company. Not far on the right, 
 a rising ground, covered with trees and bushes, seemed to 
 sink down abruptly to the water, and give hope of better 
 success; so toward this we directed our steps. When we 
 reached the place we found it no easy matter to get along 
 between the hill and the water, impeded as Ave were by a 
 growth of stiff, obstinate young birch trees, laced together 
 b}' grape-vines. In the tAvilight we now and then, to sup- 
 port ourselves, snatched at the touch-me-not stem of some 
 ancient sweet-brier. Shaw, who Avas in advance, suddenly 
 uttered a someAvhat emphatic monosyllable; and, looking 
 up, I saAv him Avith one hand grasping a sapling, and one 
 foot immersed in the Avater, from Avhich he had forgotten 
 to AvithdraAV it, his Avhole attention being engaged in con- 
 templating the movements of a Avater-snake about five 
 feet long, curiously checkered Avith black and green, A\^ho 
 Avas deliberate^ sAvimming across the pool. There being 
 no stick or stone at hand to pelt him Avith, Ave looked at 
 him for a time in silent disgust; and then pushed forward. 
 Our perseverance Avas at last rcAvarded; for several rods 
 farther on, Ave emerged upon a little level grassy nook 
 among the brush Avood, and by an extraordinary^ dispensa- 
 tion of fortune, the weeds and floating sticks, AAdiich else- 
 where covered the pool, seemed to have draAAm apart, and 
 
38 THE OREGON TRAIL 
 
 left a few yards of clear water just in front of this favored 
 spot. We sounded it with a stick; it was four feet deep: 
 we lifted a specimen in our closed hands; it seemed rea- 
 sonably transparent, so we decided that the time for ac- 
 tion was arrived. But our ablutions were suddenly inter- 
 rupted by ten thousand punctures, like poisoned needles, 
 and the humming of myriads of overgrown mosquitoes, 
 rising in all directions from their native mud and slime and 
 swarming to the feast. We were fain to beat a retreat with 
 all possible speed. 
 
 We made toward the tents, much refreshed by the bath, 
 which the heat of the weather, joined to our prejudices, 
 had rendered very desirable. 
 
 "What's the matter with the Captain? look at him!'^ 
 said Shaw. The Captain stood alone on the prairie, swing- 
 ing his hat violently around his head, and lifting first one 
 foot and then the other, without moving from the spot. 
 First he looked down to the ground with an air of supreme 
 abhorrence; then he gazed upward with a perplexed and 
 indignant countenance, as if trying to trace the flight of an 
 unseen enemy. We called to know what was the matter; 
 but he replied only by execrations directed against some 
 unknown object. We approached, when our ears were 
 saluted by a droning sound, as if twenty bee-hives had 
 been overturned at once. The air above was full of large 
 black insects in a state of great commotion, and multi- 
 tudes were flying about just above the tops of the grass- 
 blades. 
 
 "Don't be afraid," called the Captain, observing us re- 
 coil. "The brutes won't sting." 
 
 At this I knocked one clown with mry hat, and dis- 
 covered him to be no other than a " dor-bug " ; and look- 
 ing closer, we found the ground thickly perforated with 
 their holes. 
 
 We took a hasty leave of this flourishing colon}^, and 
 walking up the rising ground to the tents, fqund Delorier's 
 fire still glowing brightly. We sat down around it, and 
 Shaw began to expatiate on the admirable facilities for 
 bathing that we had discovered, and recommended the 
 Captain by all means to go down there before breakfast in 
 the morning. The Captain was in the act of remarking 
 
THE ''BIG BLUE" 39 
 
 that he couldn't have believed it possible, when he sud- 
 denly interrupted himself, and clapped his hand to his 
 cheek, exclaiming that ^' those infernal humbugs were at 
 him again/' In fact, we began to hear sounds as if bul- 
 lets wxre humming over our heads. In a moment some- 
 thing rapped me sharply on the forehead, then upon the 
 neck, and immediately I felt an indefinite number of sharp 
 wiry claws in active motion, as if their owner were bent* 
 on pushing his explorations farther. I seized him and 
 dropped him into the fire. Our party speedily broke up, 
 and we adjourned to our respective tents, where, closing 
 the opening fast, we hoped to be exempt from invasion. 
 But all precaution was fruitless. The dor-bugs hummed 
 through the tent and marched over our faces until day- 
 light; when, opening our blankets, we found several dozen 
 clinging there with the utmost tenacity. The first object 
 that met our eyes in the morning was Delorier, who seemed 
 to be apostrophizing his frying-pan, w^hich he held by the 
 handle, at arm's length. It appeared that he had left it 
 at night by the fire ; and the bottom was now covered with 
 dor-bugs, firmly imbedded. Multitudes besides, curiously 
 parched and shrivelled, lay scattered among the ashes. 
 
 The horses and mules were turned loose to feed. We 
 had just taken our seats at breakfast, or rather reclined in 
 the classic mode, when an exclamation from Henry Chatil- 
 lon, and a shout of alarm from the Captain, gave warning 
 of some casualty, and looking up, we saw the whole band 
 of animals, twenty-three in number, filing off for the settle- 
 ments, the incorrigible Pontiac at their head, jumping 
 along with hobbled feet, at a gait much more rapid than ] 
 graceful. Three or four of us ran to cut them off, dashing 
 as best we might through the tall grass which was glitter- 
 ing with myriads of dewdrops. After a race of a mile or 
 more Shaw caught a horse. Tying the trail-rope by way 
 of bridle round the animal's jaw, and leaping upon his 
 back, he got in advance of the remaining fugitives, while 
 we, soon bringing them together, drove them in a crowd 
 up to the tents, where each man caught and saddled his 
 own. Then were heard lamentations and curses; for half 
 the horses had broke their hobbles, and many v\^ere seri- 
 ously galled by attempting to run in fetters. 
 
40 THE OREGON TRAIL 
 
 It was late that morning before we were on the march; 
 and early in the afternoon we were compelled to encamp, 
 for a thunder-gust came up and suddenly enveloped us in 
 whirling sheets of rain. With much ado we pitched our 
 tents amid the tempest, and all night long the thunder 
 bellowed and growled over our heads. In the morning, 
 light peaceful showers succeeded the cataracts of rain that 
 had been drenching us through the canvas of our tents. 
 About noon, when there were some treacherous indica- 
 tions of fair weather, we got in motion again. 
 
 Not a breath of air stirred over the free and open prai- 
 rie: the clouds were like light piles of cotton; and where 
 the blue sky was visible, it wore a hazy and languid aspect. 
 The sun beat down upon us with a sultry penetrating heat 
 almost insupportable, and as our party crept slowly along 
 over the interminable level, the horses hung their heads as 
 they waded fetlock deep through the mud, and the men 
 slouched into the easiest position upon the saddle. At 
 last, toward evening, the old familiar black heads of 
 thunder-clouds rose fast above the horizon, and the same 
 deep muttering of distant thunder that had become the 
 ordinary accompaniment of our afternoon's journey began 
 to roll hoarsely over the prairie. Only a few minutes 
 elapsed before the whole sky was densely shrouded, and 
 the prairie and some clusters of woods in front assumed a 
 purple hue beneath the inky shadows. Suddenly from the 
 densest fold of the cloud the flash leaped out, quivering 
 again and again down to the edge of the prairie ; and at the 
 same instant came the sharp burst and the long rolling 
 peal of the thunder. A cool wind, filled with the smell of 
 rain, just then overtook us, levelling the tall grass by the 
 side of the path. 
 
 "Come on; we must ride for it!" shouted Shaw, rushing 
 past at full speed, his led horse snorting at his side. The 
 whole party broke into full gallop, and made for the trees 
 in front. Passing these, we found beyond them a meadow 
 which they half inclosed. We rode pell-mell upon the 
 ground, leaped from horseback, tore off our saddles; and 
 in a moment each man was kneeling at his horse's feet. 
 The hobbles were adjusted, and the animals turned loose; 
 then, as the wagons came wheeling rapidly to the spot, we 
 
THE ''BIG BLUE" 41 
 
 seized upon the tent-poles, and just as the storm broke we 
 were prepared to receive it. It came upon us ahnost with 
 the darkness of night: the trees which were close at hand 
 were completely shrouded by the roaring torrents of 
 rain. 
 
 We were sitting in the tent, when Delorier, with his 
 broad felt hat hanging about his ears and his shoulders 
 glistening with rain, thrust in his head. 
 
 " Voulez vous du souper, tout cle suite? I can make fire, 
 sous la charette — I b'heve so — I try.^' 
 
 ''Never mind supper, man; come in out of the rain." 
 
 Delorier accordingly crouched in the entrance, for mod- 
 esty would not permit him to intrude farther. 
 
 Our tent was none of the best defence against such a 
 cataract. The rain could not enter bodily, but it beat 
 through the canvas in a fine drizzle that wetted us just as 
 effectually. We sat upon our saddles with faces of the ut- 
 most surliness, while the water dropped from the vizors 
 of our caps and trickled dowm our cheeks. My india- 
 rubber cloak conducted twenty little rapid streamlets to 
 the ground; and Shaw's blanket coat was saturated like 
 I sponge. But what most concerned us was the sight of 
 several puddles of water rapidly accumulating; one, in par- 
 ticular, that was gathering around the tent-pole threatened 
 to overspread the whole area Avithin the tent, holding forth 
 but an indifferent promise of a comfortable night's rest. 
 Toward sunset, however, the storm ceased as suddenly as 
 it began. A bright streak of clear red sky appeared above 
 the western verge of the prairie, the horizontal rays of the 
 sinking sun streamed through it, and glittered in a thou- 
 sand prismatic colors upon the dripping groves and the 
 prostrate grass. The pools in the tent dwindled and sank 
 into the saturated soil. 
 
 But all our hopes were delusive. Scarcely had night set 
 in, when the tumult broke forth anew. The thunder here 
 is not like the tame thunder of the Atlantic coast. Burst- 
 ing with a terrific crash directly above our heads, it roared 
 over the boundless waste of prairie, seeming to roll around 
 the whole circle of the firmament \\\.i\\ a peculiar and aw- 
 ful reverberation. The lightning flashed all night, playing 
 with its livid glare upon the neighboring trees, revealing 
 
42 THE OREGON TRAIL 
 
 the vast expanse of the plain, and then leaving us shut in 
 as if by a palpable wall of darkness. 
 
 It did not disturb us much. Now and then a peal 
 awakened us, and made us conscious of the electric battle 
 that was raging, and of the floods that dashed upon the 
 stanch canvas over our heads. We lay upon india-rubber 
 cloths, placed between our blankets and the soil. For a 
 while, they excluded the water to admiration; but when 
 at length it accumulated and began to* run over the edges, 
 they served equally well to retain it, so that toward the 
 end of the night we were unconsciously reposing in small 
 pools of rain. 
 
 On finally awakening in the morning the prospect was 
 not a cheerful one. The rain no longer poured in torrents, 
 but it pattered with a quiet pertinacity upon the strained 
 and saturated canvas. We disengaged ourselves from our 
 blankets, every fibre of which glistened with little bead- 
 like drops of water, and looked out in the vain hope of 
 discovering some token of fair weather. The clouds, in 
 lead-colored volumes, rested upon the dismal verge of the 
 prairie, or hung sluggishly overhead, while the earth wore 
 an aspect no more attractive than the heavens, exhibiting 
 nothing but pools of water, grass beaten down, and mud 
 well trampled by our mules and horses. Our companions' 
 tent, with an air of forlorn and passive misery, and their 
 wagons in like manner, drenched and woe-begone, stood 
 not far off. The Captain was just returning from his morn- 
 ing's inspection of the horses. He stalked through the 
 mist and rain with his plaid -around his shoulders, his little 
 pipe, dingy as an antiquarian relic, projecting from be- 
 neath his moustache, and his brother Jack at his heels. 
 
 *' Good morning. Captain." 
 
 '' Good morning to your honors," said the Captain, af- 
 fecting the Hibernian accent; but at that instant, as he 
 stooped to enter the tent, he tripped upon the cords at the 
 entrance, and pitched forward against the guns which were 
 strapped around the pole in the centre. 
 
 ''You are nice men, you are!" said he, after an ejacula- 
 tion not necessary to be recorded, " to set a man-trap be- 
 fore your door every morning to catch your visitors." 
 
 Then he sat down upon Henry Chatillon's saddle. We 
 
THE ''BIG BLUE" 43 
 
 tossed a piece of buffalo-robe to Jack, who was looking 
 about in some embarrassment. He spread it on the 
 ground, and took his seat, with a stolid countenance, at 
 his brother's side. 
 
 " Exhilarating weather. Captain." 
 
 ''Oh, delightful, delightful!" replied the Captain; "I 
 knew it would be so; so much for starting yesterday at 
 noon ! I knew how it would turn out ; and I said so at the 
 time.'' 
 
 " You said just the contrary to us. We were in no hurry, 
 and only moved because you insisted on it." 
 
 " Gentlemen," said the Captain, taking his pipe from 
 his mouth with an air of extreme gravity, "it was no plan 
 of mine. There's a man among us who is determined to 
 have everything his own way. You may express your 
 opinion; but don't expect him to listen. You may be as 
 reasonable as you like ; oh, it all goes for nothing ! That 
 man is resolved to rule the roast, and he'll set his face 
 against any plan that he didn't think of himself." 
 
 The Captain puffed for awhile at his pipe, as if meditat- 
 ing upon his grievances; then he began again. 
 
 " For twenty years I have been in the British army; and 
 in all that time I never had half so much dissension, and 
 quarrelling, and nonsense, as since I have been on this 
 cursed prairie. He's the most uncomfortable man I ever 
 met." 
 
 "Yes"; said Jack, "and don't you know, Bill, how he 
 drank up all the coffee last night, and put the rest by for 
 himself till the morning ! " 
 
 "He pretends to know everything," resumed the Cap- 
 tain ; " nobody must give orders but he ! It's, oh ! we must 
 do tins; and, oh! we must do that; and the tent must be 
 pitched here, and the horses must be picketed there; for 
 nobody knows as well as he does." 
 
 We were a little surprised at this disclosure of domestic 
 dissensions among our allies, for though we knew of their 
 existence, we were not aware of their extent. The perse- 
 cuted Captain seeming wholly at a loss as to the course 
 of conduct that he should pursue, we recommended him 
 to adopt prompt and energetic measures; but all his 
 military experience had failed to teach him the indis- 
 
44 THE OREGON TRAIL 
 
 pensable lesson, to be " hard " when the emergency re- 
 quires it. 
 
 " For twenty years," he repeated, " I have been in the 
 British army, and in that time I have been intimately 
 acquainted with some two hundred officers, young and 
 old, and I never yet quarrelled with any man. ' Oh, any- 
 thing for a quiet life!' that's my maxim.'' 
 
 We intimated that the prairie was hardly the plac& to 
 enjoy a quiet life, but that, in the present circumstances, 
 the best thing he could do toward securing his wished- 
 for tranquilhty was immediately to put a period to the 
 nuisance that disturbed it. But again the Captain's easy 
 good nature recoiled from the task. The somewhat vigor- 
 ous measures necessary to gain the desired result were ut- 
 terly repugnant to him ; he preferred to pocket his griev- 
 ances, still retaining the privilege of grumbling about them. 
 " Oh, anything for a quiet life ! " he said again, circling back 
 to his favorite maxim. 
 
 But to glance at the previous history of our trans- 
 atlantic confederates. The Captain had sold his commis- 
 sion, and was living in bachelor ease and dignity in his 
 paternal halls, near Dublin. He hunted, fished, rode 
 steeple-chases, ran races, and talked of his former ex- 
 ploits. He was surrounded with the trophies of his rod 
 and gun; the walls were plentifully garnished, he told us, 
 with moose-horns and deer-horns, bear-skins and fox- 
 tails; for the Captain's double-barrelled rifle had seen 
 service in Canada and Jamaica; he had killed salmon in 
 Nova Scotia, and trout, by his own account, in all the 
 streams of the three kingdoms. But in an evil hour a 
 seductive stranger came from London; no less a person 
 than R.; who, among other multitudinous wanderings, 
 had once been upon the western prairies, and, naturally 
 enough, was anxious to visit them again. The Captain's 
 imagination was inflamed by the pictures of a hunter's 
 paradise that his guest held forth; he conceived an ambi- 
 tion to add to his other trophies the horns of a buffalo 
 and the claws of a grizzly bear; so he and R. struck a 
 league to travel in company. Jack followed his brother 
 as a matter of course. Two weeks on board of the Atlan- 
 tic steamer brought them to Boston; in two weeks more 
 
''JUMPING OFF" 45 
 
 of hard travelling they reached St. Louis, from which a 
 ride of six days carried them to the frontier; and here we 
 found them, in the full tide of preparation for their 
 journey. 
 
 We had been throughout on terms of intimacy with 
 the Captain, but R., the motive power of our compan- 
 ions' branch of the expedition, was scarcely known to 
 us. His voice, indeed, might be heard incessantly; but 
 at camp he remained chiefly within the tent, and on the 
 road he either rode by himself or else remained in close 
 conversation with his friend Wright, the muleteer. As 
 the Captain left the tent that morning I observed R. 
 standing by the fire, and, having nothing else to do, I 
 determined to ascertain, if possible, what manner of man 
 he was. He had a book under his arm, but just at pres- 
 ent he was engrossed in actively superintending the oper- 
 ations of Sorel, the hunter, who was cooking some corn- 
 bread over the coals for breakfast. R. was a well-formed 
 and rather good-looking man, some thirty years old; con- 
 siderably younger than the Captain. He wore a beard 
 and moustache of the oakum complexion, and his attire 
 was altogether more elegant than one ordinarily sees on 
 the prairie. He wore his cap on one side of his head; 
 his checked shirt, open in front, was in very neat order, 
 considering the circumstances, and his blue pantaloons, 
 of the John Bull cut, might once have figured in Bond 
 Street. 
 
 " Turn over that cake, man ! turn it over quick ! Don 't 
 you see it burning? '^ 
 
 "It ain't half-done,'^ growled Sorel, in the amiable 
 tone of a whipped bull-dog. 
 
 " It is. Turn it over, I tell you ! " 
 
 Sorel, a strong, sullen-looking Canadian, who, from 
 having spent his life among the wildest and most remote 
 of the Indian tribes, had imbibed much of their dark 
 vindictive spirit, looked ferociously up, as if he longed to 
 leap upon his bourgeois and throttle him; but he obeyed 
 the order, coming from so experienced an artist. 
 
 "It was a good idea of yours," said I, seating myself 
 on the tongue of the wagon, " to bring Indian meal with 
 you.'' 
 
46 THE OREGON TRAIL 
 
 ^'Yes, yes/' said R., "it's good bread for the prairie — 
 good bread for the prairie. I tell you that's burning 
 again. " 
 
 Here he stooped down, and unsheathing the silver- 
 mounted hunting-knife in his belt, began to perform the 
 part of cook himself: at the same time requesting me to 
 hold for a moment the book under his arm, which inter- 
 fered with the exercise of these important functions. I 
 opened it; it was ''Macaulay's Lays"; and I made some 
 remark, expressing my admiration of the work. 
 
 "Yes, yes; a pretty good thing. Macaulay can do 
 better than that, though. I know him very well. I have 
 travelled with him. Where was it we met first — at Da- 
 mascus? No, no; it was in Italy." 
 
 "So," said I, "you have been over the same ground 
 with your countrj^man, the author of ^Eothen"? There 
 has been some discussion in America as to who he is. I 
 have heard Milnes's name mentioned." 
 
 "Milnes? Oh, no, no, no; not at all. It was Kinglake; 
 King-lake's the man. I know him very well; that is, I 
 have seen him." 
 
 Here Jack C, who stood by, interposed a remark (a 
 thing not common with him), observing that he thought 
 the weather would become fair before twelve o'clock. 
 
 "It's going to rain all day," said R., "and clear up in 
 the middle of the night." 
 
 Just then the clouds began to dissipate in a very un- 
 equivocal manner; but Jack, not caring to defend his 
 point against so authoritative a declaration, walked 
 away whistling, and we resumed our conversation. 
 
 "Borrow, the author of 'The Bible in Spain,' I pre- 
 sume you know him, too? " 
 
 "Oh, certainly; I know all those men. By the way, 
 they told me that one of your American writers. Judge 
 Story, had died lately. I edited some of his works in 
 London; not without faults, though." 
 
 Here followed an erudite commentary on certain points 
 of law, in which he particularly animadverted on the 
 errors into which he considered that the judge had been 
 betrayed. At length, having touched successively on an 
 infinite variety of topics, I found that I had the happiness 
 
THE ''BIG BLUE" 47 
 
 of discovering a man equally competent to enlighten me 
 upon them all, equally an authority on matters of science 
 or literature, philosophy or fashion. The part I bore in 
 the conversation was by no means a prominent one; it 
 was onh' necessary to set him going, and when he had 
 run long enough upon one topic, to divert him to another, 
 and lead him on to pour out his heaps of treasure in suc- 
 cession. 
 
 "What has that fellow been saying to you?'' said 
 Shaw, as I returned to the tent. '' I have heard nothing 
 but his talking for the last half-hour.'' 
 
 R. had none of the peculiar traits of the ordinary 
 " British snob " ; his absurdities were all his own, belong- 
 ing to no particular nation or clime. He was possessed 
 with an active devil that had driven him over land and 
 sea, to no great purpose, as it seemed; for although he 
 had the usual complement of eyes and ears, the avenues 
 between these organs and his brain appeared remarkably 
 narrow and untrodden. His energy was rnuch more 
 conspicuous than his wisdom; but his predominant char-' 
 acteristic was a magnanimous ambition to exercise on 
 all occasions an awful rule and supremacy, and this pro- 
 pensity equally displayed itself, as the reader will have 
 observed, whether the matter in question was the baking 
 of a hoe-cake or a point of international law. When 
 such diverse elements as he and the easy-tempered Cap- 
 tain came in contact, no wonder some commotion ensued; 
 R. rode rough-shod, from morning till night, over his mil- 
 itary ally. 
 
 At noon the sky was clear, and we set out, trailing 
 through mud and slime six inches deep. That night we 
 were spared the customary infliction of the shower-bath. 
 
 On the next afternoon we were moving slowly along, 
 not far from a patch of woods which lay on the right. 
 Jack C. rode a little in advance, 
 
 "The livelong day he had not spoke," 
 
 when suddenly he faced about, pointed to the woods, 
 and roared out to his brother: 
 
 "Oh, Bill! here's a cow!" 
 
 The Captain instantly galloped forward, and he and 
 
48 ' THE OREGON TRAIL 
 
 Jack made a vain attempt to capture the prize; but the 
 cow, with a well-grounded distrust of their intentions, 
 took refuge among the trees. R. joined them, and they 
 soon drove her out. We w^atched their evolutions as 
 they galloped around her, trying in vain to noose her 
 with their trail-ropes, which they had converted into 
 lariettes for the occasion. At length they resorted to 
 milder measures, and the cow was driven along with the 
 party. Soon after, the usual thunder-storm came up, 
 the wind blowing with such fury that the streams of rain 
 flew almost horizontally along the prairie, roaring like a 
 cataract. The horses turned tail to the storm, and stood 
 hanging their heads, bearing the infliction with an air of 
 meekness and resignation; while we drew our heads be- 
 tween our shoulders, and crouched forward, so as to make 
 our backs serve as a pent-house for the rest of our persons. 
 Meanwhile,- the cow, taking advantage of the tumult, 
 ran off, to the great discomfiture of the Captain, who 
 .seemed to consider her as his own especial prize, since 
 she had been discovered by Jack. In defiance of the 
 storm, he pulled his cap tight over his brows, jerked a 
 huge buffalo-pistol from his holster, and set out at full 
 speed after her. This was the last we saw of them for 
 some time, the mist and rain making an impenetrable 
 veil; but at length we heard the Captain's shout, and saw 
 him looming through the tempest, the picture of a Hiber- 
 nian cavalier, with his cocked pistol held aloft for safety's 
 sake, and a countenance of anxiety and excitement. The 
 cow trotted before him, but exhibited evident signs of an 
 intention to run off again, and the Captain was roaring 
 to us to head her. But the rain had got in behind ou"^ 
 coat collars, and was travelling over our necks in numer 
 ous little streamlets, and being afraid to move our heads, 
 for fear of admitting more, we sat stiff and immovable, 
 looking at the Captain askance, and laughing at his fran- 
 tic movements. At last, the cow made a sudden plunge 
 and ran off; the Captain grasped his pistol firmly, spurred 
 his horse, and galloped after, with evident designs of 
 mischief. In a moment we heard the faint report, clead- 
 ened by the rain, and then the conqueror and his victim 
 reappeared, the latter shot through the body, and quite 
 
THE ''BIG BLUE" 49 
 
 helpless. Not long after, the storm moderated and we 
 advanced again. The cow walked painfully along under 
 the charge of Jack, to whom the Captain had committed 
 her, while he himself rode forward in his old capacity of 
 vidette. We were approaching a long line of trees that 
 followed a stream stretching across our path, far in front, 
 when we beheld the vidette galloping toward us, ap- 
 parently much excited, but with a broad grin on his 
 face. 
 
 *' Let that cow drop behind!" he shouted to us; "here's 
 her owners ! " 
 
 And in fact, as we approached the line of trees, a large 
 white object, like a tent, was visible behind them. On 
 approaching, however, we found, instead of the expected 
 Mormon camp, nothing but the lonely prairie, and a 
 large white rock standing by the path. The cow, there- 
 fore, resumed her place in our procession. She walked 
 on until we encamped, when R., firmly approaching 
 with his enormous English double-barrelled rifle, calmly 
 and deliberately took aim at her heart, and discharged 
 into it first one bullet and then the other. She was then 
 butchered on the most approved principles of woodcraft, 
 and furnished a very welcome item to our somewhat 
 limited bill of faro. 
 
 In a day or two more we reached the river called the 
 "Big Blue." By titles equally elegant, almost all the 
 streams of this region are designated. We had struggled 
 through ditches and little brooks all that morning; but on 
 traversing the dense woods that lined the banks of the 
 Blue, we found that more formidable difficulties awaited 
 us, for the stream, swollen by the rains, was wide, deep, 
 and rapid. 
 
 No sooner were we on the spot than R. had flung off 
 his clothes, and was swimming across, or splashing 
 through the shallows, with the end of a rope between his 
 teeth. We all looked on in admiration, wondering what 
 might be the design of this energetic preparation; but 
 soon we heard him shouting: "Give that rope a turn 
 round that stump! You, Sorel; do you hear? Look 
 sharp, now, Boisverd! Come over to this side, some of 
 you, and help me ! " The men to whom these orders v/ere 
 
50 THE OREGON TRAIL 
 
 directed paid not the least attention to them, though they 
 were poured out without pause or intermission. Henry 
 Chatillon directed the work, and it proceeded quietly 
 and rapidly. R.'s sharp brattling voice might have been 
 heard incessantly; and he was leaping about with the 
 utmost activity, multiplying himself, after the manner of 
 great commanders, as if his universal presence and super- 
 vision were of the last necessity. His commands were 
 rather amusingly inconsistent; for when he saw that the 
 men would not do as he told them, he wisely accommo- 
 dated himself to circumstances, and with the utmost ve- 
 hemence ordered them to do precisely that which they 
 were at the time engaged upon, no doubt recollecting the 
 story of Mahomet and the refractory mountain. Shaw 
 smiled significantly; R. observed it, and approaching 
 with a countenance of lofty indignation, began to vapor 
 a little, but was instantly reduced to silence. 
 
 The raft was at length complete. We piled our goods 
 upon it, with the exception of our guns, which each man 
 chose to retain in his own keeping. Sorel, Boisverd, 
 Wright, and Delorier took their stations at the four 
 corners, to hold it together, and swim across with it; and 
 in a moment more all our earthly possessions were float- 
 ing on the turbid waters of the Big Blue. We sat on 
 the bank, anxiously watching the result, until we saw 
 the raft safely landed in a little cove far down on the op- 
 posite bank. The empty wagons were easily passed 
 across; and then, each man mounting a horse, we rode 
 through the stream, the stray animals following of their 
 own accord. 
 
THE PLATTE AND THE DESERT 51 
 
 CHAPTER VI 
 
 THE PLATTE AND THE DESERT 
 
 " Seest thou yon dreary plain, forlorn and wild, 
 The seat of desolation? " — Paradise Lost. 
 
 " Here have we war for war, and blood for blood." 
 
 King John. 
 
 We were now arrived at the close of our solitary jour- 
 neyings along the St. Joseph's trail. On the evening of 
 the twenty-third of May we encamped near its junction 
 with the old legitimate trail of the Oregon emigrants. 
 We had ridden long that afternoon, trying in vain to find 
 w^ood and water, until at length we saw the sunset sky 
 reflected from a pool encircled by bushes and a rock or 
 two. The water lay in the bottom of a hollow, the smooth 
 prairie gracefully rising in ocean-like swells on every side. 
 We pitched our tents by it; not, however, before the keen 
 eye of Henry Chatillon had discerned some unusual ob- 
 ject upon the faintly defined outline of the distant swell. 
 But in the moist, hazy atmosphere of the evening nothing 
 could be clearly distinguished. As we lay around the fire 
 after supper a low and distant sound, strange enough 
 amid the loneliness of the prairie, reached out ears — peals 
 of laughter and the faint voices of men and women. For 
 eight da^'s we had not encountered a human being, and 
 this singular warning of their vicinity had an effect ex- 
 tremely wild and impressive. 
 
 About dark a sallow-faced fellow descended the hill on 
 horseback, and splashing through the pool, rode up to 
 the tents. He w^as enveloped in a huge cloak, and his 
 broad felt hat was weeping about his ears with the driz- 
 zling moisture of the evening. Another followed, a stout, 
 square-built, intelligent-looking man, who announced him-, 
 self as leader of an emigrant party, encamped a mile in 
 advance of us. About twenty wagons, he said, were with 
 him ; the rest of his party were on the other side of the Big 
 Blue, waiting for a woman who was in the pains of child- 
 birth, and quarrelling meanwhile among themselves. 
 
 These were the first emigrants that we had overtaken, 
 
52 THE OREGON TRAIL 
 
 although we had found abundant and melancholy traces 
 of their progress throughout the whole course of the 
 journey. Sometimes we passed the grave of one who had 
 sickened and died on the way. The earth was usually 
 torn up, and covered thickly with wolf-tracks. Some 
 had escaped this violation. One morning a piece of plank, 
 standing upright on the summit of a grassy hill, attracted 
 our notice, and riding up to it, we found the following 
 words very roughly traced upon it, apparently by a red- 
 hot piece of iron: 
 
 MARY ELLIS, 
 
 DIED MAY 7TH, 1845. 
 
 AGED TWO MONTHS. 
 
 Such tokens were of common occurrence. Nothing 
 could speak more for the hardihood, or rather infatua- 
 tion, of the adventurers, or the sufferings that await them 
 upon the journey. 
 
 We were late in breaking up our camp on the following 
 morning, and scarcely had we ridden a mile when we saw, 
 far in advance of us, drawn against the horizon, a line of 
 objects stretching at regular intervals along the level 
 edge of the prairie. An intervening swell soon hid them 
 from sight, until, ascending it a quarter of an hour after, 
 we saw close before us the emigrant caravan, with its 
 heavy white wagons creeping on in their slow procession, 
 and a large drove of cattle following behind. Half a 
 dozen yellow-visaged Missourians, mounted on horseback, 
 were cursing and shouting among them; their lank angu- 
 lar proportions, enveloped in brown homespun, evidently 
 cut and adjusted by the hands of a domestic female tailor. 
 As we approached, they greeted us with the polished 
 salutation: ''How are ye, boys? Are ye for Oregon or 
 CaHfornia?" 
 
 As we pushed rapidly past the wagons, children's faces 
 w^ere thrust out from the white coverings to look at us; 
 while the care-worn, thin featured matron, or the buxom 
 girl, seated in front, suspended the knitting on which 
 
THE PLATTE AND THE DESERT 53 
 
 most of them were engaged, to stare at us with wondering 
 curiosity. B}^ the side of each wagon stalked the pro- 
 prietor, urging on his patient oxen, who shouldered 
 heavily along, inch by inch, on their interminable jour- 
 ney. It was easy to see that fear and dissension prevailed 
 among them; some of the men — but these, with one ex- 
 ception, were bachelors — looked wistfully upon us as we 
 rode lightly and swiftly past, and then impatiently at 
 their own lumbering wagons and heavy-gaited oxen. 
 Others were unwilling to advance at all, until the party 
 they had left behind should have rejoined them. Many 
 were murmuring against the leader they had chosen, and 
 wished to depose him; and this discontent was fomented 
 by some ambitious spirits, who had hopes of succeeding 
 in his place. The women were dividecl between regrets 
 for the homes they had left and apprehension of the 
 deserts and the savages before them. 
 
 We soon left them far behind, and fondly hoped that 
 we had taken a final leave; but unluckily our companions' 
 wagon stuck so long in a deep muddy ditch, that before 
 it was extricated the van of the emigrant caravan ap- 
 peared again, descending a ridge close at hand. Wagon 
 after wagon plunged through the mud; and as it was 
 nearly noon, and the place promised shade and water, we 
 saw with much gratification that they were resolved to 
 encamp. Soon the wagons w^ere wheeled into a circle; 
 the cattle were grazing over the meadow, and the men, 
 with sour, sullen faces, were looking about for wood and 
 water. They seemed to meet with but indifferent success. 
 As we left the ground, I saw a tall slouching fellow, with 
 the nasal accent of "down east," contemplating the con- 
 tents of his tin cup, which he had just filled with water. 
 
 ''Look here, you," said he; "it's chock-full of animals!" 
 
 The cup, as he held it out, exhibited in fact an ex- 
 traordinary variety and profusion of animal and vegetable 
 life. _ 
 
 Riding up the little hill, and looking back on the 
 meadow, we could easily see that all was not right in 
 the camp of the emigrants. The men were crowded to- 
 gether, and an angry discussion seemed to be going for- 
 ward. R. was missing from his wonted place in the line. 
 
54 THE OREGON TRAIL 
 
 and the Captain told us that he had remained behind to get 
 his horse shod by a blacksmith who was attached to the 
 emigrant party. Something whispered in our ears that 
 mischief was on foot; we kept on, however, and coming 
 soon to a stream of tolerable water, we stopped to rest 
 and dine. Still the absentee lingered behind. At last, 
 at the distance of a mile, he and his horse suddenly ap- 
 peared, sharply defined against the sky on the summit 
 of a hill; and close behind a huge white object rose slowly 
 into view. 
 
 " What is that blockhead bringing with him now? " 
 A moment dispelled the mystery. Slowly and solemnly, 
 one behind the other, four long trains of oxen and four 
 emigrant wagons rolled over the crest of the declivity 
 and gravely descended, while R. rode in state in the van. 
 It seems that during the process of shoeing the horse, 
 the smothered dissensions among the emigrants suddenly 
 broke into open rupture. Some insisted on pushing for- 
 ward, some on remaining where they were, and some 
 on going back. Kearsley, their captain, threw up his 
 command in disgust. "And now, boys," said he, "if 
 any of you are for going ahead, just you come along 
 with me." 
 
 Four wagons, with ten men, one woman, and one 
 small child, made up the force of the "go-ahead" faction, 
 and R., with his usual proclivity toward mischief, invited 
 them to join our party. Fear of the Indians — for I can 
 conceive of no other motive — must have induced him to 
 court so burdensome an alliance. As may well be con- 
 ceived, these repeated instances of high-handed dealing 
 sufficiently exasperated us. In this case, indeed, the men 
 who joined us were all that could be desired; rude, in- 
 deed, in manners, but frank, manly, and intelligent. To 
 tell them we could not travel with them was of course 
 out of the ciuestion. I merely reminded Kearsley that 
 if- his oxen could not keep up with our mules he must ex- 
 pect to be left behind, as we could not consent to be 
 farther delayed on the journey; but he immediately 
 replied that his oxen " should keep up; and if they couldn't, 
 why he allowed he'd find out how to make 'em ! " Having 
 also availed myself of what satisfaction could be de- 
 
THE PLATTE AND THE DESERT 55 
 
 rived from giving R. to understand my opinion of his 
 conduct, I returned to our own side of the camp. 
 
 On the next day, as it chanced, our EngHsh companions 
 broke the axle-tree of their wagon, and down came the 
 whole cumbrous machine lumbering into the bed of a 
 brook! Here was a day's work cut out for us. Mean- 
 w^hile, our emigrant associates kept on their way, and so 
 vigorously did they urge forward their powerful oxen, 
 that, with the broken axle-tree and other calamities, it 
 was full a w^eek before we overtook them; when at length 
 we discovered them, one afternoon, crawling quietly 
 along the sandy brink of the Platte. But meanwhile 
 various incidents occurred to ourselves. 
 
 It was probable that at this stage of our journey the 
 Pawnees would attempt to rob us. We began, therefore, 
 to stand guard in turn, dividing the night into three 
 watches, and appointing two men for each. Delorier 
 and I held guard together. We did not march with mili- 
 tary precision to and fro before the tents; our discipline 
 was by no means so stringent and rigid. We wrapped 
 ourselves in our blankets and sat down by the fire; and 
 Delorier, combining his culinary functions with his duties 
 as sentinel, employed himself in boiling the head of an 
 antelope for our morning's repast. Yet we were models 
 of vigilance in comparison with some of the party; for 
 the ordinary practice of the guard was to establish him- 
 self in the most comfortable posture he could; lay his 
 rifle on the ground, and enveloping his nose in his blanket, 
 meditate on his mistress, or whatever subject best pleased 
 him. This is all well enough when among Indians, who 
 do not habitually proceed farther in their hostility than 
 robbing travellers of their horses and mules, though, in- 
 deed, a Pawnee's forbearance is not always to be trusted; 
 but in certain regions farther to the west the guard must 
 beware how he exposes his person to the light of the fire, 
 lest perchance some keen-eyed skulking marksman should 
 let fly a bullet or an arrow from amid the darkness. 
 
 Among various tales that circulated around our camp- 
 fire was a rather curious one, told by Boisverd, and not 
 inappropriate here. Boisverd was trapping with several 
 companions on the skirts of the Blackfoot country. The 
 
56 THE OREGON TRAIL 
 
 man on guard, well-knowing that it behooved him to put 
 forth his utmost precaution, kept aloof from the fire- 
 light, and sat watching intently on all sides. At length 
 he was aware of a dark, crouching figure, stealing noise- 
 lessly into the circle of the light. He hastily cocked his 
 rifle, but the sharp chck of the lock caught the ear of 
 Blackfoot, whose senses were all on the alert. Raising 
 his arrow, already fitted to the string, he shot it in the 
 direction of the sound. So sure was his aim, that he drove 
 it through the throat of the unfortunate guard, and then, 
 with a loud 3'ell, bounded from the camp. 
 
 As I fooked at the partner of my watch, puflSng and 
 blowing over his fire, it occurred to me that he might not 
 prove the most efficient auxiliary in time of trouble. 
 
 "Delorier,'' said I, "would you run away if the Pawnees 
 should fire at us?" 
 
 "Ah! oui, oui, Monsieur!" he replied very decisively. 
 
 I did not doubt the fact, but was a little surprised at 
 the frankness of the confession. 
 
 At this instant a most whimsical variety of voices — 
 barks, howls, yelps, and whines — all mingled as it were 
 together, sounded from the prairie , not far off, as if a 
 whole conclave of wolves of every age and sex were 
 assembled there. Delorier looked up from his work with 
 a laugh, and began to imitate this curious medley of 
 sounds with a most ludicrous accuracy. At this they 
 were repeated with redoubled emphasis, the musician 
 being apparently indignant at the successful efforts of a 
 rival. They all proceeded from the throat of one little 
 wolf, not larger than a spaniel, seated by himself at some 
 distance. He was of the species called the prairie-wolf; 
 a grim-visaged, but harmless little brute, whose worst 
 propensity is creeping among horses and gnawing the 
 ropes of raw-hide by which they are picketed around the 
 camp. But other beasts roam the prairies far more for- 
 midable in aspect and in character. These are the large 
 white and gray wolves, whose deep howl we heard at 
 intervals from far and near. 
 
 At last I fell into a doze, and awaking from it, found 
 Delorier fast asleep. Scandalized by this breach of dis- 
 cipline, I was about to stimulate his vigilance by stirring 
 
THE PLATTE AND THE DESERT 57 
 
 him with the stock of my rifle; but compassion prevaihng, 
 I determined to let him sleep awhile, and then arouse him 
 and administer a suitable reproof for such a forgetfulness 
 of duty. Now and then I walked the rounds among the 
 silent horses to see that all was right. The night was 
 chill, damp, and dark, the dank grass bending under the 
 icy dew-drops. At the distance of a rod or two the tents 
 were invisible, and nothing could be seen but the obscure 
 figures of the horses, deeply breathing, and restlessly start- 
 ing as they slept, or still slowly champing the grass. Far 
 off, beyond the black outline of the prairie, there was a 
 ruddy light, gradually increasing like the glow of a con- 
 flagration; until at length the broad disk of the moon, 
 blood-red, and vastly magnified by the vapors, rose slowly 
 upon the darkness, flecked by one or two little clouds, 
 and as the light poured over the gloomy plain, a fierce 
 and stern howl, close at hand, seemed to greet it as an 
 unwelcome intruder. There was something impressive 
 and awful in the place and the hour; for I and the beasts 
 were all that had consciousness for many a league around. 
 
 Some days elapsed, and brought us near the Platte. 
 Two men on horseback approached us one morning, and 
 v*^e watched them with the curiosity and interest that, 
 upon the solitude of the plains, such an encounter always 
 excites. They were evidently whites, from their mode 
 of riding, though, contrary to the usage of that region, 
 neither of them carried a rifle. 
 
 " Fools ! " remarked Henry Chatillon, " to ride that way 
 on the prairie; Pawnee find them — then they catch it." 
 
 Pawnee had found them, and they had come very near 
 ^'catching it"; indeed, nothing saved them from trouble 
 but the approach of our party. Shaw and I knew one of 
 them; a man named Turner, whom we had seen at West- 
 port. He and his companion belonged to an emigrant 
 party encamped a few miles in advance, and had returned 
 to look for some stray oxen, leaving their rifles, with 
 characteristic rashness or ignorance, behind them. Their 
 neglect had nearly cost them dear; for just before we 
 came up half a dozen Indians approached, and seeing 
 them apparently defenceless, one of the rascals seized 
 the bridle of Turner's fine horse, and ordered him to 
 
58 THE OREGON TRAIL 
 
 dismount. Turner was wholly unarmed; but the other 
 jerked a little revolving pistol out of his pocket, at which 
 the Pawnee recoiled; and just then some of our men 
 appearing in the distance, the whole party whipped their 
 rugged little horses, and made off. In no way daunted, 
 Turner foolishly persisting in going forward. 
 
 Long after leaving him, and late that afternoon, in the 
 midst of a gloomy and barren prairie, we came suddenly 
 upon the great Pawnee trail, leading from their villages 
 on the Platte to their war and hunting grounds to the 
 southward. Here every summer pass the motley con- 
 course; thousands of savages, men, women, and children, 
 horses and mules, laden with their weapons and imple- 
 ments, and an innumerable multitude of unruly wolfish 
 dogs, who have not acquired the civihzed accomplish- 
 ment of barking, but howl like their wild cousins of the 
 prairie. 
 
 The permanent winter villages of the Pawnees stand 
 on the lower Platte, but throughout the summer the 
 greater part of the inhabitants are wandering over the 
 plains, a treacherous, cowardly banditti who, by a thou- 
 sand acts of pihage and murder, have deserved summary 
 chastisement at the hands of government. Last year a 
 Dahcotah warrior performed a signal exploit at one of 
 these villages. He approached it alone, in the middle of 
 a dark night, and clambering up the outside of one of the 
 lodges, which are in the form of a half-sphere, he looked 
 in at the round hole made at the top for the escape of 
 smoke. The dusky light from the smouldering embers 
 showed him the forms of the sleeping inmates; and drop- 
 ping lightly through the opening, he unsheathed his knife, 
 and stirring the fire, coolly selected his victims. One by 
 one, he stabbed and scalped them; when a child sud- 
 denly awoke and screamed. He rushed from the lodge, 
 yelled a Sioux war-cry, shouted his name in triumph and 
 defiance, and in a moment had darted out upon the dark 
 prairie, leaving the whole village behind him in a tumult, 
 with the howling and baying of dogs, the screams of 
 women, and the yells of the enraged warriors. 
 
 Our friend Kearsley, as we learned on rejoining him, 
 signalized himself by a less bloody achievement. He 
 
THE PLATTE AND THE DESERT 59 
 
 and his men were good woodsmen, and well skilled in the 
 use of the rifle; but found themselves wholly out of their 
 element on the prairie. None of them had ever seen a 
 buffalo; and they had very vague conceptions of his na- 
 ture and appearance. On the day after they reached the 
 Platte, looking toward a distant swell, they beheld a 
 multitude of little black specks in motion upon its surface. 
 
 "Take your rifles, bo3^s,'' said Kearsle}^, "and we'll 
 have fresh meat for supper.'' This inducement was quite 
 sufficient. The ten men left their wagons, and set out in 
 hot haste, some on horseback and some on foot, in pursuit 
 of the supposed buffalo. Meanwhile a high grassy ridge 
 shut the game from view; but mounting it after half an 
 hour's running and riding, they found themselves sud- 
 denly confronted by about thirty mounted Pawnees ! The 
 amazement and consternation were mutual. Having noth- 
 ing but their bows and arrows, the Indians thought their 
 hour was come, and the fate that they were no doubt con- 
 scious of richly deserving, about to overtake them. So 
 they began, one and all, to shout forth the most cordial 
 salutations of friendship, running up with extreme earnest- 
 ness to shake hands with the Missourians, who were as 
 much rejoiced as they were to escape the expected con- 
 flict. 
 
 A low undulating line of sand-hills bounded the hori- 
 zon before us. That day we rode ten consecutive hours, 
 and it was dusk before w^e entered the hollows and gorges 
 of these gloomy little hills. At length we gained the 
 summit, and the long-expected valley of the Platte lay 
 before us. We all drew rein, and gathering in a knot on 
 the crest of the hill, sat joyfully looking clown upon the 
 prospect. It was right welcome; strange, too, and strik- 
 ing to the imagination, and yet it had not one picturesque 
 or beautiful feature; nor had it any of the features of 
 grandeur, other than its vast extent, its solitude, and its 
 wildness. For league after league, a plain as level as a 
 frozen lake was outspread beneath us; here and there 
 the Platte, divided into a dozen thread-like sluices, was 
 traversing it, and an occasional clump of wood, rising in 
 the midst like a shadowy island, relieved the monotony of 
 the waste. No living thing was moving throughout the 
 
60 THE OREGON TRAIL 
 
 vast landscape, except the lizards that darted over the 
 sand and through the rank grass and prickly -pear, just 
 at our feet. And yet stem and wild associations gave a 
 singular interest to the view; for here each man lives by 
 the strength of his arm and the valor of his heart. Here 
 society is reduced to its original elements, the whole 
 fabric of art and conventionality is struck rudely to pieces, 
 and men find themselves suddenly brought back to the 
 wants and resources of their original natures. 
 
 We had passed the more toilsome and monotonous 
 part of the journey; but four hundred miles still inter- 
 vened between us and Fort Laramie; and to reach that 
 point cost us the travel of three additional weeks. Dur- 
 ing the whole of this time we were passing up the centre 
 of a long narrow sandy plain, reaching, like an out- 
 stretched belt, nearly to the Rocky Mountains. Two 
 lines of sand-hills, broken often into the wildest and 
 most fantastic forms, flanked the valley at the distance 
 of a mile or two on the right and left ; while beyond them 
 lay a barren, trackless waste — "The Great American 
 Desert " — extending for hundreds of miles to the Arkansas 
 on the one side, and the Missouri on the other. Before 
 us and behind us the level monotony of the plain was 
 unbroken as far as the eye could reach. Sometimes it 
 glared in the sun, an expanse of hot, bare sand; some- 
 times it was veiled by long coarse grass. Huge skulls and 
 whitening bones of buffalo were scattered everywhere; 
 the ground was tracked by myriads of them, and often 
 covered with the circular indentations where the bulls 
 had wallowed in the hot weather. From every gorge and 
 ravine opening from the hills descended deep, well-worn 
 paths, where the buffalo issue twice a day in regular pro- 
 cession down to drink in the Platte. The river itself runs 
 through the midst, a thin sheet of rapid, turbid water, 
 half a mile wide, and scarce two feet deep. Its low banks, 
 for the most part without a bush or a tree, are of loose 
 sand, with which the stream is so charged that it grates 
 on the teeth in drinking. The naked landscape is of itself 
 dreary and monotonous enough; and yet the wild beasts 
 and wild men that frequent the valley of the Platte make 
 it a scene of interest and excitement to the traveller. Of 
 
THE PLATTE AND THE DESERT 61 
 
 those who have journeyed there scarce one, perhaps, fails 
 to look back with fond regret to his horse and his rifle. 
 
 Early in the morning after we reached the Platte, a 
 long procession of squalid savages approached our camp. 
 Each was on foot, leading his horse by a rope of bull hides. 
 His attire consisted merely of a scant}^ cincture, and an 
 old buffalo-robe, tattered and begrimed by use, which 
 hung over his shoulders. His head was close-shaven, 
 except a ridge of hair reaching over the crown frorft the 
 centre of the forehead, very much like the long bristles 
 on the back of a hyena, and he carried his bow and ar- 
 rows in his hand, while his meagre little horse was laden 
 with dried buffalo-meat, the produce of his hunting. 
 Such were the first specimens that we met — and very 
 indifferent ones they were — of the genuine savages of the 
 prairie. 
 
 They were the Pawnees whom Kearsley had encoun- 
 tered the day before, and belonged to a large hunting 
 party, known to be ranging the prairie in the vicinity. 
 They strode rapidly past, within a furlong of our tents, 
 not pausing or looking toward us, after the manner of 
 Indians when meditating mischief or conscious of ill 
 desert. I went out and met them; and had an amicable 
 conference with the chief, presenting him with half a 
 pound of tobacco, at which unmerited bounty he ex- 
 pressed much gratification. These fellows, or some of 
 their companions, had committed a dastardly outrage 
 upon an emigrant party in advance of us. Two men, 
 out on horseback at a distance, were seized by them, but 
 lashing their horses, they broke loose and fled. At this 
 the Pawnees raised the 3^ell and shot at them, transfixing 
 the hindermost through the back with several arrows, 
 while his companion galloped away and brought in the 
 news to his party. The panic-stricken emigrants re- 
 mained for several days in camp, not daring even to send 
 out in quest of the dead body. 
 
 The reader will recollect Turner, the man whose nar- 
 row escape was mentioned not long since. We heard 
 that the men, whom the entreaties of his wife induced to 
 go in search of him, found him leisurely driving along 
 his recovered oxen, and whistling in utter contempt of 
 
62 THE OREGON TRAIL 
 
 the Pawnee nation. His party was encamped within 
 two miles of us; but we passed them that morning, while 
 the men were driving in the oxen, and the women pack- 
 ing their domestic utensils and their numerous offspring 
 in the spacious patriarchal wagons. As we looked back 
 we saw their caravan dragging its slow length along the 
 plain; wearily toihng on its way to found new empires in 
 the West. 
 
 Our New England chmate is mild and equable com- 
 pared with that of the Platte. This very morning, for 
 instance, was close and sultry, the sun rising with a faint 
 oppressive heat; when suddenly darkness gathered in the 
 west, and a furious blast of sleet and hail drove full in our 
 faces, icy cold, and urged with such demoniac vehemence 
 that it felt like a storm of needles. It was curious to see 
 the horses; they faced about in extreme displeasure, hold- 
 ing their tails like whipped dogs, and shivering as the 
 angry gusts, howling louder than a concert of wolves, 
 swept over us. Wright's long train of mules came sweep- 
 ing round before the storm, like a flight of broAvn snow- 
 birds driven by a winter tempest. Thus we all remained 
 stationary for some minutes, crouching close to our 
 horses' necks, much too surly to speak, though once the 
 Captain looked up from between the collars of his coat, 
 his face blood-red, and the muscles of his mouth con- 
 tracted by the cold into a most ludicrous grin of agony. 
 He grumbled something that sounded like a curse, di- 
 rected, as we believed, against the unhappy hour when 
 he had first thought of leaving home. The thing was too 
 good to last long; and the instant the puffs of wind sub- 
 sided we erected our tents, and remained in camp for the 
 rest of a gloomy and lowering day. The emigrants also 
 encamped near at hand. We, being first on the ground, 
 had appropriated all the wood within reach; so that our 
 fire alone blazed cheerily. Around it soon gathered a 
 group of uncouth figures, shivering in the drizzling rain. 
 Conspicuous among them were two or three of the half- 
 savage men who spend their reckless lives in trapping 
 among the Rocky Mountains, or in trading for the Fur 
 Company in the Indian villages. They were all of Cana- 
 dian extraction; their hard, weather-beaten faces and 
 
THE BUFFALO 63 
 
 bushy moustaches looked out from beneath the hoods of 
 their white capotes with a bad and brutish expression^ 
 as if their owner might be the wilhng agent of any villany. 
 And such in fact is the character of many of these men. 
 
 On the day following we overtook Kearsley's wagons, 
 and thenceforward; for a week or two, we were fellow- 
 travellers. One good effect, at least, resulted from the 
 alliance; it materially diminished the serious fatigues of 
 standing guard; for the party being now more numerous, 
 there were longer intervals between each man's turns of 
 duty. 
 
 CHAPTER VII 
 
 THE BUFFALO 
 
 " Twice twenty leagues 
 Beyond remotest smoke of hunter's camp, 
 Roams the majestic brute, in herds that shake 
 The earth with thundering steps." — Beyant. 
 
 Four days on the Platte, and yet no buffalo! Last 
 year's signs of them were provokingiy abundant; and 
 wood being extremely scarce, we found an admirable 
 substitute in the hois de vache, which burns exactly like 
 peat, producting no unpleasant effects. The wagons one 
 morning had left the camp; Shaw and I were already on 
 horseback, but Henry Chatillon still sat cross-legged by 
 the dead embers of the fire, playing pensively with the 
 lock of his rifle, while his sturdy Wyandot pony stood 
 quietly behind him, looking over his head. At last he 
 got up, patted the neck of the pony (whom, from an ex- 
 aggerated appreciation of his merits, he had christened 
 "Five Hundred Dollar"), and then mounted with a mel- 
 ancholy air. 
 
 ''What is it, Henry?" 
 
 "Ah, I feel lonesome; I never been here before but I 
 see away yonder over the buttes, and down there on the 
 prairie, black — all black with buffalo ! " 
 
 In the afternoon he and I left the party in search of an 
 antelope; until at the distance of a mile or two on the 
 right, the tall white wagons and the little black specks 
 
64 THE OREGON TRAIL 
 
 of horsemen were just visible, so slowly advancing that 
 they seemed motionless; and far on the left rose the 
 broken line of scorched, desolate sand-hills. The vast 
 plain waved with tall rank grass that swept our horses' 
 bellies; it swayed to and fro in billovv^s with the light 
 breeze, and far and near antelope and wolves were mov- 
 ing through it, the hairy backs of the latter alternately 
 appearing and disappearing as they bounded awkwardly 
 along; while the antelope, with the simple curiosity pe- 
 culiar to them, would often approach us closely, their 
 little horns and white throats just visible above the grass 
 tops, as they gazed eagerly at us with their round black 
 €yes. 
 
 I dismounted and amused myself with firing at the 
 W'Olves. Henry attentively scrutinized the surrounding 
 landscape; at length he gave a shout, and called on me to 
 mount again, pointing in the direction of the sand-hills. 
 A mile and a half from us, two minute black specks 
 slowly traversed the face of one of the bare glaring de- 
 clivities, and disappeared behind the summit. " Let us 
 go ! " cried Henry, belaboring the sides of '' Five Hundred 
 Dollar " ; and I following in his wakq, we galloped rapidly 
 through the rank grass toward the base of the hills. 
 
 From one of their openings descended a deep ravine, 
 widening as it issued on the prairie. We entered it, and 
 galloping up, in a moment were surrounded by the bleak 
 sand-hills. Half of their steep sides were bare; the rest 
 were scantily clothed with clumps of grass and various 
 uncouth plants, conspicuous among which appeared the 
 reptile-like prickly-pear. They were gashed with num- 
 berless ravines; ancl as the sky had suddenly darkened, 
 and a cold gusty wind arisen, the strange shrubs and the 
 dreary hills looked doubly wild and desolate. But Henry's 
 face was all eagerness. He tore off a little hair from the 
 piece of buffalo-robe under his saddle, and threw it up, 
 to show the course of the wind. It blew directly before 
 us. The game were therefore to windward, and it was 
 necessary to make our best speed to get round them. 
 
 We scrambled from this ravine, and galloping away 
 through the hollows, soon found another, winding like a 
 snake among the hills, and so deep that it completely 
 
THE BUFFALO 65 
 
 concealed us. We rode up the bottom of it, glancing 
 through the shrubbery at its edge, till Henry abruptly 
 jerked his rein and slid out of his saddle. Full a quarter 
 of a mile distant, on the outline of the farthest hill, a long 
 procession of buffalo were walking, in Indian file, with 
 the utmost gravity and deliberation; then more appeared, 
 clambering from a hollow not far off, and ascending, one 
 behind the other, the grassy slope of another hill; then a 
 shaggy head and a pair of short broken horns appeared 
 issuing out of a ravine close at hand, and with a slow, 
 stately step, one by one, the enormous brutes came into 
 view, taking their way across the valley, wholly uncon- 
 scious of an enemy. In a moment Henry was w^orming 
 his way, l3^ing fiat on the ground, through grass and 
 prickly -pears, toward his unsuspecting victims. He had 
 with him both my rifle and his own. He was soon out of 
 sight, and still the buffalo kept issuing into the valley. 
 For a long time all was silent; I sat holding his horse and 
 wondering what he was about, when suddenly, in rapid 
 succession, came the sharp reports of the two rifles, and 
 the whole line of buffalo, quickening their pace into a 
 clumsy trot, gradually disappeared over the ridge of the 
 hill. Henry rose to his feet, and stood looking after them. 
 
 "You have missed them," said I. 
 
 "Yes," said Henry; "let us go." He descended into 
 the ravine, loaded the rifles, and mounted his horse. 
 
 We rode up the hifl after the buffalo. The herd was 
 out of sight when we reached the top, but lying on the 
 grass, not far off, was one quite lifeless, and another 
 violently struggling in the death agony. 
 
 " You see I miss him ! " remarked Henry. He had fired 
 from a distance of more than a hundred and fifty yards, 
 and both balls had passed through the lungs; the true 
 mark in shooting buffalo. 
 
 The darkness increased, and a driving storm came on. 
 Tying our horses to the horns of the victims, Henry be- 
 gan the bloody work of dissection, slashing away with the 
 science of a connoisseur, while I vainly endeavored to 
 imitate him. Old Hendrick recoiled with horror and in- 
 dignation when I endeavored to tie the meat to the 
 strings of rawhide, always carried for this purpose, dan- 
 
66 THE OREGON TRAIL 
 
 gling at the back of the saddle. After some difficulty we 
 overcame his scruples; and heavily burdened with the 
 more eligible portions of the buffalo, we set out on our 
 return. Scarcely had we emerged from the labyrinth of 
 gorges and ravines, and issued upon the open prairie, 
 when the prickling sleet came driving, gust upon gust, 
 directly in our faces. It was strangely dark, though 
 wanting still an hour of sunset. The freezing storm soon 
 penetrated to the skin, but the uneasy trot of our heavy- 
 gaited horses kept us warm enough, as we forced them 
 unwillingly in the teeth of the sleet and rain by the power- 
 ful suasion of our Indian whips. The prairie in this place 
 was hard and level. A flourishing colony of prairie-dogs 
 had burrowed into it in every direction, and the little 
 mounds of fresh earth around their holes were about as 
 numerous as the hihs in a cornfield; but not a yelp was 
 to be heard; not the nose of a single citizen was visible; 
 all had retired to the depths of their burrows, and we 
 envied them their dry and comfortable habitations. An 
 hour's hard riding showed us our tent dimly looming 
 through the storm, one side puffed out by the force of the 
 wind, and the other collapsed in proportion, while the 
 disconsolate horses stood shivering close around, and the 
 wind kept up a dismal whistling in the boughs of three 
 old half-dead trees above. Shaw, like a patriarch, sat on 
 his saddle in the entrance, with a pipe in his mouth, and 
 his arms folded, contemplating, with cool satisfaction, 
 the piles of meat that we flung on the ground before him. 
 A dark and dreary night succeeded; but the sun rose with 
 a heat so sultry and languid that the Captain excused 
 himself on that account from w^aylaying an old buffalo- 
 bull, w^ho with stupid gravity was walking over the 
 prairie to drink at the river. So much for the climate 
 of the Platte! 
 
 But it was not the weather alone that had produced 
 this sudden abatement of the sportsman-like zeal which 
 the Captain had always professed. He had been out on 
 the afternoon before, together with several members of 
 his party; but their hunting was attended with no other 
 result than the loss of one of their best horses, severely 
 injured by Sorel, in vainly chasing a wounded bull. The 
 
THE BUFFALO 67 
 
 Captain, whose ideas of hard riding were all derived from 
 transatlantic sources, expressed the utmost amazement 
 at the feats of Sorel, who went leaping ravines, and dash- 
 ing at full speed up and down the sides of precipitous hills, 
 lashing his horse with the recklessness of a Rocky Moun- 
 tain rider. Unfortunately for the poor animal, he was 
 the property of R., against whom Sorel entertained an 
 unbounded aversion. The Captain himself, it seemed, 
 had also attempted to " run " a buffalo, but though a good 
 and practised horseman, he had soon given over the at- 
 tempt, being astonished and utterly disgusted at the 
 nature of the ground he was required to ride over. 
 
 Nothing unusual occurred on that day; but on the fol- 
 lowing morning, Henry Chatillon, looking over the ocean- 
 like expanse, saw near the foot of the distant hills some- 
 thing that looked like a band of buffalo. He was not sure, 
 he said, but at all events, if they were buffalo, there was 
 a fine chance for a race. Shaw and I at once determined 
 to try the speed of our horses. 
 
 "Come, Captain; we'll see which can ride hardest, a 
 Yankee or an Irishman.'' 
 
 But the Captain maintained a grave and austere coun- 
 tenanoe. He mounted his led horse, however, though 
 very slowly; and we set out at a trot. The game ap- 
 peared about three miles distant. As we proceeded, the 
 Captain made various remarks of doubt and indecision; 
 and at length declared he would have nothing to do with 
 such a break-neck business; protesting that he had ridden 
 plenty of steeple-chases in his day, but he never knew 
 what riding was till he found himself behind a band of 
 buffalo day before yesterday. "I am convinced," said 
 the Captain, ''that 'running' is out of the question.'^ 
 Take my advice now, and don't attempt it. It's dan- 
 gerous, and of no use at all." 
 
 "Then why did you come out with us? AVhat do you 
 mean to do?" 
 
 *The method of hunting called "running" consists in attacking 
 the buffalo on horseback, and shooting him with bullets or arrows 
 when at full speed. In "approaching" the hunter conceals him- 
 self, and crawls on the ground toward the game, or lies in wait to 
 kill them. 
 
68 THE OREGON TRAIL 
 
 ^'1 shall ^ approach/ ^' replied the Captain. 
 
 "You don't mean to 'approach' with your pistols, do 
 you? We have all of us left our rifles in the wagons." 
 
 The Captain seemed staggered at this suggestion. In 
 his characteristic indecision at setting out, pistols, rifles, 
 "running," and "approaching" were mingled in an in- 
 extricable medley in his brain. He trotted on in silence 
 between us for a while; but at length he dropped behind, 
 and slowly walked his horse back to rejoin the party. 
 Shaw and I kept on; when lo! as we advanced, the band 
 of buffalo were transformed into certain clumps of tall 
 bushes, dotting the prairie for a considerable distance. 
 At this ludicrous termination of our chase, we followed 
 the example of our late ally, and turned back toward the 
 party. We were skirting the brink of a deep ravine, 
 when we saw Henry and the broad-chested pony coming 
 toward us at a gallop. 
 
 "Here's old Papin and Frederic, down from Fort 
 Laramie!" shouted Henry, long before he came up. 
 We had for some days expected this encounter. Papin 
 was the bourgeois of Fort Laramie. He had come down 
 the river with the buffalo-robes and the beaver, the prod- 
 uce of the last winter's trading. I had among our bag- 
 gage a letter which I wished to commit to their hands; 
 so requesting Henry to detain the boats if he could until 
 my return, I set out after the wagons. They were about 
 four miles in advance. In half an hour I overtook them, 
 got the letter, trotted back upon the trail, and looking 
 carefully as I rode, saw a patch of broken, storm-blasted 
 trees, and moving near them some little black specks 
 like men and horses. Arriving at the place, I found a 
 strange assembly. The boats, eleven in number, deep- 
 laden with the skins, hugged close to the shore to escape 
 being borne down by the swift current. The rowers, 
 swarthy ignoble Mexicans, turned their brutish faces up- 
 ward to look as I reached the bank. Papin sat in the mid- 
 dle of one of the boats, upon the canvas covering that 
 protected the robes. He was a stout, robust fellow, with 
 a little gray eye that had a peculiarly sly twinkle. " Fred- 
 eric," also, stretched his tall raw-boned proportions close 
 by the bourgeois, and "mountain men" completed the 
 
THE BUFFALO 69 
 
 group ; some lounging in the boats, some strolling on shore ; 
 some attired in gayly painted buffalo-robes, like Indian 
 dandies; some with hair saturated with red paint, and 
 beplastered with glue to their temples; and one bedaubed 
 with vermilion upon the forehead and each cheek. They 
 were a mongrel race; yet the French blood seemed to 
 l^redominate : in a few, indeed, might be seen the black, 
 snaky eye of the Indian half-breed, and one and all, they 
 seemed to aim at assimilating themselves to their savage 
 associates. 
 
 I shook hands with the bourgeois, and delivered the 
 letter: then the boats swung round into the stream and 
 floated awa}^ They had reason for haste, for already the 
 voyage from Fort Laramie had occupied a full month, 
 and the river was growing daily more shallow. Fifty 
 times a day the boats had been aground: indeed, those 
 who navigate the Platte invariably spend half their time 
 upon sand-bars. Two of these boats, the property of 
 private traders, afterward separating from the rest, got 
 hopelessly involved in the shallows, not very far from 
 the Pawnee villages, and were soon surrounded by a 
 swarm of the inhabitants. They carried off everything 
 that they considered valuable, including most of the robes; 
 and ^amused themselves by tying up the men left on guard 
 and soundly whipping them with sticks. 
 
 We encamped that night upon the bank of the river. 
 Among the emigrants there was an overgrown boy, some 
 eighteen years old, with a head as round and about as 
 large as a pumpkin, and fever-and-ague fits had dyed his 
 face of a corresponding color. He wore an old white hat, 
 tied under his chin with a handkerchief; his body was 
 short and stout', but his legs of disproportioned and ap- 
 palling length. I observed him at sunset, breasting the 
 hill with gigantic strides, and standing against the sky 
 on the summit, like a colossal pair of tongs. In a moment 
 after, we heard him screaming frantically behind the ridge, 
 and nothing doubting that he was in the clutches of In- 
 dians or grizzly bears, some of the party caught up their 
 rifles and ran to the rescue. His outcries, however, 
 proved but an ebullition of jo3^ous excitement; he had 
 chased two little wolf pups to their burrow, and he was on 
 
70 THE OREGON TRAIL 
 
 his knees, grubbing away like a dog at the mouth of the 
 hole, to get at them. 
 
 Before morning he caused more serious disquiet in the 
 camp. It was his turn to hold the middle-guard; but no 
 sooner was he called up than he coolly arranged a pair of 
 saddle-bags under a wagon, laid his head upon them, 
 closed his eyes, opened his mouth, and fell asleep. The 
 guard on our side of the camp, thinking it no part of his 
 duty to look after the cattle of the emigrants, contented 
 himself with watching our own horses and mules; the 
 wolves, he said, were unusually noisy; but still no mis- 
 chief was anticipated until the sun rose, and not a hoof 
 or horn was in sight ! The cattle were gone ! While Tom 
 was quietly slumbering, the wolves had driven them 
 away. 
 
 Then we reaped the fruits of R.'s precious plan of 
 travelling in company with emigrants. To leave them in 
 their distress was not to be thought of, and we felt bound 
 to wait until the cattle could be searched for, and, if 
 possible, recovered. But the reader may be curious to 
 know what punishment awaited the faithless Tom. By 
 the wholesome law of the prairie, he who falls asleep on 
 guard is condemned to walk all day, leading his horse by 
 the bridle, and we found much fault with our companions 
 for not enforcing such a sentence on the offender. Never- 
 theless, had he been of our own party I have no doubt 
 that he would in like manner have escaped scot-free. But 
 the emigrants went farther than mere forbearance: they 
 decreed that since Tom couldn't stand guard without 
 falling asleep, he shouldn't stand guard at all, and hence- 
 forward his slumbers were unbroken. Establishing such 
 a premium on drowsiness could have no very beneficial 
 effect upon the vigilance of our sentinels; for it is far from 
 agreeable, after riding from sunrise to sunset, to feel your 
 slumbers interrupted by the butt of a rifle nudging your 
 side, and a sleepy voice growling in your ear that you 
 must get up, to shiver and freeze for three weary hours 
 at midnight. 
 
 " Buffalo ! buffalo ! " It was but a grim old bull, roam- 
 ing the prairie by himself in misanthropic seclusion; but 
 there might be more behind the hills. Dreading the mo- 
 
THE BUFFALO 71 
 
 notony and languor of the camp, Shaw and I saddled 
 our horses, buckled our holsters m then' places, and set 
 out with Henry Chatillon in search of the game. Henry, 
 not intending to take part in the chase, but merely con- 
 ducting us, carried his rifle with him, while we left ours 
 behind as incumbrances. We rode for some five or six 
 miles, and saw no living thing but wolves, snakes, and 
 prairie-dogs. 
 
 ''This won't do at all,'' said Shaw. 
 
 "What won't do?" 
 
 "There's no wood about here to make a litter for the 
 wounded man: I have an idea that one of us will need 
 something of the sort before the day is over." 
 
 There was some foundation for such an apprehension, 
 for the ground was none of the best for a race, and grew 
 worse continually as we proceeded; indeed it soon became 
 desperately bad, consisting of abrupt hills and deep hol- 
 lows, cut by frequent ravines not easy to pass. At length, 
 a mile in advance, we saw a band of bulls. Some were 
 scattered grazing over a green declivity, while the rest 
 were crowcled more densely together in the wide hollow 
 below. Making a circuit, to keep out of sight, we rode 
 toward them, until we ascended a hill, within a furlong of 
 them, be3^ond which nothing intervened that could pos- 
 sibly screen us from their view. We dismounted behind 
 the ridge just out of sight, drew our saddle-girths, ex- 
 amined our pistols, and mounting again, rode over the 
 hill, and descended at a canter toward them, bending close 
 to our horses' necks. Instantly they took the alarm; those 
 on the hih descended; those below gathered into a mass, 
 and the whole got in motion, shouldering each other along 
 at a clumsy gallop. We followed, spurring our horses to 
 full speed; and as the herd rushed, crowding and trampling 
 in terror through an opening in the hills, we were close at 
 their heels, half suffocated by the clouds of dust. But as 
 we drew near their alarm and speed increased ; our horses 
 showed signs of the utmost fear, bounding violently aside 
 as we approached, and refusing to enter among the herd. 
 The buffalo now broke into several small bodies, scamper- 
 ing over the hills in different directions, and I lost sight 
 of Shaw; neither of us knew where the other had gone. 
 
72 THE OREGON TRAIL 
 
 Old Pontiac ran like a frantic elephant up hill and down 
 hill, his ponderous hoofs striking the prairie like sledge- 
 hammers. He showed a curious mixture of eagerness and 
 terror, straining to overtake the panic-stricken herd, but 
 constantly recoiling in dismay as we drew near. The fugi- 
 tives, indeed, offered no very attractive spectacle, with 
 their enormous size and w^eight, their shaggy manes and 
 the tattered remnants of their last winter's hair covering 
 their backs in irregular shreds and patches, and flying off 
 in the wind as they ran. At length I urged my horse close 
 behind a bull, and after trying in vain, by blows and spur- 
 ring, to bring him alongside, I shot a bullet into the buffalo 
 from this disadvantageous position. At the report, Pon- 
 tiac swerved so much that I was again thrown a little be- 
 hind the game. The bullet entering too much in the rear^ 
 failed to disable the bull, for a buffalo requires to be shot 
 at particular points, or he will certainly escape. The herd 
 ran up a hill, and I follow^ed in pursuit. As Pontiac rushed 
 headlong dow^n on the other side, I saw Shaw and Henry 
 descending the hollow on the right at a leisurely gaUop; 
 and in front, the buffalo were just disappearing behind the 
 crest of the next hill, their short tails erect, and their hoofs 
 twinkling through a cloud of dust. 
 
 At that moment, I heard Shaw and Henry shouting to 
 me; but the muscles of a stronger arm than mine could not 
 have checked at once the furious course of Pontiac, whose 
 mouth was as insensible as leather. Added to this, I rode 
 him that morning with a common snaffle, having the day 
 before, for the benefit of my other horse, unbuckled from 
 my bridle the curb w^hich I ordinarily used. A stronger and 
 hardier brute never trod the prairie ; but the novel sight of 
 the buffalo filled him with terror, and when at full speed 
 he was almost uncontrollable. Gaining the top of the 
 ridge, I saw nothing of the buffalo; they had all vanished 
 amid the intricacies of the hills and hollows. Reloading 
 my pistols, in the best way I could, I galloped on until I 
 saw them again scuttling along at the base of the hill, their 
 panic somewhat abated. Down went old Pontiac among 
 them, scattering them to the right and left, and then we 
 had another long chase. About a dozen buhs were before 
 us, scouring over the hills, rushing down the decfivities 
 
THE BUFFALO 73 
 
 with tremendous weight and impetuosity^ and then labor- 
 ing with a weary gallop upward. Still, Pontiac, in spite 
 of spurring and beating, would not close with them. One 
 bull at length fell a little behind the rest, and by dint of 
 much effort, I urged my horse within six or eight yards of 
 his side. His back was darkened with sweat :he was pant- 
 ing heavily, while his tongue lolled out a foot from his 
 jaws. Gradually I came up abreast of him, urging Pontiac 
 with leg and rein nearer to his side, when suddenly he did 
 wdiat buffalo in such circumstances will always do; he 
 slackened his gallop, and turning toward us, with an aspect 
 of mingled rage and distress, lowered his huge shaggy head 
 for a charge. Pontiac, with a snort, leaped aside in terror, 
 nearly throwing me to the ground, as I was wholly unpre- 
 pared for such an evolution. I raised my pistol in a pas- 
 sion to strike him on the head, but thinking better of it, 
 fired the bullet after the bull, who had resumed his flight ; 
 then drew rein, and determined to rejoin my companions. 
 It was high time. The breath blew hard from Pontiac's 
 nostrils, and the sweat rolled in big drops down his sides; 
 I myself felt as if drenched in warm water. Pledging my- 
 self (and I redeemed the pledge) to take my revenge at a 
 future opportunity, I looked around for some indications 
 to show me where I was, and what course I ought to pur- 
 sue; I might as well have looked for landmarks in the 
 midst of the ocean. How many miles I had run, or in 
 what direction, I had no idea; and around me the prairie 
 ^vas rolling in steep swells and pitches, without a single 
 distinctive feature to guide me. I had a little compass 
 hung at m}^ neck; and ignorant that the Platte at this 
 point diverged considerably from its easterly course, I 
 thought that by keeping to the northward I should cer- 
 tainly reach it. So I turned and rode about two hours in 
 that direction. The prairie changed as I advanced, sof- 
 tening away into easier undulations, but nothing like the 
 Platte appeared, nor any sign of a human being; the same 
 w^ild endless expanse lay around me still; and to all ap- 
 pearance I was as far from my object as ever. I began now 
 to consider myself in danger of being lost; and therefore, 
 reining in my horse, summoned the scanty share of wood- 
 craft that I possessed (if that term be apphcable upon the 
 
74 THE OREGON TRAIL 
 
 prairie) to extricate me. Looking around, it occurred to 
 me that the buffalo might prove my best guides. I. soon 
 found one of the paths made by them in their passage to 
 the river; it ran nearly at right angles to my course; but 
 turning my horse's head in the direction it indicated, his 
 freer gait and erected ears assured me that I was right. 
 
 But in the meantime my ride had been by no means a 
 solitary one. The whole face of the country was dotted 
 far and wide with countless hundreds of buffalo. They 
 trooped along in files and columns, bulls, cows, and calves, 
 on the green faces of the declivities in front. They 
 scrambled away over the hills to the right and left; and 
 far off, the pale blue swells in the extreme distance were 
 dotted with innumerable specks. Sometimes I surprised 
 shaggy old bulls grazing alone, or sleeping behind the 
 ridges I ascended. They would leap up at my approach, 
 stare stupidly at me through their tangled manes, and 
 then gallop heavily away. The antelope were very nu- 
 merous ; and as they are always bold when in the neighbor- 
 hood of buffalo, they would approach quite near to look 
 at me, gazing intently with their great round eyes, then 
 suddenly leap aside, and stretch lightly away over the 
 prairie, as swiftly as a race-horse. Squalid, ruffian-like 
 wolves sneaked through the hollows and sandy ravines. 
 Several times I passed through villages of prairie-dogs, 
 who sat, each at the mouth of his burrow, holding his paws 
 before him in a supplicating attitude, and yelping away 
 most vehemently, energetically whisking his Httle tail 
 with every squeaking cry he uttered. Prairie-dogs are not 
 fastidious in their choice of companions; various long, 
 checkered snakes were sunning themselves in the midst of 
 the village, and demure little gray owls, with a large white 
 ring around each eye, were perched side by side with the 
 rightful inhabitants. The prairie teemed with life. Again 
 and again I looked toward the crowded hill-sides, and was 
 sure I saw horsemen; and riding near, with a mixture of 
 hope and dread, for Indians were abroad, I found them 
 transformed into a ^roup of buffalo. There was nothing 
 in human shape amid all this vast congregation of brute 
 forms. 
 
 When I turned down the buffalo-path the prairie seemed 
 
THE BUFFALO 75 
 
 changed; only a wolf or two glided past at intervals, like 
 conscious felons, never looking to the right or left. Being 
 now free from anxiety, I was at leisure to observe minutely 
 the objects around me; and here, for the first time, I no- 
 ticed insects wholly different from any of the varieties 
 found farther to the eastward. Gaudy butterflies fluttered 
 about my horse's head; strangely formed beetles, glitter- 
 ing with metallic lustre, were crawling upon plants that 
 I had never seen before; multitudes of flzards, too, were 
 darting like lightning over the sand. 
 
 I had run to a great distance from the river. It cost me 
 a long ride on the buffalo-path, before I saw, from the 
 ridge of a sand-hill, the pale surface of the Platte glisten- 
 ing in the midst of its desert valleys, and the faint outline 
 of the hills beyond waving along the sky. From where I 
 stood, not a tree nor a bush nor a living thing was visible 
 throughout the whole extent of the sun-scorched land- 
 scape. In half an hour I came upon the trail, not far from 
 the river; and seeing that the party had not yet passed, I 
 turned eastward to meet them, old Pontiac's long swinging 
 trot again assuring me that I was right in doing so. Hav- 
 ing been slightly ill on leaving camp in the morning, six 
 or seven hours of rough riding had fatigued me extremely. 
 I soon stopped, therefore; flung my saddle on the ground, 
 and with my head resting on it, and my horse's trail-rope 
 tied loosely to my arm, lay waiting the arrival of the party, 
 speculating meanwhile on the extent of the injuries Pon- 
 tiac had received. At length the white wagon coverings 
 rose from the verge of the plain. By a singular coinci- 
 dence, almost at the same moment two horsemen appeared 
 coming down from the hills. They were Shaw and Henry, 
 who had searched for me awhile in the morning, but well 
 knowing the futihty of the attempt in such a broken coun- 
 try, had placed themselves on the top of the highest hifl 
 they could find, and picketing their horses near them, as a 
 signal to me, had lain down and fallen asleep. The stray 
 cattle had been recovered, as the emigrants told us, about 
 noon. Before sunset, we pushed forward eight miles farther. 
 
 "June 7, 1846. — Four men are missing: R., Sorel, and two emi- 
 grants. They set out this morning after buffalo, and have not yet 
 made their appearance; whether killed or lost, we cannot tell." 
 
76 THE OREGON TRAIL 
 
 I find the above in my note-book, and well remember 
 the council held on the occasion. Our tire was the scene 
 of it; for the palpable superiority of Henry Chatillon's 
 experience and skill made him the resort of the whole 
 camp upon every question of difficulty. He was moulding 
 bullets at the fire when the Captain drew near, with a per- 
 turbed and care-worn expression of countenance, faith- 
 fully reflected on the heavy features of Jack, who followed 
 close behind. Then emigrants came straggling from their 
 wagons toward the common centre; various suggestions 
 were made to account for the absence of the four men; and 
 one or two of the emigrants declared that when out after 
 the cattle, they had seen Indians dogging them, and crawl- 
 ing like wolves along the ridges of the hills. At this the 
 Captain slowly shook his head with double gravity, and 
 solemnly remarked : 
 
 " It's a serious thing to be travelling through this cursed 
 wilderness"; an opinion in which Jack immediately ex- 
 pressed a thorough coincidence. Henry would not com- 
 mit himself by declaring any positive opinion: 
 
 "Maybe he only follow the buffalo too far; maybe In- 
 dian kill him; maybe he got lost; I cannot tell!" 
 
 With this the auditors were obliged to rest content; the 
 emigrants, not in the least alarmed, though curious to 
 know what had become of their comrades, walked back to 
 their wagons, and the Captain betook himself pensively 
 to his tent. Shaw and I followed his example. 
 
 "It will be a bad thing for our plans,'' said he as we 
 entered, " if these fellows don't get back safe. The Cap- 
 tain is as helpless on the prairie as a child. We shall have 
 to take him and his brother in tow; they will hang on us 
 like lead." 
 
 "The prairie is a strange place," said I. "A month ago 
 I should have thought it rather a startling affair to have 
 an acquaintance ride out in the morning and lose his scalp 
 before night, but here it seems the most natural thing in 
 the world; not that I believe that R. has lost his yet." 
 
 If a man is constitutionally liable to nervous apprehen- 
 sions, a tour on the distant prairies would prove the best 
 prescription; for though when in the neighborhood of the 
 Rocky Mountains he may at times find himself placed 
 
THE BUFFALO 77 
 
 in circumstances of some danger, I believe that few ever 
 breathe that reckless atmosphere without becoming al- 
 most indifferent to any evil chance that may befall them- 
 selves or their friends. 
 
 Shaw had a propensity for luxurious indulgence. He 
 spread his blanket with the utmost accuracy on the ground, 
 picked up the sticks and stones that he thought might 
 interfere with his comfort, adjusted his saddle to serve 
 as a pillow, and composed himself for his night's rest. I 
 had the first guard that evening; so, taking my rifle, I went 
 out of the tent. It was perfectly dark. A brisk wind blew 
 down from the hills, and the sparks from the fire were 
 streaming over the prairie. One of the emigrants, named 
 Morton, was my companion; and laying our rifles on the 
 grass we sat down together by the fire. Morton was a 
 Kentuckian, an athletic fellow, with a fine, intelligent face^ 
 and in his manners and conversation he showed the es- 
 sential characteristics of a gentleman. Our conversation 
 turned on the pioneers of his gallant native state. The 
 three hours of our watch dragged away at last, and we 
 went to cafl up the relief. 
 
 R.'s guard succeeded mine. He was absent; but the 
 Captain, anxious lest the camp should be left defenceless, 
 had volunteered to stand in his place; so I went to wake 
 him up. There was no occasion for it, for the Captain had 
 been awake since nightfall. A fire was blazing outside of 
 the tent, and by the light which struck through the canvas 
 I saw him and Jack lying on their backs with their eyes 
 wide open. The Captain responded instantly to my call; 
 he jumped up, seized the double-barrelled rifle, and came 
 out of the tent with an air of solemn determination, as if 
 about to devote himself to the safety of the party. I went 
 and lay down, not doubting that for the next three hours 
 our slumbers would be guarded with sufficient vigilance. 
 
78 THE OREGON TRAIL 
 
 CHAPTER VIII 
 
 TAKING FRENCH LEAVE 
 "Parting is such sweet sorrow! " — Romeo and Juliet. 
 
 On the eighth of June, at eleven o'clock, we reached 
 the South Fork of the Platte, at the usual forcling-place. 
 For league upon league the desert uniformity of the pros- 
 pect was almost unbroken; the hills were dotted with 
 little tufts of shrivelled grass, but betwixt these the white 
 sand was glaring in the sun ; and the channel of the river, 
 almost on a level with the plain, was but one great sand- 
 bed about half a mile wide. It was covered with water, 
 but so scantily that the bottom was scarcely hidden; for, 
 wide as it is, the average depth of the Platte does not at 
 this point exceed a foot and a half. Stopping near its 
 bank, we gathered hois de vache, and made a meal of 
 buffalo-meat. Far off, on the other side, was a green 
 meadow, where we could see the white tents and wagons 
 of an emigrant camp; and just opposite to us we could 
 discern a group of men and animals at the water's edge. 
 Four or five horsemen soon entered the river, and in ten 
 minutes had waded across and clambered up the loose 
 sand-bank. They were ill-looking fellows, thin and 
 swarthy, with care-worn, anxious faces, and lips rigidly 
 compressed. They had good cause for anxiety; it was 
 three days since they first encamped here, and on the 
 night of their arrival they had lost one hundred and 
 twent^^-three of their best cattle, driven off by the wolves, 
 through the neglect of the man on guard. This dis- 
 couraging and alarming calamity was not the first that 
 had overtaken them. Since leaving the settlements they 
 had met with nothing but misfortune. Some of their 
 party had died; one man had been killed by the Pawnees; 
 and about a week before they had been plundered by the 
 Dahcotahs of all their best horses, the wretched animals 
 on which our visitors were mounted being the only ones 
 that were left. They had encamped, they told us, near 
 sunset, by the side of the Platte, and their oxen were 
 scattered over the meadow, while the band of horses 
 were feeding a little farther off. Suddenly the ridges of 
 
TAKING FRENCH LEAVE 79 
 
 the hills were alive with a swarm of mounted Indians, at 
 least six hundred in number, who, with a tremendous 
 yell, came pouring down toward the camp, rushing up 
 within a few rods, to the great terror of the emigrants; 
 but suddenly Avheeling, they swept around the band of 
 horses, and in five minutes had disappeared with their 
 prey through the openings of the hills. 
 
 As these emigrants were telling their story, we saw 
 four other men approaching. They proved to be R. and 
 his companions, who had encountered no mischance of 
 any kind, but had only wandered too far in pursuit of the 
 game. They said they had seen no Indians, but only 
 ^'millions of buffalo"; and both R. and Sorel had meat 
 dangling behind their saddles. 
 
 The emigrants recrossed the river, and we prepared to 
 follow. First the heavy ox-wagons plunged down the 
 bank, and dragged slowly over the sand-beds; sometimes 
 the hoofs of the oxen were scarcely wetted by the thin 
 sheet of water; and the next moment the river would be 
 boiling against their sides, and eddying fiercely around 
 the wheels. Inch by inch they receded from the shore, 
 dwindling every moment, until at length they seemed to 
 be floating far out in the very middle of the river. A 
 more critical experiment awaited us; for our little mule- 
 cart was but ill-fitted for the passage of so swift a stream. 
 We watched it with anxiety till it seemed to be a httle 
 motionless white speck in the midst of the waters; and 
 it was motionless, for it had stuck fast in a quicksand. 
 The little mules were losing their footing, the wheels were 
 sinking deeper and deeper, and the water began to rise 
 through the bottom and drench the goods within. All 
 of us who had remained on the hither bank galloped to 
 the rescue; the men jumped into the water, adding their 
 strength to that of the mules, until by much effort the 
 cart was extricated and conveyed in safety across. 
 
 As wx gained the other bank a rough group of men 
 surrounded us. They were not robust, nor large of frame, 
 yet they had an aspect of hardy endurance. Finding at 
 home no scope for their fiery energies, they had betaken 
 themselves to the prairie; and in them seemed to be re- 
 vived, with redoubled force, that fierce spirit which im- 
 
80 THE OREGON TRAIL 
 
 pelled their ancestors, scarce more lawless than themselves, 
 from the German forests, to inundate Europe and break 
 to pieces the Roman Empire. A fortnight afterward 
 this unfortunate part}^ passed Fort Laramie while we were 
 there. Not one of their missing oxen had been recovered, 
 though they had remained encamped a week in search 
 of them; and they had been compelled to abandon a 
 great part of their baggage and provisions, and yoke 
 cows and heifers to their wagons to carry them forward 
 upon their journey, the most toilsome and hazardous 
 part of which lay still before them. 
 
 It is worth noticing that on the Platte one may some- 
 times see the shattered wrecks of ancient claw-footed 
 tables, well waxed and rubbed, or massive bureaus of 
 carved oak. These, many of them no doubt the relics 
 of ancestral prosperity in the colonial time, must have 
 encountered strange vicissitudes. Imported, perhaps, 
 originally from England ; then, with the declining fortunes 
 of their owners, borne across the Alleghanies to the re- 
 mote wilderness of Ohio or Kentucky; then to Illinois or 
 Missouri; and now at last fondly stowed away in the 
 family wagon for the interminable journey to Oregon. 
 But the stern privations of the way are little anticipated. 
 The cherished relic is soon flung out to scorch and crack 
 upon the hot prairie. 
 
 We resumed our journey; but we had gone scarcely a 
 mile when R. called out from the rear: 
 
 "We'll camp here!" 
 
 ''Why do you want to camp? Look at the sun. It 
 is not three o'clock yet." 
 
 "We'h camp here!" 
 
 This was the only reply vouchsafed. Delorier was in 
 advance Avith his cart. Seeing the mule-wagon wheeling 
 from the track, he began to turn his own team in the 
 same direction. 
 
 "Go on, Delorier"; and the little cart advanced again. 
 As we rode on we soon heard the wagon of our confederates 
 creaking and jolting on behind us, and the driver, Wright, 
 discharging a furious volley of oaths against his mules; 
 no doubt venting upon them the wrath which he dared 
 not direct against a more appropriate object. 
 
TAKING FRENCH LEAVE 81 
 
 Something of this sort had frequently occurred. Our 
 Enghsh friend was by no means partial to us, and we 
 thought we discovered in his conduct a deliberate inten- 
 tion to thwart and annoy us, especially by retarding the 
 movements of the party, which he knew that we, being 
 Yankees, were anxious to quicken. Therefore he would 
 insist on encamping at all unseasonable hours, saying 
 that fifteen miles was a sufficient day's journey. Finding 
 our wishes systematically disregarded, we took the direc- 
 tion of affairs into our own hands. Keeping always in 
 advance, to the inexpressible indignation of R., we en- 
 camped at what time and place we thought proper, not 
 much caring whether the rest chose to follow or not. — • 
 They always did so, however, pitching their tent near 
 ours, with sullen and wrathful countenances. 
 
 Travelling together on these agreeable terms did not 
 suit our tastes; for some time we had meditated a separa- 
 tion. The connection with this party had caused us 
 various delays and inconveniences; and the glaring want 
 of courtesy and good sense displayed by their virtual 
 leader did not dispose us to bear these annoyances with 
 much patience. We resolved to leave camp early in the 
 morning, and push forward as rapidly as possible for 
 Fort Laramie, which we hoped to reach, by hard travel- 
 ling, in four or five days. The Captain soon trotted up 
 between us, and we explained our intentions. 
 
 "A very extraordinary proceeding, upon my word!" 
 he remarked. Then he began to enlarge upon the enor- 
 mity of the design. The most prominent impression in 
 his mind evidently was that we were acting a base and 
 treacherous part in deserting his party, in what he con- 
 sidered a very dangerous stage of the journey. To palli- 
 ate the atrocity of our conduct we ventured to suggest 
 that we were only four in number, while his party still 
 included sixteen men; and as, moreover^ we were to go 
 forward and they were to follow, at least a full propor- 
 tion of the perils he apprehended would fall upon us. 
 But the austerity of the Captain's features would not 
 relax. "A very extraordinary proceeding, gentlemen!" 
 and repeating this, he rode off to confer with his principal. 
 
 By good luck we found a meadow of fresh grass and a 
 
82 THE OREGON TRAIL 
 
 large pool of rain-water in the midst of it. We encamped 
 here at sunset. Plenty of buffalo skulls were lying around 
 bleaching in the sun; and sprinkled thickty among the 
 grass was a great variety of strange flowers. I had noth- 
 ing else to do, and so, gathering a handful, I sat down 
 on a buffalo skull to study them. Although the offspring 
 of a wilderness, their texture was frail and delicate, and 
 their colors extremely rich: pure white, dark blue, and a 
 transparent crimson. One travelling in this country sel- 
 dom has leisure to think of anything but the stern fea- 
 tures of the scenery and its accompaniments, or the prac- 
 tical details of each day's journey. Like them, he and his 
 thoughts grow hard and rough. But now these flowers 
 suddenly awakened a train of associations as alien to 
 the rude scene around me as they were themselves; and 
 for the moment my thoughts went back to New Eng- 
 land. A throng of fair and well-remembered faces rose, 
 vividly as life, before me. "There are good things," 
 thought I, "in the savage life, but what can it offer to 
 replace those powerful and ennobling influences that can 
 reach unimpaired over more than three thousand miles 
 of mountains, forests, and deserts? " 
 
 Before sunrise on the next morning our tent was 
 down; we harnessed our best horses to the cart and left 
 the camp. But first we shook hands wdth our friends the 
 emigrants, who sincerely wished us a safe journey, though 
 some others of the party might easily have been consoled 
 had we encountered an Indian war-party on the way. 
 The Captain and his brother were standing on the top of 
 a hill, wrapped in their plaids, like spirits of the mist, 
 keeping an anxious eye on the band of horses below. We 
 waved adieu to them as Ave rode off the ground. The 
 Captain replied with a salutation of the utmost dignity, 
 which Jack tried to imitate; but being Httle practised in 
 the gestures of polite society, his effort was not a very 
 successful one. 
 
 In five minutes we had gained the foot of the hills, 
 but here we came to a stop. Old Hcndrick was in the 
 shafts, and being the very incarnation of perverse and 
 brutish obstinacy, he utterly refused to move. Delorier 
 lashed and swore till he was tired, but Hendrick stood Hke 
 
TAKING FRENCH LEAVE 83 
 
 a rock, grumbling to himself and looking askance at his 
 enemy, until he saw a favorable opportunity to take his 
 revenge, when he struck out under the shaft with such 
 cool malignity of intention that Delorier only escaped 
 the blow by a sudden skip into the air, such as no one but 
 a Frenchman could achieve. Shaw and he then joined 
 forces, and' lashed on both sides at once. The brute 
 stood still for a while till he could bear it no longer, when 
 all at once he began to kick and plunge till he threatened 
 the utter demolition of the cart and harness. We glanced 
 back at the camp, which was in full sight. Our compan- 
 ions, inspired by emulation, were levelling their tents 
 and driving in their cattle and horses. 
 
 "Take the horse out,'' said I. 
 
 I took the saddle from Pontiac and put it upon Hend- 
 rick; the former was harnessed to the cart in an instant. 
 ^' Avance done!'' cried Delorier. Pontiac strode up the 
 hill, twitching the little cart after him as if it were a 
 feather's weight; and though, as we gained the top, we 
 saw the wagons of our deserted comrades just getting 
 into motion, we had little fear that they could overtake 
 us. Leaving the trail, we struck directly across the coun- 
 try, and took the shortest cut to reach the main stream 
 of the Platte. A deep ravine suddenly intercepted us. 
 We skirted its sides until we found them less abrupt, and 
 then plunged through the best way we could. Passing 
 behind the sandy ravines called "Ash Hollow," we 
 stopped for a short nooning at the side of a pool of rain- 
 water; but soon resumed our journey, and some hours 
 before sunset vvere descending the ravines and gorges 
 opening downward upon the Platte to the west of Ash 
 Hollow. Our horses waded to the fetlock in sand; the 
 sun scorched like fire, and the air swarmed with sand-flies 
 and mosquitoes. 
 
 At last we gained the Platte. Following it for about 
 five miles, we saw, just as the sun was sinking, a great 
 meadow, dotted with hundreds of cattle, and beyond 
 them an emigrant encampment. A party of about a 
 dozen came out to meet us, looking upon us at first with 
 cold and suspicious faces. Seeing four men, different in 
 appearance and equipment horn, themselves, emerging 
 
84 THE OREGON TRAIL 
 
 from the hills, they had taken us for the van of the much- 
 dreaded Mormons, whom they were very apprehensive 
 of encountering. We made known our true character, 
 and then they greeted us cordially. They expressed 
 much surprise that so small a party should venture to 
 traverse that region, though in fact such attempts are 
 not unfrequently made by trappers and Indian traders. 
 We rode with them to their camp. The wagons, some 
 fifty in number, with here and there a tent intervening, 
 were arranged as usual in a circle; in the area within the 
 best horses were picketed, and the whole circumference 
 was glowing with the dusky light of the fires, displaying 
 the forms of the women and children who were crowded 
 around them. This patriarchal scene was curious and 
 striking enough; but we made our escape from the place 
 with all possible dispatch, being tormented by the in- 
 trusive curiosity of the men, who crowded around us. 
 Yankee curiosity was nothing to theirs. They demanded 
 our names, where we came from, where we were going, 
 and what was our business. The last query was particu- 
 larly embarrassing; since travelling in that country, or 
 indeed anywhere, from any other motive than gain, was 
 an idea of which they took no cognizance. Yet they were 
 fine-looking fellows, with an air of frankness, generosity, 
 and even courtesy, having come from one of the least 
 barbarous of the frontier counties. 
 
 We passed about a mile beyond them and encamped. 
 Being too few in number to stand guard without exces- 
 sive fatigue, we extinguished our fire, lest it should attract 
 the notice of wandering Indians; and picketing our horses 
 close around us, slept undisturbed till morning. For three 
 days we travelled without interruption, and on the even- 
 ing of the third encamped by the well-known spring on 
 Scott's Bluff. 
 
 Henry Chatillon and I rode out in the morning, and 
 descending the western side of the bluff, were crossing 
 the plain beyond. Something that seemed to me a file 
 of buffalo came into view, descending the hills several 
 miles before us. But Henry reined in his horse, and 
 keenly peering across the prairie with a better and more 
 practisfed eye, soon discovered its real nature. " Indians ! " 
 
TAKING FRENCH LEAVE 85 
 
 he said. ^'Old Smoke's lodges, I b'lieve. Come! let us 
 go! Wah! get up, now, 'Five Hundred Dollar!' " And 
 laying on the lash with good will, he galloped forward 
 and I rode by his side. Not long after a black speck be- 
 came visible on the prairie, full two miles off. It grew 
 larger and larger; it assumed the form of a man and horse; 
 and soon we could discern a naked Indian, careering at 
 full gallop toward us. When within a furlong he wheeled 
 his horse in a wide circle, and made him describe various 
 mystic figures upon the prairie; and Henry immediately 
 compelled ''Five Hundred Dollar" to execute similar 
 evolutions. "It is Old Smoke's village," said he, inter- 
 preting these signals; "didn't I say so?" 
 
 As the Indian approached we stopped to wait for him, 
 w^hen suddenly he vanished, sinking, as it were, into the 
 earth. He had come upon one of the deep raVines that 
 everywhere intersect these prairies. In an instant the 
 rough head of his horse stretched upward from the edge, 
 and the rider and steed came scrambling out, and bounded 
 up to us; a sudden jerk of the rein brought the wild pant- 
 ing horse to a full stop. Then followed the needful for- 
 mality of shaking hands. I forget our visitor's name. 
 He was a young fellow, of no note in his nation; yet in his 
 person and equipments he was a good specimen of a 
 Dahcotah warrior in his ordinary travelling dress. Like 
 most of his people, he was nearly six feet high; lithely 
 and gracefully, yet strongly proportioned; and with a 
 skin singularly clear and delicate. He wore no paint; 
 his head was bare; and his long hair was gathered in a 
 clump behind, to the top of which was attached trans- 
 versely, both by way of ornament and of talisman, the 
 mystic whistle, made of the wing-bone of the war-eagle, 
 and endowed with various magic virtues. From the back 
 of his head descended a line of glittering brass plates, 
 tapering from the size of a doubloon to that of a half dime, 
 a cumbrous ornament, in high vogue among the Dahco- 
 tahs, and for which they pay the traders a most extrava- 
 gant price; his chest and arms were naked, the buffalo- 
 robe worn over them when at rest had fallen about his 
 waist, and was confined there by a belt. This, with the 
 gay moccasins on his feet, completed his attire. For 
 
86 THE OREGON TRAIL 
 
 arms he carried a quiver of dog-skin at his back, and a 
 rude but powerful bow in his hand. His horse had no 
 bridle; a cord of hair, lashed around his jaw, served in 
 place of one. The saddle was of most singular construc- 
 tion; it was made of wood covered with raw-hide, and 
 both pommel and cantle rose perpendicularly full eighteen 
 inches, so that the warrior was wedged firmly in his seat, 
 whence nothing could dislodge him but the bursting of 
 the girths. 
 
 Advancing with our new companion, we found more of 
 his people seated in a circle on the top of a hill; while a 
 rude procession came straggling clown the neighboring 
 hollow, men, women, and children, with horses dragging 
 the lodge-poles behind them. All that morning, as we 
 moved forward, tall savages were stalking silently about 
 us. At noon we reached Horse Creek; and as we waded 
 through the shallow water we saw a wild and striking 
 scene. The main body of the Indians had arrived before 
 us. On the farther bank stood a large and strong man, 
 nearly naked, holding a white horse by a long cord and 
 eyeing us as we approached. This was the chief, whom 
 Henry called "Old Smoke." Just behind him, his young- 
 est and favorite squaw sat astride of a fine mule; it was 
 covered with caparisons of whitened skins, garnished with 
 blue and white beads, and fringed with little ornaments of 
 metal that tinkled with every movement of the animal. 
 The girl had a light clear complexion, enlivened by a spot 
 of vermilion on each cheek; she smiled, not to say grinned, 
 upon us, showing two gleaming rows of white teeth. In 
 her hand she carried the tall lance of her unchivalrous 
 lord, fluttering with feathers; his round white shield hung 
 at the side of her mule; and his pipe was slung at her back. 
 Her dress was a tunic of deer-skin, made beautifully white 
 by means of a species of clay found on the prairie, and 
 ornamented with beads, arrayed in figures more gay than 
 tasteful, and with long fringes at all the seams. Not far 
 from the chief stood a group of stately figures, their white 
 buffalo-robes thrown over their shoulders, gazing coldly 
 upon us; and in the rear, for several acres, the ground was 
 covered with a temporary encampment; men, women, and 
 children swarmed like bees; hundred of dogs, of all sizes 
 
TAKING FRENCH LEAVE 87 
 
 and colors, ran restlessly about; and close at hand, the 
 wide shallow stream was alive with boys, girls, and j^oung 
 squaws, splashing, screaming, and laughing in the water. 
 At the same time a long train of emigrant wagons were 
 crossing the creek, and dragging on in their slow, heavy 
 procession, passed the encampment of the people whom 
 they and their descendants, in the space of a century, are 
 to sweep from the face of the earth. 
 
 The encampment itself was merely a temporary one 
 during the heat of the da}^ None of the lodges were 
 erected; but their heavy leather coverings, and the long 
 poles used to support them, were scattered everywhere 
 around, among weapons, domestic utensils, and the rude 
 harness of mules and horses. The squaws of each lazy 
 warrior had made him a shelter from the sun by stretching 
 a few buffalo-robes or the corner of a lodge-covering upon 
 poles; and here he sat in the shade, with a favorite young 
 squaw, perhaps, at his side, glittering with all imaginable 
 trinkets. Before him stood the insignia of his rank as a 
 w^arrior, his white shield of bull-hide, his medicine-bag, 
 his bow and quiver, his lance and his pipe, raised aloft on a 
 tripod of three poles. Except the dogs, the most active 
 and noisy tenants of the camp were the old women, ugly 
 as Macbeth's witches, with their hair streaming loose in the 
 w4nd, and nothing but the tattered fragment of an old 
 buffalo-robe to hide their shrivelled wiiy limbs. The day 
 of their favoritism passed two generations ago; now the 
 heaviest labors of the camp devolved upon them; they 
 were to harness the horses, pitch the lodges, dress the 
 buffalo-robes, and bring in meat for the hunters. AVith the 
 cracked voices of these hags, the clamor of dogs, the shout- 
 ing and laughing of children and girls, and the listless tran- 
 quillity of the warriors, the whole scene had an effect too 
 lively and picturesque ever to be forgotten. 
 
 We stopped not far from the Indian camp, and having 
 invited some of the chiefs and warriors to dinner, placed 
 before them a sumptuous repast of biscuit and coffee. 
 Squatted in a half circle on the ground, they soon disposed 
 of it. As we rode forward on the afternoon journey, sev- 
 eral of our late guests accompanied us. Among the rest 
 was a huge bloated savage, of more than three hundred 
 
88 THE OREGON TRAIL 
 
 pounds' weight, christened Le Cochon, in consideration of 
 his preposterous dimensions, and certain corresponding 
 traits of his character. " The Hog " bestrode a little white 
 pony, scarce able to bear up under the enormous burden, 
 though, by way of keeping up the necessary stimulus, the 
 rider kept both feet in constant motion, playing alter- 
 nately against his ribs. The old man was not a chief; he 
 never had ambition enough to become one; he was not a 
 warrior nor a hunter, for he was too fat and lazy; but he 
 was the richest man in the whole village. Riches among 
 the Dahcotahs consist in horses, and of these " The Hog " 
 had accumulated more than thirty. He had already ten 
 times as many as he wanted, yet still his appetite for horses 
 was insatiable. Trotting up to me, he shook me by the 
 hand, and gave me to understand that he was a very de- 
 voted friend; and then he began a series of most earnest 
 signs and gesticulations, his oily countenance radiant with 
 smiles, and his httle eyes peeping out with a cunning 
 twinkle from between the masses of flesh that almost ob- 
 scured them. Knowing nothing at that time of the sign- 
 language of the Indians, I could only guess at his mean- 
 ing. So I called on Henry to explain it. 
 
 " The Hog, " it seems, was anxious to conclude a matri- 
 monial bargain. He said he had a very pretty daughter 
 in his lodge, whom he would give me, if I would give him 
 my horse. These flattering overtures I chose to reject; at 
 which "The Hog," still laughing with undiminished good 
 humor, gathered his robe about his shoulders and rode 
 away. 
 
 Where we encamped that night an arm of the Platte ran 
 between high bluffs; it was turbid and swift as heretofore, 
 but trees were growing on its crumbling banks, and there 
 was a nook of grass between the water and the hill. Just 
 before entering this place we saw the emigrants encamp- 
 ing at two or three miles' distance on the right; while the 
 whole Indian rabble were pouring down the neighboring 
 hill in hope of the same sort of entertainment which they 
 had experienced from us. In the savage landscape before 
 our camp nothing but the rushing of the Platte broke the 
 silence. Through the ragged boughs of the trees, dilapi- 
 dated and half dead,. we saw the sun setting in crimson be- 
 
TAKING FRENCH LEAVE 89 
 
 hind the peaks of the Black Hills ; the restless bosom of the 
 river was suffused with red; our white tent was tinged 
 with it, and the sterile bluffs, up to the rocks that crowned 
 them, partook of the same fiery hue. It soon passed away; 
 no light remained but that from our fire, blazing high 
 among the dusky trees and bushes. We lay around it 
 wrapped in our blankets, smoking and conversing until a 
 late hour, and then withdrew to our tent. 
 
 We crossed a sun-scorched plain on the next morning, 
 the line of old cotton-wood trees that fringed the bank of 
 the Platte forming its extreme verge. Nestled apparently 
 close beneath them, we could discern in the distance some- 
 thing like a building. As we came nearer, it assumed 
 form and dimensions, and proved to be a rough structure 
 of logs. It was a little trading fort, belonging to two pri- 
 vate traders; and originally intended, like all the forts of 
 the country, to form a hollow square, with rooms for lodg- 
 ing and storage opening upon the area within. Only two 
 sides of it had been completed; the place was now as ill- 
 fitted for the purposes of defence as any of those little log- 
 houses which upon our constantly-shifting frontier have 
 been so often successfully maintained against overwhelm- 
 ing odds of Indians. Two lodges were pitched close to the 
 fort ; the sun beat scorching upon the logs ; no living thing 
 was stirring except one old squaw, who thrust her round 
 head from the opening of the nearest lodge, and three or 
 four stout young pups, who were peeping with looks of 
 eager inquiry from under the covering. In a moment a 
 door opened, and a little swarthy, black-eyed Frenchman 
 came out. His dress was rather singular; his black curl- 
 ing hair was parted in the middle of his head, and fell 
 below his shoulders; he wore a tight frock of smoked deer- 
 skin, very gayly ornamented with figures worked in dyed 
 porcupine-quills. His moccasins and leggings were also 
 gaudily adorned in the same manner ; and the latter had in 
 addition a line of long fringes, reaching down the seams. 
 The small frame of Richard, for by this name Henry made 
 him known to us, was in the highest degree athletic and 
 vigorous. There was no superfluity, and indeed there 
 seldom is among the active white men of this country, but 
 every limb was compact and hard; every sinew had its 
 
90 THE OREGON TRAIL 
 
 full tone and elasticity, and the whole man wore an air of 
 mingled hardihood and buoyancy. 
 
 Richard committed our horses to a Navaho slave, a 
 mean-looking fellow, taken prisoner on the Mexican fron- 
 tier; and relieving us of our rifles with ready pohteness, 
 led the way into the principal apartment of his establish- 
 ment. This was a room ten feet square. The walls and 
 floor were of black mud, and the roof of rough timber; 
 there was a huge fireplace made of four flat rocks, pickecl 
 up on the prairie. An Indian bow and otter-skin quiver, 
 several gaudy articles of Rocky Mountain finery, an In- 
 dian medicine-bag, and a pipe and tobacco-pouch garn- 
 ished the walls, and rifles rested in a corner. There was 
 no furniture except a sort of rough settle, covered with 
 buffalo-robes, upon which lolled a tall half-breed, with his 
 hair glued in masses upon each temple, and saturated with 
 vermilion. Two or three more " mountain men " sat cross- 
 legged on the floor. Their attire was not unlike that of 
 Richard himself ; but the most striking figure of the group 
 was a naked Indian boy of sixteen, with a handsome face, 
 and light, active proportions, who sat in an easy posture 
 in the corner near the door. Not one of his limbs moved 
 the breadth of a hair; his eye was fixed immovably, not on 
 any person present, but, as it appeared, on the projecting 
 corner of the fireplace opposite to him. 
 
 On these prairies the custom of smoking with friends is 
 seldom omitted, whether among Indians or whites. The 
 pipe, therefore, was taken from the wall, and its great red 
 bowl crammed with the tobacco and shongsasha, mixed in 
 suitable proportions. Then it passed round the circle, 
 each man inhaling a few whiffs and handing it to his neigh- 
 bor. Having spent half an hour here, we took our leave; 
 first inviting our new friends to drink a cup of coffee with 
 us at our camp a mile farther up the river. 
 
 By this time, as the reader may conceive, we had grown 
 rather shabby; our clothes had burst into rags and tatters; 
 and what was worse, we had very little means of renova- 
 tion. Fort Laramie was but seven miles before us. Be- 
 ing totally averse to appearing in such a plight among any 
 society that could boast an approximation to the civiHzed, 
 we soon stopped by the river to make our toilet in the best 
 
TAKING FRENCH LEAVE 91 
 
 way we could. We hung up small looking-glasses against 
 the trees and shaved, an operation neglected for six weeks; 
 we performed our ablutions in the Platte, though the util- 
 ity of such a proceeding was questionable, the water look- 
 ing exactly like a cup of chocolate, and the banks consist- 
 ing of the softest and richest yellow mud, so that we were 
 obliged, as a preliminary, to build a causeway of stout 
 branches and twigs. Having also put on radiant mocca- 
 sins, procured from a squaw of Richard's establishment, 
 and made what other improvements our narrow circum- 
 stances allowed, wx'took our seats on the grass with a feel- 
 ing of greatly increased respectability, to await the arrival 
 of our guests. They came; the banquet was concluded, 
 and the pipe smoked. Bidding them adieu, we turned our 
 horses' heads toward the fort. 
 
 An hour elapsed. The barren hills closed across our 
 front, and we could see no farther, until having sur- 
 mounted them ; a rapid stream appeared at the foot of the 
 descent, running into the Platte; beyond was a green 
 meadow, dotted with bushes, and in the midst of these, 
 at the point where the two rivers joined, were the low clay 
 walls of a fort. This was not Fort Laramie, but another 
 post of less recent elate, which having sunk before its suc- 
 cessful competitor, was now deserted and ruinous. A mo- 
 ment after, the hills seeming to draw apart as we ad- 
 vanced, disclosed Fort Laramie itself, its high bastions 
 and perpendicular walls of clay crowning an eminence on 
 the left beyond the stream, while behind stretched a line 
 of arid and desolate ridges, and behind these again, tower- 
 ing aloft seven thousand feet, arose the grim Black Hills. 
 
 We tried to ford Laramie Creek at a point nearly op- 
 posite the fort, but the stream, swollen with the rains in 
 the mountains, was too rapid. We passed up along its 
 bank to find a better crossing place. Men gathered on the 
 wall to look at us. ^'There's Bordeaux!" called Henry, 
 his face brightening as he recognized his acquaintance; 
 ^'him there with the spy-glass; and there's old Vaskiss, 
 and Tucker, and May ; and, by George ! there's Cimoneau ! " 
 This Cimoneau was Henry's fast friend, and the only man 
 in the country who could rival him in hunting. 
 
 We soon found a ford. Henry led the way, the pony ap- 
 
92 THE OREGON TRAIL 
 
 proaching the bank with a countenance of cool indiffer- 
 ence, bracing his feet and sliding into the stream with the 
 most unmoved composure: 
 
 *'At the first plunge the horse sunk low, 
 And the water broke o'er the saddle-bow." 
 
 We followed; the water boiled against our saddles, but 
 our horses bore us easily through. The unfortunate little 
 mules came near going down with the current, cart and all; 
 and we watched them with some solicitude scrambling 
 over the loose round stones at the bottom, and bracing 
 stoutly against the stream. All landed safely at last; we 
 crossed a httle plain, descended a hollow, and riding up a 
 steep bank, found ourselves before the gateway of Fort 
 Laramie, under the impending blockhouse erected above 
 it to defend the entrance. 
 
 CHAPTER IX 
 
 SCENES AT FORT LARAMIE 
 
 " Tis true they are a lawless brood, 
 But rough in form, nor mild in mood." 
 
 The Bride of Abydos. 
 
 Looking back, after the expiration of a year, upon Fort 
 Laramie and its inmates, they seem less like a reality than 
 like some fanciful picture of the olden time; so different 
 was the scene from any which this tamer side of the world 
 can present. Tall Indians, enveloped in their white buffalo- 
 robes, were striding across the area or reclining at full 
 length on the low roofs of the buildings which inclosed it. 
 Numerous squaws, gayly bedizened, sat grouped in front 
 of the apartments they occupied; their mongrel offspring, 
 restless and vociferous, rambled in every direction through 
 the fort ; and the trappers, traders, and engages of the es- 
 tablishment were busy at their labor or their amusements. 
 
 We were met at the gate, but by no means cordially 
 welcomed. Indeed, we seemed objects of some distrust 
 and suspicion, until Henry Chatillon explained that we 
 were not traders, and we, in confirmation, handed to the 
 
SCENES AT FORT LARAMIE 93 
 
 bourgeois a letter of introduction from his principals. He 
 took it, turned it upside down, and tried hard to read it; 
 but his literary attainments not being adequate to the 
 task, he applied for relief to the clerk, a sleek, smiling 
 Frenchman, named Montalon. The letter read, Bordeaux 
 (the bourgeois) seemed gradually to awaken to a sense of 
 what was expected of him. Though not deficient in hos- 
 pitable intentions, he was wholly unaccustomed to act as 
 master of ceremonies. Discarding all formalities of re- 
 ception, he did not honor us with a single word, but walked 
 swiftly across the area, while we followed in some admira- 
 tion to a railing and a flight of steps opposite the entrance. 
 He signed to us that we had better fasten our horses to the 
 railing ; then he walked up the steps, tramped along a rude 
 balcony, and kicking open a door, displayed a large room, 
 rather more elaborately finished than a barn. For furni- 
 ture it had a rough bedstead, but no bed; two chairs, a 
 chest of drawers, a tin pail to hold water, and a board to 
 cut tobacco upon. A brass crucifix hung on the wall, and 
 close at hand a recent scalp, with hair full a yard long, was 
 suspended from a nail. I shall again have occasion to 
 mention this dismal trophy, its history being connected 
 with that of our subsequent proceedings. 
 
 This apartment, the best in Fort Laramie, was that us- 
 ually occupied by the legitimate bourgeois, Papin ; in whose 
 absence the command devolved upon Bordeaux. The 
 latter, a stout, bluff little fellow, much inflated by a sense 
 of his new authority, began to roar for buffalo-robes. 
 These being brought and spread upon the floor formed our 
 beds; much better ones than we had of late been accus- 
 tomed to. Our arrangements made, we stepped out to the 
 balcony to take a more leisurely survey of the long-looked- 
 for haven at which we had arrived at last. Beneath us was 
 the square area surrounded by little rooms, or rather cells, 
 which opened upon it. These were devoted to various 
 purposes, but served chiefly for the accommodation of the 
 men employed at the fort, or of the equally numerous 
 squaws whom they were allowed to maintain in it. Op- 
 posite to us rose the blockhouse above the gateway; it was 
 adorned with a figure which even now haunts my memory ; 
 a horse at full speed, daubed upon the boards with red 
 
94 THE OREGON TRAIL 
 
 paint, and exhibiting a degree of skill that might rival 
 that displayed by the Indians in executing similar de- 
 signs upon their robes and lodges. A busy scene was en- 
 acting in the area. The wagons of Vaskiss, an old trader, 
 were about to set out for a remote post in the mountains, 
 and the Canadians were going through their preparations 
 with all possible bustle, while here and there an Indian 
 stood looking on with imperturbable gravity. 
 
 Fort Laramie is one of the posts established by the 
 ^^ American Fur Company,'' who well-nigh monopohze 
 the Indian trade of this whole region. Here their officials 
 rule with an absolute sway; the arm of the United States 
 has little force; for when we were there, the extreme out- 
 posts of her troops were about seven hundred miles to the 
 eastward. The little fort is built of bricks dried in the sun, 
 and externally is of an oblong form, with bastions of clay, 
 in the form of ordinary blockhouses, at two of the corners. 
 The walls are about fifteen feet high, and surmounted by a 
 slender palisade. The roofs of the apartments within, 
 which are built close against the walls, serve the purpose 
 of a banquette. Within, the fort is divided by a partition; 
 on one side is the square area, surrounded by the store- 
 rooms, offices, and apartments of the inmates; on the 
 other is the corral, a narrow place, encompassed by the 
 high clay walls, where at night, or in presence of dangerous 
 Indians, the horses and mules of the fort are crowded for 
 safe keeping. The main entrance has two gates, with an 
 arched passage intervening. A little square window, quite 
 high above the ground, opens laterally from an adjoining 
 chamber into this passage; so that when the inner gate is 
 closed and barred, a person without may still hold com- 
 munication with those within, through this narrow aper- 
 ture. This obviates the necessity of admitting suspicious 
 Indians, for purposes of trading, into the body of the fort ; 
 for when danger is apprehended the inner gate is shut fast, 
 and all traffic is carried on by means of the little window. 
 This precaution, though highly necessary at some of the 
 company's posts, is now seldom resorted to at Fort Lara- 
 mie; where, though men are frequently killed in its neigh- 
 borhood, no apprehensions are now entertained of any 
 general designs of hostility from the Indians. 
 
SCENES AT FORT LARAMIE 95 
 
 We did not long enjoy our new quarters undisturbed. 
 The door was silently pushed open, and two eyeballs and a 
 visage as black as night looked in upon us; then a red arm 
 and shoulder intruded themselves, and a tall Indian, glid- 
 ing in, shook us by the hand, grunted his salutation, and 
 sat down on the floor. Others followed, with faces of the 
 natural hue; and letting fall their heavy robes from their 
 shoulders, they took their seats, quite at ease, in a semi- 
 circle before us. The pipe was now to be lighted and 
 passed round from one to another; and this was the only 
 entertainment that at present they expected from us. 
 These visitors were fathers, brothers, or other relatives of 
 the squaws in the fort, where they were permitted to re- 
 main, loitering about in perfect idleness. All those who 
 smoked with us were men of standing and repute. Two or 
 three others dropped in also; young fellows who neither 
 by their years nor their exploits were entitled to rank with 
 the old men and warriors, and who, abashed in the pres- 
 ence of their superiors, stood aloof, never withdrawing 
 their eyes from us. Their cheeks were adorned with ver- 
 milion, their ears with pendants of shell, and their necks 
 with beads. Never yet having signalized themselves as 
 hunters, or performed the honorable exploit of killing a 
 man, they were held in slight esteem, and were diffident 
 and bashful in proportion. Certain formidable inconveni- 
 ences attended this influx of visitors. They were bent on 
 inspecting everything in the room; our equipments and 
 our dress alike underwent their scrutiny; for though the 
 contrary has been carelessly asserted, few beings have 
 more curiosity than Indians in regard to subjects within 
 their ordinary range of thought. As to other matters, in- 
 deed, they seem utterly indifferent. They will not trouble 
 themselves to inquire into what they cannot comprehend, 
 but are quite contented to place their hands over their 
 mouths in token of wonder, and exclaim that it is " great 
 medicine." With this comprehensive solution, an Indian 
 never is at a loss. He never launches forth into specula- 
 tion and conjecture; his reason moves in its beaten track. 
 His soul is dormant ; and no exertions of the missionaries, 
 Jesuit or Puritan, of the Old World or of the New, have as 
 yet availed to rouse it. 
 
96 THE OREGON TRAIL 
 
 As we were looking, at sunset, from the wall, upon the 
 wild and desolate plains that surround the fort, we ob- 
 served a cluster of strange objects, like scaffolds, rising in 
 the distance against the red western sky. They bore aloft 
 some singular-looking burdens; and at their foot glim- 
 mered something white, like bones. This was the place of 
 sepulture of some Dahcotah chiefs, whose remains their 
 people are fond of placing in the vicinity of the fort, in the 
 hope that they may thus be protected from violation at 
 the hands of their enemies. Yet it has happened more 
 than once, and quite recently, that war-parties of the Crow 
 Indians, ranging through the country-, have thrown the 
 bodies from the scaffolds, and broken them to pieces, amid 
 the yells of the Dahcotahs, who remained pent up in the 
 fort, too few to defend the honored relics from insult. 
 The white objects upon the ground were buffalo skulls, 
 arranged in the mystic circle commonly seen at Indian 
 places of sepulture upon the prairie. 
 
 We soon discovered, in the twilight, a band of fifty or 
 sixty horses approaching the fort. These were the ani- 
 mals belonging to the establishment; who having been 
 sent out to feed, under the care of armed guards, in the 
 meadows below, were now being driven into the corral for 
 the night. A little gate opened into this inclosure : by the 
 side of it stood one of the guards, an old Canadian, with 
 gray bushy eyebrows, and a dragoon-pistol stuck into his 
 belt; while his comrade, mounted on horseback, his rifle 
 laid across the saddle in front of him, and his long hair 
 blowing before his swarthy face, rode at the rear of the 
 disorderly troop, urging them up the ascent. In a mo- 
 ment the narrow corral was thronged with the half-wild 
 horses, kicking, biting, and crowding rcstlessh' together. 
 
 The discordant jingling of a bell, rung by a Canadian in 
 the area, summoned us to supper. This sumptuous re- 
 past was served on a rough table in one of the lower apart- 
 ments of the fort, and consisted of cakes of bread and dried 
 buffalo-meat — an excellent thing for strengthening the 
 teeth. At this meal were seated the bourgeois and superior 
 dignitaries of the establishment, among whom Henry Cha- 
 tillon was worthily included. No sooner was it finished 
 than the table was spread a second time (the luxury of 
 
SCENES AT FORT LARAMIE 97 
 
 bread being now, however, omitted) for the benefit of cer- 
 tain hunters and trappers of an inferior standing; while 
 the ordinary Canadian engages were regaled on dried meat 
 in one of tlieir lodging rooms. By way of illustrating the 
 domestic economy of Fort Laramie, it may not be amiss 
 to introduce in this place a story current among the men 
 when we were there. 
 
 There was an old man named Pierre, whose duty it was 
 to bring the meat from the store-room for the men. Old 
 Pierre, in the kindness of his heart, used to' select the 
 fattest and the best pieces for his companions. This did 
 not long escape the keen-eyed bourgeois, who was greatly 
 disturbed at such improvidence, and cast about for some 
 means to stop it. At last he hit on a plan that exactly 
 suited him. At the side of the meat-room, and separated 
 from it by a clay partition, was another apartment, used 
 for the storage of furs. It had no other communication 
 with the fort except through a square hole in the partition, 
 and of course it Avas perfectly dark. One evening the 
 bourgeois, watching for a moment when no one observed 
 him, dodged into the meat-room, clambered through the 
 hole, and ensconced himself among the furs and buffalo- 
 robes. Soon after old Pierre came in with his lantern; and, 
 muttering to himself, began to pull over the bales of meat, 
 and select the best pieces, as usual. But suddenly a hol- 
 low and sepulchral voice proceeded from the inner apart- 
 ment: "Pierre! Pierre! Let that fat meat alone! Take 
 nothing but lean ! " Pierre dropped his lantern, and bolted 
 out into the fort, screaming, in an agony of terror, that the 
 devil was in the store-room; but tripping on the threshold, 
 he pitched over upon the gravel, and lay senseless, stunned 
 by the fall. The Canadians ran out to the rescue. Some 
 lifted the unlucky Pierre; and others, making an extem- 
 pore crucifix out of two sticks, were proceeding to attack 
 the devil in his stronghold, when the bourgeois, w^ith a 
 crestfallen countenance, appeared at the door. To add to 
 the bourgeois's mortification, he was obliged to explain the 
 whole stratagem to Pierre in order to bring the latter to 
 his senses. 
 
 We were sitting, on the following morning, in the pas- 
 sageway between the gates, conversing with the traders 
 
98 THE OREGON TRAIL 
 
 Vaskiss and May. These two men, together with our sleek 
 friend, the clerk Montalon, were, I believe, the only per- 
 sons then in the fort who could read and write. May was 
 telling a curious story about the traveller Catlin, when an 
 ugly, diminutive Indian, wretchedty mounted, came up at 
 a gallop, and rode past us into the fort. On being ques- 
 tioned, he said that Smoke's village was close at hand. 
 Accordingly only a fevv minutes elapsed before the hills 
 beyond the river were covered with a disorderly swarm of 
 savages, on horseback and on foot. May finished his 
 story ; and by that time the whole array had descended to 
 Laramie Creek, and commenced crossing it in a mass. I 
 walked down to the bank. The stream is wide, and was 
 then between three and four feet deep, wath a very swift 
 current. For several rods the water was alive with dogs, 
 horses, and Indians. The long poles used in erecting the 
 lodges are carried by the horses, being fastened by the 
 heavier end, two or three on each side, to a rude sort of 
 pack-saddle, while the other end drags on the ground. 
 About a foot behind the horse a kind of large basket or 
 pannier is suspended between the poles, and firmly lashed 
 in its place. On the back of the horse are piled various 
 articles of luggage; the basket also is well filled with do- 
 mestic utensils, or, quite as often, with a litter of puppies, 
 a brood of small children, or a superannuated old man. 
 Numbers of these curious vehicles, called, in the bastard 
 language of the country, travaux, were now splashing to- 
 gether through the stream. Among them swam countless 
 dogs, often burdened with miniature travaux; and dash- 
 ing forward on horseback through the throng came the 
 superbly formed warriors, the slender figure of some lynx- 
 eyed boy clinging fast behind them. The women sat 
 perched on the pack-saddles, adding not a little to the 
 load of the already over-burdened horses. The confusion 
 was prodigious. The dogs yelled and howled in chorus ; the 
 puppies in the travaux set up a dismal whine as the water 
 invaded their comfortable retreat; the little black-eyed 
 children, from one year of age upward, clung fast with 
 both hands to the edge of their baskets, and looked over in 
 alarm at the water rushing so near them, sputtering and 
 making wry mouths as it splashed against their faces. 
 
SCENES AT FORT LARAMIE 99 
 
 Some of the dogs, encumbered by their load, were carried 
 down by the current, yelping piteously ; and the old squaws 
 would rush into the water, seize their favorites by the neck 
 and drag them out. As each horse gained the bank he 
 scrambled up as he could. Stray horses and colts came 
 among the rest, often breaking away at full speed through 
 the crowd, followed by the old hags, screaming, after their 
 fashion, on all occasions of excitement. Buxom young- 
 squaws, blooming in all the charms of vermilion, stood 
 here and there on the bank, holding aloft their master's 
 lance as a signal to collect the scattered portions of his 
 household. In a few moments the crowd melted away; 
 each family, with its horses and equipage, filing off to the 
 plain at the rear of the fort ; and here, in the space of half 
 an hour, arose sixty or seventy of their tapering lodges. 
 Their horses were feeding by hundreds over the surround- 
 ing prairie, and their dogs were roaming everywhere. The 
 fort was full of men, and the children were whooping and 
 yelling incessantly under the walls. 
 
 These nevf-comers were scarcely arrived, when Bordeaux 
 was running across the fort, shouting to his squaw to 
 bring him his spy-glass. The obedient Marie, the very 
 model of a squaw, produced the instrument, and Bor- 
 deaux hurried with it up to the wall. Pointing it to the 
 eastward, he exclaimed, with an oath, that the families 
 were coming. But a few moments elapsed before the 
 heavy caravan of the emigrant wagons could be seen, 
 steadily advancing from the hills. They gained the river, 
 and without turning or pausing plunged in; they passed 
 through, and slowly ascending the opposing bank, kept 
 direct!}^ on their way past the fort and the Indian village, 
 until, gaining a spot a quarter of a mile distant, they 
 wheeled into a circle. For some time our tranquillity was 
 undisturbed. The emigrants were preparing their en- 
 campment; but no sooner Vv'as this accomplished, than 
 Fort Laramie was fairkf taken by storm. A crowd of 
 broad-brimmed hats, thin visages, and staring eyes ap- 
 peared suddenly at the gate. Tall, awkward men, in 
 brown homespun; women with cadaverous faces and long 
 lank figures, came thronging in together, and, as if in- 
 spired by the very demon of curiosity, ransacked every 
 
100 THE OREGON TRAIL 
 
 nook and corner of the fort. Dismayed at this invasion, 
 we withdrew in all speed to our chamber, vainly hoping 
 that it might prove an inviolable sanctuary. The emi- 
 grants prosecuted their investigations with untiring vigor. 
 They penetrated the rooms, or rather dens, inhabited by 
 the astonished squaws. They explored the apartments 
 of the men, and even that of Marie and the bourgeois. At 
 last a numerous deputation appeared at our door, but 
 were immediately expelled. Being totally devoid of any 
 sense of delicacy or propriety, they seemed resolved to 
 search every mystery to the bottom. 
 
 Having at length satisfied their curiosity, they next 
 proceeded to business. The men occupied themselves in 
 procuring supplies for their onward journey; either buying 
 them with money or giving in exchange superfluous articles 
 of their own. 
 
 The emigrants felt a violent prejudice against the 
 French Indians, as the}^ called the trappers and traders. 
 They thought, and with some justice, that these men bore 
 them no good will. Many of them were firmly persuaded 
 that the French were instigating the Indians to attack 
 and cut them off. On visiting the encampment we were 
 at once struck with the extraordinary perplexity and in- 
 decision that prevailed among the emigrants. They 
 seemed like men totally out of their element; bewildered 
 and amazed, like a troop of school-boys lost in the woods. 
 It was impossible to be long among them without being 
 conscious of the high and bold spirit with which most of 
 them were animated. But the forest is the home of the 
 backwoodsman. On the remote prairie he is totally at a 
 loss. He differs as much from the genuine "mountain 
 man," the wild prairie hunter, as a Canadian voyageur, 
 paddling his canoe on the rapids of the Ottawa, differs 
 from an American sailor among the storms of Cape Horn. 
 Still my companion and I were somewhat at a loss to ac- 
 count for this perturbed state of mind. It could not be 
 cowardice: these men were of the same stock with the 
 volunteers of Monterey and Buena Vista. Yet, for the 
 most part, they were the rudest and most ignorant of 
 the frontier population; they knew absolutely nothing of 
 the country and its inhabitants; they had already expe- 
 
SCENES AT FORT LARAMIE 101 
 
 -rienced much misfortune and apprehended more ; they had 
 seen nothing of mankind, and had never put their own re- 
 sources to the test. 
 
 A full proportion of suspicion fell upon us. Being 
 strangers, we were looked upon as enemies. Having oc- 
 casion for a suppty of lead and a few other necessary ar- 
 ticles, we used to go over to the emigrant camps to ob- 
 tain them. After some hesitation, some dubious glances, 
 and fumbling of the hands in the pockets, the terms would 
 be agreed upon, the price tendered, and the emigrant 
 would go off to bring the article in question. After wait- 
 ing until our patience gave out, we would go in search of 
 him, and find him seated on the tongue of his wagon. 
 
 "Well, stranger," he would observe, as he saw us ap- 
 proach, " I reckon I won't trade ! " 
 
 Some friend of his had followed him from the scene of 
 the bargain, and suggested in his ear that clearly we meant 
 to cheat him, and he had better have nothing to do with us. 
 
 This timorous mood of the emigrants was doubly un- 
 fortunate, as it exposed them to real danger. Assume, in 
 the presence of Indians, a bold bearing, self-confident yet 
 vigilant, and you will find them tolerably safe neighbors. 
 But your safety depends on the respect and fear you are 
 able to inspire. If you betray timidity or indecision, you 
 convert them from that moment into insidious and dan- 
 gerous enemies. The Dahcotah saw clearly enough the 
 perturbation of the emigrants, and instantly availed them- 
 selves of it. They became extremely insolent and ex- 
 acting in their demands. It has become an estabhshed 
 custom with them to go to the camp of every party, as it 
 arrives in succession at the fort, and demand a feast. 
 Smoke's village had come with this express design, hav- 
 ing made several days' journey with no other object than 
 that of enjoying a cup of coffee and two ox three biscuits. 
 So the "feast" was demanded, and the emigrants dared 
 not refuse it. 
 
 One evening, about sunset, the village was deserted. 
 We met old men, warriors, squaws, and children in gay 
 attire, trooping off to the encampment, with faces of an- 
 ticipation; ancl, arriving here, they seated themselves in a 
 semicircle. Smoke occupied the centre, with his warriors 
 
102 THE OREGON TRAIL 
 
 on either hand; the young men and bo3^s next succeeded^, 
 and the squaws and children formed the horns of the 
 crescent. The biscuit and coffee were most promptly dis- 
 patched, the emigrants staring open-mouthed at their sav- 
 age guests. With each emigrant party that arrived at 
 Fort Laramie this scene was renewed; and every day the 
 Indians grew more rapacious and presumptuous. One 
 evening they broke to pieces, out of mere wantonness, the 
 cups from which they had been feasted; and this so ex- 
 asperated the emigrants that many of them seized their 
 rifles and could scarcely be restrained from firing on the 
 insolent mob of Indians. Before we left the country this 
 dangerous spirit on the part of the Dahcotah had mounted 
 to a yet higher pitch. They began openly to threaten the 
 emigrants with destruction, and actually fired upon one 
 or two parties of whites. A military force and military 
 law are urgently called for in that perilous region; and un- 
 less troops are speedily stationed at Fort Laramie, or else- 
 where in the neighborhood, both the emigrants and other 
 travellers will be exposed to most imminent risks. 
 
 The Ogillallah, the Brule, and the other western bands 
 of the Dahcotah are thorough savages, unchanged by any 
 contact with civilization. Not one of them can speak an 
 European tongue, or has ever visited an American settle- 
 ment. LTntil within a year or two, when the emigrants 
 began to pass through their country on the way to Oregon, 
 they had seen no whites except the handful employed 
 about the Fur Company's posts. They esteemed them a 
 wise people, inferior only to themselves, living in leather 
 lodges, like their own, and subsisting on buffalo. But 
 when the swarm of Meneaska, with their oxen and wagons, 
 began to invade them, their astonishment was unbounded. 
 They could scarcely believe that the earth contained such 
 a multitude of white men. Their wonder is now giving 
 way to indignation; and the result, unless vigilantly 
 guarded against, may be lamentable in the extreme. 
 
 But to glance at the interior of a lodge. Shaw and I 
 used often to visit them. Indeed, we spent most of our 
 evenings in the Indian village; Shaw's assumption of the 
 medical character giving us a fair pretext. As a sample of 
 the rest I will describe one of these visits. The sun had 
 
SCENES AT FORT LARAMIE 103 
 
 just set, and the horses were driven into the corral. The 
 Prairie Cock, a noted beau, came in at the gate with a bevy 
 of young girls, with whom he began a dance in the area, 
 leading them round and round in a circle, w^hile he jerked 
 up from his chest a succession of monotonous sounds, to 
 which they kept time in a rueful chant. Outside the gate 
 boys and young men were idly frolicking; and close b}'', 
 looking grimly upon them, stood a warrior in his robe, 
 with his face painted jet-black, in token that he had lately 
 taken a Pawnee scalp. Passing these, the tall dark lodges 
 rose between us and the red western sky. We repaired at 
 once to the lodge of Old Smoke himself. It was by no 
 means better than the others; indeed, it was rather shabby; 
 for in this democratic community the chief never assumes 
 superior state. Smoke sat cross-legged on a buffalo-robe, 
 and his grunt of salutation as we entered was unusually 
 cordial, out of respect no doubt to Shaw's medical char- 
 acter. Seated around the lodge were several squaws, and 
 an abundance of children. The complaint of Shaw's pa- 
 tients was, for the most part, a severe inflammation of the 
 eyes, occasioned by exposure to the sun, a species of dis- 
 order which he treated with some success. He had 
 brought with him a homoeopathic medicine-chest, and 
 was, I presume, the first who introduced that harmless 
 system of treatment among the Ogillallah. No sooner 
 had a robe been spread at the head of the lodge for our 
 accommodation, and we had seated ourselves upon it, 
 than a patient made her appearance; the chief's daughter 
 herself, who, to do her justice, was the best-looking girl in 
 the village. Being on excellent terms with the physician, 
 she placed herself readily under his hands, and submitted 
 with a good grace to his applications, laughing in his face 
 during the whole process, for a squaw hardly knows how 
 to smile. This case dispatched, another of a different kind 
 succeeded. A hideous, emaciated old woman sat in the 
 darkest corner of the lodge, rocking to and fro with pain, 
 and hiding her eyes from the light by pressing the palms of 
 both hands against her face. At Smoke's command she 
 came forward very unwillingly, and exhibited a pair of 
 eyes that had nearly disappeared from excess of inflamma- 
 tion. No sooner had the doctor fastened his grip upon her 
 
104. THE OREGON TRAIL 
 
 than she set up a dismal moaning, and writhed so in his 
 grasp that he lost all patience; but being resolved to carry 
 his point, he succeeded at last in applying his favorite 
 remedies. 
 
 ^'It is strange/' he said, when the operation was fin- 
 ished, "that I forgot to bring any Spanish flies with me; 
 we must have something here to answer for a counter- 
 irritant ! " 
 
 So, in the absence of better, he seized upon a red-hot 
 brand from the fire, and clapped it against the temple of 
 the old squaw, who set up an unearthly howl, at which the 
 rest of the family broke out into a laugh. 
 
 During these medical operations Smoke's eldest squaw 
 entered the lodge with a sort of stone mallet in her hand. 
 I had observed some time before a litter of weh-grown 
 black puppies comfortably nestled among some buffalo- 
 robes at one side, but this new-comer speedily disturbed 
 their enjoyment; for, seizing one of them by the hind paw, 
 she dragged him out, and carrying him to the entrance of 
 the lodge, hammered him on the head till she killed him. 
 Being quite conscious to what this preparation tended, I 
 looked through a hole in the back of the lodge to see the 
 next steps of the process. The squaw, holding the puppy 
 by the legs, was swinging him to and fro through the blaze 
 of a fire, until the hair was singed off. This done, she un- 
 sheathed her knife and cut him into small pieces, which 
 she dropped into a kettle to boil. In a few moments a 
 large wooden dish was set before us, filled with this deli- 
 cate preparation. We felt conscious of the honor. A dog- 
 feast is the greatest compliment a Dahcotah can offer to 
 his guest ; and knowing that to refuse eating would be an 
 affront, we attacked the little dog, and devoured him be- 
 fore the eyes of his unconscious parent. Smoke in the 
 meantime was preparing his great pipe. It was lighted 
 when we had finished our repast, and we passed it from 
 one to another till the bowl Avas empt}^ This done, we 
 took our leave without farther ceremony, knocked at the 
 gate of the fort, and after making ourselves known, were 
 admitted. 
 
 One morning, about a week after reaching Fort Lara- 
 mie, we were holding our customary Indian levee, when a 
 
SCENES AT FORT LARAMIE 105 
 
 bustle in the area below announced a new arrival; and, 
 looking down from our balcony, I saw a familiar red beard 
 and moustache in the gateway. They belonged to the 
 Captain, who, with his party, had just crossed the stream. 
 We met him on the stairs as he came up, and congratu- 
 lated him on the safe arrival of himself and his devoted 
 companions. But he remembered our treachery, and was 
 grave and dignified accordingly; a tendency which in- 
 creased as he observed on our part a disposition to laugh 
 at him. After remaining an hour or two at the fort he 
 rode away with his friends, and we have heard nothing of 
 him since. As for R., he kept carefully aloof. It was but 
 too evident that he had the unhappiness to have forfeited 
 the kind regards of our London fellow-traveller. 
 
 NOTE 
 
 Somewhat more than a year from this time Shaw happened to 
 be in New York, and coming one morning down the steps of the 
 Astor House, encountered a small newsboy with a bundle of penny 
 papers under his arm, who screamed in his ear, ''Another great 
 battle in Mexico ! " Shaw bought a paper, and having perused the 
 glorious intelligence, was looking over the remaining columns, when 
 the following paragraph attracted his notice: 
 
 "English Travelling Sportsmen. — Among the notable ar- 
 rivals in town are two English gentlemen, William and John C, 
 Esqrs., at the Clinton Hotel, on their return home after an extended 
 buffalo-hunting tour in Oregon and the wild West. Their party 
 crossed the continent in March, 1846, since when our travellers 
 have seen the wonders of our great West, the Sandwich Islands, 
 and the no less agreeable Coast of Western Mexico, California, and 
 Peru. With the real zeal of sportsmen they have pursued adven- 
 ture whenever it has offered, and returned with not only a correct 
 knowledge of the West, but with many a trophy that shows they 
 have found the grand sport they sought. The account of ' Oregon,' 
 given by those observing travellers, is most glowing, and though 
 upon a pleasure trip, the advantages to be realized by commercial 
 men have not been overlooked, and they prophesy for that ' \\'estern 
 State' a prosperity not exceeded at the east. The fisheries are 
 spoken of as the best in the country, and only equalled by the rare 
 facilities for agriculture. A trip like this now closed is a rare under- 
 taking, but as interesting as rare to those who are capable of a full 
 appreciation of all the wonders that met them in the magnificent 
 region they have traversed." 
 
 In some admiration at the heroic light in which Jack and the 
 Captain were here set forth, Shaw pocketed the newspaper, and 
 
106 THE OREGON TRAIL 
 
 proceeded to make inquiry after his old fellow-travellers. Jack was 
 out of town, but the Captain was quietly established at his hotel. 
 Except that the red moustache was shorn away, he was in all re- 
 spects the same man whom we had left upon the South Fork of the 
 Platte. Every recollection of former differences had vanished from 
 his mind, and he greeted his visitor most cordially. "Where is 
 R.? " asked Shaw. " Gone to the devil," hastily rephed the Captain; 
 "that is. Jack and I parted from him at Oregon City, and haven't 
 seen him since." He next proceeded to give an account of his 
 journeyings after leaving us at Fort Laramie. No sooner, it seemed, 
 had he done so, than he and Jack began to slaughter the buffalo 
 with unrelenting fury, but when they reached the other side of the 
 South Pass their rifles were laid by as useless, since there were 
 neither Indians nor game to exercise them upon. From this point 
 the journey, as the Captain expressed it, was a great bore. When 
 they reached the mouth of the Columbia, he and Jack sailed for the 
 Sandwich Islands, whence they proceeded to Panama, across the 
 Isthmus, and came by sea to New Orleans. 
 
 Shaw and our friend spent the evening together, and when they 
 finally separated at two o'clock in the morning, the Captain's ruddy 
 face was ruddier than ever. 
 
 CHAPTER X 
 
 THE WAR-PARTIES 
 
 " By the nine gods he swore it. 
 And named a trysting-day, 
 And bade his messengers ride forth, 
 East and west and south and north, 
 To summon his array." 
 
 Lays of Ancient Rome. 
 
 The summer of 1S46 was a season of much warlike ex- 
 citement among all the western bands of the Dahcotah. 
 In 1845 they encountered great reverses. Many war- 
 parties had been sent out ; some of them had been totally 
 cut off, and others had returned broken and disheartened ; 
 so that the whole nation was in mourning. Among the 
 rest, ten warriors had gone to the Snake country, led by 
 the son of a prominent Ogillallah chief, called the Whirl- 
 wind. In passing over Laramie Plains they encountered 
 a superior number of their enemies, were surrounded, 
 and killed to a man. Having performed this exploit, the 
 Snakes became alarmed, dreading the resentment of the 
 Dahcotah, and they hastened therefore to signify their 
 
THE WAR-PARTIES 107 
 
 wish for peace by sending the scalp of the slain partisan, 
 together with a small parcel of tobacco attached, to his 
 tribesmen and relations. They had employed old Vaskiss, 
 the trader, as their messenger, and the scalp was the same 
 that hung in our room at the fort. But the Whirlwind 
 proved inexorable. Though his character hardly corre- 
 sponds with his name, he is nevertheless an Indian, and 
 hates the Snakes with his whole soul. Long before 
 the scalp arrived he had made his preparations for re- 
 venge. He sent messengers with presents and tobacco 
 to all the Dahcotah within three hundred miles, propos- 
 ing a grand combination to chastise the Snakes, and 
 naming a place and time of rendezvous. The plan was 
 readily adopted, and at this moment many villages, prob- 
 ably embracing in the whole five or six thousand souls, 
 were slowly creeping over the prairies and tending toward 
 the common centre at " La Bonte's camp," on the Platte. 
 Here their warlike rites were to be celebrated with more 
 than ordinary solemnity, and a thousand warriors, as it 
 was said, were to set out for the enemy's country. The 
 characteristic result of this preparation will appear in the 
 sequel. 
 
 I was greatly rejoiced to hear of it. I had come into 
 the country almost exclusively with a view of observing 
 the Indian character. Having from childhood felt a 
 curiosity on this subject, and having failed completely 
 to gratify it by reading, I resolved to have recourse to 
 observation. I wished to satisfy myself with regard to 
 the position of the Indians among the races of men; the 
 vices and the virtues that have sprung from their innate 
 character and from their modes of life, their government, 
 their superstitions, and their domestic situation. To ac- 
 complish my purpose it was necessary to live in the midst 
 of them, and become, as it were, one of them. I pro- 
 posed to join a village, and make myself an inmate of 
 one of their lodges; and henceforwarcl this narrative, so 
 far as I am concerned, will be chiefly a record of the prog- 
 ress of this design, apparently so easy of accomplishment, 
 and the unexpected impediments that opposed it. 
 
 We resolved on no account to miss the rendezvous at 
 I'La Bonte's camp.". Our plan was to leave Delorier at 
 
108 THE OREGON TRAIL 
 
 the fort, in charge of our equipage and the better part of 
 our horses, while we took with us nothing but our weapons 
 and the worst animals we had. In all probability jeal- 
 ousies and quarrels would arise among so many hordes 
 of fierce impulsive savages, congregated together under 
 no common head, and many of them strangers, from re- 
 mote prairies and mountains. We were bound in common 
 prudence to- be cautious how w^e excited any feeling of 
 cupidity. This was our plan, but unhappily we were not 
 destined to visit "La Bonte's camp" in this manner; 
 for one morning a young Indian came to the fort and 
 brought us evil tidings. The new-comer was a dandy of 
 the first water. His ugly face was painted with ver- 
 mihon; on his head fluttered the tail of a prairie-cock (a 
 large species of pheasant, not found, as I have heard, 
 eastward of the Rocky Mountains) ; in his ears were hung 
 pendants of shell, and a flaming red blanket was wrapped 
 around him. He carried a clragoon-sword in his hand 
 solely for display, since the knife, the arrow, and the 
 rifle are the arbiters of every prairie fight; but as no one 
 in this country goes abroad unarmed, the dandy carried 
 a bow and arrows in an otter-skin quiver at his back. In 
 this guise, and bestriding his yellow horse with an air of 
 extreme dignity, "The Horse,'' for that was his name, 
 rode in at the gate, turning neither to the right nor the 
 left, but casting glances askance, at the groups of squaws 
 who, with their mongrel progeny, were sitting in the sun 
 before their doors. The evil tidings brought by "The, 
 Horse" were of the following import: The squaw of 
 Henry Chatillon, a woman with whom he had been con- 
 nected for years by the strongest ties which in that coun- 
 try exist between the sexes, was dangerously ill. She 
 and her children were in the village of the Whirlwind, at 
 the distance of a few days' journey. Henry was anxious 
 to see the woman before she died, and provide for the 
 safety and support of his children, of whom he was ex- 
 tremely fond. To have refused him this would have been 
 gross inhumanity. We abandoned our plan of joining 
 Smoke's village and of proceeding with it to the rendez- 
 vous, and determined to meet the Whirlwind, and go in 
 his company. 
 
THE WAR-PARTIES 109 
 
 I had been slightly ill for several weeks, but on the 
 third night after reaching Fort Laramie a violent pain 
 awoke me and I found myself attacked by the same dis- 
 order that occasioned such heavy losses to the army on 
 the Rio Grande. In a day and a half I was reduced to 
 extreme weakness, so that I could not walk without pain 
 and effort. Having within that time taken six grains of 
 opium, without the least beneficial effect, and having no 
 medical adviser, nor any choice of diet, I resolved to 
 throw myself upon Providence for recovery, using, with- 
 out regard to the disorder, any portion of strength that 
 might remain to me. So on the twentieth of June we set 
 out from Fort Laramie to meet the Whirlwind's village. 
 Though aided by the high-bowed "mountain-saddle," I 
 could scarcely keep my seat on horseback. Before we 
 left the fort we hired another man, a long-haired Canadian, 
 with a face like an owl's, contrasting oddly enough with 
 Delorier's mercurial countenance. This was not the only 
 reinforcement to our party. A vagrant Indian trader, 
 named Reynal, joined us, together with his squaw, Mar- 
 got, and her two nephews, our dandy friend, " The Horse," 
 and his younger brother, "The Hail Storm." Thus ac- 
 companied, we betook ourselves to the prairie, leaving the 
 beaten trail, and passing over the desolate hills that flank 
 the bottoms of Laramie Creek. In all, Indians and whites, 
 we counted eight men and one woman. 
 
 Reynal, the trader, the image of sleek and selfish 
 complacency, carried "The Horse's" dragoon-sword in 
 his hand, delighting apparently in this useless parade; 
 for, from spending half his life among Indians, he had 
 caught not only their habits but their ideas. Margot, a 
 female animal of more than two hundred pounds' weight, 
 was couched in the basket of a travail, such as I have be- 
 fore described ; besides her ponderous bulk, various domes- 
 tic utensils were attached to the vehicle, and she was 
 leading by a trail-rope a pack-horse, which carried the 
 covering of Reynal's lodge. Delorier walked briskly by 
 the side of the cart, and Raymond came behind, swearing 
 at the spare horses which it was his business to drive. 
 The restless young Indians, their quivers at their backs 
 and their bows in their hands, galloped over the hills, 
 
110 THE OREGON TRAIL 
 
 often starting a wolf or an antelope from the thick growth 
 of wild-sage bushes. Shaw and I were in keeping with 
 the rest of the rude cavalcade, having, in the absence of 
 other clothing, adopted the buckskin attire of the trappers. 
 Henry Chatillon rode in advance of the whole. Thus we 
 passed hill after hill and hollow after hollow, a country 
 arid, broken, and so parched by the sun that none of the 
 plants famihar to our more favored soil would flourish 
 upon it, though there were multitudes of strange medic- 
 inal herbs, more especially the absanth, which covered 
 every declivity, and cacti were hanging like reptiles at 
 the edges of every ravine. At length we ascended a high 
 hill, our horses treading upon pebbles of flint, agate, and 
 rough jasper, until, gaining the top, we looked down on 
 the wild bottoms of Laramie Creek, which, far below us, 
 wound like a writhing snake from side to side of the nar- 
 row interval, amid a growth of shattered cotton-wood 
 and ash trees. Lines of tall cliffs, white as chalk, shut in 
 this green strip of w^oods and meadow-land, into which 
 w^e descended and encamped for the night. In the morn- 
 ing we passed a wide grassy plain by the river; there was 
 a grove in front, and beneath its shadows the ruins of an 
 old trading-fort of logs. The grove bloomed with myriads 
 of wild roses, with their sweet perfume fraught with 
 recollections of home. As we emerged from the trees, a 
 rattlesnake, as large as a man's arm and more than four 
 feet long, lay coiled on a rock, fiercely ratthng and hiss- 
 ing at us; a gray hare, double the size of those of New 
 England, leaped up from the tall ferns; curlew were 
 screaming over our heads, and a whole host of little prairie- 
 dogs sat yelping at us at the mouths of their burrows on 
 the dry plain beyond. Suddenly an antelope leaped up 
 from the wild-sage bushes, gazed eagerly at us, and then, 
 erecting his white tail, stretched away like a greyhound. 
 The two Indian boys found a white wolf, as large as a 
 calf, in a hollow, and giving a sharp yell, they gaUoped 
 after him ; but the wolf leaped into the stream and swam 
 across. Then came the crack of a rifle, the bullet whistling 
 harmlessly over his head, as he scrambled up the steep 
 declivity, rattling down stones and earth into the water 
 below. Advancing a httle, we beheld, on the farther 
 
THE WAR-PARTIES 111 
 
 bank of the stream, a spectacle not common even in that 
 region; for, emerging from among the trees, a herd of 
 some two hundred elk came out upon the meadow, their 
 antlers clattering as they walked forward in a dense 
 throng. Seeing us, they broke into a run, rushing across 
 the opening and disappearing among the trees and scat- 
 tered groves. On our left was a barren prairie, stretching 
 to the horizon; on our right, a deep gulf, with Laramie 
 Creek at the bottom. We found ourselves at length at 
 the edge of a steep descent; a narrow valley, with long 
 rank grass and scattered trees, stretching before us for a 
 mile or more along the course of the stream. Reaching 
 the farther end, we stopped and encamped. An old huge 
 cotton-wood tree spread its branches horizontally over 
 our tent. Laramie Creek, circling before our camp, half- 
 inclosed us; it swept along the bottom of a line of talL 
 white cliffs that looked down on us from the farther bank. 
 There were dense copses on our right; the cliffs, too, were 
 half -hidden by shrubbery, though behind us a few cotton- 
 wood trees, dotting the green prairie, alone impeded the 
 view, and friend or enemy could be discerned in that di- 
 rection at a mile's distance. Here we resolved to remain 
 and await the arrival of the Whirlwind, who would cer- 
 tainly pass this way in his progress toward La Bonte's 
 camp. To go in search of him was not expedient, both 
 on account of the broken and impracticable nature of the 
 country and the uncertainty of his position and move- 
 ments; besides, our horses were almost worn out, and I 
 was in no condition to travel. We had good grass, good 
 water, tolerable fish from the stream, and plenty of 
 smaller game, such as antelope and deer, though no 
 buffalo. There was one little drawback to our satisfac- 
 tion: a certain extensive tract of bushes and dried grass, 
 just behind us, which it was by no means advisable to 
 enter, since it sheltered a numerous brood of rattlesnakes. 
 Henry Chatillon again dispatched "The Horse" to the 
 village, with a message to his squaw that she and her 
 relatives should leave the rest and push on as rapidly as 
 possible to our camp. 
 
 Our daily routine soon became as regular as that of a 
 well-ordered household. The weather-beaten old tree 
 
112 THE OREGON TRAIL 
 
 was in the centre; our rifles generally rested against its 
 vast trunk, and our saddles were flung on the ground 
 around it; its distorted roots were so twisted as to form 
 one or two convenient arm-chairs, where we could sit in 
 the shade and read or smoke; but meal-times became, 
 on the whole, the most interesting hours of the day, and 
 a bountiful provision was made for them. An antelope 
 or a deer usually swung from a stout bough, and haunches 
 were suspended against the trunk. That camp is da- 
 guerreotyped on my memory; the old tree, the white 
 tent, with Shaw sleeping in the shadow of it, and ReynaFs 
 miserable lodge close by the bank of the stream. It was 
 a wretched oven-shaped structure, made of begrimed 
 and tattered buffalo-hides stretched over a frame of poles; 
 one side was open, and at the side of the opening hung 
 the powder-horn and bullet-pouch of the owner, together 
 with his long red pipe, and a rich quiver of otter-skin, 
 with a bow and arrows; for Reynal, an Indian in most 
 things but color, chose to hunt buffalo with these primi- 
 tive weapons. In the darkness of this cavern-like habi- 
 tation might be discerned Madame Margot, her overgrown 
 bulk stowed away among her domestic implements, 
 furs, robes, blankets, and painted cases of par' fleche, in 
 which dried meat is kept. Here she sat from sunrise to 
 sunset, a bloated impersonation of gluttony and laziness, 
 while her affectionate proprietor was smoking, or begging 
 petty gifts from us, or telling lies concerning his own 
 achievements, or perchance engaged in the more profit- 
 able occupation of cooking some preparation of prairie 
 delicacies. Reynal was an adept at this work; he and 
 Delorier have joined forces, and are hard at w^ork together 
 over the fire, while Raymond spreads, by way of table- 
 clothj a buffalo-hide carefully whitened with pipe-clay, 
 on the grass before the tent. Here, with ostentatious 
 display, he arranges the teacups and plates; and then, 
 creeping on all fours, like a dog, he thrusts his head in at 
 the opening of the tent. For a moment we see his round 
 owlish eyes rolling wildly, as if the idea he came to com- 
 municate had suddenly escaped him; then recollecting 
 his scattered thoughts, as if by an effort, he informs us 
 that supper is read}', and instantly withdraws. 
 
THE WAR-PARTIES 113 
 
 When sunset came, and at that hour the wild and 
 desolate scene would assume a new aspect, the horses 
 were driven in. They had been grazing all day in the 
 neighboring meadow, but now they were picketed close 
 about the camp. As the prairie darkened we sat and con- 
 versed around the fire, until becoming drowsy we spread 
 our saddles on the ground, wrapped our blankets around 
 us, and lay down. We never placed a guard, having by 
 this time become too indolent; but Henry Chatillon 
 folded his loaded rifle in the same blanket with himself, 
 observing that he always took it to bed with him when 
 he camped in that place. Henry was too bold a man to 
 use such a precaution without good cause. We had a 
 hint now and then that our situation was none of the 
 safest; several Crow war-parties were known to be in the 
 vicinit}^ and one of them, that passed here some time 
 before, had peeled the bark from a neighboring tree, and 
 engraved upon the white wood certain hieroglyphics, to 
 signify that they had invaded the territories of their 
 enemies, the Dahcotah, and set them at defiance. One 
 morning a thick mist covered the whole country. Shaw 
 and Henry went out to ride, and soon came back with a 
 startling piece of intelligence; they had found within 
 rifle-shot of our camp the recent trail of about thirty 
 horsemen. They could not be whites, and they could not 
 be Dahcotah, since we knew no such parties to be in the 
 neighborhood; therefore they must be Crows. Thanks 
 to that friendly mist, we had escaped a hard battle; they 
 would inevitably have attacked us and our Indian com- 
 panions had they seen our camp. Whatever doubts we 
 might have entertained were quite removed a day or two 
 after by two or three Dahcotah, who came to us with an 
 account of having hidden in a ravine on that very morn- 
 ing, from whence they saw and counted the Crows; they 
 said that they followed them, carefully keeping out of 
 sight, as they passed up Chugwater; that here the Crows 
 discovered five dead bodies of Dahcotah, placed accord- 
 ing to the national custom in trees, and flinging them to 
 the ground, they held their guns against them and blew 
 them to atoms. 
 
 If our camp were not altogether safe, still it was com- 
 
114 THE OREGON TRAIL 
 
 fortable enough; at least it was so to Shaw, for I was 
 tormented Avith illness and vexed by the delay in the 
 accomplishment of my designs. When a respite in my 
 disorder gave me some returning strength, I rode out 
 well armed upon the prairie, or bathed with Shaw in the 
 stream, or waged a petty warfare with the inhabitants 
 of a neighboring prairie-dog village. Around our fire at 
 night we employed ourselves in inveighing against the 
 fickleness and inconstancy of Indians, and execrating 
 the Whirlwind and all his village. At last the thing grew 
 insufferable. 
 
 '' To-morrow morning," said I, "I will start for the 
 fort, and see if I can hear any news there." Late that 
 evening, when the fire had sunk low, and all the camjD 
 were asleep, a loud cry sounded from the darkness. Henry 
 started up, recognized the voice, replied to it, and our 
 dandy friend, "The Horse," rode in among us, just re- 
 turned from his mission to the village. He coolly picketed 
 his mare, without saying a word, sat clovs^n b}' the fire and 
 began to eat, but his imperturbable philosophy was too 
 much for our patience. Where Avas the village? — about 
 fifty miles south of us; it was moving slowly and would 
 not arrive in less than a week; and where was Henry's 
 squaw? coming as fast as she could with Mahto-Tatonka, 
 and the rest of her brothers, but she would never reach 
 us, for she was dying, and asking every moment for 
 Henry. Henry's manly face became clouded and down- 
 cast; he said that if we were willing he would go in the 
 morning to find her, at which Shaw offered to accompany 
 him. 
 
 We saddled our horses at sunrise. Reynal protested 
 vehemently against being left alone, with nobody but 
 the two Canadians and the young Indians, when enemies 
 were in the neighborhood. Disregarding his complaints, 
 we left him, and coming to the mouth of Chugwater, 
 separated, Shaw and Henry turning to the right, up the 
 bank of the stream, while I made for the fort. 
 
 Taking leave for a while of my friend and the unfortu- 
 nate squaw, I will relate by way of episode what I saw 
 and did at Fort Laramie. It was not more than eighteen 
 miles distant, and I reached it in three hours ; a shrivelled 
 
THE WAR-PARTIES 115 
 
 little figure, wrapped from head to foot in a dingy white 
 Canadian capote, stood in the gateway, holding by a 
 cord of bull's hide a shaggy wild horse, which he had 
 lately caught. His sharp prominent features and his little 
 keen snake-like e3^es looked out from beneath the shadowy 
 hood of the capote, which was drawn over his head ex- 
 actly like the cowl of a Capuchin friar. His face was 
 extremely thin and like an old piece of leather, and his 
 mouth spread from ear to ear. Extending his long wiry 
 hand, he welcomed me with something more cordial than 
 the ordinary cold salute of an Indian, for we were ex- 
 cellent friends. He had made an exchange of horses to 
 our mutual advantage; and Paul, thinking himself well 
 treated, had declared everywhere that the white man had 
 a good heart. He v\'as a Dahcotah from the Missouri, a 
 reputed son of the half-breed interpreter, Pierre Dorion, 
 so often mentioned in Irving's "Astoria.'^ He said that 
 he was going to Richard's trading-house to sell his horse 
 to some emigrants who were encamped there, and asked 
 me to go with him. We forded the stream together, Paul 
 dragging his wild charge behind him. As Ave passed over 
 the sandy plains beyond, he grew quite communicative. 
 Paul was a cosmopolitan in his way; he had been to the 
 settlements of the whites, and visited in peace and war 
 most of the tribes within the range of a thousand miles. 
 He spoke a jargon of French and another of English, yet 
 nevertheless he was a thorough Indian; and as he told of 
 the bloody deeds of his own people against their enemies 
 his little eye would glitter with a fierce lustre. He told 
 how the Dahcotah exterminated a village of the Hohays 
 on the Upper Missouri, slaughtering men, women, and 
 children; and how an overwhelming force of them cut off 
 sixteen of the brave Delawares, who fought like wolves 
 to the last, amid the throng of their enemies. He told me 
 also another story, which I did not believe until I had 
 heard it confirmed from so many independent sources 
 that no room was left for doubt. I am tempted to intro- 
 duce it here. 
 
 Six years ago, a fellow named Jim Beckwith, a mongrel 
 of French, American, and negro blood, was trading for 
 the Fur Compan}", in a very large village of the Crows. 
 
116 THE OREGON TRAIL 
 
 Jim Beckwith was last summer at St. Louis. He is a 
 ruffian of the first stamp ; bloody and treacherous, without 
 honor or honesty; such at least is the character he bears 
 upon the prairie. Yet in his case all the standard rules of 
 character fail,, for though he will stab a man in his sleep, 
 he will also perform most desperate acts of daring; sucli, 
 for instance, as the following: While he was in the Crow 
 village, a Blackfoot war-party, between thirty and forty 
 in number, came stealing through the country, killing 
 stragglers and carrying off horses. The Crow warriors 
 got upon their trail and pressed them so closely that they 
 could not escape, at which the Blackfeet, throwing up a 
 semicircular breastwork of logs at the foot of a precipice, 
 coolly awaited their approach. The logs and sticks, piled 
 four or five feet high, protected them in front. The Crows 
 might have swept over the breastwork and exterminated 
 their enemies; but though outnumbering them tenfold, 
 they did not dream of storming the little fortification. 
 Such a proceeding would be altogether repugnant to their 
 notions of warfare. Whooping and yelling, and jumping 
 from side to side like devils incarnate, they showered 
 bullets and arrows upon the logs; not a Blackfoot was 
 hurt, but several Crows, in spite of their leaping and dodg- 
 ing, were shot down. In this childish manner, the fight 
 went on for an hour or two. Now and then a Crow 
 warrior in an ecstasy of valor and vainglory would scream 
 forth his war-song, boasting himself the bravest and 
 greatest of mankind, and grasping his hatchet, would rush 
 up and strike it upon the breastwork, and then as he re- 
 treated to his companions, fall dead under a shower of 
 arrows; yet no combined attack seemed to be dreamed of. 
 The Blackfeet remained secure in their intrenchment. 
 At last Jim Beckwith lost patience: 
 
 ^'You are all fools and old women, '^ he said to the 
 Crows; ''come with me, if any of you are brave enough, 
 and I will show you how to fight." 
 
 He threw off his trapper's frock of buckskin and stripped 
 himself naked Hke the Indians themselves. He left his rifle 
 on the ground, and taking in his hand a small light 
 hatchet, he ran over the prairie to the right, concealed 
 by a hollow from the eyes of the Blackfeet. Then climb- 
 
THE WAR-PARTIES 117 
 
 ing up the rocks, he gained the top of the precipice behind 
 them. Forty or fifty young Crow warriors followed him. 
 By the cries and whoops that rose from below he knew 
 that the Blackfeet were just beneath him; and running 
 forward he leaped dow^n the rock into the midst of them. 
 As he fell he caught one by the long loose hair, and, 
 dragging him down, tomahawked him; then grasping 
 another by the belt at his waist, he struck him also a 
 stunning blow, and gaining his feet, shouted the Crow 
 war-cry. He swung his hatchet so fiercely around him 
 that the astonished Blackfeet bore back and gave him 
 room. He might, had he chosen, have leaped over the 
 breastwork and escaped; but this was not necessary, for 
 with devilish yells the Crow warriors came dropping in 
 quick succession over the rock among their enemies. 
 The main body of the Crows, too, answered the cry from 
 the front, and rushed up simultaneously. The convul- 
 sive struggle within the breastwork was frightful; for an 
 instant the Blackfeet fought and yelled like pent-up tigers; 
 but the butchery was soon complete, ancl the mangled 
 bodies lay piled up together under the precipice. Not a 
 Blackfoot made his escape. 
 
 As Paul finished his story we came in sight of RicharcFs 
 fort. It stood in the middle of the plain; a disorderly 
 crowd of men around it, and an emigrant camp a little in 
 front. 
 
 ^^Now, Paul,'' said I, "where are your Minnicongew 
 lodges? " 
 
 "Not come yet,'' said Paul, "maybe come to-morrow." 
 
 Two large villages of a band of Dahcotah had come 
 three hundred miles from the Missouri to join in the war, 
 and they were expected to reach Richard's that morning. 
 There was as yet no sign of their approach; so pushing 
 through a noisy, drunken crowd, I entered an apartment 
 of logs and mud, the largest in the fort: it was full of men 
 of various races and complexions, all more or less drunk. 
 A company of California emigrants, it seemed, had made 
 the discovery at this late day that they had encumbered 
 themselves Avith too many supplies for their journey. A 
 part, therefore, they had thrown away or sold at great 
 loss to the traders, but had determined to get rid of their 
 
118 THE OREGON TRAIL 
 
 very copious stock of Missouri whiskey by drinking it on 
 the spot. Here were maucUin squaws stretched on piles 
 of buffalo-robes; squalid Mexicans, armed with bows and 
 arrows; Indians sedately drunk; long-haired Canadians 
 and trappers, and American backwoodsmen in brown 
 homespun; the well-beloved pistol and bowie-knife dis- 
 played openly at their sides. In the middle of the room 
 a tall, lank man, with a dingy broadcloth coat, was 
 haranguing the company in the style of the stump orator. 
 With one hand he sawed the air, and with the other 
 clutched firmly a brown jug of whiskey, which he applied 
 every moment to his lips, forgetting that he had drained 
 the contents long ago. Richard formally introduced me 
 to this personage; who was no less a man than Colonel R., 
 once the leader of the party. Instantly the Colonel, 
 seizing me, in the absence of buttons, by the leather 
 fringes of m}^ frock, began to define his position. His 
 men, he said, had mutinied and deposed him; but still he 
 exercised over them the influence of a superior mind; in 
 all but the name he was yet their chief. As the Colonel 
 spoke, I looked round on the wild assemblage, and could 
 not help thinking that he was but ill qualified to conduct 
 such men across the deserts to California. Conspicuous 
 among the rest stood three tall young men, grandsons of 
 Daniel Boone. They had clearly inherited the adventur- 
 ous character of that prince of pioneers, but I saw no 
 signs of the quiet and tranquil spirit that so remarkably 
 distinguished him. 
 
 Fearful was the fate that months after overtook some 
 of the members of that party. General Kearney, on his 
 late return from California, brought in the account how 
 they were interrupted by the deep snows among the 
 mountains, and, maddened by cold and hunger, fed upon 
 each other's flesh! 
 
 I got tired of the confusion. ''Come, Paul," said I, 
 "we will be off." Paul sat in the sun, under the wall of 
 the fort. He jumped up, mounted, and we rode toward 
 Fort Laramie. When we reached it, a man came out of 
 the gate with a pack at his back and a rifle on his shoulder; 
 others were gathering about him, shaking him by. the 
 hand, as if taking leave. I thought it a strange thing that 
 
THE WAR-PARTIES 119 
 
 a man should set out alone and on foot for the prairie. I 
 soon got an explanation. Perrault — this, if I recollect 
 right, was the Canadian's name — had quarrelled with the 
 bourgeois, and the fort was too hot to hold him, Bordeaux, 
 inflated with his transient authority, had abused him, and 
 received a blow in return. The men then sprang at each 
 other, and grappled in the middle of the fort. Bordeaux 
 was down in an instant, at the mercy of the incensed 
 Canadian; had not an old IncHan, the brother of his 
 squaw, seized hold of his antagonist, he would have fared 
 ill. Perrault broke loose from the old Indian, and both 
 the white men ran to their rooms for their guns ; but when 
 Bordeaux, looking from his door, saw the Canadian, gun 
 in hand, standing in the area and calling on him to come 
 out and fight, his heart failed him; he chose to remain 
 where he was. In vain the old Indian, scandalized by his 
 brother-in-law's cowardice, called upon him to go upon 
 the prairie and fight it out in the w^hite man's manner; 
 and Bordeaux's own squaw, equally incensed, screamed 
 to her lord and master that he was a dog and an old 
 woman. It all availed nothing. Bordeaux's prudence 
 got the better of his valor, and he would not stir. Perrault 
 stood showering opprobrious epithets at the recreant 
 bourgeois. Growing tired of this, he made up a pack of 
 dried meat, and slinging it at his back, set out alone for 
 Fort Pierre, on the Missouri, a distance of three hundred 
 miles, over a desert country, full of hostile Indians. 
 
 I remained in the fort that night. In the morning as I 
 was coming out from breakfast, conversing with a trader 
 named McCluskey, I saw a strange Indian leaning against 
 the side of the gate. He was a tall, strong man, with 
 heavy features. 
 
 ^^ Who is he?" I asked. 
 
 "That's the Whirlwind," said McCluskey. "He is the 
 fellow that made all this stir about the war. It's always 
 the way with the Sioux; they never stop cutting each 
 other's throats; it's all they are fit for; instead of sitting 
 in their lodges, and getting robes to trade with us in the 
 winter. If this war goes on, we'll make a poor trade of it 
 next season, I reckon." 
 
 And this was the opinion of all the traders, who were 
 
120 THE OREGON TRAIL 
 
 vehemently opposed to the war, from the serious injury 
 that it must occasion to their interests. The Whirlwind 
 left his village the day before to make a visit to the 
 fort. His warlike ardor had abated not a little since 
 he first conceived the design of avenging his son's death. 
 The long and complicated preparations for the expedi- 
 tion were too much for his fickle, inconstant disposition. 
 That morning Bordeaux fastened upon him, made him 
 presents, and told him that if he went to war he would 
 destroy his horses and kill no buffalo to trade with the 
 white men; in short, that he Avas a fool to think of such 
 a thing, and had better make up his mind to sit quietly 
 in his lodge and smoke his pipe, like a wise man. The 
 Whirlwind's purpose was evidently shaken; he had be- 
 come tired, like a child, of his favorite plan. Bordeaux 
 exultingly predicted that he would not go to war. My 
 philanthropy at that time was no match for my curiosity, 
 and I was vexed at the possibility that after all I might 
 lose the rare opportunity of seeing the formidable cere- 
 monies of war. The Whirlwind, however, had merely 
 thrown the firebrand; the conflagration was become 
 general. All the western bands of the Dahcotah were 
 bent on war; and as I heard from McCluskey, six large 
 villages were already gathered on a little stream, forty 
 miles distant, and were daily calling to the Great Spirit 
 to aid them in their enterprise. McCluskey had just left 
 them, and represented them as on their way to La Bonte's 
 camp, which they would reach in a week, unless they 
 should learn that there were no buffalo there. I did not like 
 this condition, for buffalo this season were rare in the 
 neighborhood. There were also the two Minnicongew 
 villages that I mentioned before; but about noon an 
 Indian came from Richard's fort with the news that they 
 were quarrelling, breaking up, and dispersing. So much 
 for the whiskey of the emigrants! Finding themselves 
 unable to drink the whole, they had sold the residue to 
 these Indians, and it needed no prophet to foretell the 
 result; a spark dropped into a powder-magazine would 
 not have produced a quicker effect. Instantly the old 
 jealousies and rivalries and smothered feuds that exist 
 in an Indian village broke out into furious quarrels. 
 
THE WAR-PARTIES 121 
 
 They forgot the warlike enterprise that had already 
 brought them three hundred miles. They seemed like 
 ungoverned children inflamed with the fiercest passions 
 of men. Several of them were stabbed in the drunken 
 tumult; and in the morning they scattered and moved 
 back toward the Missouri in small parties. I feared that, 
 after all, the long-projected meeting and the ceremonies 
 that were to attend it might never take place, and I 
 should lose so admirable an opportunity of seeing the 
 -Indian under his most fearful and characteristic aspect; 
 however, in foregoing this, I should avoid a very fair 
 probability of being plundered and stripped, and, it might 
 be, stabbed or shot into the bargain. Consoling myself 
 with this reflection, I prepared to carry the news, such as 
 it was, to the camp. 
 
 I caught my horse, and to my vexation found he had 
 lost a shoe and broken his tender white hoof against the 
 rocks. Horses are shod at Fort Laramie at the moderate 
 rate of three dollars a foot ; so I tied Hendrick to a beam 
 in the corral, and summoned Roubidou, the blacksmith. 
 Roubidou, with the hoof between his knees, was at work 
 with hammer and file, and I was inspecting the process, 
 when a strange voice addressed me. 
 
 "Two more gone under! Well, there is more of us 
 left yet. Here's Jean Gras and me off to the mountains 
 to-morrow. Our turn will come next, I suppose. It's a 
 hard life, anyhow!" 
 
 I looked up and saw a little man, not much more than 
 five feet high, but of very square and strong proportions. 
 In appearance he was particularly dingy; for his old 
 buckskin frock was black and polished with time and 
 grease, and his belt, knife, pouch, and powder-horn ap- 
 peared to have seen the roughest service. The first joint 
 of each foot was entirely gone, having been frozen off 
 several winters before, and his moccasins were curtailed 
 in proportion. His whole appearance and equipment 
 bespoke the "free trapper." He had a round ruddy face, 
 animated with a spirit of carelessness and gayety not at 
 all in accordance with the words he had just spoken. 
 
 '' 'Two more gone,' " said I; "what do you mean by 
 that?" 
 
122 THE OREGON TRAIL 
 
 "Oh," said he, "the Arapahoes have just killed two 
 of us in the mountains. Old Bull-Tail has come to tell 
 us. They stabbed one behind his back, and shot the other 
 with his own rifle. That's the way we live here ! I mean 
 to give up trapping after this year. My squaw says she 
 wants a pacing horse and some red ribbons: I'll make 
 enough beaver to get them for her, and then I'm done! 
 I'll go below and live on a farm," 
 
 "Your bones will dry on the prairie, Rouleau!" said 
 another trapper, who was standing by; a strong, brutal- 
 looking fellow, with a face as surly as a bulldog's. 
 
 Rouleau only laughed, and began to hum a tune and 
 shuffle a dance on his stumps of feet. 
 
 " You'll see us, before long, passing up your way," said 
 the other man. 
 
 "Well," said I, "stop and take a cup of coffee with 
 us " ; and as it was quite late in the afternoon, I prepared 
 to leave the fort at once. 
 
 As I rode out a train of emigrant wagons was passing 
 across the stream. "Whar are ye goin', stranger?'^ 
 Thus I was saluted by two or three voices at once. 
 
 "About eighteen miles up the creek." 
 
 "It's mighty late to be going that far! Make haste, 
 ye'd better, and keep a bright lookout for Indians ! " 
 
 I thought the advice too good to be neglected. Fording 
 the stream, I passed at a round trot over the plains be- 
 yond. But "the more haste, the worse speech'^ I proved 
 the truth of the proverb by the time I reached the hills 
 three miles from the fort. The trail was faintly marked, 
 and riding forward with more rapidity than caution, I 
 lost sight of it. I kept on in a direct line, guided by 
 Laramie Creek, which I could see at intervals darkly 
 glistening in the evening sun, at the bottom of the woody 
 gulf on my right. Half an hour before sunset I came upon 
 its banks. There was something exciting in the wild 
 solitude of the place. An antelope sprang suddenly from 
 the sage bushes before me. As he leaped gracefully not 
 thirty yards before my horse, I fired, and instantly he spun 
 round and fell. Quite sure of him, I walked my horse 
 toward him, leisurely reloading my rifle, when, to my 
 surprise, he sprang up and trotted rapidly away on three 
 
THE WAR-PARTIES 123 
 
 legs into the dark recesses of the hills, whither I had no 
 time to follow. Ten minutes after, I was passing along 
 the bottom of a deep valley, and chancing to look behind 
 me, I saw in the dim light that something was following. 
 Supposing it to be a wolf, I slid from my seat and sat 
 down behind my horse to shoot it; but as it came up, 
 I saw by its motions that it was another antelope. It 
 approached within a hundred yards, arched its graceful 
 neck, and gazed intently. I levelled at the white spot on 
 its chest, and was about to fire, when it started off, ran 
 first to one side and then to the other, like a vessel tack- 
 ing against a wind, and at last stretched away at full 
 speed. Then it stopped again, looked curiously behind it, 
 and trotted up as before; but not so boldly, for it soon 
 paused and stood gazing at me. I fired; it leaped upward 
 and fell upon its tracks. Measuring the distance, I found 
 it two hundred and four paces. When I stood b}^ his side, 
 the antelope turned his expiring eye upward. It was like 
 a beautiful woman's, dark and rich. "Fortunate that I 
 am in a hurry," thought I; "I might be troubled with 
 remorse, if I had time for it." 
 
 Cutting the animal up, not in the most skilful manner, 
 I hung the meat at the back of my saddle, and rode on 
 again. The hills (I could not remember one of them) 
 closed around me. "It is too late," thought I, "to go 
 forward. I will stay here to-night, and look for the path 
 in the morning." As a last effort, however, I ascended 
 a high hill, from which, to my great satisfaction, I could 
 see Laramie Creek stretching before me, twisting from 
 side to side amid ragged patches of timber; and far off, 
 close beneath the shadows of the trees, the ruins of the 
 old trading-fort were visible. I reached them at twilight. 
 It was far from pleasant, in that uncertain light, to be 
 pushing through the dense trees and shrubbery of the 
 grove beyond. I listened anxiously for the foot-fall of 
 man or beast. Nothing was stirring but one harmless 
 brown bird, chirping among the branches. I was glad 
 when I gained the open prairie once more, where I could 
 see if anything approached. When I came to the mouth 
 of Chugwater it was totally dark. Slackening the reins, I 
 let my horse take his own course. He trotted on with 
 
124 THE OREGON TRAIL 
 
 unerring instinct, and by nine o'clock was scrambling 
 clown the steep descent into the meadows where we were 
 encamped. While I was looking in vain for the light of 
 the fire, Hendrick, with keener perceptions, gave a loud 
 neigh, which was immediately answered in a shrill note 
 from the distance. In a moment I was hailed from the 
 darkness by the voice of Reynal, who had come out, 
 rifle in hand, to^ see who was approaching. 
 
 He, with his squaw, the two Canadians, and the Indian 
 boys, were the sole inmates of the camp, Shaw and Henry 
 Chatillon being still absent. At noon of the following day 
 they came back, their horses looking none the better for 
 the journey. Henry seemed dejected. The woman was 
 dead, and his children must hencefoi^ward be exposed, 
 without a protector, to the hardships and vicissitudes of 
 Indian life. Even in the midst of his grief he had not 
 forgotten his attachment to his bourgeois, for he had 
 procured among his Indian relatives two beautifully 
 ornamented buffalo-robes, which he spread on the ground 
 as a present to us. 
 
 Shaw lighted his pipe, and told me in a few words the 
 history of his journey. When I went to the fort they left 
 me, as I mentioned, at the mouth of Chugwater. They 
 followed the course of the little stream all day, traversing 
 a desolate and barren country. Several times they came 
 upon the fresh traces of a large war-party, the same, no 
 doubt, from whom we had so narrowly escaped an attack. 
 At an hour before sunset, without encountering a human 
 being by the way, they came upon the lodges of the 
 squaw and her brothers, who, in compliance with Henry's 
 message, had left the Indian village, in order to join us at 
 our camp. The lodges were already pitched, five in num- 
 ber, by the side of the stream. The woman lay in one of 
 them, reduced to a mere skeleton. For some time she had 
 been unable to move or speak. Indeed, nothing had kept 
 her alive but the hope of seeing Henry, to whom she was 
 strongly and faithfully attached. No sooner did he enter 
 the lodge than she revived, and conversed with him the 
 greater part of the night. Early in the morning she was 
 lifted into a travail, and the whole party set out toward 
 our camp. There were but five warriors; the rest were 
 
THE WAR-PARTIES 125 
 
 women and children. The whole were in great alarm at 
 the proximit}^ of the Crow war-party, who would certainly 
 have destroyed them without mercy had they met. They 
 had advanced only a mile or two when they discerned 
 a horseman, far off, on the edge of the horizon. They all 
 stopped, gathering together in the greatest anxiety, from 
 which they did not recover until long after the horseman 
 disappeared; then they set out again. Henry was riding 
 with Shaw, a few rods in advance of the Indians, when 
 Mahto-Tatonka, a younger brother of the woman, hastily 
 called after them. Turning back, they found all the 
 Indians crowded around the travail in which the woman 
 was lying. They reached her just in time to hear the 
 death-rattle in her throat. In a moment she lay dead 
 in the basket of the vehicle. A complete stillness suc- 
 ceeded; then the Indians raised in concert their cries of 
 lamentation over the corpse, and among them Shaw 
 clearly distinguished those strange sounds resembling the 
 word '^ Halleluyah," which, together with some other 
 accidental coincidences, has given rise to the absurd 
 theory that the Indians are descended from the ten lost 
 tribes of Israel. 
 
 The Indian usage required that Henry, as well as the 
 other relatives of the woman, should make valuable 
 presents, to be placed by the side of the body at its last 
 resting-place. Leaving the Indians, he and Shaw set out 
 for the camp and reached it, as we have seen, by hard 
 pushing, at about noon. Having obtained the necessary 
 articles, they immediately returned. It was very late and 
 quite dark when they again reached the lodges. They 
 were all placed in a deep hollow among the dreary hills. 
 Four of them were just visible through the gloom, but the 
 fifth and largest was illuminated by the ruddy blaze of a 
 fire within, glowing through the half -transparent covering 
 of raw-hides. There was a perfect stillness as they ap- 
 proached. The lodges seemed without a tenant. Not a 
 living thing was stirring — there was something awful in 
 the scene. They rode up to the entrance of the lodge, and 
 there was no sound but the tramp of their horses. A 
 squaw came out and took charge of the animals, without 
 speaking a word. Entering, they found the lodge crowded 
 
126 THE OREGON TRAIL 
 
 with Indians; a fire was burning in the midst, and the 
 mourners encircled it in a triple row. Room was made 
 for the new-comers at the head of the lodge, a robe spread 
 for them to sit upon, and a pipe lighted and handed to 
 them in perfect silence. Thus they passed the greater 
 part of the night. At times the fire would subside into a 
 heap of embers, until the dark figures seated around it 
 were scarcely visible; then a squaw would drop upon it a 
 piece of buffalo-fat, and a bright flame, instantly springing 
 up, would reveal on a sudden the crowd of wild faces, 
 motionless as bronze. The silence continued unbroken. 
 It was a relief to Shaw when daylight returned and he 
 could escape from this house of mourning. He and Henry 
 prepared to return homeward; first, however, they placed 
 the presents they had brought near the body of the 
 squaw, which, most gaudily attired, remained in a sitting 
 posture in one of the lodges. A fine horse was picketed 
 not far off, destined to be killed • that morning for the 
 service of her spirit, for the woman was lame, and could 
 not travel on foot over the dismal prairies to the villages 
 of the dead. Food, too, was provided, and household 
 implements, for her use upon this last journey. 
 
 Henry left her to the care of her relatives, and came 
 immediately wdth Shaw to the camp. It was some time 
 before he entirely recovered from his dejection. 
 
 CHAPTER XI 
 
 SCENES AT THE CAMP 
 
 "Fierce are Albania's children; yet they lack 
 Not virtues, were those virtues more mature; 
 Where is the foe that ever saw their back? 
 Who can so well the toil of war endure? " 
 
 Childe Harold. 
 
 Reynal heard guns fired one day at the distance of a 
 mile or two from the camp. He grew nervous instantly. 
 Visions of Crow war-parties began to haunt his imagina- 
 tion; and when we returned (for we were all absent) he 
 renewed his complaints about being left alone with the 
 
SCENES AT THE CAMP 127 
 
 Canadians and the squaw. The day after the cause of the 
 alarm appeared. Four trappers, one called Moran, an- 
 other Saraphin, and the others nicknamed " Rouleau '^ 
 and "Jean Gras/' came to our camp and joined us. They 
 it was who fired the guns and disturbed the dreams of our 
 confederate Reynal. They soon encamped by our side. 
 Their rifles, dingy and battered with hard service, rested 
 with ours against the old tree; their strong, rude saddles, 
 their buffalo-robes, their traps, and the few rough and 
 simple articles of their travelling equipment were piled 
 near our tent. Their mountain-horses were turned to 
 graze in the meadow among our own ; and the men them- 
 selves, no less rough and hardy, used to lie half the day 
 in the shade of our tree, lolling on the grass, lazily smok- 
 ing, and telling stories of their adventures; and I defy 
 the annals of chivalry to furnish the record of a life more 
 wild and perilous than that of a Rocky Mountain trapper. 
 
 With this efficient reinforcement the agitation of 
 ReynaFs nerves subsided. He began to conceive a sort 
 of attachment to our old camping-ground ; yet it was time 
 to change our quarters, since remaining too long on one 
 spot must lead to certain unpleasant results, not to be 
 borne with unless in a case of dire necessity. The grass 
 no longer presented a smooth surface of turf; it was 
 trampled into mud and clay. So we removed to another 
 old tree, larger yet, that grew by the river side at a fur- 
 long's distance. Its trunk was full six feet in diameter; 
 on one side it was marked by a party of Indians with 
 various inexplicable hieroglyphics, commemorating some 
 warhke enterprise, and aloft among the branches were 
 the remains of a scaffolding, where dead bodies had once 
 been deposited, after the Indian manner. 
 
 '•There comes Bull-Bear," said Henry Chatillon, as 
 we sat on the grass at dinner. Looking up, we saw several 
 horsemen coming over the neighboring hill, and in a 
 moment four stately young men rode up and dismounted. 
 One of them was Bull-Bear, or Mahto-Tatonka, a com- 
 pound name which he inherited from his father, the most 
 powerful chief in the Ogillallah band. One of his brothers 
 and two other young men accompanied him. We shook 
 hands with the visitors, and when we had finished our 
 
128 THE OREGON TRAIL 
 
 meal — for this is the orthodox manner of entertaining 
 Indians, even the best of them — we handed to each a tin 
 cup of coffee and a biscuit, at which they ejaculated from 
 the bottom of their throats, "How! how!" a monosyllable 
 by which an Indian contrives to express half the emo- 
 tions that he is susceptible of. Then we lighted the pipe, 
 and passed it to them as they squatted on the ground. 
 
 "Where is the village?" 
 
 "There," said Mahto-Tatonka, pointing southward; 
 ^'it will come in two days." 
 
 " Will thev go to the war? " 
 
 "Yes." \ ^ 
 
 No man is a philanthropist on the prairie. We wel- 
 comed this news most cordially, and congratulated our- 
 selves that Bordeaux's interested efforts to divert tlie 
 Whirlwind from his congenial vocation of bloodshed had 
 failed of success, and that no -additional obstacles would 
 interpose between us and our plan of repairing to the 
 rendezvous at La Bonte's camp. 
 
 For that and several succeeding days Mahto-Tatonka 
 and his friends remained our guests. They devoured the 
 relics of our meals; they filled the pipe for us, and also 
 helped us to smoke it. Sometimes they stretched them- 
 selves side by side in the shade, indulging in raillery and 
 practical jokes, ill becoming the dignity of brave and 
 aspiring warriors, such as two of them in reality were. 
 
 Two days dragged away, and on the morning of the 
 third we hoped confidently to see the Indian village. It 
 did not come; so we rode out to look for it. In place of 
 the eight hundred Indians we expected, we met one 
 solitary savage riding toward us over the prairie, who 
 told us that the Indians had changed their plan, and 
 w^ould not come within three dsiys: still he persisted that 
 they were going to the war. Taking along Avith us this 
 messenger of evil tidings, we retraced our footsteps to 
 the camp, amusing ourselves by the way with execrat- 
 ing Indian inconstancy. When we came in sight of our 
 little white tent under the big tree we saw that it no 
 longer stood alone. A huge old lodge was erected close 
 by its side, discolored by rain and storms, rotten with 
 age, with the uncouth figures of horses and men, and 
 
SCENES AT THE CAMP 129 
 
 outstretched hands that were painted upon it, wellnigh 
 obhterated. The long poles which supported this squalid 
 habitation thrust themselves rakishly out from its pointed 
 top, and over its entrance were suspended a "medicine- 
 pipe" and various other implements of the magic art. 
 While we were yet at a distance we observed a greatly 
 increased population, of various colors and dimensions, 
 swarming around our quiet encampment. Moran, the 
 trapper, having been absent for a day or two, had re- 
 turned, it seemed, bringing all his family with him. He 
 had taken to himself a wife, for whom he had paid the 
 established price of one horse. This looks cheap at first 
 sight; but in truth the purchase of a squaw is a transac- 
 tion which no man should enter into without mature 
 deliberation, since it involves not only the payment of 
 the first price, but the formidable burden of feeding and 
 supporting a rapacious horde of the bride's relatives, 
 who hold themselves entitled to feed upon the indis- 
 creet white man. They gather round like leeches and 
 drain him of all he has. 
 
 Moran, like Reynal, had not allied himself to an aristo- 
 cratic circle. His relatives occupied but a contemptible 
 position in Ogillallah society; for among these wild demo- 
 crats of the prairie, as among us, there are virtual dis- 
 tinctions of rank and place; though this great advantage 
 they have over us, that wealth has no part in determining 
 such distinctions. Moran's partner was not the most 
 beautiful of her sex, and he had the exceedingly bad taste 
 to array her in an old calico gown, bought from an emi- 
 grant woman, instead of the neat and graceful . tunic of 
 whitened ^deer-skin worn ordinarily by the squaws. The 
 moving spirit of the establishment, in more senses than 
 one, was a hideous old hag of eighty. Human imagina- 
 tion never conceived hobgoblin or witch more ugly than 
 she. You could count all her ribs through the wrinkles 
 of the leathery skin that covered them. Her withered 
 face more resembled an old skull than the countenance 
 of a living being, even to the hollow, darkened sockets, 
 at the bottom of which glittered her little black eyes. 
 Her arms had dwindled away into nothing but whip-cord 
 and wire. Her hair, half black, half gray, hung in total 
 
130 THE OREGON TRAIL 
 
 neglect nearly to the ground, and her sole garment con- 
 ;sisted of the remnant of a discarded buffalo-robe tied 
 round her waist with a string of hide. Yet the old squaw's 
 meagre anatomy was wonderfully strong. She pitched 
 the lodge, packed the horses, and did the hardest labor 
 of the camp. From morning till night she bustled about 
 the lodge, screaming like a screech-owl when anything 
 displeased her. Then there was her brother, a '' medicine- 
 man,'' or magician, equally gaunt and sinewy with her- 
 self. His mouth spread from ear to ear, and his appetite, 
 as we had full occasion to learn, was ravenous in propor- 
 tion. The other inmates of the lodge wxre a young bride 
 and bridegroom; the latter one of those idle, good-for- 
 nothing fellows Avho infest an Indian village as well as 
 more civilized communities. He was fit neither for hunt- 
 ing nor for w^ar; and one might infer as much from the 
 stolid, unmeaning expression of his face. The happy 
 pair had just entered upon the honeymoon. They would 
 stretch a buffalo-robe upon poles, so as to protect them 
 from the fierce rays of the sun, and spreading beneath 
 this rough canopy a luxuriant couch of furs, would sit 
 affectionately side by side for half the day, though I could 
 not discover that much conversation passed between 
 them. Probably they had nothing to say; for an Indian's 
 supply of topics for conversation is far from being copious. 
 There were half a dozen children, too, plaA'ing and whoop- 
 ing about the camp, shooting birds with little bows and 
 arrows, or making miniature lodges of sticks, as children 
 of a different complexion build houses of blocks. 
 
 A day passed and Indians began rapidly to come in. 
 Parties of two or three or more would ride up and silently 
 seat themselves on the grass. The fourth day came at 
 last, when about noon horsemen suddenh^ appeared into 
 view on the summit of the neighboring ridge. They 
 descended, and behind them followed a wild procession, 
 hurrying in haste and disorder down the hill and over the 
 plain below: horses, mules, and dogs, heavily burdened 
 travaux, mounted warriors, squaws walking amid the 
 throng, and a host of children. For a full half-hour they 
 continued to pour down ; and keeping directly to the bend 
 •of the stream, within a furlong of us, they soon assembled 
 
SCENES AT THE CAMP 131 
 
 there, a dark and confused throng, until, as if by magic^ 
 a hundred and fifty tall lodges sprung up. On a sudden 
 the lonely plain was transformed into the site of a minia- 
 ture city. Countless horses were soon grazing over the 
 meadows around us, and the whole prairie was animated 
 by restless figures careering on horseback or sedately 
 stalking in their long white robes. The Whirlwind was 
 come at last ! One question yet remained to be answered : 
 " Will he go to the war, in order that we, with so respect- 
 able an escort, may pass over to the somewhat perilous 
 rendezvous at La Bonte's camp?" 
 
 Still this remained in doubt. Characteristic indecision 
 perplexed their councils. Indians cannot act in large 
 bodies. Though their object be of the highest impor- 
 tance, they cannot combine to attain it by a series of 
 connected efforts. King Philip, Pontiac, and Tecumseh^ 
 all felt this to their cost. The Ogillallah once had a 
 war-chief who could control them, but he was dead, and 
 now they were left to the sway of their own unsteady 
 impulses. 
 
 This Indian village and its inhabitants will hold a 
 prominent place in the rest of the narrative, and perhaps 
 it may not be amiss to glance for an instant at the savage 
 people of which they form a part. The Dahcotah (I pre- 
 fer this national designation to the unmeaning French 
 name, Sioux) range over a vast territory from the river 
 St. Peter's to the Rocky Mountains themselves. They 
 are divided into several independent bands, united under 
 no central government and acknowledging no common 
 head. The same language, usages, and superstitions 
 form the sole bond between them. They do not unite 
 even in their wars. The bands of the east fight the 
 Objibwas on the Upper Lakes; those of the west make 
 incessant war upon the Snake Indians in the Rocky Moun- 
 tains. As the whole people is divided into bands, so each 
 band is divided into villages. Each village has a chief, 
 who is honored and obeyed onty so far as his personal 
 qualities may command respect and fear. Sometimes 
 he is a mere nominal chief; sometimes his authority is 
 little short .of absolute, and his fame and influence reack 
 even beyond his own village; so that the whole band to- 
 
132 THE OREGON TRAIL 
 
 which he belongs is ready to acknowledge him as their 
 head. This was, a few years since, the case with the 
 Ogillallah. Courage, address, and enterprise may raise 
 any warrior to the highest honor, especially if he be the 
 son of a former chief, or a member of a numerous family, 
 to support him and avenge his quarrels; but when he has 
 reached the dignity of chief, and the old men and warriors, 
 by a peculiar ceremony, have formally installed him, let 
 it not be imagined that he assumes any of the outward 
 semblances of rank and honor. He knows too well on how 
 frail a tenure he holds his station. He must conciliate 
 his uncertain subjects. Many a man in the village lives 
 better, owns more squaws and more horses, and goes 
 better clad than he. Like the Teutonic chiefs of old, he 
 ingratiates himself with his young men by making them 
 presents, thereby often impoverishing himself. Does he 
 fail in gaining their favor, they will set his authority at 
 naught, and may desert him at any moment; for the 
 usages of his people have provided no sanctions by which 
 he may enforce his authority. Very seldom does it happen, 
 at least among these western bands, that a chief attains 
 too much power, unless he is the head of a numerous 
 family. Frequently the village is principally made up of 
 his relatives and descendants, and the wandering com- 
 munity assumes much of the patriarchal character. A 
 people so loosely united, torn, too, with rankling feuds 
 and jealousies, can have little power or efficiency. 
 
 The western Dahcotah have no fixed habitations. 
 Hunting and fighting, they wander incessantly, through 
 summer and winter. Some are following the herds of 
 buffalo over the waste of prairie; others are traversing 
 the Black Hills, thronging, on horseback and on foot, 
 through the dark gulfs and sombre gorges, beneath the 
 vast splintering precipices, and emerging at last upon the 
 ''Parks," those beautiful but most perilous hunting- 
 grounds. The buffalo supplies them with almost all the 
 necessaries of life; with habitations, food, clothing, and 
 fuel; with strings for their bows, with thread, cordage, 
 and trail-ropes for their horses, with coverings for their 
 saddles, with vessels to hold water, with boats to cross 
 streams, with glue, and with the means of purchasing all 
 
SCENES AT THE CAMP 133 
 
 that they desire from the traders. When the buffalo are 
 extinct, they too must dwindle away. 
 
 War is the breath of their nostrils. Against most of 
 the neighboring tribes they cherish a deadly, rancorous 
 hatred, transmitted from father to son, and inflamed by 
 constant aggression and retaliation. Many times a year, 
 in every village, the Great Spirit is called upon, fasts are 
 made, the war-parade is celebrated, and the warriors go 
 out by handfuls at a time against the enemy. This fierce 
 and evil spirit awakens their most eager aspirations and 
 calls forth their greatest energies. It is chiefly this that 
 saves them from lethargy and utter abasement. Without 
 its powerful stimulus they would be like the unwarHke 
 tribes beyond the mountains, who are scattered among the 
 caves and rocks like beasts, living on roots and reptiles. 
 These latter have little of humanity except the form ; but 
 the proud and ambitious Dahcotah warrior can sometimes 
 boast of heroic virtues. It is very seldom that distinction 
 and influence are attained among them by any other course 
 than that of arms. Their superstition, however, some- 
 times gives great power to those among them who pretend 
 to the character of magicians. Their wild hearts, too, can 
 feel the power of oratory, and yield deference to the mas- 
 ters of it. 
 
 But to return. Look into our tent, or enter, if you can 
 bear the stifling smoke and the close atmosphere. There, 
 wedged close together, you w^ill see a circle of stout war- 
 riors passing the pipe around, joking, telling stories, and 
 making themselves merry, after their fashion. We were 
 also infested by little copper-colored naked boys and 
 snake-eyed girls. They would come up to us muttering 
 certain words, which, being interpreted, conveyed the 
 concise invitation, "Come and eat." Then we would 
 rise, cursing the pertinacity of Dahcotah hospitality, 
 which allowed scarcely an hour of rest betw^een sun and 
 sun, and to which we were bound to do honor, unless we 
 would offend our entertainers. This necessity was par- 
 ticularly burdensome to me, as I was scarcely able to 
 walk from the effects of illness, and was, of course, poorly 
 qualified to dispose of twenty meals a day. Of these 
 sumptuous banquets, I gave a specimen in a former 
 
134 THE OREGON TRAIL 
 
 chapter, where the tragical fate of the Httle dog was 
 chronicled. So bounteous an entertainment looks like 
 an outgushing of good-will; but doubtless one-half, at 
 least, of our kind hosts, had they met us alone and un- 
 armed on the prairie, would have robbed us of our horses, 
 and, perchance, have bestowed an arrow upon us besides. 
 Trust not an Indian. Let your rifle be ever in your hand. 
 Wear next your heart the old chivalric motto, " Semper 
 paratusJ' 
 
 One morning we were summoned to the lodge of an 
 old man, in good truth the Nestor of his tribe. We found 
 him half-sitting, half-reclining on a pile of buffalo-robes; 
 his long hair, jet-black even now, though he had seen 
 some eighty winters, hung on either side of his thin fea- 
 tures. Those most conversant with Indians in their homes 
 will scarcely believe me when I affirm that there was 
 dignity in his countenance and mien. His gaunt but 
 symmetrical frame did not more clearly exhibit the wreck 
 of by-gone strength than did his dark, wasted features, 
 still prominent and commanding, bear the stamp of men- 
 tal energies. I recalled, as I saw him, the eloquent meta- 
 phor of the Iroquois sachem : " I am an aged hemlock ; the 
 winds of an hundred winters have whistled through my 
 branches, and I am dead at the top ! " Opposite the patri- 
 arch was his nephew, the 3^oung aspirant, Mahto-Tatonka; 
 and besides these there were one or two women in the 
 lodge. 
 
 The old man's story is peculiar, and singularly illus- 
 trative of a superstitious custom that prevails in full force 
 among many of the Indian tribes. He Avas one of a power- 
 jful family, renowned for their w^arlike exploits. When 
 a very young man he submitted to the singular rite to 
 which most of the tribe subject themselves before enter- 
 ing upon life. He painted his face black; then seeking 
 out a cavern in a sequestered part of the Black Hills, he 
 lay for several days, fasting and pra3'ing to the Great 
 Spirit. In the dreams and visions produced by his weak- 
 ened and excited state he fancied, like all Indians, that 
 he saw supernatural revelations. Again and again the 
 form of an antelope appeared before him. The antelope 
 is the graceful peace-spirit of the Ogillallah; but seldom 
 
SCENES AT THE CAMP 135 
 
 is it that such a gentle visitor presents itself during the 
 initiatory fasts of their young men. The terrible grizzly 
 bear, the divinity of war, usually appears to fire them 
 with martial ardor and thirst for renown. At length the 
 antelope spoke. He told the young dreamer that he was 
 not to follow the path of war; that a life of peace and 
 tranquillity was marked out for him; that thenceforward 
 he was to guide the people by his counsels, and protect 
 them from the evils of their own feuds and dissensions. 
 Others were to gain renown by fighting the enemy; but 
 greatness of a different kind was in store for him. 
 
 The visions beheld during the period of this fast usually 
 determine the whole course of the dreamer's life, for an 
 Indian is bound by iron superstitions. From that time 
 Le Borgne, which was the only name by which we knew 
 him, abandoned all thoughts of war, and devoted him- 
 self to the labors of peace. He told his vision to the peo- 
 ple. They honored his commission and respected him in 
 his novel capacity. 
 
 A far different man was his brother, Mahto-Tatonka, 
 who had transmitted his names, his features, and many 
 of his characteristic qualities to his son. He was the 
 father of Henry Chatillon's squaw, a circumstance which 
 proved of some advantage to us, as securing for us the 
 friendship of a family perhaps the most distinguished 
 and powerful in the whole Ogillallah band. Mahto- 
 Tatonka, in his rude way, was a hero. No chief could 
 vie with him in warlike renown or in power over his peo- 
 ple. He had a fearless spirit and a most impetuous and 
 inflexible resolution. His will was law. He was politic 
 and sagacious, and with true Indian craft he always be- 
 friended the whites, well knowing that he might thus 
 reap great advantages for himself and his adherents. 
 When he had resolved on any course of conduct, he would 
 pay to the warriors the empty compliment of calling 
 them together to deliberate upon it, and when their de- 
 bates were over, he would quietly state his own opinion, 
 which no one ever disputed. The consequences of thwart- 
 ing his imperious will were too formidable to be encoun- 
 tered. Woe to those who incurred his displeasure ! He 
 would strike them or stab them on the spot ; and this act; 
 
136 THE OREGON TRAIL 
 
 which if attempted by any other chief, would instantly 
 have cost him his life, the awe inspired by his name 
 enabled him to repeat again and again with impunity. 
 In a community where, from immemorial time, no man 
 has acknowledged any law but his own will, Mahto- 
 Tatonka, by the force of his dauntless resolution, raised 
 himself to power little short of despotic. His haughty 
 career came at last to an end. He had a host of enemies 
 only waiting for their opportunity of revenge, and our 
 old friend Smoke, in particular, together with all his 
 kinsmen, hated him most cordially. Smoke sat one day 
 in his lodge, in the midst of his own village, when Mahto- 
 Tatonka entered it alone, and approaching the dwelling 
 of his enemy, called on him in a loud voice to come out^ 
 if he were a man, and fight. Smoke would not move. 
 At this, Mahto-Tatonka proclaimed him a coward and 
 an old woman, and striding close to the entrance of the 
 lodge, stabbed the chiefs best horse, which was picketed 
 there. Smoke was daunted, and even this insult failed 
 to call him forth. Mahto-Tatonka moved haughtily 
 away; all made way for him, but his hour of reckoning 
 was near. 
 
 One hot day, five or six years ago, numerous lodges 
 of Smoke's kinsmen were gathered around some of the 
 Fur Company's men, who were trading in various articles 
 w^ith them, whiskey among the rest. Mahto-Tatonka 
 was also there with a few of his people. As he lay in his 
 own lodge, a fray arose between his adherents and the 
 kinsmen of his enemy. The war-whoop was raised^ 
 bullets and arrows began to fly, and the camp was in 
 confusion. The chief sprang up, and rushing in a fury 
 from the lodge, shouted to the combatants on both sides 
 to cease. Instantly — for the attack was preconcerted — 
 came the reports of two or three guns, and the twanging 
 of a dozen bows, and the savage hero, mortally wounded^ 
 pitched forward headlong to the ground. Rouleau was 
 present, and told me the particulars. The tumult be- 
 came general, and was not quelled until several had fallen 
 on both sides. When we were in the country the feud 
 between the two families was still rankling, and not likely 
 soon to cease. 
 
SCENES AT THE CAMP 137 
 
 Thus died Mahto-Tatonka, but he left behind him a 
 goodly army of descendants to perpetuate his renown 
 and avenge his fate. Besides daughters, he had thirty 
 sons, a number which need not stagger the credulity of 
 those who are best acquainted with Indian usages and 
 practices. We saw many of them, all marked by the 
 same dark complexion, and the same peculiar cast of 
 features. Of these, our visitor, young Mahto-Tatonka, 
 was the eldest, and some reported him as likely to succeed 
 to his father's honors. Though he appeared not more 
 than twenty-one years old, he had oftener struck the 
 enemy, and stolen more horses and more squaws than any 
 young man in the village. We of the civilized world are 
 not apt to attach much credit to the latter species of ex- 
 ploits; but horse-stealing is well known as an avenue to 
 distinction on the prairies, and the other kind of depre- 
 dation is esteemed equally meritorious. Not that the act 
 can confer fame from its own intrinsic merits. Any one 
 can steal a squaw, and if he chooses afterward to make 
 an adequate present to her rightful proprietor, the easy 
 husband for the most part rests content, his vengeance 
 falls asleep, and all danger from that quarter is averted. 
 Yet this is esteemed but a pitiful and mean-spirited trans- 
 action. The danger is averted, but the glory of the achieve- 
 ment also is lost. Mahto-Tatonka proceeded after a more 
 gallant and dashing fashion. Out of several dozen squaws 
 whom he had stolen, he could boast that he had never 
 paid for one, but snapping his fingers in the face of the in- 
 jured husband, had defied the extremity of his indigna- 
 tion, and no one yet had dared to lay the finger of vio- 
 lence upon him. He was following close in the footsteps 
 of his father. The j^oung men and the young squaws, each 
 in their way, admired him. The one would alwa3^s follow 
 him to war, and he was esteemed to have an unrivalled 
 charm in the eyes of the other. Perhaps his impunity may 
 excite some wonder. An arrow shot from a ravine, a stab 
 given in the dark, require no great valor, and are espe- 
 cially suited to the Indian genius ; but Mahto-Tatonka had 
 a strong protection. It was not alone his courage and 
 audacious will that enabled him to career so dashingly 
 among his compeers. His enemies did not forget that he 
 
138 THE OREGON TRAIL 
 
 was one of thirty warlike brethren, all growing up to man- 
 hood. Should they wreak their anger upon him, many 
 keen eyes would be ever upon them, many fierce hearts 
 would thirst for their blood. The avenger would dog their 
 footsteps everywhere. To kill Mahto-Tatonka would be 
 no better than an act of suicide. 
 
 Though he found such favor in the eyes of the fair, he 
 was no dandy. As among us, those of highest worth and 
 breeding are most simple in manner and attire, so our 
 aspiring young friend was indifferent to the gaudy trap- 
 pings and ornaments of his companions. He was content 
 to rest his chances of success upon his own warlike merit. 
 He never arrayed himself in gaudy blanket and glittering 
 necklace, but left his statue-like form, limbed like an 
 Apollo of bronze to win its way to favor! His voice 
 was singularly deep and strong. It sounded from his 
 chest like the deep notes of an organ. Yet after all, he 
 was but an Indian. See him as he lies there in the sun 
 before our tent, kicking his heels in the air and cracking 
 jokes with his brother. Does he look like a hero? See 
 him now in the hour of his glory, when at sunset the 
 whole village empties itself to behold him, for to-morrow 
 their favorite young partisan goes out against the enemy. 
 His superb head-dress is adorned with a crest of the war- 
 eagle's feathers, rising in a waving ridge above his brow, 
 and sweeping far behind him. His round white shield 
 hangs at his breast, with feathers- radiating from the 
 centre like a star. His quiver is at his back ; his tall lance 
 in his hand, the iron point flashing against the declining 
 sun, while the long scalp-locks of his enemies flutter from 
 the shaft. Thus, gorgeous as a champion in his panoply, 
 he rides round and round within the great circle of lodges, 
 balancing with a graceful buoyancy to the free move- 
 ments of his war-horse, while with a sedate brow he sings 
 his song to the Great Spirit. Young rival warriors look 
 askance at him; vermilion-cheeked girls gaze in admira- 
 tion; boys whoop and scream in a thrill of delight, and 
 old women j^ell forth his name and proclaim his praises 
 from lodge to lodge. 
 
 Mahto-Tatonka, to come back to him, was the best of 
 all our Indian friends. Hour after hour and day after 
 
SCENES AT THE CAMP 139 
 
 day, when swarms of savages of every age, sex, and degree 
 beset our camp, he would lie in our tent, his lynx-eye 
 ever open to guard our property from pillage. 
 
 The Whirlwind invited us one day to his lodge. The 
 feast was finished and the pipe began to circulate. It 
 was a remarkably large and fine one, and I expressed 
 my admiration of its form and dimensions. 
 
 "If the Meneaska likes the pipe,'' asked the Whirlwind, 
 ^^why does he not keep it?" 
 
 Such a pipe among the Ogillallah is valued at the price 
 of a horse. A princely gift, thinks the reader, and worthy 
 of a chieftain and a warrior. The Whirlwind's generosity 
 rose to no such pitch. He gave me the pipe, confidently 
 expecting that I in return should make him a present of 
 equal or superior value. This is the implied condition of 
 every gift among the Indians as among the Orientals, 
 and should it not be complied with, the present is usually 
 reclaimed by the giver. So I arranged upon a gaudy 
 calico handkerchief an assortment of vermilion, tobacco, 
 knives, and gunpowder, and, summoning the chief to 
 camp, assured him of my friendship, and begged his 
 acceptance of a slight token of it. Ejaculating "how! 
 how!" he folded up the offerings and withdrew to his 
 lodge. 
 
 Several days passed, and we and the Indians remained 
 encamped side by side. They could not decide whether 
 or not to go to the war. Toward evening scores of them 
 would surround our tent, a picturesque group. Late one 
 afternoon a party of them mounted on horseback came 
 suddenly in sight from behind some clumps of bushes 
 that lined the bank of the stream, leading with them a 
 mule, on whose back was a wretched negro, only sus- 
 tained in his seat by the high pommel and cantle of the 
 Indian saddle. His cheeks were withered and shrunken 
 in the hollow of his jaws; his eyes were unnaturally di- 
 lated, and his lips seemed shrivelled and draAvn back 
 from his teeth like those of a corpse. When they brought 
 him up before our tent, and lifted him from the saddle, 
 he could not walk or stand, but he crawled a short dis- 
 tance, and, with a look of utter misery, sat down on the 
 grass. All the children and women came pouring out of 
 
140 THE OREGON TRAIL 
 
 the lodges around us, and with screams and cries made a 
 close circle about him, Avhile he sat supporting himself 
 with his hands, and looking from side to side with a va- 
 cant stare. The wretch was starving to death! For 
 thirty-three days he had wandered alone on the prairie, 
 without weapon of any kind; without shoes, moccasins, 
 or any other clothing than an old jacket and pantaloons; 
 without intelligence and skill to guide his course, or any 
 knowledge of the productions of the prairie. All this 
 time he had subsisted on crickets and lizards, wild onions, 
 and three eggs which he found in the nest of a prairie- 
 dove. He had not seen a human being. Utterly be- 
 wildered in the boundless, hopeless desert that stretched 
 around him, offering to his inexperienced eye no mark 
 by which to direct his course, he had walked on in despair, 
 till he could walk no longer, and then crawled on his knees, 
 until the bone was laid bare. He chose the night for his 
 travelling, lying down by day to sleep in the glaring sun, 
 always dreaming, as he said, of the broth and corn-cake he 
 used to eat under his old master's shed in Missouri. _ Every 
 man in the camp, both Avhite and red, was astonished at 
 his wonderful escape, not only from starvation, but from 
 the grizzly bears which abound in that neighborhood, and 
 the wolves which howled around him every night. 
 
 Reynal recognized him the moment the Indians brought 
 him in. He had run away from his master about a year 
 before and joined the party of M. Richard, who was then 
 leaving the frontier for the mountains. He had lived 
 with Richard ever since, until in the end of May he, with 
 Reynal and several other men, went out in search of some 
 stray horses, when he got separated from the rest in a 
 storm, and had never been heard of up to this time. 
 Knowing his inexperience and helplessness, no one 
 dreamed that he could still be living. The Indians had 
 found him lying exhausted on the ground. 
 
 As he sat there with the Indians gazing silently on 
 him, his haggard face and glazed eye were disgusting to 
 look upon. Delorier made him a bowl of gruel, but he 
 suffered it to remain untasted before him. At length he 
 languidly raised the spoon to his lips; again he did so, 
 and again; and then his appetite seemed suddenly in- 
 
SCENES AT THE CAMP 141 
 
 flamed into madness, for he seized the bowl, swallowed 
 all its contents in a few seconds, and eagerly demanded 
 meat. This we refused, telling him to wait until morning; 
 but he begged so eagerly that we gave him a small piece, 
 which he devoured, tearing it like a dog. He said he 
 must have more. We told him that his life was in danger 
 if he ate so immoderately at first. He assented, and said 
 he knew he was a fool to do so, but he must have meat. 
 This we absolutely refused, to the great indignation of 
 the senseless squaws, who, when we were not watching 
 him, would slyly bring dried meat and po7nmes blanches^ 
 and place them on the ground by his side. Still this was 
 not enough for him. When it grew dark he contrived to 
 creep away between the legs of the horses and crawl over 
 to the Indian village, about a furlong down the stream. 
 Here he fed to his heart's content, and was brought back 
 again in the morning, when Jean Gras, the trapper, put 
 him on horseback and carried him to the fort. He man- 
 aged to survive the effects of his insane greediness, and 
 though slightly deranged when he left this part of th© 
 country, he was otherwise in tolerable health, and ex- 
 pressed his firm conviction that nothing could ever kill 
 him. 
 
 When the sun was yet an hour high, it was a gay scene 
 in the village. The warrior stalked sedately among the 
 lodges, or along the margin of the streams, or walked 
 out to visit the bands of horses that were feeding over 
 the prairie. Half the village population deserted the 
 close and heated lodges and betook themselves to the 
 water; and here you might see boys and girls and young 
 squaws splashing, swimming, and diving beneath the 
 afternoon sun, with merry laughter and screaming. But 
 when the sun was just resting above the broken peaks^ 
 and the purple mountains threw their prolonged shadows 
 for miles over the prairie ; when our grim old tree, lighted 
 by the horizontal rays, assumed an aspect of peaceful 
 repose, such as one loves after scenes of tumult and 
 excitement; and when the whole landscape of swelling 
 plains and scattered groves was softened into a tran- 
 quil beauty, then our encampment presented a striking 
 spectacle. Could Salvator Rosa have transferred it to 
 
142 THE OREGON TRAIL 
 
 his canvas, it would have added new renown to his pencil. 
 Savage figures surrounded our tent, with quivers at their 
 backs, and guns, lances, or tomahawks in their 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 
 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 sym- 
 metry of their forms ; and I do not exaggerate Avhen I say 
 that only on 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 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, when on 
 first seeing the Belvidere in the Vatican, he exclaimed, 
 ''By God, a Mohawk!" 
 
 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 re- 
 vealing the rough trappers and the graceful Indians. One 
 of the 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 witch-like hags flitted around the blaze; and 
 here for hour after hour sat a circle of children and young 
 girls, laughing and talking, their round merry faces glow- 
 ing in the ruddy light. \Ve could hear the monotonous 
 notes of the drum from the Indian village, with the chant 
 of the war-song, deadened in the distance, and the long 
 chorus of quavering yells, where the war-dance was going 
 on in the largest lodge. For several nights, too, we could 
 
SCENES AT THE CAMP 143 
 
 hear wild and mournful cries, rising and dying away like 
 the melancholy voice of a wolf. They came from the sis- 
 ters and female relatives of Mahto-Tatonka, who were gash- 
 ing their limbs with knives and bewailing the death of 
 Henry Chatillon's squaw. The hour would grow late be- 
 fore all retired to rest in the camp. Then the embers of the 
 fires would be glowing dimly, the men would be stretched 
 in their blankets ^ii the ground, and nothing could be heard 
 but the restless motions of the crowded horses. 
 
 I recall these scenes with a mixed feehng of pleasure and 
 pain. iVt this time I was so reduced by illness that I could 
 seldom walk without reehng like a drunken man, and 
 when I rose from my seat upon the ground the landscape 
 suddenly grew dim before my ej^es, the trees and lodges 
 seemed to 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 particu- 
 larly inconvenient. Medical assistance, of course, there 
 was none; neither had I the means of pursuing a system 
 of diet; and sleeping on damp ground, with an occasional 
 drenching from a shower, would hardly be recommended 
 as beneficial. I sometimes suffered the extremity of lan- 
 guor and exhaustion, and though at the time I felt no ap- 
 prehensions of the final result, I have since learned that my 
 situation was a critical one. 
 
 Besides other formidable inconveniences, I owe it in a 
 great measure to the remote effects of that unlucky dis- 
 order that from deficient eyesight I am compelled to em- 
 ploy the pen of another in taking down this narrative from 
 m}^ lips ; and I have learned very effectually that a violent 
 attack of dysentery on the prairie is a thing too serious for 
 a joke. I tried repose and a very sparing diet. For a long 
 time, with exemplary patience, I lounged about the camp, 
 or, at 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 dis- 
 order seemed shaken in its stronghold, and very gradually 
 
144 THE OREGON TRAIL 
 
 I began to resume a less rigid diet. No sooner had I done 
 so than the same detested symptoms revisited me ; my old 
 enemy resumed his pertinacious assaults, yet not with his 
 foraier violence or constancy, and though before I re- 
 gained any fair portion of my ordinary strength weeks had 
 elapsed, and months passed before the disorder left me, 
 yet thanks to old habits of activity, and a merciful Provi- 
 dence, I was able to sustain myself against it. 
 
 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 Hills. There is a spirit of energy and vigor in moun- 
 tains, iind they impart it to all who approach their pres- 
 ence. At that time I did not know how many dark super- 
 stitions and gloomy legends are associated with those 
 mountains in the minds of the Indians, but I felt an eager 
 desire to penetrate their hidden recesses, to explore the 
 awful chasms and precipices, the black torrents, the silent 
 forests, that I fancied were concealed there. 
 
 CHAPTER XII 
 
 ILL LUCK 
 
 "One touch to her hand, and one word in her ear, 
 
 When they reach'd the hall-door, and the charger stood near; 
 
 So light to the croupe the fair lady he swung, 
 
 So light to the saddle before her he sprung! 
 *^She is won! we are gone, over bank, bush, and scaur; 
 
 They'll have fleet steeds that follow,' quoth young Lochinvar." 
 
 Marmion. 
 
 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. 
 If bravery be the most potent charm to win the favor of 
 the fair, then no wooer could be more irresistible than a 
 Kocky 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 
 
ILL LUCK 145 
 
 dispatch. 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 moved toward the wagons, as if he were ap- 
 proaching a band of buffalo. Eluding the vigilance of the 
 guard, who were 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 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 
 to go to the rendezvous at La Bonte'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 
 were to send out a small independent war-party against 
 the enemy. Their final determination left us in some em- 
 barrassment. Should we go to La Bonte's camp, it was 
 not impossible that the other villages should prove as vac- 
 illating and indecisive as the Whirlwind's, and that no as- 
 sembly whatever would take place. Our old companion 
 Reynal 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 w^ith the village which he himself intended to accom- 
 pany. He declared he was certain that no Indians would 
 meet at the 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 false- 
 hood. Neither he nor any white man with us had ever 
 seen the difficult and obscure defiles through which the 
 Indians intended to make their way. I passed them after- 
 ward, and had much ado to force my distressed horse along 
 the narrow ravines and through chasms where daylight 
 could scarcely penetrate. Our cart might as easily have 
 
146 THE OREGON TRAIL 
 
 been conveyed over the summit of Pike's Peak. Antici- 
 pating the difficulties 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 
 of a potent auxiliary, a spoonful of whiskey, svv'allowecl 
 at short intervals, alone enabled me to sit my hardy 
 little mare Pauline through the short journey of_that day. 
 Por half a mile before us and half a mile behind the prairie 
 was covered far and wide with the moving throng of sav- 
 ages. 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, jDassing the burdened travaux, 
 the heavily laden pack-horses, the gaunt old women on 
 foot, the gay young 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 distant prairie, exclaimed 
 suddenly that a horseman was approaching, and in truth 
 we could just discern a small black speck slowly moving 
 over the face of a distant swell, like a fly creeping on a 
 wall. It rapidly grew larger as it approached. 
 
 ''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." 
 
 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 trap- 
 per. 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 Bonte's camp, where, as Jean 
 Gras assured us, ten or twelve villages of Indians would 
 certainly assemble. Bisonette desired that we would 
 cross over and meet him there, and promised that his 
 
ILL LUCK 147 
 
 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 hour resolved to go. 
 
 For the rest of that day's journey our course and that 
 of the Indians was the same. In less than an hour we 
 came to where the high barren prairie terminated, sink- 
 ing down abruptl}" in steep descent; and standing on 
 these heights, we saw below 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 descent, 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 half a dozen of the elder warriors, gravely 
 smoking and looking down w^ith unmoved faces on the 
 wild and striking spectacle. 
 
 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 at half a mile's distance. In the afternoon we 
 were in the village. The day was a glorious one, and the 
 whole camp seemed lively and animated in sympathy. 
 Groups of children and young girls were laughing gayly 
 on the outside of the lodges. The shields, the lances, and 
 the bows were 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. 
 An old woman, with true Indian hospitality, brought a 
 bowd 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 came pealing from the hills. A crowed of horse- 
 men appeared, rushing down their sides, and riding at full 
 speed toward the village, each warrior's long hair flying 
 
148 THE OREGON TRAIL 
 
 behind him in the wind like a ship's streamer. As they 
 approached, the confused throng assumed a regular order, 
 and entering two by two, they circled round the area at 
 full gallop, each 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 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 part in this parade, for they were in mourning 
 for their sister, and were all sitting in their lodges, their 
 bodies bedaubed 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 
 as each 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 
 admiration at those whose honors were proclaimed by 
 the public voice of the village. Thus early is the lesson 
 of 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. 
 
 As the sun rose next morning we looked across the 
 meadow, and could see the lodges levelled and the In- 
 dians 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 Indian family of Moran. We 
 travelled until night. I suffered not a little pain and 
 weakness. We encamped among some trees by the side 
 ©f a little brook, and here during the whole of the next 
 day we lay waiting for Bisonette, but no Bisonette ap- 
 peared. Here also two of our trapper friends left us, 
 and set out for the Rocky Mountains. On the second 
 
ILL LUCK 149 
 
 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 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 Horse-Shoe 
 Creek. We turned gladly toward it. There were lofty 
 and spreading trees, standing widely asunder, and sup- 
 porting a thick canopy of leaves, above a surface of rich, 
 tall grass. The stream ran swiftly, as clear as crystal, 
 through the bosom of thd 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 mj^self on the ground, scarcely able 
 to move. All that afternoon I lay in the shade by the 
 side of the stream, and those bright woods and sparkling 
 waters are associated in my mind with recollections of 
 lassitude and utter prostration. Wlien night came I sat 
 down by the fire, longing, with an intensity of which at 
 this moment I can hardly conceive, for some powerful 
 stimulant. 
 
 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 
 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 found the Indians congregated by thousands. We 
 looked 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 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 encampments and swarming with life, but 
 
150 THE OREGON TRAIL 
 
 a vast unbroken desert, stretching away before us league 
 upon league, without a bush or a tree or anything that 
 had life. We drew rein and g^ve to the winds our senti- 
 ments concerning the whole aboriginal race of America. 
 Our journey was in vain, and much worse than in vain. 
 For myself, I was vexed and disappointed beyond meas- 
 ure; as I well knew that a slight aggravation of my dis- 
 order 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 myself as well as I 
 could against such a contingency, I resolved that I would 
 not under any circumstances attempt to leave the coun- 
 try 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 warlike ceremonies. The scarcity of buffalo in the 
 vicinity of La Bonte'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. 
 
 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 
 solitary old tree, which seemed the. only place fit for an 
 encampment. Half its branches were dead, and the rest 
 were so scantily furnished with leaves that they cast but 
 a meagre and wretched shade, and the old twisted trunk 
 alone furnished sufficient protection from the sun. W^e 
 threw down our saddles in the strip of shadow that it 
 cast, and sat 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. 
 
HUNTING INDIANS 151 
 
 CHAPTER XIII 
 
 HUNTING INDIANS 
 
 " I tread, 
 With fainting steps and slow, 
 Where wilds immeasurably spread 
 
 Seem lengthening as I go." — Goldsmith. 
 
 At last we had reached La Bonte's camp, toward which 
 our eyes had turned so long. Of all weary hours, those 
 that passed between noon and sunset of the clay when we 
 arrived there may bear away the palm of exquisite dis- 
 comfort. I lay under the tree reflecting on what course 
 to 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 Bison- 
 ette emerging from the woods. Shaw and Henry had 
 ridden out on a scouting expedition, and did not return 
 until the sun was setting. There was nothing very cheer- 
 ing 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 around us." Henry's horse was quite disabled by 
 clambering up and down the sides of ravines, and Shaw's 
 was severely fatigued. 
 
 After supper that evening, as we sat around the fire, 
 I proposed to Shaw to wait one day longer, in hopes of 
 Bisonette's arrival, and if he should not come, to send 
 Delorier with the cart and baggage back to Fort Laramie, 
 while we ourselves followed the Whirlwind's village, ancl 
 attempted to overtake it as it passed the mountains. 
 Shaw, not having the same motive for hunting Indians 
 that I had, Avas averse 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 unpleasant, and, as I considered, 
 hazardous. I hoped that Bisonette would appear in the 
 course of the following day, and bring us some informa- 
 tion by which to direct our course, and enable me to 
 accomplish my purpose by means less objectionable. 
 
152 THE OREGON TRAIL 
 
 The rifle of Henry Chatillon was necessary for the sub- 
 sistence of the party in my absence ; so I called Raymond, 
 and ordered him to prepare to set out with me. Ray- 
 mond rolled his eyes vacantly about, but at length, hav- 
 ing succeeded in grappling with the idea, he withdrew to 
 his bed under the cart. He was a heavy-moulded fellow, 
 with a broad face, exactly like an owFs, expressing the 
 most impenetrable stupidit}^ and entire self-confidence. 
 As for his good qualities, he had a sort of stubborn fidelity, 
 an insensibility to danger, and a kind of instinct or sa- 
 gacity, which sometimes led him right, where better heads 
 than his were at a loss. Besides this, he knew very well 
 how to handle 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 leaned against the tree, were too hot for the touch. 
 There was a dead silence through our camp and all around 
 it, unbroken except by the hum of gnats and mosquitoes. 
 The men, resting their foreheads on their arms, were sleep- 
 ing under the cart. The Indians kept close within their 
 lodge, 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 have made a capital shot. A 
 rifle bullet, skilfully 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 w^ould look when he was dead, than in 
 shooting the detestable vulture which he resembled. We 
 dined, and then Shaw saddled his horse. 
 
 "I will ride back," said he, "to Horse-Shoe Creek, and 
 see if Bisonette is- there.'' 
 
 "I would go with you," I answered, "but I must re- 
 serve all the strength I have." 
 
 The afternoon dragged away at last. I occupied my- 
 self in cleaning my rifle and pistols, and making other 
 preparations for the journey. After supper, Henry 
 
HUNTING INDIANS 153 
 
 Chatillon and I lay by the fire, discussing the properties 
 of that admirable weapon, the rifle, in the use of which 
 he could fairly out-rival Leatherstocking himself. 
 
 It was late before I wrapped myself in my blanket and 
 lay down for the night, with my head on my saddle. 
 Shaw had not returned, but this gave us no uneasiness, 
 for we presumed that he had fallen in with Bisonette, and 
 was spending the night with him. For a day or two past 
 I had gained in strength and health, but about midnight 
 an attack of 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 inexplicable sounds, like whisperings and foot- 
 steps, which no one who has spent the night alone amid 
 deserts and forests will be at a loss to understand. As I 
 was falling asleep, a familiar 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 
 elbow. 
 
 " Lost ! " said Shaw. " Where's Delorier? " 
 
 "There," I replied, pointing to a confused mass of 
 blankets and buffalo-robes. 
 
 Shaw touched them with the butt of his gun, and up 
 sprang our faithful Canadian. 
 
 "Come, Delorier; stir up the fire, and get me something 
 to eat." 
 
 "Where's Bisonette?" asked I. 
 
 "The Lord knows; there's nobody at Horse-Shoe Creek." 
 
 Shaw had gone back to the spot where we had encampe'd 
 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. 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 soli- 
 tary work was performed in darkness. His moccasins 
 were worn to tatters and his feet severely lacerated. He 
 sat down to eat, however, with the usual equanimity of 
 
154 THE OREGON TRAIL 
 
 his temper not at all 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 next morning by 
 Henry Chatillon. 
 
 . 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 men, and in a moment a fire was blazing brightly 
 in the dim morning light, and breakfast was getting 
 ready. We 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." 
 
 My little mare Pauline was soon standing by the fire. 
 She was a fleet, hardy, and gentle animal, christened 
 after Paul Dorion, from whom I had procured her in 
 exchange for Pontiac. She 'did not look as if equipped 
 for a morning pleasure ride. In front of the black, high- 
 bowed mountain-saddle, holsters, with heavy pistols, 
 were fastened. A pair of saddle-bags, a blanket tightly 
 rolled, a small parcel of Indian presents tied up in a 
 buffalo-skin, a leather bag of flour, and a smaller one of 
 tea were all secured behind, and a long trail-rope was 
 wound round her neck. Raymond had a strong black 
 mule, equipped in a similar manner. We crammed our 
 powder-horns to the throat, and mounted. 
 
 "I will meet you at Fort Laramie on the first of Au- 
 gust," said I to Shaw. 
 
 . ''That is," replied he, "if we don't meet before that. 
 I think I shall follow after you in a day or two." 
 
 This, in fact, he attempted, and he would have suc- 
 ceeded if he had not encountered obstacles against which 
 his resolute spirit was of no avail. Two days after I left 
 him he sent Delorier to the fort with the cart and baggage, 
 and set out for the mountains with Henry Chatillon; but 
 a tremendous thunder-storm had deluged the prairie, 
 and nearly obliterated not only our trail but that of the 
 Indians themselves. They followed along the base of the 
 mountains, at a loss in which direction to go. They en- 
 camped there, and in the morning Shaw found himself 
 
HUNTING INDIANS 155 
 
 poisoned by ivy in such a manner that it was impossi- 
 ble for him to travel. So they turned back reluctantly 
 toward Fort Laramie. Shaw's limbs were swollen to 
 double their usual size, and he rode in great pain. They 
 encamped again within twenty miles of the fort, and 
 reached it early on the following morning. Shaw lay 
 seriously ill for a week, and remained at the fort till I 
 rejoined him some time after. 
 
 To return to my own story. We shook hands with our 
 friends, rode out upon the prairie, and clambering the 
 sandy hollows that were channelled in the side of the hills, 
 gained the high plains above. If a curse had been pro- 
 nounced upon the land it could not have worn an aspect 
 of more dreary and forlorn barrenness. There were 
 abrupt broken hills, deep hollows, and wide plains; but 
 all alike glared with an insupportable whiteness under 
 the burning sun. The country, as if parched by the heat, 
 had cracked into innumerable fissures and ravines, that 
 not a little impeded our progress. Their steep sides were 
 white and raw, and along the bottom we several times 
 discovered the broad tracks of the terrific grizzly bear, 
 nowhere more abundant than in this region. The ridges 
 of the hills were hard as rock, and strewn with pebbles 
 of flint and coarse red jasper; looking from them, there 
 was nothing to relieve the desert uniformity of the pros- 
 pect, save here and there a pine tree clinging at the edge 
 of a ravine, and stretching over its rough, shaggy^ arms. 
 Under the scorching heat, these melancholy trees diffused 
 their peculiar resinous odor through the sultry air. There 
 was something in it, as I approached them, that recalled 
 old associations: the pine-clad mountains of New Eng- 
 land, traversed in days of health and buoyancy, rose 
 like a reality before my fancy. In passing that arid waste 
 I was goaded with a morbid thirst produced by my disor- 
 der, and I thought with a longing desire on the crystal 
 treasure poured in such wasteful profusion from our thou- 
 sand hills. Shutting my eyes, I more than half-believed 
 that I heard the deep plunging and gurgling of waters in 
 the bowels of the shaded rocks. I could see their dark 
 icy glittering far down amid the crevices, and the cold 
 drops trickling from the long green mosses. 
 
156 THE OREGON TRAIL 
 
 When noon came, we found a little stream with a few 
 trees and bushes; and here we rested for an hour. Then 
 we travelled on, guided by the sun, until, just before sun- 
 set, we reached another stream, called Bitter Cotton- 
 wood Creek. A thick growth of bushes and old storm- 
 beaten trees grew at intervals along its bank. Near the 
 foot of one of the trees we flung down our saddles, and 
 hobbling our horses, turned them loose to feed. The 
 little stream was clear and swift, and ran musically over 
 its white sands. Small water-birds were splashing in the 
 shallows, and filling the air with their cries and flutterings. 
 The sun was just sinking among gold and crimson clouds 
 behind Mount Laramie. I well remember how I lay 
 upon a log by the margin of the water and watched the 
 restless motions of the little fish in a deep still nook be- 
 low. Strange to say, I seemed to have gained strength 
 since the morning, and almost felt a sense of returning 
 health. 
 
 We built our fire. Night came, and the wolves began 
 to howl. One deep voice commenced, and it was an- 
 swered in awful responses from the hills, the plains, and 
 the woods along the stream above and below us. Such 
 sounds need not and do not disturb one's sleep upon the 
 prairie. We picketed the mare and the mule close at 
 our feet, and did not awake until daylight. Then we 
 turned them loose, still hobl^led, to feed for an hour before 
 starting. We were getting ready our morning's meal, 
 when Raymond saw an antelope at half a mile's distance, 
 and said he would go and shoot it. 
 
 "Your business," said I, "is to look after the animals. 
 I am too weak to do much if anything happens to them, 
 and you must keep within sight of the camp." 
 
 Raymond promised, and set out with his rifle in his 
 hand. The animals had passed across the stream, and 
 were feeding among the long grass on the other side, 
 much tormented by the attacks of the numerous large 
 green-heacled flies. As I watched them, I saw them go 
 down into a hollow, and as several minutes elapsed with- 
 out their reappearing, I waded through the stream to 
 look after them. To my vexation and alarm I discovered 
 them at a great distance, galloping away at full speed. 
 
HUNTING INDIANS 157 
 
 Pauline in advance, with her hobbles broken, and the 
 mule, still fettered, following with awkward leaps. I 
 fired my rifle and shouted to recall Raymond. In a 
 moment he came running through the stream, with a 
 red handkerchief bound round his head. I pointed to 
 the fugitives, and ordered him to pursue them. Mutter- 
 ing a ^'Sacre!" between his teeth, he set out at full speed,, 
 still swinging his rifle in his hand. I walked up to the top 
 of a hill, and looking away over the prairie, could just 
 distinguish the runaways, still at full gallop. Returning 
 to the fire, I sat clown at the foot of a tree. Wearily and 
 anxiously hour after hour passed away. The old loose 
 bark dangling from the trunk behind me flapped to and 
 fro in the wind, and the mosquitoes kept up their inces- 
 sant drowsy humming; but other than this, there was no 
 sight nor sound of life throughout the burning landscape. 
 The sun rose higher and higher, until the shadows fell 
 almost perpendicularly, and I knew that it must be noon. 
 It seemed scarcely possible that the animals could be 
 recovered. If they were not, my situation was one of 
 serious difficulty. Shaw, when I left him, had decided 
 to move that morning, but whither he had not deter- 
 mined. To look for him would be a vain attempt. Fort 
 Laramie was forty miles distant and I could not walk a 
 mile without great effort. Not then having learned the 
 sound philosophy of yielding to disproportionate obstacles 
 I resolved to continue in any event the pursuit of the 
 Indians. Only one plan occurred to me: this was to send 
 Raymond to the fort with an order for more horses, while 
 I remained on the spot, awaiting his return, which might 
 take place within three days. But the adoption of this 
 resolution did not wholly allay my anxiety, for it involved 
 both uncertainty and danger. To remain stationary 
 and alone for three days, in a country full of dangerous 
 Indians, was not the most flattering of prospects; and 
 protracted as my Indian hunt must be by such delay, it 
 was not easy to foretell its ultimate result. Revolving 
 these matters, I grew hungry; and as our stock of provi- 
 sions, except four or five pounds of flour, was by this 
 time exhausted, I left the camp to see what game I could 
 find. Nothing could be seen except four or five large 
 
158 THE OREGON TRAIL 
 
 curlew, which with their loud screaming, were wheeling 
 over my head, and now and then alighting upon the 
 prairie. I shot two of them, and was about returning, 
 when a starthng sight caught my eye. A small, dark 
 object, like a human head, suddenly appeared, and van- 
 ished among the thick bushes along the stream below. 
 In that country every stranger is a suspected enemy. 
 Instinctively I threw forward the muzzle of my rifle. 
 In a moment the bushes were violently shaken, two heads, 
 but not human heads, protruded, and to my great joy I 
 recognized the downcast, disconsolate countenance of 
 the black mule and the yellow visage of Pauline. Ray- 
 mond came upon the mule, pale and haggard, complaining 
 of a fiery pain in his chest. I took charge of the animals 
 while he kneeled down by the side of the stream to drink. 
 He had kept the runawaj^s in sight as far as the Side 
 Fork of Laramie Creek, a distance of more than ten miles; 
 and here with great difficulty he had succeeded in catch- 
 ing them. I saw that he was unarmed, and asked him 
 what he had done with his rifle. It had encumbered him 
 in his pursuit, and he had dropped it on the prairie, think- 
 ing that he could find it on his return; but in this he had 
 failed. The loss might prove a very formidable one. I 
 was too much rejoiced, however, at the recovery of the 
 animals to think much about it; and having made some 
 tea for Raymond in a tin vessel which we had brought 
 with us, I told him that I would give him two hours for 
 resting before we set out again. He had eaten nothing 
 that day; but having no appetite, he lay down immediately 
 to sleep. I picketed the animals among the richest grass 
 that I could find, and made fires of green wood to protect 
 them from the flies; then sitting down again by the tree, 
 I watched the slow movements of the sun, begrudging 
 every moment that passed. 
 
 The time I had mentioned expired, and I awoke Ray- 
 mond. We saddled and set out again, but first we went 
 in search of the lost rifle, and in the course of an hour 
 Raymond was fortunate enough to find it. Then we 
 turned westward, and moved over the hills and hollows 
 at a slow pace toward the Black Hifls. The heat no 
 longer tormented us, for a cloud was before the sun. Yet 
 
HUNTING INDIANS 15^ 
 
 that day shall never be marked with white in my calen- 
 dar. The air began to grow fresh and cool, the distant 
 mountains frowned more gloomily, there was a low 
 muttering of thunder, and dense black masses of cloud 
 rose heavily behind the broken peaks. At first they 
 were gayty fringed with silver by the afternoon sun; but 
 soon the thick blackness overspread the whole sky, and 
 the desert around us was wrapped in deep gloom. I 
 scarcely heeded it at the time, but now I cannot but feel 
 that there was an awful sublimity in the hoarse murmur- 
 ing of the thunder, in the sombre shadows that involved 
 the mountains and the plain. The storm broke. It 
 came upon us with a zigzag blinding flash, with a terrific 
 crash of thunder, and with a hurricane that howled over 
 the prairie, dashing floods of water against us, Raymond 
 looked around, and cursed the merciless elements. There 
 seemed no shelter near, but we discerned at length a deep 
 ravine gashed in the level prairie, and saw half-way down 
 its side an old pine tree, Avhose rough horizontal boughs 
 formed a sort of pent-house against the tempest. We 
 found a practicable passage, and hastily descending, 
 fastened our animals to some large loose stones at the 
 bottom; then climbing up, we drew our blankets over 
 our heads, and seated ourselves close beneath the old 
 tree. Perhaps I was no competent judge of time, but it 
 seemed to me that we were sitting there a full hour, while 
 around us poured a deluge of rain, through which the 
 rocks on the opposite side of the gulf were barely visible. 
 The first burst of the tempest soon subsided, but the rain 
 poured steadily. At length Raymond grew impatient, 
 and scrambling out of the ravine, he gained the level 
 prairie above. 
 
 "What does the weather look like?" asked I, from my 
 seat under the tree. 
 
 "It looks bad," he answered; "dark all around," and 
 again he descended and sat down by my side. Some ten 
 minutes elapsed. 
 
 "Go up again," said I, "and take another look"; and 
 he clamberecl up the precipice. " Well, how is it? " 
 
 "Just the same, only I see one little bright spot over 
 the top of the mountain." 
 
160 THE OREGON TRAIL 
 
 The rain by this time had begun to abate; and going 
 down to the bottom of the ravine, we loosened the ani- 
 mals, who were standing up to their knees in water. 
 Leading them up the rocky throat of the ravine, we 
 reached the plain above. "Am I," I thought to myself, 
 ^Hhe same man who, a few months since was seated, a 
 quiet student of belles-lettres, in a cushioned arm-chair 
 by a sea-coal fire?" 
 
 All around us was obscurity; but the bright spot above 
 the mountain-tops grew wider and ruddier, until at 
 length the clouds drew apart, and a flood of sunbeams 
 poured down from heaven, streaming along the preci- 
 pices, and involving them in a thin blue haze, as soft and 
 lovely as that which wraps the Apennines on an evening 
 in spring. Rapidly the clouds were broken and scattered, 
 hke routed legions of evil spirits. The plain lay basking 
 in sunbeams around us; a rainbow arched the desert from 
 north to south, and far in front a line of woods seemed 
 inviting us to refreshment and repose. When w^e reached 
 them they were glistening with prismatic devv^-drops, and 
 enlivened by the songs and flutterings of a hundred birds. 
 Strange winged insects, benumbed by the rain, w^ere 
 clinging to the leaves and the bark of the trees. 
 
 Raymond kindled a fire with great difficulty. The 
 animals turned eagerly to feed on the soft rich grass, 
 w^hile I, wrapping myself in my blanket, lay down and 
 gazed on the evening landscape. The mountains, whose 
 stern features had lowered upon us with so gloomy and 
 awful a frown, now seemed lighted up w^ith a serene, 
 benignant smile, and the green waving undulations of 
 the plain were gladdened with the rich sunshine. Wet, 
 ill, and wearied as I was, my spirit grew lighter at the 
 view, and I drew from it an augury of good for my future 
 prospects. 
 
 When morning came Raymond awoke coughing vio- 
 lently, though I had apparently received no injury. We 
 mounted, crossed the little stream, pushed through the 
 trees, and began our journey over the plain beyond. And 
 now, as we rode slowly along, we looked anxiously on 
 every' hand for traces of the Indians, not doubting that 
 the village had passed somewhere in that vicinity; but 
 
HUNTING INDIANS 161 
 
 the scanty shrivelled grass was not more than three or 
 four inches high, and the ground was of such unyielding 
 hardness that a host might have marched over it and 
 left scarcely a trace of its passage. Up hill and down hill, 
 and clambering through ravines, we continued our jour- 
 ne}'. As we were skirting the foot of a hill I saw Ray- 
 mond, who was some rods in advance, suddenly jerking 
 the reins of his mule. Sliding from his seat, and running 
 in a crouching posture up a hollow, he disappeared ; and 
 then in an instant I heard the sharp quick crack of his 
 rifle. A wounded antelope came running on three legs over 
 the hill. I lashed Pauhne and made after him. My fleet 
 little mare soon brought me by his side, and after leaping 
 and bounding for a few moments in vain, he stood still, as 
 if despairing of escape. His ghstening ej^es turned up 
 toward ni}" face with so piteous a look that it was with 
 feelings of infinite compunction that I shot him through 
 the head with a pistol. Raymond skinned and cut him 
 up, and we hung the fore-quarters to our saddles, much 
 rejoiced that our exhausted stock of provisions was re- 
 newed in such good time. 
 
 Gaining the top of a hill, vv^e could see along the cloudy 
 verge of the prairie before us lines of trees and shadowy 
 groves, that marked the course of Laramie Creek. Some 
 time before noon we reached its banks, and began anx- 
 iously to search them for footprints of the Indians. We 
 followed the stream for several miles, now on the shore 
 and now wading in the water, scrutinizing every sand- 
 bar and every muddy bank. So long was the search 
 that we began to fear that we had left the trail undis- 
 covered behind us. At length I heard Raymond shout- 
 ing, and saw him jump from his mule to examine some 
 object under the shelving bank. I rode up to his side. 
 It was the clear and palpable impression of an Indian 
 moccasin. Encouraged by this, we continued our search, 
 and at last some appearances on a soft surface of earth 
 not far from the shore attracted my eye; and going to 
 examine them, I found half a dozen tracks, some made by 
 men and some by children. Just then Raymond observed 
 across the stream the mouth of a small branch, entering 
 it from the south. He forded the water, rode in at the 
 
162 THE OREGON TRAIL 
 
 opening, and in a moment I heard him shouting again; 
 so I passed over and joined him. The httle branch had a 
 broad sandy bed, along which the water trickled in a 
 scanty stream; and on either bank the bushes were so 
 close that the view was completely intercepted. I found 
 Raymond stooping over the footprints of three or four 
 horses. Proceeding, we found those of a man, then those 
 of a child, then those of more horses; and at last the 
 bushes on each bank were beaten down and broken, and 
 the sand ploughed up with a multitude of footsteps, and 
 scored across with the furrows made by the lodge-poles 
 that had been dragged through. It was now certain that 
 we had found the trail. I pushed through the bushes, 
 and at a little distance on the prairie beyond found the 
 ashes of an hundred and fifty lodge-fires, w^ith bones and 
 pieces of buffalo-robes scattered around them, and in 
 some instances the pickets to which horses had been 
 secured still standing in the ground. Elated by our suc- 
 cess, we selected a convenient tree, and turning the ani- 
 mals loose, prepared to make a meal from the fat haunch 
 of our victim. 
 
 Hardship and exposure had thriven with me wonder- 
 fully. I had gained both health- and strength since leav- 
 ing La Bonte's camp. Raymond and I made a hearty 
 meal together, in high spirits; for we rashly presumed 
 that having found one end of the trail we should have 
 little difficulty in reaching the other. But when the 
 animals were led in, we found that our old ill luck had 
 not ceased to follow us close. As I was saddling Pauline, 
 I saw that her eye was as dull as lead, and the hue of her 
 yellow coat visibly darkened. I placed my foot in the 
 stirrup to mount, when instantly she staggered and fell 
 flat on her side. Gaining her feet with an effort, she 
 stood by the fire with a drooping head. Whether she 
 had been bitten by a snake, or poisoned by some noxious 
 plant, or attacked by a sudden disorder, it was hard to 
 say; but at all events, her sickness was sufficiently ill- 
 timed and unfortunate. I succeeded in a second attempt 
 to mount her, and with a slow pace we moved forward on 
 the trail of the Indians. It led us up a hill and over a 
 dreary plain; and here, to our great mortification, the 
 
HUNTING INDIANS ' 163 
 
 traces almost disappeared, for the ground was hard as 
 adamant; and if its flinty surface had ever retained the 
 dint of a hoof, the marks had been washed away by the 
 dehige of yesterday. An Indian village, in its disorderly 
 march, is scattered over the prairie, often to the width 
 of full half a mile; so that its trail is nowhere clearty 
 marked, and the task of following it is made doubly weari- 
 some and difficult. By good fortune, plenty of large ant- 
 hills, a yard or more in diameter, were scattered over the 
 plain, and these were frequently broken by the footprints 
 of men and horses, and marked by traces of the lodge- 
 poles. The succulent leaves of the prickty-pear, also, 
 bruised from the same causes, helped a little to guide us; 
 so, inch by inch, we moved along. Often we lost the trail 
 altogether, and then would recover it again; but late in 
 the afternoon we found ourselves totally at fault. We 
 stood alone, without a clue to guide us. The broken 
 plain expanded for league after league around us, and in 
 front the long dark ridge of mountains was stretching 
 from north to south. Mount Laramie, a little on our 
 right, towered high above the rest, and from a dark valley 
 just beyond one of its lower declivities, we discerned vol- 
 umes of white smoke, slowly rolling up into the clear air. 
 
 "I think/' said Raymond, "some Indians must be 
 there. Perhaps we had better go.'' But this plan was 
 not rashly to be adopted, and we determined still to 
 continue our search after the lost trail. Our good stars 
 prompted us to this decision, for we afterward had reason 
 to believe, from information given us by the Indians, 
 that the smoke was raised as a decoy by a Crow war- 
 party. 
 
 Evening was coming on, and there was no wood or 
 water nearer than the foot of the mountains. So thither 
 we turned, directing our course toward the point where 
 Laramie Creek issues forth upon the prairie. When we 
 reached it, the bare tops of the mountains were still 
 brightened with sunshine. The httle. river was breaking, 
 with a vehement and angry current, from its dark prison. 
 There was something in the near vicinity of the moun- 
 tains, in the loud surging of the rapids, wonderfully 
 cheering and exhilarating; for although once as famihar 
 
164 ■ THE OREGON TRAIL 
 
 as home itself, they had been for months strangers to 
 my experience. There was a rich grass-plot by the river's 
 bank, surrounded by low ridges, which would effectually 
 .screen ourselves and our fire from the sight of wandering 
 Indians. Here, among the grass, I observed numerous 
 circles of large stones, which, as Raymond said, were 
 traces of a Dahcotah winter encampment. We lay 
 down, and did not awake till the sun was up. A large 
 rock projected from the shore, and behind it the deep 
 water was slowly eddying round and round. The temp- 
 tation was irresistible. I threw off my clothes, leaped in, 
 suffered myself to be borne once round with the current, 
 and then, seizing the strong root of a water-plant, drew 
 myself to the shore. The effect was so invigorating and 
 refreshing that I mistook it for returning health. ^' Paul- 
 ine,'' thought I, as I led the little mare up to be saddled, 
 ''only thrive as I do, and you and I will have sport yet 
 among the buffalo beyond these mountains." But 
 scarcely were we mounted and on our way, before the 
 momentary glow passed. Again I hung as usual in my 
 seat, scarcely able to hold myself erect. 
 
 "Look yonder," said Raymond; "you see that big 
 hollow there; the Indians must have gone that way, if 
 they went anywhere about here." 
 
 We reached the gap, which was like a deep notch cut 
 into the mountain-ridge, and here we soon discerned an 
 ant-hill furrowed with the mark of a lodge-pole. This 
 was quite enough; there could be no doubt now. As we 
 rode on, the opening growing narrower, the Indians had 
 been compelled to march in closer order, and the traces 
 became numerous and distinct. The gap terminated in 
 a rocky gateway, leading into a rough passage upv/ard, 
 between two precipitous mountains. Here grass and 
 weeds were bruised to fragments by the throng that had 
 passed through. We moved slowly over the rocks, up 
 the passage; and in this toilsome manner we advanced 
 for an hour or two, bare precipices, hundreds of feet 
 high, shooting up on either hand. Raymond, with his 
 hardy mule, was a few rods before me, when we came 
 to the foot of an ascent steeper than the rest, and which 
 I trusted might prove the highest point of the defile. 
 
HUNTING INDIAiXS 165 
 
 Pauline strained upward for a few yards, moaning and 
 stumbling, and then came to a dead stop, unable to pro- 
 ceed farther. I dismounted, and attempted to lead^her; 
 but my own exhausted strength soon gave out; so I 
 loosened the trail-rope from her neck, and tying it round 
 my arm, crawled up on my hands and knees. I gained 
 the top, totally exhausted, the sweat-drops trickling from 
 my forehead. Pauline stood like a statue by my side, her 
 shadow falling upon the scorching rock; and in this shade, 
 for there was no other, I lay for some time, scarcely able 
 to move a limb. All around the black crags, sharp as 
 needles at the top, stood glowing in the sun, without a 
 tree or a bush or a blade of grass to cover their precipitous 
 sides. The whole scene seemed parched with a pitiless, 
 insufferable heat. 
 
 After awhile I could mount again, and we moved on, 
 descending the rocky defile on its western side. Think- 
 ing of that morning's journey, it has sometimes seemed to 
 me that there was something ridiculous in my position: 
 a man, armed to the teeth, but wholly unable to fight, 
 and equally so to run away, traversing a dangerous 
 wilderness, on a sick horse. But these thoughts Avere 
 retrospective, for at the time I was in too grave a mood 
 to entertain a very lively sense of the ludicrous. 
 
 Raymond's saddle-girth slipped; and while I proceeded 
 he was stopping behind to repair the mischief. I came 
 to the top 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 boyhood; that of the insect called 
 the "locust" by New England school-boys, 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 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 
 
166 THE OREGON TRAIL 
 
 cup at the spring, Pauline was eagerly plunging her head 
 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 foot, with 
 its frightful array of claws. Among these mountains 
 was his home. 
 
 Soon after leaving the spring we found a little grassy 
 plain, encircled by the mountains, and marked, to our 
 great joy, w4th all the traces of an Indian camp. Ray- 
 mond's practised eye detected certain signs, by which he 
 recognized the spot where Reynal's lodge had been pitched 
 and his horses pickete'd. I approached, and stood looking 
 at the place. Reynal and I had, I believe, hardly a feel- 
 ing 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 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 moun- 
 tains. There was a plain before us, totally barren and 
 thickly peopled in many parts with the little prairie-dogs, 
 who sat at the mouths of their burrows and yelped at us 
 as we passed. The plain, as w^e 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 shrub- 
 bery that clothed the steeps for a thousand feet shot up 
 black crags, all leaning one Avay, 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. 
 
 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 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 gay and 
 
HUNTING INDIANS 167 
 
 sunny woods, broken into knolls and hollows, enlivened 
 by birds and interspersed with flowers. Among the rest 
 I recognized the mellow whistle of the robin, an old fa- 
 miliar friend, whom I had scarce expected to meet in such 
 a place. Bumble-bees too were buzzing heavily about 
 the flowers; and of these a species of larkspur caught my 
 eye, more appropriate, it should seem, to cultivated 
 gardens than to a remote wilderness. Instantly it re- 
 called 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 forts, of a square form, rudely built of sticks 
 and logs. They were somewhat ruinous, having probably 
 been constructed the year before. Each might have con- 
 tained about twenty men. Perhaps in this glooni}^ spot 
 some party had been beset by their enemies, and those 
 scowling rocks and blasted trees might not long since 
 have looked down on a conflict unchronicled and un- 
 known. 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 
 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 
 refreshment. When we had finished our meal, Raymond 
 struck fire, and lighting his pipe, sat down at the foot of 
 a tree to smoke. For some time I observed him puffing, 
 away with a face of unusual solemnity. Then, slowly^ 
 taking the pipe 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 becoming very danger- 
 ous, that we were entering the range of the Snakes, 
 Arapahoes, and Gros-ventre Blackfeet, and that if any 
 of their wandering 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 mount- 
 ing them we proceeded again. I confess that, as we 
 
168 THE OREGON TRAIL 
 
 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. 
 
 Closer and closer the rocks gathered around us, grow- 
 ing taller and steeper, and pressing more and more upon 
 our path. We entered at length a defile which I never 
 have seen rivalled. The mountain was cracked from top 
 to bottom, and we were creeping along the bottom of the 
 fissure, in dampness and gloom, with the clink of hoofs 
 on the loose shingly rocks, and the hoarse mxurmuring 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 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; bushes, 
 trees, and flowers would spring by the side of the brook; 
 the cliffs would \>q feathered with shrubbery that clung 
 in every crevice, and fringed v\^ith trees that grew along 
 their sunny edges. Then we would be moving again in 
 the darkness. The passage seemed about four miles 
 long, 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 again the Indians had encamped, 
 as well they might, after passing, with their women, chil- 
 dren, and horses, through the gulf behind us. In one cla}^ 
 wx had made a journey which had cost them three to 
 accomplish. 
 
 The only outlet to this amphitheatre lay over a hill 
 some 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 eveiysvhere 
 obstructed. Far on our left one tall hill swelled up 
 
HUNTING INDIANS 169 
 
 against tne sky, on the 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 T\'ere 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 sinking, and 
 soon was within half an hour of the horizon. We ascended 
 a hill and looked around us for a spot for our encamp- 
 ment. The prairie was like a turbulent ocean, suddenly 
 congealed when its waves were at the highest, and it lay 
 half in light and half in shadow, as the rich sunshine, 
 3'ellow as gold, was pouring over it. The rough bushes 
 of the wild sage were growing everywhere, its dull pale 
 green overspreading 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 
 was ghstening 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 ex- 
 hausted 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 thought- 
 lessly raised my rifle to shoot him, but Raymond called 
 out to me not to fire for fear the report should reach the 
 ears of the Indians. That night for the first time we 
 considered that the danger to which we were exposed was 
 of a somewhat serious character; 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 visit. Had any strag- 
 gling party of these faithful friends caught sight of us 
 
170 THE OREGON TRAIL 
 
 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 loci 
 is at war with all nervous apprehensions; 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 two sticks inclining over the bed of coals, 
 one end thrust into the ground while the dough was 
 twisted in a spiral form around 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, indeed, Frascati's or 
 the Trois Freres Provengaux, 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. 
 By a singular revulsion, Tom himself, whom I well re- 
 member to have looked upon as the impersonation of all 
 that is wild and backwoodsman-like, 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 association, assumed 
 another form. Half-dreaming, I saw myself surrounded 
 with the mountains of New England, alive with water- 
 falls, their black crags cinctured 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 
 saddles, lay insensible as logs. Pauline's yellow head 
 was stretched over me when I aw^oke. I got up and 
 examined her. Her feet, indeed, were bruised and swollen 
 by the accidents of yesterday, but her eye was brighter, 
 her motions livelier, and her mysterious malady had 
 visibly abated. We moved on, hoping within an hour to 
 come in sight of the Indian village; but again disappoint- 
 ment awaited us. The trail disappeared, melting away 
 upon a hard and stony plain. Raymond and I separat- 
 ing, rode from side to side, scrutinizing every yard of 
 ground, until at length I discerned traces of the lodge-poles, 
 
HUNTING INDIANS 171 
 
 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. 
 
 We rode out to it, and found it to be the huge carcass 
 of a bull killed by the hunters as they had passed. Tan- 
 gled hair and scraps of hide were scattered all around, 
 for the wolves had been making merry over it, and had 
 hollow^ed out the entire carcass. It was covered with 
 myriads of large black crickets, and from its appearance 
 must certainly 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 go so far for fear of their enemies, the 
 Snakes. 
 
 Soon after this we lost the trail again, and descended 
 a neighboring ridge, totally at a loss. Before us lay a 
 plain perfectly flat, spreading on the right and left, with- 
 out apparent limit, and bounded in front by a long 
 broken line of hills, ten or twelve miles distant. All was 
 open and exposed to view, yet not a buffalo nor an Indian 
 was visible. 
 
 " Do you see that? " said Raymond ; " now we had better 
 turn around." 
 
 But as Raymond's bourgeois thought othenvise, w^e 
 descended 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 
 keep forw^ard. 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 " sur- 
 round"; yet no living game presented itself. At length, 
 however, an antelope sprang up and gazed at us. We 
 fired together, and by a singular fatality we both missed, 
 although the animal stood, a fair mark, within eighty 
 yards. This ill 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 
 
172 THE OREGON TRAIL 
 
 lakes, or rather extensive pools of water, glistening in the 
 distance. As we approached them, wolves and antelope 
 bounded away 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, Ray- 
 mond tried his hand at the birds, with the same ill suc- 
 cess. The water also disappointed us. Its muddy margin 
 was so beaten up by the crowd of buffalo that our timor- 
 ous animals were afraid to approach. So we turned 
 awa}^ 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, 
 offering no clue 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 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 
 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 Meclicine-Bow, the vanguard of the 
 Rocky Mountains; then little by little the plain came 
 into view, a vast green uniformity, forlorn and tenantless, 
 though 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 hih intercepted a part 
 of the view. I rode in advance, when suddenly I could 
 distinguish a few dark spots on the prairie along the bank 
 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 of the plain disclosed itself, and in rapid succession 
 more and more horses appeared, scattered along the 
 river-bank, or feeding in bands over the prairie. Then, 
 
THE OGILLALLAH VILLAGE 173 
 
 suddenly standing in a circle by the stream, swarming 
 with their savage inhabitants, we saw rising before us 
 the tall lodges of the Ogillallah. Never did the heart of 
 wanderer more gladden at the sight of home than did 
 mine at the sight of those wild habitations ! 
 
 CHAPTER XIV 
 
 THE OGILLALLAH VILLAGE 
 
 " They waste us — ay — like April snow, 
 In the warm noon, we shrink away; 
 And fast they follow, as we go 
 
 Towards the setting day." — Bryant. 
 
 Such a narrative as this is hardly the place for portray- 
 ing the mental features of the Indians. The same pic- 
 ture, 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 simi- 
 larity in 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 extraor- 
 dinary opportunities of observing them, and I flatter my- 
 self 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 
 contact 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 rehgion, 
 their superstitions, and their prejudices were the same 
 that had been handed down to them from immemorial 
 time. They fought with the same weapons that their fa- 
 thers 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 
 will dwindle away, and the large wandering communities 
 
174 THE OREGON TRAIL 
 
 who depend on them for support must be broken and 
 scattered. The Indians will soon be corrupted by the 
 example of the whites, abased by whiskey, and overawed 
 by military posts; so that within a few years the traveller 
 may pass in tolerable security through their country on 
 the Pacific Railroad. Its danger and its charm will have 
 disappeared together. 
 
 As soon as Raymond and I discovered the village 
 from 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. Several men came forward to meet us. I 
 could distinguish 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 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 as far as you could see. 
 There 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 hving? " 
 
 In fact, I could see, even at that distance, that long 
 cords were stretched from lodge to lodge, over which 
 the meat, cut by the squaws into thin sheets, was hang- 
 ing 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 behind with all 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 the course most agreeable to their 
 inchnations. 
 
 "What chiefs are there in the village now?" said I. 
 
 "Well," said Reynal, "there's .old Red-Water, and the 
 
THE OGILLALLAH VILLAGE 175 
 
 Eagle-Feather, and the Big-Crow, and the Mad Wolf^ 
 and the Panther, and the White-Shield, and — what's 
 his name? — the half-breed Shienne." 
 
 By this time we were close to the village, and I ob- 
 served 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 made some remark about their wretched 
 appearance. But I was touching upon delicate ground. 
 
 "My squaw's relations live in those lodges," said Rey- 
 nal, very warmly, "and there isn't a better set in the 
 whole village." 
 
 "Are there any chiefs among them?" asked I, 
 
 "Chiefs?" saidReynal; "yes, plenty!" 
 
 " What are their names? " I inquired. 
 
 "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 ! " 
 
 Just then we passed between two of the lodges, and 
 entered the great area of the village. Superb, naked fig- 
 ures 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 
 away with the Whirhvind. 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 
 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." 
 
 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 
 see the chief in the dim light, seated at one side, on a 
 pile of buffalo-robes. He greeted me with a guttural 
 
176 THE OREGON TRAIL 
 
 ''^ How, cola ! " I requested Reynal to tell him that Ray- 
 mond and I were come to hve with him. The Big Crow 
 .gave another low exclamation. If the reader thinks that 
 we were intruding somewhat cavalierly, I beg him to ob- 
 serve that every Indian in the village would have deemed 
 himself honored that white men should give such prefer- 
 ence to his hospitality. 
 
 The squaw spread a buffalo-robe for us in the guest's 
 place at the head of the lodge. Our saddles were brought 
 in, and scarcely were w^e seated upon them before the 
 place was thronged with Indians, Avho came croAvding in 
 to see us. The Big Crow produced his pipe and filled it 
 with the mixture of tobacco and shongsasha, or red wdllow 
 bark. Round and round it passed, and a lively conversa- 
 tion 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 
 young squaws thrust their heads in at the opening, to 
 invite us to various feasts in different parts of the vil'age. 
 For half an hour or more we were actively engaged in 
 passing from lodge to lodge, tasting in each of the bowls 
 of meat set before us, and inhaling a whiff or two from our 
 entertainer's pipe. A thunder-storm 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 down, and the Indians gathered 
 around 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 
 the Indians think about it." 
 
 So he interpreted my question, which seemed to pro- 
 duce 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 face, and said he had always known what 
 the thunder was. It was a great black bird; and once he 
 
THE OGILLALLAH VILLAGE 177 
 
 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. 
 
 "The thunder is bad," said another old man who sat 
 muffled in his buffalo-robe; "he killed my brother last 
 summer." 
 
 Re3mal, at my request, asked for an explanation; but 
 the old man remained doggedly silent, and would not 
 look up. Some time after I learned how the accident 
 occurred. The man v.dio was killed belonged to an asso- 
 ciation which, among other mystic functions, claimed 
 the exclusive power and privilege of fighting the thunder. 
 Whenever a storm which they wished to avert vras 
 threatening, the thunder fighters would take their bows 
 and arrows, their guns, their magic drum, and a sort of 
 whistle, made out of the wing-bone of the war-eagle. 
 Thus equipped, they would run out and fire at the ris- 
 ing cloud, whooping, j^elHng, whistling, and beating their 
 drum to frighten it down again. One afternoon a heavy 
 black cloud was coming up, and they repaired to the top 
 of a hill, Avhere they brought all their magic artillery into 
 play against it. But the undaunted thunder, refusing 
 to be terrified, kept moving straight onward, and darted 
 out a bright flash which struck one of the party dead, as 
 he was in the very act of shaking his long iron-pointed 
 lance against it. The rest scattered and ran yelling in an 
 ecstasy of superstitious terror back to their lodges. 
 
 The lodge of my host, Kongra Tonga, or the Big Crow, 
 presented a picturesque spectacle that evening. A score 
 or more Indians were seated around it in a circle, their 
 dark naked forms just visible by the dull light of the 
 smouldering fire in the centre. The pipe glowed brightly 
 in the gloom as it passed from hand to hand around the 
 lodge. Then a squaw would drop a piece of buffalo-fat 
 on the dull embers. Instantly a bright glancing flame 
 would leap up, darting its clear light to the very apex of 
 the tall conical structure, where the tops of the slender 
 poles that supported its covering of leather were gathered 
 together. It gilded the features of the Indians, as with 
 animated gestures they sat around it, telling their end- 
 less stories of war and hunting. It displayed rude gar- 
 
178 THE OREGON TRAIL 
 
 ments of skins that hung around the lodge; the bow, 
 quiver, and lance, suspended over the resting-place of the 
 chief, and the rifles and powder-horns of the two white 
 guests. For a moment all would be bright as day; then 
 the flames would die away, and fitful flashes from the 
 embers would illumine the lodge, and then leave it in 
 darkness. Then all the light would wholly fade, and the 
 lodge and all within it be involved again in obscurity. 
 
 As I left the lodge next morning I was saluted by 
 howling and yelping from all around the village, and half 
 its canine population rushed forth to the attack. Being 
 as cowardly as they were clamorous, they kept jumping 
 around me at the distance of a few yards, only one little 
 cur, about ten inches long, having spirit enough to make 
 a direct assault. He dashed valiantly at the leather 
 tassel which in the Dahcotah fashion was trailing behind 
 the heel of my moccasin, and kept his hold, growling and 
 snarling all the vrhile, though every step I made almost 
 jerked him over on his back. As I knew that the eyes of 
 the whole village were on the watch to see if I showed 
 any sign of apprehension, I walked forward without look- 
 ing to the right or left, surrounded wherever I went by 
 this magic circle of dogs. When I came to Reynal's lodge 
 I sat down by it, on which the dogs dispersed growling to 
 their respective quarters. Only one large white one 
 remained, who kept running about before me and show^- 
 ing his teeth. I called him, but he only growled the 
 more. I looked at him well. He was fat and sleek; just 
 such a dog as I wanted. "My friend,'' thought I, "j^ou 
 shall pay for this! I wih have you eaten this very 
 morning ! " 
 
 I intended that day to give the Indians a feast, by 
 way of conveying a favorable impression of my character 
 and dignity; and a white dog is the dish which the cus- 
 toms of the Dahcotah prescribe for all occasions of for- 
 mality and importance. I consulted Reynal; he soon 
 discovered that an old woman in the next lodge was 
 owner of the white dog. I took a gaudy cotton handker- 
 chief, and laying it on the ground, arranged some ver- 
 milion, beads, and other trinkets upon it. Then the old 
 squaAV was summoned. I pointed to the dog and to the 
 
THE OGILLALLAH VILLAGE 179 
 
 handkerchief. She gave a scream of deHght, snatched 
 up the prize, and vanished with it into her lodge. For a 
 few more trifles I engaged the services of two other squaws^ 
 each of whom took the white dog by one of his paws, ancl 
 led him away behind the lodges, while he kept looking 
 up at them with a face of innocent surprise. Having 
 killed him they threw him into a fire to singe; then 
 chopped him up and put him into two large kettles to 
 boil. Meanwhile I told Raymond to fry in buffalo-fat 
 what little flour we had left, and also to make a kettle of 
 tea as an additional item of the repast. 
 
 The Big Crow's squaw was briskly at work sweeping 
 out the lodge for the approaching festivity. I confided 
 to my host himself the task of inviting the guests, think- 
 ing that I might thereby shift from my own shoulders the 
 odium of fancied neglect and oversight. 
 
 When feasting is in question, one hour of the day 
 serves an Indian as well as another. My entertainment 
 came off about eleven o'clock. At that hour, Reynal 
 and Raymond walked across the area of the village, to 
 the admiration of the inhabitants, carrying the two 
 kettles of dog-meat slung on a pole between them. These 
 they placed in the centre of the lodge, and then went 
 back for the bread and the tea. Meanwhile I had put 
 on a pair of brilliant moccasins, and substituted for my 
 old buck-skin frock a coat which I had brought with me 
 in view of such public occasions. I also made careful use 
 of the razor, an operation which no man will neglect 
 who desires to gain the good opinion of Indians. Thus 
 attired, I seated myself between Reynal and Raymond 
 at the head of the lodge. Only a few minutes elapsed 
 before all the guests had come in ancl were seated on the 
 ground, wedged together in a close circle around the 
 lodge. Each brought with him a wooden bowl to hold 
 his share of the repast. When all were assembled, two 
 of the officials, called " soldiers " by the white men, came 
 forward with ladles made of the horn of the Rocky Moun- 
 tain sheep, and began to distribute the feast, always as- 
 signing a double share to the old men and chiefs. The 
 dog vanished with astonishing celerity, and each guest 
 turned his dish bottom upward to show that all was gone. 
 
ISO THE OREGON TRAIL 
 
 Then the bread was distributed in its turn, and finally 
 the tea. As the soldiers poured it out into the same 
 wooden bowls that had served for the substantial part 
 of the meal, I thought it had a particularly curious and 
 uninviting color. 
 
 "Oh!" said Reynal, "there was not enough tea, so I 
 stirred some soot in the kettle, to make it look strong." 
 
 Fortunately an Indian's palate is not very discrimi- 
 nating. The tea was well sweetened, and that was all 
 they cared for. 
 
 Now, the former part of the entertainment being con- 
 cluded, the time for speech-making was come. The Big 
 Crow produced a flat piece of wood on which he cut up 
 tobacco and shongsasha, and mixed them in due propor- 
 tions. The pipes were filled and passed from hand to 
 hand around the company. Then I began my speech, 
 each sentence being interpreted by Reynal as I went on, 
 and echoed bj^ the whole audience with the usual excla- 
 mations of assent and approval. As nearly as I can rec- 
 ollect, it was as follows: 
 
 "I had come,'' I told them, '^from a country so far dis- 
 tant, that at the rate they travel, they could not reach 
 it in a year." 
 
 "How! how!" 
 
 "There the Meneaska were more numerous than the 
 blades of grass on the prairie. The squaws were far more 
 beautiful than any they had ever seen, and all the men 
 were brave warriors." 
 
 "How! how! how!" 
 ^ Here I was assailed by sharp twinges of conscience, 
 for I fancied I could perceive a fragrance of perfumery 
 in the air, and a vision rose before me of white-kid gloves 
 and silken moustaches with the mild and gentle counte- 
 nances of numerous fair-haired young men. But I re- 
 covered myself and began again. 
 
 "While I was living in the Meneaska lodges, I had 
 heard of the Ogillallah, how great and brave a nation 
 they were, how they loved the whites, and how well they 
 could hunt the buffalo and strike their enemies. I re- 
 solved to come and see if all that I heard was true." 
 
 "How! how! how! how!" 
 
THE OGILLALLAH VILLAGE ISl 
 
 "As I had come on horseback through the mountains, 
 I had been able to bring them only a very few presents." 
 
 "How!" 
 
 "But I had enough tobacco to give them all a small 
 piece. They might smoke it, and see how much better 
 it was than the tobacco which they got from the traders." 
 
 " How ! how ! how ! " 
 
 "I had plenty of powder, lead, knives, and tobacco at 
 Fort Laramie. These I was anxious to give them, and 
 if any of them should come to the fort before I went 
 aw^ay, I would make them handsome presents." 
 
 "How! how! how! how!" 
 
 Raymond then cut up and distributed among them 
 two or three pounds of tobacco, and old Mene-Seela be- 
 gan to make a reply. It was quite long, but the follow^- 
 ing was the pith of it: 
 
 "He had always loved the whites. They were the 
 wisest people on earth. He believed they could do 
 everything, and he was always glad w^hen any of them 
 came to live in the Ogillallah lodges. It was true I had 
 not made them many presents, but the reason of it was 
 plain. It was clear that I liked them, or I never should 
 have come so far to find their village." 
 
 Several other speeches of similar import followed, ^and 
 then this more serious matter being disposed of, there 
 was an interval of smoking, laughing, and conversation; 
 but old Mene-Seela suddenly interrupted it with a loud 
 voice: 
 
 "Now is a good time," he said, "when all the old men 
 and chiefs are here together, to decide what the people 
 shall do. We came over the mountain to make our 
 lodges for next year. Our old ones are good for nothing; 
 they are rotten and worn out. But we have been disap- 
 pointed. We have killed buffalo-bulls enough, but we 
 have found no herds of cows, and the skins of bulls are 
 too thick and heavy for our squaws to makes lodges of. 
 There must be plenty of cows about the Medicine-Bow 
 Mountain. We ought to go there. To be sure, it is 
 farther westward than we have ever been before, and 
 perhaps the Snakes will attack us, for those hunting- 
 grounds belong to them. But we must have new lodges at 
 
182 THE OREGON TRAIL 
 
 any rate; our old ones will not serve for another year. 
 We ought not to be afraid of the Snakes. Our warriors 
 are brave, and they are all ready for war. Besides, v/e 
 have three white men with their rifles to help us." 
 
 I could not help thinking that the old man relied a 
 little too much on the aid of allies, one of whom was a 
 coward, another a blockhead, and the third an invalid. 
 This speech produced a good deal of debate. As Reynal 
 did not interpret what was said, I could only judge of the 
 meaning by the features and gestures of the speakers. 
 At the end of it, however, the greater number seemed to 
 have fallen in with Mene-Seela's opinion. A short silence 
 followed, and then the old man struck up a discordant 
 chant, which I was told was a song of thanks for the 
 entertainment I had given them. 
 
 "Now," said he, "let us go and give the white men a 
 chance to breathe." 
 
 So the company all dispersed into the open air, and 
 for some time the old chief was walking around the 
 village, singing his song in praise of the feast, after the 
 usual custom of the nation. 
 
 At last the day drew to a close, and as the sun went down 
 the horses came trooping from the surrounding plains to 
 be picketed before the dwellings of their respective mas- 
 ters. Soon within the great circle of lodges appeared an- 
 other concentric circle of restless horses; and here and 
 there fires were glowing and flickering amid the gloom, 
 on the dusky figures around them. I went over and sat 
 by the lodge of Reynal. The Eagle-Feather, who was 
 a son of Mene-Seela, and brother of my host the Big 
 Crow, was seated there already, and I asked him if the 
 village would move in the morning. He shook his head 
 and said that nobody could tell, for since old Mahto- 
 Tatonka had died, the people had been like children that 
 did not know their own minds. They were no better 
 than a body without a head. So I, as well as the Indians 
 themselves, fell asleep that night without knowing 
 whether we should set out in the morning toward the 
 country of the Snakes. 
 
 At daybreak, however, as I was coming up from the 
 river after my morning's ablutions, I saw that a move- 
 
THE OGILLALLAH VILLAGE 183 
 
 ment was contemplated. Some of the lodges were re- 
 duced to nothing but bare skeletons of poles; the leather 
 covering of others was flapping in the wind as the squaws 
 were pulHng it off. One or two chiefs of note had resolved, 
 it seemed, on moving; and so having set their squaws at 
 work, the example was tacitly followed by the rest of the 
 village. One by one the lodges were sinking down in 
 rapid succession, and where the great circle of the village 
 had been only a moment before, nothing now remained 
 but a ring of horses and Indians, crowded in confusion 
 together. The ruins of the lodges were spread over the 
 ground, together with kettles, stone mallets, great ladles 
 of horn, buffalo-robes, and cases of painted hide, filled 
 with dried meat. Squaws, bustled about in their busy 
 preparations, the old hags screaming to one another at 
 the stretch of their leathern lungs. The shaggy horses 
 \YeYe patiently standing w^hile the lodge-poles were lashed 
 to their sides, and the baggage piled upon their backs. 
 The dogs, with their tongues lolling out, lay lazity pant- 
 ing and waiting for the time of departure. Each warrior 
 sat on the ground by the decaying embers of his fire, 
 unmoved amid all the confusion, while he held in his 
 hand the long trail-rope of his horse. 
 
 As their preparations were completed, each family 
 moved off the ground. The crowd was rapidh^ melting 
 away. I could see them crossing the river, and passing 
 in quick succession along the profile of the hill on the 
 farther bank. When all were gone, I mounted and set 
 out after them, followed by Raymond, and as we gained 
 the summit, the whole village came in view at once, 
 straggling away for a mile or more over the barren plains 
 before us. Everywhere the iron points of lances were glit- 
 tering. The sun never shone upon a more strange array. 
 Here were the heavy-laden pack-horses, some wretched 
 old women leading them, and two or three children 
 clinging to their backs. Here were mules or ponies 
 covered from head to tail with gaudy trappings, and 
 mounted by some gay young squaw, grinning bashfulness 
 and pleasure as the Meneaska looked at her. Boys with 
 miniature bows and arrows were wandering over the plains, 
 little naked children were running along on foot, and 
 
184 THE OREGON TRAIL 
 
 numberless dogs were scampering among the feet of the 
 horses. The young braves, gaudy with paint and feathers^ 
 were riding in groups among the crowd, and often gallop- 
 ing, two or three at once along the line, to try the speed 
 of their horses. Here and there you might see a rank of 
 sturdy pedestrians stalking along in their white buffalo- 
 robes. These were the dignitaries of the village, the old 
 men and warriors, to w^hose age and experience that wan- 
 dering democracy yielded a silent deference. With the 
 rough prairie and the broken hills for its background, the 
 restless scene was striking and picturesque beyond de- 
 scription. Days and weeks made me familiar with it, but 
 never impaired its effect upon my fancy. 
 
 As we moved on, the broken column grew yet more 
 scattered and disorderly, until, as we approached the 
 foot of a hill, I saw the old men before mentioned seating 
 themselves in a line upon the ground, in advance of the 
 whole. They lighted a pipe and sat smoking, laughing, 
 and telling stories, while the people, stopping as they 
 successively came up, were soon gathered in a crowd 
 behind them. Then the old men rose, drew their buffalo- 
 robes over their shoulders, and strode on as before. Gain- 
 ing the top of the hill, we found a very steep declivity 
 before us. There was not a minute's pause. The whole 
 descended in a mass, amid dust and confusion. The horses 
 braced their feet as they slid down, women and children 
 were screaming, dogs yelping as they were trodden upon, 
 while stones and earth went rolling to the bottom. In a 
 few moments I could see the village from the summit, 
 spreading again far and wide over the plain below. 
 
 At our encampment that afternoon I was attacked 
 anew by my old disorder. In half an hour the strength 
 that I had been gaining for a week past had vanished 
 again, and I became like a man in a dream. But at sun- 
 set I lay down in the Big Crow's lodge and slept, totally 
 unconscious till the morning. The first thing that awak- 
 ened me was a hoarse flapping over my head, and a sudden 
 light poured in upon me. The camp was breaking up, 
 and the squaws were moving the covering from the 
 lodge. I arose and shook off my blanket with the feeling 
 of perfect health ; but scarcely had I gained my feet when 
 
THE OGILLALLAH VILLAGE 185 
 
 a sense of my helpless condition was once more forced 
 upon me, and I found myself scarcely able to stand. 
 Raymond had brought up Pauline and the mule, and I 
 stooped to raise my saddle from the ground. My strength 
 was quite inadequate to the task. "You must saddle 
 her/' said I to Raymond as I sat down again on a pile of 
 buffalo-robes : 
 
 " Et hsec etiam fortasse meminisse juvabit," 
 
 I thought, while with a painful effort I raised myself into 
 the saddle. Half an hour after even the expectation 
 that VirgiFs line expressed seemed destined to disap- 
 pointment. As we were passing over a great plain, 
 surrounded by long broken ridges, I rode slowly in ad- 
 vance of the Indians, with thoughts that wandered far 
 from the time and from the place. Suddenly the sky 
 darkened, and thunder began to mutter. Clouds were 
 rising over the hills, as dreary and dull as the first fore- 
 bodings of an approaching calamity; and in a moment all 
 around was wrapped in shadow. I looked behind. The 
 Indians had stopped to prepare for the approaching storm, 
 and the dark, clense mass of savages stretched far to the 
 right and left. Since the first attack of my disorder the 
 effects of rain upon me had usually been injurious in the 
 extreme. I had no strength to spare, having at that mo- 
 ment scarcely enough to keep my seat on horseback. 
 Then, for the first time, it pressed upon me as a strong 
 probability that I might never leave those deserts. 
 "Well," thought I to myself, "a prairie makes quick and' 
 sharp work. Better to die here, in the saddle to the last, 
 than to stifle in the hot air of a sick chamber ; and a thou- 
 sand times better than to drag out life, as many have done, 
 in the helpless inaction of lingering disease.'' So, draw- 
 ing the buffalo-robe on which I sat over my head, I 
 W'aited till the storm should come. It broke at last with 
 a sudden burst of fury, and, passing away as rapidly as 
 it came, left the sky clear again. My reflections served 
 me no other purpose than to look back upon as a piece 
 of curious experience; for the rain did not produce the 
 ill effects that I had expected. We encamped within an 
 hour. Having no change of clothes, I contrived to bor- 
 
186 THE OREGON TRAIL 
 
 row a curious kind of substitute from Reynal; and this 
 done, I went home, that is, to the Big Crow's lodge, to 
 make an entire transfer that was necessary. Half a 
 dozen squaws were in the lodge, and one of them taking 
 my arm held it against her own, while a general laugh 
 and scream of admiration was raised at the contrast in 
 the color of the skin. 
 
 Our encampment that afternoon was not far distant from 
 a spur of the Black Hills, w^hose ridges, bristling w^ith fir 
 trees, rose from the plains a mile or two on our right. 
 That they might move more rapidly toward their pro- 
 posed hunting-grounds, the Indians determined to leave 
 at this place their stock of dried meat and other super- 
 fluous articles. Some left even their lodges, and con- 
 tented themselves with carrying a few hides to make a 
 shelter from the sun and rain. Half the inhabitants set 
 out in the afternoon, with loaded pack-horses, toward 
 the mountains. Here they suspended the dried meat 
 upon trees, where the wolves and grizzly bears could not 
 get at it. All returned at evening. Some of the young 
 men declared that they had heard the reports of guns 
 among the mountains to the eastward, and many sur- 
 mises were thrown out as to the origin of these sounds. 
 For my part, I was in hopes that Shaw and Henry Cha- 
 tillon were coming to join us. I would have welcomed 
 them cordially, for I had no other companions than two 
 brutish white men and five hundred savages. I little 
 suspected that at that very moment my unlucky com- 
 rade was lying on a buffalo-robe at Fort Laramie, fevered 
 with ivy poison, and solacing his woes with tobacco and 
 Shakspeare. 
 
 As we moved over the plains on the next morning, 
 several young men were riding about the country as 
 scouts; and at length we began to see them occasionally 
 on the tops of the hills, shaking their robes as a signal 
 that they saw buffalo. Soon after some bulls came in 
 sight. Horsemen darted away in pursuit, and we could 
 see from the distance that one or two of the buffalo were 
 killed. Raymond suddenly became inspired. I looked 
 at him as he rode by my side; his face had actually grown 
 intelligent ! 
 
THE OGILLALLAH VILLAGE 187 
 
 " This is the country for me ! " he said ; " if I could only 
 carry the buffalo that are killed here every month down 
 to St. Louis, I'd make my fortune in one winter. I'd 
 grow as rich as old Papin or Mackenzie, either. I call 
 this the poor man's market. When I'm hungry, I have 
 only got to take my rifle and go out and get better meat 
 than the rich folks down below can get, with all their 
 money. You won't catch me living in St. Louis another 
 winter." 
 
 ''No," said Reynal, "you had better say that, after 
 you and your Spanish woman almost starved to death 
 there. What a fool you were ever to take her to the settle- 
 ments." 
 
 "Your Spanish woman?" said I; "I never heard of 
 her before. Are you married to her? " 
 
 "No," answ^ered Raymond, again looking intelligent; 
 ''the priests don't marry their women, and why should 
 I marry mine?" 
 
 This honorable mention of the Mexican clergy intro- 
 duced the subject of religion, and I found that my two as- 
 sociates, in common with other white men in the country, 
 were as indifferent to their future welfare as men whose 
 lives are in constant peril are apt to be. Raymond had 
 never heard of the Pope. A certain bishop, who lived at 
 Taos or at Sante Fe, embodied his loftiest idea of an 
 ecclesiastical dignitary. Reynal observed that a priest 
 had been at Fort Laramie two years ago, on his way to 
 the Nez Perce Mission, and that he had confessed all the 
 men there, and given them absolution. "I got a good 
 clearing out myself, that time," said Reynal, "and I 
 reckon that will do for me till I go down to the settle- 
 ments again." 
 
 Here he interrupted himself with an oath, and ex- 
 claimed: "Look! look! The 'Panther' is running an 
 antelope ! " 
 
 The Panther, on his black-and-white horse, one of the 
 best in the village, came at full speed over the hill in hot 
 pursuit of an antelope, that darted away like lightning 
 before him. The attempt was made in mere sport and 
 bravado, for very few are the horses that can for a mo- 
 ment compete in swiftness with this little animal. The 
 
188 THE OREGON TRAIL 
 
 antelope ran down the hill toward the main boay of the 
 Indians, who were moving over the plain below. Sharp 
 yells Vvxre given, and horsemen galloped out to intercept 
 his flight. At this he turned sharply to the left, and 
 scoured away with such incredible speed that he dis- 
 tanced all his pursuers, and even the vaunted horse of 
 the Panther himself. A few moments after, we witnessed 
 a more serious sport. A shaggy buffalo-bull bounded 
 out from a neighboring hollow, and close behind him 
 came a slender Indian boy, riding without stirrups or 
 saddle, and lashing his eager little horse to full speed. 
 Yard after yard he drew closer to his gigantic victim, 
 though the bull, with his short tail erect and his tongue 
 lolling out a foot from his foaming jaws, was straining 
 his unwieldy strength to the utmost. A moment more, 
 and the boy was close alongside of him. It was our friend 
 the Hail-Storm. He dropped the rein on his horse's neck, 
 and jerked an arrow like lightning from the quiver at 
 his shoulder. 
 
 "I tell you," said Reynal, "that in a year's time that 
 boy will match the best hunter in the village. There, he 
 has given it to him! — and there goes another! You feel 
 well, now, old bull, don't you, with two arrows stuck in 
 your hghts? There, he has given him another! Hear 
 how the Hail-Storm yells when he shoots! Yes, jump 
 at him; try it again, old fellow! You may jump all day 
 before you get your horns into that pony ! " 
 
 The bull sprang again and again at his assailant, but 
 the horse kept dodging with wonderful celerity. At length 
 the bull followed up his attack with a furious rush, and 
 the Hail-Storm was put to flight, the shaggy monster 
 following close behind. The boy clung to his seat like a 
 leech, and secure in the speed of his little pony, looked 
 around toward us and laughed. In a moment he was 
 again alongside of the bull, who was now driven to com- 
 plete desperation. His eyeballs glared through his tan- 
 gled mane, and the bloocl flew from his mouth and nos- 
 trils. Thus, still battling with each other, the two enemies 
 disappeared over the hill. 
 
 Many of the Indians rode at full gallop toward the spot. 
 We followed at a more moderate pace, and soon saw 
 
THE OGILLALLAH VILLAGE 189 
 
 the bull lying dead on the side of the hill. The Indians 
 were gathered around him, and several knives were al- 
 ready at work. These little instruments were plied with 
 such wonderful address that the twisted sinews were 
 cut apart, the ponderous bones fell asunder as if by magic, 
 and in a moment the vast carcass was reduced to a heap 
 of bloody ruins. The surrounding group of savages 
 offered no very attractive spectacle to a civilized eye. 
 Some were cracking the huge thigh-bones and devour- 
 ing the marrow within; others w^ere cutting away pieces 
 of the liver and other approved morsels, and swallowing 
 them on the spot Avith the appetite of wolves. The faces 
 of most of them, besmeared with blood from ear to ear, 
 looked grim and horrible enough. My friend, the White 
 Shield, proffered me a marrow-bone, so skilfully laid 
 open that all the rich substance within was exposed to 
 view at once. Another Indian held out a large piece of 
 the delicate lining of the paunch, but these courteous 
 offerings I begged leave to decline. I noticed one little 
 boy who was very busy with his knife about the jaws and 
 throat of the buffalo, from which he extracted some 
 morsel of peculiar delicacy. It is but fair to say that only 
 certain parts of the animal are considered eligible in these 
 extempore banquets. The Indians would look with ab- 
 horrence on any one Who should partake indiscriminately 
 of the newly-killed carcass. 
 
 We encamped that night, and marched westward 
 through the greater part of the following day. On the 
 next morning we again resumed our journey. It was the 
 seventeenth of July, unless my note-book misleads me. 
 At noon we stopped by some pools of rain-water, and 
 in the afternoon again set forward. This double move- 
 ment was contrary to the usual practice of the Indians, 
 but all were very anxious to reach the hunting-ground, 
 kill the necessary number of buffalo, and retreat as soon 
 as possible from the dangerous neighborhood. I pass by 
 for the present some curious incidents that occurred 
 during these marches and encampments. Late in the 
 afternoon of the last-mentioned day we came upon the 
 banks of a little sandy stream, of which the Indians could 
 not tell the name; for they were very ill acquainted with 
 
190 THE OREGON TRAIL 
 
 that part of the countr}^ So parched and arid were the 
 prairies around that they could not supply grass enough 
 for the horses to feed upon, and we were compelled to 
 move farther and farther up the stream in search of 
 ground for encampment. The country was much wilder 
 than before. The plains were gashed with ravines and 
 broken into hollows and steep declivities, which flanked 
 our course, as, in long scattered array, the Indians ad- 
 vanced up the side of the stream. Mene-Seela consulted 
 an extraordinary oracle to instruct him where the buffalo 
 were to be found. When he with the other chiefs sat 
 down on the grass to smoke and converse, as they often 
 did during the march, the old man picked up one of those 
 enormous black and green crickets, which the Dahcotah 
 call by a name that signifies "They who point out the 
 buffalo." The " Root-Diggers," a wretched tribe beyond 
 the mountains, turn them to good account by making 
 them into a sort of soup, pronounced by certain un- 
 scrupulous trappers to be extremely rich. Holding the 
 bloated insect respectfully between his fingers and thumb, 
 the old Indian looked attentively at him and inquired, 
 ^^Tell me, my father, where must we go to-morrow to 
 find the buffalo?" The cricket twisted about his long 
 horns in evident embarrassment. At last he pointed, or 
 seemed to point, them westward. Mene-Seela, dropping 
 him gently on the grass, laughed with great glee, and 
 said that if we went that way in the morning we should 
 be sure to kill plenty of game. 
 
 Toward evening we came upon a fresh green meadow, 
 traversed by the stream, and deep-set among tall sterile 
 bluffs. The Indians descended its steep bank; and as I 
 was at the rear, I was one of the last to reach this point. 
 Lances were glittering, feathers fluttering, and the water 
 below me was crowded with men and horses passing 
 through, while the meadow bej^ond was swarming with 
 the restless crowd of Indians. The sun was just setting, 
 and poured its softened light upon them through an 
 opening in the hills. 
 
 I remarked to Reynal that at last we had found a good 
 camping-ground . 
 
 "Oh, it is very good," replied he, ironically, "espe- 
 
THE OGILLALLAH VILLAGE 191 
 
 cially if there is a Snake war-party about, and they take 
 it into their heads to shoot down at us from the top of 
 these hills. It is no plan of mine, camping in such a hole- 
 as this!" 
 
 The Indians also seemed apprehensive. High up on 
 the top of the tallest bluff, conspicuous in the bright 
 evening sunlight, sat a naked warrior on horseback, 
 looking around, as it seemed, over the neighboring coun- 
 tr}^; and Raymond told me that many of the young meix 
 had gone out in different directions as scouts. 
 
 The shadows had reached to the very summit of the 
 bluffs before the lodges were erected and the village re- 
 duced to quiet and order. A cry was suddenly raised, 
 and men, women, and children came running out with 
 animated faces, and looked eagerly through the opening 
 on the hills by which the stream entered from the west- 
 ward. I could discern afar off some dark, heavy masses^ 
 passing over the sides of a low hill. They disappeared^ 
 and then others followed. These were bands of buffalo- 
 cows. The hunting-ground was reached at last, and 
 everything promised well for the morrow's sport. Being 
 fatigued and exhausted, I went and lay down in Kongra- 
 Tonga's lodge, when Raymond thrust in his head, and 
 called upon me to come and see some sport. A number 
 of Indians were gathered, laughing, along the line of 
 lodges on the western side of the village, and at some 
 distance, I could plainly see in the twilight two huge 
 black monsters stalking, heavily and solemnly, directly 
 toward us. They were buffalo-bulls. The wind blew 
 from them to the village, and such was their blindness 
 and stupidity, that they were advancing upon the enemy 
 without the least consciousness of his presence. Ray- 
 mond told me that two young men had hidden themselves 
 with guns in a ravine about twenty yards in front of us. 
 The two bulls walked slowly on, heavily swinging from 
 side to side in their peculiar gait of stupid dignity. They 
 approached within four or five rods of the ravine where 
 the Indians lay in ambush. Here at last they seemed 
 conscious that something was wrong, for they both 
 stopped and stood perfectly still, without looking either 
 to the right or to the left. Nothing of them was to be 
 
192 THE OREGON TRAIL 
 
 seen but two huge black masses of shaggy mane, with 
 horns, eyes, and nose in the centre, and a pair of hoofs 
 visible at the bottom. At last the more intelligent of 
 them seemed to have concluded that it was time to re- 
 tire. Very slowly, and with an air of the gravest and 
 most majestic deliberation, he began to turn round, as if 
 he were revolving on a pivot. Little by little his ugly 
 brown side was exposed to view. A white smoke sprang 
 out, as it were, from the ground; a sharp report came 
 w^th it. The old bull gave a very undignified jump, and 
 galloped off. At this his comrade wheeled about with 
 considerable expedition. The other Indian shot at him 
 from the ravine, and then both the bulls were running 
 away at full speed, while half the juvenile population of 
 the village raised a yell and ran after them. The first 
 bull soon stopped, and while the crowd stood looking 
 at him at a respectful distance, he reeled and rolled over 
 on his side. The other, wounded in a less vital part, 
 galloped away to the hills and escaped. 
 
 In half an hour it was totally dark. I lay down to 
 sleep, and ill as I was, there was something very animat- 
 ing in the prospect of the general hunt that was to take 
 place on the morrow. 
 
 CHAPTER XV 
 
 THE HUNTING CAMP 
 
 "The Perse owt of Northamberlande, 
 And a vowe to God mayde he, 
 That he wolde hunte in the mount ayns 
 
 Off Chyviat within dayes thre, 
 In the mauger of doughte Dogles, 
 And all that ever with him be." 
 
 Chevy Chase. 
 
 Long before daybreak the Indians broke up their 
 camp. The women of Mene-Seela's lodge were, as usual, 
 among the first that were ready for departure, and I 
 found the old man himself sitting by the embers of the 
 decayed fire, over which he was warming his withered 
 
THE HUNTING CAMP 193 
 
 fingers, as the morning was very chilly and damp. The 
 preparations for moving were even more confused and 
 disorderly than usual. While some families were leav- 
 ing the ground the lodges of others were still standing 
 untouched. At this, old Mene-Seela grew impatient, and 
 walking out to the middle of the village stood with his 
 robe wrapped close around him, a"nd harangued the 
 people in a loud, sharp voice. Now, he said, when they 
 were on an enemy's hunting-grounds, was not the time 
 to behave like children; they ought to be more active 
 and united than ever. His speech had some effect. The 
 delinquents took down their lodges and loaded their pack- 
 horses ; and when the sun rose, the last of the men, women, 
 and children had left the deserted camp. 
 
 This movement was made merely for the purpose of 
 finding a better and safer position. So we advanced 
 only three or four miles up the little stream, before each 
 family assumed its relative place in the great ring of the 
 village, and all around the squaws were actively at work 
 in preparing the camp. But not a single warrior dis- 
 mounted from his horse. All the men that morning 
 were mounted on inferior animals, leading their best 
 horses by a cord, or confiding them to the care of boys. 
 In small parties they began to leave the ground and ride 
 rapidly avray over the plains to the westward. I had 
 taken no food that morning, and not being at all ambi- 
 tious of farther abstinence, I went into my host's lodge 
 which his squaws had erected with wonderful celerity, 
 and sat down in the centre, as a gentle hint that I w^as 
 hungry. A wooden bowl was soon set before me, filled 
 with the nutritious preparation of dried meat, called 
 pemmican by the northern voyagers, and wasna by the 
 Dahcotah. Taking a handful to break my fast upon, I 
 left the lodge just in time to see the last band of hunters 
 disappear over the ridge of the neighboring hill. I 
 mounted Pauline and galloped in pursuit, riding rather 
 by the balance than by any muscular strength that re- 
 mained to me. From the top of the hill I could overlook 
 a wide extent of desolate and unbroken prairie, over 
 which, far and near, little parties of naked horsemen 
 were rapidly passing. I soon came up to the nearest, and 
 
194 THE OREGON TRAIL 
 
 we had not ridden a mile before all were united into one 
 large and compact body. All was haste and eagerness. 
 Each hunter was whipping on his horse, as if anxious to be 
 the first to reach the game. In such movements among 
 the Indians this is always more or less the case; but it 
 was especially so in the present instance, because the 
 head chief of the village was absent, and there were but 
 few "soldiers," a sort of Indian police, who among their 
 other functions usually assume the direction of a buffalo- 
 hunt. No man turned to the right hand or to the left. 
 We rode at a swift canter straight forward, up hill and 
 down hill, and through the stiff, obstinate growth of the 
 endless wild-sage bushes. For an hour and a half the 
 same red shoulders, the same long black hair rose and 
 fell with the motion of the horses before me. Very little 
 was said, though once I observed an old man severely 
 reproving Raymond for having left his rifle behind him, 
 when there was some probability of encountering an 
 enemy before the day was over. As we galloped across 
 a plain thickly set with sage bushes, the foremost riders 
 vanished suddenly from sight, as if diving into the earth. 
 The arid soil was cracked into a deep ravine. Down we 
 all went in succession and galloped in a line along the 
 bottom, until we found a point where, one by one, the 
 horses could scramble out. Soon after, we came upon a 
 wide shallow stream, and as we rode swiftly over the 
 hard sand-beds and through the thin sheets of rippling 
 water, many of the savage horsemen threw themselves 
 to the ground, knelt on the sand, snatched a hasty draught, 
 and leaping back again to their seats, galloped on again 
 as before. 
 
 Meanwhile scouts kept in advance of the party; and 
 now we began to see them on the ridge of the hills, wav- 
 ing their robes in token that buffalo were visible. These, 
 however, proved to be nothing more than old straggling 
 bulls, feeding upon the neighboring plains, who would 
 stare for a moment at the hostile array and then gallop 
 clumsily off. At length we could discern several of these 
 scouts making their signals to us at once; no longer 
 waving their robes boldly from the top of the hill, but 
 standing lower down, so that they could not be seen from 
 
THE HUNTING CAMP 195 
 
 the plains beyond. Game worth pursuing had evidently 
 been discovered. The excited Indians now urged for- 
 ward their tired horses even more rapidly than before. 
 Pauline, who was still sick and jaded, began to groan 
 heavily; and her yellow sides were darkened with sweat. 
 As we were crowding together over a. lower intervening 
 hill, I heard Reynal and Raymond shouting to me from 
 the left; and looking in that direction, I saw them riding 
 away behind a party of about twenty mean-looking 
 Indians. These were the relatives of Reynal's squaw, 
 Margot, who not wishing to take part in the general 
 hunt, were riding toward a distant hollow, where they 
 could discern a small band of buffalo which they meant 
 to appropriate to themselves. I answered to the call 
 by ordering Raymond to turn back and follow me. He 
 reluctantly obeyed, though Reynal, who had relied on 
 his assistance in skinning, cutting up, and carrying to 
 camp the buffalo that he and his party should kill, loudly 
 protested and declared that we should see no sport if we- 
 went with the rest of the Indians. Followed by Ray- 
 mond, I pursued the main body of hunters, while Reynal, 
 in a great rage, whipped his horse over the hill after his 
 ragamuffin relatives. The Indians, still about a hundred 
 in number, rode in a dense body at some distance in ad- 
 vance. They galloped forward, and a cloud of dust was 
 flying in the wind behind them. I could not overtake 
 them until they had stopped on the side of the hill where 
 the scouts were standing. Here each hunter sprang in 
 haste from the tired animal which he had ridden, and 
 leaped upon the fresh horse that he had brought with 
 him. There was not a saddle or a bridle in the whole 
 party. A piece of buffalo-robe, girthed over the horse's 
 back, served in the place of the one, and a cord of twisted 
 hair, lashed firmly round his lower jaw, answered for the 
 other. Eagle feathers were dangling from every mane 
 and tail, as insignia of courage and speed. As for the 
 rider, he wore no other clothing than a light cincture at 
 his waist, and a pair of moccasins. He had a heavy whip^ 
 with a handle of solid elk-horn, and a lash of knotted 
 bul]-hide, fastened to his wrist by an ornamental band. 
 His bow was in his hand, and his quiver of otter or panther 
 
196 THE OREGON TRAIL 
 
 skin hung at his shoulder. Thus equipped, some thirty 
 of the hunters galloped away toward the left, in order to 
 make a circuit under cover of the hills, that the buffalo 
 might be assailed on both sides at once. The rest impa- 
 tiently waited until time enough had elapsed for their 
 companions to reach the required position. Then riding 
 upward in a body, we gained the ridge of the hill, and for 
 the first time came in sight of the buffalo on the plain 
 beyond. 
 
 They were a band of coavs, four or five hundred in 
 number, who were crowded together near the bank of a 
 wide stream that was soaking across the sand-beds of the 
 valley. This was a large circular basin, sun scorched 
 and broken, scantily covered with herbage and encom- 
 passed with high barren hills, from an opening in which 
 we could see our allies galloping out upon the plain. The 
 wind blew from that direction. The buffalo were aware 
 of their approach, and had begun to move, though very 
 slowly and in a compact mass. I have no farther recol- 
 lection of seeing the game until we were in the midst of 
 them, for as we descended the hill other objects engrossed 
 my attention. Numerous old bulls were scattered over 
 the plain, and ungallantly deserting their charge at our 
 approach, began to wade and plunge through the treach- 
 erous quicksands of the stream, and gallop away to- 
 ward the hiUs. One old veteran was strugghng behind all 
 the rest with one of his forelegs, which had been broken 
 by some accident, dangling about uselessly at his side. 
 His appearance, as he went shambling along on three 
 legs, was so ludicrous that I could not help pausing for a 
 moment to look at him. As I came near, he would try 
 to rush upon me, nearly throwing himself down at every 
 awkward attempt. Looking up, I saw the whole body 
 of Indians fully an hundred yards in advance. I lashed 
 Pauline in pursuit and reached them just in time; for as 
 we mingled among them, each hunter, as if by a common 
 impulse, violently struck his horse, each horse sprang 
 forward convulsively, and scattering in the charge in 
 order to assail the entire herd at once, we all rushed 
 headlong upon the buffalo. We were among them in an 
 instant. Amid the trampling and the yells I could see 
 
THE HUNTING CAMP 197 
 
 their dark figures running hither and thither through 
 clouds of dust, and the horsemen darting in pursuit. 
 While we were charging on one side, our companions had 
 attacked the bewilclered and panic-striken herd on the 
 other. The uproar and confusion lasted but for a mo- 
 ment. The dust cleared away, and the buffalo could be 
 seen scattering as from a common centre, flying over the 
 plain singly, or in long files and small compact bodies, 
 while behind each followed the Indians, lashing their 
 horses to furious speed, forcing them close upon their 
 prey, and yelling as they launched arrow after arrow 
 into their sides. The large black carcasses were strewn 
 thickly over the ground. Here and there wounded 
 buffalo were standing, their bleeding sides feathered with 
 arrows; and as I rode past them their eyes would glare, 
 they would bristle like gigantic cats, and feebly attempt 
 to rush up and gore my horse. 
 
 I left camp that morning with a philosophic resolution. 
 Neither I nor my horse was at that time fit for such sport, 
 and I had determined to remain a quiet spectator; but 
 amid the rush of horses and buffalo, the uproar and the 
 dust, I found it impossible to sit still; and as four or five 
 buffalo ran past me in a line, I drove Pauline in pursuit. 
 We went plunging close at their heels through the water 
 and the quicksands, and, clambering the bank, chased 
 them through the wild-sage bushes that covered the rising 
 ground beyond. But neither her native spirit nor the 
 blows of the knotted bull-hide could suppty the place of 
 poor Pauline's exhausted strength. We could not gain 
 an inch upon the poor fugitives. At last, however, they 
 came full upon a ravine too wide to leap over; and as 
 this compelled them to turn abruptly to the left, I con- 
 trived to get within ten or twelve yards of the hindmost. 
 At this she faced about, bristled angrily, and made a show 
 of charging. I shot at her with a large holster pistol, and 
 hit her somewhere in the neck. Down she tumbled into 
 the ravine, whither her companions had descended before 
 her. I saw their dark backs appearing and disappearing 
 as they galloped along the bottom ; then, one by one, they 
 came scrambling out on the other side, and ran off as be- 
 fore, the wounded animal following with unabated speed. 
 
198 THE OREGON TRAIL 
 
 Turning back, I saw Raymond coming on his black 
 mule to meet me; and as we rode over the field together^ 
 we counted dozens of carcasses lying on the plain, in the 
 ravines, and on the sandy bed of the stream. Far away 
 in the distance, horses and buffalo were still scouring 
 along, with little clouds of dust rising behind them; and 
 over the sides of the hills we could see long files of the 
 frightened animals rapidly ascending. The hunters be- 
 gan to return. The boys, who had held the horses behind 
 the hill, made their appearance, and the work of flaying 
 and cutting up began in earnest all over the field. I 
 noticed my host, Kongra-Tonga, beyond the stream, 
 just alighting by the side of a cow which he had killed. 
 Riding up to him, I found him in the act of drawing out 
 an arrow, which, with the exception of the notch at the 
 end, had entirely disappeared in the animal. I asked 
 him to give it to me, and I still retain it as a proof, though 
 by no means the most striking one that could be offered, 
 of the force and dexterity with which the Indians dis- 
 charge their arrows. 
 
 The hides and meat were piled upon the horses, and 
 the hunters began to leave the ground. Raymond and I, 
 too, getting tired of the scene, set out for the village; 
 riding straight across the intervening desert. There was 
 no path, and, as far as I could see, no landmarks suf- 
 ficient to guide us; but Raymond seemed to have an in- 
 stinctive perception of the point on the horizon toward 
 which we ought to direct our course. Antelope were 
 bounding on all sides, and as is always the case in the 
 presence of buffalo, they seemed to have lost their natural 
 shyness and timidit3^ Bands of them would run lightly 
 up the rocky declivities, and stand gazing down upon us 
 from the summit. At length we could distinguish the 
 tall white rocks and the old pine trees that, as we well 
 remembered, w^ere just above the site of the encamp- 
 ment. Still, we could see nothing of the village itself 
 until, ascending a grassy hill, we found the circle of lodges, 
 dingy with storms and smoke, standing on the plain at 
 our very feet. 
 
 I entered the lodge of my host. His squaw instantly 
 brought me food and water, and spread a buffalo-robe 
 
THE HUNTING CAMP 199 
 
 for me to lie upon; and, being much fatigued, I lay down 
 and fell asleep. In about an hour the entrance of Kongra- 
 Tonga, with his arms smeared with blood to the elbows, 
 awoke me. He sat down in his usual seat, on the left side 
 of the lodge. His squaw gave him a vessel of water for 
 washing, set before him a bowl of boiled meat, and as he' 
 was eating, pulled off his bloody moccasins and placed 
 fresh ones on his feet; then, outstretching his limbs, my 
 host composed himself to sleep. 
 
 And now the hunters, two or three at a time, began to 
 €ome rapidly in, and each, consigning his horses to the 
 squaws, entered his lodge with the air of a man whose 
 day's work was done. The squaws flung down the load 
 from the burdened horses, and vast piles of meat and 
 hides were soon accumulated before every lodge. By 
 this time it was darkening fast, and the whole village w^as 
 illumined by the glare of fires blazing all around. All 
 the squaws and children were gathered about the piles 
 of meat, exploring them in search of the daintiest. por- 
 tions. Some of these they roasted on sticks before the 
 fires, but often they dispensed w^ith this superfluous 
 operation. Late into the night the fires were still glow- 
 ing upon the groups of feasters engaged in this savage 
 banquet around them. 
 
 Several hunters sat down by the fire in Kongra-Tonga's 
 lodge to talk over the day's exploits. Among the rest, 
 Mene-Seela came in. Though he must have seen full 
 eighty winters, he had taken an active share in the day's 
 sport. He boasted that he had killed two cows that 
 morning, and would have killed a third if the dust had 
 not blinded him so that he had to drop his bow and ar- 
 rows and press both hands against his eyes to stop the 
 pain. The firelight fell upon his wrinkled face and shriv- 
 elled figure as he sat telling his story with such inimitable 
 gesticulation that every man in the lodge broke into a 
 laugh. 
 
 Old Mene-Seela was one of the few Indians in the 
 village with whom I would have trusted myself alone 
 without suspicion, and the only one from whom I should 
 have received a gift or a service without the certainty 
 that it proceeded from an interested motive. He was a 
 
200 THE OREGON TRAIL 
 
 great friend to the whites. He hked to be in their society, 
 and was very vain of the favors he had received from 
 them. He told me one afternoon, as we Avere sitting to- 
 gether in his son's lodge, that he considered the beaver 
 and the whites the wisest people on earth; indeed, he 
 was convinced they were the same ; and an incident which 
 had happened to him long before had assured him of 
 this. So he began the following story, and as the pipe 
 passed in turn to him, Reynal availed himself of these 
 interruptions to translate wdiat had preceded. But the 
 old man accompanied his words with such admirable 
 pantomime that translation was hardly necessary. 
 
 He said that when he was very young, and had never 
 yet seen a white man, he and three or four of his com- 
 panions were out on a beaver-hunt, and he crawled into 
 a large beaver-lodge to examine what was there. Some- 
 times he was creeping on his hands and knees, sometimes 
 he was obliged to swim, and sometimes to lie flat on his 
 face ^ and drag himself along. In this way he crawled a 
 great distance under ground. It was very dark, cold, 
 and close, so that at last he was almost suffocated, and 
 fell into a swoon. When he began to recover, he could 
 just distinguish the voices of his companions outside, 
 who had given him up for lost, and were singing his 
 death-song. At first he could see nothing, but soon he 
 discerned something white before him, and at length 
 plainly distinguished three people, entirely white, one 
 man and two women, sitting at the edge of a black pool 
 of water. He became alarmed and thought it high time 
 to retreat. Having succeeded, after great trouble, in 
 reaching daylight again, he went straight to the spot 
 directly above the pool of water where he had seen the 
 three mysterious beings. Here he beat a hole with his 
 war-club in the ground, and sat down to watch. In a 
 moment the nose of an old male beaver appeared at the 
 opening. Mene-Seela instantly seized him and dragged 
 him up, when two other beavers, both females, thrust 
 out their heads, and these he served in the same way. 
 ''These," continued the old man, "must have been the 
 three white people whom I saw sitting at the edge of the 
 water.'' 
 
THE HUNTING CAMP 201 
 
 Mene-Seela was the grand depositary of the legends 
 and traditions of the village. I succeeded, however, in 
 getting from him only a few fragments. Like all Indians, 
 he was excessively superstitious, and continually saw 
 some reason for Avithholding his stories. '^It is a bad 
 thing," he would say, ''to tell the tales in summer. Stay 
 with us till next winter, and I will tell you everything I 
 know; but now our war-parties are going out, and our 
 young men will be killed if I sit down to tell stories before 
 the frost begins." 
 
 But to leave this digression. We remained encamped 
 on this spot five days, during three of which the hunters 
 were at work incessantly, and immense quantities of meat 
 and hides were brought in. Great alarm, however, pre- 
 vailed in the village. All were on the alert. The young 
 men wei'e ranging through the country as scouts, and the 
 old men paid careful attention to omens and prodigies, 
 and especially to their dreams. In order to convey to 
 the enemy (who, if they were in the neighborhood, must 
 inevitably have known of our presence) the impression 
 that we were constantly on the watch, piles of sticks and 
 stones were erected on all the surrounding hills, in such 
 a manner as to appear, at a distance, like sentinels. 
 Often, even to this hour, that scene will rise before my 
 mind like a visible reality: the tall white rocks; the old 
 pine trees on their summits; the sandy stream that ran 
 along their bases and half encircled the village; and the 
 wild-sage bushes, with their dull green hue and their 
 medicinal odor, that covered all the neighboring declivi- 
 ties. Hour after hour the squaws would pass and repass 
 with their vessels of water between the stream and the 
 lodges. For the most part, no one was to be seen in the 
 camp but women and children, two or three superannu- 
 ated old men, and a few lazy and worthless young ones. 
 These, together with the dogs, now grown fat and good- 
 natured with the abundance in the camp, were its only 
 tenants. Still it presented a busy and bustling scene. 
 In all quarters the meat, hung on cords of hide, was drying 
 in the sun, and around the lodges the squaws, young and 
 old, were laboring on the fresh hides that were stretched 
 upon the ground, scraping the hair from one side and the 
 
202 THE OREGON TRAIL 
 
 still-adhering flesh from the other, and rubbing into 
 them the brains of the buffalo, in order to render them 
 soft and pliant. 
 
 In mercy to myself and my horse, I never went out 
 with the hunters after the first day. Of late, however, I 
 had been gaining strength rapidly, as was always the 
 case upon every respite of my disorder. I was soon able 
 to walk with ease. Raymond and I would go out upon 
 the neighboring prairies to shoot antelope, or sometimes 
 to assail straggling buffalo, on foot; an attempt in which 
 we met with rather indifferent success. To kill a bull 
 with a rifle-ball is a difficult art, in the secret of which I 
 was as yet very imperfectly initiated. As I came out of 
 Kongra-Tonga's lodge one morning, Reynal called to me 
 from the opposite side of the village, and asked me over 
 to breakfast. The breakfast was a substantial one. It 
 consisted of the rich, juicy hump-ribs of a fat cow; a 
 repast absolutely unrivalled. It was roasting before the 
 fire, impaled upon a stout stick, which Reynal took up 
 and planted in the ground before his lodge; when he, 
 with Raymond and myself, taking our seats around it, 
 unsheathed our knives and assailed it with good will. 
 In spite of all medical experience, this solid fare, without 
 bread or salt, seemed to agree with me admirably. 
 
 ^' We shall have strangers here before night," said Reynal. 
 
 ^' How do you know that? " I asked. 
 
 '' I dreamed so. I am as good at dreaming as an Indian. 
 There is the Hail-Storm ; he dreamed the same thing, and 
 he and his crony, the Rabbit, have gone out on discovery.'^ 
 
 I laughed at Reynal for his credulity, went over to my 
 host's lodge, took down my rifle, walked out a mile or 
 two on the prairie, saw an old bull standing alone, crawled 
 up a ravine, shot him, and saw him escape. Then, quite 
 exhausted and rather ill-humored, I walked back to the 
 village. By a strange coincidence, ReynaFs prediction 
 had been verified; for the first persons whom I saw were 
 the two trappers. Rouleau and Saraphin, coming to meet 
 me. These men, as the reader may possibly recollect, had 
 left our party about a fortnight before. They had been 
 trapping for a while among the Black Hifls, and were 
 now on their way to the Rocky Mountains, intending in 
 
THE HUNTING CAMP 203 
 
 a day or two to set out for the neighboring Medicine 
 Bow. They were not the most elegant or refined of com- 
 panions, yet they made a very welcome addition to the 
 limited society of the village. For the rest of that day 
 we lay smoking and talking in Reynal's lodge. This, 
 indeed, was no better than a little hut, made of hides 
 stretched on poles, and entirely open in front. It was 
 well carpeted with soft buffalo-robes, and here we re- 
 mained, sheltered from the sun, surrounded by various 
 domestic utensils of Madame Margot's household. All 
 was quiet in the village. Though the hunters had not 
 gone out that day, they lay sleeping in their lodges, and 
 most of the women were silently engaged in their heavy 
 tasks. A few young men w^ere playing at a lazy game of 
 ball in the centre of the village; and when they became 
 tired, some girls supplied their place with a more boister- 
 ous sport. At a little distance, among the lodges, some 
 children and half-grow^n squaws were playfully tossing 
 up one of their number in a buffalo-robe, an exact counter- 
 part of the ancient pastime from which Sancho Panza 
 suffered so much. Farther out on the prairie, a host of 
 little naked boys were roaming, engaged in various rough 
 games, or pursuing birds and ground-squirrels with their 
 bows and arrows; and woe to the unhappy little animals 
 that fell into their merciless, torture-loving hands! A 
 squaw from the next lodge, a notable active housewife, 
 named Weah Washtay, or the Good Woman, brought us 
 a large bowl of wasna, and went into an ecstasy of de- 
 light when I presented her with a green glass ring, such 
 as I usually wore with a view to similar occasions. 
 
 The sun went clown, and half the sky was glowing 
 fiery red, reflected on the little stream as it wound away 
 among the sage bushes. Some young men left the village, 
 and soon returned, driving in before them all the horses, 
 hundreds in number, and of every size, age, and color. 
 The hunters came out, and each securing those that 
 belonged to him, examined their condition, and tied 
 them fast by long cords to stakes driven in front of his 
 lodge. It was half an hour before the bustle subsided and 
 tranquillity was restored again. By this time it was 
 nearly dark. Kettles were hung over the blazing fires, 
 
204 THE OREGON TRAIL 
 
 around which the squaws were gathered with their chil- 
 dren, laughing and talking merrily. A circle of a different 
 kind was formed in the centre of the village. This was 
 composed of the old men and warriors of repute, who 
 with their white buffalo-robes drawn close around their 
 shoulders, sat together, and as the pipe passed from 
 hand to hand, their conversation had not a particle of 
 the gravity and reserve usually ascribed to Indians. I 
 sat down with them as usual. I had in my hand half a 
 dozen squibs and serpents, which I had made one day 
 when encamped upon Laramie Creek, out of gunpowder 
 and charcoal, and the leaves of "Fremont's Expedition," 
 rolled round a stout lead-pencil. I waited till I contrived 
 to get hold of the large piece of burning bois-de-vache 
 which the Indians kept by them on the ground for light- 
 ing their pipes. With this I lighted all the fireworks at 
 once, and tossed them whizzing and sputtering into the 
 air, over the heads of the company. They all jumped up 
 and ran off with yelps of astonishment and consternation. 
 After a moment or two, they ventured to come back one 
 by one, and some of the boldest, picking up the cases of 
 burnt paper that were scattered about, examined them 
 with eager curiosity to discover their mysterious secret. 
 From that time forward I enjoyed great repute as a "fire 
 medicine." 
 
 The camp was filled w^ith . the lov/ hum of cheerful 
 voices. There were other sounds, however, of a ver}^ 
 different kind, for from a large lodge, lighted up like a 
 gigantic lantern by the blazing fire within, came a chorus 
 of dismal cries and wailings, long drawn out, like the 
 howling of wolves, and a woman, almost naked, was 
 crouching close outside, crying violently, and gashing 
 her legs with a knife till they were covered with blood. 
 Just a year before, a young man belonging to this family 
 had gone out with a war-party and had been slain by the 
 enemy, and his relatives were thus lamenting his loss. 
 Still other sounds might be heard ; loud earnest cries often 
 repeated from amid the gloom, at a distance beyond the 
 village. They proceeded from some young men who, 
 being about to set out in a few days on a warlike expedi- 
 tion, were standing at the top of a hill, calling on the 
 
THE HUNTING CAMP 205 
 
 Great Spirit to aid them in their enterprise. While I was 
 Hstening, Rouleau, with a laugh on his careless face, 
 called to me and directed my attention to another quarter. 
 In front of the lodge where Weah Washtay lived another 
 squaw was standing, angrily scolding an old yellow dog, 
 who lay on the ground with his nose resting between his 
 paws, and his eyes turned sleepily up to her face, as if he 
 were pretending to give respectful attention, but resolved 
 to fall asleep as soon as it was all over. 
 
 ''You ought to be ashamed of yourself!" said the old 
 woman. " I have fed you well, and taken care of you 
 ever since you were small and blind, and could only crawl 
 about and squeal a little, instead of howling as you do 
 now. When you grew old, I said you were a good dog. 
 You were strong and gentle when the load was put on 
 your back, and you never ran among the feet of the horses 
 when we were all travelling together over the prairie. 
 But you had a bad heart! Whenever a rabbit jumped 
 out of the bushes, you were always the first to run after 
 him and lead away all the other dogs behind you. You 
 ought to have known that it was very dangerous to act 
 so. When you had got far out on the prairie, and no one 
 was near to help you, perhaps a v\'olf would jump out of 
 the ravine; and then what could you do? You would 
 certainly have been killed, for no dog can fight well with 
 a load on his back. Only three days ago you ran off in 
 that way, and turned over the bag of wooden pins with 
 which I used to fasten up the front of the lodge. Look up 
 there, and you will see that it is all flapping open. And 
 now to-night you have stolen a great piece of fat meat 
 which was roasting before the fire for my children. I tell 
 you, you have a bad heart, and you must die ! " 
 
 So saying, the squaw went into the lodge, and coming 
 out with a large stone mallet, killed the unfortunate dog 
 at one blow. This speech is worthy of notice, as illustrat- 
 ing a curious characteristic of the Indians; the ascribing 
 intelligence and a power of understanding speech to the 
 inferior animals; to whom, indeed, according to many of 
 their traditions, they are linked in close affinity; and 
 they even claim the honor of a lineal descent from bears, 
 wolveS; deer, or tortoises. 
 
206 THE OREGON TRAIL 
 
 As it grew late, and the crowded population began to 
 disappear, I too walked across the village to the lodge of 
 my host, Kongra-Tonga. As I entered I saw him, by 
 the flickering blaze of the fire in the centre, reclining half 
 asleep in his usual place. His couch was by no means an 
 uncomfortable one. It consisted of soft buffalo-robes, 
 Ikid together on the ground, and a pillow made of whitened 
 deer-skin, stuffed with feathers and ornamented with 
 beads. At his back w^as a light framework of poles and 
 slender reeds, against which he could lean with ease 
 when in a sitting posture'; and at the top of it, just above 
 his head, his bow and quiver were hanging. His squaw, 
 a laughing, broad-faced woman, apparently had not yet 
 completed her domestic arrangements, for she was bus- 
 tling about the lodge pulling over the utensils and the 
 bales of dried meats that were ranged carefully around 
 it. Unhappily, she and her partner were not the only 
 tenants of the dwelling; for half a dozen children were 
 scattered about, sleeping in every imaginable posture. 
 My saddle was in its place at the head of the lodge, and a 
 buffalo-robe was spread on the ground before it. Wrap- 
 ping myself in my blanket, I lay down; but had I not been 
 extremely fatigued, the noise in the next lodge would 
 have prevented my sleeping. There was the monoto- 
 nous thumping of the Indian drum, mixed with occasional 
 sharp yells, and a chorus chanted by twenty voices. A 
 grand scene of gambling was going forAvard with all the 
 appropriate formalities. The players were staking on 
 the chance issue of the game their ornaments, their horses, 
 and as the excitement rose, their garments, and even their 
 weapons; for desperate gambling is not confined to the 
 hells of Paris. The men of the plains and the forests no 
 less resort to it as a violent but grateful relief to the tedi- 
 ous monotony of their lives, which alternate between 
 fierce excitement and listless inaction. I fell asleep with 
 the dull notes of the drum still sounding on my ear; but 
 these furious orgies lasted without intermission till day- 
 light. I was soon awakened by one of the children crawl- 
 ing over me, while another larger one was tugging at my 
 blanket and nestling himself in a very disagreeable 
 proximity. I immecliately repelled these advances by 
 
THE HUNTING CAMP 207 
 
 punching the heads of these miniature savages with a 
 short stick which I always kept by me for the purpose; 
 and as sleeping half the day and eating much more than 
 is good for them makes them extremely restless, this 
 operation usually had to be repeated four or five times 
 in the course of the night. My host himself was the author 
 of another most formidable annoyance. All these Indians, 
 and he among the rest, think themselves bound to the 
 constant performance of certain acts as the condition on 
 which their success in life depends, wdiether in war, love, 
 hunting, or any other employment. These " medicines, '^ 
 as they are called in that country, which are usually 
 communicated in dreams, are often absurd enough. 
 Some Indians will strike the butt of the pipe against the 
 ground every time they smoke; others will insist that 
 everything they say shall be interpreted by contraries; 
 and Shaw once met an old man who conceived that all 
 would be lost unless he compelled every white man he met 
 to drink a bowl of cold water. My host was particularly 
 fortunate in his allotment. The Great Spirit had told 
 him in a dream that he must sing a certain song in the 
 middle of every night; and regularly at about twelve 
 o'clock his dismal monotonous chanting vv^ould awaken 
 me, and I would see him seated bolt upright on his couch, 
 going through his dolorous performance with a most 
 business-like air. There were other voices of the night, 
 still more inharmonious. Twice or thrice, between sunset 
 and dawn, all the dogs in the village, and there were hun- 
 dreds of them, would bay and yelp in chorus; a most 
 horrible clamor, resembling no sound that I have ever 
 heard, except perhaps the frightful howling of wolves 
 that we used sometimes to hear, long afterward, when 
 descending the Arkansas on the trail of General Kearney's 
 army. The canine uproar is, if possible, more discordant 
 than that of the wolves. Heard at a distance, slowly 
 rising on the night, it has a strange unearthly effect, and 
 would fearfully haunt the dreams of a nervous man; but 
 when you are sleeping in the midst of it, the din is outra- 
 geous. One long loud howl from the next lodge perhaps 
 begins it, and voice after voice takes up the sound, till it 
 passes around the whole circumference of the village, and 
 
208 THE OREGON TRAIL 
 
 the air is filled with confused and discordant cries, at once 
 fierce and mournful. It lasts but for a moment, and then 
 dies away into silence. 
 
 Morning came, and Kongra-Tonga, mounting his 
 horse, rode out with the hunters. It may not be amiss 
 to glance at him for an instant in his domestic character 
 of husband and father. Both he and his squaw, like most 
 other Indians, were very fond of their children, whom 
 they indulged to excess, and never punished, except in 
 extreme cases, when they would throw a bowl of cold 
 w^ater over them. Their offspring became sufficiently 
 undutiful and disobedient under this system of educa- 
 tion, which tends not a little to foster that wild idea of 
 liberty, and utter intolerance of restraint which lie at 
 the very foundation of the Indian character. It would 
 be hard to find a fonder father than Kongra-Tonga. 
 There was one urchin in particular, rather less than two 
 feet high, to whom he was exceedingly attached; and 
 sometimes spreading a buffalo-robe in the lodge, he would 
 seat himself upon it, place his small favorite upright 
 before him, and chant in a low tone some of the words 
 used as an accom.paniment to the war-dance. The little 
 fellow, who could just manage to balance himself by 
 stretching out both arms, would lift his feet and turn 
 slowly round and round in time to his father's music, 
 while my host would laugh with delight, and look smiling 
 up into my face to see if I were admiring this precocious 
 performance of his offspring. In his capacity of husband 
 he was somewhat less exemplary. The squaw who lived 
 in the lodge with him had been his partner for many 
 years. She took good care of his children and his house- 
 hold concerns. He liked her well enough and, as far as I 
 could see, they never quarrelled; but all his warmer 
 affections were reserved for younger and more recent 
 favorites. Of these he had at present only one, who lived 
 in a lodge apart from his own. One day ^'hile in his 
 camp, he became displeased with her, pushed her out, 
 threw after her her ornaments, dresses, and everything 
 she had, and told her to go home to her father. Having 
 consummated this summary divorce, for which he could 
 show good reasons, he came back, seated himself in his 
 
THE HUNTING CAMP 209 
 
 usual place, and began to smoke with an air of the ut- 
 most tranquillity and self-satisfaction. 
 
 I was sitting in the lodge with him on that very after- 
 noon, when I felt some curiosity to learn the history of 
 the numerous scars that appeared on his naked body. 
 Of some of them, however, I did not venture to inquire, 
 for I already understood their origin. Each of his arms 
 was marked as if deeply gashed with a knife at regular 
 intervals, and there were other scars also, of a different 
 character, on his back and on either breast. They were 
 the traces of those formidable tortures which these In- 
 dians, in common with a few other tribes, inflict upon 
 themselves at certain seasons; in part, it may be, to gain 
 the glory of courage and endurance, but chiefly as an 
 act of self-sacrifice to secure the favor of the Great Spirit. 
 The scars upon the breast and back were produced by 
 running through the flesh strong splints of wood, to 
 which ponderous buffalo skulls are fastened by cords of 
 hide, and the wretch runs forward with all his strength, 
 assisted by two companions, who take hold of each arm, 
 until the flesh tears apart and the heavy loads are left 
 behind. Others of Kongra-Tonga's scars were the result 
 of accidents; but he had many which he received in war. 
 He was one of the most noted warriors in the village. 
 In the course of his life he had slain, as he boasted to me, 
 fourteen men; and though, like other Indians, he was a 
 great braggart and utterly regardless of truth, yet in 
 this statement common report bore him out. Being 
 much flattered by my inquiries, he told me tale after tale, 
 true or false, of his warlike exploits; and there was one 
 among the rest illustrating the worst features of the In- 
 dian character too well for me to omit it. Pointing out 
 of the opening of the lodge toward the Medicine-Bow 
 Mountains, not many miles distant, he said that he was 
 there a few summers ago with a war-party of his young 
 men. Here they found two Snake Indians hunting. 
 They shot one of them with arrows, and chased the other 
 up the side of the mountain till they surrounded him on 
 a level place, and Kongra-Tonga himself jumping for- 
 ward among the trees, seized him by the arm. Two of 
 his young men then ran up and held him fast while he 
 
210 THE OREGON TRAIL 
 
 scalped him alive. They then built a great fire, and cut- 
 ting the tendons of their captive's wrists and feet, threw 
 him in, and held him down with long poles until he was 
 burnt to death. He garnished his story with a great 
 many descriptive particulars much too revolting to men- 
 tion. His features were remarkably mild and open, 
 v/ithout the fierceness of expression common among 
 these Indians; and as he detailed these devilish cruelties, 
 he looked up into my face with the same air of earnest 
 simplicity which a little child would wear in relating to 
 its mother some anecdote of its youthful experience. 
 
 Old Mene-Seela's lodge could offer another illustration 
 of the ferocity of Indian warfare. A bright-eyed active 
 little boy was living there. He had belonged to a village 
 of the Gros-Ventre Blackfeet, a small but bloody and 
 treacherous band, in close alliance with the Arapahoes. 
 About a year before, Kongra-Tonga and a party of war- 
 riors had found about twenty lodges of these Indians 
 upon the plains a little to the eastward of our present 
 camp; and surrounding them in the night, they butchered 
 men, women, and children without mercy, preserving only 
 this little bo}^ alive. He was adopted into the old man's 
 family, and was now fast becoming identified with the 
 Ogillallah children, among whom he mingled on equal 
 terms. There was also a Crow warrior in the village, a 
 man of gigantic stature and most symmetrical propor- 
 tions. Having been taken prisoner many years before 
 and adopted by a squaw in place of a son whom she had 
 lost, he had forgotten his old national antipathies, and 
 was now both in act and inclination an Ogillallah. 
 
 It will be remembered that the scheme of the grand 
 warlike combination against the Snake and Crow Indians 
 originated in this village; and though this plan had fallen 
 to the ground, the embers of the martial ardor continued 
 to glow brightly. Eleven young men had prepared them- 
 selves to go out against the enem}^ The fourth day of 
 our stay in this camp was fixed upon for their departure. 
 At the head of this party was a well-built, active little 
 Indian, called the White Shield, Avhom I had always 
 noticed for the great neatness of his dress and appearance. 
 His lodge too, though not a large one, was the best in the 
 
THE HUNTING CAMP 211 
 
 village ; his squaw was one of the prettiest giiis, and alto- 
 gether his dwelling presented a complete model of an 
 Ogillallah domestic establishment. I was often a visitor 
 there, for the White Shield being rather partial to white 
 men, used to invite me to continual feasts at all hours of 
 the day. Once when the substantial part of the enter- 
 tainment was concluded, and he and I were seated cross- 
 legged on a buffalo-robe, smoking together very amicably, 
 he took down his warlike equipments, which were hanging 
 around the lodge, and displayed them with great pride 
 and self-importance. Among the rest was a most superb 
 head-dress of feathers. Taking this from its case, he put 
 it on and stood before me, as if conscious of the gallant 
 air which it gave to his dark face and his vigorous grace- 
 ful figure. He told me that upon it were the feathers of 
 three war-eagles, equal in value to the same number of 
 good horses. He took up also a shield gayly painted and 
 hung with feathers. The effect of these barbaric orna- 
 ments was admirable, for they were arranged with no little 
 skill and taste. His quiver was made of the spotted skin 
 of a small panther, such as are common among the Black 
 Hills, from which the tail and distended claws were still 
 allowed to hang. The White Shield concluded his enter- 
 tainment in a manner characteristic of an Indian. He 
 begged of me a little powder and ball, for he had a gun 
 as well as bow and arrows; but this I was obliged to re- 
 fuse, because I had scarcely enough for my own use. 
 Making him, however, a parting present of a paper of 
 vermilion, I left him apparently quite contented. 
 
 Unhappily, on the next morning the White Shield 
 took cold, and was attacked with a violent inflammation 
 of the throat. Immediately he seemed to lose all spirit, 
 and though before no warrior in the village had borne 
 himself more proudly, he now moped about from lodge 
 to lodge with a forlorn and dejected air. At length he 
 came and sat down, closely wrapped in his robe, before 
 the lodge of Reynal, but when he found that neither 
 he nor I knew how to relieve him, he arose and stalked 
 over to one of the medicine-men of the village. This old 
 impostor thumped him for some time with both fists, 
 howled and yelped over him, and beat a drum close to 
 
212 THE OREGON TRAIL 
 
 his ear to expel the evil spirit that had taken possession 
 of him. This vigorous treatment faiUng of the desired 
 effect, the White Shield withdrew to his own lodge, where 
 he lay disconsolate for some hours. Making his appear- 
 ance once more in the afternoon, he again took his seat 
 on the ground before Reynal's lodge, holding his throat 
 with his hand. For some time he sat perfectly silent 
 with his eyes fixed mournfully on the ground. At last 
 he began to speak in a low tone: 
 
 "I am a brave man,^' he said; "all the young men 
 think me a great warrior, and ten of them are ready to 
 go with me to the war. I will go and show them the 
 enemy. Last summer the Snakes killed my brother. 
 I cannot live unless I revenge his death. To-morrow we 
 will set out and I will take their scalps." 
 
 The White Shield, as he expressed this resolution, 
 seemed to have lost all the accustomed fire and spirit 
 of his look, and hung his head as if in a fit of despondency. 
 
 As I was sitting that evening at one of the fires, I saw 
 him arrayed in his splendid war-dress, his cheeks painted 
 with vermilion, leading his favorite war-horse to the 
 front of his lodge. He mounted and rode around the 
 village, singing his war-song in a loud hoarse voice amid 
 the shrill acclamations of the women. Then dismounting, 
 he remained for some minutes prostrate upon the ground, 
 as if in an act of supplication. On the following morning 
 I looked in vain for the departure of the warriors. All 
 \vas quiet in the village until late in the forenoon, when 
 the White Shield issuing from his lodge, came and seated 
 himself in his old place before us. Reynal asked him 
 why he had not gone out to find the enemy. 
 
 '' I cannot go," answered the White Shield in a dejected 
 voice. "I have given my war-arrows to the Meneaska." 
 
 "You have only given him two of your arrows," said 
 Reynal. "If you ask him, he will give them back again." 
 
 For some time the White Shield said nothing. At last 
 he spoke in a gloomy tone : 
 
 "One of my young men has had bad dreams. The 
 spirits of the dead came and threw stones at him in his 
 sleep." 
 
 If such a dream had actually -taken place it might 
 
THE HUNTING CAMP 213 
 
 have broken up this or any other war-party, but both 
 Reynal and I were convinced at the time that it was a 
 mere fabrication to excuse his remaining at home. 
 
 The White Shield was a warrior of noted prowess. 
 Very probably he would have received a mortal wound 
 without the show of pain, and endured without flinching 
 the worst tortures that an enemy could inflict upon him. 
 The whole power of an Indian's nature would be sum- 
 moned to encounter such a trial; every influence of his 
 education from childhood would have prepared him for 
 it; the cause of his suffering would have been visibly and 
 palpably before him, and his spirit would rise to set his 
 enemy at defiance, and gain the highest glory of a war- 
 rior by meeting death with fortitude. But when he feels 
 himself attacked by a mysterious- evil, before whose in- 
 sidious assaults his manhood is wasted, and his strength 
 drained away, when he can see no enemy to resist and 
 defy, the boldest warrior fahs prostrate at once. He be- 
 lieves that a bad spirit has taken possession of him, or 
 that he is the victim of some charm. When suffering 
 from a protracted disorder an Indian will often abandon 
 himself to his supposed destiny, pine away and dis, the 
 victim of his own imagination. The same effect will often 
 follow from a series of calamities, or a long run of ill suc- 
 cess, and the sufferer has been known to ride into the 
 midst of an enemy's camp, or attack a grizzly bear single- 
 handed, to get rid of a life which he supposed to lie under 
 the doom of misfortune. 
 
 Thus after all his fasting, dreaming, and calling upon 
 the Great Spirit, the White Shield's war-party was piti- 
 fully broken up. 
 
214 THE OREGON TRAIL 
 
 CHAPTER XVI 
 
 THE TRAPPERS 
 
 Ours the wild life, in tumult still to range, 
 
 From toil to rest, and joy in every change; n. 
 
 The exulting sense, the pulse's maddening play, 
 That thrills the wanderer of the trackless way; 
 That for itself can woo the approaching fight, 
 And turn what some deem danger to dehght: 
 
 Come when it will we snatch the life of life; 
 When lost, what recks it by disease or strife?" 
 
 The Corsair. 
 
 In speaking of the Indians, I have almost forgotten 
 two bold adventurers -of another race, the trappers Rou- 
 leau and Saraphin. These men were bent on a most haz- 
 ardous enterprise. A day's journey to the westward was 
 the country over which the Arapahoes are accustomed to 
 range, and for which the two trappers were on the point 
 of setting out. These Arapahoes, of whom Shaw and I 
 afterward fell in with a large village, are ferocious bar- 
 barians, of a most brutal and wolfish aspect; and of late 
 they had declared themselves enemies to the whites, and 
 threatened death to the first who should venture within 
 their territory. The occasion of the declaration was as 
 follows : 
 
 In the previous spring, 1845, Col. Kearney left Fort 
 Leavenworth with several companies of dragoons, and 
 marching with extraordinary celerity, reached Fort Lara- 
 mie, whence he passed along the foot of the mountains to 
 Bent's Fort, and then, turning eastward again, returned 
 to the point from whence he set out. While at Fort 
 Laramie he sent a part of his command as far westward 
 as Sweetwater, while he himself remained at the fort, 
 and dispatched messages to the surrounding Indians to 
 meet him there in council. Then for the first time the 
 tribes of that vicinity saw the white warriors, and, as 
 might have been expected, they were lost in astonish- 
 ment at their regular order, their gay attire, the complete- 
 ness of their martial equipment, and the great size and 
 power of their horses. Among the rest, the Arapahoes 
 
THE TRAPPERS 215 
 
 came in considerable numbers to the fort. They had 
 lately committed numerous acts of outrage, and Col. 
 Kearney threatened that if they killed any more white 
 men he would turn loose his dragoons upon them, and 
 annihilate their whole nation. In the evening, to add 
 effe'ct to his speech, he ordered a howitzer to be fired and 
 a rocket to be throw^n up. Many of the Arapahoes fell 
 prostrate on the ground, while others ran away scream- 
 ing with amazement and terror. On the following day 
 they withdrew to their mountains, confounded with awe 
 at the appearance of the dragoons, at their big gun which 
 went off twice at one shot, and the fiery messenger which 
 they had sent up to the Great Spirit. For many months 
 they remained quiet, and did no farther mischief. At 
 length, just before wx came into the country, one of them, 
 by an act of the basest treachery, killed two white men, 
 Boot and May, who were trapping among the mountains. 
 For this act it was impossible to discover a motive. It 
 seemed to spring from one of those inexplicable impulses 
 which often actuate Indians, and appear no better than 
 the mere outbreaks of native ferocity. No sooner was 
 the murder committed than the wiole tribe were in 
 extreme consternation. They expected every day that 
 the avenging dragoons woulcl arrive, little thinking that 
 a desert of nine hundred miles in extent lay between the 
 latter and their mountain fastnesses. A large deputation 
 of them came to Fort Laramie, bringing a valuable pres- 
 ent of horses, in compensation for the lives of the mur- 
 dered men. These Bordeaux refused to accept. They 
 then asked him if he would be satisfied with their deliver- 
 ing up the murderer himself; but he declined this offer 
 also. The Arapahoes went back more terrified than ever. 
 Weeks passed away, and still no dragoons appeared. A 
 result followed which all those best acquainted with 
 Indians had predicted. They conceived that fear had 
 prevented Bordeaux from accepting their gifts, and that 
 they had nothing to apprehend from the vengeance of 
 the whites. ^ From terror they rose to the height of insol- 
 ence and presumption. They called the white men cow- 
 ards and old women; and a friendly Dahcotah came to 
 Fort Laramie and reported that they were determined 
 
216 THE OREGON TRAIL 
 
 to kill the first of the white dogs whom they could lay 
 hands on. 
 
 Had a military officer, intrusted with suitable powers, 
 been stationed at Fort Laramie, and had he accepted 
 the offer of the Arapahoes to deliver up the murderer, 
 and ordered him to be immediately led out and shot, 
 in presence of his tribe, they would have been awed into 
 tranquillity, and much danger and calamity averted; 
 but now the neighborhood of the Medicine-Bow Moun- 
 tain and the region beyond it was a scene of extreme peril. 
 Old Mene-Seela, a true friend of the whites, and many 
 other of the Indians, gathered about the two trappers, 
 and vainly endeavored to turn them from their purpose; 
 but Rouleau and Saraphin only laughed at the danger. 
 On the morning preceding that on which they were to 
 leave the camp, we could all discern faint white columns 
 of smoke rising against the dark base of the Medicine 
 Bow. Scouts were out immediately, and reported that 
 these proceeded from an Arapahoe camp, abandoned 
 only a few hours before. Still the two trappers continued 
 their preparations for departure. 
 
 Saraphin was a tall, powerful fellow, with a sullen and 
 sinister countenance. His rifle had very probably drawn 
 other blood than that of buffalo or even Indians. Rou- 
 leau had a broad, ruddy face, marked with as few traces 
 of thought or of care as a child's. His figure was remark- 
 ably square and strong, but the first joints of both his 
 feet were frozen off, and his horse had lately thrown and 
 trampled upon him, by which he had been severely in- 
 jured in the chest. But nothing could check his invet- 
 erate propensity for laughter and gayet^^ He went all 
 day rolling about the camp on his stumps of feet, talking 
 and singing and frolicking with the Indian women as 
 they were engaged at their work. In fact. Rouleau had 
 an unlucky partiality for squaws. He always had one, 
 whom he must needs bedizen with beads, ribbons, and all 
 the finery of an Indian wardrobe; and though he was, of 
 course, obliged to leave her behind him during his expedi- 
 tions, yet this hazardous necessity did not at all trouble 
 him, for his disposition was the very reverse of jealous. 
 If at any time he had not lavished the whole of the pre- 
 
THE TRAPPERS 217 
 
 carious profits of his vocation upon his dark favorite, he 
 always devoted the rest to feasting his comrades. If 
 hquor was not to be had — and this was usually the case — 
 strong coffee would be substituted. As the men of that 
 region are by no means remarkable for providence or 
 self-restraint, whatever was set before them on these 
 occasions, however extravagant in price or enormous in 
 quantity, was sure to be disposed of at one sitting. Like 
 other trappers'. Rouleau's life was one of contrast and 
 variety. It was only at certain seasons, and for a limited 
 time, that he was absent on his expeditions. For the 
 rest of the year he would be lounging about the fort, or 
 encamped with his friends in its vicinity, lazily hunting 
 or enjoying all the luxury of inaction; but when once in 
 pursuit of the beaver, he was involved in extreme priva- 
 tions and desperate perils. When in the midst of his 
 game and his enemies, hand and foot, eye and ear, are 
 incessantly active. Frequentty he must content himself 
 with devouring his evening meal uncooked, lest the light 
 of his fire should attract the eyes of some wandering In- 
 dian ; and sometimes having made his rude repast, he must 
 leave his fire still blazing, and withdraw to a distance 
 under cover of the darkness, that his disappointed enemy, 
 drawn thither by the light, ma}^ find his victim gone, 
 and be unable to trace his footsteps in the gloom. This 
 is the life led by scores of men in the Rocky Mountains 
 and their vicinity. I once met a trapper whose breast 
 was marked with the scars of six bullets and arrows, one 
 of his arms broken by a shot, and one of his knees shat- 
 tered; yet still, with the undaunted mettle of New Eng- 
 land, from which part of the country he had come, he 
 continued to follow his perilous occupation. To some of 
 the children of cities it may seem strange that men with 
 no object in view should continue to follow a life of such 
 hardship and desperate adventure, yet there is a myste- 
 rious, resistless charm in the basilisk eye of danger, and 
 few men perhaps remain long in that wild region without 
 learning to love peril for its own sake, and to laugh care- 
 lessly in the face of death. 
 
 On the last day of our stay in this camp the trappers 
 were ready for departure. When in the Black Hills they 
 
218 THE OREGON TRAIL 
 
 had caught seven beaver, and they now left their skins 
 in charge of Reynal, to be kept until their return. Their 
 strong, gaunt horses were equipped with rusty Spanish 
 bits and rude Mexican saddles, to which w^ooden stirrups 
 were attached, while a buffalo-robe was rolled up behind 
 them, and a bundle of beaver traps slung at the pommel. 
 These, together with their rifles, their knives, their powder- 
 horns and bullet-pouches, flint and steel, and a tin cup, 
 composed their whole travelhng equipment. They shook 
 hands with us and rode away; Saraphin, with his grim 
 countenance, like a surly bull-dog's, was in advance; but 
 Rouleau, clambering gayly into his seat, kicked his horse's 
 sides, flourished his whip in the air, and trotted briskly 
 over the prairie, trolling forth a Canadian song at the top 
 of his lungs. Reynal looked after them with his face of 
 bi-utal selfishness. 
 
 ''Wefl," he said, "if they are killed, I shall have the 
 beaver. They'll fetch me fiftv dollars at the fort, any- 
 how." 
 
 This was the last I saw of them. 
 
 We had been for five days in the hunting camp, and 
 the meat, which all this tim.e had hung drying in the sun, 
 was now fit for transportation. Buffalo-hides also had 
 been procured in sufficient quantities for making the 
 next season's lodges; but it remained to provide the long 
 slender poles on which they were to be supported. These 
 were only to be had among the tall pine woods of the 
 Black Hills, and in that direction, therefore, our next 
 move was to be made. It is worthy of notice that amid 
 the general abundance which during this time had pre- 
 vailed in the camp, there were no instances of individual 
 privation; for although the hide and the tongue of the 
 buffalo belong by exclusive right to the hunter who has 
 killed it, yet anyone else is equally entitled to help him- 
 self from the rest of the carcass. Thus the weak, the 
 aged, and even the indolent come in for a share of the 
 spoils, and many a helpless old woman, who would other- 
 wise perish from starvation, is sustained in profuse 
 abundance. ij 
 
 On the twenty-fifth of July, late in the afternoon, the 
 camp broke up, with the usual tumult and confusion, 
 
THE TRAPPERS 219 
 
 and we were all moving once more, on horseback and on 
 foot, over the plains. We advanced, however, but a 
 few miles. The old men, who during the whole march 
 had been stoutly striding along on foot in front of the 
 people, now seated themselves in a circle on the ground, 
 while all the families erecting their lodges in the pre- 
 scribed order around them, formed the usual great circle 
 of the camp; meanwhile these village patriarchs sat smok- 
 ing and talking. I threw my bridle to Raymond, and sat 
 down as usual along with them. There was none of that 
 reserve and apparent dignity which an Indian always as- 
 sumes when in council, or in the presence of white men 
 whom he distrusts. The party, on the contrary, was an 
 extremely merry one, and as in a social circle of a quite 
 different character, " if there was not much wit, there was 
 at least a great deal of laughter.'^ 
 
 When the first pipe was smoked out, I rose and with- 
 drew to the lodge of my host. Here I was stooping, in 
 the act of taking off my powder-horn and bullet-pouch, 
 w^hen suddenly, and close at hand, pealing loud and 
 shrill, and in right good earnest, came the terrific yell of 
 the war-whoop. Kongra-Tonga's squaw snatched up her 
 youngest child, and ran out of the lodge. I followed, and 
 found the whole village in confusion, resounding with 
 cries and yells. The circle of old men in the centre had 
 vanished. The warriors with glittering eyes came dart- 
 ing, their weapons in their hands, out of the low openings 
 of the lodges, and running with wild yells toward the 
 farther end of the village. Advancing a few rods in that 
 direction, I saw a crowd in furious agitation, while others 
 ran up on every side to add to the confusion. Just then I 
 distinguished the voices of Raymond and Reynal, shout- 
 ing to me from a distance, and looking back, I saw the 
 latter with his rifle in his hand, standing on the farther 
 bank of a little stream that ran along the outskirts of the 
 camp. He was calling to Raymond and myself to come 
 over and join him, and Raymond, with his usual deliberate 
 gait and stolid countenance, was already moving in that 
 direction. ^ 
 
 This was clearly the wisest course, unless we wished 
 to involve ourselves in the fray; so I turned to gO; but 
 
220 THE OREGON TRAIL 
 
 just then a pair of eyes, gleaming like a snake's, and an 
 aged familiar countenance was thrust from the opening 
 of a neighboring lodge, and out bolted old Mene-Seela, 
 full of fight, clutching his bow and arrows in one hand 
 and his knife in the other. At that instant he tripped and 
 fell sprawling on his face, while his weapons flew scatter- 
 ing away in every direction. The women, with loud 
 screams, were hurrying with their children in their arms 
 to place them out of danger, and I observed some hasten- 
 ing to prevent mischief by carrying away all the weapons 
 they could lay hands on. On a rising ground close to the 
 camp stood a line of old women singing a medicine-song to 
 allay the tumult. As I approached the side of the brook, 
 I heard gun-shots behind me, and turning back, I saw 
 that the crowd had separated into two long lines of naked 
 warriors confronting each other at a respectful distance, 
 and yelling and jumping about to dodge the shot of 
 their adversaries, while they discharged bullets and arrows ' 
 against each other. At the same time certain sharp, hum- 
 ming sounds in the air over my head, like the flight of 
 beetles on a summer evening, warned me that the clanger 
 was not wholly confined to the immediate scene of the fray. 
 So, wading through the brook, I joined Reynal and Ray- 
 mond, and we sat down on the grass, in the posture of an 
 armed neutrality, to watch the result. 
 
 Happily it may be for ourselves, though quite contrary 
 to our expectation, the disturbance was quelled almost 
 as soon as it had commenced. When I looked again, 
 the combatants were once more mingled together in a 
 mass. Though yehs sounded occasionally from the throng, 
 the firing had entirely ceased, and I observed five or six 
 persons moving busily about, as if acting the part of 
 peacemakers. One of the village heralds or criers pro- 
 claimed in a loud voice something which my two compan- 
 ions were too much engrossed in their own observations 
 to translate for me. The crowd began to disperse, though 
 many a deep-set black eye still glittered with an unnatural 
 lustre, as the warriors slowly withdrew to their lodges. 
 This fortunate suppression of the disturbance was owing 
 to a few of the old men, less pugnacious than Mene-Seela, 
 who boldly ran in between the combatants, and, aided 
 
THE TRAPPERS 221 
 
 by some of the "soldiers/^ or Indian police, succeeded 
 in effecting their object. 
 
 It seemed very strange to me that although many 
 arrows and bullets were discharged, no one was mortally 
 hurt, and I could only account for this by the fact that 
 both the marksman and the object of his aim were leap- 
 ing about incessantly during the whole time. By far the 
 greater part of the villagers had joined in the fray, for 
 although there were not more than a dozen guns in the 
 whole camp, I heard at least eight or ten shots fired. 
 
 In a quarter of an hour all was comparatively quiet. 
 A large circle of warriors was again seated in the centre 
 of the village, but this time I did not venture to join 
 them, because I could see that the pipe, contrary to the 
 usual order, was passing from the left hand to the right 
 around the circle; a sure sign that a "medicine-smoke" 
 of reconciliation was going forward, and that a white 
 man would be an unwelcome intruder. When I again 
 entered the still agitated camp it was nearly dark, and 
 mournful cries, howls, and wailings resounded from many 
 female voices. Whether these had any connection with 
 the late disturbance, or were merely lamentations for 
 relatives slain in some former war expeditions, I could 
 not distinctly ascertain. 
 
 To inquire too closely into the cause of the quarrel 
 was by no means prudent, and it was not until some 
 time after that I discovered what had given rise to it. 
 Among the Dahcotah there are many associations, or 
 fraternities, connected with the purposes of their super- 
 stitions, their warfare, or their social life. There was one 
 called ''The Arrow-Breakers,'' now in a great measure 
 disbanded and dispersed. In the village there were, 
 however, four men belonging to it, distinguished by the 
 peculiar arrangement of their hair, which rose in a high 
 bristling mass above their foreheads, adding greatly to 
 their apparent height, and giving them a most ferocious 
 appearance. The principal among them was the Mad 
 Wolf, a warrior of remarkable size and strength, great 
 courage, and the fierceness of a demon. I had always 
 looked upon him as the most dangerous man in the vil- 
 lage; and though he often invited me to feasts, I never 
 
222 THE OREGON TRAIL 
 
 entered his lodge unarmed. The Mad Wolf had taken a 
 fancy to a fine horse belonging to another Indian, who 
 was called the Tall Bear; and anxious to get the animal 
 into his possession, he made the owner a present of another 
 horse nearly equal in value. According to the customs 
 of the Dahcotah, the acceptance of this gift involved a 
 sort of obligation to make an equitable return; and the 
 Tall Bear well understood that the other had in view the 
 obtaining of his favorite buffalo-horse. He, however, 
 accepted the present without a Avord of thanks, and hav- 
 ing picketed the horse before his lodge, he suffered day 
 after day to pass without making the expected return. 
 The Mad Wolf grew impatient and angry; and at last, 
 seeing that his bounty was not likely to produce the 
 desired return, he resolved to reclaim it. So this evening, 
 as soon as the village was encamped, he Avent to the lodge 
 of the Tall Bear, seized upon the horse that he had given 
 him, and lead him away. At this the Tall Bear broke 
 into one of those fits of sullen rage not uncommon among 
 the Indians. He ran up to the unfortunate horse, and 
 gave him three mortal stabs Avith his knife. Quick as 
 lightning the Mad Wolf clreAv his boAv to its utmost ten- 
 sion, and held the arrow quivering close to the breast of 
 his adversary. The Tall Bear, as the Indians Avho Avere 
 near him said, stood Avith his bloody knife in his hand, 
 facing the assailant Avith the utmost calmness. Some of 
 his friends and relatives, seeing his danger, ran hastily 
 to his assistance. The remaining three ArroAV-Breakers, 
 on the other hand, came to the aid of their associate. 
 Many of their friends joined them, the Avar-cry Avas raised 
 on a sudden, and the tumult became general. 
 
 The ''soldiers," Avho lent their timely aid in putting it 
 doAvn, are by far the most important executive function- 
 aries in an Indian Adllage. The office is one of considerable 
 honor, being confided only to men of courage and repute. 
 They derive their authority from the old men and chief 
 Avarriors of the village, AA^ho elect them in councils occa- 
 sionally convened for the purpose, and thus can exercise 
 a degree of authority Av^hich no one else in the village 
 Avould dare to assume. While very feAv Ogillallah chiefs 
 ■could venture without instant jeopardy of their lives to 
 
THE BLACK HILLS 223 
 
 strike or lay hands upon the meanest of their people, the 
 "soldiers/' in the discharge of their appropriate func- 
 tions, have full license to make use of these and similar 
 acts of coercion. 
 
 CHAPTER XVII 
 
 THE BLACK HILLS 
 
 "To sit on rocks, to muse o'er flood and fell, 
 To slowly trace the forest's shady scene, 
 Where things that own not man's dominion dwell, 
 And mortal foot hath ne'er, or rarely been; 
 To chmb the trackless mountain all unseen, 
 With the wild flock that never needs a fold; 
 Alone o'er steeps and foaming falls to lean; 
 This is not sohtude; 'tis but to hold 
 
 Converse with Nature's charms, and view" her stores unrolled." 
 
 Childe Harold. 
 
 We travelled eastward for two days, and then the 
 gloomy ridges of the Black Hills rose up before us. The 
 village passed along for some miles beneath their declivi- 
 ties, traihng out to a great length over the arid prairie, 
 or winding at times among small detached hills of dis- 
 torted shapes. Turning sharply to the left, we entered a 
 wide defile of the mountains, down the bottom of which 
 a brook came Avinding, lined with tall grass and dense 
 copses, amid which were hidden many beaver-clams and 
 lodges. We passed along between two lines of high prec- 
 ipices and rocks, piled in utter disorder one upon an- 
 other, and with scarcely a tree, a bush, or a clump of 
 grass to veil their nakedness. The restless Indian boys 
 were wandering along their edges and clambering up and 
 down their rugged sides, and sometimes a group of them 
 would stand on the verge of a cliff and look down on the 
 array as it passed in review beneath them. As we ad- 
 vanced, the passage grew more narrow; then it suddenly 
 expanded into a round grassy meadow, completely en- 
 compassed by mountains; and here the families stopped 
 as tho}^ came up in turn, and the camp rose like ma,a:ic. 
 
 The lodges were hardly erect?d Avhen, with their usual 
 
224 THE OREGON TRAIL 
 
 precipitation, the Indians set about accomplishing the 
 object that had brought them there; that is, the obtain- 
 ing poles for supporting their new lodges. Half the popu- 
 lation, men, women, and boys, mounted their horses and 
 set out for the interior of the mountains. As they rode 
 at full gallop over the shingly rocks and into the dark 
 opening of the defile beyond, I thought I had never read 
 or dreamed of a more strange or picturesque cavalcade. 
 We iDassed between precipices more than a thousand feet 
 high, sharp and splintering at the tops, their sides beetling 
 over the defile or descending in abrupt declivities, bris- 
 tling with black fir trees. On our left they rose close to us 
 like a wall, but on the right a winding brook w^th a nar- 
 row strip of marshy soil intervened. The stream was 
 clogged with eld beaver-dams and spread frequently 
 into wide pools. There were thick bushes and many 
 dead and blasted troes along its course, though frequently 
 nothing remained but stumps cut close to the ground by 
 the beaver, and marked with the sharp chisel-like teeth 
 of those indefatigable laborers. Sometimes we were 
 diving among trees, and then emerging upon open spots, 
 over which, Indian-like, all galloped at full speed. As 
 Pauline bounded over the rocks I felt her saddle-girth 
 slipping, and alighted to draw it tighter; when the whole 
 array swept past me in a moment, the women with their 
 gaudy ornaments tinkling as they rode, the men whoop- 
 ing and laughing and lashing forward their horses. Two 
 black-tailed deer bounded away among the rocks; Ray- 
 mond shot at them from horseback; the sharp report of 
 his rifle was answered by another equally sharp from the 
 opposing cliffs, and then the echoes, leaping in rapid 
 succession from side to side, died away, rattling far amid 
 the mountains. 
 
 After having ridden in this manner for six or ei^'ht 
 miles, the appearance of the scene began to change, and 
 all the decHvities around us were covered with forests of 
 tall, slender pine trees. The Indians began to fall off 
 to the right and left, and dispersed with their hatchets 
 and knives among these woods, to cut the poles which 
 they had come to seek. Soon I was left almost alone; 
 but in the deep stillness of those lonely mountains the 
 
THE BLACK HILLS 225 
 
 stroke of hatchets and the sound of voices might be heard 
 from far and near. 
 
 Reynal, who imitated the Indians in their habits as 
 well as the worst features of their character, had killed 
 buffalo enough to make a lodge for himself and his squaw, 
 and now he was eager to get the poles necessary to com- 
 plete it. He asked me to let Raymond go with him and 
 assist in the work. I assented, and the two men imme- 
 diately entered the thickest part of the wood. Having 
 left my horse in Raymond's keeping, I began to climb 
 the mountain. I was weak and weary, and made slow 
 progress, often pausing to rest, but after an hour had 
 elapsed, I gained a height, whence the little valley out 
 of which I had climbed seemed like a deep, dark gulf, 
 though the inaccessible peak of the mountain was still 
 towering to a much greater distance above. Objects 
 familiar from childhood surrounded me: crags and rocks, 
 a black and sullen brook that gurgled with a hollow voice 
 deep among the crevices, a w^ood of mossy, distorted 
 trees and prostrate trunks flung down by age and storms, 
 scattered among the rocks or damming the foaming 
 waters of the little brook. The objects were the same, 
 yet they were thrown into a wilder and more startling 
 scene, for the black crags and the savage trees assumed 
 a grim and threatening aspect, and close across the valley 
 the opposing mountain confronted me, rising from the 
 gulf for thousands of feet, with its bare pinnacles and its 
 ragged covering of pines. Yet the scene was not without 
 its milder features. As I ascended, I found frequent 
 little grassy terraces, and there was one of these close at 
 hand, across which the brook was stealing, beneath the 
 shade of scattered trees that seemed artificially planted. 
 Here I made a welcome discovery, no other than a bed 
 of strawberries, with their white flowers and their red 
 fruit, close nestled among the grass by the side of the 
 brook, and I sat down by them, hailing them as old ac- 
 quaintances; for among those lonely and perilous moun- 
 tains, they awakened delicious associations of the gardens 
 and peaceful homes of far-distant New England. 
 
 Yet, wild as they were, these mountains were thickly 
 peopled. As I climbed farther, I found the broad dusty 
 
226 THE OREGON TRAIL 
 
 paths made by the elk, as the}^ filed across the mountain 
 side. The grass on all the terraces was trampled down 
 by deer; there were numerous tracks of wolves, and in 
 some of the rougher and more precipitous parts of the 
 ascent, I found foot-prints different from any that I had 
 ever seen, and which I took to be those of the Rocky 
 Mountain sheep. I sat down upon a rock; there w^as a 
 perfect stillness. No wind was stirring, and not even an 
 insect could be heard. I recollected the danger of be- 
 coming lost in such a place, and therefore I fixed m^y eye 
 upon one of the tallest pinnacles of the opposite moun- 
 tain. It rose sheer upright from the woods below, and 
 by an extraordinary freak of nature, sustained aloft on 
 its very summit a large loose rock. Such a landmark 
 could never be mistaken, and feeling once .more secure, 
 I began again to move forward. A white wolf jumped 
 up from among some bushes, and leaped clumsily away; 
 but he stopped for a m^oment, and turned back his keen 
 eye and his grim bristling muzzle. I longed to take his 
 scalp and carry it back with me, as an appropriate trophy 
 of the Black Hills, but before I could fire, he was gone 
 among the rocks. Soon after I heard a rustling sound, 
 with a cracking of twigs at a little distance, and saw 
 moving above the tall bushes the branching antlers of 
 an elk. I was in the midst of a hunter's paradise. 
 
 Such are the Black Hills as I found them in July; but 
 they wear a different garb when winter sets in, when the 
 broad boughs of the fir tree are bent to the ground by 
 the load of snow, and the dark mountains are whitened 
 with it. At that season the mountain-trappers, returned 
 from their autumn expeditions, often brtild their rude 
 cabins in the midst of these solitudes, and live in abun- 
 dance and luxury on the game that harbors there. I have 
 heard them relate how, with their tawny mistresses, and 
 perhaps a few young Indian companions, they have 
 spent months in total seclusion. They would dig pit- 
 falls, and set traps for the white wolves, the sables, and 
 the martens, and though through the whole night the 
 awful chorus of the wolves would resound from the 
 frozen mountains around them, yet within their massive 
 walls of logs they would lie in careless ease and comfort 
 
A MOUNTAIN HUNT 227 
 
 before the blazing fire, and in the morning shoot the elk 
 and the deer from their very door. 
 
 CHAPTER XVIII 
 
 A MOUNTAIN HUNT 
 
 "Come, shall we go and kill us venison? 
 And yet it irks me, the poor dappled fools, 
 Being native burghers of this desert city, 
 Should in their own confines, with forked heads, 
 Have their round haunches gored." 
 
 As You Like It, 
 
 The camp was full of the newly-cut lodge-poles; some, 
 already prepared, were stacked together, white and 
 glistening, to dry and harden in the sun; others were 
 lying on the ground, and the squaws, the boys, and even 
 some of the warriors, were busily at work peeling off the 
 bark and paring them with their knives to the proper 
 dimensions. Most of the hides obtained at the last camp 
 were dressed and scraped thin enough for use, and many 
 of the squaws were engaged in fitting them together and 
 sewing them with sinews, to form the coverings for the 
 lodges. Men were wandering among the bushes that 
 lined the brook along the margin of the camp, cutting 
 sticks of red willow, or shongsasha, the bark of which, 
 mixed with tobacco, they use for smoking. Reynal's 
 squaw was hard at work with her awl and buffalo-sinevfs 
 upon her lodge, Avhile her proprietor, having just finished 
 an enormous breakfast of meat, was smoking a social pipe 
 along with Raymond and myself. He proposed at lengthy 
 that we should go out on a hunt. " Go to the Big Crow's^ 
 lodge," said he, "and get your rifle. I'll bet the gray 
 Wyandot pony against your mare that we start an elk 
 or a black-tailed deer, or likely as not, a big-horn, before 
 we are two miles out of camp. I'll take my squaw's old 
 yellow horse; you can't whip her more than four miles 
 an hour, but she is as good for the mountains as a mule." 
 
 I mounted the black mule which Raymond usually 
 rode. She was a very fine and powerful animal, gentle 
 
228 THE OREGON TRAIL 
 
 and manageable enough by nature ; but of late her temper 
 had been soured by misfortune. About a week before 
 I had chanced to offend some one of the Indians, who, out 
 of revenge, went secretly into the meadow and gave her 
 a severe stab in the haunch with his knife. The wound, 
 though partially healed, still galled her extremely, and 
 made her even more perverse and obstinate than the rest 
 of her species. 
 
 The morning was a glorious one, and I was in better 
 health than I had been at any time for the last two 
 months. Though a strong frame and well-compacted 
 sinews had borne me through hitherto, it was long since 
 I had been in a condition to feel the exhilaration of the 
 fresh mountain-wind and the gay sunshine that bright- 
 ened the crags and trees. We left the little valley and 
 ascended a rocky hollow in the mountain. Very soon 
 we were out of sight of the camp, and of every living 
 thing, man, beast, bird, or insect. I had never before, 
 except on foot, passed over such execrable ground, and 
 I desire never to repeat the experiment. The black mule 
 grew indignant, and even the redoubtable yellow horse 
 stumbled every moment, and kept groaning to himself 
 as he cut his feet and legs among the sharp rocks. 
 
 It was a scene of silence and desolation. Little was 
 visible except beetling crags and the bare shingly sides 
 of the mountains, relieved by scarcely a trace of vegeta- 
 tion. At length, however, we came upon a forest tract, 
 and had no sooner done so than we heartily wished our- 
 selves back among the rocks again; for we were on a 
 steep descent, among trees so thick that we could see 
 scarcely a rod in any direction. 
 
 If one is anxious to place himself in a situation where 
 the hazardous and the ludicrous are combined in about 
 equal proportions, let him get upon a vicious mule, with 
 a snaffle-bit, and try to drive her through the woods 
 down a slope of forty-five degrees. Let him have a long 
 rifle, a buckskin frock with long fringes, and a head of 
 long hair. These latter appendages will be caught every 
 moment and twitched away in small portions by the 
 twigs, which will also whip him smartly across the face, 
 while the large branches above thump him on the head. 
 
A MOUNTAIN HUNT 229 
 
 His mule, if she be a true one, will alternately stop short 
 and dive violently forward, and his positions upon her 
 back will be somewhat diversified and extraordinary. 
 At one time he will clasp her affectionately, to avoid the 
 blow of a bough overhead; at another, he will throw 
 himself back and fling his knee forward against the side 
 of her neck, to keep it from being crushed between the 
 rough bark of a tree and the equally unyielding ribs of 
 the animal herself. Reynal was cursing incessantly dur- 
 ing the whole way down. Neither of us had the remotest 
 idea where we were going; and though I have seen rough 
 riding, I shall always retain an evil recollection of that 
 five minutes' scramble. 
 
 At last we left our troubles behind us, emerging into 
 the channel of a brook that circled along the foot of the 
 descent; and here, turning joyfully to the left, we rode 
 in luxury and ease over the white pebbles and the rip- 
 pling water, shaded from the glaring sun by an overarch- 
 ing green transparency. These halcyon moments were 
 of short duration. The friendly brook, turning sharply 
 to one side, went brawling and foaming down the rocky 
 hill into an abyss, which, as far as we could discern, had 
 no bottom; so once more we betook ourselves to the 
 detested woods. When next we came forth from their 
 dancing shadow and sunlight, we found ourselves stand- 
 ing in the broad glare of day, on a high jutting point of 
 the mountain. Before us stretched a long, wide, desert 
 valley, winding away far amid the mountains. No civi- 
 lized eye but mine had ever looked upon that virgin 
 waste. Reynal was gazing intently; he began to speak 
 at last: 
 
 " Many a time, when I was with the Indians, I have 
 been hunting for gold all through the Black Hills. There's 
 plenty of it here; you may be certain of that. I have 
 dreamed about it fifty times, and I never dreamed yet 
 but what it came out true. Look over yonder at those 
 black rocks piled up against that other big rock. Don't 
 it look as if there might be something there? It won't 
 do for a white man to be rummaging too much about 
 these mountains; the Indians say they are full of bad 
 spirits; and I believe myself that it's no good luck to be 
 
230 THE OREGON TRAIL 
 
 hunting about here after gold. Well, for all that, I would 
 like to have one of these fellows up here from down below, 
 to go about with his witch-hazel rod, and I'll guarantee 
 that it would not be long before he would light on a gold- 
 mine. Never mind; we'll let the gold alone for to-day. 
 Look at those trees down below us in the holloAv; we'll 
 go down there, and I reckon we'll get a black-tailed deer." 
 
 But Reynal's predictions were not verified. We passed 
 mountain after mountain, and valley after valley; we 
 explored deep ravines; yet still, to my companion's 
 vexation and evident surprise, no game could be found. 
 So, in the absence of better, we resolved to go out on the 
 plains and look for an antelope. With this view we began 
 to pass down a narrow valle}', the bottom of which Avas 
 covered with the stiff wild-sage bushes, and marked with 
 deep paths made by the buffalo, who, for some inexplic- 
 able reason, are accustomed to penetrate, in their long 
 grave processions, deep among the gorges of these sterile 
 mountains. 
 
 Reynal's eye was ranging incessantly among the rocks 
 and along the edges of the black precipices, in hopes of dis- 
 covering the mountain-sheep peering down upon us in fan- 
 cied security from that giddy elevation. Nothing was visi- 
 ble for some time. At length we both detected something 
 in motion near the foot of one of the mountains, and in a 
 moment afterward a black-tailed deer, with his spreading 
 antlers, stood gazing at us from the top of a rock, and then, 
 slowly turning away, disappeared behind it. In an instant 
 Reynal was out of his saddle, and running toward the spot. 
 I, being too v/eak to follow, sat holding his horse and wait- 
 ing the result. I lost sight of him, then heard the report 
 of his rifle deadened among the rocks, and finally saw 
 him reappear, with a surly look, that plainly betrayed his 
 ill success. Again we moved forward down the long valley, 
 when soon after we came full upon what seemed a wide 
 and very shallow ditch, incrusted at the bottom with 
 white clay, dried and cracked in the sun. Under this 
 fair outside, Reynal's eye detected the signs of lurking 
 mischief. He called me to stop, and then alighting, picked 
 up a stone and threw.it into the ditch. To my utter 
 amazement it fell with a dull splash, breaking at once 
 
I 
 
 A MOUNTAIN HUNT 231 
 
 through the thin crust, and spattering round the hole a 
 yellowish creamy fluid, into which it sank and disap- 
 peared. A stick, five or six feet long, lay on the ground, 
 and with this we sounded the insidious abyss close to its 
 edge. It was just possible to touch the bottom. Places 
 like this are numerous among the Rocky Mountains. The 
 buffalo, in his blind and heedless walk, often plunges into 
 them unawares. Dov/n he sin'ks; one snort of terror, one 
 convulsive struggle, and the slime calmkr flows above 
 his shaggy head, the languid undulations of its sleek and 
 placid surface alone betraying how the powerful monster 
 writhes in his death-throes below. 
 
 We found, after some trouble, a point where we could 
 pass the abyss, and now the valley began to open upon 
 the plains which spread to the horizon before us. On 
 one of their distant swells we discerned three or four black 
 specks, which Reynal pronounced to be buffalo. 
 
 ^^Come," said he, "we must get one of them. My 
 squaw wants more sinews to finish her lodge with, ancl I 
 w^ant some glue myself." 
 
 He immediately put the yellow horse to such a gallop 
 as he was capable of executing, while I set spurs to the 
 mule, who soon far outrun her plebeian rival. When we 
 had galloped a mile or more a large rabbit, by ill luck, 
 sprang up just under the feet of the mule, who bounded 
 violently aside in full career. Weakened as I was I was 
 flung forcibly to the ground, and my rifle falling close to 
 my head, went off with the shock. Its sharp, spiteful 
 report rang for some moments in my ear. 'Being slightly 
 stunned, I lay for an instant motionless, and Reynal, 
 supposing me to be shot, rode up and began to curse the 
 mule. Soon recovering myself, I arose, picked up the 
 rifle, and anxiously examined it. It was badly injured. 
 The stock was cracked and the main screw broken, so 
 that the lock had to be tied in its place with a string; 
 yet, happily, it was not rendered totally unserviceable. 
 I wiped it out, reloaded it, and handing it to Reynal, w^ho 
 meanwhfle had caught the m.ule and led her up to me, I 
 mounted again. No sooner had I clone so, than the brute 
 began to rear and plunge with extreme violence; but 
 being now well prepared for her, and free from incum- 
 
232 THE OREGON TRAIL 
 
 brance, I soon reduced her to submission. Then taking 
 the rifle again from Reynal, we galloped forward as be- 
 fore. 
 
 We were now free of the mountains and riding far out 
 on the broad prairie. The buffalo were still some two 
 miles in advance of us. When we came near them we 
 stopped where a gentle swell of the plain concealed us 
 from their view, and while I held his horse Reynal ran 
 forward with his rifle, till I lost sight of him beyond the 
 rising ground. A few minutes elapsed: I heard the report 
 of his piece, and saw the buffalo running away at full 
 speed on the right, and immediately after, the hunter 
 himself, unsuccessful as before, came up and mounted 
 his horse in excessive ill humor. He cursed the Black 
 Hills and the buffalo, swore that he was a good hunter, 
 which, indeed, was true, and that he had never been out 
 before among those mountains without killing two or 
 three deer at least. 
 
 We now turned toward 'the distant encampment. As 
 we rode along, antelope in considerable numbers were 
 flying lightly in all directions over the plains, but not one 
 of them would stand and be shot at. When he reached 
 the foot of the mountain-ridge that lay between us and 
 the village, we were too impatient to take the smooth 
 and circuitous route ; so turning short to the left, we drove 
 our wearied animals directly upward among the rocks. 
 Still more antelope were leaping about among these 
 flinty hfll-sides. Each of us shot at one, though from a 
 great distance, and each missed his mark. At length we 
 reached the summit of the last ridge. Looking down, we 
 saw the bustling camp in the valley at our feet, and 
 ingloriously descended to it. As we rode among the 
 lodges, the Indians looked in vain for the fresh meat that 
 should have hung behind our 'saddles, and the squaws 
 uttered various suppressed ejaculations, to the great 
 indignation of Reynal. Our mortification was increased 
 when we rode up to his lodge. Here we saw his young 
 Indian relative, the Hail-Storm, his light graceful figure 
 reclining on the ground in an easy attitude, while with 
 his friend, the Rabbit, who sat by his side, he was making 
 an abundant meal from a wooden bowl of wasna, which 
 
A MOUNTAIN HUNT 233 
 
 the squaw had placed between them. Near him lay the 
 fresh skin of a female elk, which he had just killed among 
 the mountains, only a mile or two from the camp. No 
 doubt the boy's heart was elated with triumph, but he 
 betrayed no sign of it. He even seemed totally uncon- 
 scious of our approach, and his handsome face had all the 
 tranquillity of Indian self-control; a self-control which 
 prevents the exhibition of emotion without restraining 
 the emotion itself. It was about two months since I had 
 known the Hail-Storm, and within that time his charac- 
 ter had remarkably developed. When I first saw him he 
 was just emerging from the habits and feelings of the 
 boy into the ambition of the hunter and warrior. He 
 had lately killed his first deer, and this had excited his as- 
 pirations after distinction. Since that time he had been 
 continually in search of game, and no young hunter in 
 the village had been so active or so fortunate as he. It 
 will perhaps be remembered how fearlessly he attacked 
 the buffalo-bull as we were moving toward our camp at 
 the Medicine-Bow Mountain. All this success had pro- 
 duced a marked change in his character. As I first 
 remembered him he always shunned the society of the 
 young squaws, and was extremely bashful and sheepish 
 in their presence; but now, in the confidence of his own 
 reputation, he began to assume the airs and the arts of a 
 man of gallantry. He wore his red blanket dashingly 
 over his left shoulder, painted his cheeks every day with 
 vermilion, and liung pendants of shells in his ears. If 
 I observed aright, he met with very good success in his 
 new pursuits; still the Hail-Storm had much to accom- 
 plish before he attained the full standing of a warrior. 
 Gallantly as he began to bear himself among the women 
 and girls, he still was timid and abashed in the presence 
 of the chiefs and old men; for he had never yet killed a 
 man or stricken the dead body of an enemy in battle. 
 I have no doubt that the handsome smooth-faced boy 
 burned with a keen desire to flesh his maiden scalping- 
 knife, and I would not have encamped alone with him 
 without watching his movements with a distrustful eye. 
 
 His elder brother, the Horse, was of a different charac- 
 ter. He was nothing but a lazy dandy. He knew very 
 
234 THE OREGON TRAIL 
 
 well how to hunt, but preferred to live by the hunting of 
 others. He had no appetite for distinction, and the 
 Hail-Storm, though a few years younger than he, already 
 surpassed him in reputation. He had a dark and ugly 
 face, and he passed a great part of his time in adorning it 
 with vermilion, and contemplating it by means of a little 
 pocket looking-glass which I gave him. As for the rest 
 of the day, he divided it between eating and sleeping, and 
 sitting in the sun on the outside of a lodge. Here he 
 would remain for hour after hour, arrayed in all his finery, 
 with an old dragoon's sword in his hand, and evidently 
 flattering himself that he w^as the centre of attraction to 
 the eyes of the surrounding squaws. Yet he sat looking 
 straight forward with a face of the utmost gravity, as if 
 wrapped in profound meditation, and it was only by the 
 occasional sidelong glances which he shot at his supposed 
 admirers that one could detect the true course of his 
 thoughts. 
 
 Both he and his brother may represent a class in the In- 
 dian community; neither should the Hail-Storm's friend, 
 the Rabbit, be passed by without notice. The Hail- 
 Storm and he vv'ere inseparable; they ate, slept, and hunted 
 together, and shared with one another almost all that 
 they possessed. If there be anything that deserves to be 
 called romantic in the Indian character, it is to be sought 
 for in friendships such as this, which are quite common 
 among many of the prairie-tribes. 
 
 Slowly, hour after hour, that weary afternoon dragged 
 away. I la}' in Reynal's lodge, overcome by the listless 
 torpor that pervaded the wdiole encampment. The day's 
 work was finished, or if it were not, the inhabitants 
 had resolved not to finish it at all, and all were dozing 
 quietly within the shelter of the lodges. A profound 
 letharg}^, the very spirit of indolence, seemed to have 
 sunk upon the village. Now and then I could hear the 
 low laughter of some girl from within a neighboring lodge, 
 or the small shrill voices of a few restless children, who 
 alone were moving in the deserted area. The spirit of 
 the place infected me; I could not even think consecu- 
 tively; I was fit only for musing and reverie, when^ at 
 last, like the rest, I fell asleep. 
 
A MOUNTAIN HUNT 235 
 
 When evening came, and the fires were Hghted round 
 the lodges, a select family circle convened in the neighbor- 
 hood of Reynal's domicile. It was composed entirely 
 of his squaw's relatives, a mean and ignoble clan, among 
 whom none but the Hail-Storm held forth any promise 
 of future distinction. Even his prospects were rendered 
 not a little dubious by the character of the family, less, 
 however, from any principle of aristocratic distinction 
 than from the want of poAverful supporters to assist 
 him in his undertakings, and help to avenge his quarrels. 
 Raymond and I sat down along with them. There were 
 eight or ten men gathered around the fire, together with 
 about as many women, old and young, some of whom 
 were tolerably good-looking. As the pipe passed around 
 among the men a lively conversation went forward, 
 more merry than delicate, and at length two or three of 
 the elder women (for the girls were somewhat diffident 
 and bashful) began to assail Raymond with various 
 pungent witticisms. Some of the men took part, and an 
 old squaw concluded by bestowing on him a ludicrous 
 nickname, at which a general laugh followed at his ex- 
 pense. Raymond grinned and giggled, and made several 
 futile attempts at repartee. Knowing the impolicy and 
 even danger of suffering myself to be placed in a lu- 
 dicrous light among the Indians, I maintained a rigid in- 
 flexible countenance, and wholly escaped their sallies. 
 
 In the morning I found, to my great disgust, that 
 the camp was to retain its position for another day. I 
 dreaded its languor and monoton}^, and to escape it I 
 set out to explore the surrounding mountains. I was 
 accompanied by a faithful friend, my rifle, the only 
 friend, indeed, on whose prompt assistance in time of 
 trouble I could implicitly rely. Most of the Indians in 
 the village, it is true, professed good will toward the 
 whites, but the experience of others and my own obser- 
 vation had taught me the extreme folly of confidence, 
 and the utter impossibility of foreseeing to what sudden 
 acts the strange unbridled impulses of an Indian may urge 
 him. When among this people danger is never so near 
 as when you are unprepared for it, never so remote as 
 when you are armed and on the alert to meet it at any 
 
236 THE OREGON TRAIL 
 
 moment. Nothing offers so strong a temptation to their 
 ferocious instincts as the appearance of timidity, weak- 
 ness, or insecurity. 
 
 Many deep and gloomy gorges, choked with trees and 
 bushes, opened from the sides of the hills, which were 
 shaggy with forests wherever the rocks permitted vegeta- 
 tion to spring. A great number of Indians were stalking 
 along the edges of the woods, and boys were whooping 
 and laughing on the mountain-sides, practising eye and 
 hand, and indulging their destructive propensities by 
 following birds and small animals and killing them with 
 their little bows and arrows. There was one glen stretch- 
 ing up between steep chffs far into the bosom of the moun- 
 tain. I began to ascend along its bottom, pushing my 
 way onward among the rocks, trees, and bushes that 
 obstructed it. A slender thread of water trickled along 
 its centre, which since issuing from the heart of its native 
 rock could scarcely have been warmed or gladdened by 
 a ray of sunshine. After advancing for some time, I 
 conceived myself to be entirely alone; but coming to a 
 part of the glen in a great measure free of trees and under- 
 growth, I saw at some distance the black head and red 
 shoulders of an Indian among the bushes above. The 
 reader need not prepare himself for a startling adventure, 
 for I have none to relate. The head and shoulders be- 
 longed to Mene-Seela, my best friend in the village. As 
 I had approached noiselessly with my moccasined feet, 
 the old man was quite unconscious of my presence; and 
 turning to a point where I could gain an unobstructed 
 view of him, I saw him seated alone, immovable as a 
 statue, among the rocks and trees. His face was turned 
 upward, and his eyes seemed riveted on a pine tree spring- 
 ing from a cleft in the precipice above. The crest of the 
 pine was swaying to and fro in the wind, and its long 
 limbs waved slowly up and down, as if the tree had life. 
 Looking for a while at the old man, I was satisfied that 
 he was engaged in an act of worship, or prayer, or com- 
 munion of some kind with a supernatural being. I longed 
 to penetrate his thoughts, but I could do nothing more 
 than conjecture and speculate. I knew that though the 
 intellect of an Indian can embrace the idea of an all- 
 
A MOUNTAIN HUNT 237 
 
 wise, all-powerful Spirit, the Supreme Ruler of the uni- 
 verse, yet his mind will not always ascend into commu- 
 nion with a being that seems to him so vast, remote, and 
 incomprehensible; and when danger threatens, when his 
 hopes are broken, when the black wing of sorrow over- 
 shadows him, he is prone to turn for relief to some infe- 
 rior agency, less removed from the ordinary scope of his 
 faculties. He has a guardian spirit, on whom he relies 
 for succor and guidance. To him all nature is instinct 
 with mystic influence. Among those mountains not a 
 wild beast was prowling, a bird singing, or a leaf flutter- 
 ing, that might not tend to direct his destiny or give 
 warning of w^hat was in store for him; and he watches 
 the world of nature around him as the astrologer watches 
 the stars. So closely is he linked with it that his guardian 
 spirit, no unsubstantial creation of the fancy, is usually 
 embodied in the form of some living thing: a bear, a 
 w^olf, an eagle, or a serpent; and Mene-Seela, as he gazed 
 intently on the old pine tree, might believe it to inshrine 
 the fancied guide and protector of his life. 
 
 Whatever was passing in the mind of the old man, it 
 was no part of sense or of delicacy to disturb him. Si- 
 lently retracing my footsteps, I descended the glen until 
 I came to a point where I could climb the steep precipices 
 that shut it in, and gain the side of the mountain. Look- 
 ing up, I saw a tall peak rising among the woods. Some- 
 thing impelled me to climb; I had not felt for many a 
 day such strength and elasticity of limb. An hour and 
 a half of slow and often intermitted labor brought me 
 to the very summit ; and emerging from the dark shadows 
 of xhe rocks and pines, I stepped forth into the light, 
 and vvalking along the sunny verge of a precipice, seated 
 myself on its extreme point. Looking between the 
 mountain-peaks to the westward, the pale blue prairie 
 was stretching to the farthest horizon, like a serene and 
 tranquil ocean. The surrounding mountains were in 
 themselves sufficiently striking and impressive, but this 
 contrast gave redoubled effect to their stern features. • 
 
238 THE OREGON TRAIL 
 
 CHAPTER XIX 
 
 PASSAGE OF THE MOUNTAINS 
 
 "Dear Nature is the kindest mother still, 
 Though always changing, in her aspect mild; 
 From her bare bosom let me take my fill. 
 Her never-weaned, though not her favored child. 
 O, she is fairest in her features wild, 
 When nothing polished dares pollute her path; 
 On me by day and night she ever smiled, 
 Though I have marked her where none other hath, 
 And sought her more and more, and loved her best in wrath." 
 
 Childe Harold. 
 
 When I took leave of Shaw at La Bonte's camp I 
 promised that I would meet him at Fort Laramie on the 
 first of August. That day, according to my reckoning, 
 was now close at hand. It was impossible, at best, to 
 fulfil my engagement exactly, and my meeting with him 
 must have been postponed until many days after the 
 appointed time had not the plans of the Indians very 
 well coincided with my own. They, too, intended to 
 pass the mountains and move toward the fort. To do so 
 at this point was impossible, because there was no open- 
 ing; and in order to find a passage we were obliged to go 
 twelve or fourteen miles southward. Late in the after- 
 noon the camp got in motion, defiling back through the 
 mountains along the same narrow passage by which they 
 had entered. I rode in company with three or four young 
 Indians at the rear, and the moving sw^arm stretched 
 before me, in the ruddy light of sunset, or in the deep 
 shadow of the mountains, far beyond my sight. It was 
 an ill-omened spot they chose to encamp upon. When 
 they were there just a year before, a war-party of ten 
 men, led by the Whirlwind's son, had gone out against 
 the enemy, and not one had ever returned. This was 
 the immediate cause of this season's warlike preparations. 
 I was not a little astonished when I came to the camp 
 at the confusion of horrible sounds with which it was 
 filled; howls, shrieks, and wailings were heard from all 
 the women present, many of whom^ not content with 
 
PASSAGE OF THE MOUNTAINS 239 
 
 this exhibition of grief for the loss of their friends and 
 rehitives, were gashing their legs deeply with knives. 
 A warrior in the village, who had lost a brother in the 
 expedition, chose another mode of displajdng his sorrow. 
 The Indians, who though often rapacious, are utterly 
 devoid of avarice, are accustomed in times of mourning, 
 or on other solemn occasions, to give away the whole of 
 their possessions, and reduce themselves to nakedness 
 and want. The warrior in question led his two best 
 horses into the centre of the village and gave them away 
 to his friends; upon which, songs and acclamations in 
 praise of his generosity mingled with the cries of the 
 women. 
 
 On the next morning we entered once more among 
 the mountains. There was nothing in their appearance 
 either grand or picturesque, though they were desolate 
 to the last degree, being mere piles of black and broken 
 rocks; without trees or vegetation of any kind. As we 
 passed among them along a wide valley, I noticed Ray- 
 mond riding by the side of a young squaw, to whom he 
 was addressing various insinuating compliments. All 
 the old squaws in the neighborhood watched his proceed- 
 ings in great admiration, and the girl herself would turn 
 aside her head and laugh. Just then the old mule thought 
 proper to display her vicious pranks; she began to rear 
 and plunge most furiously. Raymond was an excellent 
 rider, and at first he stuck fast in his seat ; but the moment 
 after I saw the mule's hind-legs flourishing in the air, and 
 my unlucky follower pitching head-foremost over her 
 ears. There was a burst of screams and laughter from all 
 the women, in which his mistress herself took part, and 
 Raymond was instantly assailed by such a shower of wit- 
 ticisms that he was glad to ride forward out of hearing. 
 
 Not long after, as I rode near him, I heard him shout- 
 ing to me. He was pointing toward a detached rocky 
 hill that stood in the middle of the valley before us, and 
 from behind it a long file of elk came out at full speed and 
 entered an opening in the side of the mountain. They 
 had scarcely disappeared when whoops and exclama- 
 tions came from fifty voices around me. The young men 
 leaped from their horses, flung down their heavy buffalo- 
 
240 THE OREGON TRAIL 
 
 robeS; and ran at full speed toward the foot of the nearest 
 mountain. Reynal also broke away at a gallop in the 
 same direction, ''Come on! come on!" he called to us. 
 " Do you see that band of big-horn up yonder? If there's 
 one of them, there's a hundred ! " 
 
 In fact, near the summit of the mountain, I could see 
 a large number of small white objects, moving rapidly 
 upward among the precipices, while others were filing 
 along its rocky profile. Anxious to see the sport, I gal- 
 loped forward, and entering a passage in the side of the 
 mountain, ascended among the loose rocks as far as my 
 horse could carry me. Here I fastened her to an old pine 
 tree that stood alone, scorching in the sun. At that mo- 
 ment Raymond called to me from the right that another 
 band of sheep was close at hand in that direction. I ran 
 up to the top of the opening, which gave me a full view 
 into the rocky gorge beyond; and here I plainly saw 
 some fifty or sixty sheep, almost within rifle-shot, clatter- 
 ing upward among the rocks, and endeavoring, after their 
 usual custom, to reach the highest point. The naked 
 Indians bounded up lightly in pursuit. In a moment 
 the game and hunters disappeared. Nothing could be 
 seen or heard but the occasional report of a gun, more 
 and more distant, reverberating among the rocks. 
 
 I turned to descend, and as I did so I could see the 
 valley below alive with Indians passing rapidly through 
 it, on horseback and on foot. A little farther on, all were 
 stopping as they came up; the camp was preparing, and 
 the lodges rising. I descended to this spot, and soon 
 after Reynal and Raymond returned. They bore be- 
 tween them a sheep which they had pelted to death with 
 stones from the edge of a ravine, along the bottom of 
 which it was attempting to escape. One by one the 
 hunters came dropping in; yet such is the activity of the 
 Rocky Mountain sheep, that although sixty or seventy 
 men were out in pursuit, not more than half a dozen 
 animals were killed. Of these only one was a full grown 
 male. He had a pair of horns twisted like a ram's, the 
 dimensions of which were almost beyond belief. I have 
 seen among the Indians ladles with long handles, capable 
 of containing more than a quart, cut out from such horns. 
 
PASSAGE OF THE MOUNTAINS 241 
 
 There is something peculiarly interesting in the charac- 
 ter and habits of the mountain-sheep, whose chosen re- 
 treats are above the region of vegetation and of storms, 
 and who leap among the giddy precipices of their aerial 
 home as actively as the antelope skims over the prairies 
 below. 
 
 Through the whole of the next morning we were mov- 
 ing forward among the hills. On the following day the 
 heights gathered around us, and the passage of the moun- 
 tains began in earnest. Before the village left its camping- 
 ground, I set forward in company with the Eagle-Feather, 
 a man of powerful frame, but of bad and sinister face. 
 His son, a light-limbed boy, rode with us, and another 
 Indian, named the Panther, was also of the party. Leav- 
 ing the village out of sight behind us, we rode together 
 up a rocky defile. After a while, however, the Eagle- 
 Feather discovered in the distance some appearance of 
 game, and set off with his son in pursuit of it, while I 
 went forward with the Panther. This was a mere nom 
 de guerre; for, like many Indians, he concealed his real 
 name out of some superstitious notion. He was a very 
 noble looking fellow. As he suffered his ornamental 
 buffalo-robe to fall in folds about his loins, his stately 
 and graceful figure w^as fully displayed; and while he sat 
 his horse in an easy attitude, the long feathers of the 
 prairie-cock fluttering from the crown of his head, he 
 seemed the very model of a wild prairie-ricler. He had 
 not the same features with those of other Indians. Unless 
 his handsome face greatly belied him, he was free from 
 the jealousy, suspicion, and malignant cunning of his 
 people. For the most part, a civilized white man can 
 discover but very few points of sympathy between his 
 own nature and that of an Indian. With every disposi- 
 tion to do justice to their good qualities, he must be con- 
 scious that an impassable gulf lies between him and his 
 red brethren of the prairie. Nay, so alien to himself do 
 they appear, that having breathed for a few months or a 
 few weeks the air of this region, he begins to look upon 
 them as a troublesome and dangerous species of wild 
 beast, and if expedient, he could shoot them with as 
 little compunction as they themselves would experience 
 
242 THE OREGON TRAIL 
 
 after performing the same office upon him. Yet, in the 
 countenance of the Panther, I gladly read that there 
 were at least some points of sympathy between him and 
 me. We were excellent friends, and as we rode forward 
 together through rocky passages, deep dells, and little 
 barren plains, he occupied himself very zealously in 
 teaching me the Dahcotah language. After a while we 
 came to a little grassy recess, where some gooseberry- 
 bushes were growing at the foot of a rock: and these 
 offered such temptation to my companion, that he gave 
 over his instruction, and stopped so long to gather the 
 fruit that before we were in motion again the van of the 
 village came in view. An old woman appeared, leading 
 down her pack-horse among the rocks above. Savage 
 after savage followed, and the little dell was soon crowded 
 with the throng. 
 
 That morning's march was one not easity to be for- 
 gotten. It led us through a sublime waste, a wilderness 
 of mountains and pine forests, over which the spirit of 
 loneliness and silence seemed brooding. Above and below 
 little could be seen but the same dark green foliage. It 
 overspread the valleys, and the mountains were clothed 
 with it, from the black rocks that crowned their summits 
 to the impetuous streams that circled round their base. 
 Scenery like this, it might seem, could have no very cheer- 
 ing effect on the mind of a sick man (for to-day my disease 
 had again assailed me) in the midst of a horde of sav- 
 ages; but if the reader has ever wandered, with a true 
 hunter's spirit, among the forests of Maine, or the more 
 picturesque solitudes of the Adirondack Mountains, he 
 will understand how the sombre woods and mountains 
 around me might have awakened any other feelings than 
 those of gloom. In truth, they recalled gladdening 
 recollections of similar scenes in a distant and far differ- 
 ent land. 
 
 After we had been advancing for several hours, through 
 passages always narrow, often obstructed and difficult, 
 r saw at a little distance on our right a narrow opening 
 between two high, wooded precipices. All within seemed 
 darkness and mystery. In the mood in which I found 
 myself, something strongly impelled me to enter. Pass- 
 
PASSAGE OF THE MOUNTAINS 243 
 
 ing over the intervening space, I guided my horse through 
 the rocky portal, and as I did so, instinctively drew the 
 covering from my rifle, half expecting that some un- 
 known evil lay in ambush within those dreary recesses. 
 The place was shut in among tall cliffs, and so deeply 
 shadowed by a host of old pine trees, that though the 
 sun shone bright on the side of the mountain, nothing 
 but a dim twilight could penetrate within. As far as I 
 could see it had no tenants except a few hawks and owls, 
 who, dismayed at my intrusion, flapped hoarsely away 
 among the shaggy branches. I moved forward, deter- 
 mined to explore the mystery to the bottom, and soon 
 became involved among the pines. The genius of the 
 place exercised a strange influence upon my mind. Its 
 faculties were stimulated into extraordinary activity, 
 and as I passed along many half-forgotten incidents, and 
 the images of persons and things far distant, rose rapidly 
 before me with surprising distinctness. In that perilous 
 wilderness, eight hundred miles removed beyond the 
 faintest vestige of civilization, the scenes of another hem- 
 isphere, the seat of ancient refinement passed before me, 
 more like a succession of vivid paintings than any mere 
 dreams of the fancy. I saw the church of St. Peter's il- 
 lumined on the evening of Easter-day, the whole majes- 
 tic pile from the cross to the foundation-stone, pencilled 
 in fire, and shedding a radiance, like the serene light of 
 the moon, on the sea of upturned faces below. I saw the 
 peak of Mount Etna towering above its inky mantle of 
 clouds, and lightly curling its wreaths of milk-white 
 smoke against the soft sky, flushed with the Sicilian 
 sunset. I saw also the gloomy vaulted passages and the 
 narrow cells of the Passionist convent, where I once had 
 sojourned for a few days with the fanatical monks, its 
 pale stern inmates, in their robes of black ; and the grated 
 windows from whence I could look out, a forbidden 
 indulgence, upon the melancholy Coliseum and the crum- 
 bling ruins of the Eternal City. The mighty glaciers of the 
 Splugen, too, rose before me, gleaming in the sun like 
 polished silver, and those terrible solitudes, the birth-place 
 of the Rhine, where, bursting from the bowels of its native 
 mountain, it lashes and foams down the rocky abyss into 
 
244 THE OREGON TRAIL 
 
 the little valley of Andeer. These recollections, and 
 many more crowded upon me, until, remembering that 
 it was hardly wise to remain long in such a place, I 
 mounted again and retraced my steps. Issuing from 
 between the rocks, I saw, a few rods before me, the men, 
 women and children, dogs and horses, still filing slowly 
 across the little glen. A bare round hill rose directly 
 above them. I rode to the top, and from this point I 
 could look down on the savage procession as it passed 
 just beneath my feet, and far on the left I could see its 
 thin and broken line, visible only at intervals, stretching 
 away for miles among the mountains. On the farthest 
 ridge horsemen were still descending, like mere specks 
 in the distance. 
 
 I remained on the hill until all had passed, and then, 
 descending, followed after them. A little farther on I 
 found a very small meadow, set deeply among steep moun- 
 tains; and here the whole village had encamped. The 
 little spot was crowded with the confused and disorderly 
 host. Some of the lodges were already completely pre- 
 pared, or the squaws perhaps were busy in drawing the 
 heavy coverings of skin over the bare poles. Others were 
 as yet mere skeletons, while others still, poles, covering, 
 and all, lay scattered in complete disorder on the ground 
 among buffalo-robes, bales of meat, domestic utensils, 
 harness, and weapons. Squaws were screaming to one 
 another, horses rearing and plunging, dogs yelping, eager 
 to be disburdened of their loads, while the fluttering of 
 feathers and the gleam of barbaric ornaments added 
 liveliness to the scene. The small children ran about 
 amid the crowd, while many of the boys were scrambling 
 among the overhanging rocks, and standing, with their 
 little bows in their hands, looking down upon the restless 
 throng. In contrast with the general confusion, a circle 
 of old men and warriors sat in the midst, smoking in 
 profound indifference and tranquillity. The disorder at 
 length subsided. The horses were driven away to feed 
 along the adjacent valley, and the camp assumed an air 
 of listless repose. It was scarcely past noon; a vast white 
 canopy of smoke from a burning forest to the eastward 
 overhung the place, and partially obscured the rays of the 
 
PASSAGE OF THE MOUNTAINS 245 
 
 sun; yet the heat was almost insupportable. The lodges 
 stood crowded together without order in the narrow 
 space. Each was a perfect hot-house, within which the 
 lazy proprietor lay sleeping. The camp was silent as 
 death. Nothing stirred except now and then an old 
 woman passing from lodge to lodge. The girls and young- 
 men sat together in groups, under the pine trees upon the 
 surrounding heights. The dogs lay panting on the ground, 
 too lazy even to growl at the white man. At the entrance 
 of the meadow there was a cold spring among the rocks, 
 completely overshadowed by tall trees and dense under- 
 growth. In this cool and shady retreat a number of the 
 girls were assembled, sitting together on rocks and fallen 
 logs, discussing the latest gossip of the village, or laugh- 
 ing and throwing water with their hands at the intruding 
 Meneaska. The minutes seemed lengthened into hours. 
 I lay for a long time under a tree, studying the Ogillallah 
 tongue, with the zealous instructions of ni}" friend the 
 Panther. When we were both tired of this, I went and 
 lay clown by the side of a deep, clear pool, formed by the 
 water of the spring. A shoal of little fishes of about a 
 pin's length were playing in it, sporting together, as it 
 seemed, very amicably; but on closer observation, I saw 
 that they were engaged in a cannibal warfare among 
 themselves. Now and then a small one would fall a 
 victim, and immediately disappear down the maw of his 
 voracious conqueror. Every moment, however, the 
 tyrant of the pool, a monster about three inches long, 
 with staring goggle-eyes, would slowly issue forth with 
 quivering fins and tail from under the shelving bank. 
 The small frj^ at this would suspend their hostilities, and 
 scatter in a panic at the appearance of overwhelming force. 
 
 "Soft-hearted philanthropists,'' thought I, "may sigh 
 long for their peaceful millennium; for, from minnows 
 up to men, life is an incessant battle." 
 
 Evening approached at last, the tall mountain-tops 
 around were still gay and bright in sunshine, while our 
 deep glen was completely shadowed. I left the camp and 
 descended a neighboring hill, whose rocky summit com- 
 manded a wide view over the surrounding wilderness. 
 The sun was still glaring through the stiff pines on the 
 
246 THE OREGON TRAIL 
 
 ridge of the western mountain. In a moment he was gone, 
 and as the landscape rapidly darkened, I turned again 
 toward the village. As I descended the hill the howhng 
 of wolves and the barking of foxes came up out of the 
 dim woods from far and near. The camp was glowing 
 with a multitude of fires and alive with dusky naked 
 figures, whose tall shadows flitted among the surrounding 
 crags. 
 
 I found a circle of smokers seated in their usual place; 
 that is, on the ground before the lodge of a certain war- 
 rior, who seemed to be generally known for his social 
 qualities. I sat down to smoke a parting pipe with my 
 savage friends. That day was the first of August, on 
 which I had promised to meet Shaw at Fort Laramie. 
 The fort was less than two days' journey distant, and 
 that my friend need not suffer anxiety on my account, I 
 resolved to push forward as rapidly as possible to the 
 place of meeting. I went to look after the Hail-Storm^ 
 and having found him, I offered him a handful of hawks' - 
 bells and a paper of vermilion, on condition that he would 
 guide me in the morning through the mountains within 
 sight of Laramie Creek. 
 
 The Hail-Storm ejaculated ''How!" and accepted 
 the gift. Nothing more was said on either side; the matter 
 was settled, and I lay down to sleep in Kongra-Tonga's , 
 lodge. 
 
 Long before daylight, Raymond shook me by the 
 shoulder : 
 
 " Everything is ready," he said. 
 
 I went out. The morning was chill, damp, and dark; 
 and the whole camp seemed asleep. The Hail-Storm 
 sat on horseback before the lodge, and my mare Pauline 
 and the mule which Ra^^mond rode were picketed near 
 it. We saddled and made our other arrangements for 
 the journey, but before these were completed the camp 
 began to stir, and the lodge-coverings fluttered and 
 rustled as the squaws pulled them down in preparation 
 for departure. Just as the light began to appear we left 
 the ground, passing up through a narrow opening among 
 the rocks which led eastward out of the meadow. Gain- 
 ing the top of this passage, I turned round and sat looking 
 
PASSAGE OF THE MOUNTAINS 247 
 
 back upon the camp, dimly visible in the gray light of 
 the morning. All was alive with the bustle of prepara- 
 tion. I turned away, half unwilling to take a final leave 
 of my savage associates. We turned to the right, passing 
 among rocks and pine trees so dark that for a while we 
 could scarcely see our way. The country in front was 
 wild and broken, half hill, half plain, partly open, and 
 partly covered Avith woods of pine and oak. Barriers of 
 lofty mountains encompassed it; the woods were fresh 
 and cool in the early morning; the peaks of the mountains 
 w^ere wreathed with mist, and sluggish vapors were en- 
 tangled among the forests upon their sides. At length 
 the black pinnacle of the tallest mountain was tipped 
 with gold by the rising sun. About that time the Hail- 
 Storm, who rode in front, gave a low exclamation. Some 
 large animal leaped up from among the bushes, and an 
 elk, as I thought, his horns thrown back over his neck, 
 darted past us across the open space, and bounded like a 
 mad thing away among the adjoining pines. Raymond 
 was soon out of his saddle, but before he could fire, the 
 animal was full two hundred yards distant. The ball 
 struck its mark, though much too low for mortal effect. 
 The elk, however, wheeled in his flight, and ran at full 
 speed among the trees, nearly at right angles to his 
 former course. I fired and broke his shoulder; still he 
 moved on, limping down into a neighboring woody hol- 
 low, w^hither the young Indian followed and killed him. 
 When w^e reached the spot we discovered him to be no 
 elk, but a black-tailed deer, an animal nearly twice the 
 size of the common deer, and quite unknow^n in the East. 
 W^e began to cut him up: the reports of the rifles had 
 reached the ears of the Indians, and before our task was 
 finished several of them came to the spot. Leaving the 
 hide of the deer to the Hail-Storm, we hung as much of 
 the meat as we wanted behind our saddles, left the rest 
 to the Indians, and resumed our journey. Meanwhile 
 the village was on its way, and had gone so far that to 
 get in advance of it was impossible. Therefore we di- 
 rected our course so as to strike its line of march at the 
 nearest point. In a short time, through the dark trunks 
 of the pines, we could see the figures of the Indians as 
 
24S THE OREGON TRAIL 
 
 they passed. Once more we were among them. They 
 were moving with even more than their usual precipita- 
 tion, crowded close together in a narrow pass between 
 rocks and old pine trees. We were on the eastern de- 
 scent of the mountain, and soon came to a rough and 
 difficult defile, leading down a very steep declivity. The 
 whole swarm poured down together, filling the rocky 
 passage-way like some turbulent mountain-stream. The 
 mountains before us were on fire, and had been so for 
 weeks. The view in front was obscured by a vast dim 
 sea of smoke and vapor, while on either hand the tall 
 cliffs, bearing aloft their crest of pines, thrust their heads 
 boldly through it, and the sharp pinnacles and broken 
 ridges of the mountains beyond them were faintly trace- 
 able as through a veil. The scene in itself was most 
 grand and imposing, but with the savage multitude, 
 the armed warriors, the naked children, the gayly ap- 
 parelled girls, pouring impetuously down the heights, 
 it would have formed a noble subject for a painter, and 
 only the pen of a Scott could have done it justice in de- 
 scription. 
 
 We passed over a burnt tract where the ground was 
 hot beneath the horses' feet and between the blazing 
 sides of two mountains. Before long we had descended 
 to a softer region, where we found a succession of little 
 valleys watered by a stream, along the borders of which 
 grew an abundance of wild gooseberries and currants, 
 and the children and many of the men straggled from the 
 line of march to gather them as we passed along. De- 
 scending still farther, the view changed rapidly. The 
 burning mountains were behind us, and through the 
 open valleys in front we could see the ocean-like prairie, 
 stretching beyond the sight. After passing through a 
 line of trees that skirted the brook, the Indians filed out 
 upon the plains. I was thirsty and knelt down by the 
 little stream to drink. As I mounted again, I very care- 
 lessly left my rifle among the grass, • and my thoughts 
 being otherwise absorbed, I rode for some distance be- 
 fore discovering its absence. As the reader may con- 
 ceive, I lost no time in turning about and galloping back 
 in search of it. Passing the line of Indians, I watched 
 
PASSAGE OF THE MOUNTAINS 249 
 
 every warrior as he rode by me at a canter, and at length 
 discovered my rifle in the hands of one of them, who, on 
 my approaching to claim it, immediately gave it up. 
 Having no other means of acknowledging the obligation, 
 I took off one of my spurs and gave it to him. He was 
 greatly delighted, looking upon it as a distinguished 
 mark of favor, and immediately held out his foot for me 
 to buckle it on. As soon as I had done so, he struck it 
 with all his force into the side of his horse, who gave a 
 violent leap. The Indian laughed and spurred harder 
 than before. At this the horse shot away like an arrow, 
 amid the screams and laughter of the squaws, and the 
 ejaculations of the men, who exclaimed: "Washtay! — 
 Good!" at the potent effect of my gift. The Indian had 
 no saddle, and nothing in place of a bridle except a leather 
 string tied round the horse's jaw. The animal was, of 
 course, wholly uncontrollable, and stretched away at full 
 speed over the prairie, till he and his rider vanished be- 
 hind a distant swell. I never saw the man again, but I 
 presume no harm came to him. An Indian on horse-back 
 has more lives than a cat. 
 
 The village encamped on the scorching prairie, close 
 to the foot of the mountains. The heat was most intense 
 and penetrating. The coverings of the lodgings were 
 raised a foot or more from the ground, in order to pro- 
 cure some circulation of air; and Reynal thought proper 
 to lay aside his trapper's dress of buckskin and assume 
 the very scanty costume of an Indian. Thus elegantly 
 attired, he stretched himself in his lodge on a buffalo-robe, 
 alternately cursing the heat and puffing at the pipe which 
 he and I passed between us. There was present also a 
 select circle of Indian friends and relatives. A small 
 boiled pupp3" was served up as a parting feast, to which 
 w^as added, by way of dessert, a w^ooden bowl of goose- 
 berries, from the mountains. 
 
 "Look there," said Reynal, pointing out of the open- 
 ing of his lodge; ''do you see that line of buttes about 
 fifteen miles off? Well, now do you see that farthest 
 one, with the white speck on the face of it? Do you think 
 you ever saw it before? " 
 
 "It looks to* me," said I, "like the hill that we were 
 
250 THE OREGON TRAIL 
 
 camped under when we w^ere on Laramie Creek, six or 
 eight weeks ago." 
 
 "YouVe hit it," answered Reynal. 
 
 "Go, and bring in the animals, Raymond," said I; 
 "we'll camp there to-night, and start for the fort in the 
 morning." 
 
 The mare and the mule were soon before the lodge. 
 We saddled them, and in the meantime a number of In- 
 dians collected about us. The virtues of Pauline, my 
 strong, fleet, and hardy little mare, were well known in 
 camp, and several of the visitors were mounted upon 
 good horses Avhich they had brought me as presents. I 
 promptly declined their offers, since accepting them would 
 have involved the necessity of transferring poor Pauline 
 into their barbarous hands. We took leave of Reynal, 
 but not of the Indians, who are accustomed to dis- 
 pense with such superfluous ceremonies. Leaving the 
 camp, we rode straight over the prairie toward the white- 
 faced bluff, whose pale ridges swelled gently against the 
 horizon, like a cloud. An Indian went with us, whose 
 name I forget, though the ugliness of his face and the 
 ghastly width of his mouth dwell vividly in my recollec- 
 tion. The antelope were numerous, but we did not heed 
 them. We rode directly toward our destination, over the 
 arid plains and barren hills; until, late in the afternoon, 
 half-spent with heat, thirst, and fatigue, we saw a gladden- 
 ing sight: the long line of trees and the deep gulf that 
 mark the course of Laramie Creek. Passing through the 
 growth of huge dilapidated old cotton-wood trees that 
 bordered the creek, we rode across to the other side. 
 The rapid and foaming waters w^re filled with fish playing 
 and splashing in the shallows. As we gained the farther 
 bank, our horses turned eagerly to drink, and we, kneel- 
 ing on the sand, followed their example. We had not 
 gone far before the scene began to grow familiar. 
 
 "We are getting near home, Raymond," said I. 
 
 There stood the big tree under which we had encamped 
 so long; there were the white cliffs that used to look down 
 upon our tent when it stood at the bend of the creek; 
 there was the meadow in which our horses had grazed 
 for weeks, and a little farther on, the prairie-dog village. 
 
PASSAGE OF THE MOUNTAINS 251 
 
 where I had beguiled many a languid hour in persecuting 
 the unfortunate inhabitants. 
 
 "We are going to catch it now/' said Raymond, turn- 
 ing his broad, vacant face up toward the sky.- 
 
 In truth the landscape, the cliffs, and the meadow, 
 the stream and the groves, were darkening fast. Black 
 masses of cloud were swelling up in the south, and the 
 thunder was growling ominously. 
 
 "We will camp there,'' I said, pointing to a dense grove 
 of trees lower down the stream. Raymond and I turned 
 toward it, but the Indian stopped and called earnestly 
 after us. When we demanded what was the matter, he 
 said that the ghosts of two warriors were always among 
 those trees, and that if we slept there they would scream 
 and throw stones at us all night, and perhaps steal our 
 horses before morning. Thinking it as well to humor 
 him, we left behind us the haunt of these extraordinar}^ 
 ghosts, and passed on toward Chugwater, riding .at full 
 gallop, for the big drops began to patter down. Soon we 
 came in sight of the poplar saplings that grew about the 
 mouth of the little stream. We leaped to the ground, 
 threw off our saddles, turned our horses loose, and, 
 drawing our knives, began to slash among the bushes to 
 cut twigs and branches for making a shelter against the 
 rain. Bending down the taller saplings as they grew, 
 we piled the young shoots upon them, and thus made a 
 convenient pent-house; but all our labor was useless. 
 The storm scarcely touched us. Half a mile on our right 
 the rain was pouring down like a cataract, and the thunder 
 roared over the prairie like a battery of cannon; while 
 we, by good fortune, received only a few heavy drops 
 from the skirt of the passing cloud. The weather cleared 
 and the sun set gloriously. Sitting close under our leafy 
 canop}', we proceeded to discuss a substantial meal of 
 wasna which Weah-Washtay had given me. The Indian 
 had brought with him his pipe and a bag of shongsasha; 
 so before lying down to sleep, we sat for some time smok- 
 ing together. Previously, however, our wide-mouthed 
 friend had taken the precaution of carefully examining 
 the neighborhood. He reported that eight men, count- 
 ing them on his fingers, had been encamped there not 
 
252 THE OREGON TRAIL 
 
 long before. Bisonette, Paul Dorion, Antoine Le Rouge^ 
 Richardson, and four others, whose names he could not 
 tell. All this proved strictly correct. By what instinct 
 he had arrived at such accurate conclusions, I am utterly 
 at a loss to divine. 
 
 It was still quite dark when I awoke and called Ray- 
 mond. The Indian was already gone, having chosen to go 
 on before us to the fort. Setting out after him, we rode 
 for some time in complete darkness, and when the sun at 
 length rose, glowing like a fiery ball of copper, we were 
 ten miles distant from the fort. At length, from the 
 broken summit of a tall sandy bluff, we could see Fort 
 Laramie, miles before us, standing by the side of the 
 stream, like a little gray speck, in the midst of the bound- 
 less desolation. I stopped my horse, and sat for a mo- 
 ment looking down upon it. It seemed to me the very 
 centre of comfort and civilization. We were not long in 
 approaching it, for we rode at speed the greater part of 
 the way. Laramie Creek still intervened between us and 
 the friendly walls. Entering the water at the point where 
 we had struck upon the bank, we raised our feet to the 
 saddle behind us, and thus kneeling, as it were, on horse- 
 back, passed dry-shod through the swift current. As we 
 rode up the bank, a number of men appeared in the gate- 
 wa3^ Three of them came forward to meet us. In a 
 moment I distinguished Shaw; Henry Chatillon followed 
 with his face of manly simplicity and frankness, and 
 Delorier came last, with a broad grin of welcome. The 
 meeting was not on either side one of mere ceremony. 
 For my own part, the change was a most agreeable one, 
 from the society of savages and men little better than 
 savages, to that of my gallant and high-minded compan- 
 ion, and our noble-hearted guide. My appearance was 
 equally gratifying to Shaw, who was beginning to en- 
 tertain some very uncomfortable surmises concerning me. 
 
 Bordeaux greeted me very cordially, and shouted to 
 the cook. This functionary was a new^ acquisition, hav- 
 ing lately come from Fort Pierre with the trading-wagons. 
 Whatever skill he might have boasted, he had not the 
 most promising materials to exercise it upon. He set 
 before me, however, a breakfast of biscuit, coffee, and 
 
THE LONELY JOURNEY 253 
 
 salt pork. It seemed like a new phase of existence to be 
 seated once more on a bench, with a knife and fork, a 
 plate and tea-cup, and something resembling a table 
 before me. The coffee seemed delicious, and the bread 
 was a most welcome novelty, since for three weeks I had 
 eaten scarcely anything but meat, and that for the most 
 part without salt. The meal also had the relish of good 
 company, for opposite to me sat Shaw in elegant disha- 
 bille. If one is anxious thoroughly to appreciate the 
 value of a congenial companion, he has only to spend a 
 few weeks by himself in an Ogillallah village. And if he 
 can contrive to add to his seclusion a debilitating and 
 somewhat critical illness, his perceptions upon this sub- 
 ject will be rendered considerably more vivid. 
 
 Shaw had been upward of two weeks at the fort. I 
 found him established in his old quarters, a large apart- 
 ment usually occupied by the absent bourgeois. In one 
 corner was a soft and luxurious pile of excellent buffalo- 
 robes, and here I lay doAvn. Shaw brought me three 
 books. 
 
 "Here," said he, ''is your Shakespeare and Byi'on, 
 and here is the Old Testament, which has as much poetry 
 in it as the other two put together.'^ 
 
 I chose the worst of the three, and for the greater part of 
 that day I lay on the buffalo-robes, fairly revelling in the 
 creations of that resplendent genius which has achieved 
 no more signal triumph than that of half beguiling us to 
 forget the pitiful and unmanly character of its possessor. 
 
 CHAPTER XX 
 
 THE LONELY JOURNEY 
 
 " Of antres vast, and deserts idle, 
 Rough quarries, rocks, and hills whose heads touch heaven." 
 
 Othello. 
 
 On the day of my arrival at Fort Laramie, Shaw and 
 I were lounging on two buffalo-robes in the large apart- 
 ment hospitably assigned to us; Henry Chatillon also was 
 present, busy about the harness and weapons, which had 
 
254 THE OREGON TRAIL 
 
 been brought into the room, and two or three Indians 
 were crouching on the floor, eyeing us with their fixed 
 unwavering gaze. 
 
 "I have been well off here/' said Shaw, "in all respects 
 but one ; there is no good shongsasha to be had for love or 
 money.'' 
 
 I gave him a small leather bag containing some of 
 excellent quality, which I had brought from the Black 
 Hills. "Now, Henry," said he, "hand me Papin's 
 chopping-board, or give it to that Indian, and let him 
 cut the mixture; they understand it better than any 
 white man." 
 
 The Indian, without saying a word, mixed the bark 
 and the tobacco in clue proportions, filled the pipe, and 
 lighted it. This done, my companion and I proceeded 
 to deliberate on our future course of proceeding; first, 
 however, Shaw acquainted me with some incidents which 
 had occurred at the fort during my absence. 
 
 About a week previous four men had arrived from be- 
 yond the mountains: Sublette, Reddick, and two others. 
 Just before reaching the fort they had met a large party 
 of Indians, chiefly young men. All of them belonged to 
 the village of our old friend Smoke, who, with his whole 
 band of adherents, professed the greatest friendship for 
 the whites. The travellers therefore approached, and 
 began to converse without the least suspicion. Suddenly, 
 however, their bridles were violently seized, and they 
 were ordered to dismount. Instead of complying, they 
 struck their horses with full force and broke away from 
 the Indians. As they galloped off they heard a j^ell behind 
 them, mixed with a burst of derisive laughter, and the 
 reports of several guns. None of them was hurt, though 
 Reddick's bridle-rein was cut by a bullet within an inch 
 of his hand. After this taste of Indian hostility, they felt 
 for the moment no disposition to encounter farther risks. 
 They intended to pursue the route southward along the 
 foot of the mountains to Bent's Fort; and as our plans 
 coincided with theirs, they proposed to join forces. Find- 
 ing, however, that I did not return, they grew impatient 
 of inaction, forgot their late escape, and set out without 
 us, promising to wait our arrival at Bent's Fort. From 
 
THE LONELY JOURNEY 255 
 
 thence we were to make the long journey to the settle- 
 ments in company, as the path was not a little dangerous,, 
 being infested by hostile Pawnees and Camanches. 
 
 We expected, on reaching Bent's Fort, to find there still 
 another reinforcement. A young Kentuckian, of the true 
 Kentucky blood, generous, impetuous, and a gentleman 
 withal, had come out to the mountains with RusseFs 
 party of California emigrants. One of his chief objects, 
 as he gave out, was to kill an Indian; an exploit which he 
 afterward succeeded in achieving, much to the jeopardy 
 of ourselves and others who had to pass through the 
 country of the dead Pawnee's enraged relatives. Having 
 become disgusted with his emigrant associates, he left 
 them, and had some time before set out with a party of 
 companions for the head of the Arkansas. He sent us 
 previously a letter, intimating that he would wait until 
 we arrived at Bent's Fort, and accompany us thence to 
 the settlements. When, however, he came to the fort he 
 found there a party of forty men about to make the 
 homeward journey. He wisely preferred to avail himself 
 of so strong an escort. Mr. Sublette and his companions 
 also set out, in order to overtake this company; so that 
 on reaching Bent's Fort, some six weeks after, we found 
 ourselves deserted by our alHes and thrown once more 
 upon our own resources. 
 
 But I am anticipating. When, before leaving the settle- 
 ment, we had made inquiries concerning this part of the 
 country of General Kearney, Mr. Mackenzie, Captain 
 Wyeth, and others well acquainted with it, they had all 
 advised us by no means to attempt this southward journey 
 with fewer than fifteen or twenty men. The danger con- 
 sists in the chance of encountering Indian war-parties. 
 Sometimes, throughout the whole length of the journey 
 (a distance of three hundred and fifty miles), one does 
 not meet a single human being; frequently, however, the 
 route is beset by Arapahoes and other unfriendly tribes; 
 in which case the scalp of the adventurer is in imminent 
 peril. As to the escort of fifteen or twenty men, such a 
 force of whites could at that time scarcely be collected in 
 the whole country; and had the case been otherwise, the 
 expense of securing them, together with the necessary 
 
256 THE OREGON TRAIL 
 
 number of horses, would have been extremely heavy. 
 We had resolved, however, upon pursuing this southward 
 course. There were, indeed, two other routes from Fort 
 Laramie; but both of these were less interesting, and 
 neither was free from danger. Being unable, therefore, 
 to procure the fifteen or twenty men recommended, we 
 determined to set out with those we had already in our 
 employ — Henry Chatillon, Delorier, and, Raymond. The 
 men themselves made no objection, nor would they have 
 made any had the journey been more dangerous; for 
 Henry was without fear, and the other two without 
 thought. 
 
 Shaw and I were much better fitted for this mode of 
 travelling than we had been on betaking ourselves to the 
 prairies for the first time a few months before. The daily 
 routine had ceased to be a novelty. All the details of the 
 journey and the camp had become familiar to us. We 
 had seen life under a new^ aspect; the human biped had 
 been reduced to his primitive condition. We had lived 
 without law to protect, a roof to shelter, or garment of 
 cloth to cover us. One of us, at least, had been without 
 bread, and without salt to season his food. Our idea of 
 w^hat is indispensable to human existence and enjoyment 
 had been wonderfully curtailed, and a horse, a rifle, and 
 a knife seemed to make up the w^hole of life's necessaries. 
 For these once obtained, together with the skill to use 
 them, all else that is essential would follow in their train, 
 and a host of luxuries besides. One other lesson our 
 short prairie experience had taught us: that of profound 
 contentment in the present, and utter contempt for what 
 the future might bring forth. 
 
 These principles established, we prepared to leave 
 Fort Laramie. On the fourth day of August, early in the 
 afternoon, we bade a final adieu to its hospitable gateway. 
 Again Shaw and I were riding side by side on the prairie. 
 For the first fifty miles we had companions with us: 
 Troche, a little trapper, and Rouville, a nondescript in the 
 employ of the Fur Company, who were going to join the 
 trader Bisonette, at his encampment near the head of 
 Horse Creek. We rode only six or eight miles that after- 
 noon before we came to a little brook traversing the 
 
THE LONELY JOURNEY 257 
 
 barren prairie. All along its course grew copses of young 
 wild-cherry trees, loaded with ripe fruit, and almost con- 
 cealing the gliding thread of water with their dense 
 growth, while on each side rose swells of rich green grass. 
 Here we encamped; and being much too indolent to pitch 
 our tent, we flung our saddles on the ground, spread a pair 
 of buffalo-robes, lay down upon them, and began to 
 smoke. Meanwhile, Delorier busied himself with his 
 hissing fr3'ing-pan, and Raymond stood guard over the 
 band of grazing horses. Delorier had an active assistant 
 in Rouville, who professed great skill in the culinary art, 
 and, seizing upon a fork, began to lend his zealous aid in 
 making ready supper. Indeed, according to his own be- 
 lief, Rouville was a man of universal knowledge, and he 
 lost no opportunity to display his manifold accomplish- 
 ments. He had been a circus-ricler at St. Louis, and once 
 he rode round Fort Laramie on his head, to the utter 
 bewilderment of all the Indians. He was also noted as 
 the wit of the fort ; and as he had considerable humor and 
 abundant vivacity, he contributed more that night to the 
 liveliness of the camp than all the rest of the party put 
 together. At one instant he would be kneeling by Delo- 
 rier, instructing him in the true method of frying antelope- 
 steaks, then he would come and seat himself at our side^ 
 dilating upon the orthodox fashion of braiding up a 
 horse's tail, telling apocryphal stories how he had killed a 
 buffalo-bull with a knife, having first cut off his tail when 
 at full speed, or relating whimsical anecdotes of the 
 bourgeois Papin. At last he snatched up a volume of 
 Shakespeare that was lying on the grass, and halted and 
 stumbled through a line pv two to prove that he could 
 read. He went ga^^bolling about the camp, chattering 
 like some frolicsome ape; and whatever he was doing at 
 one moment, the presumption was a sure one that he 
 would not be doing it the next. His companion Troche 
 sat silently on the grass, not speaking a word, but keep- 
 ing a vigilant eye on a very ugly little Utah squaw, of 
 whom he was extremely jealous. 
 
 On the next day we travelled farther, crossing the 
 wdde sterile basin called "Goche's Hole." Toward night 
 we became involved among deep ravines; and being also 
 
258 THE OREGON TRAIL 
 
 unable to find water, our journey was protracted to a very 
 late hour. On the next morning we had to pass a long 
 Hne of bluffs, whose raw sides, wrought upon by rains and 
 storms, were of a ghastly whiteness most oppressive to 
 the sight. As we ascended a gap in these hills, the way 
 was marked by huge foot-prints, like those of a human 
 giant. They were the track of the grizzly bear; and on 
 the previous day also we had seen abundance of them 
 along the dry channels of the streams we had passed. 
 Immediately after this we were crossing a barren plain, 
 spreading in long and gentle undulations to the horizon. 
 Though the sun was bright, there w^as a light haze in the 
 atmosphere. The distant hills assumed strange, dis- 
 torted forms, and the edge of the horizon was continually 
 changing its aspect. Shaw and I were riding together, 
 and Henry Chatillon was alone, a few rods before us; he 
 stopped his horse suddenly, and turning round with the 
 peculiar eager and earnest expression which he always 
 wore when excited, he called us to come forward. We 
 galloped to his side. Henry pointed towards a black 
 speck on the gray swell of the prairie, apparently about a 
 mile off. "It must be a bear," said he; "come, now w^e 
 shall all have some sport. Better fun to fight him than 
 to fight an old buffalo-bull; grizzly bear so strong and 
 smart.'' 
 
 So we all galloped forward together, prepared for a 
 hard fight; for these bears, though clumsj^ in appearance 
 and extremely large, are incredibly fierce and active. 
 The swell of the prairie concealed the black object from 
 our view. Immediately after it appeared again. But 
 now it seemed quite near to us; and as we looked at it in 
 astonishment, it suddenly separated into two parts, each 
 of which took wing and flew away. We stopped our horses 
 and looked round at Henry, whose face exhibited a curious 
 mixture of mirth and mortification. His hawdv's eye had 
 been so completely deceived by the peculiar atmosphere, 
 that he had mistaken two large crows at the distance of 
 fifty rods for a grizzly bear a mile off. To the journey's 
 end Henry never heard the last of the grizzly bear with 
 wings. 
 
 In the afternoon we came to the foot of a considerable 
 
THE LONELY JOURNEY 259 
 
 hill. As we ascended it, Rouville began to ask questions 
 concerning our condition and prospects at home, and 
 Shaw was edifying him with a minute account of an 
 imaginary wife and child, to which he listened with im- 
 plicit faith. Reaching the top of the hill, we saw the 
 windings of Horse Creek on the plains below us, and a 
 little on the left we could distinguish the camp of Bisonette 
 among the trees and copses along the course of the 
 stream. Rouville's face assumed just then a most ludi- 
 crously blank expression. We inquired what was the 
 matter; when it appeared that Bisonette had sent him 
 from this place to Fort Laramie with the sole object of 
 bringing back a supply of tobacco. Our rattlebrain 
 friend, from the time of his reaching the fort up to the 
 present moment, had entirely forgotten the object of his 
 journey, and had ridden a dangerous hundred miles for 
 nothing. Descending to Horse Creek, we forded it, and 
 on the opposite bank a solitary Indian sat on horseback 
 under a tree. He said nothing, but turned and led the 
 way toward the camp. Bisonette had made choice of an 
 admirable position. The stream, with its thick growth of 
 trees, inclosed on three sides a wide green meadow, where 
 about forty Dahcotah lodges were pitched in a circle, 
 and beyond them half a dozen lodges of the friendly 
 Shienne. Bisonette himself lived in the Indian manner. 
 Riding up to his lodge, we found him seated at the head 
 of it, surrounded by various appliances of comfort not 
 common on the prairie. His squaw was near him, and 
 rosy children were scrambling about in printed-calico 
 gowns; Paul Dorion also, with his leathery face and old 
 white capote, was seated in the lodge, together with 
 Antoine Le Rouge, a half-breed Pawnee, Sibillie, a trader, 
 and several other white men. 
 
 "It vv'ill do 3'ou no harm," said Bisonette, "to stay here 
 with us for a day or two before you start for the Pueblo." 
 
 We accepted the invitation, and pitched our tent on a 
 rising ground above the camp and close to the edge of the 
 trees. Bisonette soon invited us to a feast, and we 
 suffered abundance of the same sort of attention from his 
 Indian associates. The reader may possibly recollect 
 that when I joined the Indian village, beyond the Black 
 
260 THE OREGON TRAIL 
 
 Hills, I found that a few families were absent, having 
 declined to pass the mountains along with the rest. The 
 Indians in Bisonette's camp consisted of these very 
 families, and many of them came to me that evening to 
 inquire after their relatives and friends. They were not 
 a little mortified to learn that while they, from their own 
 timidity and indolence, were almost in a starving condi- 
 tion, the rest of the village had provided their lodges for 
 the next season, laid in a great stock of provisions, and 
 were living in abundance and luxury. Bisonette's com- 
 panions had been sustaining themselves for some time 
 on wild cherries, which the squaws pounded up, stones 
 and all, and spread on buffalo-robes, to dry in the sun; 
 they were then eaten without farther preparation, or 
 used as an ingredient in various delectable compounds. 
 
 On the next day the camp was in commotion with a 
 new arrival. A single Indian had come with his family 
 the whole way from the Arkansas. As he passed among 
 the lodges he put on an expression of unusual dignity 
 and importance, and gave out that he had brought great 
 news to tell the whites. Soon after the squaws had 
 erected his lodge, he sent his little son to invite all the 
 white men and all the more distinguished Indians to a 
 feast. The guests arrived and sat wedged together, 
 shoulder to shoulder, within the hot and suffocating 
 lodge. The Stabber, for that was our entertainer's name, 
 had killed an old buffalo-bull on his way. This veteran's 
 boiled tripe, tougher than leather, formed the main item 
 of the repast. For the rest, it consisted of wild cherries 
 and grease boiled together in a large copper kettle. The 
 feast was distributed, and for a moment all was silent, 
 strenuous exertion; then each guest, with one or two 
 exceptions, however, turned his wooden dish bottom 
 upward to prove that he had done full justice to his 
 entertainer's hospitality. The Stabber next produced 
 his chopping-board, on which he prepared the mixture 
 for smoking, and filled several pipes, which circulated 
 among the company. This done, he seated himself up- 
 right on his couch, and began with much gesticulation 
 to tell his story. I will not repeat his childish jargon. It 
 was so entangled, hke the greater part of an Indian's 
 
THE LONELY JOURNEY 261 
 
 stories, with absurd and contradictory details, that it 
 was almost impossible to disengage from it a single par- 
 ticle of truth. All that we could gather was the following: 
 
 He had been on the Arkansas, and there he had seen 
 six great war-parties of whites. He had never believed 
 before that the whole world contained half so many white 
 men. They all had large horses, long knives, and short 
 rifles, and some of them were attired alike in the most 
 splendid war-dresses he had ever seen. From this account 
 it was clear that bodies of dragoons and perhaps also of 
 volunteer cavalry had been passing up the Arkansas. 
 The Stabber had also seen a great many of the white 
 lodges of the Meneaska, drawn by their long-horned 
 buffalo. These could be nothing else than covered ox- 
 wagons, used, no doubt, in transporting stores for the 
 troops. Soon after seeing this, our host had met an Indian 
 who had lately come from among the Camanches. The 
 latter had told him that all the Mexicans had gone out 
 to a great buffalo-hunt; that the Americans had hid 
 themselves in a ravine. When the Mexicans had shot 
 away all their arroAvs, the Americans had fired their guns, 
 raised their war-whoop, rushed out, and killed them all. 
 We could only infer from this that war had been declared 
 with Mexico, and a battle fought in which the Americans 
 were victorious. When, some weeks after, we arrived 
 at the Pueblo, we heard of General Kearney's march 
 up the Arkansas, and of General Taylor's victories at 
 Matamoras. 
 
 As the sun was setting that evening a great crowd 
 gathered on the plain, by the side of our tent, to try the 
 speed of their horses. These were of every shape, size, 
 and color. Some came from California, some from the 
 States, some from among the mountains, and some from 
 the wild bands of the prairie. They were of every hue — 
 white, black, red, and gray, or mottled and clouded with 
 a strange variety of colors. They all had a Avild and 
 startled look, very different from the staid and sober 
 aspect of a well-bred city steed. Those most noted for 
 swiftness and spirit were decorated with eagle feathers 
 dangling from their manes and tails. Fifty or sixty 
 Dahcotah were present, wrapped from head to foot in. 
 
262 THE OREGON TRAIL 
 
 their heavy robes of whitened hide. There were also a 
 considerable number of the Shienne, many of whom wore 
 gaudy Mexican ponchos, swathed around their shoulders, 
 but leaving the right arm bare. Mingled among the crowd 
 of Indians were a number of Canadians, chiefly in the 
 employ of Bisonette; men w^hose home is the wilderness, 
 and who love the camp-fire better than the domestic 
 hearth. They are contented and happy in the midst of 
 hardship, privation, and danger. Their cheerfulness and 
 gayety is irrepressible, and no people on earth under- 
 stand better how '^ to daff the world aside and bid it pass.'^ 
 Besides these, were two or three half-breeds, a race of 
 rather extraordinary composition, being, according to 
 the common saying, half Indian, half white man, and 
 half devil. Antoine Le Rouge was the most conspicuous 
 among them, with his loose pantaloons and his fluttering 
 calico shirt. A handkerchief was bound round his head 
 to confine his black snaky hair, and his small eyes twinkled 
 beneath it with a mischievous lustre. He had a fine 
 cream-colorecl horse, whose speed he must needs try along 
 with the rest. So he threw off the rude high-peaked sad- 
 dle, and substituting a piece of buffalo-robe, leaped 
 lightly into his seat. The space was cleared, the word 
 was given, and he and his Indian rival darted out like 
 lightning from among the crowd, each stretching forvv^ard 
 over his horse's neck and plying his heavy Indian wdiip 
 with might and main. A moment, and both v/ere lost 
 in the gloom; but Antoine soon came riding back victori- 
 ous, exultingly patting the neck of his quivering and 
 panting horse. 
 
 About midnight, as I lay asleep, wrapped in a buffalo- 
 robe on the ground by the side of our cart, Raymond 
 came up and woke me. Something, he said, was going 
 forward which I would like to see. Looking down into 
 the camp I saw, on the farther side of it, a great number 
 of Indians gathered around a fire, the bright glare of 
 which made them visible through the thick darkness; 
 while from the midst of them proceeded a loud, measured 
 chant which would have killed Paganini outright, broken 
 occasionally by a burst of sharp yells. I gathered the 
 robe around me, for the night was cold, and walked 
 
THE LONELY JOURNEY 263 
 
 down to the spot. The dark throng of Indians was so 
 dense that they almost intercepted the hght of the flame. 
 As I was pushing among them with but little ceremony, 
 a chief interposed himself, and I was given to under- 
 stand that a white man must not approach the scene of 
 their solemnities too closely. By passing around to the 
 other side where there was a little opening in the crowd, 
 I could see clearly what w^as going forward without intrud- 
 ing my unhallowed presence into the inner circle. The 
 society of the "Strong Hearts" were engaged in one of 
 their dances. The "Strong Hearts" are a warlike asso- 
 ciation, comprising men of both the Dahcotah and Shienne 
 nations, and entirely composed, or supposed to be so, of 
 young braves of the highest mettle. Its fundamental 
 principle is the admirable one of never retreating from 
 any enterprise once commenced. All these Indian asso- 
 ciations have a tutelary spirit. That of the "Strong 
 Hearts" is embodied in the fox, an animal which white 
 men would hardly have selected for a similar purpose, 
 though his subtle and cautious character agrees well 
 enough with an Indian's notions of what is honorable in 
 warfare. The dancers were circling round and round the 
 fire^. each figure brightly illumined at one moment by 
 the yellow light, and at the next drawn in blackest shadow 
 as it passed between the flame and the spectator. They 
 ■vvoulcl imitate with the most ludicrous exactness the 
 motions and the voice of their sly patron the fox. Then 
 a startling yell would be given. Many other warriors 
 would leap into the ring, and with faces upturned toward 
 the starless sky, they would all stamp, and whoop, and 
 brandish their weapons like so many frantic devils. 
 
 Until the next afternoon we were still remaining with 
 Bisonette. My companion and I with our three attend- 
 ants then left his camp for the Pueblo, a distance of three 
 hundred miles, and we supposed the journey would occupy 
 about a fortnight. During this time we all earnestly 
 hoped that we might not meet a single human being, 
 for should we encounter any, they would in all proba- 
 bility be enemies, ferocious robbers and murderers, in 
 whose eyes our rifles would be our only passports. For 
 the first two days nothing worth mentioning took place. 
 
264 THE OREGON TRAIL 
 
 On the third morning, however, an untoward incident 
 occurred. We were encamped by the side of a httle brook 
 in an extensive hollow of the plain. Delorier was up long 
 before daylight, and before he began to prepare breakfast 
 he turned loose all the horses, as in duty bound. There 
 was a cold mist clinging close to the ground, and by the 
 time the rest of us were awake the animals were invisible. 
 It was only after a long and anxious search that we could 
 discover by their tracks the direction they had taken. 
 They had all set off for Fort Laramie, following the 
 guidance of a mutinous old mule, and though many of 
 them were hobbled, they had travelled three miles before 
 they could be overtaken and driven back. 
 
 For the following two or three days we were passing 
 over an arid desert. The only vegetation was a few tufts 
 of short grass, dried and shrivelled by the heat. There 
 was an abundance of strange insects and reptiles. Huge 
 crickets, black and bottle-green, and wingless grass- 
 hoppers of the most extravagant dimensions, were tum- 
 bling about our horses' feet, and lizards without number 
 were darting like lightning among the tufts of grass. The 
 most curious animal, however, was that commonly 
 called the horned-frog. I caught one of them and con- 
 signed him to the care of Delorier, who tied him up in a 
 moccasin. About a month after this I examined the 
 prisoner's condition, and finding him still lively and 
 active, I provided him with a cage of buffalo-hide, which 
 was hung up in the cart. In this manner he arrived 
 safely at the settlements. From thence he travelled the 
 whole way to Boston, packed closely in a trunk, being 
 regaled with fresh air regularly every night. When he 
 reached his destination he was deposited under a glass 
 case, where he sat for some months in great tranquillity 
 and composure, alternately dilating and contracting his 
 white throat to the admiration of his visitors. At length, 
 one morning about the middle of winter, he gave up the 
 ghost. His death w^as attributed to starvation, a very 
 probable conclusion, since for six months he had taken 
 no food whatever, though the sympathy of his juvenile 
 admirers had tempted his palate with a great variety of 
 delicacies. We found also animals of a somewhat larger 
 
THE LONELY JOURNEY 265 
 
 growth. The number of prairie-dogs was absolutely 
 astounding. Frequently the hard and dry prairie w^ould 
 be thickly covered, for many miles together, with the 
 little mounds which they make around the mouth of 
 their burrows, and small squeaking voices yelping at us 
 as we passed along. The noses of the inhabitants would 
 be just visible at the mouth of their holes, but no sooner 
 was their curiosity satisfied than they would instantly 
 vanish. Some of the bolder dogs — though, in fact, they 
 are no dogs at all — but little marmots, rather smaller 
 than a rabbit — would sit yelping at us on the top of their 
 mounds, jerking their tails emphatically with every 
 shrill cry they uttered. As the danger drew nearer they 
 would wheel about, toss their heels into the air, and dive 
 in a twinkling down into their burrows. Toward sunset, 
 and especially if rain were threatening, the whole com- 
 munity would make their appearance above ground. We 
 would see them gathered in large knots around the bur- 
 row of some favorite citizen. There they would all sit 
 erect, their tails spread out on the ground, and their 
 paws hanging down before their white breasts, chattering 
 and squeaking v/ith the utmost vivacity upon some 
 topic of common interest, while the proprietor of the bur- 
 row, with his head just visible on the top of his mound, 
 would sit looking down with a complacent countenance 
 on the enjoyment of his guests. Meanwhile, others 
 would be running about from burrow to burrow, as if 
 on some errand of the last importance to their sub- 
 terranean commonwealth. The snakes are apparently 
 the prairie-dog's worst enemies; at least, I think too well 
 of the latter to suppose that they associate on friendly 
 terms with these slimy intruders, who may be seen at all 
 times basking among their holes, into which they always 
 retreat when disturbed. Small owls, with wise and grave 
 countenances, also make their abode with the prairie- 
 dogs, though on what terms the}^ live together I could 
 never ascertain. The manners and customs, the political 
 and domestic economy of these little marmots are worthy 
 of closer attention than one is able to give when pushing 
 by forced marches through their country, with his thoughts 
 engrossed by objects of greater moment. 
 
266 THE OREGON TRAIL 
 
 On the fifth day after leaving Bisonette's camp we 
 saw, late in the afternoon, what we supposed to be a 
 considerable stream, but, on our approaching it, we 
 found to our mortification nothing but a dry bed of sand, 
 into which all the water had sunk and disappeared. We 
 separated, some riding in one direction and some in 
 another, along its course. Still, we found no traces of 
 water, not even so much as a wet spot in the sand. The 
 old cotton-wood trees that grew along the bank, lament- 
 ably abused by lightning and tempest, were withering 
 with the drought, and on the dead limbs, at the summit 
 of the tallest, half a dozen crows were hoarsely cawing, 
 like birds of evil omen, as they were. We had no alterna- 
 tive but to keep on. There was no water nearer than the 
 South Fork of the Platte, about ten miles distant. We 
 moved forward,, angry and silent, over a desert as flat as 
 the outspread ocean. 
 
 The sky had been obscured since the morning by thin 
 mists and vapors, but now vast piles of clouds were 
 gathered together in the west. They rose to a great 
 height above the horizon, and looking up toward them, 
 I distinguished one mass darker than the rest, and of a 
 peculiar conical form. I happened to look again, and still 
 could see it as before. At some moments it was dimly 
 seen, at others its outline was sharp and distinct; but 
 while the clouds around it were shifting, changing, and 
 dissolving away, it still towered aloft in the midst of 
 them, fixed and immovable. It must, thought I, be the 
 summit of a mountain; and yet its height staggered me. 
 My conclusion was right, however. It was Long's Peak, 
 once believed to be one of the highest of the Rocky Moun- 
 tain chain, though more recent discoveries have proved 
 the contrary. The thickening gloom soon hid it from 
 view, and we never saw it again, for on the following day, 
 and for some time after, the air was so full of mist that 
 the view of distant objects was entirely intercepted. 
 
 It grew very late. Turning from our direct course, we 
 niade for the river at its nearest point, though in the 
 utter darkness it was not easy to direct our way w^ith 
 much precision. Raymond rode on one side and Henry 
 on the other. We could hear each of them shoutuig that 
 
THE LONELY JOURNEY 267 
 
 he had come upon a deep ravine. We steered at random 
 between Scylla and Charybdis, and soon after became, 
 as it seemed; inextricably involved with deep chasms all 
 around us, while the darkness was such that we could not 
 see a rod in any direction. We partially extricated our- 
 selves by scrambling, cart and all, through a shallow 
 ravine. W^e came next to a steep descent, dow^n w^hich 
 we plunged without well knowing what was at the bottom. 
 There was a great cracking of sticks and dry twigs. Over 
 our heads were certain large shadow}^ objects; and in front 
 something like the faint gleaming of a dark sheet of water. 
 Raymond ran his horse against a tree; Henry alighted, 
 ancl feeling on the ground, declared that there was grass 
 enough for the horses. Before taking off his saddle, each 
 man led his own horses down to the w^ater in the best way 
 he could. Then picketing two or three of the evil-disposecl, 
 we turned the rest loose, and lay down among the dry 
 sticks to sleep. In the morning we found ourselves close 
 to the South Fork of the Platte, on a spot surrounded 
 by bushes and rank grass. Compensating ourselves with 
 a hearty breakfast for the ill fare of the previous night, 
 w^e set forward again on our journey. When only two 
 or three rods from the camp I saw Shaw stop his mule, 
 level his gun, ancl after a long aim fire at some object in 
 the grass. Delorier next jumped forward, and began to 
 dance about, belaboring the unseen enemy with a whip. 
 Then he stooped down, and drew out of the grass by the 
 neck an enormous rattlesnake, with his head completely 
 shattered by Shaw's bullet. As Delorier held him out at 
 arm's length with an exulting grin, his tail, which still 
 kept slowly writhing about, almost touched the ground; 
 and the body in the largest part was as thick as a stout 
 man's arm. He had fourteen rattles, but the end of his 
 tail was blunted, as if he could once have boasted of many 
 more. From this time till we reached the Pueblo, we 
 killed at least four or five of these snakes every day, as 
 they lay coiled and rattling on the hot sand. Shaw was 
 the Saint Patrick of the party, and whenever he or any- 
 one else killed a snake he always pulled off its tail and 
 stored it away in his bullet-pouch, which was soon 
 crammed with an edifying collection of rattles, great and 
 
268 THE OREGON TRAIL 
 
 small. Delorier with his whip also came in for a share of 
 the praise. A day or two after this he triumphantly pro- 
 duced a small snake about a span and a half long, with 
 one infant rattle at the end of his tail. 
 
 We forded the South Fork of the Platte. On its farther 
 bank were the traces of a very large camp of Arapahoes. 
 The ashes of some three hundred fires were visible among 
 the scattered trees, together with the remains of sweating 
 lodges, and all the other appurtenances of a permanent 
 camp. The place, however, had been for some months 
 deserted. A few miles farther on we found more recent 
 signs of Indians; the trail of two or three lodges, which 
 had evidently passed the day before, where every foot- 
 print was perfectly distinct in the dry, dusty soil. We 
 noticed in particular the track of one moccasin, upon the 
 sole of which its economical proprietor had placed a large 
 patch. These signs gave us but little uneasiness, as the 
 number of the warriors scarcely exceeded that of our own 
 party. At noon we rested under the walls of a large fort, 
 built in these solitudes some years since by M. St. Vrain. 
 It was now abandoned and fast falling into ruin. The 
 walls of unbaked bricks were cracked from top to bottom. 
 Our horses recoiled in terror from the neglected entrance, 
 where the heavy gates were torn from their hinges and 
 flung down. The area within was overgrown with weeds, 
 and the long ranges of apartments once occupied by the 
 motley concourse of traders, Canadians, and squaws, were 
 now miserably dilapidated. Twelve miles farther on, 
 near the spot where we encamped, were the remains of 
 still another fort, standing in melanchoty desertion and 
 neglect. 
 
 Early on the following morning we made a startling- 
 discovery. We passed close by a large deserted encamp- 
 ment of Arapahoes. There were about fifty fires still 
 smouldering on the ground, and it was evident from 
 numerous signs that the Indians must have left the place 
 within two hours of our reaching it. Their trail crossed 
 our own at right angles, and led in the direction of a line 
 of hills, half a mile on our left. There were women and 
 children in the party, which would have greatly diminished 
 the danger of encountering them. Henry Chatillon ex- 
 
THE LONELY JOURNEY 269 
 
 amined the encampment and the trail with a very pro- 
 fessional and business-like air. 
 
 "Supposing we had met them, Henry?" said I. 
 
 "Why/^ said he, "we hold out our hands to them, and 
 give them all we've got; they take away everything, and 
 then I believe they no kill us. Perhaps," added he, look- 
 ing up with a quiet unchanged face, "perhaps we no let 
 them rob us. Maybe before they come near, we have a 
 chance to get into a ravine, or under the bank of the 
 river; then, you know, we fight them.'' 
 
 About noon on that day we reached Cherry Creek. 
 Here was a great abundance of wild-cherries, plums^ 
 gooseberries, and currants. The stream, however, like 
 most of the others which we passed, was dried up with 
 the heat, and we had to dig holes in the sand to find water 
 for ourselves and our horses. Two clays after we left the 
 banks of the creek which we had been following for some 
 time, and began to cross the high dividing ridge which 
 separates the waters of the Platte from those of the 
 Arkansas. The scenery was altogether changed. In 
 place of the burning plains, we were passing now through 
 rough and savage glens, and among hills crowned with a 
 dreary growth of pines. We encamped among these soli- 
 tudes on the night of the sixteenth of August. A tempest 
 was threatening. The sun went down among volumes of 
 jet-black cloud, edged with a bloody red. But in spite of 
 these portentous signs we neglected to put up the tent, 
 and being extremely fatigued, lay down on the ground 
 and fell asleep. The storm broke about midnight, and 
 we erected the tent amid darkness and confusion. In the 
 morning all was fair again, and Pike's Peak, white with 
 snow, was towering above the wilderness afar off. 
 
 We pushed through an extensive tract of pine woods. 
 Large black squirrels were leaping among the branches. 
 From the farther edge of this forest we saw the prairie 
 again, hollowed out before us into a vast basin, and about 
 a mile in front we could discern a little black speck moving 
 upon its surface. It could be nothing but a buffalo. 
 Henry primed His rifle afresh and galloped forward. To 
 the left of the animal was a low rocky mound, of which 
 Henry availed himself in making his approach. After a 
 
270 THE OREGON TRAIL 
 
 short time we heard the faint report of the rifle. The 
 bull, mortally wounded from a distance of nearly three 
 hundred yards, ran wildly round and round in a circle. 
 Shaw and I then galloped forward, and passing him as he 
 ran foaming with rage and pain, we discharged our pistols 
 into his side. Once or twice he rushed furiously upon us, 
 but his strength w^as rapidly exhausted. Down he fell on 
 his knees. For one instant he glared up at his enemies, 
 wath burning eyes, through his black tangled mane, and 
 then rolled over on his side. Though gaunt and thin, he 
 was larger and heavier than the largest ox. Foam and 
 blood flew together from his nostrils as he lay bellow^ing 
 and pawing the ground, tearing up- grass and earth with 
 his hoofs. His sides rose and fell like a vast pair of bellows, 
 the blood spouting up in jets from the bullet-holes. 
 Suddenly his glaring eyes became like a lifeless jelly. 
 He lay motionless on the ground. Henry stooped over 
 him, and making an incision with his knife, pronounced 
 the meat too rank and tough for use; so, disappointed 
 in our hopes of an addition to our stock of provisions, we 
 rode away and left the carcass to the wolves. 
 
 In the afternoon we saw the mountains rising like a 
 gigantic wall at no great distance on our right. ^^ Des 
 sauvages! des sauvages!" exclaimed Delorier, looking 
 around with a frightened face, and pointing with his whip 
 toward the foot of the mountains. In fact, we could see 
 at a distance a number of little black specks, like horsemen 
 in rapid motion. Henry Chatillon, with Shaw and myself, 
 galloped toward them to reconnoitre, when, to our amuse- 
 ment, we saw the supposed Arapahoes resolved into the 
 black tops of some pine trees which grew along a ravine. 
 The summits of these pines, just visible above the verge 
 of the prairie, and seeming to move as we ourselves were 
 advancing, looked exactly like a line of horsemen. 
 
 We encamped among ravines and hollows, through 
 which a little brook w^as foaming angrily. Before sunrise 
 in the morning the snow-covered mountains were beauti- 
 fully tinged with a delicate rose color. A noble spectacle 
 awaited us as w^e moved forward. Six o'r eight miles on 
 our right. Pike's Peak and his giant brethren rose out of 
 the level prairie, as if springing from the bed of the ocean. 
 
THE LONELY JOURNEY 271 
 
 From their summits down to the plain below they were 
 involved in a mantle of clouds, in restless motion, as if 
 urged by strong winds. For one instant some snowy 
 peak, towering in awful solitude, would be disclosed to 
 view. As the clouds broke along the mountain, we could 
 see the dreary forests, the tremendous precipices, the 
 white patches of snow, the gulfs and chasms as black as 
 night, all revealed for an instant, and then disappearing 
 from the view. One could not but recall the stanza of 
 Childe Harold: 
 
 "Morn dawns, and with it stern Albania's hills, 
 Dark Suli's rocks, and Pindus' inland peak, 
 Robed half in mist, bedewed with snowy rills, 
 Array'd in many a dun and purple streak, 
 Arise; and, as the clouds along them break, 
 Disclose the dwelling of the mountaineer: 
 Here roams the wolf, the eagle whets his beak, 
 Birds, beasts of prey, and wilder men appear, 
 And gathering storms around convulse the closing year." 
 
 Every line save one of this description was more than 
 verified. There were no "dwelHngs of the mountaineer" 
 among these heights. Fierce savages, restlessly wander- 
 ing through summer and winter, alone invade them. 
 '^ Their hand is against every man, and every man's hand 
 against them.'' 
 
 On the day after we had left the mountains at some 
 distance. A black cloud descended upon them, and a 
 tremendous explosion of thunder followed, reverberating 
 among the precipices. In a few moments everything grew 
 black, and the rain poured down Hke a cataract. We got 
 under an old cotton-wood tree, which stood by the side 
 of a stream, and waited there till the rage of the torrent 
 had passed. 
 
 The clouds opened at the point where they first had 
 gathered, and the whole sublime congregation of moun- 
 tains was bathed at once in warm sunshine. They seemed 
 more like some luxurious vision of eastern romance than 
 like a reality of that wilderness; all were melted together 
 into a soft delicious blue, as voluptuous as the sky of 
 Naples or the transparent sea that washes the sunny clifEs 
 of Capri. On the left the whole sky was still of an inky 
 blackness; but two concentric rainbows stood in brilliant 
 
272 • THE OREGON TRAIL 
 
 relief against it, while far in front the ragged cloud still 
 streamed before the wind, and the retreating thunder 
 muttered angrily. 
 
 Through that afternoon and the next morning we were 
 passing down the banks of the stream called " La Fontaine 
 qui Bouille/' from the boiling spring whose waters flow 
 into it. When we stopped at noon we were within six or 
 eight miles of the Pueblo. Setting out again, we found 
 by the fresh tracks that a horseman had just been out to 
 reconnoitre us; he had circled half round the camp, and 
 then galloped back full speed for the Pueblo. What made 
 him so shy of us we could not conceive. After an hour's 
 ride we reached the edge of a hill, from which a welcome 
 sight greeted us. The Arkansas ran along the valley be- 
 low, among woods and groves, and closely nestled in the 
 midst of wide corn-fields and green meadows, where cattle 
 were grazing, rose the low mud walls of the Pueblo. 
 
 CHAPTER XXI 
 
 THE PUEBLO AND BENT's FORT 
 
 "It came to pass, that when he did address 
 
 Himself to quit at length this mountain land, 
 Combined marauders half-way barred egress, 
 
 And wasted far and near with glaive and brand." 
 
 Childe Harold. 
 
 We approached the gate of the Pueblo. It was a 
 wretchecl species of fort, of most primitive construction, 
 being nothing more than a large square inclosure, sur- 
 rounded by a wall of mud, miserably cracked and di- 
 lapidated. The slender pickets that surmounted it were 
 half-broken down, and the gate dangled on its wooden 
 hinges so loosely that to open or shut it seemed likely to 
 fling it down altogether. Two or three squalid Mexicans, 
 with their broad hats, and their vile faces overgrown with 
 hair, were lounging about the bank of the river in front 
 of it. They disappeared as they saw us approach ; and as 
 we rode up to the gate, a light, active, little figure came 
 out to meet us. It was our old friend Richard. He had 
 
THE PUEBLO AND BENT'S FORT 273 
 
 come from Fort Laramie on a trading expedition to Taos; 
 but finding when he reached the Pueblo that the war 
 would prevent his going farther, he was quietly waiting 
 till the conquest of the country should allow him to pro- 
 ceed. He seemed to consider himself bound to do the 
 honors of the place. Shaking us warmly by the hand, he- 
 led the way into the area. 
 
 Here we saw his large Santa Fe wagons standing to- 
 gether. A few squaws and Spanish women, and a few 
 Mexicans, as mean and miserable as the place itself, were 
 lazily sauntering about. Richard conducted us to the 
 state apartment of the Pueblo, a small mud room, very 
 neatly finished, considering the material, and garnished 
 with a crucifix, a looking-glass, a picture of the Virgin, 
 and a rusty horse-pistol. There were no chairs, but instead 
 of them a number of chests and boxes ranged about the 
 room. There was another room beyond, less sumptuously 
 decorated, and here three or four Spanish girls, one of 
 them very pretty, were baking cakes at a mud fireplace 
 in the corner. They brought out a poncho, which they 
 spread upon the floor by way of table-cloth. A supper, 
 which seemed to us luxurious, was soon laid out upon it, 
 and folded buffalo-robes were placed around it to receive 
 the guests. Two or three Americans besides ourselves 
 were present. We sat down Turkish fashion, and began 
 to inquire the news. Richard told us that about three 
 weeks before General Kearney's army had left Bent's 
 Fort to march against Santa Fe; that when last heard 
 from they were approaching the mxountainous defiles that 
 led to the cit}^ One of the Americans produced a dingy 
 newspaper containing an account of the battles of Palo 
 Alto and Resaca de la Palma. While we were discussing 
 these matters, the doorway was darkened by a tall, 
 shambling fellow, who stood with his hands in his pockets, 
 taking a leisurely survey of the premises before he en- 
 tered. He wore brown homespun pantaloons, much too 
 short for his legs, and a pistol and Bowie-knife stuck in 
 his belt. His head and one eye w^re enveloped in a huge 
 bandage of white finen. Having completed his observa- 
 tions, he came slouching in, and sat down on a chest. 
 Eight or ten more of the same stamp foUowed, and, very 
 
274 THE OREGON TRAIL 
 
 coolly arranging themselves about the room, began to 
 stare at the company. Shaw and I looked at each other. 
 We were forcibly reminded of the Oregon emigrants, 
 though these unwelcome visitors had a certain glitter of 
 the eye, and a compression of the lips, which distinguished 
 them from our old acquaintances of the prairie. They 
 began to catechise us at once, inquiring whence we had 
 come, what we meant to do next; and what were our 
 future prospects in life. 
 
 The man with the bandaged head had met with an 
 untoward accident a few days before. He was going 
 down to the river to bring water, and was pushing through 
 the young willows which covered the low ground, when 
 he came unawares upon a grizzly bear, which having just 
 eaten a buffalo-bull, had lain down to sleep off the meal. 
 The bear rose on his hind legs, and gave the intruder such 
 a blow with his paw that he laid his forehead entirely 
 bare, clawed off the front of his scalp, and narrowly 
 missed one of his eyes. Fortunately he was not in a very 
 pugnacious mood, being surfeited with his late meal. 
 The man's companions, who were close behind, raised a 
 shout, and the bear walked away, crushing down the 
 willows in his leisurely retreat. 
 
 These men belonged to a party of Mormons, who, out 
 of a well-grounded fear of the other emigrants, had post- 
 poned leaving the settlements until all the rest were 
 gone. On account of this delay they did not reach Fort 
 Laramie until it was too late to continue their journey 
 to California. Hearing that there was good land at the 
 head of the Arkansas, they crossed over under the guid- 
 ance of Richard, and were now preparing to spend the 
 winter at a spot about half a mile from the Pueblo. 
 
 When we took leave of Richard it was near sunset. 
 Passing out of the gate, we could look down the little 
 valley of the Arkansas; a beautiful scene, and doubly so 
 to our eyes, so long accustomed to deserts and mountains. 
 Tall woods lined the river, with green meadows on either 
 hand; and high bluffs, quietly basking in the sunlight, 
 flanked the narrow valley. A Mexican on horseback 
 was driving a herd of cattle toward the gate, and our 
 little white tent, which the men had pitched under a 
 
THE PUEBLO AND BENT'S FORT 275 
 
 large tree in the meadow, made a very pleasing feature 
 in the scene. When we reached it, we found that Richard 
 had sent a Mexican to bring us an abundant supply of 
 green corn and vegetables, and invite us to help ourselves 
 to whatever we wished from the fields around the Pueblo. 
 
 The inhabitants were in daily apprehension of an inroad 
 from more formidable consumers than ourselves. Every 
 year, at. the time when the corn begins to ripen, the 
 Arapahoes, to the number of several thousands, come 
 and encamp around the Pueblo. The handful of white 
 men, who are entirely at the mercy of this swarm of 
 barbarians, choose to make a merit of necessity; they 
 come forward very cordially, shake them by the hand, 
 and intimate that the harvest is entirely at their disposal. 
 The Arapahoes take them at their word, help themselves 
 most liberally, and usually turn their horses into the corn- 
 fields afterward. They have the foresight, however, to 
 leave enough of the crops untouched to serve as an induce- 
 ment for planting the fields again for their benefit in the 
 next spring. 
 
 The human race in this part of the world is separated 
 into three divisions, arranged in the order of their merits : 
 white men, Indians, and Mexicans; to the latter of whom 
 the honorable title of " whites " is by no means conceded. 
 
 In spite of the warm simset of that evening, the next 
 morning was a dreary and cheerless one. It rained stead- 
 ily, clouds resting upon the very tree-tops. We crossed 
 the river to visit the Mormon settlement. As we passed 
 through the water, several trappers on horse-back entered 
 it from the other side. Their buckskin frocks were soaked 
 through by the rain, and clung fast to their limbs with a 
 most clammy and uncomfortable look. The water was 
 trickling down their faces, and dropping from the ends of 
 their rifles and from the traps which each carried at the 
 pommel of his saddle. Horses and all, they had a most 
 disconsolate and woe-begone appearance, which we could 
 not help laughing at, forgetting how often we ourselves 
 had been in a similar plight. 
 
 After half an hour's riding we saw the white wagons 
 of the Mormons drawn up among the trees. Axes were 
 sounding, trees were falling, and log-huts going up along 
 
276 THE OREGON TRAIL 
 
 the edge of the woods and upon the adjoining meadow. 
 As we came up the Mormons left their work and seated 
 themselves on the timber around us, when they began 
 earnestly to discuss points of theology, complain of the 
 ill usage they had received from the '' Gentiles/' and 
 sound a lamentation over the loss of their great temple 
 of Nauvoo. After remaining with them an hour we rode 
 back to our camp, happy that the settlements had been 
 delivered from the presence of such bhnd and desperate 
 fanatics. 
 
 On the morning after this we left the Pueblo for Bent's 
 Fort. The conduct of Raymond had lately been less 
 satisfactory than before, and we had discharged him as 
 soon as we arrived at the former place; so that the party, 
 €)urselves included, was now reduced to four. There was 
 some uncertainty as to our future course. The trail 
 between Bent's Fort and the settlements, a distance 
 computed at six hundred miles, was at this time in a 
 dangerous state; for, since the passage of General Kear- 
 ney's army, great numbers of hostile Indians, chiefly 
 Pawnees and Camanches, had gathered about some parts 
 of it. A little after this time they became so numerous 
 and audacious that scarcely a single party, however 
 large, passed between the fort and the frontier without 
 some token of their hostility. The newspapers of the 
 time sufficiently display this state of things. Many men 
 were killed, and great numbers of horses and mules 
 carried off. Not long since I met with a gentleman, 
 who, during the autumn, came from Santa Fe to Bent's 
 Fort, where he found a party of seventy men, who thought 
 themselves too weak to go down to the settlements alone, 
 and were waiting there for a reinforcement. Though 
 this excessive timidity fully proves the ignorance and 
 creduhty of the men, it may also evince the state of 
 alarm which prevailed in the country. When we were 
 there in the month of August the danger had not become 
 so great. There was nothing very attractive in the 
 neighborhood. We supposed, moreover, that we might 
 wait there half the winter without finding any party to 
 go down with us; for Mr. Sublette and the others whom 
 we had relied upon had, as Richard told us, already left 
 
THE PUEBLO AND BENT'S FORT 277 
 
 Bent's Fort. Thus far on our journey fortune had kindly 
 befriended us. We resolved, therefore, to take advan- 
 tage of her gracious mood, and trusting for a continuance 
 of her favors, to set out with Henr}^ and Delorier, and 
 run the gauntlet of the Indians in the best way we could. 
 
 Bent's Fort stands on the river, about seventy-five 
 miles below the Pueblo. At noon of the third day we 
 arrived within three or four miles of it, pitched our tent 
 under a tree, hung our looking-glasses against its trunk, 
 and having made our primitive toilet, rode toward the 
 fort. We soon came in sight of it, for it is visible from a 
 considerable distance, standing with its high clay walls 
 in the midst of the scorching plains. It seemed as if a 
 swarm of locusts had invaded the country. The grass 
 for miles around was cropped close by the horses of 
 General Kearney's soldiery. When we came to the fort 
 we found that not only had the horses eaten up the grass, 
 but their owners had made way with the stores of the 
 little trading-post; so that we had great difficulty in pro- 
 curing the few articles which we required for our home- 
 ward journey. The army was gone, the life and bustle 
 passed away, and the fort was a scene of dull and lazy 
 tranquillity. A few invalid officers and soldiers sauntered 
 about the area, which was oppressively hot; for the glar- 
 ing sun was reflected down upon it from the high white 
 walls around. The proprietors were absent, and we were 
 received by Mr. Holt, who had been left in charge of the 
 fort. He invited us to dinner, where, to our admiration, 
 w^e found a table laid with a white cloth, with castors in 
 the centre and chairs placed around it. This unwonted 
 repast concluded, we rode back to our camp. 
 
 Here, as we lay smoking round the fire after supper, 
 we saw through the dusk three men approaching from 
 the direction of the fort. They rode up and seated them- 
 selves near, us on the ground. The foremost was a tall, 
 w^ell-formed man, with a face and manner such as inspire 
 confidence at once. He wore a broad hat of felt, slouch- 
 ing and tattered, and the rest of his attire consisted of a 
 frock and leggings of buckskin, rubbed with the yellow 
 clay found among the mountains. At the heel of one of 
 his moccasins was buckled a huge iron spur, with a rowel 
 
278 THE OREGON TRAIL 
 
 five or six inches in diameter. His horse, who stood 
 quietly looking over his head, had a rude Mexican saddle, 
 covered with a shaggy bear-skin, and furnished with a 
 pair of wooden stirrups of most preposterous size. The 
 next man was a sprightly, active little fellow, about five 
 feet and a quarter high, but very strong and compact. 
 His face was swarthy as a Mexican's, and covered with 
 a close, curly, black beard. An old, greasy calico hand- 
 kerchief was tied round his head, and his close buckskin 
 dress was blackened and polished by grease and hard 
 service. The last who came up was a large, strong man, 
 dressed in the coarse homespun of the frontiers, who 
 dragged his long limbs over the ground as if he were too 
 lazy for the effort. He had a sleepy gray eye, a retreat- 
 ing chin, an open mouth, and a protruding upper lip^ 
 which gave him an air of exquisite indolence and help- 
 lessness. He was armed with an old United States yager, 
 which redoubtable weapon, though he could never hit 
 his mark with it, he was accustomed to cherish as the 
 very sovereign of firearms. 
 
 The first two men belonged to a party who had just 
 come from California, with a large band of horses, which 
 they had disposed of at Bent's Fort. Munroe, the taller 
 of the two, was from Iowa. He was an excellent fellow^ 
 open, warm-hearted, and intelligent. Jim Gurney, the 
 short man, was a Boston sailor, who had come in a trading- 
 vessel to California, and taken the fancy to return across 
 the continent. The journey had already made him an ex- 
 pert "mountain man," and he presented the extraordinary 
 phenomenon of a sailor who understood how to manage a 
 horse. The third of our visitors, named Ellis, was a Mis- 
 sourian, who had come out with a party of Oregon emi- 
 grants, but having got as far as Bridger's Fort, he had 
 fallen home-sick, or as Jim averred, love-sick — and Ellis 
 was just the man to be balked in a love adventure. He 
 thought proper, therefore, to join the California men, and 
 return homeward in their company. 
 
 They now requested that they might unite with our 
 party, and make the journey to the settlements in com- 
 pany with us. We readily assented, for we liked the 
 appearance of the first two men, and were very glad to 
 
TETE ROUGE, THE VOLUNTEER 279 
 
 gain so efficient a reinforcement. We told them to meet 
 us on the next evening at a spot on the river side, about 
 six miles below the fort. Having smoked a pipe together, 
 our new allies left us, and we lay down to sleep. 
 
 CHAPTER XXII 
 
 TETE ROUGE, THE VOLUNTEER 
 
 " Ah me ! what evils do environ 
 The man that meddles with cold iron." 
 
 HUDIBRAS. 
 
 The next morning, having directed Delorier to repair 
 with his cart to the place of meeting, we came again to 
 the fort to make some arrangements for the journey. 
 After completing these, we sat down under a sort of 
 porch, to smoke with some Shienne Indians whom we 
 found there. In a few minutes we saw an extraordinary 
 little figure approach us in a military dress. He had a 
 small, round countenance, garnished about the eyes with 
 the kind of w^rinkles commonly known as crow's feet, and 
 surmounted by an abundant crop of red curls, with a 
 little cap resting on the top of them. Altogether, he had 
 the look of a man more conversant with mint-juleps and 
 oyster-suppers than with the hardships of prairie-service. 
 He came up to us and entreated that we would take him 
 home to the settlements, saying that unless he went 
 with us he should have to stay all winter at the fort. 
 We liked our petitioner's appearance so little that we 
 excused ourselves from complying with his request. At 
 this he begged us so hard to take pity on him, looked so 
 disconsolate, and told so lamentable a story, that at last 
 we consented, though not without many misgivings. 
 
 The rugged Anglo-Saxon of our new recruit's real name 
 proved utterly unmanageable on the lips of our French 
 attendants, and Henry Chatillon, after various abortive 
 attempts to pronounce it, one day coolly christened him 
 Tete Rouge, in honor of his red curls. He had at differ- 
 ent times been clerk of a Mississippi steamboat, and agent 
 in a trading establishment at Nauvoo, besides filling vari- 
 
280 THE OREGON TRAIL 
 
 ous other capacities, in all of which he had seen much more 
 of "life" than was good for. him. In the spring, thinking 
 that a summer's campaign would be an agreeable recre- 
 ation, he had joined a company of St. Louis volunteers. 
 
 "There were three of us," said Tete Rouge, "me and 
 Bill Stephens and John Hopkins. We thought we would 
 just go out with the army, and when we had conquered 
 the country, we would get discharged and take our pay, 
 you know, and go down to Mexico. They say there is 
 plenty of fun going on there. Then we could go back to 
 New^ Orleans by way of Vera Cruz." 
 
 But Tete Rouge, like many a stouter volunteer, had 
 reckoned without his host. Fighting Mexicans was a less 
 amusing occupation than he had supposed, and his 
 pleasure-trip was disagreeably interrupted by brain-fever, 
 which attacked him when about half-way to Bent's Fort. 
 He jolted along through the rest of the journey in a 
 baggage-wagon. When they came to the fort he was 
 taken out and left there, together with the rest of the sick. 
 Bent's Fort does not supply the best accommodations for 
 an invalid. Tete Rouge's sick chamber was a little mud 
 room, where he and a companion, attacked by the same 
 disease, were laid together, with nothing but a buffalo- 
 robe between them and the ground. The assistant sur- 
 geon's deputy visited them once a day and brought them 
 each a huge dose of calomel, the only medicine, according 
 to his surviving victim, with which he was acquainted. 
 
 Tete Rouge woke one morning, and, turning to his 
 companion, saw his eyes fixed upon the beams above with 
 the glassy stare of a dead man. At this the unfortunate 
 volunteer lost his senses outright. In spite of the doctor, 
 however, he eventually recovered; though between the 
 brain-fever and the calomel, his mind, originally none of 
 the strongest, was so much shaken that it had not quite 
 recovered its balance when we came to the fort. In spite 
 of the poor fellow's tragic story, there was something so 
 ludicrous in his appearance, and the whimsical contrast 
 between his military dress and his most unmilitary de- 
 meanor, that we could not help smiling at them. We 
 asked him if he had a gun. He said the}^ had taken it 
 from him during his illness, and he had not seen it since; 
 
TETE ROUGE, THE VOLUNTEER 281 
 
 ''but perhaps/' he observed, looking at me with a beseeching 
 air, '^ you will lend me one of your big pistols if we should 
 meet with any Indians." I next inquired if he had a horse ; 
 he declared he had a magnificent one, and at Shaw's 
 request, a Mexican led him in for inspection. He ex- 
 hibited the outline of a good horse, but his eyes were sunk 
 in the sockets, and every one of his ribs could be counted. 
 There were certain marks, too, about his shoulders, which 
 could be accounted -for by the circumstance that, during 
 Tete Rouge's illness, his companions had seized upon the 
 insulted charger, and harnessed him to a cannon along 
 with the draft horses. To Tete Rouge's astonishment, 
 we recommended him by all means to exchange the horse, 
 if he could, for a mule. Fortunately the people at the 
 fort were so anxious to get rid of him that the}" were will- 
 ing to make some sacrifice to effect the object, and he 
 succeeded in getting a tolerable mule in exchange for the 
 broken-down steed. 
 
 A man soon appeared at the gate, leading in the mule 
 by a cord, which he placed in the hands of Tete Rouge, 
 who, being somewhat afraid of his new acquisition, tried 
 various flatteries and blandishments to induce her to 
 come forward. The mule, knowing that she was expected 
 to advance, stopped short in consequence, and stood fast 
 as a rock, looking straight forward with immovable com- 
 posure. Being stimulated by a blow from behind, she 
 consented to move, and walked nearly to the other side 
 of the fort before she stopped again. Hearing the by- 
 standers laugh, Tete Rouge plucked up spirit and tugged 
 hard at the rope. The mule jerked backward, spun herself 
 round, and made a dash for the gate. Tete Rouge, who 
 clung manfully to the rope, went whisking through the 
 air for a few rods, when he let go and stood with his mouth 
 open, staring after the mule, who galloped away over the 
 prairie. She was soon . caught and brought back by a 
 Mexican, who mounted a horse and went in pursuit of 
 her with his lasso. 
 
 Having thus displayed his capacities for prairie travel- 
 ling, Tete proceeded to supply himself with provisions 
 for the journey, and with this view he applied to a quarter- 
 master's assistant who was in the fort. This official had 
 
282 THE OREGON TRAIL 
 
 a face as sour as vinegar, being in a state of chronic in- 
 dignation because he had been left behind the army> 
 He was as anxious as the rest to get rid of Tete Rouge, 
 So, producing a rusty key, he opened a low door which led 
 to a half-subterranean apartment, into which the twO' 
 disappeared together. After some time they came out 
 again, Tete Rouge greatly embarrassed by a multiplicity 
 of paper parcels containing the different articles of his 
 forty days' rations. They were consigned to the care of 
 Delorier, who about that time passed by with the cart 
 on his way to the appointed place of meeting with Munroe 
 and his companions. 
 
 We next urged Tete Rouge to provide himself, if he 
 could, with a gun. He accordingly made earnest appeals, 
 to the charity of various persons in the fort, but totally 
 without success, a circumstance which did not greatly 
 disturb us, since, in the event of a skirmish, he would be 
 much more apt to do mischief to himself or his friends 
 than to the enemy. When all these arrangements were 
 completed we saddled our horses, and were preparing to 
 leave the fort, when, looking around, we discovered that 
 our new associate was in fresh trouble. A man was holding 
 the mule for him in the middle of the fort, while he tried 
 to put the saddle on her back, but she kept stepping 
 sideways and moving round and round in a circle, until 
 he was almost in despair. It required some assistance 
 before all his difficulties could be overcome. At length, 
 he clambered into the black war-saddle on which he was 
 to have carried terror into the ranks of the Mexicans. 
 
 "Get up!" said Tete Rouge; "come now, go along, will 
 you?" 
 
 The mule walked deliberately forward out of the gate. 
 Her recent conduct had inspired him with so much awe 
 that he never dared to touch her with his whip. We 
 trotted forward toward the place of meeting, but before 
 we had gone far we saw that Tete Rouge's mule, who 
 perfectly understood her rider, had stopped and was 
 quietly grazing, in spite of his protestations, at some 
 distance behind. So, getting behind him, we drove him 
 and the contumacious mule before us, until we could see 
 through the twilight the gleaming of a distant fire. Mun- 
 
INDIAN ALARMS 283 
 
 roe, Jim, and Ellis were lying around it; their saddles, 
 packs, and weapons were scattered about and their horses 
 picketed near them. Delorier was there, too, with our 
 little cart. Another fire was soon blazing high. We in- 
 vited out new allies to take a cup of coffee Avith us. When 
 both the others had gone over to their side of the camp, 
 Jim Gurney still stood by the blaze, puffing hard at his 
 little black pipe, as short and weather-beaten as himself. 
 ''Well!" he said, ''here are eight of us; we'll call it 
 six — for them two boobies, Ellis over yonder, and that 
 new man of yours, won't count for anything. We'll get 
 through well enough, never fear for that, unless the 
 Camanches happen to get foul of us." 
 
 CHAPTER XXIII 
 
 INDIAN ALARMS 
 
 "To all the sensual world proclaim, 
 One crowded hour of glorious life 
 Were worth an age without a name." — Scott. 
 
 We began our journey for the frontier settlements on 
 the twenty-seventh of August, and certainly a more 
 ragamuffin cavalcade -never was seen on the banks of the 
 "Upper Arkansas. Of the large and fine horses with which 
 we had left the frontier in the spring, not one remained: 
 we had supplied their place with the rough breed of the 
 prairie, as hardy as mules and almost as ugly; we had also 
 with us a number of the latter detestable animals. In 
 spite of their strength and hardihood, several of the band 
 were already worn down by hard service and hard fare, 
 and as none of them were shod, they were fast becoming 
 foot-sore. Every horse and mule had a cord of twisted 
 bull-hide coiled around his neck, which by no means 
 added to the beauty of his appearance. Our saddles and 
 all our equipments were by this time lamentably worn and 
 battered, and our weapons had become dull and rusty. 
 The dress of the riders fully corresponded with the di- 
 lapidated furniture of our horses, and of the whole party 
 none made a more disreputable appearance than my 
 
284 THE OREGON TRAIL 
 
 friend and I. Shaw had for an upper garment an old red 
 flannel shirt, flying open in front, and belted around him 
 like a frock; while I, in absence of other clothing, was 
 attired in a time-worn suit of leather. 
 
 Thus, happy and careless as so many beggars, we crept 
 slowly from day to day along the monotonous banks of 
 the Arkansas. Tete Rouge gave constant trouble, for he 
 could never catch his mule, saddle her, or, indeed, do 
 anything else without assistance. Every day he had some 
 new ailment, real or imaginary, to complain of. At one 
 moment he would be woe-begone and disconsolate, and 
 at the next he would be visited with a violent flow of 
 spirits, to which he could only give vent by incessant 
 laughing, whistling, and telling stories. When other 
 resources failed we used to amuse ourselves by tormenting 
 him ; a fair compensation for the trouble he cost us. Tete 
 Rouge rather enjoyed being laughed at, for he was an 
 odd compound of weakness, eccentricity, and good nature. 
 He made a figure worthy of a painter as he paced along 
 before us, perched on the back of his mule, and enveloped 
 in a huge buffalo-robe coat, which some charitable person 
 had given him at the fort. This extraordinary garment, 
 which would have contained two men of his size, he 
 chose, for some reason best known to himself, to wear 
 inside out, and he never took it off, even in the hottest 
 weather. It was fluttering all over with seams and 
 tatters, and the hide was so old and rotten that it broke 
 out every day in a new place. Just at the top of it a large 
 pile of red curls was visible, with his little cap set jauntily 
 upon one side, to give him a military air. His seat in the 
 saddle was no less remarkable than his person and equip- 
 ment. He pressed one leg close against his mule's side, 
 and thrust the other out at an angle of forty-five degrees. 
 His pantaloons were decorated with a military red stripe, 
 of which he was extremely vain; but being much too short, 
 the whole length of his boots was usually visible below 
 them. His blanket, loosely rolled up into a large bundle, 
 dangled at the back of his saddle, where he carried it tied 
 with a string. Four or five times a day it would fall to 
 the ground. Every few minutes he would drop his pipe, 
 his knife, his flint and steel, or a piece of tobacco, and 
 
I 
 
 INDIAN ALARMS 285 
 
 have to scramble down to pick them up. In doing this 
 he would contrive to get in everybody's way; and as the 
 most of the party were by no means remarkable for a 
 fastidious choice of language, a storm of anathemas would 
 be showered upon him, half in earnest and half in jest, 
 until Tete Rouge would declare that there was no comfort 
 in life, and that he never saw such fellows before. 
 
 Only a day or two after leaving Bent's Fort, Henry 
 Chatillon rode forward to hunt, and took Ellis along with 
 him. After they had been some time absent we saw 
 them coming down the hill, driving three dragoon-horses, 
 which had escaped from their owners on the march, or 
 perhaps had given out and been abandoned. One of them 
 was in tolerable condition, but the others were much 
 emaciated and severely bitten by the wolves. Reduced 
 as they were, we carried two of them to the settlements, 
 and Henry exchanged the third with the Arapahoes for 
 an excellent mule. 
 
 On the day after, when we had stopped to rest at 
 noon, a long train of Santa Fe wagons came up and 
 trailed slowly past us in their picturesque procession. 
 They belonged to a trader named Magoffin, whose brother, 
 with a number of other men, came over and sat down 
 around us on the grass. The news they brought was not 
 of the most pleasing complexion. According to their 
 accounts the trail below was in a very dangerous state. 
 They had repeatedly detected Indians prowling at night 
 around their camps; and the large party which had left 
 Bent's Fort a few weeks previous to our own departure 
 had been attacked, and a man named Swan, from Massa- 
 chusetts, had been killed. His companions had buried 
 the body; but when Magoffin found his grave, which was 
 near a place called "The Caches," the Indians had dug 
 up and scalped him, and the wolves had shockingly 
 mangled his remains. As an offset to this intelligence, 
 they gave us the welcome information that the buffalo 
 were numerous at a few days' journey below. 
 
 On the next afternoon, as we moved along the bank of 
 the river, we saw the white tops of wagons on the horizon. 
 It was some hours before we met them, when they proved 
 to be a train of clumsy ox-wagons, quite different from 
 
286 THE OREGON TRAIL 
 
 the rakish vehicles of the Santa Fe traders, and loaded 
 with government stores for the troops. They all stopped, 
 and the drivers gathered around us in a crowd. I thought 
 that the whole frontier might have been ransacked in 
 vain to furnish men worse fitted to meet the dangers of 
 the prairie. Many of them were mere boys, fresh from 
 the plough, and devoid of knowledge and experience. In 
 respect to the state of the trail, they confirmed all that 
 the Santa Fe men had told us. In passing between the 
 Pawnee Fork and "The Caches,'^ their sentinels had 
 fired every night at real or imaginary Indians. They said 
 also that Ewing, a young Kentuckian in the party that 
 had gone down before us, had shot an Indian who was 
 prowling at evening about the camp. Some of them 
 advised us to turn back, and others to hasten forward as 
 fast as we could; but they all seemed in such a state of 
 feverish anxiety, and so little capable of cool j-udgment, 
 that we attached slight weight to what they said. They 
 next gave us a more definite piece of intelligence; a large 
 village of Arapahoes was encamped on the river below. 
 They represented them to be quite friendly; but some 
 distinction was to be made between a party of thirty men, 
 travelling with oxen, which are of no value in an Indian's 
 eyes, and a mere handful like ourselves, with a tempting 
 band of mules and horses. This story of the Arapahoes, 
 therefore, caused us some anxiety. 
 
 Just after leaving the government wagons, as Shaw 
 and I were riding along a narrow passage between the 
 river-bank and a rough hill that pressed close upon it, 
 we heard Tete Rouge's voice behind us. " Halloo ! " 
 he called out; "I say, stop the cart just for a minute, will 
 you?" 
 
 "What's the matter, Tete?" asked Shaw, as he came 
 riding up to us with a grin of exultation. He had a bottle 
 of molasses in one hand, and a large bundle of hides on the 
 saddle before him, containing, as he triumphantly in- 
 formed us, sugar, biscuits, coffee, and rice. These supplies 
 he had obtained by a stratagem on which he greatly 
 plumed himself, and he was extremely vexed and aston- 
 ished that we did not fall in with his views of the matter. 
 He had told Coates, the master-wagoner, that the com- 
 
INDIAN ALARMS 287 
 
 missary at the fort had given him an order for sick- 
 rations, directed to the master of any government train 
 which he might meet upon the road. This order he had 
 unfortunately lost, but he hoped that the rations would 
 not be refused on that account, as he was suffering from 
 coarse fare and needed them very much. As soon as he 
 came to camp that night, Tete Rouge repaired to the box 
 at the back of the cart, where Delorier used to keep his 
 culinary apparatus, took possession of a saucepan, and 
 after building a little fire of his own, set to work preparing 
 a meal out of his ill-gotten booty. This done, he seized 
 upon a tin plate and spoon, and sat down under the cart 
 to regale himself. His preliminary repast did not at all 
 prejudice his subsequent exertions at supper; where, in 
 spite of his miniature dimensions, he made a better figure 
 than any of us. Indeed, about this time his appetite grew 
 quite voracious. He began to thrive wonderfully. His 
 small body visibly expanded, and his cheeks, which when 
 we first took him were rather yellow and cadaverous, now 
 dilated in a wonderful manner, and became ruddy in pro- 
 portion. Tete Rouge, in short, began to appear like 
 another man. 
 
 Early in the afternoon of the next day, looking along 
 the edge of the horizon in front, we saw that at one point 
 it was faintly marked with pale indentations, like the 
 teeth of a saw. The lodges of the Arapahoes, rising 
 between us and the sky, caused this singular appearance. 
 It wanted still two or three hours of sunset when we came 
 opposite their camp. There were full two hundred lodges 
 standing in the midst of a grassy meadow at some dis- 
 tance beyond the river, while for a mile around and on 
 either bank of the Arkansas were scattered some fifteen 
 hundred horses and mules, grazing together in bands, or 
 wandering singly about the prairie. The whole were visible 
 at once, for the vast expanse was unbroken by hills, and 
 there was not a tree or a bush to intercept the view. 
 
 Here and there walked an Indian, engaged in watching 
 the horses. No sooner did we see them than Tete Rouge 
 begged Delorier to stop the cart and hand him his little 
 military jacket, which was stowed away there. In this 
 he instantly invested himself, having for once laid the old 
 
288 THE OREGON TRAIL 
 
 buffalo coat aside, assumed a most martial posture in the 
 saddle, set his cap over his left eye with an air of defi- 
 ance, and earnestly entreated that somebody would lend 
 him a gun or a pistol only for half an hour. Being called 
 upon to explain these remarkable proceedings, Tete 
 Rouge observed that he knew from experience what 
 effect the presence of a military man in his uniform always 
 had upon the mind of an Indian, and he thought the 
 Arapahoes ought to know that there was a soldier in the 
 party. 
 
 Meeting Arapahoes here on the Arkansas w^as a very 
 different thing from meeting the same Indians among 
 their native mountains. There was another circum- 
 stance in our favor. General Kearney had seen them a 
 few weeks before, as he came up the river with his army, 
 and renewing his threats of the previous year, he told 
 them that if they ever again touched the hair of a white 
 man's head he would exterminate their nation. This 
 placed them for the time in an admirable frame of mind, 
 and the effect of his menaces had not yet disappeared. 
 I was anxious to see the village and its inhabitants. We 
 thought it also our best policy to visit them openly, as if 
 unsuspicious of any hostile design; and Shaw and I, with 
 Henry Chatillon, prepared to cross the river. The rest of 
 the party meanwhile moved forward as fast as they could, 
 in order to get as far as possible from our suspicious neigh- 
 bors before night came on. 
 
 The Arkansas at this point, and for several hundred 
 miles below, is nothing but a broad sand-bed, over which 
 a few scanty threads of water are swiftly gliding, now and 
 then expanding into w^ide shallows. At several places, 
 during the autumn, the water sinks into the sand and 
 disappears altogether. At this season, were it not for 
 the numerous quicksands, the river might be forded 
 almost anywhere without difficulty, though its channel 
 is often a quarter of a mile w^ide. Our horses jumped 
 down the bank, and wading through the water, or gallop- 
 ing freely over the hard sand-beds, soon reached the other 
 side. Here, as we were pushing through the tall grass, 
 we saw several Indians not far off; one of them waited 
 until we came up, and stood for some moments in perfect 
 
INDIAN ALARMS 289 
 
 silence before us, looking at us askance with his little 
 snake-like eyes. Henry explained by signs what we 
 wanted, and the Indian, gathering his buffalo-robe about 
 his shoulders, led the way toward the village without 
 speaking a word. 
 
 The language of the Arapahoes is so difficult, and its 
 pronunciation so harsh and guttural, that no white man, 
 it is said, has ever been able to master it. Even Maxwell, 
 the trader, who has been most among them, is compelled 
 to resort to the curious sign-language common to most 
 of the prairie-tribes. With this Henry Chatillon was 
 perfectly acquainted. 
 
 Approaching the village, we found the ground all around 
 it strewn with great piles of waste buffalo-meat in incredi- 
 ble quantities. The lodges were pitched in a very wide 
 circle. They resembled those of the Dahcotah in every- 
 thing but cleanliness and neatness. Passing between 
 two of them, we entered the great circular area of the 
 camp, and instantly hundreds of Indians — men, women, 
 and children — came flocking out of their habitations to 
 look at us; at the same time the dogs all around the vil- 
 lage set up a fearful baying. Our Indian guide walked 
 toward the lodge of the chief. Here we dismounted; and 
 loosening the trail-ropes from our horses' necks, held them 
 securely, and sat down before the entrance, with our 
 rifles laid across our laps. The chief came out and shook 
 us by the hand. He was a mean-looking fellow, very tall, 
 thin-visaged, and sinewy, like the rest of the nation, and 
 with scarcely a vestige of clothing. We had not been 
 seated half a minute before a multitude of Indians came 
 crowding around us from every part of the village, and 
 we were shut in by a dense wall of savage faces. Some of 
 the Indians crouched around us on the ground; others 
 again sat behind them; others, stooping, looked over 
 their heads; while many more stood crowded behind, 
 stretching themselves upward, and peering over each 
 other's shoulders, to get a view of us. I looked in vain 
 among this multitude of faces to discover one manly or 
 generous expression; all were wolfish, sinister, and mahg- 
 nant, and their complexions, as well as their features, 
 unlike those of the Dahcotah, were exceedingly bad. 
 
290 THE OREGON TRAIL 
 
 The chief, who sat close to the entrance, called to a squaw 
 within the lodge, who soon came out and placed a wooden 
 bowl of meat before us. To our surprise, however, no 
 pipe was offered. Having tasted of the meat as a matter 
 of form, I began to open a bundle of presents— tobacco, 
 knives, vermilion, and other articles which I had brought 
 with me. At this there was a grin on every countenance 
 in the rapacious crowd; their eyes began to glitter, and 
 long, thin arms were eagerly stretched toward us on all 
 sides to receive the gifts. 
 
 The Arapahoes set great value upon their shields, 
 which they transmit carefully from father to son. I 
 wished to get one of them; and displaying a large piece 
 of scarlet cloth, together with some tobacco and a knife, I 
 offered them to anyone who would bring me what I wanted. 
 After some delay a tolerable shield was produced. They 
 were very anxious to know what we meant to do with it, 
 and Henry told them that we were going to fight their 
 enemies, the Pawnees. This instantly produced a visible 
 impression in our favor, which was increased by the 
 distribution of the presents. Among these was a large 
 paper of awls, a gift appropriate to the women; and as 
 we were anxious to see the beauties of the Arapahoe 
 village, Henry requested that they might be called to 
 receive them. A warrior gave a shout, as if he were call- 
 ing a pack of dogs together. The squaws, young and old, 
 hags of eighty and girls of sixteen, came running with 
 screams and laughter out of the lodges; and as the men 
 gave way for them, they gathered around us and stretched 
 out their arms, grinning with dehght, their native ugliness 
 considerably enhanced by the excitement of the moment. 
 
 Mounting our horses, which during the whole inter- 
 view we had held close to us, we prepared to leave the 
 Arapahoes. The crowd fell back on each side, and stood 
 looking on. When we were half-across the camp an idea 
 occurred to us. The Pawnees were probably in the 
 neighborhood of '' The Caches " ; we might tell the Arapa- 
 hoes of this, and instigate them to send down a war-party 
 and cut them off, while we ourselves could remain behind 
 for a while and hunt the buffalo. At first thought this 
 plan of setting our enemies to destroy one another seemed 
 
INDIAN ALARMS 291 
 
 to us a masterpiece of policy; but we immediately recol- 
 lected that, should we meet the Arapahoe warriors on 
 the river below, they might prove quite as dangerous as 
 the Pawnees themselves. So, rejecting our plan as soon 
 as it presented itself, we passed out of the village on the 
 farther side. We urged our horses rapidly through the 
 tall grass, which rose to their necks. Several Indians 
 were walking through it at a distance, their heads just 
 visible above its waving surface. It bore a kind of seed^ 
 as sweet and nutritious as oats; and our hungry horses, 
 in spite of whip and rein, could not resist the temptation 
 of snatching at this unwonted luxury as we passed along. 
 When about a mile from the village, I turned and looked 
 back over the undulating ocean of grass. The sun was 
 just set; the western sky was all in a glow, and sharply 
 defined against it, on the extreme verge of the plain, 
 stood the numerous lodges of the Arapahoe camp. 
 
 Reaching the bank of the river, we followed it for 
 some distance farther, until we discerned through the 
 twilight the white covering of our little cart on the oppo- 
 site bank. When we reached it we found a considerable 
 number of Indians there before us. Four or five of them 
 were seated in a row upon the ground, looking like so 
 many half-starved vultures. Tete Rouge, in his uniform, 
 was holding a close colloquy with another by the side of 
 the cart. His gesticulations, his attempts at sign-making 
 and the contortions of his countenance, were most ludi- 
 crous; and finding all these of no avail, he tried to make 
 the Indian understand him by repeating English words 
 very loudly and distinctly again and again. The Indian 
 sat with his eye fixed steadily upon him, and in spite of 
 the rigid immobility of his features, it was clear at a 
 glance that he perfectly understood his military com- 
 panion's character and thoroughly despised him. The 
 exhibition was more amusing than politic, and Tete 
 Rouge was directed to finish what he had to say as soon 
 as possible. Thus rebuked, he crept under the cart and 
 sat down there; Henry Chatillon stooped to look at him 
 in his retirement, and remarked in his quiet manner that 
 an Indian would kill ten such men and laugh all the time. 
 
 One by one our visitors arose and stalked away. As 
 
292 THE OREGON TRAIL 
 
 the darkness thickened we were saluted by dismal sounds. 
 The wolves are incredibly numerous in this part of the 
 country, and the offal around the Arapahoe camp had 
 drawn such multitudes of them together that several 
 hundreds were howling in concert in our immediate 
 neighborhood. There was an island in the river, or rather 
 an oasis in the midst of the sands, at about the distance 
 of a gun-shot, and here they seemed gathered in the great- 
 est numbers. A horrible discord of low, mournful wail- 
 ings, mingled with ferocious howls, arose from it inces- 
 santly for several hours after sunset. We could distinctly 
 see the wolves running about the prairie within a few 
 rods of our fire, or bounding over the sand-beds of the 
 river and splashing through the water. There was not 
 the slightest danger to be feared from them, for they 
 are the greatest cowards on the prairie. 
 
 In respect to the human wolves in our neighborhood 
 we felt much less at our ease. We seldom erected our 
 tent except in bad Aveather, and that night each man 
 spread his buffalo-robe upon the ground, with his loaded 
 rifle laid at his side or clasped in his arms. Our horses 
 Avere picketed so close around us that one of them repeat- 
 edly stepped over me as I lay. We were not in the habit 
 of placing a guard, but every man that night was anxious 
 and w^atchful; there was little sound sleeping in camp, 
 and some one of the party was on his feet during the 
 greater jDart of the time. For myself, I lay alternately 
 waking and dozing until midnight. Tete Rouge was 
 reposing close to the river-bank, and about this time, 
 when half-asleep and half-awake, I was conscious that 
 he shifted his position and crept on all-fours under the 
 cart. Soon after I fell into a sound sleep, from which I 
 was aroused by a hand shaking me by the shoulder. 
 Looking up, I saw Tete Rouge stooping over me with his 
 face quite pale and his eyes dilated to their utmost 
 expansion. 
 
 ''What's the matter?" said I. 
 
 Tete Rouge declared that as he lay on the river-bank 
 something caught his eye which excited his suspicions. 
 So, creeping under the cart for safety's sake, he sat there 
 and watched, when he saw two Indians, wrapped in white 
 
THE CHASE 293 
 
 robes, creep up the bank, seize upon two horses, and 
 lead them off. He looked so frightened and told his 
 story in such a disconnected manner that I did not be- 
 lieve him, and was unwilhng to alarm the party. Still 
 it might be true, and in that case the matter required 
 instant attention. There would me no time for examina- 
 tion, and so directing Tete Rouge to show me which way 
 the Indians had gone, I took my rifle, in obedience to a 
 thoughtless impulse, and left the camp. I followed the 
 river back for two or three hundred yards, listening and 
 looking anxiously on every side. In the dark prairie on 
 the right I could discern nothing to excite alarm; and in 
 the dusky bed of the river a wolf was bounding along in 
 a manner which no Indian could imitate. I returned to 
 the camp, and when within sight of it saw that the whole 
 party was aroused. Shaw called out to me that he had 
 counted the horses, and that every one of them was in 
 his place. Tete Rouge, being examined as to what he 
 had seen, only repeated his former story with many 
 asseverations, and insisted that two horses were certainly 
 carried off. At this Jim Gurney declared that he was 
 crazy; Tete Rouge indignantly denied the charge, on 
 which Jim appealed to us. As we declined to give our 
 judgment on so delicate a matter, the dispute grew hot 
 between Tete Rouge and his accuser, until he was directed 
 to go to bed and not alarm the camp again if he saw the 
 whole Arapahoe village coming. 
 
 CHAPTER XXIV 
 
 THE CHASE 
 
 "Mightiest of all the beasts of chase, 
 That roam in woody Caledon, 
 Crashing the forest in his race, 
 
 The mountain Bull comes thundering on.*' 
 
 Cadyow Castle. 
 
 The country before us was now thronged with buffalo, 
 and a sketch of the manner of hunting them will not be 
 out of place. There are two methods commonly prac- 
 tised — "running" and '^approaching." The chase on 
 
294 THE OREGON TRAIL 
 
 horseback, which goes by the name of "running/' is the 
 more violent and dashing of the two. Indeed, of all 
 American wild sports this is the wildest. Once among 
 the buffalo, the hunter, unless long use has made him 
 familiar with the situation, dashes forward in utter reck- 
 lessness and self-abandonment. He thinks of nothing, 
 cares for nothing, but the game; his mind is stimulated 
 to the highest pitch, yet intensely concentrated on one 
 object. In the midst of the flying herd, where the uproar 
 and the dust are thickest, it never wavers for a moment; 
 he drops the rein and abandons his horse to his furious 
 career; he levels his gun, the report sounds faint amid the 
 thunder of the buffalo; and when his wounded enemy 
 leaps in vain fury upon him, his heart thrills with a feeling 
 like the fierce delight of the battlefield. A practised and 
 skilful hunter, well mounted, will sometimes kill five or 
 six cows in a single chase, loading his gun again and again 
 as his horse rushes through the tumult. An exploit like 
 this is quite beyond the capacities of a novice. In attack- 
 ing a small band of buffalo, or in separating a single animal 
 from the herd and assailing it apart from the rest, there is 
 less excitement and less danger. With a bold and well- 
 trained horse the hunter may ride so close to the buffalo 
 that, as they gallop side by side, he may reach over and 
 touch him with his hand; nor is there much danger in 
 this as long as the buffalo's strength and breath continue 
 unabated; but when he becomes tired and can no longer 
 run with ease, when his tongue lolls out and the foam 
 flies from his jaws, then the hunter had better keep a more 
 respectful distance; the distressed brute may turn upon 
 him at any instant; and especially at the moment when 
 he fires his gun. The wounded buffalo springs at his 
 enemy ; the horse leaps violently aside ; and then the hunter 
 has need of a tenacious seat in the saddle, for if he is 
 thrown to the ground there is no hope for him. When 
 he sees his attack defeated the buffalo resumes his flight, 
 but if the shot be well directed he soon stops; for a few 
 moments he stands still, then totters and falls heavily 
 upon the prairie. 
 
 The chief difficulty in running buffalo, as it seems to 
 me, is that of loading the gun or pistol at full gallop. 
 
THE CHASE 295 
 
 Many hunters, for convenience^ sake, carry three or four 
 bullets in the mouth; the powder is poured down the 
 muzzle of the piece, the bullet dropped in after it, the 
 stock struck hard upon the pummel of the saddle, and 
 the work is done. The danger of this method is obvious. 
 Should the blow on the pommel fail to send the bullet 
 home, or should the latter, in the act of aiming, start from 
 its place and roll toward the muzzle, the gun would 
 probably burst in discharging. Many a shattered hand 
 and worse casualties besides have been the result of such 
 an accident. To obviate it, some hunters make use of a 
 ramrod, usually hung by a string from the neck, but this 
 materially increases the difficulty of loading. The bows 
 and arrows which the Indians use in running buffalo have 
 many advantages over fire-arms, and even white men 
 occasionally employ them. 
 
 The danger of the chase arises not so much from the 
 onset of the wounded animal as from the nature of the 
 ground over which the hunter must ride. The prairie does 
 not always present a smooth, level, and uniform surface; 
 very often it is broken with hills and hollows, intersected 
 by ravines, and in the remoter parts studded by the stiff 
 wild-sage bushes. The most formidable obstructions, 
 however, are the burrows of wild animals — wolves, bad- 
 gers, and particularly prairie-dogs — with whose holes the 
 ground for a very great extent is frequently honey- 
 combed. In the blindness of the chase the hunter rushes 
 over it unconscious of danger; his horse, at full career, 
 thrusts his leg deep into one of the burrows; the bone 
 snaps, the rider is hurled forward to the ground andt' 
 probably killed. Yet, accidents in buffalo running hap- 
 pen less frequently than one would suppose; in the reck- 
 lessness of the chase the hunter enjoys all the impunity 
 of a drunken man, and may ride in safety over the gullies 
 and declivities, where, should he attempt to pass in his 
 sober senses, he would infallibly break his neck. 
 
 The method of '^ approaching," being practised on foot, 
 has many advantages over that of "running"; in the 
 former, one neither breaks down his horse nor endangers 
 his own life ; instead of yielding to excitement, he must be 
 cool, collected, and watchful; he must understand the 
 
296 THE OREGON TRAIL 
 
 buffalo, observe the features of the country and the 
 course of the wind, and be well skilled, moreover, in using; 
 the rifle. The buffalo are strange animals; sometimes 
 they are so stupid and infatuated that a man may walk 
 up to them in full sight on the open prairie, and even 
 shoot several of their number before the rest will think it 
 necessary to retreat. Again, at another moment, they will 
 be so shy and wary that in order to approach them the 
 utmost skill, experience, and judgment are necessary. 
 Kit Carson, I believe, stands pre-eminent in running 
 buffalo; in approaching, no man living can bear away the 
 palm from Henry Chatillon. 
 
 To resume the story. After Tete Rouge had alarmed 
 the camp, no further disturbance occurred during the 
 night. The Arapahoes did not attempt mischief, or if 
 they did the wakefulness of the party deterred them from 
 effecting their purpose. The next day was one of activity 
 and excitement, for about ten o'clock the man in advance 
 shouted the gladdening cry of buffalo! buffalo! and in the 
 hollow of the prairie just below us, a band of bulls were 
 grazing. The temptation was irresistible, and Shaw and 
 I rode down upon them. We were badly mounted on our 
 travelling horses, but by hard lashing we overtook them, 
 and Shaw, running alongside of a bull, shot into him both 
 balls of his double-barrelled gun. Looking around as I 
 galloped past I saw the bull in his mortal fury rushing 
 again and again upon his antagonist, whose horse con- 
 stantly leaped aside, and avoided the onset. My chase 
 was more protracted, but at length I ran close to the 
 bull and killed him with my pistols. Cutting off the tails 
 of our victims by way of trophy, we rejoined the party 
 in about a quarter of an hour after we left it. Again 
 and again that morning rang out the same welcome cry 
 of buffalo! buffalo! Every few moments, in the broad 
 meadows along the river, we would see bands of bulls, 
 who, raising their shaggy heads, would gaze in stupid 
 amazement at the approaching horsemen, and then 
 breaking into a clumsy gallop, would file off in a long line 
 across the trail in front, toward the rising prairie on the 
 left. At noon the whole plain before us was alive with 
 thousands of buffalo — bulls, cows, and calves — all moving 
 
THE CHASE 297 
 
 rapidly as we drew near; and far-off beyond the river the 
 swelhng prairie was darkened with them to the very 
 horizon. The party was in gayer spirits than ever. We 
 stopped for a "nooning" near a grove of trees by the 
 river-side. 
 
 '^Tongues and hump-ribs to-morrow^/' said Shaw, look- 
 ing with contempt at the venison steaks which Delorier 
 placed before us. Our meal finished, we lay down under 
 a temporary awning to sleep. A shout from Henry Cha- 
 tillon aroused us, and we saw him standing on the cart- 
 wheel, stretching his tall figure to its full height while he 
 looked toward the prairie beyond the river. Following 
 the direction of his eyes, we could clearly distinguish a 
 large dark object, like the black shadow of a cloud, passing 
 rapidly over swell after swell of the distant plain; behind 
 it followed another of similar appearance, though smaller. 
 Its motion was more rapid, and it drew closer and closer 
 to the first. It was the hunters of the Arapahoe camp 
 pursuing a band of buffalo. Shaw and I hastily caught 
 and saddled our best horses, and went plunging through 
 sand and water to the farther bank. We were too late. 
 The hunters had already mingled with the herd, and the 
 work of slaughter was nearly over. When we reached 
 the ground we found it strewn far and near with number- 
 less black carcasses, while the remnants of the herd, 
 scattered in all directions, were flying away in terror, and 
 the Indians still rushing in pursuit. Many of the hunters, 
 however, remained upon the spot, and among the rest was 
 our yesterday's acquaintance, the chief of the village. 
 He had alighted by the side of a cow, into which he had 
 shot five or six arrows, and his squaw, who had followed 
 him on horseback to the hunt, was giving him a draught 
 of water out of a canteen, purchased or plundered from 
 some volunteer soldier. Recrossing the river, we overtook 
 the party, who were already on their way. 
 
 W^e had scarcely gone a mile when an imposing spectacle 
 presented itself. From the river-bank on the right, away 
 over the swelling prairie on the left, and in front as far as 
 we could see, extended one vast host of buffalo. The 
 outskirts of the herd were within a quarter of a mile. In 
 many parts they were crowded so densely together that 
 
298 THE OREGON TRAIL 
 
 in the distance their rounded backs presented a surface of 
 uniform blackness; but elsewhere they were more scat- 
 tered, and from amid the multitude rose little columns of 
 dust where the buffalo were rolling on the ground. Here 
 and there a great confusion was perceptible, where a 
 battle was going forward among the bulls. We could 
 distinctly see them rushing against each other, and hear 
 the clattering of their horns and their hoarse bellowing. 
 Shaw was riding at some distance in advance with Henry 
 Chatillon. I saw him stop and draw the leather covering 
 from his gun. Indeed, with such a sight before us, but 
 one thing could be thought of. That morning I had used 
 pistols in the chase. I had now a mind to try the virtue 
 of a gun. Delorier had one, and I rode up to the side of 
 the cart ; there he sat under the white covering, biting his 
 pipe between his teeth and grinning with excitement. 
 
 " Lend me your gun, Delorier,^' said I. 
 
 ''Oui, Monsieur, oui,'' said Delorier, tugging with might 
 and main to stop the mule, which seemed obstinately bent 
 on going forward. Then everything but his moccasins 
 disappeared as he crawled into the cart and pulled at the 
 gun to extricate it. 
 
 "Is it loaded?" I asked. 
 
 "Oui, bien charge, you'll kill, mon bourgeois; yes, you'll 
 kill — c'est un bon fusil." 
 
 I handed him my rifle and rode forward to Shaw. 
 
 "Are you ready?" he asked. 
 
 "Come on," said I. 
 
 "Keep down that hollow," said Henry, "and then the}^ 
 won't see you till you get close to them." 
 
 The hollow was a kind of ravine, very wide and shallow ; 
 it ran obliquely toward the buffalo, and we rode at a 
 canter along the bottom until it became too shallow; 
 when we bent close to our horses' necks, and then finding 
 that it could no longer conceal us, came out of it and rode 
 directly toward the herd. It was within gun-shot; before 
 its outskirts numerous grizzly old bulls were scattered, 
 holding guard over their females. They glared at us in 
 anger and astonishment, walked toward us a few yards, 
 and then turning slowly around retreated at a trot, which 
 afterward broke into a clumsy gallop. In an instant the 
 
THE CHASE 299 
 
 main body caught the alarm. The buffalo began to crowd 
 away from the point toward which we were approaching, 
 and a gap was opened in the side of the herd. We entered 
 it, still restraining our excited horses. Every instant the 
 tumult was thickening. The buffalo, pressing together 
 in large bodies, crowded away from us on every hand. 
 In front and on either side we could see dark columns 
 and masses, half-hidden by clouds of dust, rushing along 
 in terror and confusion, and hear the tramp and clatter- 
 ing of ten thousand hoofs. That countless multitude of 
 powerful brutes, ignorant of their own strength, were 
 flying in a panic from the approach of two feeble horse- 
 men. To remain quiet longer was impossible. 
 
 ''Take that band on the left," said Shaw; "I'll take 
 these in front." 
 
 He sprang off, and I saw no more of him. A heavy 
 Indian whip was fastened by a band to my wrist ; I swung 
 it into the air and lashed my horse's flank with all the 
 strength of my arm. Away she darted, stretching close 
 to the ground. I could see nothing but a cloud of dust 
 before me, but I knew that it concealed a band of many 
 hundreds of buffalo. In a moment I was in the midst of 
 the cloud, half-suffocated by the dust and stunned by the 
 trampling of the flying herd; but I was drunk with the 
 chase and cared for nothing but the buffalo. Very soon 
 a long dark mass became visible, looming through the 
 dust; then I could distinguish each bulky carcass, the 
 hoofs flying out beneath, the short tails held rigidly erect. 
 In a moment I was so close that I could have touched 
 them with my gun. Suddenly, to my utter amazement, 
 the hoofs were jerked upward, the tails flourished in the 
 air, and amid a cloud of dust the buffalo seemed to sink 
 into the earth before me. One vivid impression of that 
 instant remains upon my mind. I remember looking 
 down upon the backs of several buffalo dimly visible 
 through the dust. We had run unawares upon a ravine. 
 At that moment I was not the most accurate judge of 
 depth and width, but when I passed it on my return, I 
 found it about twelve feet deep and not quite twice as 
 wide at the bottom. It was impossible to stop; I would 
 have done so gladly if I could; so, half-sliding, half- 
 
300 ■ THE OREGON TRAIL 
 
 plunging, down went the little mare. I believe she came 
 down on her knees in the loose sand at the bottom; I was 
 pitched forward violently against her neck and nearly 
 thrown over her head among the buffalo, who, amid 
 dust and confusion, came tumbling in all around. The 
 mare was on her feet in an instant, and scrambling like a 
 cat up the opposite side. I thought for a moment that 
 she would have fallen back and crushed me, but with a 
 violent effort she clambered out and gained the hard prairie 
 above. Glancing back I saw the huge head of a bull 
 clinging, as it were, by the forefeet at the edge of the 
 dusty gulf. At length I was fairly among the buffalo. 
 They were less densely crowded than before, and I could 
 see nothing but bulls, who always run at the rear of a 
 herd. As I passed amid them they would lower their 
 heads, and turning as they ran, attempt to gore my horse; 
 but as they were already at full speed there was no force 
 in their onset, and as Pauline ran faster than they, they 
 were always thrown behind her in the effort. I soon 
 began to distinguish cows amid the throng. One just 
 in front of me seemed to my liking, and I pushed close 
 to her side. Dropping the reins, I fired, holding the muzzle 
 of the gun within a foot of her shoulder. Quick as light- 
 ning she sprang at Pauline; the little mare dodged the 
 attack, and I lost sight of the wounded animal amid the 
 tumultuous crowd. Immediately after I selected another, 
 and urging forward Pauhne, shot into her both pistols 
 in succession. For a while I kept her in view, but in 
 attempting to load my gun, lost sight of her also in the 
 confusion. Believing her to be mortally wounded and 
 unable to keep up with the herd, I checked my horse. 
 The crowd rushed onward. The dust and tumult passed 
 away, and on the prairie, far behind the rest, I saw a 
 solitary buffalo galloping heavily. In a moment I and 
 my victim were running side by side. My firearms were 
 all empty, and I had in my pouch nothing but rifle-bullets, 
 too large for the pistols and too small for the gun. I 
 loaded the latter, however, but as often as I levelled it 
 to fire, the little bullets would roll out of the muzzle and 
 the gun returned only a faint report like a squib, as the 
 powder harmlessly exploded. I galloped in front of the 
 
THE CHASE 301 
 
 buffalo and attempted to turn her back; but her eyes 
 glared, her mane bristled, and lowering her head, she 
 rushed at me with astonishing fierceness and activity. 
 Again and again I rode before her, and again and again 
 she repeated her furious charge. But little Pauline was 
 in her element. She dodged her enemy at eveiy rush, 
 until at length the buffalo stood still, exhausted with 
 her own efforts; she panted, and her tongue hung lolling 
 from her jaws. 
 
 Riding to a little distance, I alighted, thinking to 
 gather a handful of dry grass to serve the purpose of wad- 
 cling, and load the gun at my leisure. No sooner were 
 my feet on the ground than the buffalo came bounding 
 in such a rage toward me that I jumped back again into 
 the saddle with all possible dispatch. After waiting a 
 few minutes more, I made an attempt to ride up and 
 stab her with my knife; but the experiment proved such 
 as no wise man would repeat. At length, bethinking me 
 of the fringes at the seams of my buckskin pantaloons, 
 I jerked off a few of them, and reloading the gun, forced 
 them down the barrel to keep the bullet in its place; then 
 approaching, I shot .the wounded buffalo through the 
 heart. Sinking to her knees, she rolled over lifeless on 
 the prairie. To my astonishment I found that instead 
 of a fat cow I had been slaughtering a stout yearling bull. 
 No longer wondering at the fierceness he had shown, I 
 opened his throat, and cutting .out his tongue, tied it at 
 the back of my saddle. My mistake was one which a 
 more experienced eye than mine might easily make in 
 the dust and confusion of such a chase. 
 
 Then for the first time I had leisure to look at the scene 
 around me. The prairie in front was darkened with the 
 retreating multitude, and on the other hand the buffalo 
 came filing up in endless unbroken columns from the low 
 plains upon the river. The Arkansas was three or four 
 miles distant. I turned and moved slowly toward it. A 
 long time passed before, far down in the distance, I dis- 
 tinguished the white covering of the cart and the little 
 black specks of horsemen before and behind it. Drawing 
 near, I recognized Shaw's elegant tunic, the red flannel 
 shirt conspicuous far off. I overtook the party, and 
 
302 THE OREGON TRAIL 
 
 asked him what success he had met with. He had assailed 
 a fat cow, shot her with two bullets, and mortally wounded 
 her. But neither of us were prepared for the chase that 
 afternoon, and Shaw, like myself, had no spare bullets 
 in his pouch; so he abandoned the disabled animal to 
 Henry Chatillon, who followed, dispatched her with his 
 rifle, and loaded his horse with her meat. 
 
 We encamped close to the river. The night was dark, 
 and as we lay down we could hear mingled with the 
 howlings of wolves the hoarse bellowing of the buffalo, 
 like the ocean beating upon a distant coast. 
 
 CHAPTER XXV 
 
 THE BUFFALO-CAMP 
 
 '' In pastures measureless as air, 
 The bison is my noble game." — Bryant. 
 
 No one in the camp was more active than Jim Gurney, 
 and no one half so lazy as Ellis. Between these two there 
 was a great antipathy. Ellis never stirred in the morning 
 until he was compelled to, but Jim was always on his 
 feet before daybreak; and this morning, as usual, the 
 sound of his voice awakened the party. 
 
 "Get up, you booby! up with you now, you're fit for 
 nothing but eating and sleeping. Stop your grumbling and 
 come out of that buffalo-robe or I'll pull it off for you." 
 
 Jim's words were interspersed with numerous exple- 
 tives, which gave them great additional effect. Ellis 
 drawled out something in a nasal tone from among the 
 folds of his buffalo-robe; then slowly disengaged himself, 
 rose into a sitting-posture, stretched his long arms, 
 yawned hideously, and, finally raising his tall person 
 erect, stood staring around him to all the four quarters 
 of the horizon. Delorier's fire was soon blazing, and the 
 horses and mules, loosened from their pickets, were feed- 
 ing on the neighboring meadow. When we sat down to 
 breakfast the prairie was still in the dusky light of morning ; 
 and as the sun rose we were mounted and on our way again. 
 
 "A white buffalo!" exclaimed Munroe. 
 
THE BUFFALO-CAMP 303 
 
 "I'll have that fellow," said Shaw, "if I run my horse 
 to death after him/' 
 
 He threw the cover of his gun to Delorier and galloped 
 out upon the prairie. 
 
 "Stop, Mr. Shaw, stop!" called out Henry Chatillon, 
 "you'll run down your horse for nothing; it's only a 
 white ox." 
 
 But Shaw was already out of hearing. The ox, who 
 had no doubt strayed aAvay from some of the government 
 wagon-trains, was standing beneath some low hills which 
 bounded the plain in the distance. Not far from him a 
 band of veritable buffalo-bulls were grazing; and startled 
 at Shaw's approach, they all broke into a run, and went 
 scrambling up the hihsides to gain the high prairie above. 
 One of them in his haste and terror involved himself in a 
 fatal catastrophe. Along the foot of the hills was a nar- 
 row strip of deep marshy soil, into which the bull plunged 
 and hopelessly entangled himself. We all rode up to the 
 spot. The huge carcass was half-sunk in the mud which 
 flowed to his very chin, and his shaggy mane was out- 
 spread upon the surface. As we came near the bull began 
 to struggle with convulsive strength; he writhed to and 
 fro, and in the energy of his fright and desperation would 
 lift himself for a moment half out of the slough, while 
 the reluctant mire returned a sucking sound as he strained 
 to drag his limbs from its tenacious depths. We stimu- 
 lated his exertions by getting behind him and twisting 
 his tail; nothing would do. There was clearly no hope 
 for him. After every effort his heaving sides were more 
 deeply imbedded and the mire almost overflowed his 
 nostrils; he lay still, at length, and looking around at us 
 with a furious eye, seemed to resign himself to his fate. 
 Ellis slowly dismounted, and deliberately levelling his 
 boasted yager, shot the old bull through the heart; then 
 he lazily climbed back again to his seat, pluming himself, 
 no doubt, on having actually killed a buffalo. That day 
 the invincible yager drew blood for the first and last 
 time during the whole journey. 
 
 The morning was a bright and gay one, and the air 
 so clear that on the farthest horizon the outline of the 
 pale-blue prairie was sharply drawn against the sky. 
 
304 THE OREGON TRAIL 
 
 Shaw felt in the mood for hunting; he rode in advance 
 of the party, and before long we saw a file of bulls gallop- 
 ing at full speed upon a vast green swell of the prairie at 
 some distance in front. Shaw came scouring along behind 
 them, arrayed in his red shirt, which looked very well in 
 the distance; he gained fast on the fugitives, and as the 
 foremost bull was disappearing behind the summit of the 
 swell, we saw him in the act of assailing the hindmost; a 
 smoke sprang from the muzzle of his gun, and floated 
 away before the wind like a little white cloud; the bull 
 turned upon him, and just then the rising ground con- 
 cealed them both from view. 
 
 We were moving forward until about noon, when we 
 stopped by the side of the Arkansas. At that moment 
 Shaw appeared riding slowly down the side of a distant 
 hill; his horse was tired and jaded, and when he threw his 
 saddle upon the ground, I observed that the tails of two 
 bulls were dangling behind it. No sooner were the horses 
 turned loose to feed than Henry, asking Munroe to go 
 with him, took his rifle and walked quietly away. Shaw, 
 Tete Rouge, and I sat down by the side of the cart to 
 discuss the dinner which Delorier placed before us; we 
 had scarcely finished when we saw Munroe walking 
 toward us along the river-bank. Henry, he said, had 
 killed four fat cows, and had sent him back for horses to 
 bring in the meat. Shaw took a horse for himself and 
 another for Henry, and he and Munroe left the camp 
 together. After a short absence all three of them came 
 back, their horses loaded with the choicest parts of the 
 meat ; we kept two of the cows for ourselves and gave the 
 others to Munroe and his companions. Delorier seated 
 himself on the grass before the pile of meat, and worked 
 industriously for some time to cut it into thin broad 
 sheets for drying. This is no easy matter, but Delorier 
 had all the skill of an Indian squaAv. Long before night 
 cords of raw-hide were stretched around the camp, and 
 the meat was hung upon them to dry in the sunshine and 
 pure air of the prairie. Our California companions were 
 less successful at the work; but they accompHshed it after 
 their own fashion, and their side of the camp was soon 
 garnished in the same manner as our own. 
 
THE BUFFALO-CAMP 305 
 
 We meant to remain at this place long enough to pre- 
 pare provisions for our journey to the frontier, which, 
 as we supposed, might occupy about a month. Had the 
 distance been twice as great and the party ten times as 
 large, the unerring rifle of Henry Chatillon would have 
 supplied meat enough for the whole within two days; we 
 were obliged to remain, however, until it should be (\y\ 
 enough for transportation; so we erected our tent and 
 made the other arrangements for a permanent camp. 
 The California men, who had no such shelter, contented 
 themselves with arranging their packs on the _ grass 
 around their fire. In the meantime we had nothing to 
 do but amuse ourselves. Our tent was within a rod of 
 the river, if the broad sand-beds, with a scanty stream 
 of water coursing here and there along their surface, de- 
 serve to be dignified with the name of river. The vast 
 fiat plains on either side were almost on a level with the 
 sand-beds, and they were bounded in the distance by low, 
 monotonous hills, parallel to the course of the Arkansas. 
 All was one expanse of grass; there was no wood in view, 
 except some trees and stunted bushes upon two islands 
 which rose from amid the wet sands of the river. Yet far 
 from being dull and tame, this boundless scene was often 
 a wild and animated one; for twice a day, at sunrise and 
 at noon, the buffalo came issuing from the hills, slowly 
 advancing in their grave processions to drink at the river. 
 All our amusements were to be at their expense. Except 
 an elephant, I have seen no animal that can surpass a 
 buffalo-bull in size and strength, and the world may be 
 searched in vain to find anything of a more ugly and 
 ferocious aspect. At first sight of him every feeling cf 
 sympathy vanishes; no man who has not experienced it 
 can understand with what keen relish one inflicts hio 
 death-wound, Avith what profound contentment of mind 
 he beholds him fall. The cows are much smaller and of a 
 gentler appearance, as becomes their sex. While in this 
 camp we forebore to attack them, leaving to Henry Cha- 
 tillon, who could better judge their fatness and good 
 quality, the task of killing such as we Avanted for use ; but 
 against the bulls we waged an unrelenting war. ^ Thou- 
 sands of them might be slaughtered without causing any 
 
306 THE OREGON TRAIL 
 
 detriment to the species, for their numbers greatly exceed 
 those of the cows; it is the hides of the latter alone which 
 are used for the purpose of commerce and for making the 
 lodges of the Indians; and the destruction among them is 
 therefore altogether disproportioned. 
 
 Our horses were tirecl, and we now usually hunted on 
 foot. The wide, flat sand-beds of the Arkansas, as the 
 reader will remember, lay close by the side of our camp. 
 While we were lying on the grass after dinner, smoking, 
 conversing, or laughing at Tete Rouge, one of us would 
 look up and observe, far out on the plains beyond the 
 river, certain black objects slowly approaching. He 
 would inhale a parting whiff from the pipe, then rising 
 lazily, take his rifle, which leaned against the cart, throw 
 over his shoulder the strap of his pouch and powder-horn, 
 and with his moccasins in his hand, walk quietly across 
 the sand toward the opposite side of the river. This was 
 very easy; for though the sands were about a quarter of a 
 mile wide, the water was nowhere more than two feet 
 deep. The farther bank was about four or five feet high, 
 and quite perpendicular, being cut away by the water in 
 spring. Tall grass grew along its edge. Putting it aside 
 with his hand, and cautiously looking through it, the 
 hunter can discern the huge shaggy back of the buffalo 
 slowly swaying to and fro, as, with his clumsy, swinging 
 gait, he advances toward the water. The buffalo have 
 regular paths by which they come down to drink. Seeing 
 at a glance along which of these his intended victim is 
 moving, the hunter crouches under the bank within 
 fifteen or twenty yards, it may be, of the point where the 
 path enters the river. Here he sits down quietly on the 
 sand. Listening intently, he hears the heavy monotonous 
 tread of the approaching bull. The moment after, he sees 
 a motion among the long weeds and grass just at the spot 
 where the path is channelled through the bank. An 
 enormous black head is thrust out, the horns just visible 
 amid the mass of tangled mane. Half -sliding, half- 
 plunging, down comes the buffalo upon the river-bed 
 below. He steps out in full sight upon the sands. Just 
 before him a runnel of water is gliding, and he bends his 
 head to drink. You may hear the water as it gurgles 
 
THE BUFFALO-CAMP 307 
 
 down his capacious throat. He raises his head, and the 
 drops trickle from his wet beard. He stands with an air 
 of stupid abstraction, unconscious of the lurking danger. 
 Noiselessl}' the hunter cocks his rifle. As he sits upon the 
 sand, his knee is raised, and his elbow rests upon it, that 
 he may level his heavy weapon with a steadier aim. The 
 stock is at his shoulder; his eye ranges along the barrel. 
 Still he is in no haste to fire. The bull, with slow delibera- 
 tion, begins his march over the sands to the other side. 
 He advances his fore-leg, and exposes to view a small 
 spot, denuded of hair, just behind the point of his shoulder; 
 upon this the hunter brings the sight of his rifle to bear; 
 lightly and delicately his finger presses upon the hair- 
 trigger. Quick as thought the spiteful crack of the rifle 
 responds to his slight touch, and instantly in the middle 
 of the bare spot appears a small red dot. The buffalo 
 shivers; death has overtaken him, he cannot tell from 
 whence; still he does not fall, but walks heavily forward^ 
 as if nothing had happened. Yet before he has advanced 
 far out upon the sand, you see him stop; he totters; his 
 knees bend under him, and his head sinks forward to the 
 ground. Then his whole vast bulk sways to one side; he 
 rolls over on the sand, and dies with a scarcely perceptible 
 struggle. 
 
 Waylaying the buffalo in this manner, and shooting 
 them as they come to water, is the easiest and laziest 
 method of hunting them. They may also be approached 
 by crawling up ravines, or behind hills, or even over the 
 open prairie. This is often surprisingly easy; but at other 
 times it requires the utmost skill of the most experienced 
 hunter. Henry Chatillon was a man of extraordinary 
 strength and hardihood; but I have seen him return to 
 camp quite exhausted with his efforts, his limbs scratched 
 and wounded, and his buckskin dress stuck full of the 
 thorns of the prickly-pear, among which he had been 
 crawling. Sometimes he would lie flat upon his face, 
 and drag himself along in this position for many rods 
 together. 
 
 On the second day of our stay at this place, Henry 
 went out for an afternoon hunt. Shaw and I remained 
 in camp, until, observing some bulls approaching the 
 
308 THE OREGON TRAIL 
 
 water upon the other side of the river, we crossed over 
 to attack them. They were so near, however, that before 
 we could get under cover of the bank, our appearance as 
 we walked over the sands alarmed them. Turning around 
 before coming within gun-shot, they began to move off to 
 the right, in a direction parallel to the river. I climbed up 
 the bank and ran after them. They were walking swiftly 
 and before I could come within gun-shot distance, they 
 slowly wheeled about and faced toward me. Before they 
 had turned far enough to see me I had fallen flat on my 
 face. For a moment they stood and stared at the strange 
 object upon the grass; then turning away, again they 
 walked on as before; and I, rising immediately, ran once 
 more in pursuit. Again they wheeled about, and again I 
 fell prostrate. Repeating this three or four times, I came 
 at length within a hundred yards of the fugitives, and as 
 I saw them turning again I sat down and levelled my rifle. 
 The one in the centre was the largest I had ever seen. I 
 shot him behind the shoulder. His two companions ran 
 off. He attempted to follow, but soon came to a stand, 
 and at length lay down as quietly as an ox chewing the 
 cud. Cautiously approaching him, I saw by his dull and 
 jelly-like eye that he was dead. 
 
 When I began the chase the prairie was almost tenant- 
 less; but a great multitude of buffalo had suddenly 
 thronged upon it, and looking up I saw within fifty rods 
 a heavy, dark column stretching to the right and left as 
 far as I could see. I walked toward them. My approach 
 did not alarm them in the least. The column itself con- 
 sisted almost entirely of cows and calves, but a great 
 many old bulls were ranging about the prairie on its 
 flank, and as I drew near they faced toward me with 
 such a shaggy and ferocious look that I thought it best 
 to proceed no farther. Indeed, I was alread}^ within close 
 rifle-shot of the column, and I sat down on the ground to 
 watch their movements. Sometimes the whole would 
 stand still, their heads all facing one way; then they 
 would trot forward, as if by a common impulse, their 
 hoofs and horns clattering together as they moved. I 
 soon began to hear at a distance on the left the sharp 
 reports of a rifle, again and again repeated; and not long 
 
THE BUFFALO-CAMP 309 
 
 after, dull and heavy sounds succeeded, which I recog- 
 nized as the familiar voice of Shaw's double-barrelled 
 gun. When Henry's rifle was at work there was always 
 meat to be brought in. I Avent back across the river for a 
 horse, and returning, reached the spot where the hunters 
 were standing. The buffalo were visible on the distant 
 prairie. The living had retreated from the ground, but 
 ten or twelve carcasses were scattered in various direc- 
 tions. Henry, knife in hand, was stooping over a dead 
 cow, cutting away the best and fattest of the meat. 
 
 When Shaw left me he had walked down for some 
 distance under the river-bank to find another bull. At 
 length he saw the plains covered with the host of buffalo, 
 and soon after heard the crack of Henry's rifle. Ascend- 
 ing the bank, he crawled through the grass, which for a 
 rod or two from the river was very high and rank. He 
 had not crawled far before, to his astonishment, he saw 
 Henry standing erect upon the prairie, almost surrounded 
 by the buffalo. Henry was in his appropriate element. 
 Nelson, on the deck of the "Victory," hardly felt a 
 prouder sense of mastery than he. Quite unconscious 
 that any one w^as looking at him, he stood at the full 
 height of his tall, strong figure, one hand resting upon 
 his side, and the other arm leaning carelessly on the 
 muzzle of his rifle. His eyes were ranging over the singular 
 assemblage around him. Now and then he would select 
 such a cow as suited him, level his rifle, and shoot her 
 dead; then, quietly reloading, he would resume his former 
 jDOsition. The buffalo seemed no more to regsfrd his 
 presence than if he were one of themselves ; the bulls were 
 bellowing and butting at each other, or else rolling about 
 in the dust. A group of buffalo would gather about the 
 carcass of a dead cow, snuffing at her wounds; and some- 
 times they would come behind those that had not yet 
 fallen and endeavor to push them from the spot. Now 
 and then some old bull would face toward Henry with an 
 air of stupid amazement, but none seemed inclined to 
 attack or fly from him. For some time Shaw lay among 
 the grass, looking in surprise at this extraordinary sight; 
 at length he crawled cautiously forward, and spoke in a 
 low voice to Henry, who told him to rise and come on. 
 
310 THE OREGON TRAIL 
 
 Still the buffalo showed no sign of fear; they remained 
 gathered about their dead companions. Henry had 
 already killed as many cows as we w^anted for use, and 
 Shaw, kneeling behind one of the carcasses, shot five 
 bulls before the rest thought it necessary to disperse. 
 
 The frequent stupidity and infatuation of the buffalo 
 seems the more remarkable from the contrast it offers to 
 their wildness and wariness at other times. Henry knew 
 all their peculiarities; he had studied them as a scholar 
 studies his books, and he derived quite as much pleasure 
 from the occupation. The buffalo were a kind of com- 
 panions to him, and, as he said, he never felt alone when 
 they were about him. He took great pride in his skill 
 in hunting. Henry was one of the most -modest of men; 
 yet, in the simplicity and frankness of his character, it 
 was quite clear that he looked upon his pre-eminence in 
 this respect as a thing too palpable and well-established 
 ever to be disputed. But whatever may have been his 
 estimate of his own skill, it was rather below than above 
 that which others placed upon it. The only time that I 
 ever saw a shade of scorn darken his face was when two 
 volunteer soldiers, who had just killed a buffalo for the 
 first time, undertook to instruct him as to the best method 
 of "approaching." To borrow an illustration from an 
 opposite side of fife, an Eton boy might as well have 
 sought to enlighten Porsons on the formation of a Greek 
 verb, or a Fleet Street shopkeeper to instruct Chesterfield 
 concerning a point of etiquette. Henry always seemed 
 to think that he had a sort of pf-escriptive right to the 
 buffalo, and to look upon them as something belonging 
 peculiarly to himself. Nothing excited his indignation 
 so much as any wanton destruction committed among 
 the cows, and in his view shooting a calf was a cardinal 
 sin. 
 
 Henry Chatillon and Tete Rouge were of the same age; 
 that is, about thirty. Henry was twice as large, and fully 
 six times as strong as Tete Rouge. Henry's face was 
 roughened by winds and storms; Tete Rouge's was 
 bloated by sherry-cobblers and brandy-toddy. Henry 
 talked of Indians and buffalo ; Tete Rouge of theatres and 
 oyster-cellars. Henry had led a life of hardship and priva- 
 
THE BUFFALO-CAMP 311 
 
 tion; Tete Rouge never had a whim which he would not 
 gratify at the first moment he was able. Henry, more- 
 over, was the most disinterested man I ever saw; while 
 Tete Rouge, though equally good-natured in his way, 
 cared for nobody but himself. Yet we would not have 
 lost him on any account; he admirably served the pur- 
 pose of a jester in a feudal castle; our camp would have 
 been lifeless without him. For the past week he had 
 fattened in a most amazing manner; and, indeed, this 
 was not at all surprising, since his appetite was most 
 inordinate. He was eating from morning till night; half 
 the time he would be at work cooking some private repast 
 for himself, and he paid a visit to the coffee-pot eight or 
 ten times a day. His rueful and disconsolate face be- 
 came jovial and rubicund, his eyes stood out like a lob- 
 ster's, and his spirits, which before were sunk to the depths 
 of despondency, were now elated in proportion; all day 
 he was singing, whistling, laughing, and telling stories. 
 Being mortally afraid of Jim Gurney, he kept close in 
 the neighborhood of our tent. As he had seen an abun- 
 dance of low, dissipated life, and had a considerable fund 
 of humor, his anecdotes were extremely amusing, especially 
 since he never hesitated to place himself in a ludicrous 
 point of view, provided he could raise a laugh by doing so. 
 Tete Rouge, however, was sometimes rather trouble- 
 some; he had an inveterate habit of pilfering provisions 
 at all times of the day. He set ridicule at utter defiance; 
 and being without a particle of self-respect, he would 
 never have given over his tricks, even if they had drawn 
 upon him the scorn of the whole party. Now and then, 
 indeed, something worse than laughter fell to his share; 
 on these occasions he would exhibit much contrition, 
 but half an hour after we would generally observe him 
 stealing around to the box at the back of the cart, and 
 slyly making off with the provisions which Delorier 
 had laid by for supper. He was very fond of smoking, 
 but having no tobacco of his own, we used to provide him 
 with as much as he wanted, a small piece at a time. At 
 first we gave him half a pound together; but this experi- 
 ment proved an entire failure, for he invariabty lost not 
 only the tobacco, but the knife intrusted to him for cut- 
 
312 THE OREGON TRAIL 
 
 ting it, and a few minutes after he would come to us with 
 many apologies and beg for more. 
 
 We had been two days at this camp, and some of the 
 meat was nearly fit for transportation, when a storm came 
 suddenly upon us. About sunset the whole sky grew as 
 black as ink, and the long grass at the river's edge bent 
 and rose mournfully with the first gusts of the approach- 
 ing hurricane. Munroe and his two companions brought 
 their guns and placed them under cover of our tent. 
 Having no shelter for themselves, they built a fire of 
 driftwood that might have defied a cataract, and wrapped 
 in their buffalo-robes, sat on the ground around it to 
 bide the fury of the storm. Delorier ensconced himself 
 under the cover of the cart. Shaw and I, together with 
 Henry and Tete Rouge, crowded into the little tent; 
 but, first of all, the dried meat was piled together ancl 
 well protected by buffalo-robes pinned firmly to the 
 ground. About nine o'clock the storm broke, amid 
 absolute darkness; it blew a gale, and torrents of rain 
 roared over the boundless expanse of open prairie. Our 
 tent was filled with mist and spray beating through the 
 canvas, and saturating everything wdthin. We could 
 only distinguish each other at short intervals by the 
 dazzling flash of lightning, which displayed the whole 
 waste around us with its momentary glare. W^e had our 
 fears for the tent; but for an hour or two it stood fast, 
 until at length the cap gave way before a furious blast; 
 the pole tore through the top, and in an instant we were 
 half-suffocated by the cold and dripping folds of the 
 canvas, which fell down upon us. Seizing upon our guns^ 
 we placed them erect, in order to lift the saturated cloth 
 above our heads. In this agreeable situation, involved 
 among wet blankets and buffalo-robes, we spent several 
 hours of the night, during which the storm would not 
 abate for a moment, but pelted down above our heads 
 with merciless fury. Before long the ground beneath 
 us became soaked with moisture, and the water gathered 
 there in a pool two or three inches deep; so that for a 
 considerable part of the night we were partially immersed 
 in a cold bath. In spite of all this, Tete Rouge's flow of 
 spirits did not desert him for an instant; he laughed, 
 
THE BUFFALO-CAMP 313 
 
 whistled, and sung in defiance of the storm, and that 
 night he paid off the long arrears of ridicule which he 
 owed us. While we lay in silence, enduring the infliction 
 with what philosophy we could muster, Tete Rouge, 
 who was intoxicated with animal spirits, was cracking 
 jokes at our expense by the hour together. At about 
 three o'clock in the morning, ''preferring the tyranny 
 of the open night " to such a wretched shelter, we crawled 
 out from beneath the fallen canvas. The wind had 
 abated, but the rain fell steadily. The fire of the Cali- 
 fornia men still blazed amid the darkness, and we joined 
 {hem as they sat around it. We made ready some hot 
 coffee by way of refreshment ; but when some of the party 
 sought to replenish their cups, it was found that Tete 
 Rouge, having disposed of his own share, had privately 
 abstracted the coffee-pot and drank up the rest of the 
 contents out of the spout. 
 
 In the morning, to our great joy, an unclouded sun 
 rose upon the prairie. We presented rather a laughable 
 appearance, for the cold and clammy buckskin, saturated 
 with water, clung fast to our limbs; the light wind and 
 warm sunshine soon dried them again, and then we were 
 all incased in armor of intolerable rigidity. Roaming all 
 day over the prairie and shooting two or three bulls was 
 scarcely enough to restore the stiffened leather to its 
 usual phancy. 
 
 Besides Henry Chatillon, Shaw and I vvTre the only 
 hunters in the party. Munroe this morning made an at- 
 tempt to run a buffalo, but his horse could not come up 
 to the game. Shaw went out with him, and, being better 
 mounted, soon found himself in the midst of the herd. 
 Seeing nothing but cows and calves around him, he 
 checked his horse. An old bull came galloping on the 
 open prairie at some distance behind, and turning, Shaw 
 rode across his path, levelling his gun as he passed, and 
 shooting him through the shoulder into the heart. The 
 heavy bullets of Shaw's double-barrelled gun made wild 
 work wherever they struck. 
 
 A great flock of buzzards were usually soaring about 
 a few trees that stood on the island just below our camp. 
 Throughout the whole of yesterday we had noticed an 
 
314 THE OREGON TRAIL 
 
 eagle among them; to-day he was still there; and Tete 
 Rouge, declaring that he would kill the bird of America^ 
 borrowed Delorier's gun and set out on his unpatriotic 
 mission. As might have been expected, the eagle suffered 
 no great harm at his hands. He soon returned, saying 
 that he could not find him, but had shot a buzzard instead. 
 Being required to produce the bird in proof of his asser- 
 tion, he said he believed that he was not quite dead, but 
 he must be hurt, from the swiftness with which he flew off. 
 
 "If you want," said Tete Rouge, "I'll go and get one 
 of his feathers; I knocked off plenty of them when I shot 
 him." 
 
 Just opposite our camp was another island covered 
 with bushes, and behind it was a deep pool of water, 
 while two or three considerable streams coursed over the 
 sand not far off. I was bathing at this place in the after- 
 noon, when a white wolf, larger than the largest New- 
 foundland dog, ran out from behind the point of the island, 
 and galloped leisurely over the sand not half a stone's 
 throw distant. I could plainly see his red eyes, and the 
 bristles about his snout; he was an ugly scoundrel, with 
 a bushy tail, large head, and a most repulsive counte- 
 nance. Having neither rifle to shoot nor stone to pelt 
 him with, I was looking eagerly after some missile for 
 his benefit, when the report of a gun came from the camp, 
 and the ball threw up the sand just beyond him; at this 
 he gave a slight jump, and stretched away so swiftly 
 that he soon dwindled into a mere speck on the distant 
 sand-beds. The number of carcasses that by this time 
 were lying about the prairie all around us summoned the 
 wolves from every quarter; the spot where Shaw and 
 Henry had hunted together soon became their favorite 
 resort, for here about a dozen dead buffalo were ferment- 
 ing under the hot sun. I used often to go over the river 
 and watch them at their meal; by lying under the bank 
 it was easy to get a full view of them. Three different 
 kinds were present: there were the white wolves and the 
 gray wolves, both extremely large, and besides these the 
 small prairie-wolves, not much bigger than spaniels. 
 They would howl and fight in a crowd around a single car- 
 cass, yet they were so watchful, and their senses so acute, 
 
THE BUFFALO-CAMP 315 
 
 that I never was able to crawl within a fair shooting- 
 distance; w^henever I attempted it, they would all scatter 
 at once and glide silently away through the tall grass. 
 The air above this spot was always full of buzzards or 
 black vultures; whenever the wolves left a carcass they 
 would descend upon it, and cover it so densely that a 
 rifle-bullet shot at random among the gormandizing 
 crowd would generally strike down two or three of them. 
 These birds would now be sailing by scores just above our 
 camp, their broad black wings seeming half-transparent 
 as they expanded them against the bright sky. The 
 wolves and the buzzards thickened about us with every 
 hour, and two or three eagles also came into the feast. I 
 killed a bull within rifle-shot of the camp; that night the 
 wolves made a fearful howling close at hand, and in the 
 morning the carcass was completely hollowed out by these 
 voracious feeders. 
 
 After we had remained four days at this camp we 
 prepared to leave it. We had for our own part about 
 five hundred pounds of dried meat, and the California 
 men had prepared some three hundred more; this con- 
 sisted of the fattest and choicest parts of eight or nine 
 cows, a very small quantity only being taken from each, 
 and the rest abandoned to the wolves. The pack-animals 
 were laden, the horses were saddled, and the mules har- 
 nessed to the cart. Even Tete Rouge was ready at last, 
 land slowly moving from the ground, we resumed our 
 journey eastward. When we had advanced about a 
 mile, Shaw missed a valuable hunting-knife and turned 
 back in search of it, thinking that he had left it at the 
 camp. He approached the place cautiously, fearful that 
 Indians might be lurking about, for a deserted camp is 
 dangerous to return to. He saw no enemy, but the scene 
 was a wild and dreary one; the prairie was overshadowed 
 by dull, leaden clouds, for the day was dark and gloomy. 
 The ashes of the fires were still smoking by the river- 
 side; the grass around them was trampled down bj^ men 
 and horses, and strewn with all the litter of a camp. 
 Our departure had been a gathering-signal to the birds 
 and beasts of prey ; Shaw assured me that literal^ dozens 
 of wolves were prowling about the smouldering fires. 
 
316 THE OREGON TRAIL 
 
 while multitudes were roaming over the prairie around; 
 they all fled as he approached, some running over the 
 sand-beds and some over the grassy plains. The vultures 
 in great clouds were soaring overhead, and the dead bull 
 near the camp was completely blackened by the flock that 
 had alighted upon it; they flapped their broad wings, 
 and stretched upward their crested heads and long, 
 skinny necks, fearing to remain, yet reluctant to leave 
 their disgusting feast. As he searched about the fires he 
 saw the wolves seated on the distant hills, waiting for 
 his departure. Having looked in vain for his knife, he 
 mounted again, and left the wolves and the vultures to 
 banquet freely upon the carrion of the camp. 
 
 CHAPTER XXVI 
 
 DOW^N THE ARKANSAS 
 
 "They quitted not their harness bright, 
 Neither by day nor yet by night; 
 They lay down to rest 
 With corslet laced, 
 Pillowed on buckler cold and hard. 
 They carved at the meal 
 With gloves of steel, 
 And they drank the red wine through the helmet barred." 
 
 The Lay of the Last Minstrel. 
 
 In the summer of 1846 the wfld and lonely banks of 
 the Upper Arkansas beheld, for the first time, the passage 
 of an army. General Kearney, on his march to Santa Fe, 
 adopted this route in preference to the old trail of the 
 Cimarron. When we came down, the main body of the 
 troops had already passed on; Price's. Missouri regiment, 
 however, was still on the way, having left the frontier 
 much later than the rest; and about this time we began 
 to meet them moving along the trail, one or two com- 
 panies at a time. No men ever embarked upon a military 
 expedition with a greater love for the work before them 
 than the Missourians; but if discipline and subordination 
 be the criterion of merit, these soldiers were worthless 
 indeed. Yet, when their exploits have rung through all 
 
DOWN THE ARKANSAS 317 
 
 America, it would be absurd to deny that they were 
 excellent irregular troops. Their victories were gained 
 in the teeth of every established precedent of warfare; 
 they were owing to a singular combination of military 
 qualities in the men themselves. Without discipline or 
 a spirit of subordination, they knew how^ to keep their 
 ranks and act as one man. Doniphan's regiment marched 
 through New Mexico more like a band of free compan- 
 ions than Hke the paid soldiers of a modern government. 
 When General Taylor complimented Doniphan on his 
 success at Sacramento and elsewhere, the Colonel's reply 
 very well illustrates the relations which subsisted be- 
 tween the officers and men of his command : 
 
 "1 don't know anything of the manoeuvres. The 
 boys kept coming to me to let them charge; and, when I 
 saw a good opportunity, I told them they might go. 
 They were off like a shot, and that's all I know about it." 
 
 The backwoods lawyer was better fitted to conciliate 
 the good will than to command the obedience of his men. 
 There were many serving under him who, both from 
 character and education, could better have held com- 
 mand than he. 
 
 At the battle of Sacramento his frontiersmen fought 
 under every possible disadvantage. The Mexicans had 
 chosen their own position; they were drawn up across 
 the valley that led to their native city of Chihuahua; 
 their whole front was covered by intrenchments and 
 defended by batteries of heavy cannon; they outnumbered 
 the invaders five to one. An eagle flew over the Americans, 
 and a deep murmur rose along their lines. The enemy's 
 batteries opened; long they remained under fire, but 
 when at length the word was given they shouted and ran 
 forward. In one of the divisions, when midway to the 
 enemy, a drunken officer ordered a halt; the exasper- 
 ated men hesitated to obey. 
 
 " Forward, boys ! " cried a private from the ranks ; and 
 the Americans, rushing like tigers upon the enemy, 
 bounded over the breastwork. Four hundred Mexicans 
 were slain upon the spot, and the rest fled, scattering 
 over the plain like sheep. The standards, cannon, and 
 baggage were taken, and among the rest a wagon laden 
 
318 THE OREGON TRAIL 
 
 with cords, which the Mexicans, in the fuhiess of their 
 confidence, had made ready for t3ang the American 
 prisoners. 
 
 Doniphan's volunteers, who gained this victory, 
 passed up with the main army; but Price's soldiers, 
 whom we now met, were men from the same neighbor- 
 hood, precisely similar in character, manners, and ap- 
 pearance. One forenoon, as we were descending upon a 
 very wide meadow, where we meant to rest for an hour 
 or two, we saw a dark body of horsemen approaching at 
 a distance. In order to find water we were obhgecl to 
 turn aside to the river-bank, a full half-mile from the 
 trail. Here we put up a kind of awning, and spreading 
 buffalo-robes on the ground, Shaw and I sat down to 
 smoke beneath it. 
 
 "We are going to catch it now," said Shaw; "look at 
 those fellows; there'll be no peace for us here." 
 
 And in good truth about half the volunteers had strag- 
 gled away from the line of march, and were riding over 
 the meadow toward us. 
 
 "How are you?" said the first who came up, alighting 
 from his horse and throwing himself upon the ground. 
 The rest followed close, and a score of them soon gathered 
 about us, some lying at full length, and some sitting on 
 horseback. They all belonged to a company raised in 
 St. Louis. There were some ruffian faces among them, 
 and some haggard with debauchery, but on the whole 
 they were extremely good-looking men, superior beyond 
 measure to the ordinary rank and file of an army. Except 
 that they were booted to the knees, they wore their belts 
 and military trappings over the ordinary dress of citizens. 
 Besides their swords and holster-pistols, they carried, 
 slung from their saddles, the excellent Springfield car- 
 bines, loaded at the breech. They inquired the character 
 of our party, and were anxious to know the prospect of 
 killing buffalo, and the chance that their horses would 
 stand the journey to Santa Fe. All this was well enough, 
 but a moment after a worse visitation came upon us. 
 
 "How are you, strangers? whar are you going and whar 
 are you from?" said a fellow, who came trotting up with 
 an old straw hat on his head. He was dressed in the 
 
DOWN THE ARKANSAS 319 
 
 coarest brown homespun cloth. His face was rather 
 sallow from fever-and-ague, and his tall figure, though 
 strong and sinewy, was quite thin, and had besides an 
 angular look, which, together with his boorish seat on 
 horseback, gave him an appearance anything but grace- 
 ful. Plenty more of the same stamp were close behind 
 him. Their company was raised in one of the frontier 
 counties, and we soon had abundant evidence of their 
 rustic breeding; dozens of them came crowding around, 
 pushing between our first visitors, and staring at us with 
 unabashed faces. 
 
 '^Are you the captain?" asked one fellow. 
 
 "What's your business out here?" asked another. 
 
 "Whar do you live when you're at home?" said a 
 third. 
 
 "I reckon you're traders,'' surmised a fourth; and tO' 
 crown the whole, one of them came confidently to my 
 side and inquired in a low voice, " What's your partner's 
 
 name 
 
 ?" 
 
 As each new-comer repeated the same questions the 
 nuisance became intolerable. Our military visitors were 
 soon disgusted at the concise nature of our replies, and we 
 could overhear them muttering curses against us. While 
 we sat smoking, not in the best imaginable humor, Tete 
 Rouge's tongue was never idle. He never forgot his mil- 
 itary character, and during the whole interview he was 
 incessantly busy among his fellow-soldiers. At length we 
 placed him on the ground before us, and told him that 
 he might play the part of spokesman for the whole. Tete 
 Rouge was delighted, and we soon had the satisfaction 
 of seeing him talk and gabble at such a rate that the tor- 
 rent of questions was in a great measure diverted from 
 us. A little while after, to our amazement, we saw a 
 large cannon with four horses come lumbering up behind 
 the crowd ; and the driver, who was perched on one of the 
 animals, stretching his neck so as to look over the rest 
 of the men, called out: 
 
 " Whar are you from, and what's your business? " 
 The captain of one of the companies was among our 
 visitors, drawn by the same curiosity that had attracted 
 his men. Unless their faces belied them, not a few in the 
 
320 THE OREGON TRAIL 
 
 crowd might with great advantage have changed places 
 with their commander. 
 
 ''Well, men/' said he, lazily rising from the ground 
 where he had been lounging, "it's getting late, I reckon 
 w^e had better be moving." 
 
 ''I shan't start yet, anyhow," said one fellow, who was 
 lying half-asleep, with his head resting on his arm. 
 
 "Don't be in a huny, captain," added the lieutenant. 
 
 "Well, have it your own way; we'll wait awhile longer," 
 rephed the obsequious commander. 
 
 At length, however, our visitors went straggling away 
 as they had come, and we, to our great relief, were left 
 alone again. 
 
 No one can deny the intrepid bravery of these men, 
 their intelligence and the bold frankness of their character, 
 free from all that is mean and sordid. Yet, for the 
 moment, the extreme roughness of their manners half- 
 inclines one to forget their heroic qualities. Most of them 
 seem without the least perception of deHcacy or pro- 
 priety, though among them individuals may be found in 
 whose manners there is a plain courtesy, while their 
 features bespeak a gallant spirit equal to an}^ enterprise. 
 
 No one was more relieved than Delorier by the depar- 
 ture of the volunteers ; for dinner was getting colder every 
 moment. He spread a well-whitened buffalo-hide upon 
 the grass, placed in the middle the juicy hump of a fat 
 cow, ranged around it the tin plates and cups, and then 
 acquainted us that all was ready. Tete Rouge, with his 
 usual alacrity on such occasions, was the first to take his 
 seat. In his former capacity of steamboat clerk he had 
 learned to prefix the honorary Mister to everybody's 
 name, whether of high or low degree; so Jim Gurney was 
 Mr. Gurney, Henry was Mr. Henry, and even Delorier, 
 for the first time in his life, heard himself addressed as 
 Mr. Delorier. This did not prevent his conceiving a 
 violent enmity against Tete Rouge, who, in his futile, 
 though praiseworthy, attempts to make himself useful, 
 used always to intermeddle with cooking the dinners. 
 Delorier' s disposition knew no medium between smiles 
 and sunshine and a downright tornado of wrath; he said 
 nothing to Tete Rouge, but his wrongs rankled in his 
 
DOWN THE ARKANSAS 321 
 
 breast. Tete Rouge had taken his place at dinner; it 
 was his happiest moment; he sat enveloped in the old 
 buffalo-coat, sleeves turned up in preparation for the 
 work, and his short legs crossed on the grass before him; 
 he had a cup of coffee by his side and his knife ready in 
 his hand, and while he looked upon the fat hump-ribs, 
 his eyes dilated with anticipation. Delorier sat just op- 
 posite to him, and the rest of us by this time had taken 
 our seats. 
 
 "How is this, Delorier? You haven't given us bread 
 enough. '^ 
 
 At this Delorier's placid face flew instantly into a 
 paroxysm of contortions. He grinned *with wrath, chat- 
 tered, gesticulated, and hurled forth a volley of incoherent 
 words in broken English at the astonished Tete Rouge. It 
 was just possible to make out that he was accusing him of 
 having stolen and eaten four large cakes which had been 
 laid by for dinner. Tete Rouge, utterly confounded at this 
 sudden attack, stared at Delorier for a moment in dumb 
 amazement, with mouth and eyes wide open. At last he 
 found speech, and protested that the accusation was false; 
 and that he could not conceive how he had offended Mr. 
 Delorier, or j^rovoked him to use such ungentlemanly ex- 
 pressions. The tempest of words raged with such fury that 
 nothing else could be heard. But Tete Rouge, from his 
 greater command of English, had a manifest advantage 
 over Delorier, w^ho, after sputtering and grimacing for 
 awhile, found his words quite inadequate to the expression 
 of his wrath. He jumped up and vanished, jerking out 
 between his teeth one furious sacre enfant de garce, a 
 Canadian title of honor, made doubly emphatic by being 
 usually applied together with a cut of the whip to refra- 
 tory mules and horses. 
 
 The next morning we saw an old buffalo-bull escorting 
 his cow with two small calves over the prairie. Close be- 
 hind came four or five large white wolves, sneaking stealth- 
 ily through the long meadow-grass, and watching for the 
 moment when one of the children should chance to lag 
 behind his parents. The old bull kept well on his guard, 
 and faced about now and then to keep the prowling ruf- 
 fians at a distance. 
 
322 THE OREGON TRAIL 
 
 As we approached our nooning-place we saw five or 
 six buffalo standing at the very summit of a tall bluff. 
 Trotting forward to the spot where we meant to stop, I 
 flung off my saddle and turned my horse loose. B}^ mak- 
 ing a circuit under cover of some rising ground, I reached 
 the foot of the bluff unnoticed, and climbed up its steep 
 side. Lying under the brow of the declivity, I prepared 
 to fire at the buffalo, who stood on the flat surface above, 
 not five yards distant. Perhaps I was too hasty, for 
 the gleaming rifle-barrel levelled over the edge caught 
 their notice; they turned and ran. Close as they were, 
 it was impossible to kill them when in that position, and, 
 stepping upon the summit, I pursued them over the high 
 arid table-land. It was extremely rugged and broken; 
 a great sandy ravine was channelled through it, with 
 smaller ravines entering on each side, like tributary 
 streams. The buffalo scattered, and I soon lost sight of 
 most of them as they scuttled away through the sandy 
 chasms; a bull and a cow alone kept in view. For a while 
 they ran along the edge of the great ravine, appearing 
 and disappearing as they dived into some chasm and 
 again emerged from it. At last they stretched out upon 
 the broad prairie, a plain nearly flat and almost devoid 
 of verdure, for every short grass-blade was dried and 
 shrivelled by the glaring sun. Now and then the old bull 
 would face toward me; whenever he did so I fell to the 
 ground and lay motionless. In this manner I chased 
 them for about two miles, until at length I heard in front 
 a deep hoarse bellowing. A moment after, a band of 
 about a hundred bulls, before hidden by a slight swell of 
 the plain, came at once into view. The fugitives ran 
 toward them. Instead of mingling with the band, as I 
 expected, they passed directly through, and continued 
 their flight. At this I gave up the chase, and kneeling 
 down, crawled to within gun-shot of the bulls, and with 
 panting breath and trickling brow sat down on the ground 
 to watch them; my presence did not disturb them in the 
 least. They were not feeding, for, indeed, there was 
 nothing to eat; but they seemed to have chosen the 
 parched and scorching desert as the scene of their amuse- 
 ments. Some were rolling on the ground amid a cloud 
 
DOWN THE ARKANSAS 323 
 
 of dust; others, with a hoarse, rumbHng bellow, were 
 butting their large heads together, while many stood 
 motionless, as if quite inanimate. Except their mon- 
 strous growth of tangled, grizzly mane, they had no hair; 
 for their old coat had fallen off in the spring, and their 
 new one had not as yet appeared. Sometimes an old bull 
 would step fonvard, and gaze at me with a grim and stupid 
 countenance; then he would turn and butt his next 
 neighbor; then he would lie down and roll over in the 
 dirt, kicking his hoofs in the air. When satisfied with 
 this amusement, he would jerk his head and shoulders 
 upward, and resting on his forelegs, stare at me in this 
 position, half-blinded by his mane, and his face covered 
 with dirt; then up he would spring upon all-fours, and 
 shake his dusty sides; turning half -around, he would 
 stand with his beard touching the ground, in an attitude 
 of profound abstraction, as if reflecting on his puerile 
 conduct. ^'You are too ugly to live," thought I; and 
 aiming at the ugliest, I shot three of them in succession. 
 The rest were not at all discomposed at this; they kept 
 on bellowing and butting and rolling on the ground as 
 before. Henry Chatillon always cautioned us to keep 
 perfectly quiet in the presence of a wounded buffalo, for 
 any movement is apt to excite him to make an attack; 
 so I sat still upon the ground, loading and firing with as 
 little motion as possible. While I was thus employed, a 
 spectator made his appearance: a little antelope came 
 running up with remarkable gentleness to within fifty 
 yards; and there it stood, its slender neck arched, its 
 small horns thrown back, and its large dark eyes gazing 
 on me with a look of eager curiosity. By the side of the 
 shaggy and brutish monsters before me, it seemed like 
 some lovely young girl wandering near a den of robbers or 
 a nest of bearded pirates. The buffalo looked uglier than 
 ever. ''Here goes for another of you,'' thought I, feel- 
 ing in my pouch for a percussion-cap. Not a percussion- 
 cap was there. My good rifle was useless as an old iron 
 bar. One of the wounded bulls had not yet fallen, and 
 I waited for some time, hoping every moment that his 
 strength would fail him. He still stood firm, looking 
 grimly at me, and disregarding Henry's advice, I rose 
 
324 THE OREGON TRAIL 
 
 and walked away. Many of the bulls turned and looked 
 at me, but the wounded brute made no attack. I soon 
 came upon a deep ravine which would give me shelter 
 in case of emergency; so I turned around and threw a 
 stone at the bulls. They received it with the utmost indif- 
 ference. Feeling myself insulted at their refusal to be 
 frightened, I swung my hat, shouted, and made a show 
 of running toward them; at this they crowded together 
 and galloped off, leaving their dead and wounded upon 
 the field. As I moved toward the camp I saw the last 
 survivor totter and fall dead. My speed in returning was 
 wonderfully quickened by the reflection that the Pawnees 
 were abroad, and that I was defenceless in case of meeting 
 with an enemy. I saw no living thing, however, except 
 two or three squalid old bulls scrambling among the 
 sand-hills that flanked the great ravine. When I reached 
 camp the party were nearly ready for the afternoon 
 move. 
 
 We encamped that evening at a short distance from 
 the river-bank. About midnight, as we all lay asleep on 
 the ground, the man nearest to me, gently reaching out 
 his hand, touched my shoulder, and cautioned me at the 
 same time not to move. It was bright starlight. Open- 
 ing my eyes and slightly turning, I saw a large white wolf 
 moving stealthily around the embers of our fire, with his 
 nose close to the ground. Disengaging my hand from the 
 blanket, I drew the cover from my rifle, which lay close 
 at my side; the motion alarmed the wolf, and with long 
 leaps he bounded out of the camp. Jumping up, I fired 
 after him, when he was about thirty yards distant; the 
 melancholy hum of the bullet sounded far away through 
 the night. At the sharp report, so suddenly breaking 
 upon the stillness, all the men sprang up. 
 
 '^You've killed him," said one of them. 
 
 ''No, I haven't," said I; "there he goes, running along 
 the river." 
 
 ''Then there's two of them. Don't you see that one 
 lying out yonder?" 
 
 We went out to it, and instead of a dead white wolf, 
 found the bleached skull of a buffalo. I had missed my 
 mark, and what was worse, had grossly violated a stand- 
 
\ 
 
 DOWN THE ARKANSAS 325 
 
 ing law of the prairie. When in a dangerous part of the 
 country, it is considered highly imprudent to fire a gun 
 after encamping, lest the report should reach the ears of 
 the Indians. 
 
 The horses were saddled in the morning, and the last 
 man had lighted his pipe at the dying ashes of the fire. 
 The beauty of the day enlivened us all. Even Ellis felt 
 its influence, and occasionally made a remark as we rode 
 along; and Jim Gurney told endless stories of his cruisings 
 in the United States service. The buffalo were abundant, 
 and at length a large band of them went running up the 
 hills on the left. 
 
 "Do you see them buffalo?" said Ellis, "now, 1^1 bet 
 any man I'll go and kill one with my yager." 
 
 And leaving his horse to follow on Avith the party, he 
 strode up the hill after them. Henry looked at us with 
 his peculiar humorous expression, and proposed that we 
 should follow Ellis to see how he would kill a fat cow. 
 As soon as he was out of sight we rode up the hill after 
 him, and waited behind a little ridge till we heard the 
 report of the unfaiHng yager. Mounting to the top, we 
 saw Ellis clutching his favorite weapon with both hands, 
 and staring after the buffalo, wdio, one and all, were 
 galloping off at full speed. As we descended the hill we 
 saw the party straggling along the trail below. When we 
 joined them, another scene of amateur hunting awaited 
 us. I forgot to say that when we met the volunteers 
 Tete Rouge had obtained a horse from one of them, in 
 exchange for his mule, whom he feared and detested. 
 This horse he christened James. James, though^ not 
 w^orth so much as the mule, was a large and strong animal. 
 Tete Rouge was very proud of his new acquisition, and 
 suddenly became ambitious to run a buffalo with him. 
 At his request I lent him my pistols, though not without 
 great misgivings, since when Tete Rouge hunted buffalo 
 the pursuer was in more danger than the pursued. He 
 hung the holsters at his saddle-bow; and now, as we 
 passed along, a band of bulls left their grazing in the 
 meadow and galloped in a long file across the trail in front. 
 
 "Now's your chance, Tete; come, let's see you kill a 
 bull." 
 
326 THE OREGON TRAIL 
 
 Thus urged, the hunter cried, "Get up!'' and James, 
 obedient to the signal, cantered deliberately forward at 
 an abominably uneasy gait. Tete Rouge, as we contem- 
 plated him from behind, made a most remarkable figure. 
 He still wore the old buffalo-coat; his blanket, which was 
 tied in a loose bundle behind his saddle, went jolting from 
 one side to the other, and a large tin canteen, half -full of 
 water, which hung from his pommel, was jerked about 
 his leg in a manner which greatly embarrassed him. 
 
 ''Let out your horse, man; lay on your whip!" we 
 called out to him. The buffalo were getting farther off at 
 every instant. James, being ambitious to mend his pace, 
 tugged hard at the rein, and one of his rider's boots es- 
 caped from the stirrup. 
 
 "Whoa! I say, whoa!" cried Tete Rouge, in great 
 perturbation, and after much effort James's progress 
 was arrested. The hunter came trotting back to the 
 party, disgusted with buffalo-running, and he was re- 
 ceived with overwhelming congratulations. 
 
 "Too good a chance to lose," said Shaw, pointing to 
 another band of bulls on the left. We lashed our horses 
 and galloped upon them. Shaw killed one with each 
 barrel of his gun. I separated another from the herd and 
 shot him. The small bullet of the rifle-pistol striking too 
 far back, did not immediately take effect, and the bull 
 ran on with unabated speed. Again and again I snapped 
 the remaining pistol at him. I primed it afresh three or 
 four times, and each time it missed fire, for the touch- 
 hole was clogged up. Returning it to the holster, I began 
 to load the empty pistol, still galloping by the side of the 
 bull. By this time he was grown desperate. The foam 
 flew from his jaws and his tongue lolled out. Before the 
 pistol was loaded he sprang upon me, and followed up his 
 attack with a furious rush. The only alternative was to 
 run away or be killed. I took to flight, and the bull, 
 bristling with fury, pursued me closely. The pistol was 
 soon ready, and then looking back, I saw his head five 
 or six yards behind my horse's tail. To fire at it would 
 be useless, for a bullet flattens against the adamantine 
 skull of a buffalo-bull. Inclining my body to the left, I 
 turned my horse in that direction as sharply as his speed 
 
DOWN THE ARKANSAS 227 
 
 wouia permit. The bull, rushing blindly on with great 
 force and weight, did not turn so quickly. As I looked 
 back, his neck and shoulder were exposed to view; turn- 
 ing in the saddle, I shot a bullet through them obliquely 
 into his vitals. He gave over the chase and soon fell to 
 the ground. An English tourist represents a situation 
 like this as one of imminent danger; this is a great mis- 
 take; the bull never pursues long, and the horse must be 
 wretched, indeed, that cannot keep out of his way for 
 two or three minutes. 
 
 We were now come to a part of the country where we 
 were bound in common prudence to use every possible 
 precaution. We mounted guard at night, each man 
 standing in his turn; and no one ever slept without draw- 
 ing his rifle close to his side or folding it with him in his 
 blanket. One morning our vigilance was stimulated by 
 our finding traces of a large Camanche encampment. 
 Fortunately for us, however, it had been abandoned 
 nearly a week. On the next evening we found the ashes of 
 a recent fire, which gave us at the time some uneasiness. 
 At length we reached "The Caches," a place of dangerous 
 repute; and it had a most dangerous appearance, con- 
 sisting of sand-hills everj^where broken by ravines and 
 deep chasms. Here we found the grave of Swan, killed 
 at this place, probably by the Pawnees, two or three 
 weeks before. His remains, more than once violated by 
 the Indians and the wolves, were suffered at length to 
 remain undisturbed in their wild burial-place. 
 
 For several days we met detached companies of Price's 
 regiment. Horses would often break loose at night from 
 their camps. One afternoon we picked up three of these 
 stragglers quietly grazing along the river. After we came 
 to camp that evening, Jim Gurney brought news that 
 more of them were in sight. It was nearly dark, and a 
 cold, drizzling rain had set in; but we all turned out, and 
 after an hour's chase nine horses were caught and brought 
 in. One of them, was equipped with saddle and bridle; 
 pistols were hanging at the pommel of the saddle, a carbine 
 w^as slung at its side, and a blanket rolled up behind it. 
 In the morning, glorying in our valuable prize, we re- 
 sumed our journey, and our cavalcade presented a much 
 
328 THE OREGON TRAIL 
 
 more imposing appearance than ever before. We kept on 
 till the afternoon, when, far behind, three horsemen ap- 
 peared on the horizon. Coming on at a hand-gallop, 
 they soon overtook us, and claimed all the horses as be- 
 longing to themselves and others of their company. They 
 were, of course, given up, very much to the mortification 
 of Ellis and Jim Gurney. 
 
 Our own horses now showed signs of fatigue, and we 
 resolved to give them half a day's rest. We stopped at 
 noon at a grassy spot by the river. After dinner Shaw 
 and Henry went out to hunt; and while the men lounged 
 about the camp, I lay down to read in the shadow of the 
 cart. Looking up, I saw a bull grazing alone on the 
 prairie, more than a mile distant. I was tired of reading, 
 and taking my rifle I walked toward him. As I came 
 near, I crawled upon the ground until I approached to 
 within a hundred yards; here I sat down upon the grass 
 and waited till he should turn himself into a proper posi- 
 tion to receive his death-wound. He was a grim old 
 veteran. His loves and his battles were over for that 
 season, and now, gaunt and war-worn, he had withdrawn 
 from the herd to graze by himself and recruit his ex- 
 hausted strength. He was miserably emaciated; his 
 mane was all in tatters; his hide was bare and rough as 
 an elephant's, and covered with dried patches of the mud 
 in which he had been wallowing. He showed all his ribs 
 whenever he moved. He looked like some grizzly old 
 ruffian growm gray in blood and violence, and scowling 
 on all the w^orld from his misanthropic seclusion. The 
 old savage looked up when I first approached, and gave 
 me a fierce stare; then he fell to grazing again with an air 
 of contemptuous indifference. The moment after, as if 
 suddenly recollecting himself, he threw up his head^ 
 faced quickly about, and, to my amazement, came at a 
 rapid trot directly toward me. I was strongly impelled 
 to get up and run, but this would have been very dan- 
 gerous. Sitting quite still, I aimed, as he came on, at 
 the thin part of the skull above the nose. After he had 
 passed over about three-quarters of the distance between 
 us, I was on the point of firing, when, to my great satis- 
 faction, he stopped short. I had full opportunity of 
 
DOWN THE ARKANSAS 329 
 
 studying his countenance; his whole front was covered 
 with a huge mass of coarse, matted hair, which hung so 
 low that nothing but his. two forefeet were visible beneath 
 it; his short, thick horns were blunted and split to the 
 very roots in his various battles, and across his nose and 
 forehead were two or three large white scars, which gave 
 him a grim, and, at the same time, a whimsical appear- 
 ance. It seemed to me that he stood there motionless for 
 a full quarter of an hour, looking at me through the 
 tangled locks of his mane. For my part, I remained as 
 quiet as he, and looked quite as hard; I felt greatly in- 
 clined to come to terms with him. "My friend," thought 
 I, "if you'll let me off, I'h let you off." At length he 
 seemed to have abandoned any hostile design. Very 
 slowly and deliberately he began to turn about; httle by 
 little his side came into view, all beplastered with mud. 
 It was a tempting sight. I forgot my prudent intentions, 
 and fired my rifle; a pistol would have served at that 
 distance. Round spun old bull like a top, and away he 
 galloped over the prairie. He ran some distance, and 
 even ascended a considerable hill, before he lay down and 
 died. After shooting another bull among the hills, I went 
 back to camp. 
 
 At noon, on the fourteenth of September, a very large 
 Santa Fe caravan came up. The plain was covered with 
 the long files of their white-topped wagons, the close 
 black carriages in which the traders travel and sleep, 
 large droves of animals, and men on horseback and on 
 foot. They all stopped on the meadow near us. Our 
 diminutive cart and handful of men made but an insignifi- 
 cant figure by the side of their wide and bustling camp. 
 Tete Rouge went over to visit them, and soon came back 
 with half a dozen biscuits in one hand, and a bottle of 
 brandy in the other. I inquired where he got them. 
 "Oh," said Tete Rouge, "I know some of the traders. 
 Dr. Dobbs is there besides." I asked who Dr. Dobbs 
 might be. "One of our St. Louis doctors," replied Tete 
 Rouge. For two days past I had been severely attacked 
 by the saane disorder which had so greatly reduced my 
 strength when at the mountains ; at this time I was suffer- 
 ing not a little from the sudden pain and weakness which 
 
330 THE OREGON TRAIL 
 
 it occasioned. Tete Rouge, in answer to my inquiries, 
 declared that Dr. Dobbs was a physician of the first 
 standing. Without at all believing him, I resolved to 
 consult this eminent practitioner. Walking over to the 
 camp, I found him lying sound asleep under one of the 
 wagons. He offered in his own person but an indifferent 
 specimen of his skill, for it was five months since I had 
 seen so cadaverous a face. His hat had fallen off, and his 
 yellow hair was all in disorder; one of his arms supplied 
 ,the place of a pillow; his pantaloons were wrinklecl half- 
 way up to his knees, and he was covered with little bits of 
 grass and straw, upon which he had rolled in his uneasy 
 slumber. A Mexican stood near, and I made him a sign 
 that he should touch the doctor. Up sprang the learned 
 Dobbs, and sitting upright, rubbed his eyes and looked 
 about him in great bewilderment. I regretted the neces- 
 sity of disturbing him, and said I had come to ask pro- 
 fessional advice. 
 
 "Your system, sir, is in a disordered state,'^ said he, 
 solemnly, after a short examination. 
 
 I inquired what might be the particular species of dis- 
 order. 
 
 "Evidently a morbid action of the liver,'' replied the 
 medical man; "I will give you a prescription.'' 
 
 Repairing to the back of one of the covered wagons, 
 he scrambled in; for a moment I could see nothing of him 
 but his boots. At length he produced a box which he 
 had extracted from some dark recess within, and opening- 
 it, he presented me with a folded paper of some size. 
 "What is it?" said I. "Calomel," said the doctor. 
 
 Under the circumstances I would have taken almost 
 anything. There was not enough to do me much harm, 
 and it might possibly do good; so at camp that night I 
 took the poison instead of supper. 
 
 That camp is worthy of notice. The traders warned 
 us not to follow the main trail along the river, "unless," 
 as one of them observed, " you want to have your throats 
 cut ! " The river at this place makes a bend ; and a smaller 
 trail, known as "the Ridge-path," leads directly across 
 the prairie from point to point, a distance of sixty or 
 seventy miles. 
 
DOWN THE ARKANSAS 331 
 
 We followed this trail, and after travelling seven or 
 eight miles, we came to a small stream, where we en- 
 camped. Our position was not chosen with much fore- 
 thought or military skill. The water was in a deep hollow, 
 with steep, high banks; on the grassy bottom of this 
 hollow we picketed our horses, while we ourselves en- 
 camped upon the barren prairie just above. The oppor- 
 tunity was admirable either for driving off our horses or 
 attacking us. After dark, as Tete Rouge was sitting at 
 supper, we observed him pointing, with a face of speech- 
 less horror, over the shoulder of Henry, who was opposite 
 to him. Aloof amid the darkness appeared a gigantic 
 black apparition, solemnly swaying to and fro as it ad- 
 vanced steadily upon us. Henr}-, half-vexed and half- 
 amused, jumped up, spread out his arms and shouted. 
 The invader was an old buffalo-bull, who, with char- 
 acteristic stupidity, was walking directly into camp. It 
 cost some shouting and swinging of hats before we could 
 bring him first to a halt and then to a rapid retreat. 
 
 That night the moon was full and bright; but as the 
 black clouds chased rapidly over it, we were at one moment 
 in light and at the next in darkness. As the evening 
 advanced, a thunder-storm came up; it struck us with 
 such violence that the tent would have been blown over 
 if we had not interposed the cart to break the force of the 
 wdnd. At length it subsided to a steady rain. I lay 
 awake through nearly the whole night, listening to its 
 dull patter upon the canvas above. The moisture, which 
 filled the tent and trickled from everything in it, did not 
 add to the comfort of the situation. About twelve o'clock 
 Shaw went out to stand guard amid the rain and pitch 
 darkness. Munroe, the most vigilant as well as one of the 
 bravest among us, was also on the alert. When about 
 two hours had passed, Shaw came silently in, and touching 
 Henry, called him in a low, quick voice to come out. 
 ''What is it?" I asked. "Indians, I believe, '^ whispered 
 Shaw; "but lie still; I'll call you if there's a fight." 
 
 He and Henry went out together. I took the cover 
 from my rifle, put a fresh percussion-cap upon it, and 
 then, being in much pain, lay down again. In about five 
 minutes Shaw came in again. "All right," he said, as he 
 
332 THE OREGON TRAIL 
 
 lay down to sleep. Henry was now standing guard in his 
 place. He told me in the morning the particulars of the 
 alarm. Munroe's watchful eye discovered some dark 
 objects down in the hollow, among the horses, like men 
 creeping on all-fours. Lying flat on their faces, he and 
 Shaw crawled to the edge of the bank, and were soon 
 convinced that what they saw were Indians. Shaw 
 silently withdrew to call Henry, and they all lay watching 
 in the same position. Henry's eye is one of the best on 
 the prairie. He detected after a while the true nature of 
 the moving objects; they were nothing but wolves creep- 
 ing among the horses. 
 
 It is very singular that when picketed near a camp 
 horses seldom show any fear of such an intrusion. The 
 wolves appear to have no other object than that of 
 gnawing the trail-ropes of raw-hide by which the animals 
 are secured. Several times in the course of the journey 
 my horse's trail-rope was bitten in two by these nocturnal 
 visitors. 
 
 CHAPTER XXVII 
 
 THE SETTLEMENTS 
 
 "And some are in a far countree, 
 And some all restlessly at home; 
 But never more, ah never, we 
 
 Shall meet to revel and to roam." 
 
 — Siege of Corinth. 
 
 The next day was extremely hot, and we rode from 
 morning till night without seeing a tree or a bush or a 
 drop of water. Our horses and mules suffered much more 
 than we, but as sunset approached, they pricked up their 
 ears and mended their pace. Water was not far off. 
 When we came to the descent of the broad, shallow valley 
 where it lay, an unlooked-for sight awaited us. The 
 stream glistened at the bottom, and along its banks were 
 pitched a multitude of tents, while hundreds of cattle 
 were feeding over the meadows. Bodies of troops, both 
 horse and foot, and long trains of wagons, with men, 
 women, and children, were moving over the opposite ridge 
 
THE SETTLEMENTS 333 
 
 and descending the broad declivity in front. These were 
 the Mormon battahon in the service of the government, 
 together with a considerable number of Missouri volun- 
 teers. The Mormons were to be paid off in California, and 
 they were allowed to bring with them their families and 
 property. There was something very striking in the 
 half-military, half-patriarchal appearance of these armed 
 fanatics, thus on their way, with their wives and children, 
 to found, it might be, a Mormon empire in California. 
 We were much more astonished then pleased at the sight 
 before us. In order to find an unoccupied camping- 
 ground we were obliged to pass a quarter of a mile up 
 the stream, and here we were soon beset by a swarm of 
 Mormons and Missourians. The United States officer in 
 command of the whole came also to visit us, and re- 
 mained some time at our camp. 
 
 In the morning the country was covered with mist. 
 We were always early risers, but before we were ready 
 the voices of men driving in the cattle sounded all around 
 us. As we passed above their camp we saw, through the 
 obscurity, that the tents were falling and the ranks 
 rapidly forming; and mingled w^ith the cries of women 
 and children, the rolling of the Mormon drums and the 
 clear blast of their trumpets sounded through the mist. 
 
 From that time to the journey's end we met almost 
 every day long trains of government wagons laden with 
 stores for the troops, and crawling at a snail's pace 
 toward Santa Fe. 
 
 Tete Rouge had a mortal antipathy to danger, but on 
 a foraging expedition one evening he achieved an adven- 
 ture more perilous than had yet befallen any man in the 
 party. The night after we left "the Ridge-path" we 
 encamped close to the river. At sunset we saw a train 
 of wagons encamping on the trail, about three miles off; 
 and though we saw them distinctly, our little cart, as 
 it afterward proved, entirely escaped their view. For 
 some days Tete Rouge had been longing eagerly after a 
 dram of whiskey. So, resolving to improve the present 
 opportunity, he mounted his horse James, slung his 
 canteen over his shoulder, and set forth in search of his 
 favorite liquor. Some hours passed without his return- 
 
334 THE OREGON TRAIL 
 
 ing. We thought that he was lost, or perhaps that some 
 stray Indian had snapped him up. While the rest fell 
 asleep I remained on guard. Late at night a tremulous 
 voice saluted me from the darkness, and Tete Rouge and 
 James soon became visible advancing toward the camp. 
 Tete Rouge was in much agitation and big with some 
 important tidings. Sitting down on the shaft of the cart, 
 he told the following story: 
 
 When he left the camp he had no idea, he said, how 
 late it was. By the time he approached the wagoners it 
 w^as perfectly dark; and as he saw them all sitting around 
 their fires within the circle of wagons, their guns laid by 
 their sides, he thought he might as well give warning of 
 his approach, in order to prevent a disagreeable mistake. 
 Raising his voice to the highest pitch, he screamed out 
 in prolonged accents, '^ Camj) ahoy!" This eccentric 
 salutation produced anything but the desired result. 
 Hearing such hideous sounds proceeding from the outer 
 darkness, the wagoners thought that the whole Paw^nee 
 nation were about to break in and take their scalps. Up 
 they sprang, staring with terror. Each man snatched 
 his gun; some stood behind the wagons; some threw 
 themselves flat on the ground, and in an instant twenty 
 cocked muskets were levelled full at the horrified Tete 
 Rouge, who just then began to be visible through the 
 darkness. 
 
 "Thar they come!" cried the master-wagoner; "fire! 
 fire! Shoot that feller.^^ 
 
 "No, no!" screamed Tete Rouge, in an ecstasy of 
 fright; "don't fire, don't; I'm a friend, I'm an American 
 citizen ! " 
 
 "You're a friend, be you?" cried a gruff voice from 
 the wagons ; " then what are you yelling out thar for, like 
 a wild Injun? Come along up here if you're a man." 
 
 "Keep your guns p'inted at him/' added the master- 
 wagoner; "maybe he's a decoy, like." 
 
 Tete Rouge, in utter bewilderment, made his approach, 
 with the gaping muzzles of the muskets still before his 
 eyes. He succeeded at last in explaining his character 
 and situation, and the Missourians admitted him into 
 camp. He got no whiskey; but as he represented himself 
 
THE SETTLEMENTS 335 
 
 as a great invalid, and much suffering from coarse fare, 
 they made up a contribution for him of rice, biscuit, and 
 sugar from their own rations. 
 
 In the morning, at breakfast, Tete Rouge once more 
 related this story. We hardly knew how much of it to 
 believe, though, after some cross-questioning, we failed 
 to discover any flaw in the narrative. Passing by the 
 wagoner's camp, they confirmed Tete Rouge's account 
 in every particular. 
 
 "I wouldn't have been in that feller's place," said one 
 of them, '' for the biggest heap of money in Missouri." 
 
 To Tete Rouge's great wrath they expressed a firm 
 conviction that he was crazy. We left them after giving 
 them the advice not to trouble themselves about war- 
 whoops in the future, since they would be apt to feel an 
 Indian's arrow before they heard his voice. 
 
 A day or two after we had an adventure of another 
 sort with a party of wagoners. Henry and I rode for- 
 ward to hunt. After that day there was no probability 
 that we should meet with buffalo, and we were anxious to 
 kill one, for the sake of fresh meat. They were so wild 
 that we hunted all the morning in vain, but at noon, as 
 we approached Cow Creek, we saw a large band feeding 
 near its margin. Cow Creek is densely Hned with trees 
 which intercept the view beyond, and it runs, as we after- 
 ward found, at the bottom of a deep trench. We ap- 
 proached by riding along the bottom of a ravine. When 
 we were near enough, I held the horses while Henry 
 crept toward the buffalo. I saw him take his seat within 
 shooting distance, prepare his rifle, and look about to 
 select his victim. The death of a fat cow was certain, 
 when suddenly a great smoke arose from the bed of the 
 creek, with a rattling volley of musketry. A score of 
 long-legged Missourians leaped out from among the trees 
 and ran after the buffalo, who one and all took to their 
 heels and vanished. These fellows had crawled up the 
 bed of the creek to within a hundred yards of the buffalo. 
 Never was there a fairer chance for a shot. They were 
 good marksman; all cracked away at once, and yet not 
 a buffalo fell. In fact, the animal is so tenacious of life 
 that it requires no little knowledge of anatomy to kill it,. 
 
336 THE OREGON TRAIL 
 
 and it is very seldom that a novice succeeds in his first 
 attempt at " approaching.'' The balked Missourians were 
 excessively mortified, especially when Henry tpld them 
 that if they had kept quiet he would have killed meat 
 enough in ten minutes to feed their whole party. Our 
 friends, who were at no great distance, hearing such a 
 formidable fusilade, thought the Indians had fired the 
 volley for our benefit. Shaw came galloping on to recon- 
 noitre and learn if we were yet in the land of the living. 
 
 At Cow Creek we found the very welcome novelty of 
 ripe grapes and plums, which grew there in abundance. 
 At the Little iVrkansas, not much farther on, we saw the 
 last buffalo, a miserable old bull, roaming over the prairie 
 alone and melancholy. 
 
 From this time forAvard the character of the country 
 was changing every day. We had left behind us the 
 great arid deserts, meagerly covered by the tufted buffalo- 
 grass, with its pale green hue and its short shrivelled 
 blades. The plains before us were carpeted with rich and 
 verdant herbage sprinkled with flowers. In place of 
 buffalo we found plenty of prairie-hens, and we bagged 
 them by dozens without leaving the trail. In three or 
 four days we saw before us the broad woods and the 
 emerald meadows of Council Grove, a scene of striking 
 luxuriance and beauty. It seemed like a new sensation 
 as we rode beneath the resounding arches of these noble 
 woods. The trees were ash, oak, elm, maple, and hickory, 
 their mighty limbs deeply overshadowing the path, while 
 enormous grape-vines were entwined among them, purple 
 with fruit. The shouts of our scattered party, and now 
 and then a report of a rifle rang amid the breathing stillness 
 of the forest. We rode forth again with regret into the 
 broad light of the open prairie. Little more than a hun- 
 dred miles now separated us from the frontier settle- 
 ments. The whole intervening country was a succession 
 of verdant prairies, rising in broad swells and relieved by 
 trees clustering like an oasis around some spring, or 
 following the course of a stream along some fertile hol- 
 low. These are the prairies of the poet and the novelist. 
 We had left danger behind us. Nothing was to be feared 
 from the Indians of this region — the Sacs and Foxes, the 
 
THE SETTLEMENTS 337 
 
 Kansas, and the Osages. We had met with signal good 
 fortune. Although for five months we had been travel- 
 ling with an insufficient force through a country where 
 we were at any moment liable to depredation, not a single 
 animal had been stolen from us. And our only loss had 
 been one old mule bitten to death by a rattlesnake. 
 Three weeks after we reached the frontier, the Pawnees 
 and the Camanches began a regular series of hostilities 
 on the Arkansas trail, killing men and driving off horses. 
 They attacked, without exception, every party, large or 
 small, that passed during the next six months. 
 
 Diamond Spring, Rock Creek, Elder Grove, and other 
 camping-places besides were passed, all in quick succes- 
 sion. At Rock Creek we found a train of government 
 provision wagons under the charge of an emaciated old 
 man in his seventy-first year. Some restless American 
 devil had driven him into the wilderness at a time when 
 he should have been seated at his fireside with his grand- 
 children on his knees. I am convinced that he never 
 returned; he was complaining that night of a disease, 
 the wasting effects of which upon a younger and stronger 
 man, I myself had proved from severe experience. Long 
 ere this, no doubt, the wolves have howled their moon- 
 light carnival over the old man's attenuated remains. 
 
 Not long after we came to a small trail leading to Fort 
 Leavenworth, distant but one day's journey. Tete Rouge 
 here took leave of us. He was anxious to go to the fort 
 in order to receive payment for his valuable military 
 services. So he and his horse James, after bidding an 
 affectionate farewell, set out together, taking with them 
 as much provision as they could conveniently carry, 
 including a large quantity of brown sugar. On a cheer- 
 less, rainy evening we came to our last encamping ground. 
 Some pigs belonging to a Shawanoe farmer were grunting 
 and rooting at the edge of the grove. 
 
 "I wonder how fresh pork tastes?" murmured one of 
 the party, and more than one voice murmured in response. 
 The fiat went forth, "That pig must die," and a rifle was 
 levelled forthwith at the countenance of the plumpest 
 porker. Just then a wagon-train with some twenty Mis- 
 sourians, came out from among the trees. The marksman 
 
338 THE OREGON TRAIL 
 
 suspended his aim, deeming it inexpedient under the cir- 
 cumstances to consummate the deed of blood. 
 
 In the morning we made our toilet as well as circum- 
 stances would permit, and that is saying but very little. 
 In spite of the dreary rain of 3^esterday, there never was 
 a brighter and gayer autumnal morning than that on 
 which we returned to the settlements. We were passing 
 through the country of the half-civilized Shawanoes. It 
 was a beautiful alternation of fertile plains and groves, 
 whose foliage was just tinged with the hues of autumn, 
 while close beneath them rested the neat log-houses of 
 the Indian farmers. Every field and meadow bespoke 
 the exuberant fertility of the soil. The maize stood rus- 
 tling in the wind, matured and dry, its shining yellow ears 
 thrust out between the gaping husks. Squashes and 
 enormous yellow pumpkins lay basking in the sun m the 
 midst of their brown and shrivelled leaves. Robins and 
 blackbirds flew about the fences; and everything, in 
 short, betokened our near approach to home and civiliza- 
 tion. The forests that border on the Missouri soon rose 
 before us, and we entered the wide tract of shrubbery 
 which forms their outskirts. We had passed the same 
 road on our outward journey in the spring, but its aspect 
 was totally changed. The young wild apple trees, then 
 flushed with their fragrant blossoms, were now hung thickly 
 with ruddy fruit. Tall grass flourished by the roadside 
 in place of the tender shoots just peeping from the warm 
 and oozy soil. The vines w^ere laden with dark purple 
 grapes, and the slender twigs of the maple, then tasselled 
 with their clusters of small red flowers, now hung out a 
 gorgeous display of leaves stained b}'^ the frost with burn- 
 ing crimson. On every side we saw the tokens of maturity 
 and decay, where all had before been fresh and beautiful. 
 We entered the forest, and ourselves and our horses were 
 checkered, as we passed along, by the bright spots of 
 sunlight that fell between the opening boughs. On either 
 side the dark, rich masses of foliage almost excluded the 
 sun, though here and there its raj^s could find their way 
 down, striking through the broad leaves and lighting 
 them with a pure transparent green. Squirrels barked 
 at us from the trees; coveys of young partridges ran 
 
THE SETTLEMENTS 339 
 
 rustling over the leaves below, and the golden oriole, 
 the blue-jay, and the flaming red-bird darted among the 
 shadowy branches. We hailed these sights and sounds 
 of beauty by no means with an unmingled pleasure. 
 Many and powerful as were the attractions which drew 
 us toward the settlements, we looked back even at that 
 moment with an eager longing toward the wilderness of 
 prairies and mountains behind us. For myself, I had 
 suffered more that summer from illness than ever before 
 in my life, and yet to this hour I cannot recall those 
 savage scenes and savage men w^ithout a strong desire 
 again to visit them. 
 
 At length for the first time during about half a year, 
 w^e saw the roof of a white man's dwelHng between the 
 opening trees. A few moments after we were riding over 
 the miserable log-bridge that leads into the centre of 
 Westport. Westport had beheld strange scenes, but a 
 rougher looking troop than ours, with our worn equip- 
 ments and broken-down horses, was never seen even there. 
 We passed the well-remembered tavern, Boone's grocery, 
 and old Vogle's dram-shop, and encamped on a meadow 
 beyond. Here we were soon visited by a number of 
 people, who came to purchase our horses and equipage. 
 This matter disposed of, we hired a wagon and drove on 
 to Kansas Landing. Here we were again received under 
 the hospitable roof of our old friend, Colonel Chick, and 
 seated under his porch, we looked down once more on 
 the eddies of the Missouri. 
 
 Delorier made his appearance in the morning, strangely 
 transformed by the assistance of a hat, a coat, and a 
 razor. His little log-house was among the woods not 
 far off. It seemed he had meditated giving a ball on the 
 occasion of his return, and had consulted Henry Chatillon 
 as to whether it would do to invite his hou7yeois. Henry 
 expressed his entire conviction that we would not take 
 it amiss, and the invitation was now proffered accord- 
 ingly, Delorier adding as a special inducement that 
 Antoine Lajeunesse was to play the fiddle. We told him 
 we would certainly come, but before the evening arrived 
 a steamboat, which came down from Fort Leavenworth, 
 prevented our being present at the expected festivities. 
 
340 THE OREGON TRAIL 
 
 Delorier was on the rock at the landing-place, waiting to 
 take leave of us. 
 
 "Adieu! mes bourgeois, adieu! adieu!" he cried out 
 as the boat put off; "when you go another time to de 
 Rocky Montagues I will go with you; yes, I will go! " 
 
 He accompanied this patronizing assurance by jump- 
 ing about, swinging his hat, and grinning from ear to 
 ear. As the boat rounded a distant point, the last object 
 that met our eyes was Delorier, still lifting his hat and 
 skipping about the rock. We had taken leave of Munroe 
 and Jim Gurney at Westport, and Henry Chatillon went 
 down in the boat with us. 
 
 The passage to St. Louis occupied eight days, during 
 about a third of which time we were fast aground on 
 sand-bars. We passed the steamer "Amelia," crowded 
 with a roaring crew of disbanded volunteers swearing, 
 drinking, gambling, and fighting. At length one evening 
 we reached the crowded levee of St. Louis. Repairing 
 to the Planters' House we caused diligent search to be 
 made for our trunks, which, after some time, were dis- 
 covered stowed away in the farthest corner of the store- 
 room. In the morning we hardly recognized each other; 
 a frock of broadcloth had supplanted the frock of buck- 
 skin; well-fitted pantaloons took the place of the Indian 
 leggings, and polished boots were substituted for the 
 gaudy moccasins. 
 
 After we had been several days at St. Louis we heard 
 news of Tete Rouge. He had contrived to reach Fort 
 Leavenworth, where he had found the paymaster and 
 received his money. As a boat was just ready to start 
 for St. Louis he went on board and engaged his passage. 
 This done, he immediately got drunk on shore, and the 
 boat went off without him. It was some days before 
 another opportunity occurred, and meanwhile the sutler's 
 stores furnished him with abundant means of keeping up 
 his spirits. Another steamboat came at last, the clerk 
 of which happened to be a friend of his, and by the advice 
 of some charitable person on shore, he persuaded Tete 
 Rouge to remain on board, intending to detain him there 
 until the boat should leave the fort. At first Tete Rouge 
 was well contented with this arrangement, but on apply- 
 
THE SETTLEMENTS 341 
 
 ing for a dram, the bar-keeper, at the clerk's instigation, 
 refused to let him have it. Finding them both inflexible 
 in spite of his entreaties, he became desperate and made 
 his escape from the boat. The clerk found him, after a 
 long search, in one of the barracks; a circle of dragoons 
 stood contemplating him as he lay on the floor, maudlin 
 drunk and crying dismally. With the help of one of them 
 the clerk pushed him on board, and our informant, who 
 came down in the same boat, declares that he remained 
 in great despondency during the whole passage. As we 
 left St. Louis soon after his arrival, we did not see the 
 worthless, good-natured little vagabond again. 
 
 On the evening before our departure, Henry Chatillon 
 came to our rooms at the Planters' House to take leave 
 of us. No one who met him in the streets of St. Louis 
 would have taken him for a hunter fresh from the Rocky 
 Mountains. He was very neatly and simply dressed in a 
 suit of dark cloth; for although since his sixteenth year he 
 had scarcely been for a month together among the abodes 
 of men, he had a native good taste and a sense of propriety 
 which always led him to pay great attention to his per- 
 sonal appearance. His tall athletic figure, with its easy 
 flexible motions, appeared to advantage in his present 
 dress; and his fine face, though roughened by a thousand 
 storms, was not at all out of keeping with it. We took 
 leave of him with much regret; and unless his changing 
 ■features, as he shook us by the hand, belied him, the 
 •feeling on his part was no less than on ours.'''' Shaw had 
 
 * I cannot take leave of the reader without adding a word of the 
 guide who had served us throughout with such zeal and fidehty. 
 Indeed, his services had far surpassed the terms of his engagement. 
 Yet, whoever had been his employers, or to whatever closeness of 
 intercourse they might have thought fit to admit him, he would 
 never have changed the bearing of quiet respect which he consid- 
 ered due to his bourgeois. If sincerity and honor, a boundless gen- 
 erosity of spirit, a delicate regard to the feelings of others, and a 
 nice perception of what was due to them, are the essential char- 
 acteristics of a gentleman, then Henry Chatillon deserves the title. 
 He could not write his own name, and he had spent his life among 
 savages. In him sprang up spontaneously those qualities which all 
 the refinements of life and intercourse with the highest and best of 
 the better part of mankind fail to awaken in the brutish nature of 
 some men. In spite of his bloody calling, Henry was always hu- 
 
342 THE OREGON TRAIL 
 
 given him a horse at Westport. My rifle, which he had 
 always been fond of using, as it was an excellent piece, 
 much better than his own, is now in his hands, and per- 
 haps at this moment its sharp voice is startling the echoes 
 of the Rocky Mountains. On the next morning we left 
 town, and after a fortnight of railroads and steamboats 
 we saw once more the famili^^r features of home. 
 
 mane and merciful; he was gentle as a woman, though braver than 
 a lion. He acted aright from the free impulses of his large and 
 generous nature. A certain species of selfishness is essential to the 
 sternness of spirit which bears down opposition and subjects the 
 will of others to its own. Henry's character was of an opposite 
 stamp. His easy good-nature almost amounted to weakness; yet, 
 while it unfitted him for any position of command, it secured the 
 esteem and good- will of all those who were not jealous of his skill 
 and reputation. 
 
 THE END 
 
NOTES 
 
 The Oregon Trail was first published in the Knickerbocker 
 Magazine, beginning in 1847. Two years later it appeared in 
 book form. The excitement following the discovery of gold 
 in California induced the publishers to change the title to The 
 California and Oregon Trail. In the fourth edition, 1872, the 
 original title was restored. 
 
 The present edition follows the full text of the original 
 volume of 1849. The edition of 1872 was revised and greatly 
 al^l^reviated. Parkman's punctuation differs in many respects 
 from our usage to-day, but it has been retained as far as possible. 
 His spelling has also been retained except when wrong or follow- 
 iig a usage now entirely discredited. 
 
 CHAPTER I 
 
 5. the journey to Oregon and California. From Independence 
 and Westport, Missouri, northwest and southwest led two great 
 trails. The Oregon Trail ascended the Platte River to the 
 Rocky Mountains, where it followed the famous South Pass 
 between the Rocky and Wind River Mountains. From this 
 point it descended the Snake River and the Columbia to the 
 heart of Oregon country. Northwest of Great Salt Lake a 
 branch trail three years after Parkman's trip led the "Forty- 
 Niners" to California. The Oregon Trail, in its more than two 
 thousand miles between Independence and Fort Vancouver, 
 presented to the emigrants no signs of civilized habitation 
 except at four trading posts. Parkman reached only the first 
 of these. Fort Laramie. The Oregon Trail was the longest and 
 greatest continuous highway kno'WTi to history. In places it 
 w^as more than one hundred feet wide, as can still he seen after 
 many years of disuse. It was not built, but made — explored 
 by traders and carved into a deep furrow by the thousands of 
 emigrants who took advantage of the last great opportunity of 
 empire-building that the West can offer. 
 
 Santa F^. The trail leading southwest from Independence 
 crossed Kansas diagonally, and continued in the same general 
 direction to Santa Fe. At the Arkansas River the trail crossed 
 into what was in 1846 Mexican territory. In 1843, there were 
 350 men and 230 wagons engaged in the Santa Fe trade, and 
 the merchandise was valued at $750,000. 
 
 levee, a term applied in the West to the steep bank of a river, 
 also to a landing place, wharf, or quay. Here it refers to the 
 wharf region at St. Louis. 
 
 343 
 
344 NOTES 
 
 Quincy A. Shaw was Parkman's cousin. The fourth and 
 subsequent editions have contained the following dedication: 
 
 TO 
 
 THE COMHADE OF A SUMMER AND THE FRIEND OF A LIFETIME, 
 
 QUINCY ADAMS SHAW. 
 
 guards, the two side extensions of the deck of a river steam- 
 boat, frequently reaching as far as the outside of the paddle- 
 boxes. 
 
 Oregon emigrants. As the treaty with England fixing the 
 Northwest boundary was not made until later in the year, 
 Oregon still meant the whole country west of the Rocky 
 Mountains from Mexico (California) to parallel 54^ 40' 
 (Alaska). 
 
 6. " mountain men," trappers and hunters of the Rocky 
 Mountains and the prairie eastward. " No man, unless he be 
 a sailor, carries a warmer heart and stronger arm for those who 
 need him and honorably trust him, than these rough mountain, 
 men." — William Barrows' Oregon. 
 
 Kansas. The Kansa, or Kaw, Indians dwelt in the valley 
 of the river which bears their name. From the Kansas River, 
 the state of Kansas and Kansas City are named. 
 
 abattis, in military affairs, a defense formed by felled trees 
 which have their branches sharpened and directed towards the 
 enemy. 
 
 great western movement. It has been estimated that by the 
 close of 1846 seven thousand emigrants had passed over the 
 Oregon Trail. 
 
 7. Independence. Franklin, Missouri, was the first out- 
 fitting point for the overland trade. As the towm was gradually 
 washed into the Missouri River, the steamboats landed farther 
 up the stream at Independence, which from about 1827 rose 
 to the first rank. Within a few years the river had destroyed 
 the landing at Independence and the traffic moved farther up 
 stream to Westport Landing, and Westport became the starting- 
 point for the Oregon and Santa Fe trails. 
 
 Kansas, i.e., Kansas Landing, also called Westport Landing, 
 in the heart of what is now Kansas City, Missouri. 
 
 my good friend. Colonel Chick. W. M. Chick, in the year of 
 Parkman's trip, became an organizer of the first towm com- 
 pany of Kansas City. 
 
 7 and 8. Sacs and Foxes. These tribes united and took pos- 
 session of the Upper Mississippi. After the Black Hawk War, 
 1832, they were removed southwest to what was known by the 
 indefinite term Indian Country. 
 
 8. Shawanoes, a wandering tribe hard to identify with any 
 one place. At the time of Parkman's visit they were located on 
 a reservation south of the site of Kansas City. Their name, also 
 spelled Savanna and Shawnee, means "Southerners." 
 
 Delawares, a tribe which had been pushed by successive 
 
NOTES 345 
 
 stages from the Delaware River to the Indian Country west of 
 the Missiouri. 
 
 Wyandots, called Hurons by the French, in 1846, occupied 
 the site of Wyandotte, one of the four cities which united to 
 form Kansas City, Kansas. 
 
 The great number of Indians here mentioned by Parkman is 
 explained when we remember that until the organization of 
 Kansas as a territory, 1854, it was one vast Indian Territory 
 containing as many as twenty tribes, most of whom had been 
 removed thither from the eastward. 
 
 Captain C. and Mr. R. Why are these names not written in 
 full? 
 
 trail-rope, a rope for leading and picketing horses. 
 
 11. the dragoons. See Chapter IV, second paragraph, 
 shaft-mule, one to draw a cart, as distinguished from the 
 
 pack-mule, mentioned in the following chapter. 
 
 12. Daniel Boone, from the time he crossed the Alleghanies in 
 1769, was the leader of the frontiersmen of Kentucky. They 
 were farmers, trappers, and Indian fighters combined. 
 
 CHAPTER II 
 
 13. Indian apple, the May apple. 
 
 patois (pa-twa'), illiterate, provincial speech. 
 
 " Sacre enfant de garce." Sacre, the usual French word of 
 profanity, is here coupled with a vile epithet. In Chapter 
 XXVI Parkman humorously calls the expression "a Canadian 
 title of honor, made doubly emphatic by being usually applied 
 together with a cut of the whip, to refractory mules and horses." 
 
 14. Jean Baptiste, a servant, as John the Baptist, who referred 
 to his Master as "He that cometh after me, the latchet of whose 
 shoe I am not worthy to unloose." Among the fur-traders of 
 the Rockies the servants were mostly French Canadians, and 
 Jean Baptiste came to mean a Canadian. 
 
 bourgeois (boor zwha'), master, governor, employer, or 
 "boss." 
 
 Fur Company, the American Fur Company. See note p. 94. 
 
 15. Anglo-American, a member of the Enghsh race in America. 
 " lope," colloquial for gallop. 
 
 16. Pawnee. They rivaled the Comanches as terrors to the 
 traders and emigrants. 
 
 17. Methodist Shawnee Mission, in what has since become a 
 part of Kansas City. Several denominations had missions 
 in Kansas and Nebraska, which were then an Indian reserva- 
 tion. 
 
 slaves. Parkman's visit was nearly ten years prior to 
 " Bleeding Kansas." 
 
 Lower Delaware Crossing, over the Kansas River near its 
 confluence with the Missouri. 
 
 18. hobbled, legs tied together in such a way as to prevent 
 freedom of motion. 
 
346 NOTES 
 
 Pontiac. "The diary of 1845 shows that he had now focussed 
 his ambitions on a definite work, the Conspiracy of Pontiac." 
 — Famham's Life of Parkman. 
 
 Ogillallah, a tribe of the Teton branch of the Dakota Indians. 
 They traded at Fort Laramie. 
 
 Crows, a large tribe in Montana continually at war with the 
 Dakota. 
 
 rafting, transporting the horses on a ferry made of logs. 
 
 20. Spanish bit, one with long, fanciful branches. 
 
 tree, i.e., saddle-tree, the wooden frame of the saddle. 
 
 CHAPTER III 
 
 21. General Kearney. Stephen W. Kearney was one of the 
 
 three leading generals of the Mexican War. 
 
 block-house, a square military structure of two stories, with 
 loopholes for musketry. 
 
 rumors of war. The Mexican War began in May, 1846. 
 
 22. expedition against Santa F6, one of the three principal 
 expeditions of the Mexican War, commanded by General 
 Kearney. 
 
 Kickapoo, a tribe which had removed from the Ohio Valley 
 to Kansas. This particular division gave their name to the 
 present town of Kickapoo, where they were located when Park- 
 man visited them. 
 
 23. pukwi, Pottawattamies (properly Potewatmik). In 1846 
 the two bodies of this tribe were united on a reservation in 
 southern Kansas. In A Half Century of Conflict, Parkman 
 describes their lodges as "structures of bark, very high, very- 
 long, and arched like garden arbors." 
 
 Creole, of French or Spanish descent, and living in what was 
 formerly Louisiana Territory. The Creoles were a mixed race. 
 
 CHAPTER IV 
 
 25. sixteen to the pound calibre. This means that the rifle 
 carried bullets yj? of a pound in weight. 
 
 " Avance done! " The meaning of this French expression 
 is repeated in the English immediately following. 
 
 Blackstone's Commentaries. Sir William Blackstone (1723- 
 1780) is noted chiefly for his Commentaries on the Laws of Eng- 
 land, still recognized as an indispensable preparation for admis- 
 sion to the bar. 
 
 Expedition under Colonel Kearney, 1845, to treat with and 
 impress the Indians. 
 
 grand trail of the Oregon emigrants up the Platte. After 316 
 miles across country, the Oregon Trail reached the Platte about 
 twenty miles below the head of Grand Island. As the Platte 
 marked the division between the upper and lower Missouri 
 River, it was sometimes spoken of as the Equator. It has als3 
 
({^ NOTES 347 
 
 ^^een called "the most magnificent and the most useless, of 
 rivers"; but it is more significantly described as "a thousand 
 miles long and six inches deep." Cf. The Expedition of Lewis 
 and Clark, Vol. I, Chapter I. 
 
 Mazeppa, the hero of Byron's poem of the same name, was 
 tied to the back of a wild horse, which was then turned loose 
 in the Russian wilderness. 
 
 26. tent-pickets, tent stakes. 
 
 27. sacr€s, oaths. 
 
 slough (pronounced sloo with this meaning, common in the 
 western part of the United States), a long, shallow ravine, or an 
 open creek. 
 
 29. *' Great American Desert." In spite of the ridicule of 
 late years, the early geographers were not wrong when they 
 placed such a desert their maps. But the many exceptions to 
 the ruling character of the region upset all early predictions in 
 regard to the future of the "desert." See the location given 
 p. 60. It should have been located farther w^est, and given a 
 still greater latitude. 
 
 32. vidette (or vedette), a sentinel, usually a horseman, 
 
 34. village of the Iowa Indians, on the west bank of the 
 Missouri, between the mouths of the Wolfe and Great Nemaha 
 rivers, where they still live. 
 
 St. Joseph's trail, the middle one of the three northern 
 "feeders" of the Oregon Trail. 
 
 CHAPTER V 
 
 34. Latter Day Saints, the Mormons. 
 
 35. *' Gentiles," used here from the Mormon point of view to 
 designate all outside the Mormon church. 
 
 38. " dor-bug," the dor-beetle. 
 
 39. in the classic mode, without chairs. 
 
 41. " Voulez vous du souper, tout de suite?" Do you want 
 some supper at once? 
 
 " sous la charette," under the cart. 
 
 45. Oakum complexion, tow-colored, the color of old rope. 
 Bond Street, London, between Oxford Street and Piccadilly, 
 
 though now filled with shops, was formerly a fashionable prom- 
 enade. 
 
 46. Macaulay's Lays. Macaulay's Lays of Ancient Rome, pub- 
 lished in 1842, made a very favorable impression, notwith- 
 standing the lament of the poet Leigh Hunt that the Lays "do 
 not have the true poetic aroma which breathes from ' The Faerie 
 Queene.'" 
 
 Eothen, a series of letters "From the East," written by 
 Kinglake, was published anonymously in 1844. 
 
 Milnes, Richard Monckton (1809-85), an Enghsh poet, was 
 created Baron Houghton in 1863. His lyric poetry is of a high 
 order. 
 
 Kinglake, Alexander Wilham (1809-90), an EngHsh historian, 
 
348 NOTES 
 
 was the author of Eothen and the History of the Invasion of the 
 Crimea. 
 
 Borrow, The Bible in Spain. George Borrow, after his travels 
 in Spain as agent for the British and Foreign Bible Society, 
 wrote the interesting account entitled The Bible in Spain, 
 published in 1843. 
 
 Judge Story. Joseph Story, jurist and author, died at Cam- 
 bridge in 1845. 
 
 47. " The livelong day ..." See Scott's Marmion, Canto III, 
 Stanza XIII. 
 
 48. lariette, a lariat, or lasso. 
 
 pent-house, a shed, a lean-to. Cf . Merchant of Venice, Act. II, 
 scene 6: 
 
 "This is the pent-house under which Lorenzo 
 Desired us to make stand." 
 
 Hibernian, Irish. 
 
 49. " Big Blue/' a large branch of the Kansas River, rising 
 very near the Platte. 
 
 50. Mahomet and the refractory mountain. Mahomet, to 
 prove his power, commanded the mountain to come to him. 
 When it remained unmoved, he said, "If the mountain will not 
 come to Mahomet, Mahomet will go to the mountain." 
 
 vapor, to talk idly. 
 
 CHAPTER VI 
 
 51. the old legitimate trail of the Oregon emigrants, i.e., 
 the trail from Independence. The trail from St. Joseph came in 
 eight miles beyond the Big Blue, near the present Ballard Falls. 
 
 52. a piece of plank. There is now (1910) a bill before 
 Congress appropriating $50,000 for the purpose of erecting 
 suitable monuments marking the Oregon Trail — a remarkable 
 contrast to the poverty of these earliest memorials. 
 
 common occurrence. "A highway of desolation, strewn with 
 abandoned property, the skeletons of horses, mules, and oxen, 
 and, alas! too often, with freshly made mounds and head- 
 boards that told the pitiful tale of sufferings too great to be 
 endured. If the Trail was the scene of romance, adventure, 
 pleasure, and excitement, so it was marked in every mile of ito 
 course by human misery, tragedy, and death." — Chittenden, 
 History of the American Fur Trade of the Far West. 
 
 56. oui, oui. Monsieur; yes, yes sir. 
 
 58. their villages on the Platte, i.e., upon the Loup Fork of 
 the Platte, where the Pawnees lived and carried on agriculture 
 to some extent. There were four distinct villages. 
 
 the civilized accomplishment of barking. See Mr. Jack 
 London's stories. The Call of the Wild and WTiite Fang. 
 
 Dahcotah, or Dakota, the name by which these Indians pre- 
 ferred to be called. The name means "Allies." They were 
 also called the "League of the Seven Council Fires." Sioux, 
 the French designation, is the term by which they are generally 
 
NOTES 349 
 
 known. ''Sioux" is a contraction of ''Nadonesioux," meaning 
 "little snakes," i.e., enemies. The name was given the Dakota 
 by the Ojibwaj's, to whom the Iroquois were known as "big 
 snakes," and the Dakota as "little snakes." On page 131, 
 Parkman calls the name Sioux "meaningless." 
 
 59. the Platte lay before us. The scene is near the head of 
 Grand Island. 
 
 60. " The Great American Desert." As this name was gradu- 
 ually being transferred to a region farther west, Parkman 
 omitted it from the 1872 edition. 
 
 62. Fur Company. By "Fur Company" or just "Company," 
 the American Fur Company is always meant. The western 
 headquarters were at St. Louis. See note, p. 94. 
 
 63. capote, a long overcoat, with a hood. 
 
 CHAPTER VII 
 
 63. bois de vache, dried buffalo dung; locally called "cow 
 chips." 
 
 buttes, low, detached mountains which rise abruptly from the 
 plain. 
 
 tall white wagons, known as the ''prairie schooners." 
 
 prickly pear {Cactus opiintia), also known as Indian fig. . 
 
 67. to " run," " approach." These two methods of killing 
 buffalo are explained in detail at the beginning of Chapter 
 XXIV. 
 
 68. old Papin (P. D. Papin) was a member of the French Fur 
 Company which had been forced out by the monopoly (The 
 American Fur Company) in 1830. He entered the service of 
 the latter in the same year. 
 
 bourgeois. In the 1872 edition the author adds the words, 
 or "boss." The bourgeois was the manager of the trading 
 post. 
 
 The boats. Bull-boats were used exclusively on the Platte. 
 They were made of buffalo skins stretched over a frame of 
 willow and cottonwood, and had a draught of only four inches 
 of water. 
 
 70. Tom, from Tom o' Bedlam, the English term for a harm- 
 lessly insane person. 
 
 scot-free; literally, free from payment of tax; unhurt. 
 
 71. prairie-dogs. The prairie-dog among animals and the 
 sage brush among plants, though both are said to be the most 
 useless of living things, are the two objects that first attract 
 the traveler's notice. 
 
 72. snaffle, a bridle bit with a joint in the middle. 
 
 curb. A chain or strap behind the jaw of the horse, connected 
 with a stiff bit in such a way as to form a fulcrum for the 
 branches of the bit which act as levers. 
 
350 NOTES 
 
 CHAPTER VIII 
 
 78. Taking French Leave, taking leave without giving 
 notice. 
 
 SO. their ancestors. The Teutonic tribes overspread Europe 
 at the time of the fall of the Roman Empire. The emigrants of 
 whom Parkman speaks were descendants of Angles, Saxons, 
 Danes, and Normans, branches of the Teutonic race. 
 
 83. Ash Hollow, where the Trail touched the North Platte, 
 since famous as the scene of a bloody battle between Little 
 Thunder, chief of the Brule Indians, and the Second Regiment 
 of United States Dragoons. 
 
 84. patriarchal scene. A patriarch is a father and ruler of a 
 family, as in Bible times when several generations dwelt together. 
 In classes other than the emigrants the patriarchal organization 
 was noticeable in the AVest; as in the cases of Indian villages, 
 and trading posts. 
 
 Scott's Bluff. Scott was one of a party of fur-traders descend- 
 ing the Platte in canoes in 1830. Near the mouth of Laramie 
 River the boat was upset and their powder and provisions lost. 
 Scott fell sick and could not proceed. His companions, realizing 
 that unless they reached the main party some miles in advance 
 they would be lost, abandoned him to save themselves, and 
 told the party that he had died of his disease. Next year the 
 same traders, ascending the river, found his skeleton on what 
 has since been called Scott's Bluff. Sick and starving, he had 
 crawled upwards of fifty miles before death had put an end 
 to his sufferings. 
 
 85. Smoke's village. The word village, as applied to Indian 
 tribes, refers to the community rather than to the place of 
 abode. 
 
 86. Horse Creek, a large southern tributary of the Platte, 
 rises in Wyoming and joins the Platte in Nebraska. 
 
 87. Macbeth's witches. The three witches in Shakespeare's 
 Macbeth are represented as being hideously ugly. See Act I, 
 scenes 1 and 3. 
 
 88. Le Cochon, the hog. 
 
 89. Black Hills. Not the Black Hills as we now use the term, 
 for they are due north from Parkman's position. Numerous 
 mountain ranges between the Missouri and the Rocky Moun- 
 tains were called the Black Hills in 1846. The peaks referred 
 to were in the Laramie range. 
 
 cotton-wood trees. The cottonwood, a species of poplar, was 
 the most important, practically the only tree, in the whole 
 region. It grew along water courses. It furnished fuel, shelter, 
 food for horses, boats ("dugouts"), and palisades for forts. 
 
 little trading fort. Fort Richard, built about 1843. 
 
 Richard, or Richards, notorious as a smuggler for Pratte, 
 Cabanne & Co., the owners of Fort Platte, referred to later in 
 this chapter. 
 
 90. Navaho slave, from New Mexico, west of Taos, which was 
 
NOTES 351 
 
 the place where Richards began his operations in smuggling 
 whiskey across the Mexican border for the fur-traders. 
 Shongsasha, red willow bark. See p. 176. 
 
 91. another post of less recent date. Fort Platte, built by 
 Pratte, Cabanne & Co. 
 
 its successful competitor, Fort Laramie, built by the American 
 Fur Company. It was built on the site of Fort William (Fort 
 Jolm) which was erected by Robert Campbell for the Rocky 
 Mountain Fur Co., in 1834. 
 
 92. " At the first plunge ..." See Scott's Lay of the Last 
 Minstrel, Canto First, Stanza XXIX. 
 
 CHAPTER IX 
 
 92. engages, hired men, bound for a period of five years, at 
 such low wages that at the end of the period they were sure 
 to be in the company's debt. They would then be bound for 
 another five years, unless they resorted to the dangerous expe- 
 dient of desertion. 
 
 not traders. The bourgeois as a servant of the monopoly was 
 jealous of any independent company coming upon the scene 
 of action. 
 
 93. admiration, wonderment. 
 
 91. " American Fur Company." Incorporated by John Jacob 
 Astor in 1808, with headquarters at Michilimackinac. In 1822 
 the company opened its Western Department at St. Louis. 
 After it absorbed the Columbia Fur Company, 1828, "the 
 company" or "the Fur Company" always meant the American 
 Fur Company, among all the traders of the West. According 
 to the best authority, it was "thoroughly hated even by its 
 own servants." 
 
 bastions, parts of the fort which project at the corners of the 
 walls. 
 
 banquette, a raised bank inside a parapet, for musketeers. 
 
 corral, a common device in the West. The Oregon emigrants 
 often formed one when necessary by drawing their wagons up 
 in such a way as to form an inclosure. 
 
 95. " great medicine," very wonderful. The "medicine man" 
 was the conjurer, the magician of the tribe. 
 
 Jesuit or Puritan. The Jesuits are a society of Catholic 
 missionaries. They were especially prominent in the French 
 explorations and settlements in America. The Puritans were 
 not so famous as missionaries; however, the "Apostle to the 
 Indians," John Eliot, spent his life in the work, and translated 
 the Bible into the Indian language. Two of Parkman's ances- 
 tors preached to the Indians in their own tongue. For the 
 story of the western missions, see " A History of Oregon Missions," 
 by Rev. Gustavus Hines, and "The Bridge of the Gods," by 
 F. H. Balch. 
 
 98. May, William P., a trader of the Missouri River, had been 
 
352 NOTES 
 
 put out of business by the American Fur Company in 1843, 
 and like the others had then entered the service of "the Com- 
 pany." 
 
 the traveller Catlin. George CatUn, the artist, was on the 
 first steamboat on the upper Missouri, 1832. His chief work 
 was painting Indian portraits from hfe. He completed about 
 500. They are now in the National Museum. Parkman did 
 not trust CatUn's Indian studies, and spoke of him as a " garru- 
 lous and windy writer." 
 
 Laramie Creek, the main southern tributary of the North 
 Platte. 
 
 travaux, a combination of the French word traineau and the 
 Canadian travois. 
 
 100. voyageur, a boatman, a canoe man, especially the 
 Canadian. Voyageurs made inland journeys sometimes thou- 
 sands of miles in extent, carrying their canoes from the tribu- 
 taries of one river to another. 
 
 Monterey, Buena Vista. Two battles of the Mexican War, 
 in which the troops from the South and what were then western 
 states showed great bravery. 
 
 102. unless troops are speedily stationed. In the same year 
 that the Oregon Trail appeared in book form, the United States 
 government bought Fort Laramie. 
 
 Brule, a branch of the Teton Dakotas. 
 
 Meneaska, Dakota for ivhite men. 
 
 lamentable in the extreme. About 1,000 settlers in northern 
 Minnesota were massacred in 1862 by the Dakota; Fetterman's 
 detachment at Fort Kearney, 100 men, met the same fate in 
 1866, and the massacre of Gen. Custer's command in 1876 is the 
 well-known climax to this series. 
 
 104. Spanish flies, the blister-beetles. 
 
 105. "Western State." The idea of Oregon's becoming a 
 state was ridiculed for a decade or more after Parkman 's 
 journey. 
 
 lOG. South Pass, where the Oregon Trail crossed the Rocky 
 Mountains, 947 miles from Independence, Missouri. Although 
 it was less than half the distance to their destination, "Here 
 hail Oregon!" was the emigrants' cry as they emerged from the 
 Pass. 
 
 CHAPTER X 
 
 106. Snake country, the country west of the Dakota tribes; 
 in particular, the basin of the Snake River. 
 
 107. partisan, the commander of a detachment sent on a 
 special enterprise. Cf. Irving's Adventures of Captain Bonne- 
 ville, Chapter V: "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 trapper." 
 
 La Bont^'s camp, a temporary trading house on the Platte 
 established about 1841, at the mouth of La Bonte Creek. 
 
NOTES ■ 353 
 
 make myself an inmate. A typical example of Parkman's 
 method of gathering historical material. 
 
 109. same disorder, dysentery. 
 
 Rio Grande, i.e., in the Mexican War. 
 
 long-haired Canadian, named Raymond. 
 
 female animal. Parkman had written in his diary the year 
 before: "Is not a half-educated vulgar weiak woman a disgusting 
 animal?" Parkman's "appreciation of feminine character was 
 both ardent and discriminating." — Farnham. 
 
 travail, the singular number of the word travaux, described in 
 the preceding chapter. 
 
 110. absanth, called wild sage in the 1872 edition. It_ is 
 better known as sage brush. This despised plant, covering 
 vast regions of the West, is soon to be made use of in the manu- 
 facture of wood alcohol, creosote, tar, pitch, acetic acid, and 
 charcoal. 
 
 112. daguerreotype, a process of photography invented by a 
 Frenchman, named Daguerre, about 1839. 
 
 par' fleche, rawhide. 
 
 113. Chugwater, a creek flowing into the Laramie, southwest 
 of the fort. 
 
 115. Capuchin friar. The Capuchins, a branch of the Fran- 
 ciscan order of monks, were so named because of their cowl 
 (capuche). This was a pointed hood attached to the coat. 
 
 Pierre Dorion was the son of a French Creole, Durion, the 
 interpreter who accompanied the Lewis and Clark Expedition, 
 1804-5. Durion's wife was a Sioux squaw. His son's wife 
 was also a squaw. She and her children accompanied Pierre 
 on the overland expedition to found Astoria, 1811. 
 
 Jim Beckwith, a mulatto, was an adopted chief of the Crow 
 Indians. When he dictated his "Autobiography" some years 
 later, he became "James P. Beckwourth." He was a notorious 
 prevaricator, and his autobiography is filled with fabrications. 
 
 117. Minnicongew, a branch of the Teton Dakotas living on 
 the prairies of Eastern Dakota. 
 
 118. bowie-knife, a hunting-knife, named from its inventor, 
 Colonel Bowie. 
 
 grandsons of Daniel Boone. Members of the overland expe- 
 dition to Astoria saw Daniel Boone at Charette, an old French 
 village on the Missouri. He had, as Irving says, "kept in 
 advance of civilization." He was then in his eighty-fifth year. 
 
 fed upon each other's flesh. On one of Fremont's expeditions 
 to the Rockies, his men w^ere reduced to cannibalism. Professor 
 Meany, in his History of the State of Washington, cites John 
 Bigelow's campaign "Memoir "as follows: "Colonel Fremont 
 came out to us and after referring to the dreadful necessities to 
 which his men were reduced on a previous expedition, of eating 
 each other, he begged us to swear that in no extremity of hunger 
 would any of his men lift his hand against, or attempt to prey 
 upon a comrade; sooner let them die with them than live upon 
 them." 
 
354 NOTES 
 
 119. Fort Pierre, on the upper Missouri, northeast of Fort 
 Laramie. 
 
 120. unless they should learn, etc. Why is this put in itahc 
 letters? 
 
 121. " free trapper." He worked on his own account, and 
 was bound to no company. He dealt mostly in the finer kinds 
 of fur. 
 
 125. ten lost tribes of Israel. Samuel Sewall of Colonial fame 
 was especially partial to this view. 
 
 CHAPTER XI 
 
 126. Albania, a region in the western part of European 
 Turkey. 
 
 130. did the hardest labor. ''They would despise their hus- 
 bands could they stoop to any menial office, and would think 
 it contained an imputation on their own conduct. It is the 
 worst insult one virago can cast upon another in a moment of 
 altercation. 'Infamous woman,' will she cry, 'I have seen 
 your husband carrying wood mto his lodge to make a fire. 
 Where was his squaw, that he should be obliged to make a 
 woman of himself? ' " — Irving's Astoria. 
 
 131. King Philip was the leader of King PhiHp's War in New 
 England. Pontiac organized the Indians against the English 
 at the close of the French and Indian War. Tecumseh, with his 
 brother the "Prophet," aided the British in the W^ar of 1812. 
 
 river St. Peter's. On Robert Greenhow's map, published in 
 London two years before Parkman's trip, the Minnesota River 
 is indicated by the name St. Peter's. The name has been out 
 of use for a quarter of a century. The river was the eastern 
 boundary of the Dakota Indian tribes. 
 
 132. Teutonic chiefs of old. From the Teutonic race we get 
 many of our ideas of democracy. 
 
 " Parks " (Spanish parque), high plateau-like valleys in the 
 Rockies, one each at the headwaters of the North ajid of the 
 South Fork of the Platte. 
 
 133. When the buffalo are extinct. It was said that the 
 buffalo retreated before the white man at the rate of ten miles 
 a year. Buffalo were exterminated in the space of one genera- 
 tion. The year after Parkman's visit, 110,000 buffalo robes 
 were received at St. Louis. Tliis represented only a small 
 part of the females killed, for every Indian required from one 
 to three for clothing and as many more for shelter. The Indians 
 themselves saw, as well as did the whites, the decline of their 
 race in the extinction of the buffalo. 
 
 134. " Semper paratus," always ready. 
 
 Nestor, the oldest councillor of the Greeks before Troy. 
 
 135. Le Borgne, the one-eyed man. 
 
 138. Apollo of bronze, i.e., a bronze statue of Apollo, the 
 sun-god. 
 
 140. M. Richard, proprietor of Fort Richard, mentioned above. 
 
NOTES 355 
 
 141. pommes blanches (literally, white apples), an herb 
 yielding an edible tuberous root; also called prairie apple, 
 prairie turnip, Missouri bread-root, and Cree potato. It makes 
 up a large part of the Dakota Indian's food. 
 
 Salvator Rosa (1615-1673), a Neapolitan painter famous for 
 banditti scenes. 
 
 142. Vatican, a group of buildings near St. Peter's, Rome^ 
 including the Pope's residence. 
 
 that warrior, known as ''The Mad Wolf." 
 
 Pythian Apollo, the slaying Apollo. The god slew the Python, 
 a monster serpent born from the stagnant waters after the 
 Deluge. 
 
 West, Benjamin (1738-1820), an American painter. 
 
 Belvidcre. The statue of Apollo Belvidere. 
 
 Mohawk. An Indian tribe of Central New York possessmg 
 marked physical development. 
 
 143. a critical one. " The Oregon Trail trip thus cost Parkman 
 his health for life."— Farnham, .4. Life of Francis Parkman. 
 
 pen of another, Quincy Adams Shaw. 
 
 144. enemy. ''He used to call his infirmities 'the enemy' 
 with a quiet tone of humor and patience; the phrase covered 
 many a solitary struggle of untold heroism." — Farnham. 
 
 dark superstitions and gloomy legends. "No other mountains 
 in the entire West surpassed them in this regard (i.e., legends 
 concerning their mysterious labyrinths)." — Chittenden, History 
 of the Fur Trade. See Irving's Astoria, Chapter XXVI. 
 
 CHAPTER XII 
 
 146. Pike's Peak, the best known of the Rocky Mountains, 
 was discovered by General Pike in 1806. 
 
 " A bird in the hand." Finish this proverb and show its 
 application. 
 
 149. Horse-Shoe Creek, flowing from Laramie Peak eastward 
 to the Platte. 
 
 CHAPTER XIII 
 
 153. Leatherstocking, one of the names for the hero of Cooper's 
 Leather stocking Tales. He has other favorite names, as Hawk- 
 eye, Deerslayer, Pathfinder. 
 
 156. Bitter Cotton-wood Creek, between Horse-Shoe Creek and 
 Laramie River. 
 
 Mount Laramie, i.e., Laramie Peak, just west of Fort Laramie. 
 
 158. Black Hills. In the 1872 edition Parkman changed this 
 to Mount Laramie. By that time the term Black Hills was well 
 on its way to being finally fixed upon the range in South Dakota, 
 and was losing its broader application of the days of the Fur 
 Trade. 
 
 159. white in my calendar, memorablj^ fortunate. The 
 Romans " marked with a white stone (chalk) " the lucky days 
 in their calendar. 
 
356 NOTES 
 
 160. a quiet student, in the Harvard Law School, where, 
 with Parkman, literature usurped the place of law. 
 
 sea-coal. All coal except charcoal was formerly so called 
 because the first consignment was brought from Newcastle to 
 London by sea. 
 
 Apennines. ''There is unbounded sublimity in the Coliseum 
 by moonhght, — that cannot be denied, — St. Peter's, too, is a 
 miracle in its way; but I would give them all for one ride on 
 horseback among the Apermines." — Sedgwick's Francis Park- 
 man. 
 
 162. scored, cut. 
 
 165. " locust," the cicada or harvest-fly. 
 
 167. Arapahoes, a tribe on the headwaters of the Platte and 
 the Arkansas rivers. 
 
 Gros-ventre (big-bodied) Blackfeet, the Blackfeet of the 
 paririe. They have been called ''the most relentlessly hostile 
 tribe ever encountered by the whites in any part of the West." 
 
 168. shingly, gravelly. 
 
 170. genius loci, the spirit of the place. 
 
 Frascati's, either the Grand Hotel Frascati, at Frascati, south 
 of Rome, or the well-known London restaurant. 
 
 Trois Freres Provengaux, a well-known Paris restaurant. 
 Parkman thus expresses the difference between Paris restaurants 
 and London dining-rooms: " In Paris the tables are set in elegant 
 galleries and saloons and among the trees and flowers of a 
 garden . . . The waiters spring from table to table as noiselessly 
 as shadows, prompt at the slightest sign; a lady, elegantly 
 attired, sits within an arbor to preside over the whole. Dine at 
 these places, . . . then go to a London dining-room — swill 
 porter and devour roast beef!" — Parkman's Dia-y. 
 
 Tom Crawford, of the White Mountains. Parkman visited 
 Crawford's the summer between his junior and his senior year at 
 Harvard. 
 
 171. " surround." See the extended description of this at 
 the beginning of Chapter XV. 
 
 172. Medicine Bow, in northern Colorado and southern 
 Wyoming. 
 
 CHAPTER XIV 
 
 174. Pacific Railroad. A New Yoxk merchant, Asa Whitney, 
 began agitation for a Pacific Railroad in LS41. He secured 
 a hearing before Congress in 1845, and the first report to 
 Congress was made in 1846 by the Chairman of the Committee 
 on Pacific Lands. The first road was complet-ed in 1869. 
 There are now nine " Pacific Railroads." 
 
 175. Shienne, or Cheyenne, in the Black Hills north of Fort 
 Laramie. 
 
 176. " How, cola! " a greeting expressive of great approval. 
 179. " soldiers," a kind of policemen, or peace officers. See 
 
 the second paragraph of the next chapter. 
 
NOTES 357 
 
 181. How! how! how! how! Compare Father Le Moyne's 
 greeting by the Iroquois, " Old Regime," Chapter I: " They were 
 dehghted; and their ejaculations of approval — hoh-hoh-hoh — 
 came thick and fast at every pause of his harangue." 
 
 185. " Et haec etiam ..." Virgil, Book I, 1. 203: "And 
 perhaps sometimes it will even be a pleasure to remember these 
 hardships. " 
 
 187. Mackenzie, Kenneth (1801-1861), "the ablest trader 
 that the American Fur Company ever possessed." 
 
 Taos, about fifty miles north of Santa Fe, was farthest north 
 of all the Pueblo villages. 
 
 Nez Perc6 mission (na-per-sa') . The "Pierced Nose" Indians 
 lived in Idaho, Washington, and Oregon. The mission was 
 established at Lapwai, Idaho, about nine years before Parkman's 
 trip. 
 
 188. " lights," colloquial for lungs. 
 
 190. black and green crickets, grasshoppers. 
 
 Root Diggers. The Pai-Utes, or Digger Indians, were the 
 lowest type of all the Indians of the West, 
 
 a sort of soup. Father De Smet, after an interesting descrip- 
 tion of a grasshopper "drive," remarks: "They have their 
 tastes like other people. Some eat the grasshoppers in soup; 
 others mash them and make a kind of pie of them, which they 
 harden or bake in the sun or dry by the fire; others still take 
 pointed sticks, on which they string the larger grasshoppers, 
 and as fast as they are sufficiently roasted, the poor Indians 
 regale themselves until the repast is entirely consumed." 
 
 to find the buffalo. Some people of the Middle West still ask 
 the "grand daddy long-legs" which way to go through the 
 woods to find the cows. Those who have tried it will certainly 
 remember the "evident embarrassment" of "grand daddy." 
 
 CHAPTER XV 
 
 193. pemmican, wasna. Lean meat cut into thin slices and 
 dried in the sun. After this process it is sometimes pounded 
 into a paste and mixed with melted fat or dried fruit. Cf. 
 Peary's " Discovery of North Pole" in January Hampton's (1910). 
 
 203. Sancho Panza, the squire in Cervantes' Don Quixote. 
 ground-squirrels, small, burrowing squirrels, one species of 
 
 which is called chipmunk. 
 
 204. squibs and serpents. The squib is a tube filled with 
 gunpowder which explodes somewhat like a rocket. The 
 serpent burns zig-zag. Parkman as a boy instituted a chemical 
 laboratory in his father's barn. 
 
 Fremont's Expedition. John C. Fremont led five expeditions 
 to the West. On these rests his fame as Pathfinder. Three 
 expeditions were made prior to Parkman's trip. 
 
 great repute as a " fire-medicine." Parkman enjoyed similar 
 repute among the boys of his own neighborhood, as is shown 
 by the following boyish announcement: "Grand exhibition! 
 
358 NOTES 
 
 Mr. F. Parkman — at the request of a large proportion of the 
 citizens of this 'great metropoUs' [Boston], has consented to 
 exhibit his truly astonishing, not to say wonderful and amazing 
 exhibition of Phisyoramic Pyrotecnicon! or Pyrric Fires! — The 
 performance will comprise, The pyramids and globes, the full 
 sun (this piece cost $200), magic wheel, Transparency of Lord 
 Nelson, etc." 
 
 205. a lineal descent. This was the belief at the bottom of 
 the use of totems as emblems of the tribe or of the individual. 
 
 CHAPTER X\T 
 
 214. Sweetwater, a river in central Wyoming, flowing into the 
 Platte, and draining the region of the Sweetwater Mountains. 
 
 219. " if there was not much wit ..." From Goldsmith's 
 Vicar of Wakefield, Chapter IV: " What the conversation wanted 
 in wit was made up in laughter." 
 
 221. fraternities. See the opening chapter of The Conspiracy 
 of Pontiac. 
 
 CHAPTER XVII 
 
 223. fell, a barren, rocky hill. 
 
 beaver dams and lodges. The beavers were a mine of wealth 
 to traders and trappers. The beaver lodge was built near the 
 shore, with the living room above the water. The dam was 
 built to increase the depths of the water in shallow streams. 
 
 CHAPTER XVIII 
 
 229. There's plenty of it here. Gold was discovered there in 
 1874. The Black Hills proved to be one of the richest gold- 
 mining districts of the United States. The trappers and traders 
 seemed to be particularly blind when it came to observing the 
 geological features of the West. 
 
 230. Witch-hazel rod, the divining-rod, superstitiously thought 
 to aid in discovering veins of water, mines, etc. 
 
 CHAPTER XIX 
 
 241. nom de guerre, assumed name, nickname. 
 
 242. forests of Maine, Adirondack, the scenes of Parkman's 
 vacation trips. 
 
 243. genius, spirit. 
 
 St. Peter's. Parkman took part in this carnival, driving with 
 Theodore Parker and his wife. 
 
 Mount Etna. "Mount vEtna is smoking vigorously in front 
 of us. We are skirting the shore of Sicily." — Parkman's Diary. 
 
 Passionist convent, in Rome. " I was shown a room in the 
 middle of the building, which contained hundreds of chambers 
 connected by long and complicated passages, hung with pictures 
 of saints and crucifixes." — Parkman's Diary. 
 
 Splugen, an Alpine pass, connectmg the valleys of Hinterrhein 
 
NOTES 359 
 
 and the Meira. Speaking of one of the wildest and loneliest 
 scenes there, Parkman says: "I never knew a place so haunted 
 by ' those airy tongues that syllable men's names. ' " 
 
 244. Andeer, a village in the canton of Grisons, Switzerland. 
 "I never left any place with more regret than these moun- 
 tains." 
 
 245. the Ogillallah tongue, a dialect of the Dakota. Con- 
 siderable literature is preserved in the Dakota language, and at 
 the present time two Dakota newspapers are published. 
 
 248. mountains were on fire; the forest fire. 
 
 249. " washtay," translated by the word just following. 
 
 253. worst of the three. Byron was one of Parkman 's favorite 
 authors. The last book he read was Childe Harold. 
 
 CHAPTER XX 
 
 253. antres, caverns. 
 
 254. Sublette. Four brothers of this name were prominent 
 in the fur trade of the West. In one generation the family 
 became extinct. 
 
 255. Comanches, a martial tribe ranging along the foot of the 
 Rocky Mountains. 
 
 Russel's party. Col. William H. Russel, of Kentucky, started 
 with a party of 350 emigrants. At Fort Bridger dissensions 
 arose. Russel finally succeeded in reaching California with a 
 few of the original party. 
 
 Captain Wyeth, of Boston, led a party over the Oregon Trail 
 in 1832. Although his trip was a notable accomplisiiment, his 
 business venture was a financial failure. 
 
 257. apocryphal, imaginary. 
 
 Utah squaw. The Utes lived east of Great Salt Lake, 
 
 " Gochi's Hole"." A "hole" is a level area surrounded by 
 hills; the term is used in the northern part of the Rocky 
 Mountains. It is equivalent to "Park" in the southern part of 
 the Rockies. 
 
 259. Pueblo. This name was applied to a number of mud 
 forts on the Arkansas above Bent's Fort. The one Parkman 
 visited was probably on the site of the present city of Pueblo. 
 
 261. war had been declared with Mexico. President Polk's 
 message, May 11, 1846, read: "War exists, and notwithstanding 
 all our efforts to avoid it, exists by the act of Mexico herself." 
 
 Matamoras, captured May 18, 1846. 
 
 262. poncho. A narrow blanket with a slit for the head to 
 pass through. The blanket hangs down before and behind, 
 leaving the arms free. 
 
 " to daff the world aside ..." First Part of King Henry the 
 Fourth, Act III, scene 1: 
 
 "The nimble-footed madcap Prince of Wales, 
 And his comrades, that daff'd the world aside 
 And bid it pass." 
 
360 NOTES 
 
 Paganini (1782-1840), a noted Italian violinist. He was 
 famous for his execution on the single G-string. 
 
 2(>3. tutelary spirit, a guardian spirit or genius. 
 
 264. horned frog, also called horned toad. It is not a frog, 
 but a lizard shaped like a frog. It has spikes all over its back 
 and especially long ones on its head. 
 
 gave up the ghost. The author adds (1872), "he now occupies 
 a bottle of alcohol in the Agassiz Museum." This is the zoologi- 
 cal museum of Harvard University. 
 
 26(>. Long's Peak, about forty miles northeast of Denver. 
 
 207. Scylla and Charybdis, a rock and whirlpool in the Straits 
 of Messina. " We steered down between Scylla and Charybdis 
 and in half an hour were fairly out of the Sicilian Sea. The 
 ghost of departed perils still lingers about the scene — an apology 
 for a whirlpool on one side still — bearing the name of Scylla — 
 and an insignificant shoal on the other." — Parkman's Diary. 
 
 Saint Patrick, the patron saint of Ireland, banished the 
 reptiles from the country, according to a legend related by 
 Jocelyn. 
 
 268. Sweating lodges — the Turkish baths of the Indians. . 
 
 "To the sweat-house went Cecil forthwith. He found it to be a little 
 arched hut made by sticking the ends of bent willow wands into the ground 
 and covering them over with skins, leaving only a small opening for entrance. 
 When a sick person wished to take one of these 'sweat baths' so common 
 among the Indians, stones were heated red hot and put within the hut, 
 and water was poured on them. The invalid, stripped to the skin, entered, 
 the opening was closed behind him and he was left to steam in the vapors." 
 —The Bridge of the Gods. Bk. IV. Chap. II, p. 177. 
 
 " 'This little framework is an Indian bath-house . . In the spring ni&iits 
 when tlie willows begin to blossom they bend the branches into the shape 
 you see here, and they place two big stones in the hut and across them the 
 skull of a buffalo with horns pointing north. Then they cover the hut with 
 blankets and creep inside and build a big fire. There they kpeel in the 
 smoke, and the sweat rolls from them and they are purified. And they 
 pray to their God in a loud voice to drive back the white man to his home 
 across the water, and they know that some day these things will be, for the 
 horns are good medicine and their God talks to them through the smoke. 
 Then they run out quickly to the ice-cold river and jump in. After that 
 they sit in the blankets all night and sing songs that are very strange, for 
 they are very sad'." — The Old Man at Lone Pine, Nassau Lit, Mag., vol. 
 59. 
 
 M. St. Vrain. St. Vrain's Fort was also called Fort George. 
 It was built at the junction of the St. Vrain Creek and the South 
 Platte. 
 
 still another fort, known by two names, Lupton and Lan- 
 caster. It was also built of adobe. The ruins are still visible. 
 
 269. Cherry Creek, a branch of the South Platte, flowing 
 northward into the main stream at Denver. 
 
 270. " Des Sauvages!" Indians! 
 
 271. Dark Suli. A mountainous district in the western part 
 of European Turkey. 
 
 Pindus. A range of mountains in Greece, between Thessaly 
 and Epirus. 
 
 " Their hand is ... " See Genesis xvi: 12. 
 
NOTES 361 
 
 sky of Naples. The Bay of Naples is noted for its beautiful 
 shore and its sunsets. 
 
 Capri, a small island near Naples famed for its bold and 
 picturesque scenery. 
 
 272. " La Fontaine q^i Bouille," Boiling Spring Creek. 
 
 CHAPTER XXI 
 
 272. glaive, a poetic word for sword. 
 
 wall of mud, i.e., adobe, unburned brick dried in the sun. 
 
 273. Turkish fashion, cross-legged. 
 
 Palo Alto and Resaca de la Palma, two battles of the Mexican 
 War, fought by General Taylor, May 8 and 9, 1846. 
 
 274. Mormons. This was the beginning of the Mormon emi- 
 gration to Utah, which took place chiefly during the two years 
 following. 
 
 275. The human race. In the southwestern part of the 
 United States the position of the Mexicans is very forcibly 
 expressed by the contemptuous term Greaser, applied to them 
 by Americans. 
 
 276. Nauvoo, a once flourishing city of about 10,000, built 
 by the Mormons, in Illinois. They were forced to abandon the 
 city in 1846, the year of Parkman's trip. Joseph Smith, their 
 leader, had been killed by a mob two years before. Their new 
 prophet was Brigham Young. 
 
 Bent's Fort, in Colorado on the Arkansas River, then the 
 boundary line between the United States and Mexico. Charles 
 Bent, a pioneer with his brother, William, in the Santa Fe trade, 
 was the first United States governor of New Mexico. He was 
 assassinated the next year in Taos. A graphic account of this 
 is given in the Literary Digest, Jan. 29. 1910. Bent's Fort was 
 built in 1829, at a place near the present town of La Junta. 
 
 discharged him. "The hunter Raymond perished in the snow 
 during Fremont's disastrous passage to the mountains in the 
 winter of 1848." — Preface to the 1872 edition. 
 
 278. yager, an antiquated rifle of the United States army. 
 
 a sailor. Seamen are notoriously poor riders. Compare with 
 the description of the Shipman in Chaucer's Canterbury Tales: 
 
 "He rode upon a rouncy as he coude." 
 
 Bridger's Fort, southwest of South Pass, was the second great 
 stopping-place on the Oregon Trail. Jim Bridger was the 
 "Grand Old Man of the Mountains," and could not endure the 
 "canyons of the city," as he called the streets of St. Louis. 
 
 CHAPTER XXII 
 
 279. Tete Rouge, red head. 
 
 280. Calomel, a mild chloride of mercury. Some decades ago 
 it rivaled quinine as a cure-all. 
 
 283. to get foul o-f, to come into collision with. 
 
362 NOTES 
 
 CHAPTER XXIII 
 
 285. train of Santa Fe wagons. After Governor Armigo of 
 New Mexico began to tax all wagons at $500 duty, regardless 
 of size, the Santa Fe wagons developed into enormous insti- 
 tutions. 
 
 The Caches (Kash or Kash), five miles west of where Dodge 
 City now stands. In Parkman's day the mossy pits were still 
 objects of interest to travelers, but they have now been washed 
 into the river. A cache is a hole dug in the ground to hide 
 provisions in safety for a time. The term is used especially in 
 northern regions and by the Indians, who are expert at such 
 concealments. 
 
 289. Maxwell the trader. Lucien Maxwell later married the 
 daughter of Beaubien, and purchased that part of the Beaubien 
 Grant known as Maxwell rancho. He erected on the head- 
 waters of the Cimarron River in New Mexico a palatial resi- 
 dence in which for years he entertained with medieval hos- 
 pitality. He accompanied the Fremont Expeditions, 1842 and 
 1843-4. See Fremont's Report, printed by order of the U. S. 
 Senate, 1845. 
 
 CHAPTER XXIV 
 
 293. Caledon, Scotland. 
 
 298. Kit Carson (1809-1868), a trapper, guide, soldier, and 
 Indian agent of the Southwest. 
 
 298. Oui, bien charge, yes, well loaded. 
 C'est un bon fusil, it is a good gun. 
 
 CHAPTER XXV 
 
 309. " Victory," Nelson's flagship in the battle of Trafalgar, 
 1805. 
 
 310. Persons. Richard Porson (1759-1808) was an English 
 scholar famous for his knowledge of Greek. He was educated 
 at Eton and Cambridge, and taught at Cambridge. 
 
 Fleet Street, London, leading to the Strand and the West End, 
 is now one of the busiest streets in the world. 
 
 Chesterfield, Earl of (1694-1773). He was distinguished for 
 his polished manners. His one important production was his 
 Letters to his Son. 
 
 311. jester, or court fool. He carried a bauble and was 
 dressed in motley and cap with bells. 
 
 313. " preferring the tyranny of the open night." Cf. King 
 Lear, Act. Ill, scene 4: 
 
 "The tyranny of the open night's too rough 
 For nature to endure." 
 
NOTES 363 
 
 CHAPTER XXVI 
 
 816. the old trail of the Cimarron, the main Santa Fe trail. 
 It formed the hypotenuse of a triangle, the other two sides of 
 which were formed by the trails from the Caches to Bent's 
 Fort, and from Bent's Fort to Santa Fe. 
 
 Price's Missouri regiment. Stirling Price w^as a colonel of 
 Missouri cavalry in the Mexican War. He was made a brigadier- 
 general. He served the Confederacy during the Civil War. 
 
 317. Doniphan's regiment. Doniphan, a lawyer, was Colonel 
 of the First Missouri. He commanded at the battle of Sacra- 
 mento. 
 
 the battle of Sacramento. In 1847, with scarcely 1,000 men, 
 he marched 200 miles, met a force of 4,000 at Sacramento Pass, 
 and defeated them with great loss — 800 killed and wounded — ■ 
 while his own loss was only one man killed and eleven wounded. 
 
 318. Springfield Carbines, a single breech-loader manufac- 
 tured by the government, at Springfield; Massachusetts. 
 
 CHAPTER XXVII 
 
 333. the Mormon battalion. Five hundred men were enlisted 
 for service for twelve months. They were sent to California, 
 w^here they were discharged, retaining all their accoutrements. 
 
 331. " Camp ahoy! " Ahoy is a sailor's term used to attract 
 the attention of someone at a distance. 
 
 335. Cow Creek, a small stream emptying into the Arkansas 
 at Hutchinson. 
 
 336. Little Arkansas. It reaches the Arkansas at Wichita. 
 Council Grove, where Santa Fe caravans were organized. 
 
 The grove was a mile in width and of several miles in extent. 
 It was named by the Santa Fe Road Commissioners, w^ho in 
 1825 made treaties with the Indians at that place. 
 
 337. Diamond Spring, according to Gregg, the historian of the 
 Santa Fe Trail, "a crystal fountain discharging itself into a 
 small brook." It was southwest of Council Grove, and the two 
 places could not have been passed in the order in which Parkman 
 gives them. Rock Creek and Elder Grove are east of Council 
 Grove. 
 
 339. Kansas Landing, Kansas City. 
 
 310. <* Adieu, mes bourgeois." Good-byC; my masters. 
 
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