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CHAPTER 19
Precautions in dangerous defiles Trappers' mode of defence on a
prairie A mysterious visitor Arrival in Green River Valley
Adventures of the detachments The forlorn partisan His tale
of disasters.
AS the route of Captain Bonneville lay through what was
considered the most perilous part of this region of dangers, he
took all his measures with military skill, and observed the
strictest circumspection. When on the march, a small scouting
party was thrown in the advance to reconnoitre the country
through which they were to pass. The encampments were selected
with great care, and a watch was kept up night and day. The
horses were brought in and picketed at night, and at daybreak a
party was sent out to scour the neighborhood for half a mile
round, beating up every grove and thicket that could give shelter
to a lurking foe. When all was reported safe, the horses were
cast loose and turned out to graze. Were such precautions
generally observed by traders and hunters, we should not so often
hear of parties being surprised by the Indians.
Having stated the military arrangements of the captain, we may
here mention a mode of defence on the open prairie, which we have
heard from a veteran in the Indian trade. When a party of
trappers is on a journey with a convoy of goods or peltries,
every man has three pack-horses under his care; each horse laden
with three packs. Every man is provided with a picket with an
iron head, a mallet, and hobbles, or leathern fetters for the
horses. The trappers proceed across the prairie in a long line;
or sometimes three parallel lines, sufficiently distant from each
other to prevent the packs from interfering. At an alarm, when
there is no covert at hand, the line wheels so as to bring the
front to the rear and form a circle. All then dismount, drive
their pickets into the ground in the centre, fasten the horses to
them, and hobble their forelegs, so that, in case of alarm, they
cannot break away. Then they unload them, and dispose of their
packs as breastworks on the periphery of the circle; each man
having nine packs behind which to shelter himself. In this
promptly-formed fortress, they await the assault of the enemy,
and are enabled to set large bands of Indians at defiance.
The first night of his march, Captain Bonneville encamped upon
Henry's Fork; an upper branch of Snake River, called after the
first American trader that erected a fort beyond the mountains.
About an hour after all hands had come to a halt the clatter of
hoofs was heard, and a solitary female, of the Nez Perce tribe,
came galloping up. She was mounted on a mustang or half wild
horse, which she managed by a long rope hitched round the under
jaw by way of bridle. Dismounting, she walked silently into the
midst of the camp, and there seated herself on the ground, still
holding her horse by the long halter.
The sudden and lonely apparition of this woman, and her calm yet
resolute demeanor, awakened universal curiosity. The hunters and
trappers gathered round, and gazed on her as something
mysterious. She remained silent, but maintained her air of
calmness and self-possession. Captain Bonneville approached and
interrogated her as to the object of her mysterious visit. Her
answer was brief but earnest -- "I love the whites -- I will go
with them." She was forthwith invited to a lodge, of which she
readily took possession, and from that time forward was
considered one of the camp.
In consequence, very probably, of the military precautions of
Captain Bonneville, he conducted his party in safety through this
hazardous region. No accident of a disastrous kind occurred,
excepting the loss of a horse, which, in passing along the giddy
edge of a precipice, called the Cornice, a dangerous pass between
Jackson's and Pierre's Hole, fell over the brink, and was dashed
to pieces.
On the 13th of July (1833), Captain Bonneville arrived at Green
River. As he entered the valley, he beheld it strewed in every
direction with the carcasses of buffaloes. It was evident that
Indians had recently been there, and in great numbers. Alarmed at
this sight, he came to a halt, and as soon as it was dark, sent
out spies to his place of rendezvous on Horse Creek, where he had
expected to meet with his detached parties of trappers on the
following day. Early in the morning the spies made their
appearance in the camp, and with them came three trappers of one
of his bands, from the rendezvous, who told him his people were
all there expecting him. As to the slaughter among the buffaloes,
it had been made by a friendly band of Shoshonies, who had fallen
in with one of his trapping parties, and accompanied them to the
rendezvous. Having imparted this intelligence, the three worthies
from the rendezvous broached a small keg of "alcohol," which they
had brought with them. to enliven this merry meeting. The liquor
went briskly round; all absent friends were toasted, and the
party moved forward to the rendezvous in high spirits.
The meeting of associated bands, who have been separated from
each other on these hazardous enterprises, is always interesting;
each having its tales of perils and adventures to relate. Such
was the case with the various detachments of Captain Bonneville's
company, thus brought together on Horse Creek. Here was the
detachment of fifty men which he had sent from Salmon River, in
the preceding month of November, to winter on Snake River. They
had met with many crosses and losses in the course of their
spring hunt, not so much from Indians as from white men. They
had come in competition with rival trapping parties, particularly
one belonging to the Rocky Mountain Fur Company; and they had
long stories to relate of their manoeuvres to forestall or
distress each other. In fact, in these virulent and sordid
competitions, the trappers of each party were more intent upon
injuring their rivals, than benefitting themselves; breaking each
other's traps, trampling and tearing to pieces the beaver lodges,
and doing every thing in their power to mar the success of the
hunt. We forbear to detail these pitiful contentions.
The most lamentable tale of disasters, however, that Captain
Bonneville had to hear, was from a partisan, whom he had detached
in the preceding year, with twenty men, to hunt through the
outskirts of the Crow country, and on the tributary streams of
the Yellowstone; whence he was to proceed and join him in his
winter quarters on Salmon River. This partisan appeared at the
rendezvous without his party, and a sorrowful tale of disasters
had he to relate. In hunting the Crow country, he fell in with a
village of that tribe; notorious rogues, jockeys, and horse
stealers, and errant scamperers of the mountains. These decoyed
most of his men to desert, and carry off horses, traps, and
accoutrements. When he attempted to retake the deserters, the
Crow warriors ruffled up to him and declared the deserters were
their good friends, had determined to remain among them, and
should not be molested. The poor partisan, therefore, was fain to
leave his vagabonds among these birds of their own feather, and
being too weak in numbers to attempt the dangerous pass across
the mountains to meet Captain Bonneville on Salmon River, he
made, with the few that remained faithful to him, for the
neighborhood of Tullock's Fort, on the Yellowstone, under the
protection of which he went into winter quarters.
He soon found out that the neighborhood of the fort was nearly as
bad as the neighborhood of the Crows. His men were continually
stealing away thither, with whatever beaver skins they could
secrete or lay their hands on. These they would exchange with the
hangers-on of the fort for whiskey, and then revel in drunkeness
and debauchery.
The unlucky partisan made another move. Associating with his
party a few free trappers, whom he met with in this neighborhood,
he started off early in the spring to trap on the head waters of
Powder River. In the course of the journey, his horses were so
much jaded in traversing a steep mountain, that he was induced to
turn them loose to graze during the night. The place was lonely;
the path was rugged; there was not the sign of an Indian in the
neighborhood; not a blade of grass that had been turned by a
footstep. But who can calculate on security in the midst of the
Indian country, where the foe lurks in silence and secrecy, and
seems to come and go on the wings of the wind? The horses had
scarce been turned loose, when a couple of Arickara (or Rickaree)
warriors entered the camp. They affected a frank and friendly
demeanor; but their appearance and movements awakened the
suspicions of some of the veteran trappers, well versed in Indian
wiles. Convinced that they were spies sent on some sinister
errand, they took them in custody, and set to work to drive in
the horses. It was too late -- the horses were already gone. In
fact, a war party of Arickaras had been hovering on their trail
for several days, watching with the patience and perseverance of
Indians, for some moment of negligence and fancied security, to
make a successful swoop. The two spies had evidently been sent
into the camp to create a diversion, while their confederates
carried off the spoil.
The unlucky partisan, thus robbed of his horses, turned furiously
on his prisoners, ordered them to be bound hand and foot, and
swore to put them to death unless his property were restored. The
robbers, who soon found that their spies were in captivity, now
made their appearance on horseback, and held a parley. The sight
of them, mounted on the very horses they had stolen, set the
blood of the mountaineers in a ferment; but it was useless to
attack them, as they would have but to turn their steeds and
scamper out of the reach of pedestrians. A negotiation was now
attempted. The Arickaras offered what they considered fair terms;
to barter one horse, or even two horses, for a prisoner. The
mountaineers spurned at their offer, and declared that, unless
all the horses were relinquished, the prisoners should be burnt
to death. To give force to their threat, a pyre of logs and
fagots was heaped up and kindled into a blaze.
The parley continued; the Arickaras released one horse and then
another, in earnest of their proposition; finding, however, that
nothing short of the relinquishment of all their spoils would
purchase the lives of the captives, they abandoned them to their
fate, moving off with many parting words and lamentable howlings.
The prisoners seeing them depart, and knowing the horrible fate
that awaited them, made a desperate effort to escape. They
partially succeeded, but were severely wounded and retaken; then
dragged to the blazing pyre, and burnt to death in the sight of
their retreating comrades.
Such are the savage cruelties that white men learn to practise,
who mingle in savage life; and such are the acts that lead to
terrible recrimination on the part of the Indians. Should we hear
of any atrocities committed by the Arickaras upon captive white
men, let this signal and recent provocation be borne in mind.
Individual cases of the kind dwell in the recollections of whole
tribes; and it is a point of honor and conscience to revenge
them.
The loss of his horses completed the ruin of the unlucky
partisan. It was out of his power to prosecute his hunting, or to
maintain his party; the only thought now was how to get back to
civilized life. At the first water-course, his men built canoes,
and committed themselves to the stream. Some engaged themselves
at various trading establishments at which they touched, others
got back to the settlements. As to the partisan, he found an
opportunity to make his way to the rendezvous at Green River
Valley; which he reached in time to render to Captain Bonneville
this forlorn account of his misadventures.
Content of CHAPTER 19 [Washington Irving's book: The Adventures of Captain Bonneville]
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