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CHAPTER 4
An alarm Crow Indians Their appearance Mode of approach Their
vengeful errand Their curiosity Hostility between the Crows and
Blackfeet Loving conduct of the Crows Laramie's Fork First
navigation of the Nebraska Great elevation of the country Rarity
of the atmosphere Its effect on the wood-work of wagons Black
Hills Their wild and broken scenery Indian dogs Crow trophies
Sterile and dreary country Banks of the Sweet Water Buffalo
hunting Adventure of Tom Cain the Irish cook
WHEN ON THE MARCH, Captain Bonneville always sent some of his
best hunters in the advance to reconnoitre the country, as well
as to look out for game. On the 24th of May, as the caravan was
slowly journeying up the banks of the Nebraska, the hunters came
galloping back, waving their caps, and giving the alarm cry,
Indians! Indians!
The captain immediately ordered a halt: the hunters now came up
and announced that a large war-party of Crow Indians were just
above, on the river. The captain knew the character of these
savages; one of the most roving, warlike, crafty, and predatory
tribes of the mountains; horse-stealers of the first order, and
easily provoked to acts of sanguinary violence. Orders were
accordingly given to prepare for action, and every one promptly
took the post that had been assigned him in the general order of
the march, in all cases of warlike emergency.
Everything being put in battle array, the captain took the lead
of his little band, and moved on slowly and warily. In a little
while he beheld the Crow warriors emerging from among the bluffs.
There were about sixty of them; fine martial-looking fellows,
painted and arrayed for war, and mounted on horses decked out
with all kinds of wild trappings. They came prancing along in
gallant style, with many wild and dexterous evolutions, for none
can surpass them in horsemanship; and their bright colors, and
flaunting and fantastic embellishments, glaring and sparkling in
the morning sunshine, gave them really a striking appearance.
Their mode of approach, to one not acquainted with the tactics
and ceremonies of this rude chivalry of the wilderness, had an
air of direct hostility. They came galloping forward in a body,
as if about to make a furious charge, but, when close at hand,
opened to the right and left, and wheeled in wide circles round
the travellers, whooping and yelling like maniacs.
This done, their mock fury sank into a calm, and the chief,
approaching the captain, who had remained warily drawn up, though
informed of the pacific nature of the maneuver, extended to him
the hand of friendship. The pipe of peace was smoked, and now all
was good fellowship.
The Crows were in pursuit of a band of Cheyennes, who had
attacked their village in the night and killed one of their
people. They had already been five and twenty days on the track
of the marauders, and were determined not to return home until
they had sated their revenge.
A few days previously, some of their scouts, who were ranging the
country at a distance from the main body, had discovered the
party of Captain Bonneville. They had dogged it for a time in
secret, astonished at the long train of wagons and oxen, and
especially struck with the sight of a cow and calf, quietly
following the caravan; supposing them to be some kind of tame
buffalo. Having satisfied their curiosity, they carried back to
their chief intelligence of all that they had seen. He had, in
consequence, diverged from his pursuit of vengeance to behold the
wonders described to him. "Now that we have met you," said he to
Captain Bonneville, "and have seen these marvels with our own
eyes, our hearts are glad." In fact, nothing could exceed the
curiosity evinced by these people as to the objects before them.
Wagons had never been seen by them before, and they examined them
with the greatest minuteness; but the calf was the peculiar
object of their admiration. They watched it with intense interest
as it licked the hands accustomed to feed it, and were struck
with the mild expression of its countenance, and its perfect
docility.
After much sage consultation, they at length determined that it
must be the "great medicine" of the white party; an appellation
given by the Indians to anything of supernatural and mysterious
power that is guarded as a talisman. They were completely thrown
out in their conjecture, however, by an offer of the white men to
exchange the calf for a horse; their estimation of the great
medicine sank in an instant, and they declined the bargain.
At the request of the Crow chieftain the two parties encamped
together, and passed the residue of the day in company. The
captain was well pleased with every opportunity to gain a
knowledge of the "unsophisticated sons of nature," who had so
long been objects of his poetic speculations; and indeed this
wild, horse-stealing tribe is one of the most notorious of the
mountains. The chief, of course, had his scalps to show and his
battles to recount. The Blackfoot is the hereditary enemy of the
Crow, toward whom hostility is like a cherished principle of
religion; for every tribe, besides its casual antagonists, has
some enduring foe with whom there can be no permanent
reconciliation. The Crows and Blackfeet, upon the whole, are
enemies worthy of each other, being rogues and ruffians of the
first water. As their predatory excursions extend over the same
regions, they often come in contact with each other, and these
casual conflicts serve to keep their wits awake and their
passions alive.
The present party of Crows, however, evinced nothing of the
invidious character for which they are renowned. During the day
and night that they were encamped in company with the travellers,
their conduct was friendly in the extreme. They were, in fact,
quite irksome in their attentions, and had a caressing manner at
times quite importunate. It was not until after separation on the
following morning that the captain and his men ascertained the
secret of all this loving-kindness. In the course of their
fraternal caresses, the Crows had contrived to empty the pockets
of their white brothers; to abstract the very buttons from their
coats, and, above all, to make free with their hunting knives.
By equal altitudes of the sun, taken at this last encampment,
Captain Bonneville ascertained his latitude to be 41 47' north.
The thermometer, at six o'clock in the morning, stood at
fifty-nine degrees; at two o'clock, P. M., at ninety-two degrees;
and at six o'clock in the evening, at seventy degrees.
The Black Hills, or Mountains, now began to be seen at a
distance, printing the horizon with their rugged and broken
outlines; and threatening to oppose a difficult barrier in the
way of the travellers.
On the 26th of May, the travellers encamped at Laramie's Fork, a
clear and beautiful stream, rising in the west-southwest,
maintaining an average width of twenty yards, and winding through
broad meadows abounding in currants and gooseberries, and adorned
with groves and clumps of trees.
By an observation of Jupiter's satellites, with a Dolland
reflecting telescope, Captain Bonneville ascertained the
longitude to be 102 57' west of Greenwich.
We will here step ahead of our narrative to observe that about
three years after the time of which we are treating, Mr. Robert
Campbell, formerly of the Rocky Mountain Fur Company, descended
the Platte from this fork, in skin canoes, thus proving, what had
always been discredited, that the river was navigable. About the
same time, he built a fort or trading post at Laramie's Fork,
which he named Fort William, after his friend and partner, Mr.
William Sublette. Since that time, the Platte has become a
highway for the fur traders.
For some days past, Captain Bonneville had been made sensible of
the great elevation of country into which he was gradually
ascending by the effect of the dryness and rarefaction of the
atmosphere upon his wagons. The wood-work shrunk; the paint boxes
of the wheels were continually working out, and it was necessary
to support the spokes by stout props to prevent their falling
asunder. The travellers were now entering one of those great
steppes of the Far West, where the prevalent aridity of the
atmosphere renders the country unfit for cultivation. In these
regions there is a fresh sweet growth of grass in the spring, but
it is scanty and short, and parches up in the course of the
summer, so that there is none for the hunters to set fire to in
the autumn. It is a common observation that "above the forks of
the Platte the grass does not burn." All attempts at agriculture
and gardening in the neighborhood of Fort William have been
attended with very little success. The grain and vegetables
raised there have been scanty in quantity and poor in quality.
The great elevation of these plains, and the dryness of the
atmosphere, will tend to retain these immense regions in a state
of pristine wildness.
In the course of a day or two more, the travellers entered that
wild and broken tract of the Crow country called the Black Hills,
and here their journey became toilsome in the extreme. Rugged
steeps and deep ravines incessantly obstructed their progress, so
that a great part of the day was spent in the painful toil of
digging through banks, filling up ravines, forcing the wagons up
the most forbidding ascents, or swinging them with ropes down the
face of dangerous precipices. The shoes of their horses were worn
out, and their feet injured by the rugged and stony roads. The
travellers were annoyed also by frequent but brief storms, which
would come hurrying over the hills, or through the mountain
defiles, rage with great fury for a short time, and then pass
off, leaving everything calm and serene again.
For several nights the camp had been infested by vagabond Indian
dogs, prowling about in quest of food. They were about the size
of a large pointer; with ears short and erect, and a long bushy
tail--altogether, they bore a striking resemblance to a wolf.
These skulking visitors would keep about the purlieus of the camp
until daylight; when, on the first stir of life among the
sleepers, they would scamper off until they reached some rising
ground, where they would take their seats, and keep a sharp and
hungry watch upon every movement. The moment the travellers were
fairly on the march, and the camp was abandoned, these starving
hangers-on would hasten to the deserted fires, to seize upon the
half-picked bones, the offal and garbage that lay about; and,
having made a hasty meal, with many a snap and snarl and growl,
would follow leisurely on the trail of the caravan. Many attempts
were made to coax or catch them, but in vain. Their quick and
suspicious eyes caught the slightest sinister movement, and they
turned and scampered off. At length one was taken. He was
terribly alarmed, and crouched and trembled as if expecting
instant death. Soothed, however, by caresses, he began after a
time to gather confidence and wag his tail, and at length was
brought to follow close at the heels of his captors, still,
however, darting around furtive and suspicious glances, and
evincing a disposition to scamper off upon the least alarm.
On the first of July the band of Crow warriors again crossed
their path. They came in vaunting and vainglorious style;
displaying five Cheyenne scalps, the trophies of their vengeance.
They were now bound homewards, to appease the manes of their
comrade by these proofs that his death had been revenged, and
intended to have scalp-dances and other triumphant rejoicings.
Captain Bonneville and his men, however, were by no means
disposed to renew their confiding intimacy with these crafty
savages, and above all, took care to avoid their pilfering
caresses. They remarked one precaution of the Crows with respect
to their horses; to protect their hoofs from the sharp and jagged
rocks among which they had to pass, they had covered them with
shoes of buffalo hide.
The route of the travellers lay generally along the course of the
Nebraska or Platte, but occasionally, where steep promontories
advanced to the margin of the stream, they were obliged to make
inland circuits. One of these took them through a bold and stern
country, bordered by a range of low mountains, running east and
west. Everything around bore traces of some fearful convulsion
of nature in times long past. Hitherto the various strata of rock
had exhibited a gentle elevation toward the southwest, but here
everything appeared to have been subverted, and thrown out of
place. In many places there were heavy beds of white sandstone
resting upon red. Immense strata of rocks jutted up into crags
and cliffs; and sometimes formed perpendicular walls and
overhanging precipices. An air of sterility prevailed over these
savage wastes. The valleys were destitute of herbage, and
scantily clothed with a stunted species of wormwood, generally
known among traders and trappers by the name of sage. From an
elevated point of their march through this region, the travellers
caught a beautiful view of the Powder River Mountains away to the
north, stretching along the very verge of the horizon, and
seeming, from the snow with which they were mantled, to be a
chain of small white clouds, connecting sky and earth.
Though the thermometer at mid-day ranged from eighty to ninety,
and even sometimes rose to ninety-three degrees, yet occasional
spots of snow were to be seen on the tops of the low mountains,
among which the travellers were journeying; proofs of the great
elevation of the whole region.
The Nebraska, in its passage through the Black Hills, is confined
to a much narrower channel than that through which it flows n the
plains below; but it is deeper and clearer, and rushes with a
stronger current. The scenery, also, is more varied and
beautiful. Sometimes it glides rapidly but smoothly through a
picturesque valley, between wooded banks; then, forcing its way
into the bosom of rugged mountains, it rushes impetuously through
narrow defiles, roaring and foaming down rocks and rapids, until
it is again soothed to rest in some peaceful valley.
On the 12th of July, Captain Bonneville abandoned the main stream
of the Nebraska, which was continually shouldered by rugged
promontories, and making a bend to the southwest, for a couple of
days, part of the time over plains of loose sand, encamped on the
14th on the banks of the Sweet Water, a stream about twenty yards
in breadth, and four or five feet deep, flowing between low banks
over a sandy soil, and forming one of the forks or upper branches
of the Nebraska. Up this stream they now shaped their course for
several successive days, tending, generally, to the west. The
soil was light and sandy; the country much diversified.
Frequently the plains were studded with isolated blocks of rock,
sometimes in the shape of a half globe, and from three to four
hundred feet high. These singular masses had occasionally a very
imposing, and even sublime appearance, rising from the midst of a
savage and lonely landscape.
As the travellers continued to advance, they became more and more
sensible of the elevation of the country. The hills around were
more generally capped with snow. The men complained of cramps and
colics, sore lips and mouths, and violent headaches. The
wood-work of the wagons also shrank so much that it was with
difficulty the wheels were kept from falling to pieces. The
country bordering upon the river was frequently gashed with deep
ravines, or traversed by high bluffs, to avoid which, the
travellers were obliged to make wide circuits through the plains.
In the course of these, they came upon immense herds of buffalo,
which kept scouring off in the van, like a retreating army.
Among the motley retainers of the camp was Tom Cain, a raw
Irishman, who officiated as cook, whose various blunders and
expedients in his novel situation, and in the wild scenes and
wild kind of life into which he had suddenly been thrown, had
made him a kind of butt or droll of the camp. Tom, however, began
to discover an ambition superior to his station; and the
conversation of the hunters, and their stories of their exploits,
inspired him with a desire to elevate himself to the dignity of
their order. The buffalo in such immense droves presented a
tempting opportunity for making his first essay. He rode, in the
line of march, all prepared for action: his powder-flask and
shot-pouch knowingly slung at the pommel of his saddle, to be at
hand; his rifle balanced on his shoulder. While in this plight, a
troop of Buffalo came trotting by in great alarm. In an instant,
Tom sprang from his horse and gave chase on foot. Finding they
were leaving him behind, he levelled his rifle and pulled [the]
trigger. His shot produced no other effect than to increase the
speed of the buffalo, and to frighten his own horse, who took to
his heels, and scampered off with all the ammunition. Tom
scampered after him, hallooing with might and main, and the wild
horse and wild Irishman soon disappeared among the ravines of the
prairie. Captain Bonneville, who was at the head of the line, and
had seen the transaction at a distance, detached a party in
pursuit of Tom. After a long interval they returned, leading the
frightened horse; but though they had scoured the country, and
looked out and shouted from every height, they had seen nothing
of his rider.
As Captain Bonneville knew Tom's utter awkwardness and
inexperience, and the dangers of a bewildered Irishman in the
midst of a prairie, he halted and encamped at an early hour, that
there might be a regular hunt for him in the morning.
At early dawn on the following day scouts were sent off in every
direction, while the main body, after breakfast, proceeded slowly
on its course. It was not until the middle of the afternoon that
the hunters returned, with honest Tom mounted behind one of them.
They had found him in a complete state of perplexity and
amazement. His appearance caused shouts of merriment in the
camp,--but Tom for once could not join in the mirth raised at his
expense: he was completely chapfallen, and apparently cured of
the hunting mania for the rest of his life.
Content of CHAPTER 4 [Washington Irving's book: The Adventures of Captain Bonneville]
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