The Adventures of Captain Bonneville

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The laso is also of great use in furnishing the public with a favorite,
though barbarous sport; the combat between a bear and a wild bull.
For this purpose, three or four horsemen sally forth to some wood,
frequented by bears, and, depositing the carcass of a bullock, hide
themselves in the vicinity. The bears are soon attracted by the bait. As
soon as one, fit for their purpose, makes his appearance, they run out,
and with the laso, dexterously noose him by either leg. After
dragging him at full speed until he is fatigued, they secure him more
effectually; and tying him on the carcass of the bullock, draw him in
triumph to the scene of action. By this time, he is exasperated to such
frenzy, that they are sometimes obliged to throw cold water on him, to
moderate his fury; and dangerous would it be, for horse and rider, were
he, while in this paroxysm, to break his bonds.

A wild bull, of the fiercest kind, which has been caught and exasperated
in the same manner, is now produced; and both animals are turned loose
in the arena of a small amphitheatre. The mortal fight begins instantly;
and always, at first, to the disadvantage of Bruin; fatigued, as he is,
by his previous rough riding. Roused, at length, by the repeated goring
of the bull, he seizes his muzzle with his sharp claws, and clinging to
this most sensitive part, causes him to bellow with rage and agony.
In his heat and fury, the bull lolls out his tongue; this is instantly
clutched by the bear; with a desperate effort he overturns his huge
antagonist; and then dispatches him without difficulty.

Beside this diversion, the travellers were likewise regaled with
bull-fights, in the genuine style of Old Spain; the Californians being
considered the best bull-fighters in the Mexican dominions.

After a considerable sojourn at Monterey, spent in these very edifying,
but not very profitable amusements, the leader of this vagabond party
set out with his comrades, on his return journey. Instead of retracing
their steps through the mountains, they passed round their southern
extremity, and, crossing a range of low hills, found themselves in the
sandy plains south of Ogden's River; in traversing which, they again
suffered, grievously, for want of water.

In the course of their journey, they encountered a party of Mexicans in
pursuit of a gang of natives, who had been stealing horses. The savages
of this part of California are represented as extremely poor, and
armed only with stone-pointed arrows; it being the wise policy of the
Spaniards not to furnish them with firearms. As they find it difficult,
with their blunt shafts, to kill the wild game of the mountains, they
occasionally supply themselves with food, by entrapping the Spanish
horses. Driving them stealthily into fastnesses and ravines, they
slaughter them without difficulty, and dry their flesh for provisions.
Some they carry off to trade with distant tribes; and in this way, the
Spanish horses pass from hand to hand among the Indians, until they even
find their way across the Rocky Mountains.

The Mexicans are continually on the alert, to intercept these marauders;
but the Indians are apt to outwit them, and force them to make long and
wild expeditions in pursuit of their stolen horses.

Two of the Mexican party just mentioned joined the band of trappers,
and proved themselves worthy companions. In the course of their journey
through the country frequented by the poor Root Diggers, there seems to
have been an emulation between them, which could inflict the greatest
outrages upon the natives. The trappers still considered them in the
light of dangerous foes; and the Mexicans, very probably, charged them
with the sin of horse-stealing; we have no other mode of accounting for
the infamous barbarities of which, according to their own story, they
were guilty; hunting the poor Indians like wild beasts, and killing them
without mercy. The Mexicans excelled at this savage sport; chasing their
unfortunate victims at full speed; noosing them round the neck with
their lasos, and then dragging them to death!

Such are the scanty details of this most disgraceful expedition; at
least, such are all that Captain Bonneville had the patience to collect;
for he was so deeply grieved by the failure of his plans, and so
indignant at the atrocities related to him, that he turned, with disgust
and horror, from the narrators. Had he exerted a little of the Lynch
law of the wilderness, and hanged those dexterous horsemen in their
own lasos, it would but have been a well-merited and salutary act of
retributive justice. The failure of this expedition was a blow to his
pride, and a still greater blow to his purse. The Great Salt Lake
still remained unexplored; at the same time, the means which had been
furnished so liberally to fit out this favorite expedition, had all been
squandered at Monterey; and the peltries, also, which had been collected
on the way. He would have but scanty returns, therefore, to make this
year, to his associates in the United States; and there was great danger
of their becoming disheartened, and abandoning the enterprise.




40.

Traveller's tales--Indian lurkers--Prognostics of Buckeye
Signs and portents--The medicine wolf--An alarm--An ambush
The captured provant--Triumph of Buckeye--Arrival of
supplies Grand carouse--Arrangements for the year--Mr. Wyeth
and his new-levied band.

THE horror and indignation felt by Captain Bonneville at the excesses
of the Californian adventurers were not participated by his men; on
the contrary, the events of that expedition were favorite themes in the
camp. The heroes of Monterey bore the palm in all the gossipings among
the hunters. Their glowing descriptions of Spanish bear-baits and
bull-fights especially, were listened to with intense delight; and had
another expedition to California been proposed, the difficulty would
have been to restrain a general eagerness to volunteer.

The captain had not long been at the rendezvous when he perceived, by
various signs, that Indians were lurking in the neighborhood. It was
evident that the Blackfoot band, which he had seen when on his march,
had dogged his party, and were intent on mischief. He endeavored to keep
his camp on the alert; but it is as difficult to maintain discipline
among trappers at a rendezvous as among sailors when in port.

Buckeye, the Delaware Indian, was scandalized at this heedlessness of
the hunters when an enemy was at hand, and was continually preaching up
caution. He was a little prone to play the prophet, and to deal in signs
and portents, which occasionally excited the merriment of his white
comrades. He was a great dreamer, and believed in charms and talismans,
or medicines, and could foretell the approach of strangers by the
howling or barking of the small prairie wolf. This animal, being driven
by the larger wolves from the carcasses left on the hunting grounds by
the hunters, follows the trail of the fresh meat carried to the camp.
Here the smell of the roast and broiled, mingling with every breeze,
keeps them hovering about the neighborhood; scenting every blast,
turning up their noses like hungry hounds, and testifying their
pinching hunger by long whining howls and impatient barkings. These are
interpreted by the superstitious Indians into warnings that strangers
are at hand; and one accidental coincidence, like the chance fulfillment
of an almanac prediction, is sufficient to cover a thousand failures.
This little, whining, feast-smelling animal is, therefore, called among
Indians the "medicine wolf;" and such was one of Buckeye's infallible
oracles.

One morning early, the soothsaying Delaware appeared with a gloomy
countenance. His mind was full of dismal presentiments, whether from
mysterious dreams, or the intimations of the medicine wolf, does not
appear. "Danger," he said, "was lurking in their path, and there would
be some fighting before sunset." He was bantered for his prophecy, which
was attributed to his having supped too heartily, and been visited by
bad dreams. In the course of the morning a party of hunters set out in
pursuit of buffaloes, taking with them a mule, to bring home the meat
they should procure. They had been some few hours absent, when they came
clattering at full speed into camp, giving the war cry of Blackfeet!
Blackfeet! Every one seized his weapon and ran to learn the cause of the
alarm. It appeared that the hunters, as they were returning leisurely,
leading their mule well laden with prime pieces of buffalo meat, passed
close by a small stream overhung with trees, about two miles from
the camp. Suddenly a party of Blackfeet, who lay in ambush along the
thickets, sprang up with a fearful yell, and discharged a volley at the
hunters. The latter immediately threw themselves flat on their horses,
put them to their speed, and never paused to look behind, until they
found themselves in camp. Fortunately they had escaped without a wound;
but the mule, with all the "provant," had fallen into the hands of the
enemy This was a loss, as well as an insult, not to be borne. Every
man sprang to horse, and with rifle in hand, galloped off to punish
the Blackfeet, and rescue the buffalo beef. They came too late; the
marauders were off, and all that they found of their mule was the dents
of his hoofs, as he had been conveyed off at a round trot, bearing his
savory cargo to the hills, to furnish the scampering savages with a
banquet of roast meat at the expense of the white men.

The party returned to camp, balked of their revenge, but still more
grievously balked of their supper. Buckeye, the Delaware, sat smoking by
his fire, perfectly composed. As the hunters related the particulars
of the attack, he listened in silence, with unruffled countenance, then
pointing to the west, "the sun has not yet set," said he: "Buckeye did
not dream like a fool!"

All present now recollected the prediction of the Indian at daybreak,
and were struck with what appeared to be its fulfilment. They called to
mind, also, a long catalogue of foregone presentiments and predictions
made at various times by the Delaware, and, in their superstitious
credulity, began to consider him a veritable seer; without thinking how
natural it was to predict danger, and how likely to have the prediction
verified in the present instance, when various signs gave evidence of a
lurking foe.

The various bands of Captain Bonneville's company had now been assembled
for some time at the rendezvous; they had had their fill of feasting,
and frolicking, and all the species of wild and often uncouth
merrymaking, which invariably take place on these occasions. Their
horses, as well as themselves, had recovered from past famine and
fatigue, and were again fit for active service; and an impatience began
to manifest itself among the men once more to take the field, and set
off on some wandering expedition.

At this juncture M. Cerre arrived at the rendezvous at the head of a
supply party, bringing goods and equipments from the States. This active
leader, it will be recollected, had embarked the year previously in
skin-boats on the Bighorn, freighted with the year's collection of
peltries. He had met with misfortune in the course of his voyage: one of
his frail barks being upset, and part of the furs lost or damaged.

The arrival of the supplies gave the regular finish to the annual
revel. A grand outbreak of wild debauch ensued among the mountaineers;
drinking, dancing, swaggering, gambling, quarrelling, and fighting.
Alcohol, which, from its portable qualities, containing the greatest
quantity of fiery spirit in the smallest compass, is the only liquor
carried across the mountains, is the inflammatory beverage at these
carousals, and is dealt out to the trappers at four dollars a pint. When
inflamed by this fiery beverage, they cut all kinds of mad pranks
and gambols, and sometimes burn all their clothes in their drunken
bravadoes. A camp, recovering from one of these riotous revels, presents
a seriocomic spectacle; black eyes, broken heads, lack-lustre visages.
Many of the trappers have squandered in one drunken frolic the
hard-earned wages of a year; some have run in debt, and must toil on to
pay for past pleasure. All are sated with this deep draught of pleasure,
and eager to commence another trapping campaign; for hardship and hard
work, spiced with the stimulants of wild adventures, and topped off with
an annual frantic carousal, is the lot of the restless trapper.

The captain now made his arrangements for the current year. Cerre and
Walker, with a number of men who had been to California, were to proceed
to St. Louis with the packages of furs collected during the past year.
Another party, headed by a leader named Montero, was to proceed to the
Crow country, trap upon its various streams, and among the Black Hills,
and thence to proceed to the Arkansas, where he was to go into winter
quarters.

The captain marked out for himself a widely different course. He
intended to make another expedition, with twenty-three men to the
lower part of the Columbia River, and to proceed to the valley of the
Multnomah; after wintering in those parts, and establishing a trade with
those tribes, among whom he had sojourned on his first visit, he would
return in the spring, cross the Rocky Mountains, and join Montero and
his party in the month of July, at the rendezvous of the Arkansas; where
he expected to receive his annual supplies from the States.

If the reader will cast his eye upon a map, he may form an idea of the
contempt for distance which a man acquires in this vast wilderness, by
noticing the extent of country comprised in these projected wanderings.
Just as the different parties were about to set out on the 3d of July,
on their opposite routes, Captain Bonneville received intelligence that
Wyeth, the indefatigable leader of the salmon-fishing enterprise, who
had parted with him about a year previously on the banks of the Bighorn,
to descend that wild river in a bull boat, was near at hand, with a new
levied band of hunters and trappers, and was on his way once more to the
banks of the Columbia.

As we take much interest in the novel enterprise of this "eastern man,"
and are pleased with his pushing and persevering spirit; and as his
movements are characteristic of life in the wilderness, we will, with
the reader's permission, while Captain Bonneville is breaking up his
camp and saddling his horses, step back a year in time, and a few
hundred miles in distance to the bank of the Bighorn, and launch
ourselves with Wyeth in his bull boat; and though his adventurous voyage
will take us many hundreds of miles further down wild and wandering
rivers; yet such is the magic power of the pen, that we promise to bring
the reader safe to Bear River Valley, by the time the last horse is
saddled.




41.

A voyage in a bull boat.

IT was about the middle of August (1833) that Mr. Nathaniel J. Wyeth,
as the reader may recollect, launched his bull boat at the foot of
the rapids of the Bighorn, and departed in advance of the parties of
Campbell and Captain Bonneville. His boat was made of three buffalo
skins, stretched on a light frame, stitched together, and the seams paid
with elk tallow and ashes. It was eighteen feet long, and about five
feet six inches wide, sharp at each end, with a round bottom, and drew
about a foot and a half of water-a depth too great for these upper
rivers, which abound with shallows and sand-bars. The crew consisted of
two half-breeds, who claimed to be white men, though a mixture of the
French creole and the Shawnee and Potawattomie. They claimed, moreover,
to be thorough mountaineers, and first-rate hunters--the common boast of
these vagabonds of the wilderness. Besides these, there was a Nez Perce
lad of eighteen years of age, a kind of servant of all work, whose great
aim, like all Indian servants, was to do as little work as possible;
there was, moreover, a half-breed boy, of thirteen, named Baptiste, son
of a Hudson's Bay trader by a Flathead beauty; who was travelling with
Wyeth to see the world and complete his education. Add to these, Mr.
Milton Sublette, who went as passenger, and we have the crew of the
little bull boat complete.

It certainly was a slight armament with which to run the gauntlet
through countries swarming with hostile hordes, and a slight bark to
navigate these endless rivers, tossing and pitching down rapids, running
on snags and bumping on sand-bars; such, however, are the cockle-shells
with which these hardy rovers of the wilderness will attempt the wildest
streams; and it is surprising what rough shocks and thumps these
boats will endure, and what vicissitudes they will live through. Their
duration, however, is but limited; they require frequently to be
hauled out of the water and dried, to prevent the hides from becoming
water-soaked; and they eventually rot and go to pieces.

The course of the river was a little to the north of east; it ran about
five miles an hour, over a gravelly bottom. The banks were generally
alluvial, and thickly grown with cottonwood trees, intermingled
occasionally with ash and plum trees. Now and then limestone cliffs
and promontories advanced upon the river, making picturesque headlands.
Beyond the woody borders rose ranges of naked hills.

Milton Sublette was the Pelorus of this adventurous bark; being somewhat
experienced in this wild kind of navigation. It required all his
attention and skill, however, to pilot her clear of sand-bars and snags
of sunken trees. There was often, too, a perplexity of choice, where
the river branched into various channels, among clusters of islands; and
occasionally the voyagers found themselves aground and had to turn back.

It was necessary, also, to keep a wary eye upon the land, for they were
passing through the heart of the Crow country, and were continually in
reach of any ambush that might be lurking on shore. The most formidable
foes that they saw, however, were three grizzly bears, quietly
promenading along the bank, who seemed to gaze at them with surprise as
they glided by. Herds of buffalo, also, were moving about, or lying
on the ground, like cattle in a pasture; excepting such inhabitants as
these, a perfect solitude reigned over the land. There was no sign
of human habitation; for the Crows, as we have already shown, are a
wandering people, a race of hunters and warriors, who live in tents and
on horseback, and are continually on the move. At night they landed,
hauled up their boat to dry, pitched their tent, and made a rousing
fire. Then, as it was the first evening of their voyage, they indulged
in a regale, relishing their buffalo beef with inspiring alcohol; after
which, they slept soundly, without dreaming of Crows or Blackfeet. Early
in the morning, they again launched the boat and committed themselves to
the stream.

In this way they voyaged for two days without any material occurrence,
excepting a severe thunder storm, which compelled them to put to shore,
and wait until it was passed. On the third morning they descried
some persons at a distance on the river bank. As they were now, by
calculation, at no great distance from Fort Cass, a trading post of the
American Fur Company, they supposed these might be some of its people. A
nearer approach showed them to be Indians. Descrying a woman apart from
the rest, they landed and accosted her. She informed them that the main
force of the Crow nation, consisting of five bands, under their several
chiefs, were but about two or three miles below, on their way up along
the river. This was unpleasant tidings, but to retreat was impossible,
and the river afforded no hiding place. They continued forward,
therefore, trusting that, as Fort Cass was so near at hand, the Crows
might refrain from any depredations.

Floating down about two miles further, they came in sight of the first
band, scattered along the river bank, all well mounted; some armed with
guns, others with bows and arrows, and a few with lances. They made
a wildly picturesque appearance managing their horses with their
accustomed dexterity and grace. Nothing can be more spirited than a band
of Crow cavaliers. They are a fine race of men averaging six feet in
height, lithe and active, with hawks' eyes and Roman noses. The
latter feature is common to the Indians on the east side of the Rocky
Mountains; those on the western side have generally straight or flat
noses.

Wyeth would fain have slipped by this cavalcade unnoticed; but the
river, at this place, was not more than ninety yards across; he was
perceived, therefore, and hailed by the vagabond warriors, and,
we presume, in no very choice language; for, among their other
accomplishments, the Crows are famed for possessing a Billingsgate
vocabulary of unrivalled opulence, and for being by no means sparing
of it whenever an occasion offers. Indeed, though Indians are generally
very lofty, rhetorical, and figurative in their language at all great
talks, and high ceremonials, yet, if trappers and traders may be
believed, they are the most unsavory vagabonds in their ordinary
colloquies; they make no hesitation to call a spade a spade; and when
they once undertake to call hard names, the famous pot and kettle, of
vituperating memory, are not to be compared with them for scurrility of
epithet.

To escape the infliction of any compliments of this kind, or the
launching, peradventure, of more dangerous missiles, Wyeth landed with
the best grace in his power and approached the chief of the band. It was
Arapooish, the quondam friend of Rose the outlaw, and one whom we have
already mentioned as being anxious to promote a friendly intercourse
between his tribe and the white men. He was a tall, stout man, of good
presence, and received the voyagers very graciously. His people, too,
thronged around them, and were officiously attentive after the Crow
fashion. One took a great fancy to Baptiste the Flathead boy, and a
still greater fancy to a ring on his finger, which he transposed to his
own with surprising dexterity, and then disappeared with a quick step
among the crowd.

Another was no less pleased with the Nez Perce lad, and nothing would do
but he must exchange knives with him; drawing a new knife out of the Nez
Perce's scabbard, and putting an old one in its place. Another stepped
up and replaced this old knife with one still older, and a third helped
himself to knife, scabbard and all. It was with much difficulty that
Wyeth and his companions extricated themselves from the clutches of
these officious Crows before they were entirely plucked.

Falling down the river a little further, they came in sight of the
second band, and sheered to the opposite side, with the intention of
passing them. The Crows were not to be evaded. Some pointed their guns
at the boat, and threatened to fire; others stripped, plunged into the
stream, and came swimming across. Making a virtue of necessity, Wyeth
threw a cord to the first that came within reach, as if he wished to be
drawn to the shore.

In this way he was overhauled by every band, and by the time he and his
people came out of the busy hands of the last, they were eased of most
of their superfluities. Nothing, in all probability, but the proximity
of the American trading post, kept these land pirates from making a good
prize of the bull boat and all its contents.

These bands were in full march, equipped for war, and evidently full of
mischief. They were, in fact, the very bands that overran the land in
the autumn of 1833; partly robbed Fitzpatrick of his horses and effects;
hunted and harassed Captain Bonneville and his people; broke up their
trapping campaigns, and, in a word, drove them all out of the Crow
country. It has been suspected that they were set on to these pranks by
some of the American Fur Company, anxious to defeat the plans of
their rivals of the Rocky Mountain Company; for at this time, their
competition was at its height, and the trade of the Crow country was a
great object of rivalry. What makes this the more probable, is, that the
Crows in their depredation seemed by no means bloodthirsty, but intent
chiefly on robbing the parties of their traps and horses, thereby
disabling them from prosecuting their hunting.

We should observe that this year, the Rocky Mountain Company were
pushing their way up the rivers, and establishing rival posts near those
of the American Company; and that, at the very time of which we are
speaking, Captain Sublette was ascending the Yellowstone with a keel
boat, laden with supplies; so that there was every prospect of this
eager rivalship being carried to extremes.

The last band of Crow warriors had scarcely disappeared in the clouds
of dust they had raised, when our voyagers arrived at the mouth of the
river and glided into the current of the Yellowstone. Turning down this
stream, they made for Fort Cass, which is situated on the right bank,
about three miles below the Bighorn. On the opposite side they beheld
a party of thirty-one savages, which they soon ascertained to be
Blackfeet. The width of the river enabled them to keep at a sufficient
distance, and they soon landed at Fort Cass. This was a mere
fortification against Indians; being a stockade of about one hundred and
thirty feet square, with two bastions at the extreme corners. M'Tulloch,
an agent of the American Company, was stationed there with twenty men;
two boats of fifteen tons burden were lying here; but at certain seasons
of the year a steamboat can come up to the fort.