The Oregon Trail

F >> Francis Parkman, Jr. >> The Oregon Trail


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 yells 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 proclaimed in a loud voice something which
my two companions 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 luster, 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 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
leaping 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 were again seated in the center 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 Dakota there are many associations, or
fraternities, connected with the purposes of their superstitions,
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 village; and though he often invited me to feasts,
I never 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 Dakota, 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 word of thanks, and having
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 went to the lodge of the Tall Bear, seized
upon the horse that he had given him, and led 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 mortals
stabs with his knife. Quick as lightning the Mad Wolf drew his bow to
its utmost tension, and held the arrow quivering close to the breast
of his adversary. The Tall Bear, as the Indians who were near him said,
stood with his bloody knife in his hand, facing the assailant with the
utmost calmness. Some of his friends and relatives, seeing his danger,
ran hastily to his assistance. The remaining three Arrow-Breakers,
on the other hand, came to the aid of their associate. Many of their
friends joined them, the war-cry was raised on a sudden, and the tumult
became general.

The "soldiers," who lent their timely aid in putting it down, are by
far the most important executive functionaries in an Indian village.
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 warriors of the village, who elect them in councils occasionally
convened for the purpose, and thus can exercise a degree of authority
which no one else in the village would dare to assume. While very few
Ogallalla chiefs could venture without instant jeopardy of their lives
to strike or lay hands upon the meanest of their people, the "soldiers"
in the discharge of their appropriate functions, have full license to
make use of these and similar acts of coercion.



CHAPTER XVII

THE BLACK HILLS


We traveled 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 declivities, trailing out to a great length over the arid
prairie, or winding at times among small detached hills or distorted
shapes. Turning sharply to the left, we entered a wide defile of the
mountains, down the bottom of which a brook came winding, lined with
tall grass and dense copses, amid which were hidden many beaver dams and
lodges. We passed along between two lines of high precipices and rocks,
piled in utter disorder one upon another, 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 advanced, the passage grew more narrow; then it suddenly expanded
into a round grassy meadow, completely encompassed by mountains; and
here the families stopped as they came up in turn, and the camp rose
like magic.

The lodges were hardly erected when, with their usual precipitation, the
Indians set about accomplishing the object that had brought them there;
that is, the obtaining poles for supporting their new lodges. Half the
population, 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 passed 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, bristling with black fir trees. On our
left they rose close to us like a wall, but on the right a winding brook
with a narrow strip of marshy soil intervened. The stream was clogged
with old beaver dams, and spread frequently into wide pools. There were
thick bushes and many dead and blasted trees 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 driving 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 whooping, and laughing, and lashing forward their
horses. Two black-tailed deer bounded away among the rocks; Raymond 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 eight miles, the
appearance of the scene began to change, and all the declivities 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 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 complete it. He asked me to let Raymond go with him and
assist in the work. I assented, and the two men immediately 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 wood 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 acquaintances; for among those lonely and
perilous mountains 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 paths made by the elk, as
they filed across the mountainside. 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 was
a perfect stillness. No wind was stirring, and not even an insect could
be heard. I recollected the danger of becoming lost in such a place,
and therefore I fixed my eye upon one of the tallest pinnacles of the
opposite mountain. 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
moment, 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 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 build their rude cabins in the
midst of these solitudes, and live in abundance 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 pitfalls, 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 before the blazing fire, and in the
morning shoot the elk and the deer from their very door.



CHAPTER XVIII

A MOUNTAIN HUNT


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 sinews upon her lodge, while her
proprietor, having just finished an enormous breakfast of meat, was
smoking a social pipe along with Raymond and myself. He proposed at
length 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 Wyandotte pony against
your mare that we start an elk or a black-tailed deer, or likely as not,
a bighorn, 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 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 brightened 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 vegetation. At length, however, we came upon
a forest tract, and had no sooner done so than we heartily wished
ourselves 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 45 degrees. Let him have on 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. His mule, if she
be a true one, will alternately stop short and dive violently forward,
and his position 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
during 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 rippling water, shaded from the glaring sun by an overarching
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 standing 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 civilized 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 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 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 hollow; 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
valley, the bottom of which was covered with the stiff wild-sage
bushes and marked with deep paths, made by the buffalo, who, for some
inexplicable 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 discovering the mountain sheep
peering down upon us in fancied security from that giddy elevation.
Nothing was visible 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 weak to follow, sat holding his horse and
waiting 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 through the thin
crust, and spattering round the hole a yellowish creamy fluid, into
which it sank and disappeared. 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. Down he sinks; one snort of terror,
one convulsive struggle, and the slime calmly 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, and I want some glue myself."

He immediately put the yellow horse at such a gallop as he was capable
of executing, while I set spurs to the mule, who soon far outran 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 a
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 rose, 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, who meanwhile had caught the mule and led her up
to me, I mounted again. No sooner had I done so, than the brute began to
rear and plunge with extreme violence; but being now well prepared for
her, and free from incumbrance, I soon reduced her to submission. Then
taking the rifle again from Reynal, we galloped forward as before.

We were now free of the mountain 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
plain, but not one of them would stand and be shot at. When we 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
hillsides. 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 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 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 unconscious 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 character 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 aspirations
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 produced 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 hung 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 accomplish 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 keen desire to flash his maiden scalping-knife, and I would
not have encamped alone with him without watching his movements with a
distrustful eye.