The Adventures of Captain Bonneville

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Here they were visited by a party of Root Diggers, who were apparently
rising in the world, for they had "horse to ride and weapon to wear,"
and were altogether better clad and equipped than any of the tribe that
Captain Bonneville had met with. They were just from the plain of Boisee
River, where they had left a number of their tribe, all as well provided
as themselves; having guns, horses, and comfortable clothing. All these
they obtained from the Lower Nez Perces, with whom they were in habits
[sic] of frequent traffic. They appeared to have imbibed from that
tribe their non-combative principles, being mild and inoffensive in their
manners. Like them, also, they had something of religious feelings;
for Captain Bonneville observed that, before eating, they washed their
hands, and made a short prayer; which he understood was their invariable
custom. From these Indians, he obtained a considerable supply of fish,
and an excellent and well-conditioned horse, to replace one which had
become too weak for the journey.

The travellers now moved forward with renovated spirits; the snow, it
is true, lay deeper and deeper as they advanced, but they trudged on
merrily, considering themselves well provided for the journey, which
could not be of much longer duration.

They had intended to proceed up the banks of Gun Creek, a stream which
flows into Snake River from the west; but were assured by the natives
that the route in that direction was impracticable. The latter advised
them to keep along Snake River, where they would not be impeded by the
snow. Taking one of the Diggers for a guide, they set off along the
river, and to their joy soon found the country free from snow, as
had been predicted, so that their horses once more had the benefit of
tolerable pasturage. Their Digger proved an excellent guide, trudging
cheerily in the advance. He made an unsuccessful shot or two at a deer
and a beaver; but at night found a rabbit hole, whence he extracted
the occupant, upon which, with the addition of a fish given him by the
travellers, he made a hearty supper, and retired to rest, filled with
good cheer and good humor.

The next day the travellers came to where the hills closed upon the
river, leaving here and there intervals of undulating meadow land. The
river was sheeted with ice, broken into hills at long intervals. The
Digger kept on ahead of the party, crossing and recrossing the river
in pursuit of game, until, unluckily, encountering a brother Digger, he
stole off with him, without the ceremony of leave-taking.

Being now left to themselves, they proceeded until they came to some
Indian huts, the inhabitants of which spoke a language totally different
from any they had yet heard. One, however, understood the Nez Perce
language, and through him they made inquiries as to their route. These
Indians were extremely kind and honest, and furnished them with a small
quantity of meat; but none of them could be induced to act as guides.

Immediately in the route of the travellers lay a high mountain, which
they ascended with some difficulty. The prospect from the summit was
grand but disheartening. Directly before them towered the loftiest peaks
of Immahah, rising far higher than the elevated ground on which they
stood: on the other hand, they were enabled to scan the course of the
river, dashing along through deep chasms, between rocks and precipices,
until lost in a distant wilderness of mountains, which closed the savage
landscape.

They remained for a long time contemplating, with perplexed and anxious
eye, this wild congregation of mountain barriers, and seeking to
discover some practicable passage. The approach of evening obliged them
to give up the task, and to seek some camping ground for the night.
Moving briskly forward, and plunging and tossing through a succession of
deep snow-drifts, they at length reached a valley known among trappers
as the "Grand Rond," which they found entirely free from snow.

This is a beautiful and very fertile valley, about twenty miles long and
five or six broad; a bright cold stream called the Fourche de Glace,
or Ice River, runs through it. Its sheltered situation, embosomed in
mountains, renders it good pasturaging ground in the winter time; when
the elk come down to it in great numbers, driven out of the mountains by
the snow. The Indians then resort to it to hunt. They likewise come
to it in the summer time to dig the camash root, of which it produces
immense quantities. When this plant is in blossom, the whole valley is
tinted by its blue flowers, and looks like the ocean when overcast by a
cloud.

After passing a night in this valley, the travellers in the morning
scaled the neighboring hills, to look out for a more eligible route
than that upon which they had unluckily fallen; and, after much
reconnoitring, determined to make their way once more to the river, and
to travel upon the ice when the banks should prove impassable.

On the second day after this determination, they were again upon Snake
River, but, contrary to their expectations, it was nearly free from ice.
A narrow riband ran along the shore, and sometimes there was a kind of
bridge across the stream, formed of old ice and snow. For a short time,
they jogged along the bank, with tolerable facility, but at length
came to where the river forced its way into the heart of the
mountains, winding between tremendous walls of basaltic rock, that rose
perpendicularly from the water's edge, frowning in bleak and gloomy
grandeur. Here difficulties of all kinds beset their path. The snow was
from two to three feet deep, but soft and yielding, so that the horses
had no foothold, but kept plunging forward, straining themselves by
perpetual efforts. Sometimes the crags and promontories forced them upon
the narrow riband of ice that bordered the shore; sometimes they had to
scramble over vast masses of rock which had tumbled from the impending
precipices; sometimes they had to cross the stream upon the hazardous
bridges of ice and snow, sinking to the knee at every step; sometimes
they had to scale slippery acclivities, and to pass along narrow
cornices, glazed with ice and sleet, a shouldering wall of rock on one
side, a yawning precipice on the other, where a single false step would
have been fatal. In a lower and less dangerous pass, two of their horses
actually fell into the river; one was saved with much difficulty, but
the boldness of the shore prevented their rescuing the other, and he was
swept away by the rapid current.

In this way they struggled forward, manfully braving difficulties and
dangers, until they came to where the bed of the river was narrowed to
a mere chasm, with perpendicular walls of rock that defied all further
progress. Turning their faces now to the mountain, they endeavored to
cross directly over it; but, after clambering nearly to the summit,
found their path closed by insurmountable barriers.

Nothing now remained but to retrace their steps. To descend a cragged
mountain, however, was more difficult and dangerous than to ascend it.
They had to lower themselves cautiously and slowly, from steep to steep;
and, while they managed with difficulty to maintain their own footing,
to aid their horses by holding on firmly to the rope halters, as
the poor animals stumbled among slippery rocks, or slid down icy
declivities. Thus, after a day of intense cold, and severe and incessant
toil, amidst the wildest of scenery, they managed, about nightfall, to
reach the camping ground, from which they had started in the morning,
and for the first time in the course of their rugged and perilous
expedition, felt their hearts quailing under their multiplied hardships.

A hearty supper, a tranquillizing pipe, and a sound night's sleep, put
them all in better mood, and in the morning they held a consultation as
to their future movements. About four miles behind, they had remarked
a small ridge of mountains approaching closely to the river. It was
determined to scale this ridge, and seek a passage into the valley which
must lie beyond. Should they fail in this, but one alternative remained.
To kill their horses, dry the flesh for provisions, make boats of
the hides, and, in these, commit themselves to the stream--a measure
hazardous in the extreme.

A short march brought them to the foot of the mountain, but its steep
and cragged sides almost discouraged hope. The only chance of scaling
it was by broken masses of rock, piled one upon another, which formed
a succession of crags, reaching nearly to the summit. Up these they
wrought their way with indescribable difficulty and peril, in a zigzag
course, climbing from rock to rock, and helping their horses up after
them; which scrambled among the crags like mountain goats; now and then
dislodging some huge stone, which, the moment they had left it, would
roll down the mountain, crashing and rebounding with terrific din. It
was some time after dark before they reached a kind of platform on the
summit of the mountain, where they could venture to encamp. The winds,
which swept this naked height, had whirled all the snow into the valley
beneath, so that the horses found tolerable winter pasturage on the
dry grass which remained exposed. The travellers, though hungry in the
extreme, were fain to make a very frugal supper; for they saw their
journey was likely to be prolonged much beyond the anticipated term.

In fact, on the following day they discerned that, although already at
a great elevation, they were only as yet upon the shoulder of the
mountain. It proved to be a great sierra, or ridge, of immense height,
running parallel to the course of the river, swelling by degrees to
lofty peaks, but the outline gashed by deep and precipitous ravines.
This, in fact, was a part of the chain of Blue Mountains, in which the
first adventurers to Astoria experienced such hardships.

We will not pretend to accompany the travellers step by step in this
tremendous mountain scramble, into which they had unconsciously betrayed
themselves. Day after day did their toil continue; peak after peak had
they to traverse, struggling with difficulties and hardships known only
to the mountain trapper. As their course lay north, they had to ascend
the southern faces of the heights, where the sun had melted the snow,
so as to render the ascent wet and slippery, and to keep both men and
horses continually on the strain; while on the northern sides, the snow
lay in such heavy masses, that it was necessary to beat a track down
which the horses might be led. Every now and then, also, their way was
impeded by tall and numerous pines, some of which had fallen, and lay in
every direction.

In the midst of these toils and hardships, their provisions gave out.
For three days they were without food, and so reduced that they could
scarcely drag themselves along. At length one of the mules, being about
to give out from fatigue and famine, they hastened to dispatch him.
Husbanding this miserable supply, they dried the flesh, and for three
days subsisted upon the nutriment extracted from the bones. As to the
meat, it was packed and preserved as long as they could do without it,
not knowing how long they might remain bewildered in these desolate
regions.

One of the men was now dispatched ahead, to reconnoitre the country, and
to discover, if possible, some more practicable route. In the meantime,
the rest of the party moved on slowly. After a lapse of three days, the
scout rejoined them. He informed them that Snake River ran immediately
below the sierra or mountainous ridge, upon which they were travelling;
that it was free from precipices, and was at no great distance from them
in a direct line; but that it would be impossible for them to reach it
without making a weary circuit. Their only course would be to cross the
mountain ridge to the left.

Up this mountain, therefore, the weary travellers directed their steps;
and the ascent, in their present weak and exhausted state, was one of
the severest parts of this most painful journey. For two days were they
toiling slowly from cliff to cliff, beating at every step a path through
the snow for their faltering horses. At length they reached the summit,
where the snow was blown off; but in descending on the opposite side,
they were often plunging through deep drifts, piled in the hollows and
ravines.

Their provisions were now exhausted, and they and their horses almost
ready to give out with fatigue and hunger; when one afternoon, just as
the sun was sinking behind a blue line of distant mountain, they came
to the brow of a height from which they beheld the smooth valley of the
Immahah stretched out in smiling verdure below them.

The sight inspired almost a frenzy of delight. Roused to new ardor,
they forgot, for a time, their fatigues, and hurried down the mountain,
dragging their jaded horses after them, and sometimes compelling them
to slide a distance of thirty or forty feet at a time. At length they
reached the banks of the Immahah. The young grass was just beginning to
sprout, and the whole valley wore an aspect of softness, verdure, and
repose, heightened by the contrast of the frightful region from which
they had just descended. To add to their joy, they observed Indian
trails along the margin of the stream, and other signs, which gave them
reason to believe that there was an encampment of the Lower Nez Perces
in the neighborhood, as it was within the accustomed range of that
pacific and hospitable tribe.

The prospect of a supply of food stimulated them to new exertion, and
they continued on as fast as the enfeebled state of themselves and their
steeds would permit. At length, one of the men, more exhausted than the
rest, threw himself upon the grass, and declared he could go no further.
It was in vain to attempt to rouse him; his spirit had given out, and
his replies only showed the dogged apathy of despair. His companions,
therefore, encamped on the spot, kindled a blazing fire, and searched
about for roots with which to strengthen and revive him. They all then
made a starveling repast; but gathering round the fire, talked over past
dangers and troubles, soothed themselves with the persuasion that all
were now at an end, and went to sleep with the comforting hope that the
morrow would bring them into plentiful quarters.




31.

Progress in the valley--An Indian cavalier--The captain
falls into a lethargy--A Nez-Perce patriarch--Hospitable
treatment--The bald head--Bargaining--Value of an old plaid
cloak--The family horse--The cost of an Indian present

A TRANQUIL NIGHT'S REST had sufficiently restored the broken down
traveller to enable him to resume his wayfaring, and all hands set
forward on the Indian trail. With all their eagerness to arrive within
reach of succor, such was their feeble and emaciated condition, that
they advanced but slowly. Nor is it a matter of surprise that they
should almost have lost heart, as well as strength. It was now (the 16th
of February) fifty-three days that they had been travelling in the midst
of winter, exposed to all kinds of privations and hardships: and for
the last twenty days, they had been entangled in the wild and desolate
labyrinths of the snowy mountains; climbing and descending icy
precipices, and nearly starved with cold and hunger.

All the morning they continued following the Indian trail, without
seeing a human being, and were beginning to be discouraged, when, about
noon, they discovered a horseman at a distance. He was coming directly
toward them; but on discovering them, suddenly reined up his steed,
came to a halt, and, after reconnoitring them for a time with great
earnestness, seemed about to make a cautious retreat. They eagerly made
signs of peace, and endeavored, with the utmost anxiety, to induce him
to approach. He remained for some time in doubt; but at length, having
satisfied himself that they were not enemies, came galloping up to them.
He was a fine, haughty-looking savage, fancifully decorated, and mounted
on a high-mettled steed, with gaudy trappings and equipments. It was
evident that he was a warrior of some consequence among his tribe.
His whole deportment had something in it of barbaric dignity; he felt,
perhaps, his temporary superiority in personal array, and in the spirit
of his steed, to the poor, ragged, travel-worn trappers and their
half-starved horses. Approaching them with an air of protection, he gave
them his hand, and, in the Nez Perce language, invited them to his camp,
which was only a few miles distant; where he had plenty to eat, and
plenty of horses, and would cheerfully share his good things with them.

His hospitable invitation was joyfully accepted: he lingered but a
moment, to give directions by which they might find his camp, and then,
wheeling round, and giving the reins to his mettlesome steed, was soon
out of sight. The travellers followed, with gladdened hearts, but at a
snail's pace; for their poor horses could scarcely drag one leg after
the other. Captain Bonneville, however, experienced a sudden and
singular change of feeling. Hitherto, the necessity of conducting his
party, and of providing against every emergency, had kept his mind upon
the stretch, and his whole system braced and excited. In no one instance
had he flagged in spirit, or felt disposed to succumb. Now, however,
that all danger was over, and the march of a few miles would bring them
to repose and abundance, his energies suddenly deserted him; and every
faculty, mental and physical, was totally relaxed. He had not proceeded
two miles from the point where he had had the interview with the Nez
Perce chief, when he threw himself upon the earth, without the power
or will to move a muscle, or exert a thought, and sank almost instantly
into a profound and dreamless sleep. His companions again came to a
halt, and encamped beside him, and there they passed the night.

The next morning, Captain Bonneville awakened from his long and heavy
sleep, much refreshed; and they all resumed their creeping progress.
They had not long been on the march, when eight or ten of the Nez Perce
tribe came galloping to meet them, leading fresh horses to bear them
to their camp. Thus gallantly mounted, they felt new life infused into
their languid frames, and dashing forward, were soon at the lodges of
the Nez Perces. Here they found about twelve families living together,
under the patriarchal sway of an ancient and venerable chief. He
received them with the hospitality of the golden age, and with something
of the same kind of fare; for, while he opened his arms to make them
welcome, the only repast he set before them consisted of roots. They
could have wished for something more hearty and substantial; but, for
want of better, made a voracious meal on these humble viands. The repast
being over, the best pipe was lighted and sent round: and this was a
most welcome luxury, having lost their smoking apparatus twelve days
before, among the mountains.

While they were thus enjoying themselves, their poor horses were led to
the best pastures in the neighborhood, where they were turned loose to
revel on the fresh sprouting grass; so that they had better fare than
their masters.

Captain Bonneville soon felt himself quite at home among these quiet,
inoffensive people. His long residence among their cousins, the Upper
Nez Perces, had made him conversant with their language, modes of
expression, and all their habitudes. He soon found, too, that he
was well known among them, by report, at least, from the constant
interchange of visits and messages between the two branches of the
tribe. They at first addressed him by his name; giving him his title of
captain, with a French accent: but they soon gave him a title of their
own; which, as usual with Indian titles, had a peculiar signification.
In the case of the captain, it had somewhat of a whimsical origin.

As he sat chatting and smoking in the midst of them, he would
occasionally take off his cap. Whenever he did so, there was a sensation
in the surrounding circle. The Indians would half rise from their
recumbent posture, and gaze upon his uncovered head, with their usual
exclamation of astonishment. The worthy captain was completely bald; a
phenomenon very surprising in their eyes. They were at a loss to know
whether he had been scalped in battle, or enjoyed a natural immunity
from that belligerent infliction. In a little while, he became
known among them by an Indian name, signifying "the bald chief." "A
sobriquet," observes the captain, "for which I can find no parallel in
history since the days of 'Charles the Bald.'"

Although the travellers had banqueted on roots, and been regaled
with tobacco smoke, yet their stomachs craved more generous fare. In
approaching the lodges of the Nez Perces, they had indulged in fond
anticipations of venison and dried salmon; and dreams of the kind still
haunted their imaginations, and could not be conjured down. The keen
appetites of mountain trappers, quickened by a fortnight's fasting, at
length got the better of all scruples of pride, and they fairly begged
some fish or flesh from the hospitable savages. The latter, however,
were slow to break in upon their winter store, which was very limited;
but were ready to furnish roots in abundance, which they pronounced
excellent food. At length, Captain Bonneville thought of a means of
attaining the much-coveted gratification.

He had about him, he says, a trusty plaid; an old and valued travelling
companion and comforter; upon which the rains had descended, and the
snows and winds beaten, without further effect than somewhat to
tarnish its primitive lustre. This coat of many colors had excited the
admiration, and inflamed the covetousness of both warriors and squaws,
to an extravagant degree. An idea now occurred to Captain Bonneville,
to convert this rainbow garment into the savory viands so much desired.
There was a momentary struggle in his mind, between old associations and
projected indulgence; and his decision in favor of the latter was
made, he says, with a greater promptness, perhaps, than true taste and
sentiment might have required. In a few moments, his plaid cloak was
cut into numerous strips. "Of these," continues he, "with the newly
developed talent of a man-milliner, I speedily constructed turbans a
la Turque, and fanciful head-gears of divers conformations. These,
judiciously distributed among such of the womenkind as seemed of most
consequence and interest in the eyes of the patres conscripti, brought
us, in a little while, abundance of dried salmon and deers' hearts; on
which we made a sumptuous supper. Another, and a more satisfactory
smoke, succeeded this repast, and sweet slumbers answering the peaceful
invocation of our pipes, wrapped us in that delicious rest, which is
only won by toil and travail." As to Captain Bonneville, he slept in
the lodge of the venerable patriarch, who had evidently conceived a most
disinterested affection for him; as was shown on the following morning.
The travellers, invigorated by a good supper, and "fresh from the bath
of repose," were about to resume their journey, when this affectionate
old chief took the captain aside, to let him know how much he loved him.
As a proof of his regard, he had determined to give him a fine horse,
which would go further than words, and put his good will beyond all
question. So saying, he made a signal, and forthwith a beautiful young
horse, of a brown color, was led, prancing and snorting, to the place.
Captain Bonneville was suitably affected by this mark of friendship; but
his experience in what is proverbially called "Indian giving," made him
aware that a parting pledge was necessary on his own part, to prove that
his friendship was reciprocated. He accordingly placed a handsome
rifle in the hands of the venerable chief, whose benevolent heart was
evidently touched and gratified by this outward and visible sign of
amity.

Having now, as he thought, balanced this little account of friendship,
the captain was about to shift his saddle to this noble gift-horse when
the affectionate patriarch plucked him by the sleeve, and introduced to
him a whimpering, whining, leathern-skinned old squaw, that might have
passed for an Egyptian mummy, without drying. "This," said he, "is
my wife; she is a good wife--I love her very much.--She loves the
horse--she loves him a great deal--she will cry very much at losing
him.--I do not know how I shall comfort her--and that makes my heart
very sore."

What could the worthy captain do, to console the tender-hearted old
squaw, and, peradventure, to save the venerable patriarch from a curtain
lecture? He bethought himself of a pair of ear-bobs: it was true, the
patriarch's better-half was of an age and appearance that seemed to
put personal vanity out of the question, but when is personal vanity
extinct? The moment he produced the glittering earbobs, the whimpering
and whining of the sempiternal beldame was at an end. She eagerly placed
the precious baubles in her ears, and, though as ugly as the Witch of
Endor, went off with a sideling gait and coquettish air, as though she
had been a perfect Semiramis.