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ALTOWAN;

OR,

INCIDENTS OF LIFE AND ADVENTURE

THE ROCKY MOUNTAINS.

AN AMATEUR TRAVELER.

icvid 5

EDITED BY

J. WATSON WEBB.

IN TWO VOLUMES.

VOL. I.

HARPER & BROTHERS, PUBLISHERS,

82 CLIFF STREET, NEW YORK.

1846.

Cheeked

THE^' Y0RK
PUBLIC LIBRARY

-HLDtN FOUNDATIONS.
19\3 L

Entered, according to Act of Congress, in the year 1846, by

Harper & Brothers,
In the Clerk's Office of the Southern District of New-York.

NOTICE TO THE READER.

The following story has been written for the
amusement of some young friends on Long Island.
The sketches of Indian habits and the incidents
of the chase which it contains, are taken from
life, and the description of the regions where the
scene is laid, in the western wilds, is drawn from
Nature.

It has been written during voyages over heav-
ing seas and in moments of idleness in various
parts of the world ; and, just as it is, without even
a revision, I offer it to those for whom it was in-
tended. Should it ever go beyond their fireside
and be read by others, though I may bespeak
their indulgence, I can owe them no apology.

CHARLES FENNO HOFFMAN, Esq.

My dear Sir,

Your knowledge and love of woodcraft, and
your ability to appreciate a correct picture of the
North American Indian — sketched from life by
the pencil of a master — prompt this dedication of
a work, which will be found, on perusal, one of the
very few which exhibits the native of our forests
as he was, and still is, where he roams uncontam-
inated by his intercourse with civilized man, the
boundless regions of the Northwest.

There is no one subject upon which such uni-
versal ignorance prevails, as in regard to the
habits, customs, and character of the North
American Indian ; and yet almost all Americans
imagine, that on this question at least, they are
well-informed.* This is very natural; and

* Among the deluded mass, our countryman Cooper stands
conspicuous. In common with all of us, he listened in infancy

IV DEDICATION.

doubtless, I would have been equally misled by
the nursery tales of our country, if it had not
been my lot to pass nearly nine years of my life
in the army ; and most of that period, as you
well know, upon our then northwestern frontier

to the nursery tales which had been handed down from gen-
eration to generation, with such additions as the love of the
marvelous among nursery maids, very naturally prompted ; and
as Mr. Cooper is not accustomed to doubt the accuracy of his
knowledge on any subject, it should not be matter of surprise
with those who know him, that he assumes perfectly to un-
derstand the Indian character. In consequence of this as-
sumption of knowledge — based solely upon the sources to
which I have referred — he has written a series of exceeding-
ly clever books, the chief tendency of which is to perpetuate
his own crude conceptions of Indian character, by embodying
all the nursery gossip of two centuries, and handing it down
to posterity as a picture drawn from life, instead of what it
really is — the tradition of the ignorant, embellished by the
lovers of the marvelous, to frighten into silence, if not sleep,
the restless inmates of the nursery.

I do not make these remarks in any spirit of unkindness to
Mr. Cooper, but in the way of protest against his delineation
of Indian character ; nor do I flatter myself that I can by such
protest, prevent, through all time, his caricatures of the North
American Indian, being measurably received as faithful por-
traitures of a race rapidly passing away before the resistless
march of civilization. Mr. Cooper has justly won for himself,
by his works of fiction, a place in the literary history of his
country ; and although posterity can not fail to note his liter-
ary deficiencies and want of familiarity with the beauties of
his native language ; and although they may possibly learn
that he was a man of violent passions, self-willed, and ego-
tistical to an extent which prompted him, in an evil hour, and
for an imaginary slight, to misrepresent and hold up to the
ridicule of Europe, the manners, habits, and tastes of his

DEDICATION. V

— at Green Bay, Chicago, the Upper Mississip-
pi, and Missouri — at a period when the white
man was only known to the native of the forest
through the army, and the Indian trader and'
voyageur, who annually passed into their coun-

countrymen — they must ever concede to him talents of a high
order, however deficient he may be in genius and literary ac-
quirements. His plain, practical, common-sense view of all
subjects which do not involve his personal feelings and prej-
udices, can not fail to secure him a high rank among his con-
temporaries ; and at the expiration of half a century — when
it will matter little whether his picture of American society
in 1836, was or was not a ridiculous caricature, prompted by
mortified vanity — the only portions of his works which I
should desire to see expunged, are his very graphic, but fan-
ciful conceptions of Indian character, and his misrepresenta-
tions — I can not use a milder term — of the battle of Lake
Erie in the war of 1812.

The biographers of Perry and the historians of the late
war, have already very thoroughly exposed the gross injustice
done to Perry and the nation in Cooper's account of that
naval engagement ; while the incidental remarks of this in-
troduction to an authentic work on Indian life, will at least
caution the general reader against his delineations of Indian
character.

When in 1819, I entered the army, I too, in common with
most persons in the Atlantic States, believed in the nursery
picture of Indian life which had become traditionary in all our
homes ; and had I not become a wanderer in the Western
wilds, and a sojourner in the wigwams of its people, I should
doubtless, have been one of the most confiding believers in
Mr. Cooper's portrait of the aborigines — based, as it unques-
tionably is, upon his profound knowledge of their character,
acquired in connection with the veritable history of "Mother
Goose," and the no less interesting adventures of "Jack the
Giant-killer."

VI DEDICATION.

try, but confined themselves to its principal wa-
ter-courses.

After reporting for duty — a boy of seventeen —
sixty days of military duty in this harbor, were
quite sufficient to give me a surfeit of city garri-
son life, and to revive in me the earliest prompt-
ings of my boyhood — a desire to visit the un-
known regions of the great West ; to hunt and
shoot where the Indian alone had disturbed the
game ; to angle in streams where the line of the
white man and the disciples of the wily Walton,
had never tempted their finny inhabitants ; and to
roam with the aboriginal savage his native for-
ests ; to see him in his native grandeur, and to
know him as he was and is, when uncontaminat-
ed by contact with that civilization of which he
is certain to imbibe all that is vicious, while it
fails to impart to him, in return, any of its bless-
ings.

An opportunity soon offered to indulge this
early bent of my nature. The autumn of 1819
found me on duty at Detroit, and the following
spring, in command of a separate post on Lake
Huron. Thenceforward my progress was west-
ward ; and during a long period I reveled in
those scenes which imagination had ever por-
trayed as full of excitement and adventure ; and

DEDICATION. V i 1

the actual charms of which, exceeded even the
imaginings of a somewhat ardent temperament.

But it is no part of my intention to write a
history of my own adventures in the Far West ;
and this allusion to them, is simply to remind
you that I should be qualified, by experience at
least, to judge of any delineation of Indian char-
acter which may come under my observation.

Having said this much of myself, permit me
to give you a history of " Altowan" and apprise
you how it happens that I am its editor.

In the summer of 1832, a British half-pay offi-
cer visited this city, and we were accidentally
thrown much in each other's society. A simi-
larity of tastes and pursuits, soon produced an
intimacy, gradually ripening into a friendship,
which I trust, is destined to continue through
life. He was one of the gallant fellows who
fought under Wellington at Waterloo, and bore
upon his person honorable marks of his gallantry
upon that occasion, and among his insignia, the
evidence of his country's gratitude. The second
son of one of the most ancient families in Great
Britain, with the blood of princes in his veins,
and connected by birth and intermarriages with
royalty itself, he had retired upon half pay ; and

in the spirit of adventure, which forms a prom-
I.—B

Vlii DEDICATION.

inent trait in his character, visited the United
States for the sole purpose of penetrating • the
great wilderness of the West, and partaking in
the excitement and adventure which it promised
— regardless alike of the privations and dangers
inseparable from such a life.

At that period, I was probably, of all others,
the person in this city who could best further his
views ; and when the season for his departure ar-
rived, he carried with him the necessary letters
of introduction to my old fellow-soldiers in the
West, and to such prominent gentlemen, not in
the army, as could, by their position and advice,
put him in the way of accomplishing the object
of his visit to our shores. Among those to whom
I gave him letters, were the late Governor Clarke,
of Missouri, and Generals Atkinson and Ashley.
The latter, though not of the army, went annual-
ly into the Indian country in military array, to
receive on the head-waters of the Yellow Stone,
the furs and peltries which had been collected
during the preceding year, and to furnish the next
year's supply of Indian goods to the traders ; and
it was under his auspices, that our author first vis-
ited the Rocky Mountains. When General Ash-
ley returned to the haunts of civilization, my
friend, accompanied by a small band of hired voy-

DEDICATION. IX

ageurs, continued his course to the Pacific ; vis-
ited the different establishments of the Hudson's
Bay Company ; spent three winters in the Rocky
Mountains, in Oregon, and Upper California ; and
finally, after an absence of three years and a half,
returned to St. Louis. During this long sojourn
in the wilderness, he had literally suffered every
thing but death from hostile bands of Indians —
from hunger, exposure, and fatigue. He had met
with " hair-breadth 'scapes" of every kind ; but
he had hunted and killed the grizzly bear and the
buffalo ; he had seen and lived with the North
American Indian in his native wilds ; and he had
looked upon a country fresh from the hands of
the Creator — filled with magnificent lakes, lofty
mountains, and boundless prairies, which spoke
the nothingness of man, and involuntarily car-
ried the heart and the mind " from nature up to
nature's God."

On his return to St. Louis, he learned that his
brother, the head of his ancient house, had died
without issue, and that he was the inheritor of
the family title and a princely estate. He came
and spent some time with me on Long Island
preparatory to his return home ; but eager as
ever for the life of adventure he had been living,
he soon abandoned his purpose, and determined

X DEDICATION.

to revisit the great West, accompanied by a large
retinue, and an artist of merit to sketch the va-
rious scenes which had made an impression upon
him during his previous visit. Again was he ab-
sent two summers and a winter, devoting his
time to hunting, and partaking of all the excite-
ment of that boundless region ; and on his re-
turn, after spending some time with his earliest
friend in America, he sailed for home, to take
possession of his paternal estates.

There, in the castle of his ancestors — a venera-
ble pile, erected in 1604 — I have since visited him
and spent many a happy hour. There, he is not
only surrounded by a devoted tenantry, whose
cares he makes his own, and a large circle of dis-
tinguished friends, who honor and appreciate his
virtues ; but by galleries of magnificent paint-
ings, executed by our countryman Miller, from
sketches by himself, made during the second visit
of the author to the Rocky Mountains, Oregon,
and California. And there, too, I took our friend
Inman, during his visit to Europe in 1844; and
had his life been spared, the present volumes
would have been illustrated by drawings of his,
taken from sketches in the portfolio of the author.
But our departed friend detailed to you the pleas-
ures of that visit, of which " Salmon Fishing near

DEDICATION. XI

Birnam Wood," one of his last works, and so
justly admired, is a speaking memento.

When the author first visited the Great West,
I urged him to keep a journal of his travels and
adventures for publication ; but to this he was
greatly averse. He made however, a half
promise, that he would do something in the way
of recording the incidents of his travels, and de-
scribing the countries of his wanderings ; and
the work I now take pleasure in dedicating to
you, is the fulfillment of that promise. It was
written solely for the eye of my family and for
the amusement of my children ; and it was only
during my last visit to the author, accompani-
ed by Inman, who promised to prepare the il-
lustrations for the work, that publication was de-
termined upon and promised. " The sketches
of Indian habits, and the incidents of the chase
which it contains, are," he tells us in his notice
to the reader, " taken from life ; and the descrip-
tions of the regions where the scene is laid in the
Western wilds, are drawn from nature" This,
it is scarcely necessary to say, gives an histori-
cal interest to the work ; while the reader will
find no difficulty in discovering how much of it
is fiction, and adopted only to give it additional
zest to " his young friends on Long Island."

Xll DEDICATION.

Oregon and California — the Rocky Mountains
and the boundless prairies of the West — have at
this time, charms for children of a larger growth
than this work was designed to amuse. And al-
though, as the author says, " it was written du-
ring voyages over heaving seas, and in moments
of idleness in different parts of the world," it is
not the less true to nature ; because he had with
him the original notes made during his sojourn in
the Indian country. Since his first visit to the
United States, the author has traveled in the
inhospitable regions of Northern Russia, and
through the more luxurious, though scarcely
more civilized, East ; and a portion of the man-
uscript was forwarded to me from Constantino-
ple. It may not be uninteresting to the young
traveler to add, that in 1842 the author again vis-
ited our country and the scenes of his former
adventures, — declaring that it had charms for
him which no other land possesses.

Such, my dear sir, is the history of these vol-
umes ; and to the lover of woodcraft, and all
who would study the habits of the North Amer-
ican Indian in his own wild home, they can not
fail to be a very acceptable contribution. How
far the instincts of our nature, and the senses of
hearing, seeing, and smelling, are affected, or

DEDICATION. Xlll

even changed by civilization, is a question which
still remains to be decided; and in relation to
which, you and I possess facts, that are not only
startling in themselves, but which warrant a
closer research on the part of the curious in such
matters. I will relate an instance which came
under my own observation, and which to this day
I have never been able to explain, except on the
hypothesis, that the senses given to man in his
native state, being less necessary for him in the
artificial life which civilization has substituted,
they greatly degenerate ; and consequently, that
the vision, the hearing, and the sense of smelling
in the Indian are so much more acute than in
civilized man, that we are frequently disposed to
attribute to instinct, what properly speaking, is
simply the habitual exercise of these senses as
originally bestowed by the Almighty.

In the winter of 1821-22, I was stationed at
Chicago, then about one hundred and fifty miles
in advance of the pioneer settlers. All west and
north of us, with the exception of the old French
settlements at Green Bay and Prairie du Chien,
was an untrodden wilderness, or trodden only
by the lords of the forest and the adventurous
trapper and voyageur. A short time previous,
the fifth regiment of infantry, under the com-

XiV DEDICATION.

mand of Colonel Snelling, had established it-
self on the Upper Mississippi, at the Falls of St.
Anthony. Early in February, 1822, the princi-
pal chief of the Pot aw atomies, one of the most
friendly tribes west of Lake Michigan, reported
to the Indian agent at our post, that his tribe had
received an invitation from the Sioux Indians to
unite with them in cutting off the garrison at St.
Peter's, at the Falls of St. Anthony ; and, as evi-
dence of his truth, produced the tobacco said to
have been sent to them by the Sioux, and which
generally accompanies such propositions for a
war league. As no doubt was entertained of
the truth of this report, the commanding officer
directed me (the adjutant) to make an arrange-
ment with some of the voyageurs connected with
the Indian trading house near the fort, to carry
the intelligence to Fort Armstrong, situated on
Rock Island in the Mississippi, near the mouth
of Rock River, thence to be forwarded to Colo-
nel Snelling. They however, refused all my
offers ; alleging that none of them had ever cross-
ed the country in the winter season — that it was
impracticable, &c, &c.

The same love of adventure and excitement
which had induced me to exchange a station in
this city for Detroit, and then from an artillery

DEDICATION. XV

into an infantry regiment, added to a conviction
that the lives of a whole regiment of officers and
men, their wives and children, were in jeopardy,
and that it was possible to avert the impending
blow, induced me to volunteer to be the bearer
of the intelligence to Fort Armstrong.

I accordingly took my departure, accompanied
by a sergeant, who was a good woodsman, and
an Indian of my own age. The first two or
three days, were days of weariness to me, and
of frolick and fun to the Indian ; because we ne-
cessarily traveled on foot, in consequence of the
extreme severity of the weather, with our pro-
visions on a pack-horse, and a horse to break the
snow, and make a trail in which to walk. The
actual suffering consisted in riding our regular
tour ; but I, being " all unused" to travel through
the snow on foot for hour after hour consecu-
tively, was weary and worn out when we came
to bivouac at night ; while the Indian, was ap-
parently, as fresh as when we started, and crack-
ed his jokes without mercy upon the fagged Che-
mo-ca-mun, or " Long Knife," as they denomi-
nate all whites. I found, however — as I had been
told by those who were learned in such matters
— that the endurance of the Indian, bears no
comparison with that of the white man. He

XVI DEDICATION.

will start off on a " dog trot," and accomplish his
eighty or a hundred miles in an incredible short
space of time ; but when he comes to day after
day of regular work and endurance, he soon
begins to flag, and finally becomes worn out ;
while each succeeding day only inures the white
man to his work, trains him for further exertion,
and the better fits him for the following day's la-
bors. Thus it was with my Indian and myself;
and on the evening of the fourth day, I came to
camp fresh as when we started, while the Indian
came in, weary and fatigued ; and of course, it
was then my turn to boast of the endurance of
the Che-mo-ca-mun, and the effeminacy of the
" Niche-nawby."

My instructions were, to employ the Potawat-
omie as a guide to the Rock River, where the
country of the Winebagoes commenced, and then
take a Winebago as a guide to Fort Armstrong —
the leading object being so to arrange our line
of travel as to avoid the prairies, upon which, we
would necessarily suffer from the cold. I had
been apprised that I would find an old Canadian
voyageur residing with his Indian family in a
trading hut on Rock River, and it was to him
my Potawatomie was to guide me.

Toward evening on the fifth day, we reached

DEDICATION. Xvii

our place of destination ; and old La Sailer, rec-
ognizing us as whites, and of course from the
fort, intimated by signs, as he conducted us to
the loft of his hut, that we were to preserve a
profound silence. All who live in the Indian
country learn to obey signs ; and it is wonder-
ful how soon we almost forget to ask questions.
I knew that something was wrong, but it never
entered my head to inquire what it was — Indian-
like, quite willing to bide my time, even if the
finger closely pressed upon the lips of the old
man had not apprised me that I should get no
answer until it suited his discretion to make a
communication.

It was nearly dark when we were consigned
to the loft of the good old man ; and for three long
hours we saw him not. During this period there
was abundant time for meditation upon our posi-
tion ; when all at once the profound stillness which
reigned in and around the hut, was broken by the
startling sound of a Winebago war-dance in our
immediate vicinity ! This, as you may imagine,
was no very agreeable sound for my sergeant or
myself, but it was perfectly horrifying to my Pot-
awatomie : all of which tribe, as also their nei^h-
bours, were as much in awe of a Winebago, as
is a flying-fish of a dolphin. But all suspense

XV111 DEDICATION.*

has its end ; and at length the war-dance ceased
— the music of which, at times, could only be li-
kened to the shrieks of the damned, and then,
again, partook of the character of the recitative
in an Italian opera, until, at length, it died away,
and all was silence.

Then came old La Sailer, whose head, whitened
by the snows of eighty winters, as it showed it-
self through the trap in the floor, was a far more
acceptable sight than I could have anticipated it
would be when I left the fort. Having been in-
formed who we were, and my desire to procure
a Winebago to guide me to Fort Armstrong, he
inquired whether we had not heard the war-
dance, and if we could not conjecture its object !
He then proceeded to state that two Wineba-
goes, who had been tried and sentenced to be ex-
ecuted for the murder of a soldier at Fort Arm-
strong, had escaped from the jail at Kaskaskia,
and arrived on the river a few days previous ;
that in consequence, the whole nation was in a
state of extraordinary excitement, and that the
war-dance to which we had listened, was pre-
paratory to the starting of a war-party for Fort
Armstrong to attack it, or destroy such of the
garrison as they could meet with beyond its pal-
isades ; and that of course, our only safety was in

DEDICATION. xix

making an early start homeward. I inquired
whether I could not avoid the Indians by cross-
ing the Great Prairie, and thus striking the Mis-
sissippi above the fort. He answered, that by
such a route I would certainly avoid the Indians
until I reached the vicinity of the Mississippi ; but
that we would as certainly perish with the cold,
as there was no wood to furnish a fire at night.
The mercury in the thermometer, as I well knew,
had stood at five degrees below zero when I left
the garrison, and it had certainly been growing
colder each day ; and therefore I apparently ac-
quiesced in his advice, and requested to be called
some three hours before daylight, which would
give us a fair start of any pursuing party — and
bade him good-night.

But the old man doubted my intention to re-
turn to the fort ; and shortly after, paid us anoth-
er visit, accompanied by a very old Winebago,
who avowed himself the firm friend of the whites,
and proceeded to point out the folly of any at-
tempt to proceed in my expedition. He inquired
its purport ; and when I told him that it was to
visit a dying friend, he said I had better postpone
the meeting until after death, when we w T ould
doubtless meet in the Paradise of the white man !
but at the same time gave me to understand that

XX DEDICATION.

he did not believe such was the object of my visit
to the banks of the Mississippi. Indian-like, he
sought not to pry farther into my affairs, but ex-
pressed his respect for all who knew how to keep
to themselves their own counsels and the coun-
sels of their government. His remarks were
kind, and in the nature of approbation for the
past and advice for the future ; and coming from
such a source, made a lasting impression.

Again we were left to ourselves ; and then,
doubtless, I wished myself safe in garrison. But
to return, and that too, from fear, and the object
of my journey unaccomplished, was inevitable
disgrace. But what was still more important,
was the consequence to others of my return. I
could not but think there was an understanding
between the Winebagoes and the Sioux; and if
there had lingered on my mind a doubt of the
story of the Potawatomie chief, that doubt was
now at an end ; and of course, a sense of duty
to a whole regiment of officers and men, their
wives and children, was as imperative in requir-
ing my advance, as was the fear of disgrace in
forbidding my return. With two such motives
for a right decision, there could be no doubt as
to my course. It required more courage to re-
treat than to advance ; and I determined upon
the latter.

DEDICATION. XXi

Some hours before the dawn of day, we start-
ed, apparently for garrison ; but once out of
sight of old La Sailer, we knocked the shoes off
our horses to avoid being traced by them in
crossing the river, threw away our caps, tore up
a blanket to make the hood worn by Indians in
extreme cold weather, and took a course by the
stars directly west. I should have mentioned,
that my Indian now having become valueless, I
urged his return to his own tribe. But neither
persuasion nor threats, could induce him to go.
In every bush he imagined he saw a Winebago,
and he dared not return alone. I then urged
what was quite apparent would be the fact —
that he could not sustain the forced march to
which we were destined, and. upon which our
safety depended. But it was all in vain ; and I
was compelled to take him with us.

And now, after this long introduction, I come
to the point of my story. The second day after
leaving Rock River was the coldest T ever ex-
perienced. The ground was covered with about
eight inches of snow ; and no one who has not ex-
perienced it, can well imagine with what piercing
effect the wind passes over those boundless fields
of snow, unbroken by a single tree. On that day,
at Fort Armstrong, sixty miles south of me and

XXII DEDICATION.

sheltered by woods, I afterward ascertained that
the mercury never rose above fourteen degrees
below zero ! How cold it was where we were,
it is impossible to conjecture ; but I know that
when my Indian failed in strength, and absolutely
refused to take his turn in riding the horse to
break a trail through the snow, I rode his tour
of ten minutes in addition to my own ; and when
I got down, discovered that my feet, face, hands,
and knees, were frozen !

To encamp without wood was an impossibil-
ity. The country is a high, rolling prairie ; and
from a naked hill, about five o'clock in the after-
noon, I discovered an island of woods lying
southwest of us, and distant some ten miles.
When the Indian saw the distance yet to travel,
the hope with which I had all along cheered him,
failed, and he announced his utter inability to
proceed. To place him on our horse was cer-
tain death to him ; to remain with him in the
prairie, without wood, and consequently without
fire, was as certain death to all ; yet he begged
most piteously that we would not abandon him !
He was but a boy ; and although, even at that
age, he might have met death at the stake with
all an Indian's coolness, he could not make up his
mind to a death from fatigue and cold. I reas-

DEDICATION. XXiii

oned with him upon' the folfy of all perishing in
an idle attempt to save one, pointed out the wood
to him, promised him to build up a large fire to
guide him to us as soon as we reached it, and
with a heavy heart took leave of him, with but
little expectation of seeing him again.

Night set in shortly after we separated, and
not a solitary star was visible ; but our course to
the wood lying southwest, and the wind blowing
cuttingly severe from the northwest, there was
but little difficulty in keeping on our way. In
about an hour the wind lulled ; and then we felt
the awkwardness of our position. On a track-
less prairie covered with snow — without trail,
moon, star, or wood — what evidence did we pos-
sess that we were going in the direction we de-
sired ! The reflection was not a comfortable one ;
but we knew the worst of our position. We
could but wander at random all night on the
prairie, and find our way to shelter in the morn-
ing ; but not so our poor Indian ; and with the
lulling of the wind, the last gleam of hope for
him, was necessarily abandoned.

This calm may have continued nearly two
hours, when again the wind rose ; but instead
of blowing upon our right cheeks, it struck us
upon the left. That the weather had not mod-

XXIV DEDICATION.

erated, we had too much reason to believe ; and
consequently, we came to a halt, lighted our
spunk, held it to my pocket compass — and behold,
we were traveling northeast, or directly from,
instead of to, our haven of rest ! This created no
surprise ; though of course, we were not particu-
larly pleased to discover that we had lost so much
time on such a night, in the wilderness of prairie
with which we were surrounded ; but life in the
wilderness is a life of action. We promptly re-
sumed our march in the proper direction, with
the wind a certain guide, if it did not again lull.
And now comes the wonder. In less than half an
hour we overtook our Indian, traveling leisurely
in the same direction as ourselves ! Never before
nor since, have I been so surprised. My first salu-
tation was, " Where are you going ?" He an-
swered, "To the woods." "And how do you
know that you are going to the woods?" He
could not tell how or why he knew he was right,
but he was certain — had not a doubt ! I then un-
dertook to question him more closely, but it was
of no avail. He knew not why it was, but he was
as perfectly certain that he was traveling in the
right direction, as if it had been broad daylight,
and the wood directly in view. He had travel-
ed slow, was somewhat refreshed, and we all

DEDICATION. XXV

traveled leisurely until about ten o'clock at night,
when we reached our anxiously-sought wood,
built a fire, scraped away the snow for a couch,
and slept, as only travelers under such circum-
stances can sleep.

Now comes the question, and it is one which
has bothered me for twenty-four years — how did
the Indian avoid losing his way ? Why was he
confident that he was going directly to his place
of destination ? My sergeant, an old woodsman,
and myself, had made use of all our experience,
judgment, and intellects, to keep in the right di-
rection, but had failed — had wandered no one
can tell where ; and yet this child of the forest,
without a trail, in a dark night — without a moon,
star, or wind to guide him, and quite ten miles
from the wood — had never for a moment doubt-
ed that he was in the right direction ; in short,
knew that he was ; and the result demonstrated
his knowledge ! Whence came this knowledge ?
Was it instinct? or was he indebted for his
knowledge and safety, to his keener sense of
smelling ?

You once said to me, that a critical examina-
tion of Indian skulls had led a friend to believe,
that the orifice through which the olfactory
nerve passes, is larger than in the white man ;

XXVI DEDICATION.

that the eye is set differently, so that he may see
farther behind him than civilized man ; and that
the passage for admitting sound into the head is
larger. If this be so, the secret of my Indian's
knowledge is at once developed ; and we can not
but be struck by the wonderful and inscrutable
provisions of a kind Providence for all his crea-
tures, in whatever condition in life they may be
placed. That man in a civilized state does not
require so perfect a use of all his senses as in a
state of nature, is very evident ; and although the
Almighty may have formed us all alike, it is not
impossible that civilized man has lost — because,
in his artificial state, no longer necessary for his
safety — much of his delicacy of smell, power of
vision, and acuteness of hearing ; while the In-
dian, dependant upon those senses for safety and
subsistence, has not only retained them in all
their original perfection, but by constant exer-
cise, increased their powers beyond our com-
prehension of what is possible. Such at least,
is the theory I have adopted to explain the inci-
dent related.

In regard to the result of my expedition, I
ought to add, that most providentially, we reach-
ed Fort Armstrong without meeting with an In-
dian, or approaching sufficiently near to one to

DEDICATION. XXVII

be recognized as whites, although we passed for
miles (unconsciously) through woods filled with
them, and were informed, on reaching the fort,
that for some weeks the main land had not been
visited unless accompanied by a strong guard.
My dispatches were forwarded to the Falls of
St. Anthony by soldiers, who traveled all the
way on the frozen Mississippi ; and fortunately,
when they were received, a number of Sioux
chiefs were about the garrison. They were im-
mediately placed in the guard-house, and others
sent for and served in like manner ; and none
of them were released until after the opening of
spring, and satisfactory proofs that the proposed
rising had been finally abandoned, as equally
dangerous and hopeless.

I had intended to imbody in this hasty dedica-
tion a variety of interesting anecdotes of our In-
dians, which, in my judgment, would tend to give
a more correct opinion of the leading character-
istics of the race ; but unfortunately, or perhaps
fortunately for the reader, I reserved for this pur-
pose but twenty-two pages. They are already
consumed in the incidents I have related, so much
longer than I intended they should be, and which
I have neither time nor inclination to make shorter
by re-writing ; and in the mean time the book is

XXV111 DEDICATION.

printed, and only waits my filling up the allotted
pages, to be thrown before the public. I may
not therefore, trespass further upon the reader,
because it would also be trespassing upon my
friendly and much-esteemed publishers ; and I
must content myself with a promise, made with
due reservations, that at some future time I will
write a book, instead of a mere dedication, on this
very interesting subject. The truth is, limited as
is the space I have reserved to myself, other avo-
cations have induced me to delay occupying it,
until the cry of " haste" is gently whispered in my
ear ; and what I have written, comes before the
public after the fashion of an every-day edito-
rial in the Courier and Enquirer.

That this tale of Indian life, may meet your ap-
probation, is my earnest wish ; not only because
I shall then be proud of having paid you an ac-
ceptable tribute of friendship, but because such
approval, will be a guarantee to the public that
it is faithful to nature and learned in woodcraft ;
in which case I venture to promise another edi-
tion, with the beautiful illustrations, sketched
from nature, which, but for the untimely death
of our friend Inman, would have rendered these
volumes far more attractive.

Believe me, ray dear sir, with sentiments of

DEDICATION. XXIX

respect and esteem, not only an admirer of your
numerous literary productions, but

Your sincere friend,

J. Watson Webb.
New York, July, 1846.

ALTOWAN.

CHAPTER I.

On an evening near the close of April, 183-,
a boat having the appearance of a man-of-war's
gig, under the care of a single seaman, was dan-
cing on the gentle swell that agitated the waters
of New York Bay, where the Castle, as it is called,
rears its shapeless mass. The trees on the ad-
joining promenade,' known as the Battery, and so
called, probably, from the military work alluded
to, already indicated the presence of spring, which
has charms in that land that are found nowhere
else. The moon had risen ; and, being on the
south of the Castle, the boat already mentioned,
was easily visible to any one who might look
over the rail that bounds the promenade. Two
or three sailors seemed lounging in different di-
rections ; and stretched upon one of the stone
seats, there lay a man who was, or seemed to be,
weary or asleep. His repose, however, was now
Vol. I.— C

26 A L T O W A N.

in some degree interrupted by the appearance of
a person whose dress was that of a sailor. His
air, somewhat ruffled, might indicate to an accu-
rate observer that he had a will of his own, and
that it had been in some degree thwarted. A
free step, an elevated port, and an impatient ges-
ture, were all signs that he did not pull the labor-
ing oar in the boat, to which, from his dress, he
seemed to belong ; and having discovered where
she lay, and hailed her, a small whistle brought
from various directions eight or ten of her crew.
In a few minutes the gig was under way across
the bay ; the youth before alluded to, lying list-
lessly in the stern sheets ; and the sleeper of the
shore, after a moment's survey of the surround-
ing scene, taking his way up Broadway. Nu-
merous vessels, of all sizes, were anchored in va-
rious parts of the bay ; and one United States
frigate, whose tall masts invaded the blue sky,
lay in stern repose, as if mistress of an anchor-
age where the Navies of the world might ride in
safety. The boat held on her way until a hail
from a vessel not far off, broke a silence which
seemed natural to the crew, and in keeping with
the scene. The vessel, the side of which the
youth we have alluded to, was now mounting,
was a large corvette, well armed, and of beauti-

A I. TO WAN. 27

ful symmetry. The appearance upon deck of
her crew and one or two of the officers, gave to-
ken of some interest felt for the return of the
boat ; and the salute which the new-comer paid
to the deck on coming aboard, was respectfully
returned, while one or two approached him as
if expecting news. All conversation was, how-
ever, checked by a gesture on the part of a per-
son who had just appeared on deck, pointing to
the stair leading to the after cabin. For some
time previous, that cabin had been paced with an
air of impatience, by a man of middle height and
imposing mien — his countenance wearing the ap-
pearance more of care than of age. The knowl-
edge that the boat was alongside, had effaced all
signs of any interest he might have felt in what
was going on ; and when an attendant appeared,
he was found seated on one of the ottomans,
whose crimson cushions upon every side of the
apartment, invited repose. The youth, who was
now ushered into the cabin, did not appear to be
more than nineteen years of age. His hair was
light brown, and being worn in profusion, threw
a shade over his pale, but noble features ; his
eyes were large, and of that deep blue which in
many lights, appears jet black ; their long eye-
lashes and arched eyebrows, were darker than

g8 A LTD WAN.

the curls that he pushed aside as he sat down
and regarded his father. His form, which a
light tight jacket exhibited to exactness, was not
remarkable for its breadth ; but the large white
wrist, thick, though narrow hand, and long fin-
gers, gave indication of a strength which the
slight, but beautiful proportions of the figure, did
not lead the beholder to expect. The conversa-
tion was long ; and appeared to be a series of in-
structions on the part of the senior, only inter-
rupted by questions for explanations on the part
of the younger. They were given in a low and
calm tone ; but he who listened to them, well
knew that a spirit like a volcano lurked beneath,
and the interest thrown into his countenance or
really felt, was strongly contrasted with the lan-
guid indifference with which those instructions
were . given. A Greek slave supplied a pipe,
which occasioned a break and hesitation in his
speech, and the derangement of a cushion gave
an uneasiness which it was difficult to account
for ; but though thus checked, there was a low
intonation in his words which the hearer noted
well.

The conference, like all others, had its end ;
the elder rose, and in the embrace which he gave
his son there was nothing wanting in the forms,

ALTOWAN. 29

at least, of fond affection. A brief greeting and
some few directions, were all that passed on the
deck between the loiterers there and him who
now hurried again over the evening wave. The
backs of the rowers bent, the light glanced from
the oar-blades, and the well-fitted row-lock hard-
ly marked the sound of their strokes. But an-
other had been added to the boat's freight, who
sat unmoved and unmoving beside the first.
The snows of thirty winters might have passed
over a head on whose front nothing seemed long
to make impression, and whose prevailing expres-
sion partook equally of stupidity and care. A fig-
ure tending to obesity, gave token of considera-
ble strength ; and a constrained position was but
little in keeping with the silent ease with which
the graceful little vessel glided over the bay.
Instead of landing under the wall, where she had
two hours previously been moored, her course
was considerably altered to the right. The city,
with its tall spires, and at this point surrounded
with masts, lay before, — the Battery promenade,
forming the terminus of a narrow isle on which
it is built, rising as if spontaneously from the
sea, its shadows deepened in the waters, and nu-
merous lights prolonged upon the waves. Hav-
ing rounded the custom-house station, and two

30 ALTO WAN.

or three wooden wharves, the boat was brought
to at a landing, and the youth and his less active
companion, leaped up on the quay. For one mo-
ment he turned and hesitated in answer to the
upturned look that was thrown on him by the
crew. It was one of sadness and of silent fare-
well to him whom they seemed conscious they
were about to lose. The youth's hesitation was
but momentary ; and his companion, who, cal-
culating on his general rate of movement, had
considered it well to lay out his best speed,
was easily overtaken without having remarked
the delay. The street up which these two pur-
sued their way, running at right angles to Broad-
way, was neither long nor steep ; but there had
been a shorter and more agreeable route round
the Battery, had they landed at one of the
wharves below. On gaining the main street,
they were met, however, by one of their own
crew, accompanied by a man who seemed to
point out the way. After a momentary pause,
the guide had disappeared, and the boy stood
embarrassed before his scarcely older superior.
A few words explained that the wishes of this
boy had led him to follow, and they seemed to
meet with but slight opposition. In such a situ-
ation let us leave them, and move to another, and
a distant scene.

ALTOWAN. 31

CHAPTER II.

It was on the western side of that range, em-
phatically called the Rocky Mountains, that two
men might have been seen, between Jackson's
Hole, which discharges its waters into the Co-
lumbia, and the Susquadee, which flows into the
Gulf of California. They had descended from
the mountain to the lower prairie, through which
the latter river flows, and were cautiously skirt-
ing, or rather, keeping out of gun-shot of the low
thickets of willow that marked the course of the
stream. Two horses, one led by each, without
saddles, were their only companions ; and, save
when the prairie cock (a large species of grouse,
of a pepper-and-salt colour, and long, pointed
tail), from which the river takes its Indian name,
rose at their feet, there was nothing to interrupt
the stillness of the scene. The evening was fad-
ing ; and the universal calm, the open solitude
around, the gigantic range of mountains in front
— might have furnished for the poet and the
painter, admirable subjects for their finest pro-
ductions. An indefinite, but not insensible awe,

32 A L T O W A N -

creeps over one whose uncertain way lies
through these dreary wastes ; and although the
ever-present dangers of these regions, may con-
fine his thoughts to the immediate objects around,
there is yet a strong impulse felt to wander still
farther, and to plunge still deeper into the un-
known wilds of these Western woods.

The travelers had musingly advanced toward
a point where the river approaches some heights,
and where a few larger cotton-wood trees mark,
if they do not adorn, its course. The heights are
upon its left bank, and consequently on the left
of our travelers ; and the plain extends to an-
other creek, as it is called, on the right, which,
on its part, bounds the flat over which we are
advancing. Having stopped for a momentary
contemplation of the scene, the two turned their
horses short to the left, and gained the stream
where it has but a slight fringe of brushwood,
and where they might enter behind the larger
mass which spreads below. The sun had well-
nigh sunk below the horizon, and its lingering
rays ruddied the snows on the Mountains of the
Wind, as this part of the range is called, which,
for a distance of sixty miles, extends its fantastic
peaks toward the skies. Having carefully noted
the sandy paths which intersect the sage-bush-

ALTO WAX, 33

es.* to discover any marks of man or animal
which might interest them, the river bank was
gained, and a pause ensued, in which there ap-
peared a doubt whether to cross the rapid stream
or to prolong their way down its bank. The
latter course was determined upon ; and they
entered the thicket, which extended in various
branches, where parts of the water had once
flowed, leaving spaces of green turf between,
marked by the camps of whites, as was indicated
by the withered boughs which had formed their
huts, and the shreds of cloth which the grass had
not yet overgrown. Guiding their course by
these slews, as they are called, they again touch-
ed upon the river bank, where willows of a larger
growth, interspersed with cotton-wood, choked
up the way, and together with the fallen timber
which encumbered the ground, rendered it a mat-
ter of difficulty to proceed. Notwithstanding
the care with which their route had been exam-
ined since entering the thickets, nothing had been
discovered to arrest or accelerate their move-
ments ; and the deepening shadows and the
wants of their animals, determined therefore,
their halting at the lower point of a small semi-

* A low aromatic shrub, Herbe de Zacintke, according to
the Canadians.

34 ALTO WAN.

circular opening, which began and ended at the
river bank, furnishing at once both grass and a
shelter. Silently the saddles were laid aside,
and a few dried sticks hastily gathered. The
fire, before which were placed for cooking, two
buffalo tongues and a piece of meat stuck on
small sticks, began to crackle, and the thoughts
of the party were soon directed into other chan-
nels. One of the two had swam the stream to
gain a view of what lay around from the oppo-
site side ; and the other, with head depressed and
in a meditative posture, sat swinging sadly to and
fro, as if keeping time to some unuttered tune,
with his legs crossed in the Indian fashion, and
his elbows resting on them, and supporting his
head, until roused by his companion's return.
This youth, for youth he was in years though
not in size, appeared, from his speech, to be of
Canadian origin ; his dress might have been In-
dian, but his eye w r as of a clear hazel, and his
hair, very thick and very long, being of a glossy
auburn, which caught from the rays of light that
played upon it, a golden tinge ; his stature was
above the middling height ; his figure appeared
to advantage in the tight leggins with fringes
and the leather shirt of red. The head was bare,
and a small leather band confined the waist, and

ALTO WAN. 35

held the scalping-knife ; a long rifle was in his
hand, and an arrow case and bow, were laid
by the saddle. " There are no buffalo in the
plain ; they have gone out .from water." This
sentence, though not unheeded, remained unan-
swered ; but the glance of him to whom it was
addressed, was bent calmly on the other, with a
look of confidence, and almost affection. " There
are bands going out from Horse Creek, and from
the river where it cuts the bluffs below." "By
the Mad Wolf's camp ?" rejoined his companion.
" I could not see so far," was the reply. " There
is but little light by which to look about these
thickets for signs to-night, but I should like to be
satisfied that Parfin had not been here." This
was muttered half in revery, as he rose and
strode toward a road the buffalo had made in
the willows, worn to a deep trench, and the
bushes coated on either side with their wool.
By occasional stooping, this might be followed
with ease, and any footstep since trodden by
them, would have left its trace. The path led
out of the thicket to the foot of a bank, the top
of which is the general level of the plain ; and
on the angle where it comes in upon the low
willows, were the ruins of a fort built by whites,
and a trading-house, still used when they ren-

36 ALTOWA^-

dezvoused in these parts. The paths appeared
— for the trails all centered here — to be free from
the print of human or horses' feet, and no sign
was stuck upon the dilapidated ruin or the re-
maining picket of the fort.

After this survey was made, there was nothing
left unexamined in the surrounding camping
ground that could be construed into signal or
mark ; and as the darkness gathered deeper
around, the fire discovered the two buried in
thought — passing the pipe with slight interchange
of those ideas with which civilized whites would
have solaced so solitary an hour. " These are old
pickets," observed the darker of the two, as he
glanced toward the horses ; " there is no occa-
sion to tie until they wander or we lie down."
" I'll see to that," answered the other ; " eat — "
holding the upright spit, the end of which he
planted in the ground between them. They both
cut off and ate as they liked, supplying the place
of one tongue by the other. After wiping their
knives, a few puffs of tobacco closed this inform-
al repast ; the fire was extinguished, and the sad-
dles and appichimoes* laid down for a bed. The
horses were now tied by one of the travelers,

* A piece of buffalo far generally long enough to sleep on,
worn folded under the saddle.

ALTOWA S. 37

while the other had thrown himself on his rude
couch and abandoned himself to sleep. The op-
eration of "tying up," however, had hardly been
finished, when they were startled by the loud
snort of one of the horses nearest the river,
" Pinatsi !" " It is but a wolf," was the answer.
" I know not," rejoined the first, " but he is so full
of strange ways that it may be him lurking about
us. It is now the eighth of June ; he had time, and
I know must be hereabout ; he had better mind*
as I am apt to shoot when scared at night," was
the reply. They had both lain down — the dark-
er almost forcibly laid the head of Pinatsi on the
saddle, who struggled, but finding his long hair
held there, suffered himself to be confined to his
pillow until sleep took from him all desire to
move. The other gazed long upon him with a
look in which there was a strange mixture of
kindness and doubt. The morning dawn found
them quietly asleep, and the saddling and start
were performed without incident. Emerging
from the thicket and gaining the level of the
plain, their trail lay at some little distance from
the river ; and the view of these mountains cov-
ered with perpetual snow — save where their con-
cave sides and pinnacled tops refuse a space for
it to lie — was again before them ; and the dusty
Vol. I.— D

38 ALTO WAN.

paths — for in this region there is no dew — bore no
imprint but that of the buffalo and the wolf.
At about two miles below where they slept there
is a ford, which their horses crossed with some
difficulty. The bluffs a little farther down, turn
the course of the Susquadee, which had hitherto
been easterly, toward the south ; and these bluffs
crossed, you fall upon another stream, called
" Piny Branch of New Fork." This is a rapid
mountain torrent coming from a lake, and the
scattered pine trees which fringe its branches give
sanction to the name. At a point near where this
piny border ends, upon its banks, perhaps two
miles from its entering the plain, the travelers
again halted, though the sun was not an hour
high ; and having loosed their horses with trail
ropes, suffered them to feed on the abundant
grass which the borders of the stream afforded.
"We are safe here, and out of sight if we keep
within the brush," said the older, breaking silence.
His companion, however, was more intent on a
herd of buffalo ; and had caught up the horse he
had hitherto led, which was of that spotted color
they call Cai. He fixed a cord in his mouth, and
taking his rifle in his hand, was about to bound on
his steed, when, at the suggestion of his compan-
ion, he changed his weapon for the quiver and

A L T O W A N. 39

bow which lay near, and was out of sight in a
few moments.

There are some gentle swells on the other side
of the Cedar Fork, opposite that by which they
had arrived ; and the hunter had not far to go be-
fore he fell in with the herd of buffalo which he
had seen in crossing the ridge between the Sus-
quadee and the stream he had just left. Having
rounded a little height, he was enabled to ap-
proach very near the band ; and before they were
aware, was almost in their midst. It is a matter of
some difficulty, at this season, to find a fat cow ; and
the rider has to choose quickly or tire his horse ;
Pinatsi had from his earliest days, been a buffalo
runner ; and the eye of youth was also an eye of
experience. His horse had carried him into the
crowd ; and before they had separated, a deadly
arrow was planted in the side of a cow, which,
separating herself from the rest, staggered and
fell. The skinning and taking what meat was
wanted for two, was not a long, as it is never a
safe operation ; because a man is then confined to
a single spot, and can be approached by a hostile
Indian without danger. He had tied what was
wanted upon his horse over two branches of sage,
which prevented the cord pressing on the back
bone, when he perceived a dog of an Indian

40 ALTOWAK.

breed, which the hurry of butchering and its re-
semblance to a wolf, had prevented him from be-
fore remarking. These animals are scarcely
ever familiar even in the lodge in which they
live, and have a peculiar dislike to a white man.
It was, therefore, somewhat singular, that this
one should not have kept aloof until the coast was
clear. Pinatsi remarked one or two places in
which his hair had been singed, which showed a
recent contact with the habits of the human race.
This incident did not retard his progress, as it
gave intimation of the recent proximity of some
party to which this dog might have belonged.

On returning to the spot where he had left his
companion, he found his own horse gone, with
that of the other, and a stick stuck in the ground
bent over in a direction up the creek. This he
threw down, and striking into the thicket, pur-
sued his way up a slew where no trail could be
left, and where, in many places, the willows are
so thick as to require the strength of a horse to
force a passage. Getting thence upon a grassy
glade, he proceeded with more speed ; and it
was not long before he saw a horse where the
first range of rough Butes, lays a foundation for
the stupendous structure above. Through this
first step of the mountain, the blue waters of the

ALTOWAN. 41

neighboring lake force a tumultuous course over
vast masses of granite, forming for upward of
half a mile one continued cataract. At the foot of
this, where the waters enter the plain, shaded by
the pine and the birch, is a small open spot, where
the remains of some Indian forts might still be
taken advantage of, for shelter or defense. By
the waters, the horses grazing within the shade,
sat Pinatsi's former companion and another per-
son, in deep and earnest conversation. Parfin —
for it was he of whom they spoke the night be-
fore—sprung first to his feet upon Pinatsi's ap-
pearance. He had more the air of an Indian
than the other two. The meat first attracted his
attention. After the salute — which the pale face
had taught the children of the wilds — had passed
between him and the hunter, " I have not eaten
since yesterday at sun up," said he to Pinatsi.
" We have dry wood enough, and the fattest cow
of the year." They were not long in setting the
cooking in order ; and the fresh green, the shade,
the clear pool, and the distant roar of the cata-
ract, had an effect at once refreshing and tran-
quilizing. " You are long from the village, Al-
to wan ?" said Parfin. " Eight days from sun to
sun, though I can't say we have traveled fast.
Where do you suppose they are now ?" " Prob-

ALTOWAN.

ably on some of the forks of the Maria. There
are war parties out from the Little Robe and the
Payans ; the Crows are, I hear, down on Tongue
River, and the Snakes are over on the Wintey.
Unless there may be some diggers in the mount-
ain above, or a war party lying by, we are alone
in all this range." " I have seen a dog ; but he
may belong to some Chochocois ,"* rejoined Pi-
natsi. There was now a pause, which was bro-
ken by the rising of Altowan. He stepped out
to the open,f and, after a survey, came back.
" I must see him, and learn what he wants.
There are many whites to the north, and he may
have come from some of these, to see where
their rendezvous is to be held. We will act ac-
cording to circumstances, and he need not know
me. I am somewhat changed since we parted
on the Arno, eight years ago !" At this moment,
through an open that showed them the cotej
above, they discovered two buffalo bulls, and
heard the report of a gun just as the bulls came
tearing down among the huge blocks with which

* Snake Indians, who live on roots, as distinguished from
those who hunt the buffalo.

t All openings or natural clearings are called "opens" by
the half-breeds of the Indian country.

t Small hills. French terms are become vernacular, in
many instances, among the trappers.

ALTOWAN. 43

the hill-side is covered. They sprung to their
horses ; and collecting them, Altowan made a sign
to the others to stand close, while he, with swift
and stealthy pace, gained the spot where they
must descend to the stream. This was the work
of a moment. The struggle for life was still kept
up, and the animal, dangerous from his state of
excitement, and desperate from growing weak-
ness and pain, stood at bay against a mass of
granite, which formed almost an alcove. He
turned his heavy front and bloodshot eye toward
his pursuer. " Shoot well forward," cried Alto-
wan, as the hunter's gun was raised. Whether
this was the first intimation of his proximity, or
that any voice at such a moment might unsteady
the aim, it is hard to say ; but the shot was de-
livered, and struck on the top of the shoulder —
the horse still in motion down the steep. The
bull sprung at the sound ; and the rider, unable
to turn, came in a course at right angles to his.
Raising the empty fowling-piece, he made an ef-
fort to intimidate his wounded antagonist ; but
death alone can arrest the attack of a bull who
finds himself dying and within reach of his mor-
tal foe. The lowered head, the bloody tongue,
which the hunter generally avoids — could be
hardly remarked, so sudden was the speedy de-

44 A L T O W A N.

scent of both. But the attempt at intimidation
marked the momentary sense of the hunter to his
danger. The steed bounded, but too short, and
the horn of his adversary had already torn open
his bowels ; and of the three, the hunter alone
arose unhurt. It had been the bull's last effort ;
and he who had a moment before bestrode one
of the best horses of the plains, now stood steed-
less, with an empty gun, and a stranger before
him, with a loaded rifle in his hand. For a mo-
ment there was an apparent embarrassment in
the manner of the hunter ; but it was only for a
moment. " You may be a half-breed, and can
understand me ; if not — " " I am," interrupted
the other. " I regret your mishap ; I only wish
I could restore your horse, and assure you of any
aid I can render," said Altowan. This was said
in a tone in which there was nothing to be re-
marked but self-possession. The features of him
who spoke partook not of the feelings of kind-
ness which his words imported ; and as the two
stood gazing upon each other, they presented a
strange contrast : the one, of lofty stature and
noble proportions, with features of perfect regu-
larity, and eyes in which there was much of that
melancholy which creates an interest in the be-
holder, were there naught else to notice ; but

ALTO WAN. 45

here the case was different — the dress, the long
black hair, the manner, combined with the sud-
denness of the contact to inspire surprise and
wonder in the hunter ; while the other saw a
youth, in appearance such as he might expect to
see among the whites who yearly assemble in
these groves. While of surpassing beauty, and
of address at once graceful and proud, in no part
of the world is self-possession a more general
characteristic than among the wild Indians of
these mountains ; the nearest approach to which
is in the cold and supercilious courtier of Eng-
land, although the savage is far superior in manly
dignity. Here you might suppose the two class-
es were represented ; and the bearing of both
was such as if neither w T ould yield to the other,
even in a glance. A sudden cracking of the
branches behind, however, arrested the attention
of both, and they turned their looks upon the in-
truder. This was no other than Parfm, who had
hastened to the scene as soon as the horses were
safe. The looks of the two young men were
again bent on each other, when he came in sight ;
and when drawn upon himself, he was enabled
to command their attention ; for he knew both,
and better than they knew themselves. " A good
bull," he said : " but we need him not ; we have

46 ALTOWAN.

cow meat already cooked, if this affair has not
spoiled the roasts. Have you seen no cows?"
said he, addressing himself to the young man,
who was now reloading his gun. The other re-
garded him steadily a moment, as if to try to
recognize something he knew before. " I have
seen some bands below, but having seen also
some Indian signs, I followed them up toward
the mountain, and coming across this bull, I
thought to kill him, as I was not sure of my
gun." " Are your band far off?" " Half a day's
ride. I left them this morning before sun-up."
" Take the tongue, then, and let us to the fire,"
said Altowan, as he motioned toward the thicket.
Parfin also arose, and following on, they all sat
down, while the pipe, the emblem of peace, was
produced, and its silent rounds precluded farther
conversation. The thoughts of all three might
be occupied with each other ; but the habits of
the Indian and the hunter of these parts, are not
those of sudden and free communication. At
last the young man whom we have just introdu-
ced to the reader's notice, broke this silence, by
asking if any Indians were expected to the ren-
dezvous of the whites. " Some of the friendly
tribes, and a camp of the Snakes, perhaps," was
the reply. " Any of the Northwest ?" he asked

A L T O W A N 47

again. " There may be, but the time is yet far
off." The roasts had been delivered from the
fire, and the occupation of eating was sufficient
to conceal the shade of care that might have
been observed on the countenance of the in-
quirer.

The meal was from the best part of the best
meat in the world ; that is, we hold it so. It was
from that part of the fleece that stretches below
the shoulder-blade — tender and juicy. It must
be understood that the fleece is that part of the
meat that lies along the backbone and across the
ribs, and fills up the space between. The charms
of the best dinner must have their end in satiety ;
so had this, and the pause gave to Roallan — for so
the stranger was called — an opportunity of ask-
ing if there was any thing with which he could
furnish the others, and if they would visit his
camp. There seemed to be some hesitation, but
it was decided, that having looked after the trail
which they expected to find toward the lake,
they would rejoin Roallan at his camp at sun-
down ; in the mean time furnishing a horse for
his conveyance thither. These arrangements
were made entirely by Altowan ; and the three
might have been seen again winding their way
upward along the bank of that rapid stream,

48 A L T O VV A N.

while the other pursued his solitary course in an
opposite direction down into the plain. The track
that led up the stream toward the mountains,
whose lofty range rose immediately above, was
one seldom trodden by man ; and as yet there
appeared no mark to indicate that any late intru-
sion had taken place on these solitary wilds.
The ospray was, as usual, hovering near for his
finny prey ; the eagle might be seen soaring aloft,
and the wolf stealing through the sage in search
of the young antelope ; but the hoarse raven was
not there with his ominous voice, noting the pres-
ence of recent blood and waste, which generally
follow the hunter's track, and invite the bear and
vulture to follow in his wake. All was tranquil ;
and the animals of the wilds seemed to have con-
fidence in man — so little did they know of him in
the deep glen and lofty table-ground which the
ever-changing forms of the range presented on
their upward course. They had now gained a
plain of some extent, from the edge of which,
u The Blue Lake" might be seen below, hiding
its head in a deep and dark mass of shrubbery.
Another, to the eastward, under the shade of a
mountain of dark pine, lay equally blue and calm;
but in the openings that Nature has left in these
forest scenes to vary the most beautiful land-

ALTO WAN. 49

scapes in the world, there were no buffalo, and
the eye of Altowan at once marked the fact.
The plain on which they stood, was not large ;
and the surrounding pines and quaking ash, form-
ed promontories and bays along its sides. Tak-
ing their course to the left, their route cut through
several of these points. In one spot the pine
leaves were somewhat deranged ; and a close
examination showed a human track of no ancient
date. " Here it is," exclaimed Altowan, as he
looked back ; " the stranger had seen it plainer
in the dust of the prairie, or we would have been
with him now. There is water at the head of
this glade, and in the bosom of that cote before
us is, an opening where there is both grass and
concealment. We may find them there ; but
they should have been on the look-out, and ought
to have seen us. Ha ! mark !" A small curl of
smoke rose from a peak in front, or rather, to their
right. " Keep within the skirt of the wood," he
said, as he advanced at an increased pace, which
the thinness of the trees now permitted. They
had advanced a few yards and crossed a height
where the pines — broad and spreading as they
are in spots where they are not too crowded —
allowed air for a green turf to grow around
them ; when, descending a small slope, they came
Vol. I.— E

50 ALTO WAN.

at once in sight of several horses and some In-
dians seated round a small fire. Their guns were
fired off as a signal of confidence on coming in
sight ; and the other party were hardly aware of
their approach before they were quietly seated
together and their horses let loose. The recog-
nition between the Indians and those who had
just arrived, was such as proved a good under-
standing, without any show of feeling on either
side. The usual pipe was handed, and it had
hardly gone round, when the remainder of the
party came in from the direction in which they
had previously seen the signal smoke.

One of the party who now appeared, who seem-
ed, from his air, to have the command of the rest,
after some moments rose and walked up to the
horses of Altowan, where the latter joined him.
Their discourse seemed to be of some particular
interest to both ; and while it is going on, we
may attempt to describe those whom we have
found thus perched, as it were, in air, and hiding
in that land over which nature seemed to have
given them dominion. The men were far above
the standard of whites in height ; perfect in pro-
portion, and full in muscle. The arm alone, less
used to labor, was slighter than the other limbs,
though still of sufficient thickness to give the ap-

ALTO WAN. 51

pearance of strength as well as beauty. The
chest prominent, the head erect, and the eye el-
evated — the best models of Greek sculpture had
sprung into life in these wilds ; and nobleness of
expression, freedom of action, and grace of atti-
tude, could be marked in every part of that sav-
age group. They had "the Mountains of the
Wind" above their heads, and th£ sources of the
mightiest rivers of the West lay at their feet ;
their own energies of character, seemed to com-
mand the elements of which they were the em-
blems ; and their uncontrolled freedom of motion,
spoke a language more convincing than the stat-
utes of a hundred republics. They were of a
tribe who knew no master, and obeyed no law ;
chiefs — hereditary if worthy, or elected — held
over them an authority real only as it was support-
ed by courage and wisdom ; and the ambition of
emulation, bound the warriors and the youths to
their command. It was a war party of the great-
esttof those tribes which inhabit the mountains
of the West, and live on the spoils of the chase,
that was now before them. The blanket and the
buffalo robe, were their covering ; the moccasons
had been thrown off, and the body was otherwise
naked but for the braie round the loins. They
were all armed with guns obtained in trade with

52 ALTOWAN.

the Hudson's Bay Company ; but the proportion
of horses seemed small to the number of men, of
whom there were about twenty. There was a
tripod,* on which was hung the skin of a white
bison, a bow and quiver ornamented with the
plumes of the war eagle, and the medicine pipe.
Altowan and the Indian partisan, had now ap-
proached, and^heir conversation had apparently
merged into minor details. "Old Montalt," he
said, still speaking the Blackfoot language, "is
out with the Flatheads, and will be in to trade
with the whites next moon. Nothing of theirs
has been touched, but their running horses and
his long-haired daughter. It was hard upon the
young men." A strange change came over the
countenance of Altowan, as he listened to this
remark — partly uttered as the speaker was in
the act of sitting down, as if it was not fully in-
tended to be heard so as to elicit a reply. But
that reply came : " She and hers are mine. Of
all the horns, and booty, and prisoners, have I
taken none ? and what have I kept V If this re-
sponse did not convince, it silenced. The kind-
ling look was quenched, and the sedate manner
of Indian deliberation resumed its place. " Of
the camp below you have to learn," Altowan pro-
* Tripod, composed of three poles.

ALTO WAN. 53

ceeded : " they are rich, and you may trade well ;
their chief is new from the country of the whites,
and his heart is big ; he is too strong to be taken ;
he is from your hunting grounds, and you may
get more by good- will than by blows." " We
are willing," said the Elkshead, for so this parti-
san was called ; " I will speak to the young men."
Retiring to the side of the small stream, that would
fain have hid its pure course beneath its verdant
banks, Altowan disembarrassed himself of such of
his attire as did not suit the character of the part
he was about to enact. The party whom he had
thus met were all painted black, as is usual with
warriors on these excursions ; but the example of
Altowan was soon followed in dress as well as
other things ; so that the band lost much of that
uncouth appearance which they wore at first.
And having previously secured a good number of
buffalo horses from a party of the Hudson Bay
trappers, they mounted a considerable number of
hunters ; and the order of the day seemed now
changed from war to the chase. The few clothes
of Altowan and some extra baggage, were given
in charge to a handsome youth, who was attach-
ed to the service of the rest. Having refused to
take part in the warlike feats of the men, he had
previously been consigned, under the name of

54 ALTO WAN.

Broadashe, to the society, the duties, and the
dress of the women. There are youths of this
description in every camp, resembling in office
the eunuchs of the seraglio. Enjoying the favor
of the partisan, Broadashe was a follower, togeth-
er with two squaws, of this band. The women
had the appearance ot the men, except in dress
and slenderness of form, and a certain softness of
feature. There was, however, a stiff and wad-
dling gait discoverable in their motions — the
fruits of severe labor, and of early subjection to
the will of the men. Of the two women, one
was of large proportions and height, but of a
pleasing and good-natured expression. She was
an Aurickara, and had been taken prisoner. The
other was a Flathead of smaller size, and some
delicacy of feature. They had both been taken
in the same affair, together with the horses, and
appeared in nowise depressed by their change of
situation — their charms being sufficient protec-
tion, when, as in this instance, there had been no
loss of life in the capture.

The scene was now about to be changed.
Two or three had gone ahead ; and the remain-
der, with Altowan and his companion, came to-
gether. Their way in descending led them over
stony and precipitous ridges, to the waters of an-

ALTOWAN 55

other stream, issuing from a lake they were leav-
ing to their left. Their course lay to the south-
east, to avoid a mountain that raised its dark
shadow between that lake and the mid-day sun.
Below, the plain was marked out by the wooded
borders of five small rivers, at 'inconsiderable
distances apart ; between which, the undulating
prairie, stretching as far as the eye can reach,
feeds many bands of buffalo, who are seldom dis-
turbed until the congregating of whites, in July,
to this chosen point of meeting. The heat of the
day — for it was high noon — was great, and the
half-naked state of the Indian hunters was well
suited to the mildness of the atmosphere. The
long hair floating about, as raised by the motion
of the rider ; and the horse-tails dangling, and the
dust, and the occasional shout ; the flashing of the
bright gun-barrels in the sun, and the fierce bear-
ing of those who carried them — combined to form
a subject alike for the painter and the moralist.
In the rear of this band, and at some little dis-
tance, came those on foot ; and with them the
Broadashe, the women, and a loaded horse. A
little to one side rode Altowan, by whom was
Pinatsi ; Parfin was with the partisan. " I must
trust to him," said Altowan to his companion;
" he has no interested motives — at least, ought to

56 ALTO WAN.

have none — and he alone can explain matters.
He must go on." " Oh, Altowan !" — and it was
seldom he addressed him by name — " ever since
I knew what it was to care for any one, I have
loved you, and with no ordinary love ; and I be-
lieve it makes me clearer-sighted to all that bodes
you ill. There are many would pluck the eagle
from his lofty place." The other laid his hand
on the youth's arm, as he said, " I believe it, I
believe it ; but there is a desire still lambent here,
to take my place whence I have been driven, Pi-
natsi, in scenes you dream not of; and he alone
can, at present, prepare the way." During this
short conference, they had approached the sub-
ject of their conversation, and at a signal, Parfin
was soon at the side of Altowan. " You must
precede me to the camp," said the latter, " and
see how matters stand." " I would rather be in-
formed, first, who you mean to be there — wheth-
er white, or half-breed, or Indian chief?" said the
other, with a slight smile. " I would be what I
am, Parfin, to him, and let the rest happen as it
may." "Would you then, without knowing him,
put all this power into the hands of one who is
the natural enemy of your rights ? Let him pro-
claim you, if he will, a land pirate, a murderer,
a horse thief! That will suit well with those whose

ALTOWAN. 57

fear you would be, and than whom, you are al-
ready greater, richer, freer, as you are. Think
again ! I tell you plainly, I do not want to»lose
you here ; but do not let that impeach what ]
have said." The bound of Altowan's horse, oc-
casioned by a rattlesnake's spring, woke up the
slumbering spirit of the mountain in his breast.
" Do then as you will ; but let me know how I must
be taken ; the sun will not be across the Susqua-
dee before we are in the camp." Parfin yielded
but a moment to his already impatient horse, and
was in a gallop, and soon lost among the small
butes that lay in his course, crossed a stream
that issued from the second lake, and, ascending
the opposite bank, passed over a comparatively
smooth country, where the buffalo were congre-
gating to the water-courses, and considerable
flocks of antelope were seen scouring the plain,
in their winding and unmeaning course. Occa-
sionally one, yielding to a curiosity natural, but
often fatal to the race, would come up within
twenty yards. Parfin heeded them not. A fresh
track of a bear for a moment checked him ; it
entered the thicket of willows that hides a creek ;
the rein was again slackened, and he held his
onward way.

There is something animating in a gallop, even

58 ALTO WAN.

to the confined citizen, who bolds on by the mane
of a Sunday, and disputes the way with every
pebble in Rotton Row. It is animating, on the
foggy shores of England, to ride along the briny
beach, to follow the retreating wave, and out-
strip the returning surge ; but the coal fire in the
small room, the boiled fowl with cockle-sauce,
bound the hopes of the day. In these high plains,
unknown to cloud or damp, the pure air elevates
and frees the spirit ; the glorious Sun is tempered,
and the Indian worships him as the Great Spirit
which governs the universe. Here, the horse,
which emulates in fire and swiftness the barb,
of which he is a legitimate offspring, bounds over
the plain — the obstacles in his course unheeded
— as if his feelings were more elated in such a
scene, and he felt he was stimulating those of his
rider. With head erect, he gazed, and would
veer toward the nearest buffalo, as he passed
through and between the herds that blackened
the prairie ; but the balance of his riders body
again brought him to his course. It was on the
edge of a deep ravine that he now suddenly pull-
ed up. Beneath, lay a narrow valley, where he
well remembered having made his first camp
with one now 7 far away, when on their journey
with Fitzpatrick from rendezvous on a disas-

ALTO WAN. 59

trous expedition to the country of the Crows.
He descended the steep bank, and stopped a mo-
ment on the plain below : but the thoughts of the
past had no farther power over the present, and
he was in a moment urging his horse through
the deep stream that invited his thirst in vain.
Another half hour, and the horses of Roallan's
camp dotted the green valley ; where, in a more
open and extended plain, another fork took a
winding course. In the calm air, the camp
smoke rose high, and a universal stillness seemed
to prevail. The baggage was piled round the
angle of the stream where it runs against a con-
siderable bute ; and the white tents concealed, if
thev did not shelter, the men.

However quiet a camp may be, there are al-
ways stragglers on the look-out : and Parfin's
approach had been noticed by one of these.
From his Indian dress and appearance, he was
hailed as the forerunner of an Indian village ;
and it was somewhat absurd to see the gestures
which were meant to communicate with him on
the part of the camp-follower, out of breath with
curiosity ; for he had not moved ten steps. Twist-
ing a countenance, at best but unmeaning, into
such shapes as he thought most suited to the op-
eration of his hands and arms, he produced some

60 ALTO WAN.

of the most extraordinary combinations of ges-
ticulations, interspersed with Romaic exclama-
tions, of which the human form is capable. But
all this was hardly changed for the better, nor
was his astonishment lessened, when Parfin an-
swered him in Italian that he wished to see Mr.
Roallan. In silent astonishment, he turned to
conduct the inquirer to a lodge which looked
upon the water, and was backed by a thicket of
willow.

Reader, you have perhaps never seen a cara-
van of Rocky Mountain traders ; for this camp
was made up of the same materials, and con-
ducted in the same manner. The event of a
strange arrival had summoned its dead to life ;
and that curiosity, which, under other circum-
stances, would have been ill-bred, was here palli-
ated, if not justified, by the relation in which man
stands to man ; where they all form, each for the
other, a mutual support. The classes of people of
whom these parties are composed, are the idle
and adventurous among the Americans, and the
hereditary voyageurs among the French ; who,
of Canadian origin, have emerged from the seign-
euries and snows of the North, to a less rigorous
climate, if not to milder laws. The appearance,
not less than the language, of the voyageurs, dis-

ALTO WAN. 61

tinguishes them from the others ; and their apti-
tude for the uncertain life of a trapper of the
Rocky Mountains, is conspicuous, even in their
first essay. As they continue to reside with,
they acquire the habits of the Indians. Many
go through all the vicissitudes of fortune, bring-
ing up families to follow as they have gone be-
fore, growing thinner and more wrinkled as they
advance in the vale of years — until at last they
are supposed to vanish into thin air, as no one
knows of their deaths, and no gray moss covers
their graves.

The lodge into which Parfin was about to be
introduced, stood, as we have said, on the mar-
gin of the water, and a little apart from those
which formed the line around the central space,
where the horses were tied to pickets during the
night. There was some short pause before a
ruddy youth with curly hair, who had been ap-
plied to, reappeared, throwing open the lodge
door. The apartment they now entered was large,
and hung round with scarlet cloth, raised up below
for the admission of air : the floor was of carpet,
and the skins of the tiger and leopard lay by
robes of the bison and the elk* in confused heaps ;

* The great Wapati deer is universally called the elk in the
United States, as the bison is called the buffalo.
Vol. L— F

62 ALTO WAN.

arms of various sorts were attached to the poles
that supported the roof, and a small chafing-dish
stood in the middle, on which a few pieces of
charcoal served to light a pipe or burn perfumes.
Wrapped in a cloak, Roallan had thrown himself
on a pile of skins ; fatigue from the morning's
ride and ennui, had shared their dominion over
him. He had just been aroused from sleep, that
usual refuge to the weary, which comes unwoo-
ed in these climes. Pointing to a robe spread
with some care at the back of the lodge opposite
the door, he said, " We have traveled hard, Mr.
Parfin, and are here three weeks too soon, I under-
stand, as my object was to meet some of the trad-
ers of the Hudson's Bay Company." " You will
not be the less sure to meet them for being early,
and all we have to do is to get round the mount-
ain on the Wind River and lay by. We will
make tired horses to their hunters if we remain
here." " Well, perhaps — is it far ?" " About
opposite here on the other side ; but we must go
round the mountain. The Argali have enough
to do to cross between these pinnacles." Roal-
lan, turning himself abruptly, now asked if he had
not been mistaken in thinking Altowan was an In-
dian ; and was informed that he was a half-breed^
and one of the most powerful chiefs of the Black-

ALTO WAN. 63

feet ; that he was now with a party, the trail of
which he (Roallan) had seen ; and that they meant
to stay with his camp some days. " I am told," said
Roallan, after a pause, " that they are a danger-
ous and a subtle tribe ; but perhaps I am speaking
to one connected with them ?" " I am connected
with none. I am a wanderer," was the gloomy
reply. " When shall we have any thing to eat,
Mr. Stay," said Roallan. " But are your friends
far off?" he rejoined, recollecting himself. " I
should think not," was Parfin's reply, pointing to
a streak of light which shone through a crevice
over the aperture which served as a door ; and,
in fact, the discharge of several guns confirmed
the assertion.

They issued from the lodge, Roallan feeling a
real interest, however concealed, in meeting those
celebrated warriors. They were yet at some
distance ; and everv moment there shot from the
group one or two horsemen, whose swift and cir-
cling career, was accompanied by shouts and the
discharge of arms, as if in alternate combat and
pursuit. Sometimes dashing up toward the camp,
their bodies concealed by hanging on the oppo-
site side of the horse, they would beat as a ves-
sel against the wind, and, equally sheltered, ap-
proach on the other tack. The raw heroes of

64 ALTOWAN.

the camp, ran to their arms ; and a few, who had
the experience of a former campaign, ran to col-
lect the horses. One American of the West,
whose tall and muscular form, long hair, and
eagle eye, would show him a free man among
the free, raised the ever-ready rifle ; and the de-
liberate aim which he took at one of the Indians,
whose gestures of defiance and savage yells
were conspicuous above the rest, must have been
fatal, had not Roallan laid his hand on his arm.
" Mind this, captain," said he, " you've spoilt an
aim that wouldn't a'gone for nothing. I wouldn't
have troubled myself with another." " Henry,"
said he, smiling, " I ought to have told you they
come in friendship." " I never expect much good
at their hands, and have always an itching to
have a crack at them," was the reply.

Joe Henry was of Kentucky descent, and born
in one of the remotest counties of Missouri. His
father owning slaves sufficient for the cultivation
of his farm, his family had no expense but that
of such clothes as were beyond the cunning of
the female part of the household. They were
too manly, however, and too independent, to
waste much upon such articles ; and a good
horse and stalwart form, set off the home-made
suit to more advantage, when they did visit a

ALTOWAN. 65

neighboring town, than the best broad-cloth
could its more artificial inhabitants. The black
bear was becoming extinct in the woods, and the
deer were rare and wild ; and Joe had decided
to follow the band of Roallan. There was no
one in the camp that would or could do more ef-
fective service ; but he would not be commanded ;
that is, he would not brook the tone of a master
to be used toward him. Generally employed in
hunting, he was often the companion of his cap-
tain ; and there seemed to be an affinity between
them of which they were hardly themselves
aware ; hence, any moment of emergency or in-
terest found Henry by the side of Roallan. The
long evenings of a weary day w T ere often passed
by him in listening to the details of foreign travel
and adventure he elicited from his companion ;
and his baggage and his horses, were at night,
close by Roallan's lodge.

The main body of the Indians had now come
up, and Altowan and the partisan entered the
lodge. The remainder, having squatted in a cir-
cle, began the preparations for smoking. Leav-
ing them thus, we must again shift the scene.

66 ALTOWAN.

CHAPTER III.

Ham's Fork is a winding stream, which falls
into the Susquadee some hundred and fifty miles
below the point where the opening scene of the
last chapter is laid. Thickets of willow, and a
narrow, grassy vale, offer convenient camping
ground ; and it derives security from the fact
that it is not the resort of war parties which may
chance to pass that way. Moving from the
Snake River, or the Flathead country, toward
the general rendezvous of the whites, there is
nothing to attract the eye but the low cotes bound-
ing the vale ; and but for the deep paths which
the buffalo have worn in their sides, the whole
would seem to be a wild, untrodden region. At
the period of which we write, there was no buf-
falo on the river ; and the frequent traces of bones
overgrown with grass, of huts, and pickets, and
fires, gave a sad appearance of desolation and
change, to what had evidently once been the
scene of crowded camps and animated life. It was
near a part of this stream, which approaches
within a short ride of the Susquadee, that an el-
derly man was seated in a small open, concealed

ALTOWAN. 67

by surrounding willows from all but the light of
heaven. By him were two horses, tied to pick-
ets. There was before him sufficient remains
of fire to enable him to keep lighted a short pipe,
in which he continually scooped up ashes for that
purpose. An appearance of care, and perhaps
of poverty, was observable in his air ; and the
bark of the alder, which he was now scraping
to replenish his pipe, evinced the want of tobac-
co — a privation which is often more distressing
than more serious want. The horses, apparent-
ly full, were standing with a drowsy air. Al-
though the marks of sweat had dried upon them,
it was evident they had but halted from recent
toil ; and even their present repose was speedily
to be interrupted, as one of them cocked his ears
in the attitude of listening. The old man was
on his feet in a moment. Bending below the
surrounding bushes, he crept for some yards,
until he gained the outer edge, where he could
have a view of whatever was passing. He had
not remained long, when he distinctly heard,
with trembling eagerness, the sound of hoofs
upon the hard ground. " I have not wandered
so long in these wilds as to be beat by a boy,"
he muttered, as he examined the lock of his gun.
In a moment, as they turned a projecting bush,

68 ALTO WAN.

two figures on horseback were close upon him —
the one a youth, and the other a female, whose
head, however, was so wrapped up in a large
handkerchief as to conceal her features. " We
will stop below, at the bend," said the former,
and the old man's gun was lowered ; "the horses
are tired enough." This met with neither no-
tice nor remark from his companion, and they
passed on. " Keep out of the trail," repeated the
young man, as the female struck into a beaten
path, where she left the traces of her horse's feet.
He entered the path where she left it, and com-
ing back, left the latter track to counteract the
first. As he turned for this purpose, his full front
was exposed to the rifle that had once already
been leveled at his heart. It was raised again ;
but another form ranged so as to unsteady the
aim ; and wheeling immediately, to regain his
place by his female companion, they went on to
the next point, where they dismounted. Lying
down, with her head against the root of a sturdy
tree, the female apparently gave herself up to a
feeling of despair ; and traces of recent tears and
impressions of distress, were strongly visible
both in her gesture and appearance.

The young man, after busying himself with
the horses and securing them, addressed him-

ALTO WAN. <>9

self again to her who lay listlesf and inactive.
" Idalie, will nothing induce you to listen to me ?
There is no one in the mountain loves you better.
There is — I have told you, and you know it — no
one before me in beaver-hunting ; I have credit
on the books for six hundred gourds,* and I have
a friend who will make me rich, if I but name
the want. I have four good horses and those
mules. Who has meat when I have not ? and
what is there in these wide plains that you can
desire that I will not procure for you ?" " I de-
sire nothing but to return to my father," she said,
without raising her eyes to that countenance that
gazed upon her. " Idalie, if, as you have said,
I drank the poison from a glance which was not
meant for encouragement ; if, as you say, the
many signs I took and believed true, which led
me on to that hope which has turned my brain
and sickened my heart, were the ebullition of
friendly interest alone, why not extend it farther ?
why not try me ? Nay, do not interrupt," seeing
she was about to speak. " Look yonder to the
Ute Mountain ; I know spots there, where the
foot of man has never trod ; let us live there,
until time shall show how every thought of my
life will be to make you happy." "I can not

* Dollars.

70 ALTO WAN.

let you go on, Auguste, under the hope you fain
would cherish ; nor is the outrage you have com-
mitted of a nature to warm a heart toward you.
Have you not, by false pretense, got me into
your power ; and by force carried me off? and
what have I now to expect but brutal violence?
And have I no wrongs at your hands ?" " What
animal is there who is not wild under his pas-
sion ? and can you, who have caused it, judge
me harshly?" And there was a fire in his eye
that she had known and dreaded before, and hers
dropped under it.

He was standing before her ; there was but a
momentary pause ; the report of a gun and the
fall of Auguste upon her, were the events of a
moment ; the next, her father had rushed from
the thicket and torn the wounded youth from his
daughter's arms. His enfeebled grasp would
fain have detained a hold ; but the rage of the
old man had not yet cooled, and he felt instinct-
ively for his knife. His daughter had, however,
now recovered the first shock of surprise and
agitation, and interposed. " My father, you have
done enough," said she, as she raised Auguste's
head to prevent his choking. He manifested a
desire to speak ; and beckoning her head nearer
his own, that she might hear the words which

ALTO W AN. 71

his remaining strength enabled him but feebly to
utter, " Idalie," he said, "if you will let me but
lay my head on your bosom, I will bless even
death there ;" and she gently gave him that last
support. " I believe my spirit is already where
more is known than we know here," he contin-
ued, "and I can tell that you — " and his voice
sunk inaudible to all but her on whose ear it fell.
But few words passed, and he tried to turn his
eyes upon hers ; but the effort was unavailing,
and the settled languor of death crept over a
countenance but a moment before beaming with
the fiercest passion of impetuous youth.

She scarcely knew he was dead till the old
man made her a sign to that effect. He had
looked calmly on his work, reloaded his rifle, and
resting it against a branch, spread out a blanket.
He then took up the body and laid it out ; and
whatever his thoughts might have been, he gave
them no expression. The father's countenance
bespoke now no exultation ; and his daughter's
showed no grief. Old Montalt — for it was he —
now brought two heavy stones, which he laid on
the blanket, one at the head and the other at the
feet of the body, and lapping it over, and fasten-
ing it with wooden pins and a cord of buffalo
skins, he dragged the remains to the edge of a

72 ALTO WAN.

deep pool, where the stream had undermined
the bank. Laying it along the brink, one roll
turned it over, and it sunk to the bed of the
stream. " Come, catch up, my child ; we must
go from here." They turned the two horses of
Auguste loose, hid his saddle, and mounting
those already mentioned as belonging to Mon-
talt, moved down the stream at a brisk pace.
There were many reasons for Montalt taking
this course, which was the contrary one to that
by which he had left the camp, in preference to
returning to it. He knew that there were In-
dians on the heads of Smith's Fork ; he knew
that he might have to follow the trail of his party,
which is always dangerous ; and he feared to be
questioned on his return to the camp, where Au-
guste had left many friends. He had thus pro-
ceeded some distance, when he came to a hard,
gravelly bank, where water-courses, now dry,
had washed away the soil and left bare the rock.
Up one of these he pursued his way in a direc-
tion toward the river.

There is not much difficulty in traveling on a
clear night, when the road is known ; and there
was scarcely a spot between these waters un-
known to Montalt. He had, therefore, no hesi-
tation as to the course he should pursue. They

ALTO WAN. 73

held on in silence, both occupied, and neither
with very pleasant thoughts. The pointers had
got round half a quarter of a circle by the time
they came upon the river bank. To their right,
a perpendicular bluff threw a dark shadow on
the water. The descent of the upper end was
easy ; and a grove of cotton- wood — in times of
freshet an island — stretched nearly a mile above.
Into this, through a slew neither wide nor deep,
they proceeded to find shelter and repose. The
grass beneath the lofty grove had been untouch-
ed, and it was not difficult to perceive that the
horses smelt its freshness, and by their neighing,
showed a disposition to stop ; but Montalt, from
some feeling of fear or caution, between which it
is difficult, under certain circumstances, to draw
the line, muttering something about the depth of
the current, took the ford. His horse breasted
the stream gallantly, and though it was deep and
rapid, was making a good course. Idalie fol-
lowed ; and they had passed through three quar-
ters of its breadth, when Montalt found the heav-
iest part of the river was yet before them, and
that he must turn up sharp to the left, to search
for a shoal. They were on the edge of the cur-
rent, which swept by them swift and strong on
their right ; and as they were on a raised and
Vol. L— G

74 ALTO W A N.

shallow shelf, it required an eye practiced to
these streams, to distinguish the shallow places
from the deep, in the uncertain light by which
they had to make their way. It was at this time
that Idalie had dropped a few yards behind, from
the slowness or weakness of her horse, and she
had not noted her father's careful and winding
course, when a sudden plunge immersed her in
the water, and she found herself drifting, her head
often below the surface of the water, being yet
entangled in her saddle. Luckily, however, she
was able to throw herself off the horse as he
sunk, and was rolled over by the strength of the
stream.

The swiftness of the current had now taken
her some distance down ; and her weakened cry
for assistance, was lost in the splashing of the
water. In the confusion of the moment, her feel-
ing was to struggle for a landing ; but drift-wood
at one time caught her head, while the under cur-
rent carried her down ; and when she regained
her senses, the conviction that it was necessary
to keep clear of such dangers, prompted her, with
the presence of mind a child of the forest ever ex-
hibits, to float in the middle of the stream until
she could see a clear place whereon to land.
This was effected about a quarter of a mile be-

A I. TO WAN. 75

low the spot where she was separated from her
father. He, trusting to her following close, and
keeping his eye on the ripple which served to
guide his way, had proceeded up the stream near-
ly four hundred yards before he found it safe to
cross its neck. He had once or twice address-
ed his daughter to caution her, and thought the
noise of the water could account for not hear-
ing a reply ; and, as his progress was slow, it
was some time after she had got ashore before
he missed her. It would be difficult to describe
the feelings which then took possession of him,
and the bereft and bewildered look with which
he gazed down the river, until a thought struck
him that she might have landed lower down. He
urged his horse along the bank, and got off to
examine every object he could perceive upon the
brink of the stream. His search, however, was
fruitless ; and he again mounted and pursued his
course on the shore. On seeing the drift-wood, in
which, in fact, she had been entangled, it appear-
ed to him now evident that some accident had
occurred to her ; and he galloped down the bank
with his eye fixed on the water.

Tdalie, on getting to the shore and recovering
her breath, proceeded up the bank to regain her
horse, where she supposed he had landed, and

76 ALTO WAN.

took a path which led behind some bushes, and
perceived him not very far off, but at some dis-
tance from the river. He was walking on, and
lowering his head occasionally, as if following
some track. She followed ; and the cord being
now loose and trailing, it was not difficult to
catch him. She found that her only loss was her
blanket. Mounting, her next object was to find
her father, who, she concluded, must be near ;
and she turned to search the river bank where
she supposed he had landed, and where she found
the wet on the gravel, and the fresh foot-mark of
the horse where he had mounted the bank. Not
having met him on the way, she had no doubt of
his having proceeded upward. It being impos-
sible to follow the trail, she resolved to ascend
the river till she could see the fire she conject-
ured he had gone on to light ; and putting her
horse into a gallop, partly from impatience, and
partly from a feeling of cold, she had proceeded
some considerable distance, anxiously looking
about her, when she perceived, not far ahead,
the light she so much desired. She did not for
a moment doubt that it was a fire made by
Montalt ; but if she had considered the matter,
or thought of the short time he could have pre-
ceded her, she might have known that the steady

ALTO WAN. 77

glare which she saw, and which shed a ruddy
gleam on the surrounding wood, could not have
been lit by her father. A few willows were be-
tween her and the fire ; but, on the other side,
there was nothing but the steins of the lighted
grove. Rounding the intervening screen, she
was at once by the side, not of old Montalt, but
of a tall figure, with whose countenance, as he
looked up with some surprise, she was totally un-
acquainted. There was a moment of embarrass-
ment, during which she had almost turned her
horse, when the fear which prompted flight gave
way before the instinctive confidence which that
countenance inspired ; and she inquired if the
stranger had seen her father. There was some-
thing romantic in the scene, even in a country
where events run not always in a wonted course.
In the prairie, at night and alone, where the
thoughts wander after the forms of well-remem-
bered or ideal beauty, and all that remains to be
wished is some object to love, as if at the bid-
ding of the wildest desire of the heart, there ap-
pears at once an object of beauty and of love.
It is not to be wondered, then, that the answer
was for a moment delayed in the survey of her
who asked the question. The desolate look of
Idalie on hearing no tidings, where she had so

78 ALTO WAN.

surely expected to meet her father, brought un-
der his observation her apparently forlorn con-
dition ; and he asked her if she would not dry
herself at the fire while she waited, assuring her,
that if her father was in the vicinity, the light
would naturally attract him. After a moment's
hesitation, she got off her horse, and approached
the blazing fire, on which Henry (for it was he)
piled additional fuel ; and as it threw ahead a
stronger light, Idalie perceived that there was
still another figure to complete the group ; for
Roallan, leaning on his elbow, surveyed, as if in
a dream, the figure which the light so plainly
showed to his sight, but could not explain to his
senses. Her hair very long, and drenched with
wet ; her figure drooping with fatigue and cold ;
her dress, of sheepskin, clinging to her form ; the
unnatural paleness of her cheeks ; and the tears
which, after unavailing attempts to restrain them,
hung upon those dark eyelashes, were all calcu-
lated to excite the sympathy of a spectator.
There was too much gallantry in Roallan to per-
mit Idalie to remain long in the situation of a
neglected intruder ; and it was not long before
his gentle voice had induced her to give the his-
tory of her recovery by her father, and her hav-
ing since lost him in crossing the river. Henry

ALTO WAN. 79

had brought a blanket and a robe, and Roallan,
taking her horse, picketed him near. He was
some time absent ; and, on his return, he insisted
on Idalie's putting on his shirt, which was but a
day old, and a blanket in exchange for her wet
garments. This was effected behind the bushes,
and she reappeared — the blanket tied round her
waist by a handkerchief, and at the neck by a
whary,* taken from the fringe of her wet dress.
There was no constraint in her manner ; and,
hanging up her moccasons by the fire, she sat
down to warm her feet — those feet, which in all
Indians are well formed, were in her beautiful ;
never having been deformed by shoes, but left
to grow as Nature intended. Gathering herself
up in the robe, she was soon sound asleep.

The morning broke over the low and dull ho-
rizon, which appeared below the trees ; and the
men of the party had loosed the horses, watered
them, and returned to the fire, before Idalie
awoke. Her sleep seemed restless ; and mur-
murs disturbed her dreams, in which she called
on Auguste and on her father. Roallan gazed
upon her, until her eyes opened with an almost
supernatural light, and gleamed on him in wild

* Strip of leather cut as narrow as tape, and used in near-
ly the same way.

80 ALTO WAN.

excitement. Covering up her head as if to re-
cover some recollection, she laid still a moment,
and the two hunters retired to let her fully recov-
er, and rise without restraint. The sound of their
retreating steps had no sooner died upon her ear,
than she sat up, threw back her hair, and in a
minute more, after a steady and yet hurried
glance, as if in search of some one, she bounded
off to the river side. The first thought of Roal-
lan was that she wished to escape, and it gave
him a pain for which he could hardly account.
He would have followed but for his companion,
who, with a smile, asked him if he wished to aid
at a lady's toilet. Her return was not long de-
ferred ; and the downcast look with which she
picked her way through the broken branches and
the prickly pear was, as graceful and engaging
as the step of the antelope. " I fear that my fa-
ther has lost all hope of finding me, and is gone,"
she said, after they had met together at the fire.
It is needless to go through the conversation with
Roallan, which was held in French, and in which
she was made acquainted with as much of his
history as he wished to be known. She was in
formed that he had left his camp, on its way back
to the other side of the mountain, and that he was
hunting ; but the result was, that, before the sun

ALTOWAN. 81

was three hours high, they were lading a spare
horse with the meat of two fat cows. Henry had
gone down to the mouth of the Sandy to look for
Montalt's trail, and the two were about to return
to their last night's camp to await his coming.
There was a joyous confidence in the manner of
Idalie ; and the listless and somewhat proud air
of Roallan, was evidently changed.

We must now return to the camp, where we
left Altowan and his party. They had moved
on to Big Sandy, not far from where it issues
from the last barrier of rock, to assume the char-
acter from which it derives its name ; and Roal-
lan — tempted on the way to leave the trail, in or-
der to take advantage of the plains that extend
to the south, to enter his untried horses in the
chase — had been carried away by its overwhelm-
ing interest, and found himself, at night, where
his fire attracted the attention of Idalie. Not
wishing to remain in a narrow valley, through
which the creek seeks its way among thickets of
willow, and where horses might be stolen unper-
ceived, even in the day, his camp moved upward
toward the base of the mountain. There, behind
the first range, is a plain extending toward the
east, into which many small branches descend,
meandering from unknown cavities, and whose

82 ALTO WAN.

waters flow to the eastern and the western seas,
and where the slightest obstruction could change
the source of one into a contribution to the other.
In this plain Mr. Stay was recommended to halt
until Roallan returned.

It was on the waning of the second dav after
their arrival, that Altowan and Parfin, who had
been out among the crags above after the big-
horn,* had descended to the vallev, and w T ere
seated by the side of a clear pool, shaded by
overhanging pines, and confined by a perpendic-
ular rock. Their feet had been torn by briers
and cut bv stones, and their moccasons worn
through ; and it appeared as much for the pur-
pose of mending them as to rest from fatigue, that
they had lingered in this sequestered spot. " I
can not but believe/' said Altowan, replying to
some previous observation, " that he must have
gone to meet the party where they were expect-
ed to be on Bear River, as nothing else could
have kept him out so long without an accident."
The other had heard, and was busy in arranging
a piece of his hunting shirt, to form a sole for his
moccason, and it w T as some little time before he
answered. " I must bull-hide my feet next time

* Argali, resembling the Siberian sheep, so called from the
size of the horns of the male.

ALTO \V A \ . 83

I follow you on these rocks. As to his having met
with an accident, he rides too well to make that
probable." "His object must be the same with
mine, and he has gained a move ; but. Parfin, can
not your evidence do without his f u You know
all I can say ; you know what I have done ; and
you know what I will do ; it is needless to push
the matter beyond its bearing. Montalt alone
can do you good : and he is vet to be won : and
there lies the difficult v. Should the voung ones
have met. this will be rendered a harder matter
still, and force must be the last resort. In the
mean time, I do not know how we are to man-
age these prisoners. There is bad blood already
brewing about them, and it is evident the Elk's-
horn would have the Ree."* " Some of the
whites are anxious to buy her : she is a fine ffirL"
said the other, musingly. They were now mov-
ing out of the embrasure of rock, from which the
basin by which they had been sitting, precipitates
its waters ; and the view of the camp and the
plain around, was suddenly opened before them.
Some of the horses had wandered out toward
the spot where they stood, and a horse-guard
was riding toward them. Alto wan sat down a
moment to enjoy the scene, and to muse on the
* General abbreviation of the Arrickoras.

84 ALTO WAN.

singular position in which he had placed himself.
Parfin sauntered on. He who had appeared driv-
ing in the stray horses was now close to Alto-
wan. Parted on the forehead, a profusion of
long black hair fell in luxuriance on his shoul-
ders ; his countenance was regular, and of an
olive rather than the copper color usual in the
Indian race. There was a bravery in the whole
air, and manner, and attitude in which he pre-
sented himself before Altowan ; and after a mo-
ment's pause, he led his horse to the water which
was running near. There was, however, a cer-
tain look in the eye and curl in the lip, which
counteracted the arched eyebrow and the open
front, and threw an expression of sensuality into
features of the most beautiful mold. He dropped
the trail-rope of his horse, and seated himself at
the feet of Altowan, and, without raising his eyes,
addressed him : " The eagle who flies near the
sun, though he goes long without food, must de-
scend upon the prairie cock and the fawn, and
his smallest wants lower him from his pride of
place." An inquiring but not unkind look, was
thrown on the Broadashe, which was caught in
one of those furtive glances which he habitually
cast around. " I know you have need of me," he
rejoined, " and I have not forgot that you saw the

ALTO WAN. 85

blood of the young Pine, and who struck the
blow ? I am true to you ; and when you speak,
I will listen." He sunk his eyes into the stream,
in which his feet were kicking about the pebbles,
with an air that had lost its animation.

The thoughts of Altowan wandered far from
the remote spot where they sat, and the singular
being who was his companion. He had been
an unexpected witness to the revenge which
Broadashe had wreaked on a young warrior who
had slighted and wronged him, and he had con-
cealed his knowledge of it from those whose ven-
geance would have crushed him. This circum-
stance had chained the Broadashe to Altowan ;
and whether from gratitude for the past, or fear
for the future, or personal affection, there was no
opportunity offered in which he omitted to show
his attachment and devotion. " You may as
well tell me your news, as I see you have some-
thing to tell, Watoe." " The chief knows more
than I can tell, but I can say what I have seen.
The daughter of the old French chief is with the
young white chief; they are in his lodge." The
eyes of Altowan had fixed Watoe to the spot, and
bore down the scrutiny he would have exercised.
He pointed to the horse, which was straying be-
yond the length of the rope, and moved toward

Vol. I.— H

86 ALTO WAN.

the camp at a quiet pace, in which the beholder
would not have perceived the agitation that lurk-
ed beneath a composed demeanor.

The scene which presented itself in the camp,
was somewhat different from that which he had
left, or from that which he expected to find.
There was a bustle and life it had not before ex-
hibited. The men were busy in catching the
horses, and in measuring the ground for racing,
and all wore the appearance of commotion. A
group was collected near Roallan's lodge ; and
toward that, Altowan guided his course, as it
seemed the universal goal. Old Montalt had
been followed and found by Henry, and was
now with his daughter in the camp. The greet-
ing between Altowan and him was not deficient
in cordiality. In this way, with apparent una-
nimity, the camp, composed of these varied ele-
ments, moved round the eastern end of the moun-
tain, and was in three days on the junction of the
Big Windy and the smaller stream of that name
— one rising from the west, and the other from
the eastern part of the range we have described.
The valley where these waters meet, is one of
the largest and best supplied with game of any
in these parts ; and the river's course is marked
by a luxuriant growth of cotton- wood, as it winds

ALTO WAN. 87

its way toward the northern confines of the vale,
through which it cuts a passage between perpen-
dicular rocks. Numerous passes, give access to
herds of buffalo that the Indian or white hunter
has disturbed, and that alternately flock to, or
leave its banks ; and the elk and the grizzly bear,
are found in great numbers in its brakes. The
great extent of pasture makes it a chosen range
for camps ; and it is often the wintering ground
for the Crows, in whose lands it lies.

The sun rose bright and clear in the east, and
the long shadows and dark defiles were in strong
relief; the region of the pine had its gloomy do-
minion on the mountain side, and the snows of a
thousand years shone on the peaks above. It
was the morn after their arrival at the Forks, as
they are called, and bands of buffalo were scat-
tered round, where they had not been scared by
the smell of camp or the route it had come.
There had been a plan for a general " surround,"
as this species of wholesale hunting is denomina-
ted, and all was kept quiet in order to effect the
object. A great proportion of the horses remain-
ed tied to their pickets, after the dawn had given
the signal for turn out; and the minor prepara-
tions, which had been neglected the evening be-
fore, were now in active progress. The lodge

88 ALTO WAN.

of Roallan showed an unusual bustle ; and the
number of impatient steeds that pawed the ground
round it, marked it as the abode of those who
were rich in the supreme blessing of a numerous
stud. When it was ascertained that all were
ready, a general move and the saddling of riding
horses, took place. Independent of those whose
lot it was to butcher and bring in the meat, there
might have been, altogether, fifty well-mounted
horsemen, besides others whose services might
be useful in turning in the herd which it was the
object of the hunt to destroy. This species of
hunting, which is practiced by the Crow Indians,
is a great means of preserving their country rich
in every species of animal that these regions af-
ford. There is no tell-tale left ; and a neighbor-
ing herd is unaware of the destruction in its
neighborhood, if not within the orbit of the chase.
A small herd had been reported at the distance
of about three miles from the camp. They had
descended from the heights and the gullies which
furrow their sides, and were grazing quietly to-
ward the bottom of the valley. The Elk-head
was already on his horse, and harangued his peo-
ple to check their eagerness and maintain order.
Altowan followed, musingly, the gay and anima-
ted stranger, behind whom were ranged those

ALTO WAN. 89

who were mounted, so as to be able to partake
of the sports of the day, while there remained in
the camp a very small proportion of its inmates,
to guard against unforeseen attacks.

There was a restrained eagerness in the char-
acter of the cavalcade as it proceeded, headed
by its chief, and followed by mules to bring in
the spoils of the field. Idalie rode with the
squaws in the rear, on a horse which her father
had given her, which was of extreme beauty of
form, and pure white. Mr. Stay was also among
the stragglers ; and the sly looks of his female
companions at his awkward attempts to restrain
a fiery horse, were to him a matter of increased
embarrassment. Having already more on his
hands than he could manage, he made however,
in the intervals, the best acknowledgments he
could to what he deemed their advances, and
would unquestionably have preferred to bestow
on them the caresses he lavished on his prancing
steed. By the aid of Roallan's camp, all the In-
dians were mounted ; and it might be remarked
that they had not chosen the worst horses of the
party. Having proceeded against the wind to-
ward the unconscious herd until within a short
distance, the entire affair was nearly spoiled.
Three bulls, which had been concealed in a small

00 ALTO WAN.

ravine, started out as if from the prairie, and but
a small bute separated them from the rest of the
band. While some of the whites had dismount-
ed to shoot, three of the Indians were already
straining their horses to come up with, or turn
them, before they could be perceived by the rest.
It was a burst at their utmost speed ; and the
silent but fatal arrow, had already stopped two,
and the third was rushing into the midst of the
throng of hunters, where nothing could have
saved them from a general uproar of firearms,
but that the danger of shooting each other re-
strained the whites, and the Indians were bent
upon baiting him to his last agony. With tongue
hanging out and bloody — weakened, enraged,
and bewildered — he backed himself against some
to confront the rest, seeming to acquire fresh ob-
stinacy of life by multiplied wounds. There w T as
no checking the shout and yell, as his enemies
dashed on their prey ; and he shook his shaggy
mane, leaped upon them with desperate energy,
generally to meet a lance wound or an arrow
from a more active foe. At this juncture, Par-
fin, fearing that the noise might mar the more
important operations of the day, dashed through
the throng, and coming behind the enraged ani-
mal, cut his ham strings, and dropped him on

ALTOWAN. 91

his hind quarters. He was now deprived of the
use of half his body, and sat waving backward
and forward upon his fore legs. With a cruelty
natural to savages, if not to the whole human
race, he was here tormented until his head sunk
in the dust, and still in the attitude of defence,
death relieved him from his tormentors.

The general stir subsided ; the barbed arrows
were cut out, those for hunting extracted, and
the huge carcass was left to be despoiled of such
parts as the varied wants of the camp might de-
mand. Mr. Stay was busily employed in tak-
ing the skin off the rump of the animal, to make
cords, with a blunt knife and unskillful hand.
This was a laborious operation, and the hot sun
did not permit it to be a cool one. " It is strange,"
he said, " with so many cords wanting, I should
alone seize the opportunity of securing a partial
supply. Men lose all thought here ; and this an-
imal's carcass is left without account, meat and
hide, while they scour the plains to run down
their horses. Who is to keep reckoning ? They
won't even keep dead reckoning /" And, pleas-
ed with the thought, he cut a gash in the skin ;
but while this soliloquy was going on, his horse,
naturally impatient, had disentangled the rope
with which he was tied to a sage bush, and was

92 ALTO WAN.

making off over the plain. Mr. Stay looked af-
ter him, half pleased at the occurrence, but for
which, he thought, he should have been obliged
to take a dangerous part in the hunt. But dread-
ing the loss of a valuable steed, with a constitu-
tional perplexity he stood gazing after him.
Watoe had already, with instinctive perspicaci-
ty, observed the demeanor and proceedings of
Mr. Stay, and felt a strong desire to aid in re-
lieving him of a horse he could not ride, and
leaving his own work-horse in its place. He in
fact,unperceived by the other, had loosed the rope
and added another to its length. It was not with-
out some surprise therefore, that Mr. Stay per-
ceived him led back by a squaw, as he thought,
after he had seen him disappear over the height.
He however, attributed this act of kindness to
the character of the females of these regions, as
he had heard it described, and in his simplicity
conceived that this was an advance which might
be turned to good account. On the horse being
brought up, which had been easily caught from
the additional length of cord dragging behind,
he was prepared to express his thanks by the
most eloquent signs he could command : which
however, the supposed squaw received with an
averted and downcast look. Laying his hand on

ALTO WAN. 93

his heart, he sought out the really beautiful eyes
of Watoe, waggishly thrown in another direction.
The bull-hide was forgotten ; and the only anxi-
ety of Mr. Stay, was to have the company and
propitiate the good graces of his handsome com-
panion. In the course of these endeavors, he
found that the change of steeds would be agree-
able to the Indian, and he could not conceal that
it would be so to himself. As he put the bridle
of his horse into the hand of Watoe, it was the
signal for vaulting into the saddle ; and with a
bow and quiver at his side, he was already urg-
ing the eager animal that bore him over the
neighboring height, before the surprised Stay
comprehended that it appeared no part of his in-
tention to remain as his companion. It was nec-
essary, however, to try and keep him within
sight ; and he accordingly squeezed himself into
the squaw's saddle, with which the Indian horse
was furnished — the short stirrups and high peaks
of which, were calculated to incommode any but
those to whom they belong. The jolting and
uneasy pace of the horse, kept him in continual
concussion from the front to the back of his sad-
dle ; and he felt heartily weary of this pommeling
when he arrived at the low summit, which gave
a view of the plain beyond.

94 ALTO W A N.

The scene which here presented itself was one
to inspire the most vapid disposition or animate
the dullest spirit. In every direction around,
were to be seen single riders, following one or
more buffalo, as they attempted to escape from
the circle that surrounded them ; while the oth-
ers were wheeling round and hemming in the
band, apparently stupefied by the general attack
— one part charging against another, and counter-
acting any general rush by which they might
have forced a passage. Occasional shouts en-
raged some, and others were brought down by
a more fatal aim. It is not to be supposed that
the herd was all this time stationary ; but as soon
as it moved it was headed and turned, sweeping
round a considerable circle. Roallan was con-
spicuous for his close approach and reckless rid-
ing — never shooting until he could almost touch
the animal he pursued. A small thong of leather
confined his luxuriant hair ; and the savage and
noble forms every where flitting around him,
meteor-like in their errant way, gained but little
in comparison with the ardent and joyous stran-
ger. Their dark and vengeful eagerness of ex-
pression, contrasted well with his fiery freshness
— living, as he did, in the bound of his horse and
the twang of his bow ; and the practiced Indian

ALTOWAN. 95

could not restrain surprise at the expertness of
the youthful white. But there were eyes that
followed his course with deeper interest than
those of the Blackfoot warriors or the whites,
who felt proud of their chief — eyes which strained
with an unaccountable interest, and burned with
a hitherto unknown fire.

Mr. Stay had already impelled his steed
through the conflicting orbits of half the field,
when he perceived his horse, guided by a more
willing hand, dashing away from a cow, in whose
side quivered the arrow of Watoe. The wound-
ed animal plunged toward its enemy, and fell in
the effort ; but the owner of the horse saw him
no more. Clouds of dust rising around, obscured
the few buffalo that remained of the original
band ; and upon these, shots were pouring from
every quarter. Those whose business it was to
collect the meat, were busy butchering ; and
though none had busied themselves about the
bull but himself, he alone of all, was idle here —
fearing the balls aimed at the living while prowl-
ing among the carcasses of the slain. The time
was come he perceived, to flesh his maiden
sword or retire inglorious from the fight ; and
he braced his nerve to the effort. A bull, with
protruded tongue, and showing every symptom

9G A L T O VV A N.

of fatigue, came up, pursued by several hunters,
whose ambition did not lead them in pursuit of
cows, whose greater swiftness, and activity, and
superior-flavored flesh, render them the object
of choice to the wanderers of these regions, both
for the palate and the chase. Goaded almost to
death, it wanted but the coup-de-grace to finish
him ; and Stay thought, while the others were
fighting shy of his terrible menaces rather than
his power to hurt, he might plant his ball in a
vital place. He accordingly raised his gun, and
aimed as his object staggered under his wounds ;
but the shot did not take effect where he intend-
ed ; and the cry of pain elicited from a half-
breed by a wound in the heel, and the exclama-
tions of " You have shot Nagos !" accompanied
the dying agonies of the bull. Stay's naturally
kind disposition was alarmed by the pain which
the wounded youth seemed to endure, and he
transferred his thoughts, with perfect simplicity,
as if from one page of a ledger to another, to af-
fording him relief. He was, however, not a little
shocked to find himself accused of having caused
the wound. " How is that possible," he exclaim-
ed, " when I shot at the buffalo ?" But the sur-
rounding voices determined the question against
him, and he was obliged to submit to the impu-

ALTO WAN. 97

tation, offering whatever ransom might be requir-
ed for the damage done, with an air of injured
innocence.

While these events were taking place, the
greatest part of the herd had been destroyed, and
the horses of the hunters were returning jaded,
toward the camp; when a war cry suddenly
arose among them, and the forms of several
blackened Indians appeared as if from the earth,
spreading confusion and surprise from the bold-
ness of the attack. With fresh horses they had
the advantage over Roallan's camp ; and it seem-
ed to be their object to cut off the stragglers,
while a desultory fire was kept up on those who
huddled together round Stay. Among these
were the women, including Idalie ; but her fa-
ther was not there, and her eye ran eagerly over
the prairie in search of him. At last some ob-
ject seemed to attract her, and she shot from the
group like an arrow from a bow. " She is on
the wrong course for camp," said Stay, as he
gazed after her. " Get into this hollow, boys, and
they can't touch us." There was a small hol-
low, which sank down perpendicularly for five
or six feet, into which they descended, and the
Indians did not venture within shot. Leaving
them to the anticipations of a siege, we must

Vol. I.— I

98 ALTO W A N.

pass to the scattered and more distant hunters
thus taken by surprise.

The war cry of the Crows sounding among
them — their horses fatigued, and their arrows and
ammunition almost expended — a retreat upon the
camp was likely to be a matter of some danger.
But the Crows were determined that this should
not be made in a body ; and, detaching twos
and threes to attack single enemies, they made
sure of some trophies. Of those singled out for
this species of attack, was Roallan. Among the
first, conspicuous from his own appearance, and
the noble animal he rode, it was evident he was
a principal chief; and two Crows rushed toward
him with the rivalry of a race. He was armed
but with a bow, and there were but three arrows
remaining in the quiver. Those who attacked
him had guns ; the only chance he had therefore,
was in a running fight. His horse was already
jaded by a hard day's work ; but it was neces-
sary he should now exert his last energies, or
leave his rider a victim to superior numbers.
As one, or two, or more, had borne down to cut off
his retreat, strained to the utmost speed that the
uneven nature of the ground would admit, his
pursuers still gained upon him. The best course
was the river side, though the odds there, were

ALTOWA N. 99

still in favor of numbers ; but he dashed on, and
had already got within three hundred yards of
the wood that fringes its banks, when he per-
ceived that this slight change in his course had
given those in pursuit an advantage over him ;
and for the first time, he struck his horse with
the whip. The spirited animal, unused to the
lash, sprung to the blow ; and the Crows were
still a hundred yards behind. But this moment-
ary acceleration gained him but the wood, when
he felt his horse flag, with a feeling that he had
now but to die as a man, as death seemed inev-
itable. He had entered a thicket and emerged,
and, as he plunged into the next, his horse stum-
bled and fell, and Roallan was thrown over his
head. In a moment he had seized his ears, and
kept him down panting under his weight thrown
on his neck. The place was a small hollow,
worn out by the stream when in flood, and over-
grown by some dwarf shrubs. The Crows rush-
ed past ; some skirting, some searching the bush-
es, but none supposing that so low a thicket
could conceal a horse and his rider.

There were other fugitives, also, still in ad-
vance, who might have been mistaken for their
chase, and they kept on down the stream. After
remaining in his constrained position for some

100 AT. TO WAN.

time, Roallan allowed his horse to rise, and led
him among some willows and buffalo bushes,
where it was almost impossible to penetrate
without forcing a passage. Here he determined
to remain while he supposed there was a chance
that any of the party might pass or come in sight.
Making his horse fast, he kept a look-out with
anxiety for some time ; but an unbroken stillness
prevailed.

Far up the opposite hills, forming the base of
the mighty structure above, it was possible to
detect the dark form of a buffalo ; but smaller ob-
jects were not to be discovered. On the other
side, the lower line of hills — which bounded the
valley on the north, and through which Wind
River forces a passage between many miles of
perpendicular rock — was too distant to show any
living body to the naked eye. All there, wore
the air of a vast solitude, but might still be full
of unseen danger. Roallan had remained in this
situation upward of an hour, when he perceived,
by the startled appearance of his horse, that there
must be something near calculated to create
alarm. Seizing the bridle to prevent his making
any noise, he stood ready for the worst that might
befall. He could distinguish the breaking of
branches, and the tread of feet, and the low voices

ALTO WAN. 101

of conversation in his immediate vicinity ; and he
had now no doubt, that his trail had been discov-
ered. His thoughts involuntarily fled far away,
to dwell, while yet they might, on other scenes
and distant climes. The future forever shut out,
the past was the more distinct and the more dear.
Centuries of thought roll through these condensed
moments. The lordly halls of his mysterious fa-
ther ; the Oriental luxury of his early days ; the
adulation of the world, in the glories of which
his young spirit had reveled ; and an undefined
interest in a being of these wilds, came over him
as he awaited the last struggle. But the sound
of that voice was not one of harsh and murder-
ous note ; the movement of the branches and the
rush of Roallan brought him not forth into a space
to ply his weapon, but into the arms of Idalie.

It was not to be supposed that Roallan could
have had several days' intercourse with a lovely
girl, in all the freshness of nature, without some
feelings of tender interest ; but it was difficult to
define what they were. On her part, the per-
sonal appearance and the kind treatment of the
stranger, had made an impression of which she
was not aware, farther than that her first thoughts
and her quickest anxieties were for him, after
her father. She had seen Montalt, and joined

102 ALTO WAN.

him in time to turn him back from the direction
of danger ; but her eye was wild and wandering,
even after she had seen the Crows driven off,
which was accomplished on the death of their
partisan, who lost his horse from the fire of Mr.
Stay's party, and was killed by Altowan. They
were thus proceeding, when they came upon
the thicket where Roallan was concealed, and
the neighing of his horse betrayed him. The
first impetuous movement of both opened the se-
cret of their hearts. Montalt looked indifferent;
and they gave way to that sensation which poets
have sung and sages have condemned — that mys-
tic influence destined by nature to be felt by all,
but whose hidden sympathies are oft so strange-
ly awakened. In the brightest passages of Ro-
allan's gayest days, that chord had been but lightly
touched which no^w vibrated in unison with the
first impulse in the heart of Idalie.

Montalt busied himself in extricating Roallan's
horse, and taking him with the others, to water ;
and he found that it would be necessary for him
to remind the lovers of the fact that they were
still at some distance from camp, in a wild and
dangerous country. " They will return, though
we shall not be troubled for some time. It is their
way after the loss of a leader ; and he must have

ALTOWAN. 103

been one of some note among them," said Mon-
talt, as he mounted. " They had met some of
Roallan's people, who had seen the body of the
fallen chief, and described him as a large man
with a gash across his cheek ; and by the marks
they give," continued Montalt, " lie is as great a
rogue as there is in the Long Hair's* band." The
thoughts of those he addressed were, however,
otherwise occupied ; and they proceeded silent-
ly, except when met by people in search of the
fruits of the day's hunt. On the heights along
their left, were every where stationed videttes, to
give warning of any return of danger ; and they
arrived in camp with the calmness of a return
from an ordinary excursion.

Idalie had constructed a hut of boughs, resem-
bling in shape the covering of a wagon, called a
shanty. It was near Roallan's lodge, on a green
spot overhanging the river — the Indians and
whites forming a semicircle, of which the river
was the chord. The camp fires threw up their
smoke in columns ; at every mess there was a
foaming kettle, and numerous roasts and marrow
bones, garnished the blazing piles. Masses of
meat lay in confused heaps in every direction,

* A celebrated Crow chief, who has allowed his hair to
grow to the length of eleven feet five inches.

104 ALTOWAN.

which some were cutting into thin slices to dry,
while others tended the culinary operations. All
the meat gatherers had by this time returned
with their loads, and the Indians were dropping
in one by one. The sun was sinking over the
head of the valley, the horses were driven up
and kept near the camp, the air was still, and the
murmur of voices sounded through the grove
like the hum of bees. The river alone, fled
swiftly through the scene, to pour its tribute into
the Father of Waters.

The disappearance of the sun below the hori-
zon was the signal for " catching up ;" and at the
word being given, which sounds like the Orient-
al call to prayer, every one went forth to secure
those animals allotted to his charge, and bring
them to their nightly stand. This evening there
was no careering, no curveting or bragging, as
is wont — each riding his best horse and vaunt-
ing his speed. Enough had been gone through
to fatigue the stoutest during the day. Not so
with the men. Like all other hunting fields, it
had its boasters ; and, after some skirmishing
among those who had been out, they, as if by
mutual consent, agreed to inflict the whole bur-
den of their exploits upon those who had re-
mained at home. This accumulation of recita-

ALTO WAN. 105

tive, prostrated in time those who listened •, and
those who told, were scarcely interrupted by the
alVs well of the guard. The blazing fires began
to burn dim, and all wore the air of security and
peace. The Indians who were with the camp,
had congregated round their fire, and the pipe
went its rounds. The not unmusical language
of the Blackfeet, sounded earnest in this council.
The Elkshead seemed to have a purpose in put-
ting forth his eloquence ; and there were some
who seconded him with an ardor that would
have made his cause their own ; but there was
nothing beyond the dignity of Indian self-pos-
session, and there were spies on the only men
who knew their tongue. One of these spies was
Watoe, who, with the winning playfulness which
characterized him, was offering to mend or make
moccasins, and giving loose to that flow of spir-
its which shows itself so rarely in the Indian
character, and is so buoyant and free when it
comes, was a source of gayety even to those
who did not understand any thing more than its
infectious feeling.

A blaze of resinous pine cheered and warmed
the lodge, of which Roallan occupied one side, a
not unpleased spectator of the frolic going on be-
tween Altowan, Pinatsi, and the Broadashe on the

106 ALTOWAN.

other. During this, Watoe contrived to say
something to Altowan, who shortly left the lodge.
Roallan, who had appeared amused at the scene,
asked Stay what he thought of the hermaphro-
dite. " She can pick up wood, and, I believe, is
as good a hunter as I am," said he, " and I don't
think will give much trouble ; though it won't
do to allow her to ride whatever horse she pleas-
es, either." They were interrupted by the en-
trance of Elkhead, who appeared at the door of
the tent — his tall form and sullen features being
lightened by the glaring fire which burned at his
feet. Perceiving that he awaited an invitation,
Roallan made a sign that he should be seated ;
and, after a pause, requested to know, through
Pinatsi, what were his wishes. " We have got
the scalp of the bull, and the Crows are gone
back ; we bring but mischief to you if we go
along with you nearer their village, so we shall
return to our country. We do not let the white
man trap there, who does not live with us ; and
our young warriors are fond of the horses of the
whites. The English protect and furnish our en-
emies with arms ; so does the Long Knife. They
keep us at war, that we may be forced to buy
their guns. We can not love the whites ; but
those that know you, will smoke with you ; and

ALTO WAN. 107

your horses are safe. You are the brother of
the Elkhead." Roallan answered, that the reas-
ons of the partisan were good, but that it grieved
him to part with him, and that he wished to know
why there should not be peace between the
Blackfeet and the whites ; and why they would
not keep their treaties when they were made ;
and w r hy they continued to kill the whites ? The
brow of the Indian changed during the discourse
of Roallan. " The young chief comes from be-
yond the great waters," he said, " and the deeds
of the whites here, are not known to him. When
did a Blackfoot break his word, or offer the hand
of peace with a heart of evil, until taught to do
so by them ? Who fired at my brother, while
giving the hand of friendship ? But the very
earth was ashamed, and received the ball, and
hid it forever ! Who but a half-breed, taught
by the whites, gave his hand to a Blackfoot chief,
while he told his companion to shoot him ? His
blood was spilled by a dog, in the sight of the
Great Spirit. But the young chief is not of this
kind. He will be welcome in our country. I
will look for him when the grass begins to with-
er." He ceased to speak, and his countenance
had resumed its calm, though stern repose ; but
it was evident, from his whole demeanor, that he

108 ALTOWAN.

liked Roallan. After a moment's pause, he add-
ed, " I am now ready to go ; has my brother any
thing to say?" Roallan desired Pinatsi to ask
if he had remarked a sorrel horse of his, consid-
ered the swiftest in the camp, and to tell the par-
tisan to take him, and remember his white broth-
er. Roallan then rose, and led the way to where
he was tied, and delivered the cord into the hand
of the Indian, who well knew the value of the
gift. He studied for a moment the countenance
of the youth, perhaps to try and find out the mo-
tive of this present, or from a momentary doubt
of his understanding aright ; but the expression
of that proud lip and eagle eye, as his bust shone
like white marble in the pale moonlight, showed
that it was a free gift ; and the look of the sav-
age rested in unconcealed delight upon his gen-
erous host. He then embraced him, and they
parted, each equally pleased with the other.

The doubtful indications of the break of day,
saw the Blackfeet partly preparing for their de-
parture. Those on foot had already set out, and
those on horseback were about to follow. The
horse guard were getting afoot, and the reveille
cry of " turn out /" roused strange forms from
beneath scattered heaps of blankets or buffalo
robes. The neighing of horses, and still more

ALTO WAN. 109

noisy impatience of the mules to be loosed from
the picket, was over, and a calm succeeded, al-
most as profound as the previous period of sleep.
Mr. Stay, who had a profound dread of starving,
was already urging on the cutting up of the meat
of the yesterday's hunt, for the purpose of drying ;
and the routine of a mountain camp, was taking
its usual course. It was in the waning of this
morn that Idalie strolled down the side of the
stream in search of the red willow for smoking.
Some trivial want or desire, induced Roallan to
go to the hut where she and her father lived ;
but he there found only the old man, who was
busy making arrows, and answered the inquiry
for his daughter by saying he expected her back
directly. The sunset came, and the " catch up"
sounded on the camp, as a relief from labor and
a call to revelry. But, amid the din and search,
where was Idalie? Her father, whose horses
she tied up, together with her own, was now
looking out for her, and feeling more anxiety
than he cared to show, at finding her absent in a
manner so unaccountable. It was well on in
the night when the certainty of some disaster
haying befallen Idalie, forced itself on all ; but
there were different feelings regarding it, though
all were interested in the beautiful daughter of
Vol. I.— K

110 ALTO WAN.

the wilds. Old Montalt tied up his horses, and
put fuel on the fire, and spread his bed ; but this
did not show, as he intended it should, that he
missed her not, and could do without her. At
last he came to Roallan's lodge, as he said he felt
lonely, and anxious about his daughter. Roallan
proposed to send out, in case she might have lost
her way, more to moot the question of possibility
of help than to propose it in any specific shape ;
but the father shook his head. " There are but
two ways she could be taken : the one by In-
dians, and the other by a bear ; in both cases a
night is too long a start." The thoughts of the
bereaved parent, could not but recur to the death
of Auguste, and how willingly he would now
give her to such a one, if it were only within his
power ; and his head sunk on his knees in unut-
terable anguish. Every noise in camp and every
move of the horses, was at first hailed as betok-
ening her approach ; but the midnight watch
brought no relief to their fears. The other in-
mates of the lodge composed themselves to sleep,
and Montalt sat by the fire.

It is not to be supposed that this composure on
the part of Altowan and Roallan proceeded frpm
indifference. They had instinctively found them-
selves out to be rivals, and each wished to conceal

ALTOWAN. Ill

from the other, emotions but too deeply felt ; be-
sides, they had each formed the project of fol-
lowing in search ; and knew that the repose they
might enjoy, was a necessary preparation fbr the
fatigues they might have to encounter.

112 ALTO WAN.

CHAPTER IV.

The morning of the departure of Altowan and
Pinatsi from the camp, had passed from dawn to
sunrise ; and Roallan, uncertain what course to
take, though eager to follow in pursuit, yet debat-
ed, after hearing all the advice and information
he could collect, as to that which offered the
fairest chance of overtaking the captors of Idalie;
nor was there any one on whom he could rely to
aid him, unless it were her father. Notwith-
standing the apparent calmness of the old man,
he was inwardly a prey to deep regret at the
loss he had sustained ; and though not without
parental affection, he felt also the loss of a com-
panion of the sweetest temper and the most ready
cheerfulness, whose willing hand saved him all
exertion, and left him to dream in indolence of
prolonged ease, and of the riches still to be ac-
quired by means of her charms. The object of
the expedition would be attained by the profits
of anticipated purchases and sales by Mr. Stay,
and a general desire to meet at the great ren-
dezvous, prevailed among the hired hands of his
camp ; so that these individual feelings could have

ALTOWAN. 113

little sway. The power of Roallan was of course
considerable, although it is not to be supposed
that he could force any of his people to join him
against their will, in an expedition without a
guide, and without a prospect of success, to com-
pensate for the certain danger it must incur.
Besides, from all that had been told the " green-
horns" by the older travelers, and by the evi-
dence they had of the slight estimation of females
among the Indians, they were not easily to be
moved to deeds of enthusiastic chivalry. Balan-
cing, therefore, all the remote chances of success
with the account the old hands gave of the coun-
try and its dangers, the discussions at the differ-
ent fires, left the whole camp impressed with a
sense of the folly of an attempt which they were
aware might be proposed, of recovering, for their
young chief, the now avowed object of his anxi-
ety and affection ; so that when Henry, at the
desire of Roallan, sounded some of the experi-
enced trappers, it was found that not only would
they refuse to start on an expedition, which,
though attended by no other risk, might deprive
them of the anticipated pleasures and festivities
of the meeting of the traders on the Susquadee,
but that it would be considered highly wrong to
attempt to persuade any of the inexperienced

114 ALTO WAN.

into a measure which could only be productive
of personal gratification to a thoughtless young
man. It is necessary to understand, also, that
there are situations in these wilds in which a
small party, ignorant of their route, would be in
peril almost as great as a boat at sea without a
compass — surrounded by dangers from any In-
dians they might meet, and killing game for their
subsistence, at the risk of bringing on their un-
wary heads observation and consequent attack.
The camp of Roallan was on the left fork of
Wind River, which rises at the northwestern ex-
tremity of the range that we have already call-
ed the Mountains of the Winds, and runs along
their northern base in a southeastern direction,
until met by a range of heights and another
stream, which turns its course to the left and in-
creases its volume. Not far above this junction,
the eastern fork of the river meanders through a
grove of cotton wood ; and on its right bank runs
a low range of sandstone bluffs cut down per-
pendicularly to the green sward, with thickets
of buffalo berry and currant bushes, and dwarf
pear, and gooseberry, and bubbling wells, which
refresh alike the eye and the palate. The camp
had passed this spot, and forded the river a little
lower down ; but Stay had remarked its beauty,

ALTO WAN. 115

and having a taste for poplar groves, and a hor-
ror of the inconveniences of narrow limits, pro-
posed moving there as a diversion from the theme
of Idalie's loss ; and Roallan acquiesced in the ar-
rangement, as it afforded him time and opportu-
nity to carry into effect the plan he had formed
of attempting the rescue. The point between
the forks, is but a narrow plain near their junc-
tion, though widening above — the streams which
form it, coming from opposite points of the com-
pass ; but from where the camp was situated
on the one, to where it was about to be removed
on the other branch, was but a short distance.
The hunters however, were to take the opportu-
nity of the general catching up, to sally forth on
an extended hunt — there being, from the late dis-
turbance of the valley, little chance of finding
meat near at hand. Roallan and Stav rode to-
gether as they crossed the plain on which their
races had been run ; and the parade of Indians
on their war horses, careering up and down at
even, had been emulated by whites, when the
whole space wore the air of a tournament. They
had lost the Indian part of the scene ; but while
the long line of loaded mules were sedately fol-
lowing their leaders, there was still a noble band
of horses, urged on by their drivers with the lasso

116 ALTO WAN.

and yells re-echoed by the groves from either side.
A cloud of dust scarce marked their way, as, af-
ter dashing through the river, they were lost in
the shades beyond ; it was but a step across the
arid plain to this fresh and flowering herbage.

One party of hunters had already set out to
the westward ; and another, headed by Henry,
was to proceed in an easterly direction. It was
often the habit of Roallan, to go out with these
parties when he did not prefer being accompa-
nied by Henry alone. He had dashed on in
front, while Stay was watching the progress of
the mules through the foaming torrent; and the
wood concealed his course. Pointing out a spot
for a horse-pen, and a turfy carpet under a shade
for the site of his own tent, he was not long in
disappearing from the eye, as he followed the
course which Henry's party had pursued. Mean
while the camp was forming in a circle as it
came up, the different messes collecting fuel and
the willow boughs for constructing their tempora-
ry abodes. While this was the employment of
some, others were exploring the smooth surface
of the rocky wall which bounded the eastern
side of their camp, in expectation of finding, in
some recent hieroglyphic, the record of the last
Indian war party which had passed from the

ALTO WAN. 117

country of the Snakes. But the heat of the day,
induced most to abandon all more active exer-
tion, and fan themselves to sleep under the fresh
and grateful shade. It was a lovely scene, to
look from under that tall grove on the snowy
peaks of the mountains and the dark valleys that
covered their sides, inhabited by Indians un-
known in their habits and language — never quit-
ting their secluded range but to send the few
peltries they obtain to their richer neighbors for
some article necessary to their rude and simple
lives. Hunters have traversed the valleys of
these mountains often ; but never, save once,
have they come upon the dark abode of the
Chochoco.

The lodge of Roallan had been pitched ; its
carpets and its buffalo robes, its tiger skins and
its robes of sable ; choice arms of every sort
hung around, and in the center stood the censer,
from which was to be lit the sacred pipe. The
couches, which extended round the lodge, scarce-
ly differed in appearance; but that one on the
right hand, at the entrance, was heaped with
richer furs, and spread with more scrupulous
care than the others. A part of the back was
raised, so that a slight breeze might be admitted,
and a view obtained of the mountains and the

118 ALTO WAN.

rapid river that flowed from their melting gla-
ciers. On the left of the door, lay the youth who
had followed Roallan from the ship, in a dress
which he had procured from the party of In-
dians who had just left the camp. He seemed
to enjoy the change from the sailor's jacket and
trowsers to the shirt and leggins of the Black-
feet. He had been busying himself with vari-
ous matters appertaining to his charge ; and per-
ceived that the store of powder and balls, which
it was part of his duty to keep always ready for
Roallan, had been unaccountably diminished and
almost wasted. This discovery seemed to throw
a shade over his usually sunny smile. Some other
things, trivial in themselves, now came to add
force to a growing impression that there was —
to use the language of his own thoughts — " some-
thing in the wind ;" and there is no one so jeal-
ous of a want of confidence as a valet who thinks
he has, or merits, that of his master. He changed
his position to the back part of the lodge, where
he could see out both in that direction and at the
door thrown open in front, so that any arrival or
movement in the camp, could not fail to be per-
ceived. But the watch and the cares of youth,
are neither long nor deep ; and the nodding head
and drooping eyelids, soon settled into repose.

AI.TOWAN. 119

There was, however, one near who but seldom
slept, and whose slumber was said to be but a
thin veil over an open eye and ear. He had
been making a circuit round the camp in search
of something he did not need, gathering informa-
tion, and making small purchases of popularity,
which could not excite attention, though by con-
tinual increase they formed an important stock.
His air, as he came toward the lodge of Roallan,
underwent a total change ; a marked earnestness
took the place of the unmeaning smile it had be-
fore worn ; he entered with an air almost of
command ; and seating himself within reach, did
not hesitate to wake the slumbering occupant,
who started up as if surprised in some act of
crime. " Have you nothing to tell me ?" inquir-
ed Parfin in good English, with a slight foreign
accent. " I do not know that I have," was the
reply, " unless that I believe he has gone after
that girl." " What makes you think so ?" rejoin-
ed Parfin, his eyes still firmly fixed upon his com-
panion. "Know you not that if he is gone, he
may most likely never be seen again ?" A shade
of concern came over the brow of the youth, and
he raised his eyes to his interrogator with a look
of greater interest, stating at once the little things,
which, put together, made up the reason of his

120 AT. TO WAN.

belief in Roallan's departure. Parfin heard him
with unmoved calmness, and left the lodge with-
out remark. The other looked after him, and
muttered to himself, " I scarcely know whether
he means him good or harm."

About evening, Stay began to inquire for Ro-
allan ; and the answers he received, were such
as to raise a suspicion that he had left the camp
on that wild search, the folly and danger of which
he thought had been fully demonstrated in the
ample discussion of the night before. However
this gentleman might be disposed to view the
matter, taking it as a parallel case to the depart-
ure of Watoe — regarding whose sex he had nev-
er been undeceived — there was a deep feeling of
interest among the hired men ; and many groups
were formed round the fires that night, to dis-
cuss the propriety of following in a body the
way he might have taken. But a difficulty arose
as to the route ; and the resolutions of fresh hands
are easily damped by a few words of doubt from
reluctant experience. In this state of doubt the
dawn found the camp of Roallan. But there were
two who had made up their minds as to the course
to be pursued ; and two stout mules stood saddled
under the rock, where, from different directions,
appeared Parfin and Jasper, the sailor boy we

ALTO WAN. 121

have already mentioned. Both were in Indian
costume. They mounted, and hurried over the
rolling heights with considerable rapidity, to cut
off the bend of the eastern fork of Wind River,
and strike it at the grave of Brais, who was kill-
ed in a scuffle with one of his comrades many
years before, and had been buried on its banks.

There are few more dreary tracts than that
broken ground, torn up by torrents, which lies
on either side the way to the pass which leads
on to Sweet Water ; and as there are seldom any
buffalo on the end of the mountain range, there
was little doubt that the hunters had taken the
left-hand road toward Sweet Water, instead of
that which leads by the Coal Tar Spring. Upon
gaining the height, however, on the end of the
mountains, the tracks of buffalo appeared, leading
to the right, in great numbers ; and appearances
of bands having crowded over precipices in some
places, showed that they had been pursued. The
track also, of a mule, in one of the paths along
the precipice, clearly pointed out that they had
been followed by whites, as well as by a herd
of wolves, whose foot-prints had almost oblitera-
ted the traces of every thing else. They thought
they saw something move on a distant height,
though it was quickly lost again ; but the hope

Vol. I. — L

122 A I. TO WAX.

which thus sprung up, of so soon overtaking their
search, or getting so surely on their track as to
be certain of their course, induced additional ap-
plication of the whip and the heel. They had
rounded several green heights scattered with
pines, and looked down on the deep, red jaws of
the gorges beneath. Occasional groves of birch
and aspen, contrast their tender green with the
deeper shades of the cedar and the pine ; and the
startled antelope bounds from your path, where
no eye can follow his rapid course, plunging into
the bottom of a deep glen, where the mosaic bed
of a torrent is scarcely covered with the water
of the placid spring ; a safe and beautiful road
leads upward to the source, shut out from the
sun by the meeting boughs of the wild cherry
and the birch — still, and cool, and traceless as if
it had never been trod. They proceeded warily
along ; and the keen caution of Parfin showed that
to him the beauty of the route was but a second-
ary consideration, while the absent, meditative
air of his companion, evinced a complete aban-
donment to the pleasures of a scene into which
they had been transported as if by enchantment.
Some scruples which his mule evinced, induced
Jasper to suspect that they were near something,
which he thought might be a grizzly bear ; and

ALT-OWAN. 128

he pushed up to his companion to impart his
hopes. Parfin had been busy with his ears and
eyes, but had not remarked those of the animal
he rode, which he now perceived were excited
by some attraction, and he pulled up to the spot.
Cautioning the other, by a gesture, to remain still,
he quietly dropped from his mule, and throwing
the riding cord to him, stepped noiselessly into
the thicket that lined the banks.

Nothing but an habitual respect to orders, and
a general sense of danger in this wild country,
would have induced Jasper to remain quiet un-
der the exciting expectation of a bear hunt. A
few minutes, however, set the question at rest.
Parfin reappeared down the stream, and beckon-
ed his companion to proceed. There were but
a hundred yards to a barrier of rocks which
crossed the valley in large detached blocks,
from below which, bubbled the stream over its
bed of feldspar and mica, into a small basin. A
margin of turf spreads itself on one side, and a
perpendicular cliff rises on the other. The place
was beautiful, but not such as those experienced
in such matters would choose for safety. " They
have left here this morning," said Parfin, as he
pointed out the still warm ashes of the fire, with
the roasting-sticks and the bones, the remains of

124 ALTO WAN.

a plentiful feast that were scattered around.
" But let us be off; we shall find them by the
moving of the buffalo." The disappointed youth,
and no less disappointed mules, were constrained
to pick along one of the paths they found slant-
ing the steep acclivity they had to surmount, from
whose bald head they could view the courses of
the waters of the Platte and Yellow Stone.

Parfin left the mules in a small hollow near
the top, and crawled carefully up to the bare
height ; but he had scarcely adjusted himself for
a survey of the valleys of the Sweet Water, that
head in the forests above, when he was startled
by a yell from behind a screen of pines, and a
gigantic bear appeared at the same moment
crashing through their branches, the hair raised
on his back, and his head turned for u moment
toward the new enemy as he plunged down the
opposite side of the height. It was scarcely the
work of a moment in Parfin, to remount ; and as
he and Jasper, urged their startled mules down
the slope, they were passed, as if they had been
standing still, by Henry, cheering them on as he
shot ahead. The mules, encouraged by the ex-
ample of the horse, mended their pace ; but the
horseman had already so far gained upon his
shaggy chase as to turn him toward the plain.

ALTO WAN. 125

It was now that the play was to be made ; but
the roughness of the ground did not allow it to
become a trial of speed. Some places, it is true,
were open, where the horse almost overtook the
less fleet monster ; but a thicket or ravine again
interposed its protection, and the horse was again
thrown out. These thickets were either too
small, or the animal, who was gaunt and long of
leg, in the racing trim of one not long emerged
from his winter seclusion (when they are known
to be most swift and dangerous), trusted still to
his speed — still disdaining the covert, even as a
momentary rest ; but the plain that now suc-
ceeded, was of longer extent, and the crossing-
place easier, and they were nearly abreast — the
distance of a hundred yards being all that di-
vided them. It was now that the hunter had
to urge his horse to run into, that he might pow-
der-burn the bear by the nearness of the shot.
His gallant Roan was strained to his speed ; but
he neared his foe with a careful eye and an un-
certain vibration of the ears ; only a few strides
divided them, and the head of the bear was turn-
ed in the attitude of menace. One stroke of the
whip, and the bound of the fleet courser, urged
beyond his fears, was within a spring of his foe.
Both the hunter and his quarry were preparing

126 ALTOWAN.

for closer quarters ; the one already standing in
his short stirrups, to steady him for an aim, which
it would be, at least, dangerous to miss, and the
other watching his enemy with an eye that meas-
ured for the bound. The horse, however, though
urged closer by the reckless daring of his rider,
shrunk from the terrible menace ; and it was
well for him he did, for the rifle of his master
missed fire as the horse diverged, and the spring
of the enraged animal fell short. The hunter
was now converted, for a time, from a pursuer
to one pursued, while he adjusted a fresh cap on
his rifle. The horse, finding himself for a mo-
ment uncontrolled, darted off to the left ; the bear
taking a course to the right, toward the wooded
and impracticable heights.

Thus thrown out, Henry had to make up his
distance up hill and over difficult ground — the in-
stinct of the bear showing him the advantage of
the precipitous chasms into which he plunged in
retarding his pursuer, who could only skirt the
ravine, which now became more rugged, and up
which the monster threaded what appeared to be
an accustomed path. This burst, as it may be
termed, was run in a semicircle, the mules be-
hind keeping the inside, urged on by their riders
with the eagerness which inspires every one who

ALTOWAN. 127

engages in this singular and dangerous chase.
The death of a shark at sea, is attended with
what alone approaches the savage delight with
which this animal — the dread and scourge of
these regions — is destroyed. The great danger
which always attends the pursuit of the grizzly
bear, his ferocious character, and the dread which
his presence always inspires, make this the most
exciting chase upon the American Continent.

The mules, pretty evenly matched, had kept
within reasonable distance, taking the string of
the bow, so that they could command a full view
of the hunt, at which it seemed, at one period,
their assistance might be required to extricate
the hardy horseman, who appeared now redoub-
ling his efforts again to come up and force a
combat. The frequent fissures in the earth,
caused by the fall of heavy rains, as well as the
rocky ravines — the regular channels of the wa-
ters — presented dangerous leaps to the horse,
now white with foam ; scattered bulls fled from
the green retreats that shelter and fatten them ;
the Wapati stag, still careful of his growing horns,
was seen bounding from his covert ; and the
herds of buffalo, far in the plain below, were
roused by those from above, and fled. All this
came into view at once to the followers of the

128 ALTOWAN.

chase ; and Jasper would have staked the remain-
der of his existence for half an hour sure of a fleet
steed. "With straining eyes they followed on ;
and as they saw the gallant hunter gain in the
pursuit, the rocks they neared gave back the
long yell — the hail of success. It had become
necessary for Henry to bring this race to a con-
test or a close, as the rugged heights above would
afford an easy refuge for the now evidently dis-
tressed bear, who, with mouth open and tongue
hanging out, began to weave in his lope, while
almost within a spring of safety. But the bullet
was not to be again diverted from its destined
course ; and at the last moment, as he turned for
an attack to secure his retreat, the ball entered
his side, and he fell, roaring with pain and biting
the wound with rage. The wound, though large,
and planted where it would ultimately prove
mortal, did not hinder him from rushing into the
thicket. While Henry was pulling up his horse,
and reloading, he could hear the breaking of
dead branches, as he rolled and moaned with
pain ; and he was on the point of entering the
covert, when the shouts of Parfin and Jasper an-
nounced their approach, and excited him to com-
plete his work before they should come up to
share the triumph. The red track of blood on

ALTO WAN. 129

the rocks and leaves, and the now more distant
growl of the wounded animal, enabled him to
proceed about fifty yards, when he found the
branches broken and the ground stained with
blood, where he had stopped and rolled on the
earth, and where a pool of black mud and water
had invited him to bathe. Necessary caution had
prevented Henry's advancing into a tangled mass
of bushes and rocks, so well adapted to ambush ;
and he paused to look round, certain that the ob-
ject of his search lurked near. While endeavor-
ing to obtain a view beneath the dark shade, a
noise, as if of some animal moving, made him
start to his right, when the branches gave way,
and he fell suddenly over an old stump, on which
still stood some peeled and blighted stems, and
from which grew some fresh and lofty boughs.
The same sign that led him conducted those who
sought him. They rushed at a crash and a shot,
and found the bear reeking in black slime and
blood, half couched between two stems — where
he had sunk from an arrested spring — and Hen-
ry creeping off below the adjoining thorns, ap-
parently unhurt, though scarcely out of reach.
The heart beat loud at a moment of such critical
danger. As Parfin brought up his rifle, he felt
his aim less steady ; and he thought of the means

130 ALTO WAN.

of escape as he pulled the trigger ; but this shot,
which took effect behind the ear, at once pros-
trated the vital powers of the monster ; the claws
were stretched out, the limbs extended, and the
head drooped. The excitement how 7 ever, of Jas-
per, was so great, that his shot came unneeded
to finish the work.

A few moments sufficed to reload the arms,
as they each silently gazed on their victim, who
seemed terrible even in death. The immense
head drooped, and showed that he had been shot
as he sprung ; and nothing but that shot at the
critical moment, could have saved Henry, al-
ready prostrate under the root on which he fell.
" We may as well see what is doing as be choked
in this blind place," said Parfin, as he retraced
his steps to the open, while Jasper eagerly ques-
tioned Henry about Roallan — his interest in him
exceeding even that he felt in the very excit-
ing scene he had just witnessed. Henry an-
swered him, while cutting off as a trophy, the
fore feet of the bear, armed with their enormous
claws, that he knew T nothing of him. It was
with a countenance of regret and concern, as he
parted his long hair on his white forehead with
his bloody hand, that he gazed upon his compan-
ion, and asked if he was serious, and why Par-

ALTO WAN. 131

fin, who ought to have known better, thought
that he had come with him in the direction con-
trary to their natural course. " Have you kept
a good look-out ? can so small a party have pass-
ed above you, round the mountain ?" asked Jas-
per. " It is out of any man's power to say that
there is no passage above ; indeed, it is more
probable that there is," answered Parfin.

It would have required more time than this
party had to spare, to take the skin of their prize,
the vast weight of which alone would have been
an impediment ; and they all gathered on the out-
side to smoke and look out, from so conspicuous
a spot, for any objects that might be approaching
from the plain. They were preparing to mount,
there being nothing in view, when, by a buffalo
path, there emerged from the adjoining grove, the
two men who accompanied Henry, with their
two loads of meat. Waiting a moment for them,
there was evidently a dilemma as to their farther
route. The meat they had to send back to camp ;
and Parfin still believed that Roallan, with the
other party, had gone round the mountain above,
and that — as in that direction lay the rendez-
vous — they might as well keep on that course,
and wait there on some of the lakes and sources

132 ALTO WAX.

of the Colorado of the West, which rises on the
southwestern side of the chain.

The movements and decisions of men whose
lives are hunted, and who feel themselves objects
of chase under an unseen eye, must always be
rapid and decisive. The muleteers turned back
on their tracks ; and Henry and his followers in
the bear hunt, proceeded alone toward the after-
noon sun. It. was necessary to get quickly from
a spot where they had already been too conspic-
uous for safety ; and they cantered briskly along
various worn buffalo paths, changing from one
to another, and occasionally taking advantage of
a water-course to lose the trail. The sun had
sunk so low as to throw the greatest part of their
way into shade, which warned Parfin of the time
he had been out. They therefore, broke off to
the right, up a small creek, where, at the top of
a rapid, there appeared to be a small plain ; it had
probably been a lake, but was now filled up by
the wrecks of timber and the deposits of the
torrents of spring ; it had been formed into a
little open space, occasionally interspersed with
willow of dwarfish growth, which marked the
course of the stream that meandered through its
bosom, in search of that momentary repose which
it formerly had found. On the margin of this,

ALTO WAX. 133

beneath the premature gloom of the towering
pines, they deposited their saddles and lit their
solitary fire, the animals greedily browsing the
short grass of the adjoining mead. The cook-
ing from their scanty store of meat, was simple
and quick ; and the eating and the appetite kept
pace. There was neither song nor story — the
two elder buried in their own thoughts, and the
younger already in the arms of sleep. There
appeared to be no great cordiality between the
first two. The superior knowledge of Parfin in
his own country — in its dangers and its chase —
added a slight feeling of envy to a general dis-
taste and distrust in the mysterious quiet of his
ways ; so that the little intercourse that passed
between them, was as cold and constrained as
the circumstances under which they were mutu-
ally bound to each other, would permit. Each
wrapped in his blanket, they laid with their feet
to the dimming fire ; but, before going to rest,
Parfin got up, and cutting some pickets, secured
the horses to them.

No sounds occurred sufficient to disturb their
deep and well-earned repose ; and the cold gray
dawn found them still at rest. By mid-day they
had entered an open and more elevated valley,
behind the rugged and woody range which forms

Vol. I.— M

134 ALTOWAN.

the base of the pile above. This valley runs a
considerable way along the base of the snowy
peaks on the right, and the back of the broken
basement on the left. It was late on the second
night of their absence from camp, that they halt-
ed at the head of a deep ravine that leads down-
ward to one of the small lakes which every where
mirror their parent mountains from their bosom.
It was time to halt for the night ; and they were
far above the trails even of those Indians who
hover on the mountain side, to stoop like the fal-
con on the prey they may discover traversing
the plain below, which is alike the way to the
great rendezvous and the general pass to the re-
gions of the West. Having come thus far to be
out of the reach of danger, and enjoy leisure to
search for a retreat where they might wait the
appearance of some of those camps whose dust
might be looked for in every wind, they were
fortunate in finding a grassy glade for the horses ;
and in the conference of the two elder there
was exhibited much more frankness than char-
acterized it the evening before. It was arranged
that Jasper should remain in charge of the horses,
while the others explored the recesses of the ad-
joining solitude ; and we leave him picking off
the small portions of meat that adhered to the

ALTO WAN. 135

skin of the bears' feet, preparatory to drying
them, and occasionally turning any of the three
animals who might show a disposition to wander.
Parfin and Henry descended the banks of a tor-
rent, which disappeared from the plain among
fragments of rocks and trees torn from their
roots. Down this precipitous descent there was
no trace of a path ; though here and there, on a
broad table-rock, they found traces of the buffa-
lo, though none of the present year. They were
both armed with rifles and tomahawk ; and Par-
fin had in addition, a bow and arrows. They
had not proceeded far, when Henry, missing his
companion, looked round, and found that he had
killed a porcupine with his silent weapons. He
went back, and not without a feeling of respect
for his style of woodcraft, remarked the celerity
with which he cleaned the animal and hung it
up on the slender point of a bough, giving a mo-
mentary glance around as if to mark the place.
They then resumed their course, once or twice
thinking they caught a glimpse of a deer, and
again the crashing of some branches caused them
to prepare their arms ; but there was nothing to
be seen. There were several branches to be
crossed that joined and augmented the original
stream ; which, now much increased, bounded

136 ALTO WAN.

from rock to rock, or tore its foaming way over
or around the vast bowlders that were piled in
its course. Now letting themselves down ledges
of rock, now almost sliding down steep slopes,
occasionally catching by a pine branch to stop
their way, they at last found themselves at the
foot of the descent ; where the torrent, now swol-
len to a considerable size, takes its way across a
small flat, running between two lakes, and rush-
es foaming into the largest, which here, to meet
its chafing tributary, buries its head in the foun-
dations of the mountain ; while the lower end,
winding between bare heights covered with
blocks of granite, and sweet, though scanty herb-
age, is lost in its distant bend. They had de-
scended the right bank of the torrent, but the ap-
pearance of the opposite side presented that mix-
ture of indenture and open that promised a more
safe and roomy abode than the steep precipice
behind them. It only remained to cross the
stream, which, in consequence of its breadth and
depth, could only be accomplished upon a raft ;
— two dry logs, tied together with bark, served
to support them and their arms as they swung
across the deep and eddying pool. Safely on the
other bank, they were about to proceed east-
ward along the base of the mountain they had

ALTO WAX. 137

just descended. A huge perpendicular mass
stood on the right, and shaded the small valley
from the south, dividing the two lakes, between
the upper ends of which it lay, and shadowing
the narrow pass. It is only on occasions of flood
that any stream issues from the eastward lake
into the other ; and the space between is of the
most romantic wildness and seclusion, yet within
a short dash of the plain below. To an Indian
horse, accustomed to his own Petrea, where the
buffalo, the antelope, and the elk abound, such a
spot could not fail to afford some safe hiding-
place.

They were seated on a fallen tree that had
been hurled from the cliffs above, surveying, as
far as they could see through occasional opens,
the scene around. " Here, at least, we shall
be — " The sentence was interrupted by a merry
laugh close by. The blood ran back to both
their hearts as they sprung to their feet, and un-
certain, cocked their rifles. There was some-
thing so unlooked-for in the sound, in a place
where solitude appeared to have taken up its
abode, that the wildest shout of defiance, and the
rush of an ambush, would not have caused the
strange and doubtful dread which was produced
by that lone mirth close by, and no mortal visi-

138 ALTOWAN.

ble. The suspense was but momentary ; rising
before them, from some low bushes that seemed
scarcely of size to have covered him, appeared
a form strange and doubtful even to the practiced
eye of Parfin ; naked, but for a girdle and moc-
casins, and a piece of old blanket thrown over
the shoulders ; a youth whose browned skin would
have rendered it difficult to determine his race,
were it not for the long and curling brown hair,
and laughing blue eyes, in which there lurked a
strange wildness. He had a bow in his hand,
and at his back hung a quiver of arrows ; he con-
tinued a sort of inward laugh during the survey
he was undergoing ; which, however, appeared
to agitate Parfin with some emotion deeper than
curiosity or surprise. " Auguste !" he said, after
considerable hesitation. " Oui, c'est moi," an-
swered the apparition — for so it seemed to those
who thought him dead — and he ran off a little
distance, and returned with a saddle of venison.
" I don't hunt near my own lair," he said, with a
look of self-satisfaction. " What are you about
here ? we heard you were killed." " So I was,"
answered Auguste ; and again he laughed, and
flung the meat in the air, and catching it as it de-
scended, " I am not Auguste — I am the Cacajou.*

* The name the Canadian hunters give the wolverine.

ALTOWAN. 139

Where is Altowan ? I thought you belonged to
him ? I am a horse thief, and have two wives ;
you shall each have one while you stay."

In a manner always reckless and gay, there
appeared mingled now in poor Auguste some-
thing unsettled, which it was sad to witness in
one so universally beloved in the camps. Hen-
ry gazed doubtfully on, while Parfin learned by
various interrogatories, that some Snakes, to
whom he was known, having lost their horses,
were on their way to the mountains to lie in wait
for an opportunity of obtaining more; and had
been witness to the scene on Han's Fork from an
adjoining bush. Recovering the body, and pro-
ceeding to wring and dry the robe in which he
had been wrapped, they found that the water
had not penetrated, and that life was not extinct
— he having only fainted from pain and loss of
blood. They had tended and cured his wound,
and carried him with them to their present abode.
11 But you come and see," he added, " how we
live ; we keep no guard. I am just come from
the Chochocoes, where I have lost all my elk
teeth and beads ; but, if you give me some pow-
der and ball, I can get them back. Come," he
said, and shouldering his meat, to show they
should not starve, he moved onward toward

140 ALTO WAN.

the head of the smaller lake, overhung by tower-
ing cliffs on either side — the end washing a circu-
lar shore of decomposed particles of granite under
a fringe of quaking ash and green turf, where
bleached bones and drift-wood have been thrown
up to mark the height of the floods at the melt-
ing of the lower snows, when the waters find an
outlet through the plain to the larger expanse
below.

They followed their light-hearted guide toward
this shore, where the early sun of the morning
had almost passed behind its mid-day, to reappear
again from the ruddy west, noting the lapse of
time by a regular division of the day. They
wheeled suddenly to the right, passed over heaps
of dead wood and under living branches, and
found themselves suddenly in a sort of bower, so
constructed as to elude all observation. There
was a clear, cold spring at the door, and a small
pile of charred wood, to burn, if necessary, during
daylight, without smoke ; the floor was swept
clean, and two beds, placed at angles to each
other, formed the back of this singular abode.
At a little distance under the rock, two or three
dry trees, laid in the forks of others, formed a
horse-pen. All the system of their simple men-
age was easily explained. One squaw sat mend-

ALTOWAN. 141

ing a moccasin and humming a low air. Au-
guste, as he threw down the meat, gave her some
directions, which she appeared not to understand,
looking up and uttering the Snake Hacane !
which elicited a few French oaths at her stupid-
ity, accompanied by a more intelligible sign, that
he wished some meat cooked. The other squaw,
who was rolled up in a heap beneath her robe,
showed no sign of consciousness but by a dark,
sparkling eye, which peeped from below the cov-
ering. The one who had been addressed, took
no farther notice for a few seconds, and then
spoke to her partner in the not too sentimental
affections of Auguste, who, throwing off her cov-
ering, exhibited the scantily-clothed figure of a
girl of fifteen, with well-formed limbs, beautiful
hands and arms, and a roguish eye, half conceal-
ed by long eyelashes. Tying a band of fresh
bark round her brow, she immediately commen-
ced her culinary labors. Cutting up the meat on
a piece of skin placed upon her knees, she depos-
ited the disjointed ribs in a kettle, and replenish-
ing the fire, drew from among various packages
various dried fruits. Their contents consisted
of the kammas, which is of a sweet and glutinous
nature; the biscuit-root, tasting exactly like a
New York cracker newly baked ; some tobacco-

142 ALTO WAN.

root, wild potato, and service-berry, which, in fact,
is a dwarf pear of a sweet taste, and which,
when dried like the currants of Xante, forms the
most lasting luxury for an Indian dessert.

These, in portions, she set down on the unfur-
red side of a robe spread in front of one of the
beds. Auguste having, by dint of much search
in his possible-sack,* found a piece of tobacco as
large as a nutmeg, began to mingle a part of it,
scraped off, among the dried leaves of the dwarf
arbutus, which forms the principal ingredient of
Indian fumigation. It is rare that those who vol-
untarily live the life of savages, omit the smallest
part of the customs peculiar to their adopted
caste ; and poor Auguste was peculiarly careful to
neglect nothing of the Indian ceremonial. The
three pipefuls were smoked, and the eatables
began to claim their share of consideration.

Before they finished their meal, Auguste in-
formed them that he had moved from an abode
of greater security to the westward, in order to
be nearer the buffalo, when they should come, as
they had been driven off by a camp, the signs of
which they found a few days back, and which
had gone round toward the country of the Crows.
This evidently was an indirect question as to
* Name given by the mountain men to haversack.

ALTO WAN. 143

whether any information of its movements could
be obtained ; and Parfin told him at once that the
whites he alluded to, would be round the mount-
ain again in a few days. Parfin, knowing that
there could be nothing done by his host that
could in any way interfere with his own inter-
ests, answered frankly every question, and then
asked if their horses and mules would be safe
from the Chochocoes. Auguste, after learning
the spot where they were, vouched for their safe-
ty until they should meet some straggling In-
dians, when it would be better to move them into
some place more easily fortified. Having re-
fused all efforts to detain them, and even neglect-
ed sly glances of the ladies of the harem, when
the proposition was explained that they should
be left as hostages for the return of their lord —
who offered to inform Jasper of their delay —
Parfin and his companion retraced their way,
and Auguste returned from the bank of the tor-
rent to his secluded abode. He had informed
them that, should there be no buffalo on the plain
on the morrow, he should move to his other
camp, and leave his horse-pen and concealment
for his new friends.

It was late when they slowly wound their way
toward their silent camp. Jasper was not there ;

144 ALTO WAN.

and they had to make some search before they
found him, just returned from a survey from one
of those bare peaks which rear themselves above
the pines. He had seen nothing save a ram of
the Argali, who sprang across a green glade to-
ward his rocky home, equally wondering and
wondered at. The evening was cool, but calm ;
and though the valley and the plain below, were
already involved in the coming shadow of the
night, the ridge on which they lay, still borrowed
some of the lingering light, that far above, tinted
the snowy pinnacles. It was on the edge of the
precipice the three sat, each occupied by his own
thoughts — the spreading branches of the pine
above them in somber repose, and the expanse
beneath growing indistinct and dark. Not a
murmur was there among those boughs, habitu-
ally the dwelling of the howling tempest. It w r as
so still a night, that the ear might have caught
the sound of the footfall of the Indian or the
breath of the crouching panther ; such a calm
as invites the ear to listen rather than lulls it
with the confidence of repose. The moon had
not yet risen ; and the mules, full and drowsy,
stood the dusky images of sloth. At intervals
high in the middle air, there arose sounds like
the sighs of pent-up gales — now coming as if a

ALTOWAN. 145

breeze were sweeping over the chords of some
vast iEolian harp — now like a multitude of wings,
such as those of birds which, in their migrations,
obscure the heavens. Henrv, to whose woods-
man's ear the sounds seemed familiar, threw him-
self back, and gazed on the clear blue vault above ;
but not a speck was visible. It was a strange,
supernatural voice, and to a mind of romance
might have furnished food for high meditations,
though in him it produced but a desire to sleep
under influences of a nature more grand and in-
definable than he cared to examine. It was not
a sound sleep that Parfin enjoyed in his lofty-
eyrie ; once or twice he started up, as he thought
he heard something move in the neighborhood
of his bed ; but turning again, he yielded to that
heavy feeling which renders it so hard to watch,
even in moments of the extremest danger. The
dark form, the cause of that slight noise, had not
remained long inactive, but rolled again toward
the couch of Parfin, giving but one turn at a time,
and then, when he had ascertained that every
thing was quiet, another. It was impossible now
to approach nearer by the same means of move-
ment, as a rock, half emerged from the turf, in-
tervened. With head close to the ground, at
the end of this lay the naked figure of him whose
V0.1, I.— N

146 ALTO WAN.

every motion partook of the noiseless caution of
the tiger, with the tension of muscle and the per-
fect balance of one who knew that a flutter lost
him. He was now within reach of Parfin ; then
a breathless pause of examination succeeded, be-
fore his hand possessed itself of the horn and ball-
pouch of the sleeper ; but one part of the cord
of the powder-horn was under the arm, as if for
security, which also passed over the barrel of his
rifle. The knife of the unknown severed the
cord, and the horn and the pouch were in the
mouth of the retreating figure, which, with the
same caution, disappeared behind a tree. It was
there, that in the morning, the remains of the
ammunition were found ; the accouterments, con-
taining one ball and one charge of powder, hung
on a branch. Parfin had awoke first, let loose
the animals, gathered some of the embers of the
evening fire into a heap, and lit his pipe. He
sat musing until the first beam of the morning sun
touched the top of the Pilot Butte, far off in the
plain — the beacon of a prairie, where two vast
ranges of mountains bound the horizon ; and no
other guide is necessary to traverse the interven-
ing space. Still, unnecessary caution has given
this name to a table-shaped, isolated hill between,
the first to attract the horizontal rays that left, as

ALTOWAN. 147

yet, the lower objects around in the dull gray of
dawn.

It is rare that a hunter so long neglects his am-
munition. Parfin sought for his by his saddle,
where he had slept ; and then, for the first time,
perceived that it was gone. Awaking his com-
panions, who lay still dreaming in their mount-
ain bed, he gave an anxious look at the horses
as he continued his search. Perceiving that
something had disturbed him, Henry started up,
throwing off the covering from his murmuring
bed-fellow. They quickly examined their arms
and ammunition ; and as Parfin had been on the
outside of the three, his alone was touched. Just
as they had ascertained this, the missing articles
were found, and the extent of the loss ascertain-
ed. It was evident the theft was perpetrated by
some single person, and possibly was the result
of necessity. It was lucky, however, that the
other two had a plentiful supply ; and all that
caused them uneasiness was, that their retreat
should be known ; they therefore, without hesi-
tation, proceeded to arrange for their departure
for Auguste's camp.

148 ALTO WAN.

CHAPTER V.

It might have been about seven o'clock when
these three were in the little plain between the
lakes, and had already approached the harem
of Auguste ; but there was no bright eye to wel-
come — no fair hand to take the rein of their steed.
The fire was out, and scarce a vestige showed
that there had been a recent habitation. There
was something strange in this ; but they soon
fixed upon another spot on the opposite side, and
nearer the torrent they had crossed, where there
was a small shelf hollowed out in the hill-side.
A short ascent from the plain wound through a
thicket, and along a narrow ledge, commanded
by an open above. The spot contained sufficient
grass for a few days ; and, being a safe posi-
tion, it was now necessary to look out for some
meat, as their supplies were nearly exhausted.
Having carefully hobbled the horse and mules,
and drawn a dead tree across the road, they all
three sallied out to look from the opposite height
over the plains of the New Fork and Sandy, in
hopes of seeing some buffalo, as they preferred

ALTO WAN. 149

hunting in the open to the risk of meeting Dig-
gers while in search of elk or deer in the woods
and passes of the mountains.

Passing over the shoulder of the hill between
the two lakes, they came upon a piece of table-
land between it and another that juts more prom-
inently toward the south. This spot, strangely
wild and sequestered, is covered with beautiful
little ponds, set in the brightest verdure, and
shadowed by the tender foliage of the birch and
the quaking ash. It was scarcely the season for
the flies, that drive the elk and deer to these cool
and secluded baths ; yet, on passing near one, a
rush through the branches was heard on the op-
posite side, and a noble hart dashed away from
his lair. He was out of shot before they could
get a fair view of him ; and having then only his
hinder parts exposed, there was no shot fired,
as the hunter and the Indian ever look upon it
as wicked to wound an animal without a chance
of getting him. So he went his way, nostrils to
the wind, and the mighty beams of his head, al-
ready almost at their full growth, laid along his
back, while the hunters continued on toward that
point from which they expected to ascertain the
chance they had of getting meat that day. They
had not gone far before they saw a she-bear with

150 ALTOWAN.

two cubs, as large as wolves, which — proba-
bly startled by the elk, as the hunters kept the
leeward side of the plain, to avoid giving the wind
— fled over the ridge to their right, the old one
stopping now and then to gaze on the intruders.
" She is also gone," said Parfin. " It is strange,"
he added, "that no one has ever killed a she-bear
with young, although many have been examined
at the period that immediately precedes the drop-
ping of their young." " I have heard something
to the same effect," answered Henry ; " but it is
scarcely reasonable to suppose a bear to be dif-
ferent from all other animals of the class, with-
out proof; all that can be made out from the
general belief is, that there has been a most suc-
cessful concealment of pregnancy, which might
be a valuable hint in some places." Parfin look-
ed at his companion a moment : " Let it be con-
cealment, let it be deviation, it is strange ; but
here we are." They had got upon a stony ridge ;
and below them lay the same view as from their
last night's camp, only nearer, and less extended.
They sat long on those piles of stone, and gazed
into the distance. It was, at last, by a small col-
umn of dust that the eye was fixed upon a spot
where, after watching a dark shadow, hovering
like a cloud on the prairie, it gave unequivocal

ALTOWAN. 151

signs of u herd of buffalo moving in from the
southeast. A shout of joy broke from Henry.
Parfin remained to watch, and the other two
went back for their horses, which had to pass
along the larger lake, and then turn to the east-
ward, at the foot of the bute on which he sat.
The two bounded from block to block, and swung
from limb to limb, and never paused to rest until
they reached the little plain which they had to
cross before they mounted the ascent to their
own camp ; and in a short time Parfin saw them
coming briskly round the base of the bute.

The immovable gazer was then turned into the
fleet mountaineer ; and he sprung down the steep
side, over sharp and rugged rocks, with the un-
erring step of one to whom such paths are fa-
miliar. Henry resumed his horse, which he had
led, and Parfin was in an instant on his mule.
The calm, the consideration, the sloth w T ere all
gone. Meat to the hungry and sport to the rov-
er were at hand. The buffalo were really on
the move, and had made some progress toward
those who were so eager to meet them. On the
last height that intervened between them and the
plain, they paused beneath the brow, and riding
gently up, took a survey of the band, which cov-
ered half a mile in length, huddled as if from

152 ALTO WAN.

some general alarm. There is an indefinable
excitement on approaching one of these herds
unseen, waiting to burst from your concealment
and rush into the chase, with banner displayed.
The animals appeared recovered from their dis-
composure, and disposed to settle into tranquillity.
Some could be observed in combat, some rolling
in the dust, and the leading cow of the gang —
short of limb and shaggy like a bull — had low-
ered her head, and gave signs of browsing among
the short and tufted grass which is found among
the dwarf sage that covers the plains. It was a
moment of anxious suspense whether they would
approach nearer, as the westerly wind, eddying
among the low butes, prevented the hunters
making a circuit to cut them off. " Let us wait ;
they have too good a start for your mules," ob-
served Henry ; " and I want to make sure of that
cow ; the depouillie will be worth a race." The
horse, already winding the herd, stood with di-
lated nostrils and ears in continual movement,
sharing the suppressed emotion of his rider.
Parfin, after a silent survey of a few minutes,
exclaimed, with an oath, " They are off!" and
driving his long rowels almost to the head in
the flank of his mule, she darted round the end
of the little bute before the others, whose heads

ALTOWAN. 153

happened to be down, were aware of the cause
of this sudden movement; but impetus is easily
given to those ready for a start, and they were
by his side in a moment.

Something had alarmed the herd, and they
were gone in a direction which, in a ship, would
be called on a wind — keeping in a slanting di-
rection from the taint, without actually turning
away from the breeze. Already three quarters
of a mile distant, the pace of the hunters ought
to be greatly increased beyond that of the buffa-
lo, in order to gain sufficiently upon them to force
one out of the crowd, or, if possible, to dash into
the middle of the herd, and shoot down one too
closely packed in to get free scope for their full
speed, which is wonderful, considering the shape
and weight of the animal. Henry found it neces-
sary to let out his willing horse, in order to get
up to the herd. There had been no rain recently,
and the dust flew in a long cloud behind ; and
as he neared the flying animals, the small gravel
flew in his face like grape-shot, so that it was
necessary to change his course, and pass along
the side of the band toward the head, where the
cow he had singled out, still kept her position —
leading with apparent ease, the straining crowd
that followed. This change produced a corre-

154 ALTOWAN.

sponding alteration, of course, in her ; and as the
wind, now from the side, uncovered the band, he
was enabled better to watch her ; but in this op-
eration he had to run a much greater distance
than those on the other side, who had only a cut-
off to make in order to intercept the animals,
which had now taken the form of a long string
instead of a circular mass. There were two
or three shots fired from behind, but Henry did
not note the number. They had got into a rocky
and uneven space, running between two rivers,
where Parfin well remembered, that some years
before, a foreigner had killed his first cow in a
chase ; and where, his horse falling from the dan-
gerous inequality of the ground, one of the party
had nearly lost his life. He was now, however,
running clear of the herd, and not forced over
every thing by the band ; but one of those chasms
here came in the way which was much too broad
to leap, and again they headed to the right. It
was now Henry's turn to take the short cut ; and
he urged his horse to his speed ; the chasm end-
ed, and he was again thrown out ; but the ground
was now good, though a gradual descent, and
he, for the first time in his experience of buffalo
hunting, found that it pushed a good horse to
catch a cow in good condition, with plenty of

ALTOWAN. 155

room down hill. His horse was at his best speed ;
and though he thought himself approaching, it
was not so easily, as he had ran in a poorer cow
in a crowd. At last he saw by the turn of her
head, that she was becoming sensible of his gain,
and he shouted at the prospect of speedily ending
the chase. But his was not the only shout. Au-
guste, naked, the rein on his horse's neck, a coil
of cord in his hand, with his bow and arrows,
plying his short whip on the flank of his hardy
Indian steed — hitherto concealed by the dust —
suddenly appeared, a candidate for the same
prize. A feeling of rage, such as only the hunt-
er knows when crossed in his chase, came over
Henry ; and he shouted to his heedless rival that
he did not want his help, but wished to kill his
cow single-handed. Auguste laughed, and made
a sign to go on, taking to another cow that fol-
lowed next, which was separated from the herd,
and which he found alone. Henry was now
nearly abreast of the object of his pursuit, and
nearing her ; but she edged off at his approach,
and broke away in a direction after Auguste's.
It was now that he took the method which alone
succeeds with certainty in running a single cow,
unless you tire her out, and kill her at bay. He
ran his horse close behind her, and as he came

156 ALTO WAN.

up, reaching over his horse's head, broke her
back at the first shot, narrowly escaping a fall
over her as she sank in her track. He was
quickly down and reloading his gun, when Au-
guste again came up, and, getting on her back
as she lay, stabbed her in the side. " You have
yet to kill your cow ; come along," he said, as
he pointed to his own arrow sticking in her side,
which Henry had not before observed. He had
not seen either Auguste or her, for the dust, when
she had received this shot, and the ravine had
separated them afterward. His astonishment
therefore, was as great as his rage ; and it was
well for Auguste that he was mounted and out
of reach, still calling on Henry to follow him.
It was but a moment before a natural sense of
justice showed him that he was wrong, and that,
in fact, Auguste had as much right to be angry
with him for attempting to take the prize to which
he now saw he had the best right. While the
cow was still in the agonies of death, he again
mounted, and sped to catch up with a portion
of the band that were not yet out of reach. An-
other cow was singled out, which appeared to
be of equal speed, but, on being pressed, she was
lost in the center of the band.

Henry now, with his blood sufficiently heated,

ALTO WAN. 157

plunged into the thickest of the throng, jostling
some, bounding from others whose horns men-
aced his safety, against others equally dangerous ;
but still singling out the one on which his eye
had never winked, in all the dust and danger of
the melee. He was now by her side ; and as
he would have fired, she, unable to turn away,
sprang toward him, almost overthrowing his
horse, which just escaped being gored in the
charge. Turning to recover his position was a
matter of danger, as he had to cross several oth-
ers ; and there would have been an end of his
good horse and his hunting that day, had the
lunge of a huge bull, whose path he was attempt-
ing to cross, taken effect ; but another, of even
greater size, pushed on by the crowd behind,
came against his flank when rushing across his
course, and the two bulls rolled on the earth to-
gether, the horse clearing their prostrate bodies
before the others came up. Henry was now in
the wake of the cow ; and rushing up to her, he
fired so close as to burn the hair on her side.

The run had been a severe one, and Henry
pulled, up, satisfied that if he had not killed the
cow of his first choice, he had got one little infe-
rior. They were on the edge of a high preci-
pice, which forms the eastern side of a rapid

Vol. I.—

158 ALTOWAN

stream, flowing from the larger of the two lakes
we have mentioned as being near the camp of
these wanderers. The wounded cow staggered
over its edge with the clouds of dust and the dark
mass which plunged down the deep descent.
Henry pulled up on the brink ; and it was well
for him that he had delivered his shot when he
did. The band was broken, and dispersed in the
timber of the bottom, and he would, in all proba-
bility, have lost sight of the animal he pursued.
Below, near the edge of a thicket of cherry bush-
es and spruce, stood his victim, panting with
death-sickness, but turned to her foe, who de-
scended the steep by a slanting path. The eter-
nal Auguste was, however, upon him before he
reached the bottom, sliding his horse down the
side of the bank, too precipitous at that place to
descend in any other way. " Shall I finish her
for you?" he asked, his respect for Henry in-
creased from having seen him shoot down one
cow and stop another at single shots. Henry,
whose natural temper was good and generous,
nodded assent ; and Auguste had alighted, and
stole into the thicket, while the chafing animal
confronted her former pursuer, who good-natur-
edly advanced to attract her attention while the
operations of Auguste were going on. At last

ALTOWAN. 159

he emerged from behind her, with his belly on
the ground ; and while her head was turned the
other way, he waited his opportunity, and seiz-
ing her by the tail, cut one tendon, but failed in
severing the other before she threw him ofF, and
turned to charge into the bushes, where he had
been cast. Henry now made another advance,
the disabled animal making, at the same moment,
an ineffectual spring. Auguste again seized the
tail, and cut the remaining hock ; when, sinking
on her haunches, the exhausted victim became
an easy prey. Henry tied his horse to her horn,
and began the operation of butchering, which,
as he only took the fleeces and depouillies, was
not a tedious task. Fastening the meat across
his saddle, the ends hanging down on either side
and the tongue on the pommel, he took his way
in search of his companions. Parfin, who was
an expert butcher, with the help of Jasper, had
already taken the meat of one cow ; each had
killed one, and they were soon on their way up
the side of the Fork. Avoiding the sandy road
which runs along behind the fringe of trees that
borders the lake, they reached the head, and led
their animals up the steep ascent that conducted
to their retreat.

It is not to be supposed that there had been no

160 ALTOWAN.

discussion respecting Roallan during all this time,
the search after whom appeared to be thus so
readily abandoned. Henry had shown Parfin
that he could hardly have followed him from the
camp without having been seen ; nor could it
have been his object to shun a party, necessary
alike to guide his way and assist his project ;
and they had determined to remain out until the
camp should pass them on their way round the
mountain. But had Auguste again slipped from
their ken? and was he to be trusted? Henry
had some doubts ; Parfin, however, said they
must either quit that side of the mountain, or
take their chance — farther precautions were use-
less. Jasper had killed a worthless cow, but
claimed a fat one, which he could not find, though
he saw her fall. " That," said Parfin, " is one of
those who go over the hilt and die. It must be
good living on the side they go to !" The youth
had heard the expression in the camp, and cared
not to discuss the matter farther. It was re-
solved, before going to bed, to sally out next day,
after making a horse-pen, and search for Auguste
and the horde of Chochocoes.

By early dawn, several tall pines had been
felled, and the inclosure for the horses was com-
pleted. The roasts were taken from the fire ;

A LTD WAN. 101

and the delicious meat of the hump ribs furnished
them with a repast which, aided by the place, the
wild achievement, and the absence of care, was
eaten with a relish such as man nowhere else
enjoys. The table of short grass, fresh and clean,
that peradventure, had never before been trod-
den by human foot ; the crystal rill, the murmur
of falling waters, and the undying moan of the
winds in the forest shades, invited to quiet re-
pose and enjoyment. Around and below them,
lay the resources of the plains and the river, in
meat and fish ; every thing might be theirs that
necessity or luxury required — that the most far-
stretching desire might covet, or the most daring
enterprise obtain.

It is but seldom that the hunter of the Rocky
Mountains goes to any distance on foot. Even
the most rugged steeps are surmounted by the
goat-like horses of the country ; and those newly
brought from the settlements, by following a mule,
are soon taught to step from block to block along
the vast piles, which having, like avalanches,
slidden off the cliff above, encumber the slope of
the mountain side. Jasper was again left to his
own guardianship, as also the remaining mule ;
and they were to garrison the pen, should there
be any appearance of danger. The other two

162 ALTO WAN.

took their way over the rocky hill that lies to the
west of the greater lake, and descended into the
deep dell through whose shadows glides a small-
er stream, where even yet, notwithstanding the
ravages of trappers, the peeled willow (the sign
of beaver) floats in the dark pools. Up the left
bank of this they prosecuted their search for the
trail of those who, they naturally supposed, fre-
quented the best pass into this recess, which con-
tained another lake, whose sides are indented
with numerous coves and concealments. It was
in vain they searched its shores where accessible,
and scanned its steeps with careful gaze from be-
neath the clump of evergreens and aspen, where
they dismounted. A beaver lodge still exists on
the margin of the lake, and the marks of bears,
in digging for roots and insects, show that the
dense forest around is not uninhabited ; but there
was no trace of the presence of man. The dis-
tant glaciers shone over the nearer range, and
the lake lay still and dark behind the pine-clad
hill that lowers between it and the mid-day sun.
Lounging here was idle ; nothing showed itself,
and the opposite side of the lake is impassable
farther west than the wooded island. " It is a
pity to lose so much good meat for these dig-

ALTO WAN. 103

gers," observed Henry, as they turned to retrace
their way.

The horse-pen had been made with some care,
and was tolerably secure. They ate and slept,
and at dawn turned out their animals, and sat
down to their morning meal, each with his roast
before him, on his spit, stuck in the ground.

164 ALTOWAN.

CHAPTER VI.

About eight on the following morning, in a
small grove of aspen on the western border of
the larger lake, lying still to the west of the one
last mentioned, two men, who had just landed
from a small boat composed of raw bull-hide
stretched over a frame of willow, were sitting on
the grassy bank that marks the highest limits of
the waves, a broad margin of coarse sand inter-
vening, upon which might be traced a cougar's
track of no ancient date, the sole imprint it bore
since the washing of the latest storm. They
were apparently contemplating the mirror be-
fore them, in which the sublime landscape was
reversed, but scarcely appeared to reach the bot-
tom of the deep blue water. The two were about
of equal age ; both young, with scanty beards of
a month's date, fair long hair, blue eyes, straight
limbs, enveloped in leggins of white blanket, with
a broad fly on either side, being originally cut
as two oblong pieces, the seam along keeping
the shape of the limb, and the residue standing
out, forming what I have termed flies. These

ALTOWAN. 105

were supported by straps fastened to the waist-
belt, and the leather hunting-shirt covered the
intervening space. In these men were blended
the sun-burned skin of exposure with the ruddy
freshness of youth ; and there was no mistaking
the high and reckless bearing of the native of the
Western state, gradually removed from Europe-
anism as it has encroached upon Virginia, and
even Kentucky. It may be questioned if there
is another such race in the world as is to be found
in the State of Missouri — a people driven to the
bounds of cultivation, to be enabled to retain, as
long as possible, the free and simple manners of
their fathers. " We may chance to light on them
to-day, I think, and get some tobacco," said the
taller to his companion, after examining the sand
of the beach, and the branches on either side the
small opens that led through the fringe of cur-
rant, birch, and willow that lined the shore be-
tween the grove of aspen and the little bay. " It
must either be that, or some one will have to look
out for Dripp's people, when they come on to
open the cache ; but you think it best to take
them to the Kennion if we meet ?" " Yes," re-
plied the other, " we have but that, or to make a
raise by force. We can get what they have ; and
I am sure Parfin is never without a supply ; he

16G ALTO WAN.

is too much of an Indian to be caught without
tobacco, and vermilion, and a spare knife or two,
were he only out for a night. He is a strange
one, that Parfin," he added, after a moment's
pause. "No one knows what he is ; but his dark
skin never has deceived me ; he is no Indian
born." " I think he may be a Spaniard," rejoin-
ed his companion ; " but he knows the ways of
the Indians better than they do themselves, and
almost all the languages. You have heard he
was offered a thousand dollars as interpreter on
the Maria. Auguste says he has two 'green-
horns' with him, one a top-sawyer, and mules
which are only second to a first-rate horse. He
saw them all run the day before yesterday, when
he brought in the fat meat he cheated one of them
out of. Let us get the bull-boat ashore ; she is
grinding on the sand while we wait, and there
is no sinew to mend her, if she wears a hole
through one of her lean ribs." They approach-
ed the light barque, and their united effort hauled
it high and dry on the beach.

There was a buffalo path near, which led from
the lower end of the lake thus far along its west-
ern shore, and then took its course over the
heights through the woods and valleys, where
there is rich and quiet pasture, toward another

ALTO WAN. 107

lake ; but there is no passage farther along the
shore. Huge disjointed blocks of granite, or per-
pendicular cliffs, form headlands, between which
there are bays, until the waters are confined by
solid walls hundreds of feet high, which hang
over the upper and inaccessible part of the lake.
The path before mentioned, passes through the
little grove of aspen, where the slightest sound
might announce an approach, under which the
two hunters now laid themselves, and sank into
that state of quiet, partaking as much of watch-
fulness as repose. A single antelope passed along
the hill-side above, with a startled air. " They
are not far off," said one of the hunters, but with-
out even looking toward the path ; and, indeed,
it was not long before two men appeared, thread-
ing the narrow track between blocks of gran-
ite ; the one in front humming an Indian air, and
he behind, a ruddy youth, gazing with unaccus-
tomed eye upon the cliffs above, while his mule
followed the careful steps of the one before.
They were close upon the hunters, and had not
perceived them until one of them said, " I thought
Parfin had kept his eyes skinned to wear his
scalp so long in the Indian country." " I have
been always in luck to be caught napping only
by friends," was the reply. The two dismount-

168 ALTOWAN.

ed, let their mules loose with the ropes trailing,
and seated themselves by those already stretched
below the shade. There were many questions
Parfin wished to put, but he knew those he had
to deal with were out of tobacco, and that they
would expect the Indian custom to be adhered
to, of smoking before council. Notwithstanding
the effort made by both to conceal it, the furtive
glance at every motion of their companions be-
trayed their anxiety on this score ; and when, at
last, Parfin, as if by accident, laid hold of his to-
bacco sack, one of them actually began to strike
fire with the back of his butcher-knife and a flint
arrow-head he took from his pocket. With a
smile, Parfin produced the luxury desired, and
asked if they were out. " Not quite," was the
answer ; " one of the half-breeds has a piece of
an old pipe-stem, which makes tolerable good
smoking. You have come up with a new com-
pany, or have joined them, I hear," he rejoined
(a cloud of smoke issuing from his mouth), after
he had handed the pipe to his companion. " There
is a company come up, but I do not believe they
intend to stay in the country. Altowan and I
have been to look at them ; but the bourgeois has
gone off after a squaw, and this youth, who came
with him from the old country, is out in the hope

ALTO WAN. lt>9

of picking up some news of him. It is an ugly
chance, however." " Did you not hear," said
the shorter of the two, addressing his compan-
ion, " that some of the Flatheads and half-breeds
had gone across Lewis's Fork with a white stran-
ger V " There was such a report the other day,
but I scarcely believed it."

Jasper sprang from the spot where he had
thrown himself down at some little distance, and
approached the group, showing an interest in the
report which lighted up his round face with an
appearance of intelligence and animation. The
trapper looked at him with a smile, and said,
" You need not think to catch him, for all that ;
and the news I give, if true, is more likely to
prepare you to hear of his hair being raised, than
that there is a prospect of your finding him. He
was going the wrong road for safety for himself
or those who seek him." The other, who seem-
ed to have more reserve, added, " Have you hint-
ed what might be the cause of his journey to any
one ?" " We might have let Auguste understand
as much," was the reply. The trapper mused
in silence, and then asked if they were disposed
to go to their fort, which he described as a place
almost inaccessible. Parfin at once declared his
willingness. " You must send your mules to our

Vol. L— P

170 ALTO WAN.

park, where there is a guard, and where the
Chochocoes have never penetrated, and I will
take you by water to see the rest of the boys."
Parfin, who knew whatever happened regarding
the animals could be arranged from funds he had
at command, and, for the rest, having no doubt
of his personal safety and that of his companion,
acceded to this proposition, although there was
something of mystery in the events of the last
two days, which he thought savored of a gang
of freebooters. He rose however, without hesi-
tation, and prepared to embark with the taller,
whose name was White Jim ; while the other —
Will Brunt — prepared to lead off the two
mules.

Jasper would have remonstrated, but a sign
from Parfin prevented him ; and the power of
knowledge and experience in that country, more
than in any other, exerts its sway over the help-
less stranger to its ways. They leaped into the
boat as soon as it had been floated round to a
large stone that extended to the margin of the
deep water. Parfin took a paddle, and with
Jem, soon propelled the light skiff into the deep
blue water ; and shaping their course to the left,
round a headland, cut across a smaller bay, and
skirting a rugged and broken beach, came under

ALTOWAN. 171

the perpendicular cliff", that now bounded all that
could be seen of the upper part of the lake.

Not a word had hitherto been uttered. They
sat rapt in admiration of the scene, as the boat
glided over the dark and silent waters. The
Ospray once sailed over their heads, and once
again the Eagle took his majestic flight across
the narrowed sky ; there were no other signs of
life. Nearing the cliff that hung over them on
the left, they almost swept its base, the water
black as night. There was now a crack in the
rock, which seemed to be rent ; and formed, ap-
parently, a narrow passage, accessible by a little
cove with a gravelly landing, which was ob-
structed with shrubs and dwarf pines. An hour
of the sun at morning was all the ray that ever
cheered its gloom ; and that had passed, and left
it in shadow. They glided by, and there was
again the wall of overhanging granite, and the
distant peak of snow on the mountain far above
and beyond. They turned quickly to the left,
and found a second cove, larger than the first ;
and to a look from Parfin, his fellow-rower bent
his head in sign that they were here to land.
The boat was broached to on the sand, between
two great blocks, and they silently lifted it from
the water.

172 ALTO WAN.

The spot on which they were, seemed as if a
portion of the cliff' of about half an acre, in the
shape of a theatre, had sunk down, leaving all
the rock frowning around, without an outlet but
by the lake. There was a green sward, and a
few pines that would have appeared large in any
other situation ; but they were oppressed by the
greater features around, until they wore the look
of shrubs ; they were thinly scattered, and their
branches hung to the ground ; huge blocks of
rock lay scattered over the level space, and a
cool fountain bubbled over the slimy side of the
rock into a basin of gravel. On the left hand
several dead trees had been flung over from
above, to serve as fuel ; and at the farther end,
where grew a few pines more closely together
than the rest, there was a slight smoke, and meat
was hung up over the fire, on a scaffold, to dry.
The intruders had advanced some way with their
guide, and had leisure to observe what we have
noted of the place, before they were perceived.
The barking of a dog first gave notice of their
approach ; when, from various quarters, were
raised figures of strange appearance, some white,
some Indian, with a Spaniard or two, and a shriv-
eled old Canadian. The visitors were received
with the welcome that men give to any thing

ALTO WAN. 173

new in situations of seclusion, and under the in-
fluence of expectation ; and it was not long ere
the usual inquiries were commenced as to goods
having arrived, or any new company having
started. Dried meat was put before them ; and
one American, who had been a clerk in Cincin-
nati, asked if they had brought a newspaper.
Parfin, after looking at him, said to Jem, " He
will be your hunter, that politician, I reckon."
" Yes," answered Jem, with a smile. " Have
you heard of the party that went with Jacques
to the Utes ?" asked Parfin. " They have left
him ; they were mostly men who did not like to
be out of the buffalo country." " What, all ?"
" Yes ; I understand he has lost his good name,
and Cumarowa is tired of him." " We have
heard nothing of late," was the reply. " And
Jem Bridgee ?" " Oh ! we left him on Otter
Creek ; he's an animal that lights on his legs at
every cast ; he knows every creek in the mount-
ains, and can smell his way where he can't see it.
There has been a skirry or two about horses ;
but, except a man killed on the Yellow Stone,
and one drowned in crossing Lewis's Fork, they
have met with nothing particular. The blood
Indians are to have a thousand lodges on the
Horse Plains ; and I think we shall hear of some

174 ALTOWAN.

trouble before Jem leaves Salt River Valley to
come to rendezvous. There was some story
about Joe Knight being attacked when the trap-
pers were out of camp ; but I do not know the
right of it." " I did not hear of it," rejoined Par-
fin. " What did you learn ?" " Why, all we heard
was, that he was camp-keeper to some of the boys
who were out on some of the sources of the Mis-
souri above the Three Forks ; they had gone to
their traps, and he lay in his shanty abed, and
was awoke by something, looked out, and saw
a robe ! — broke, leaped into the river, body and
soul, and made a straight shirt-tail across the
prairie on the other side ! The Indians — if In-
dians there were — had been as much scared as
himself; and when the others came back, they
found nothing touched, and saddled up before Joe
came back, who said he believed he had scared
them very much, as he had cached within range."
" Well, and old Gabe is as obstinate as ever ?"
still inquired Parfin. " Oh, yes ; you heard of
John Dawkins telling him he had made a bad
encampment, commanded from a hill behind.
Gabe said it was as strong as a camp could be ;
he had chosen it on purpose. John rejoined that
he would take the works with an old gray stone.
Jem defied him ; John started up the hill, and

ALTOWAN. 175

rolled a huge rock down, which went through a

lodge, broke a gun, and if it had not been brought

up by a nest of kettles and a bale of meat, would

have killed a Canadian. Charley Town made a

song about it. Two of the lines were,

1 The rock rushed down with a mighty din,
And broke a gun and a Frenchman's shin.

Gabe went to his lodge and smoked, but had the
gun, and kettles, and the Frenchman put down
in the books to Dawkins's account. The French-
man was valued at ten dollars."

Par fin turned to the clerk, who had inquired
for news, and told him that Gabe and Louis Phil-
lippe had acted in the same way, only that the
French king, in his account against the Mexi-
cans, had valued the Frenchmen higher. The
old Canadian pricked up his ears, and Parfin
continued : " If you go to Mexico, look out, Bap-
tiste, or the French consul will have you killed
to swell his account ; you would be worth many
thousand dollars there." The old man's eyes
kindled, and he said something very grand in im-
perfect English ; the Spaniards laughed ; and as
wearing out a subject is not one of the defects
of mountain conversation, the matter dropped.
During the day, the boat came and went twice ;
and there was a supply of elk meat and argali,

176 ALTO WAN.

and the Indian children brought in some of those
beautiful red trout with which the lake abounds.
The sun had got round well to the west when
Will Brunt returned ; and, having had some con-
versation with a gigantic Canadian called Le
Due, accompanied White Jim to the borders of
the water, where they sat down. In the mean
time the feast went on — that continual eating
which takes place when there is plenty, by way
of indemnity, in advance for probable privation
to come.

The two squaws of Auguste were at their fire,
the prettiest of whom, wearing a more serious
air than when they last met, cast once or twice
her bright glance toward Parfin and his compan-
ion. On one occasion, when their dark lids were
raised, and her lustrous eyes were unveiled, Jas-
per found them fixed on his. The look was calm
and steadfast, and after a moment withdrawn.
There were several persons present, and none
could have noted any thing of intelligence in the
momentary gaze ; and yet there was that in it to
rivet the attention more than the most unequivo-
cal blandishments. That dark mask worn over
orbs living with expression has ever something
more remarkable in it than the most vivid anima-
tion. If Jasper had been fascinated with the joy-

ALTO WAN. 177

olis and almost inviting looks of the Indian girl
when he first arrived — if he had admired the
beautiful round limbs, and small feet, and taper
fingers — it was the transitory feeling of a sailor
boy, who had, during his short life, seen much
beauty in many different climes, where his ruddy
cheeks and sanguine temperament, procured him
the notice and caresses of the inhabitants of the
voluptuous South ; yet he had never experienced
the sensation, almost akin to fear, with which
his mind was now subdued by the wild creature
before him.

Most of the men lay on the ground near the
fire ; and, as we remarked before, there seemed
to be a separate communication between some
of them ; but, on the whole, the conversation,
though intermingled with oaths and imprecations,
was light and general. There was nothing low
or debased in these rangers of the sequestered
streams and recesses of the mountains. Long
abstinence from spirituous liquors and a short al-
lowance of tobacco created an impatient expec-
tation of the coming of supplies ; when, amid the
fumes of the medicine-pipe, they could also quaff
the forbidden spirit, and, while their credit might
last, indulge in bright dreams and mighty imag-
inations.

178 ALTOWAN.

It was toward evening, and but for the fires,
the spot in which they were shadowed would
have been cold as well as gloomy. By degrees,
the male part of the party had disappeared, and
a few Indians alone remained with old Baptiste
and the strangers. A man who carries his bed
on his saddle, and expects his horse to course
down the hart and the bison, for his amusement
or his support, may be supposed not to overload
himself with defenses from the cold ; so that Par-
fin was not sorry to see the squaws of Auguste
place, in addition to his blanket, a large robe of
a young bison bull by his saddle, as they were
losing sight of the last light of the sun, reflected
against a far-off eastern peak. Parfin was not
without distrust, as he was well aware that there
was no boat, and that they — the two new-com-
ers — were alone with a parcel of diggers of the
band of the bad Gauchee.* Placing, therefore,
his rifle by his side, and not pulling off his pow-
der-horn or ball-pouch, he laid himself down
with the appearance of repose, but with a spirit
oppressed by a sense of the helplessness of his
situation. " I have been in a worse strait, and

* A Chochocoe chief, whose band have been considered
bad Indians. They are mostly on foot ; and part of them in-
habit, occasionally, the valleys of the Mountains of the Winds.

ALTOWAN. 179

have, however, come through," he thought to
himself, as he tried to combat the fears which
he could not prevent from crowding upon him.
[t was too early for sleep, and he had lain down
to show his confidence, as well as to reflect on
his danger. Jasper was by the fire ; and as its
red gleam shone on his face, Parfin thought he
could perceive some symptoms of the anxious
attention with which he viewed the movements
of the two squaws of Auguste. At last the fire
began to wane, and Jasper reluctantly came to-
ward the shanty where lay his companion. The
Indians lay at some little distance, in suspicious
quiet, and all seemed hushed.

It was, perhaps, the end of the first watch,
though here they kept no guard. The wind,
which had been gradually rising, now blew strong
— at intervals chasing the white clouds from the
north, and sweeping in gusts over the heaving
lake ; and the moon had passed round, and left
the cove to the shadows of its frowning walls.
Jasper slept, and Parfin feigned to be buried in
repose, but anxiously watched for any movement
that might be made. A figure was approaching,
and his hand was on the pistol ; and though his
arm was thrown across his eyes, he could see
beneath. The figure neared, and he thought he

180 ALTO WAN.

could recognize the light form of Tona, the young
squaw of Auguste. She paused, and seemed at-
tentively to consider whether they slept, and then
passed round to the side on which Jasper lay.
It was now that Parfin felt assured that there
was some serious cause for alarm, as he heard
the distant hum of an Indian song slowly mur-
mured, but distinct, in which more voices than
one were joined ; and the Indian girl dropped
down as she heard the sound, and for a moment
lay as if undecided what to do — looking toward
the sleepers and then in the direction of the
sounds, until she appeared satisfied that they
were not heard. The covering of the shanty
had been previously raised on each side ; but
there was no movement visible, nor any sound
but that low and ill-omened song. Tona now
laid her hand gently on the arm of Jasper, and
he started on his elbow, but was restrained, if he
intended to utter his surprise, by a gesture of
caution. Drawing her finger across his fore-
head at the root of his hair, she pointed express-
ively to the quarter from which came, at inter-
vals, the low, dirge-like hum ; and without wait-
ing for any attempt to answer, she then made a
signal that she was going toward the lake, and
that they should follow. The look of Jasper, to

ALTO WAN. 181

see whether his companion slept, was answered
by a request to follow. Drawing herself along
the ground, the girl had got to the side of the
still slumbering embers of the fire ; and motion-
ing that they should take another direction, she
busied herself in heaping wood upon it, so as —
though obscuring it for a moment — it might blaze
up after a while.

They were, by different roads, now all three
moving, on their hands and knees, toward the
water — Parfin last, turning round at every few
paces to watch. There was a spot they had to
traverse that was perfectly bare ; and at one
point, looking from the Indian fires, persons mov-
ing over it would be seen against the lake.
The young guide, on coming to this bare space,
changed her direction, and the two fugitives here
joined her. She pointed to the fire, round which,
it might be supposed, several figures lay, though
only one was visible sitting ; but they had got
out of reach of the low sounds that thev had
heard, and crouched down to observe if nothing
stirred ; but all was quiet, and they crept to the
base of the cliff, and if not already observed, to
comparative security. Along the foot of the
rock, a short green sward and occasional gravel,
formed a path unobstructed by tree, or even shrub ;

Vol. I.— Q,

182 ALTOWAN.

and along this they moved swiftly, but with cau-
tious silence. They were now near where the
wall by which they were inclosed, ends in the
depths of the lakes ; but there was no boat. Par-
fin had quickened his pace to lay hold of Tona ;
but his ear was attracted by the sound of voices ;
and on looking back, he could perceive several
Indians moving round one of the fires. Tona
had also seen this appearance of commotion, and
she darted on to the brink of the water, closely
followed by her companions. There was hith-
erto something in the manner of the Indian girl
which had evinced composure and confidence ;
but now she was evidently hurried, and there
was scarcely time to remark the change before
they were upon the water's brink. A fey^ hur-
ried words and signs passed between her and
Parfin, and she plunged into the lake up to her
middle. Jasper, by a sign from his comrade,
followed. The ledge upon which they found
themselves ran along the base of the rock ; and,
by signs, Tona made Jasper understand that a de-
viation would plunge them into unknown depths.
It was but a short way that the water on the rock,
which served them for a footing, was so deep as
at the first entrance ; and as they followed the
uncertain path, which, like a low- water quay now

ALTO WAN. 183

covered, scarcely reached mid-leg, they were
obliged to steady themselves by the hand next
the rock, as, in many places, it shelved off so
suddenly as to make the footing uncertain.

We have before said, that though there was
a moon, it was too late to derive advantage from
it, and that side of the lake was in rapidly-deep-
ening shadow ; but there was a new danger, be-
sides the deep and agitated waters. Hearing
distinctly the sounds of those who searched, if
not pursued, they had proceeded upward of a
hundred yards — Jasper following, step by step,
the movements of Tona, and Parfin following
his — when a near and louder yell indicated that
the manner of their intended escape had been
discovered, and rendered necessary all the speed
which the doubtful nature of their path would per-
mit. They could already hear the words of their
pursuers over the roar of the surging waters ;
and Parfin had almost made up his mind that it
was better to stand and defend the pass along
the rocks than attempt farther flight, when he
found himself under a block of stone which ob-
structed their path. It was the barrier of an-
other haven. From the top, as he prepared to
slide down after those who had gone before, he
could also distinctly see Tona employed in at-

184 ALTO WAN.

tempting to move a bull-boat hauled up on the
beach. Jasper's aid and his own, when he got
down, soon effected this ; but there was no oar.
It was a desperate moment, and Tona at once
sunk under a feeling of despondency, when Par-
fin, taking her up in his arms, flung her into the
boat. A piece of drift-wood, grasped almost by
accident on the beach in shoving off the boat,
furnished a sort of paddle to one of the crew ;
but, regardless of all but the danger behind, they
launched out on the now stormy lake, while the
Indians were scarcely fifty paces from the spot.
There were at least a dozen of men, besides boys ;
and their yell rose high and shrill over the strife
of elements, as the dark mass was driven at a
short distance past them. "Paddle for your
lives," said Parfin, as he strained, with inefficient
means, to gain an offing. The wind was strong,
and the waves were breaking over the gunwale
of the skiff; and his two companions, leaning
down with each an arm over the side, tried to
make up for the want of paddles by plying the
strokes of their hands with redoubled velocity.
" Let him who fears not the deep nor the power
of the stranger, follow ; we have but one oar,
and the Snakes swim strong." " Yes ; and they
have sent one sure messenger," added Jasper, as

ALTO WAN. 185

Tona fell lifeless in the bottom of the boat; a
ball had struck her in the head ; and the survey
satisfied him that she was dead. A sign was
made by his companion that her body was to be
thrown over to lighten the filling boat ; but Jas-
per could not look on that sweet face, with all
its fire quenched, and commit her coldly to the
waters. A choking sensation came upon him ;
and though he had raised the lifeless form to
obey the sign, he could not prevent himself from
feeling a hesitation ; but hearing another shot,
and the expostulation of his comrade in danger,
he imprinted one kiss upon those lips that had
scarcely lost their smile, and heaved her into the
foaming waves. The frail barque rode somewhat
lighter, even from the loss of that slight form ;
but the arrows came in showers, and there was
a leak from a ball-hole, while every moment of
delay, within reach of so certain an aim, was to
be avoided. " Let her fill," was the answer of
Parfin ; but another shot-hole, and a moment
must be spent to stop them, or they would have
to swim, and lose their arms, even if they saved
their lives. A piece of a hunting-shirt was cram-
med into each ; and again the hands of Jasper
followed each other's strokes on the side farthest
from danger, and Parfin, at the starboard bow,

186 ALTOWAN.

attempted to guide her away from the shore they
had quitted.

A gust, stronger than before, now drove the
filling boat down the lake ; but there were no
more reports of firearms. If arrows were sent
after them, they no longer arrived ; and they
drove along over the maddening waves. Their
attention, before directed to saving themselves
from other dangers, was now required to bail
out the water that the continually-breaking waves
sent over the sides of the boat ; but the wind
was less violent as the space became less con-
fined, and they hailed with delight the headland
they were driving upon, near where they had
first embarked in the morning. It was rounded
with involuntary speed, and the moon shone
through the trees on the yellow sand, where,
luckily, the wind seemed inclined to throw them.
Crouching on their feet, ready for a spring, with
their arms in their hands, they leaped out as the
boat touched, and bounded through the surf.
" We are safe till morning, when they will get a
boat or raft. I think it is too cold and too far to
swim, and they could not carry any arms ; so,
once more, I trust we are safe," said Parfin, giv-
ing vent to his thoughts in a sort of soliloquy.
Time was not to be lost, however, in idle mus-

ALTOWAN. 187

ings. The blanket that each had carried, though
wet, would still afford some covering ; and heap-
ed twigs of the birch and pine would form a ready
and perfumed couch. Their sad.dles remained
where they had been left, and midnight found
them buried in sleep.

188 ALTOWAN.

CHAPTER VII.

Mean while a scene of another kind had taken
place at the high and secluded plain where the
horses of the party were kept, and where the
mules of their visitors had been taken. Contrary
to custom and prudence, the w r hites, with whom
was Auguste, slept at some distance from the
horses, in a small fort, which was in perfect pres-
ervation, and had been used, as its construction
indicated, by some party of Blackfeet on a recent
expedition.

Two Sandwich Islanders, who had been se-
duced from their home, and were treated like
slaves, were left to guard the horse-pen, and to
give an alarm if attacked, while the fire of the
white men blazed in the obscure recess of an ad-
joining rock, and was loaded with kettles of meat,
and surrounded by roasts, fruits of the yester-
day's hunt. A few beaver-skins, stretched on
hoops, hung on the neighboring trees ; and an In-
dian lodge had been laid down as a couch, under
the shelter of one of the overhanging sides. It
appeared from the conversation, that they were

ALTOWAN. 189

all to proceed next day to " make a raise," as
they termed it, on the stranger camp, where
their debts to others would be unknown, and the
few beaver they had, would serve as an earnest
of the produce of the fall hunt, which they pro-
posed to mortgage. Parfin, who knew them, it
was their intention to leave in the Indian hiding-
place ; and having removed his mules, they were
not to be returned until too late for him to inter-
rupt their negotiations with Stay.

All this being in train, and their hopes high,
they supped in all the glee of dazzling prospects?
and expected revel, and laid themselves down to
rest; those who had squaws promising them
bright ornaments, and the means of indulging in
gambling — the only passion to which they give
unlimited sway — while the unusual blandishments
and caresses which the women lavished on their
lords, showed that it was a part of their system
to impress upon them how much the charms of
their connection were to be enhanced by liber-
ality. Their round, bronze arms, were thrown
around the white necks of their mates ; and their
eyes, usually turned down, were directed, in wan-
ton brilliancy, in search of a returning glance.

It was scarcely dawn, but a faint streak from
the height on which the fort was placed might

190 ALTOWAN.

be distingmsned on the eastern horizon, when a
figure of doubtful appearance, crept from beneath
the low portal of the fort, and crouching for a
moment, to watch if it had been observed, again
proceeded toward an adjoining thicket, with
noiseless and stealthy pace. It was not long ere
it appeared before the sleeping horse-guards ;
and a moment's survey might satisfy any one
they slept. The figure passed on, and, letting
down a tree that had been placed in two forks
across the gap, to serve as a gate, entered the
inclosure where the horses had been confined for
the night. After a short search, the two mules
from Stay's camp were selected, and ropes hav-
ing been put in their mouths, were quietly led
out, and the barrier replaced. The noise how-
ever, that was made by those which remained, in
token of their desire to be released, had roused
the Islanders, and they were at the gate as a tall
figure appeared in the act of opening it. He was
questioned about letting out the horses, and an-
swered that the strangers had taken out their
mules, and the whites would not start till late ;
so he was sent to let the animals feed a short time
before catching up. The guards acquiesced, and
Le Due — for it was he — mounting one of the
horses, followed the band toward the meadow

ALTOWAN. 191

on which they were wont to pasture, rushing
them down the hill, and swinging his lasso over
his head. Easily believing that he would take
their duty from them for a time, the Cannackers,
as they were commonly called, set themselves
quietly about reviving their fire ; and shaking
the dust of various bags into their pipes, and
rolling themselves in their robes, laid down to
enjoy a little ease and warmth, to which their
life of drudgery made them almost a stranger.
It was not long, however, to be uninterrupted,
as some two or three of the freemen came to in-
quire what they did there, and why they were
not with the band. They answered that they
had got the big white man to take care of the
animals while they lighted their fire, and that as
soon as they had eaten something, they would
go down and relieve him. The two men who
had come up with the intention of starting before
the rest, looked at each other, but neither spoke.
In a moment after, as if actuated by the same
alarm, they hurried down through the thinly-
scattered trees, and stood on the rich plain where
they had hoped to find the baggage-animals and
the running-horses, which were the pick of the
mountains, and rendered this little company of
free trappers the most independent, as well as

192 ALTOWAN.

the richest men of their class in the wide regions
in which they roamed. There were nearly forty
coursers, besides mules of great speed and beau-
ty, that they had last night counted in their pride,
all with shining coats and lofty crests. They
had prepared yellow and red clays to paint them
on their progress to meet the stranger camp.
The bridles had been ornamented with embroid-
ered porcupine and beads ; the gay housings had
been prepared ; and the eagle's feathers had been
placed in the tails of the swiftest steeds, in token
that in the chase, it was the only mark that could
be seen by the crowd behind.

There was a deep brook that wound through
that small plain, whose sluggish waters were oc-
casionally dammed up by barriers of gravel, over
which it brawled its way to fall into a lower
level. Mechanically they walked to one of these,
where fresh tracks on the frosty grass showed
them that the band had passed. The trail here
collected, and the crossing was marked by signs
of crowding and speed ; the turf was cut up,
and the tracks now appeared to bear toward the
opening to the lower country. The men pushed
on, still amid confirming signs of flight, till they
stood upon a brink from whence a more extens-
ive view of the smaller hills and slopes below,

ALTOWAN. 193

might be obtained. The sun was rising, and
there was light to see whatever might be mov-
ing within the range of the eye ; but there were
no signs of life, and there even appeared an un-
wonted stillness in all around. They had paused
some time, not willing yet to believe that they
were desolate ; but a distant shout, and a mo-
mentary view of a band of animals passing over
a height, with the sun shining on their backs,
confirmed their worst fears ; for those they saw
were speeding over the rugged path that leads
toward the country of the Blackfeet.

Meanwhile Auguste, respecting the character
of guest in Parfin and Jasper, had carried off
their mules to a place of safety ; he had taken
from them what powder he required during a
previous night, and also some tobacco ; and thus
he considered them under his protection, and, by
means of watching, discovered that Le Due was
in communication with some strange Indians
lurking in the neighborhood, with whom, in fact,
he had arrived the day before.

Parfin and his companion were slowly tracing
the steps of the mules which had been taken
from them the day before ; the trail was diffi-
cult, but, the line having been made out, they
had only then to proceed to the most evident

Vol. I.— R

194 ALTOWAN.

passes round the shoulder of the hill they were
under, and there, in the softer places, look again.
They were proceeding with this intent, when
they perceived Auguste coming toward them,
with his wonted light step, stumbling over the
bushes and rocks that lay in his way. Accost-
ing them, he offered to guide them to the place
where their mules had been taken. It was in a
small valley, the entrance to which was almost
impervious. They sat down, and Auguste, as
on a former occasion, gave them the hint they
required, by lighting a match of tow and prepar-
ing his pipe. He had given away all the tobac-
co he had received before, and awaited, with his
cunning smile, a fresh supply. They had smoked
a pipe before Parfin thought it time to tell him of
the loss of his favorite young wife.

There is something more than commonly af-
fecting in the change from reckless gayety to
grief; the lines of unwonted thought and sad-
ness, sit ill where smiles have hitherto dimpled
the rounded cheek and beamed from the laugh-
ing eye. The feelings of poor Auguste, so rarely
reached by misfortune or saddened by care, were
wounded to the quick by the loss of his light-
hearted Tona. He told Parfin to make the best
of his way to the camp ; and, making a sign that

ALTO WAN. • 195

he was not to be followed, disappeared through
the tangled boughs of an adjoining thicket. It
was afterward known that he — who, according
to his own phrase, " had not sense to be a cow-
ard" — wandered about alone for many days,
shedding tears and lamenting aloud his loss.

The earth, says the Indian, receives gratefully
the tear dropped on its bosom in sorrow for the
departure of one of her children ; and the brav-
est are not ashamed to wail aloud for the loss
of those whom they have loved. At night the
forlorn youth, when driven by hunger, came to
the camp of the trappers, and took what he want-
ed of their meat; and being known to the few
dogs they had, was never disturbed by them ;
but his reason, before shaken by the affair of
Idalie, was now much impaired ; and when he
came to rendezvous, he went about almost un-
heeded, gambling and shooting at a mark with
the youths of the Chochocoes.

19G ALTOWAN.

CHAPTER VIII.

There are two ranges of mountains, a long
day's ride apart, through which Wind River
forces itself in a northern direction, not in the
usual form of a valley, but right across each,
through a chasm in some places of a thousand
feet in perpendicular height. The first of these
forms the northern boundary of the valley where
we left the camp of Roallan, in a former chapter ;
and the second, much higher and more rugged,
is the last mountain scenery on its far-flowing
waters. The last tributary it receives, just be-
fore entering the chasm by which it passes the
second range, is called Stinking River, from its
having burst its banks on the breaking up of the
ice, and brought down whole herds of buffalo,
and deposited them on islands and wood-rifts —
polluting the air of the valley for the whole sea-
son with their putrid remains. It was on this
river, after having crossed it a mile from its
mouth, that we again find Altowan, accompa-
nied by Pinatsi. There had been daylight for
the crossing ; and among the fallen timber, which

ALTOWAN. 197

every where encumbers its banks, and marks the
situation of former camps and horse-pens, they
stopped for the sake of repose. Their horses, of
which each had two, appeared fagged with trav-
el ; and their riders wore an air of more serious-
ness, if not gloom, than we have heretofore ob-
served. After hoppling their horses, they each
proceeded on foot to reconnoiter the neighbor-
hood ; where, judging from the trail they had fol-
lowed, they expected to find the stopping-place
of the party they followed.

We have already mentioned that Watoe had
made some communication to Altowan, which
induced him to leave the lodge of Roallan. On
the brink of the river he perceived a figure,
which, upon approaching, he found to be the
Ree squaw, who, leaping down the broken bank,
placed herself on a fragment of turf and soil
which lay under it, on the edge of the water.
A short conversation might have been held by
those who know the same language, without the
appearance of secrecy ; but the Ree understood
the Blackfoot but imperfectly, and it was, there-
fore, necessary to be more at ease, and out of
the way of observation. It appeared from what
Altowan could learn, that actuated by some hid-
den cause, she wished to inform him that there

198 ALTOWAN.

was a plan for carrying off Idalie by the Elk-
head, and to advise him not to take the trail of
the rest of the party, but to meet them at the
Yellow Stone Lake. The information was giv-
en in such a way as to lead Altowan to doubt
its truth, and disregard the warning. Giving
her the blanket he had thrown over his shoul-
ders, he thanked her, and contented himself with
watching in the neighborhood of her shanty all
night. It was his intention to have informed
Montalt on the evening following ; but her own
movements threw her in the way of danger be-
fore he thought it worth while to warn her of it ;
and the information of the Ree having thus far
proved correct, and some circumstances coming
to his memory to account for her evident desire
to thwart the carrying off of Idalie, he put suffi-
cient faith in the rest, to follow on the Crow trail
toward the Big-horn River, and allowed Roallan
and Montalt to take that of the Blackfoot party.
Having followed the traces of the Crows
across the first range, they were found to cross
the river immediately after the last rocks, about
fifteen miles from where we now find them, on
Stinking River ; but, by a diligent search, the
tracks of a few horses were discovered to have
come out again, a little lower down, and it had

ALTO WAN. 199

not been difficult to trace them on. They now
separated, to hunt for the signs by which they
hoped to ascertain who had passed, and how
far they were ahead. In a direction down the
stream, Pinatsi proceeded to hunt among the
buffalo bushes for the appearances of recent
foot-tracks or traces of an encampment, but in
vain ; and he was about returning, when a rush
and crash of branches brought his wandering
thoughts home to a feeling of personal danger.
For a moment it was impossible to ascertain the
nature or direction of the sound ; and before he
had time to recover from his surprise, a huge
bear, of w r hat is called the grizzly species, had
bounded out into the open, and rising for a mo-
ment on his hind legs, regarded the intruder,
who leveled his rifle ; but, having been wet in
crossing the river, it missed fire. There was
not a moment to lose. This ferocious animal oft-
en attacks men unprovoked ; and his strength
and tenacity of life are almost incredible : but
by a wise ordination of Providence, he is un-
able to climb; and thus have the lives of those
who roam in the same regions, often been pre-
served, when the best arms and the most danger-
ous wounds, have failed to produce a disabling
effect. Pinatsi had hardly time to throw his gun

200 ALTO WAN.

into a thick bush of willow, and gain a sufficient
height to be out of reach, when his pursuer was
at the foot of the small tree he had ascended,
foaming with rage, and threatening to tear it up
by the roots.

The rage of such an animal within a few feet,
inspires a creeping terror in the bravest, although
conscious of safety ; and Pinatsi experienced a
sensation of dread, not altogether unreasonable,
considering the frailty of his support and the ef-
forts of his terrible foe. He had remained in
this situation for some time, and the sun was fast
sinking behind the distant hills, when a sudden
turn of the head and look of alarm, indicated
that the animal smelled something in the even-
ing breeze to divert his attention, if not excite
his terror. For a few seconds he snuffed the air
with uncertainty ; and then, turning abruptly, fled
with his peculiar long bound, looking behind as
he swayed from side to side in his retreat, until
he plunged into the thick buffalo bushes that
bound the glade, where he had hardly disap-
peared before Altowan emerged from the oppo-
site side. It was his wind that had delivered his
friend. The bear, like all other wild animals,
has an instinctive dread of a concealed foe ; and
though he has been known to come into the mid-

ALTO WAN, 201

die of a camp, and carry off a man from the fire,
he will on all occasions fly from the scent of one
who is concealed from his sight. There was an
expression of surprise, succeeded by a smile, that
for a moment lighted up the dark eyes of Alto-
wan, as he saw his faithful friend perched in the
tree before him ; but he comprehended the cause.
" You might have fired," he said, " without awak-
ening any thing." " If my gun had gone off,"
was the reply. " But he has not been prowling
here for nothing ; we will find something among
these bushes." They cautiously entered where
there seemed no indication of an open ; but pro-
ceeding on, they at last discovered, amid almost
impervious boughs, a small, round space, where
the fire of a few hours previous still burned, and
the grass was eaten close, and the horse tracks
were still fresh. "We must to horse again,"
said Alto wan ; " we may catch them at the foot
of the pass ;" and they proceeded to catch up
and saddle their horses.

The distance was not great, and the moon yet
young. There were but two roads across the
mountains, and Altowan decided to take the one
to the right, as on it there is good grass and
camping to the very base ; while the other is a
waste of dark, ashy dust, and rocks of hopeless

202 ALTO WAN.

sterility. They had proceeded until they found
a small stream that issues from the foot of the
pass and winds toward the river. Between its
shrubby banks, at about half a mile from the foot
of the rocks, they again tied their horses to pick-
ets, in the most concealed spot they could find.

The night was perfectly calm, and the little
stream ran clear at their feet, lingering in self-
formed pools, where it had not been obstructed
by the now untenanted dams of the beaver.
The spirit of the mountain, however, slept not ;
and his mighty voice might be heard in the
mournful but distant blast. There was the so-
lemnity of stillness amid the grandest objects of
nature ; and there was in the hearts of the two,
a feeling in unison with it. An affection which
had colored the life of Altowan, led him to the
most desperate efforts to regain its object ; and
all the love of a sworn brother, carried on his
companion in his career; but the undertaking
was full of risk to its fair object, as well as of
danger to those who would attempt her recap-
ture. The pause was that which precedes the
desperate and the mighty deed in man, and the
storm and convulsion in nature. Overmatched
in numbers and equalled in skill, an open attack
was, for every reason, to be avoided ; and the

ALTO WAN. 203

anxiety that crowded the brow of the lover, was
caused by the difficulty of parting from his friend,
and encountering the hazard of the undertaking
alone.

Contemplating the best means of breaking his
intention to Pinatsi, he had sat for some time in
gloomy abstraction, when the sharp cry of the
medicine wolf* pierced the surrounding gloom
with its ominous notes. " Hark ! it comes again,"
cried Altowan, as he started on his feet. " Pi-
natsi, I must alone to this exploit ; by force we
can do nothing ; but I may be able to find a way
alone, where two would be discovered. If you
can be of use, I will come back and let you
know ;" and, without seeming to notice the
downcast look of the young half-breed, he took
his course toward the mountain's base. The
little stream maintained its meandering charac-
ter ; and the heights, which opened from its im-
mediate banks and merged into the prairie be-
low, began here to contract and increase in
height. It was from one of these that Altowan
hoped to discover the fire of the party he sought ;
but he mounted several without success. At last

* A small species of wolf, whose solitary voice during the
night, is held to be of evil omen among the Indians, as well as
trappers of the mountains.

204 ALTO WAN.

he thought he could perceive a light reflected
on a rock where the road leaves the stream and
takes a course up an uneven and steep ascent to
the left. It was necessary now to proceed with
great caution, it being so clear as to enable any-
one to be seen distinctly on the open ground,
while there was no reason to suppose that those
on whose trail he was, were in a mood to relax
their usual watchfulness ; and a ball or an arrow,
might be the first intimation of their knowledge
of his approach. He therefore descended to the
channel of the stream, ready to take advantage
of its small, gurgling sound to hide any noise he
might himself create ; and also to screen himself
under the shadow of its banks or the foliage of
their sides, in his approach. He had thus pro-
ceeded for some time, and the sound of voices
indicated that he was very near, when he found
the willows, which had hitherto garnished the
stream, terminated, and were followed by a plain
open space, where there was a buffalo crossing.
Altowan now paused. The ill-omened wolf
had given a fatal presage of misfortune or disap-
pointment. It was not with the usual joy he felt
in rushing into strife that he silently prepared
for what might be his death-struggle. It was
not now as when his head was high among the

ALTO WAN. 205

sternest warriors of his camp, and his long hair
waved in their battles. He was stealing on
those he would rather have met face to face ;
and that ill-boding voice hung upon his thoughts
as he examined if his pistols were in order, and
disposed them for greater facility in making his
approach. The tomahawk and the knife were
then adjusted ; and, for the first time for many
years, he thought of the religion of his early
days, and made the sign of the cross. A strange
and checkered past — an uncertain future — sup-
plied him with distracting thoughts ; and it was
not until a piece of clay from the bank fell into
the water with a sudden plunge, that he was
aware his thoughts were far from his pres-
ent adventure, and that he was nearing a scene
where all his mental and physical powers would
be required. He had passed the open, and the
willows again grew thick on one side, and the
sage bushes of the opposite bank were high
enough for shelter ; and he could distinguish
sounds not far off. It was, therefore, necessary
to decide on a course, and not loiter in the open.
Altowan bounded across the stream, and in a
moment was under the shelter of the bushes on
the bank, among which he could proceed to re-
connoiter the position of the camp without prob-
Vol. I.— S

206 ALTO WAN.

able danger of discovery. His progress was
not interrupted by any thing worthy of remark,
until he came to a point where the bank ap-
proaches the water in the shape of a promonto-
ry, nearly opposite where he supposed the camp
to be. He advanced, and still found the brush-
wood between him and the light ; but the emi-
nence he was on, gave him an opportunity of
seeing several horses and some shadows reflect-
ed beyond. The number seemed to be greater
than he expected ; and the sounds, those which
were not consistent with the habits of the party
of which he was in search. There was a chill
that ran through his heart as these indications
of his being on a wrong trail struck him. Few
men had more constitutional courage, and few
possessed so perfect a command of nerve, either
in danger or surprise ; but the sickness of heart
that came over him now, brought him to a state
of feeling which called for a rally. Desperate
as would have been the attempt, had she been
there, he could not have considered her out of
reach of recovery ; but the probable distance
and the time he had lost, were insurmountable
difficulties to his overtaking the fugitives on a
nearly directly opposite course before they ar-
rived at the Pagan* village.

* Pagan is one of the tribes of the Blackfoot nation

ALTO WAN. 207

The feeling of bitter disappointment is rarely
nice in the choice of its vengeance, and that of
Altowan was quickened by the belief that the
party before him was of the Crow nation. He
therefore, determined to leave upon them his
mark ; and descending abruptly the point from
which he had reconnoitered the light, he crossed
the stream considerably above where he had
perceived the fire, crawling down the bank be-
tween where it forms a narrow ledge over the
water, and the higher and thicker brushwood
which was between him and the now distinct
sound of the voices in the camp. The thicket
continued until it was easy to distinguish that
the language used was Crow ; and it was evi-
dent that there was a debate of some matter on
hand, from there being but one voice now to be
heard ; whereas before, he had remarked some-
thing like clamor. He had now to penetrate
but a short space to be able to see what was
going on beyond. The stealthy crawl of the In-
dian, and his inflexible nerve in such situations,
are instances of the dominion of habit over the
senses, that are almost incredible. The broken
sticks, the dry leaf, the rustling branch, and the
sharp thorn that would betray another, are in-
stinctively avoided ; and Altowan arrived where

208 ALTO WAN.

but a stunted bush obstructed his view of the
scene which was taking place around a fire,
where some eight or ten Indians were seated,
and of whom the gradual insertion of his head
into its foliage gave him a view.

Apart from the rest, sat one with his back to-
ward him, and near him were two armed guards ;
beyond him also appeared another, both with a
dejected and sullen air ; but a motion around the
fire drew his attention from them. A leader ap-
parently, of the discussion, if not of the party,
rose, and approaching the two, who appeared to
be prisoners, invited them to smoke. The invita-
tion was however, unheeded ; and a stern look
was all that appeared for answer. But the gleam
of the fire, as it shone on that head, showed the
features of the Blackfoot partisan. The truth
now flashed upon Alto wan. They had just been
surprised and made prisoners in their camp, by
a party of Crows who had seen their fire. Dis-
armed, the two men sat apart during the coun-
cil on their fate ; and the eye of Alto wan again
moved round, as far as the limited view of the
scene would permit, in search of what had more
interest for him. The noise he incautiously made
to have a better view, attracted the attention of
a figure he had not before seen, wrapped up in

ALTO WAN. 209

a robe, and resembling a bundle. It had scarce-
ly attracted his notice in the first survey ; but
the attention of the Indian, whoever he might
be, had been awakened by his unguarded move-
ment, and he lay watching his bush with the eye
and the crouch of the panther. It is impossible
to describe the contending feelings of Altowan ;
but he determined to keep his ground, and by
complete stillness, lull the suspicions which seem
ed to be raised in his observer. The interest ex-
cited by what was going on, served to fix and
steady his gaze. The Crows who had occupied
the part of the circle nearest the Elkhead, moved
out, so as to throw the light full upon the pris-
oners, whose countenances were tranquil; and
there was even a look of triumph in their ex-
pression, but ill suited to a disappointed expe-
dition and probable death. Two guards were
on each side of them ; and they were again invit-
ed to smoke. The Blackfoot partisan was oc-
cupied in arranging his long raven tresses, as,
with an air of disdainful calm, he addressed the
leader of the Crows : " You can not take it in
war ; you must crawl like the snake, and over-
power the Blackfoot with numbers. See ! I have
prepared my scalp; it will make you a chief, and
hang in your lodge till my brothers come !" He

210 ALTO WAN.

ceased speaking, and the flash of two guns was
instantly followed by their reports ; and the cloud
of smoke that for a moment obscured them, clear-
ed away slowly by the night breeze, and left the
one drooping under the pangs of death ; but the
Elkhead, yet bearing up his form against the
ebbing tide, fixed his gaze still on those before
him ; but its expression waned, for a moment
faltered, and his head drooped to rise no more.
As soon as the eye lowered from their regard,
the Crow rushed forward and seized the hair.

Altowan had bounded on his feet, unmindful
of odds, to sacrifice some one to accompany his
former companions in the journey they were
about to take to their distant hunting grounds ;
but he had forgot that, though the attention of all
round the fire was absorbed, there lay an un-
sleeping guard close by. The tomahawk, the
most silent mode of dispatch, already flourished
in his hand ; but it was the face of Watoe. Two
signs, and he was again in concealment. The
operation of scalping his former companions, still
occupied the Crows. Idalie lay by the fire,
bound. The knife of Altowan was thrown to
Watoe, who fixing it between his knees, cut the
thongs that confined his wrists, then those that
secured his legs, and threw it, with the precision

ALTO WAN. 211

of an arrow, to Idalie. Although Watoe had
been left at some little distance, for some reason
best known to themselves, the beauty of Idalie
had rendered her a prize of moment to the sav-
ages, and caused her to be placed close under
their eye.

The difficulty of getting away seemed rather
to increase as the excitement from the death of
the two men subsided ; and Altowan, had not
Idalie been there, would have rushed to the res-
cue of the Elkhead ; but the stake was more
than his own life ; and that caution which is
sometimes mistaken for fear, now held back him
whose reckless daring had ever been the theme
of wonder among the Indian camps. He was,
in fact, paralyzed ; and the idea of returning
without success, and losing all he had valued
upon earth, was too overpowering a thought to
be calmly entertained. All or nothing, were the
alternatives. The horses of the party, of which
there were but six, including those which had
been taken by the Crows, were picketed on the
side next the rock that bounded the upper part
of the small plain in which they were ; and the
fire occupied its lower extremity. To create an
alarm, would put the party on their guard with
arms in their hands, and thus bring greater dan-

212 ALTO WAN.

gers on her he loved ; but these anxious thoughts
were again interrupted, when the medicine-pipe
was resumed, and the arms laid aside. Altowan
had remarked the horse that Roallan had given
the Elkhead, not far off from the edge of the wil-
lows; and a momentary cloud upon the moon,
gave him the hope of reaching him unperceiv-
ed. Throwing himself down, he crawled toward
him ; but the snort and bound of one of the oth-
ers, caught the attention of the party, and a word
from the leader brought out an Indian, who crept
cautiously toward the startled animals. Alto-
wan lay as still as death, by a log of driftwood
which sheltered him from the light, and was act-
ually passed over by the guard, who, proceeding
toward the outside, left him apparently as far as
ever from his object. Near him however, was
a buffalo willow ; and the dark soil deepened the
shade in its hollow, as well as enabled him to
crawl some yards toward a horse that was pick-
eted beside it. He perceived the advantage of
being within reach of means of escape, and rec-
ognized in the horse whose picket he had ap-
proached, the same animal which, the night be-
fore, had been given to the Elkhead ; but, how-
ever brilliant his exploits on a fair and open field,
he was not suited to the escape of one desper-

ALTO WAN. 213

ately pursued over a rugged pass, and by the
unrelenting energies of disappointed Indians ;
and Altowan crawled onward to another, which
he knew to possess the faculties he required, and
which he could not mistake from his dark color
— being of that chestnut which appeared almost
black. He was on the other side of him, when
he perceived that the horse-guard was approach-
ing, and examining the cords and the pickets.
Protected from his view by the animal, and his
head bent down behind his neck, the Indian ap-
proached without perceiving him, until, close on
the other side, he found him stroking his neck,
and humming a low air, common to the northern
tribes when they go to war. His way seemed
clear but for this man ; and a moment would de-
cide whether he might yet rest undiscovered to
profit by circumstances, or be plunged into a
conflict whence escape would be almost a mir-
acle.

The Crow horse-guard came round by the
back of the horse, and hesitated, apparently in-
clined to continue toward the fire ; but, not re-
ceiving an answer to something he said, stopped
and turned toward Altowan with a quick and
suspicious motion. There was no flash of the
tomahawk — the moon was dark — but it cleft the

214 ALTO WAN.

skull of the Indian, and he dropped without mo-
tion at his feet. Assuming hastily the robe of
the victim in place of his own, it was now his
game to play the part of the fallen guard ; but it
was hardly to be expected that the watchful hab-
its of these savages coukl be so long unattracted
by the proceedings of Altowan, however warily
conducted. Something of a stir, and the turning
of the head of those at the fire, gave him notice
that one bold push could alone succeed. The
dead Indian lay concealed in the hollow from
which Altowan had risen, and he appeared stand-
ing by the horse with the Crow robe. Detach-
ing the cord and fixing it in his mouth for a bri-
dle, he leaped upon his back without any hurry,
and moved quietly toward the fire, continuing
his song with an air of ease and unconcern.
His horse stumbled over a rope on his way,
which gave him an excuse to strike him with
the riding cord, the end of which he held in his
hand, and place him on his mettle. The Crow
partisan rose in some surprise, but Altowan ap-
proached with confidence. The light was such
as to show his features, having his face to the
fire, when, at a few yards, it would be impossi-
ble to maintain the deception longer ; and he call-
ed to Idalie in English to escape to the water by

ALTO WAN. 215

the buffalo road behind her, as he deliberately
fired at the leader, and then one of the band who
was nearest. Both shots took effect ; and while
their astonished companions sprang to their arms
— which had been, according to a superstitious
habit, laid aside while the mystic rites of the pipe
went round — he dashed after, and found her on
the brink of the stream.

It was not a moment before Altowan, fixing
his hold in her girdle, and throwing his weight
on the opposite side of the horse, had swung her
behind him. His object now was to gain the
pass by speed, before his pursuers. He was a
little below the camp ; and he stopped a mo-
ment and hollowed out in Blackfoot, that he had
avenged the death of his comrades and carried
off their prize. The vaunt lived still in the sur-
rounding echoes, when he heard the bound of
his pursuers ; but he turned round the promon-
tory which we have before mentioned, and their
yells faded on his ear as he urged his horse to-
ward the left-hand pass, where the road becomes
more level before the ascent of the mountain.
The black soil was favorable to concealment,
and its softness prevented all sound. He held
his onward way, the horse failed not, and the
mountain was near.

216 ALTO WAN.

The rage of the witnesses of the scene we
have just described, was beyond the bounds of
control ; but though the momentary confusion
had given Watoe time to leap on a horse and
disappear, yet they were not long in following
his example. Supposing he would take the same
route as the other, they followed him some little
way down the stream, until they caught a view
of his single figure in the distance ; and the
shouts heard by Altowan down the plain, were
those of rally from the wrong pursuit. They
were now making rapid headway for the same
point of ascent over that dark and silent waste ;
but he had already passed the first step of the
mountain, and was about to enter a considerable
space of open ground, bounded by a ravine on
the right, deepening into a kenion* and clumps
of dwarf cedar and pine on the left. It was here
that Altowan first paused, and allowed his horse
to breathe ; and folding his robe under him for a
saddle, passed upward off the path, toward the
shrubby shelter on the left. Halting in a small
water-course, to allow those behind to pass him,
he had hardly got off his horse when he heard
the steps of his pursuers and some low tones.
The movement had saved him. Idalie sprang
* Name given to a deep chasm.

ALTO WAN. 217

toward him as she heard the sounds ; but that
which caused her fear, was to her companion a
sign of safety. The night is seldom warm in
these lofty regions ; but they were sheltered by
the elevation of the ground around them, and by
its thick and high covering of sage bushes ; and
the small hollow in which they were, was, fortu-
nately for the horse, covered with a short and
thick sward of grass, and he was immediately
allowed the length of his rope to finish his even-
ing meal. Idalie, as her first alarm subsided,
sank down under the bank, and covering her
head, seemed to give herself up to some sad re-
flections ; while Altowan, knowing she had need
of repose to undergo the hardships still before
them, sat himself down and watched the slight
movement of her heaving bosom, as if he could
read its thoughts, which, could he have seen
them, he would have found simple as those of an
infant. At last she slept. Hardly a word had
passed between them, but there was an affec-
tionate confidence in her manner, which repaid
him for the pangs of jealousy he had previously
suffered on account of Roallan.

The fleecy clouds that passed across the moon,
were heeded but as they threw a shade on her ;
and the sound of the torrent, and the moaning

Vol. I.— T

218 ALTO WAN.

of the wind in the forest, so soothing to solitude,
lulled him not. The morning w T atch had almost
passed away, when he gently awoke her, and
prepared to continue their route to some place
of temporary shelter. Two parties of Crows
had met with repulse and defeat ; and their hab-
its led him to believe, that both would now be on
their return ; but he wished to gain some more
sequestered spot before the dawn, and there wait
until he could be more assured of the retreat of
his enemies. Idalie was on her feet, and it was
not a laborious task to caparison their steed.
She looked for a moment inquiringly in his eye,
and shook her head as she saw there the signs
of fatigue and watch. " You might have let me
take a share in what I could perform," she said,
as she leaped up behind ; and he turned his horse
toward the path they had quitted the night be-
fore. As it was yet dark, their progress was
not rapid, although their way was sufficiently
marked by travel, both of buffalo and Indian
camps, to be easily distinguishable. It was al-
ready a doubtful light, and they had not made
more than the distance of four miles, when the
gray dawn showed itself over the woody heights
on their right, whose ridges rose in fantastic
shapes above the dark mantling of pine that

ALTO WAN. 219

clothed their sides. It was a movement of dan-
ger from those of the party left behind on foot,
as well as those gone on before ; but Altowan
most feared those on foot, who would have an
opportunity of trailing him, even over the gran-
ite rocks, if once they fell in with his track. He
was aware that those in front, as soon as the
light enabled them to see that he had not pro-
ceeded, would wait for the others to come up ;
but he might still follow on the road they had
gone, as his track could not, until he left the path,
be distinguished from theirs. The woods on the
left w r ere now beginning to close down upon the
road, which was interrupted by ravines, which
disgorged their waters over the yawning chasm
on the edge of which it lay.

Altowan paused. " We must take up through
this brake ; the road is so near that we may be
upon them before we are aware. I know there
are some opens above ;" and he brushed through
some dwarf pines into one of these forest glades,
which fire or some more unaccountable agent
has produced, like gleams of sunshine in the al^
most impenetrable growth of pine which hangs
on the mountain sides. It lay nearly parallel to,
but somewhat removed from, the beaten track of
" the Bad Pass" and its extent was not above
two miles. They still proceeded in silence to-

220 ALTO WAN.

ward the other extremity from that by which
they entered, and where it dwindled into small
recesses, fringed by the spreading boughs of lofty
spruces, which feather down to the ground — un-
assailed by tempest, unscorched by heat, and
unnipped by cold — the veil of that eternal gloom
which reigns within. As they were about to
enter one of these recesses — where even soli-
tude appeared to have lost its way — Idalie turn-
ed her head, and perceived a horseman skirting
the open about a mile behind. Altowan felt his
side slightly pressed as she said, "Do not look
round ; they are after us ; do you know a road
out ?" Instead of obeying her desire, Altowan
looked round with a gesture of defiance, shout-
ing to his enemies to come on, until he awoke a
hundred echoes. A new spirit seemed to have
entered him, and caution was at an end. " If
our horse hold, I know a way they dare not fol-
low. Keep your hold ; I know you have no
fear; but keep your nerves quiet. I was not
born to perish in such a race." He had already
pushed his horse into a gallop, and pursued a
winding avenue, as if the line marked out for
some stream.

The animal he rode was of great strength,
short of limb, and of unflinching courage and en-
durance ; and although carrying a double burd-

ALTOWAN. 221

en, proceeded at a surprising pace. Their way
was uninterrupted for a considerable time, unless
by an intruding branch or an occasional rock.
At last, where there was a wider space between
the trees, and a considerable quantity of under-
growth, he diverged to the left, breaking some
branches as he passed, but suddenly wheeled
again to the right. A few hundred yards through
the thick wood brought him back on the Indian
road, which he crossed among some birch and
quaking ash.* Diving through this among piles
of rock, he already heard his pursuers on his
left, on the ridge above ; he still pressed on his
horse, leaping among the crashing branches from
rock to rock. For a short distance there was
now the open channel of a stream, flowing on a
granite bed, and bordered by a narrow fringe
of turf. He bounded on ; but here, though the
space was short, the pursuers had a full view of
the pursued, and the chasm rung with the echoes
of four rifles. Altowan's answering shout was
still that of defiance, and the taunting wave of
the arm was yet aloft, when horse and riders
disappeared headlong over the precipice into the
abyss below ! The yell above now rose shrill
and unanswered.

* Name given to the aspen poplar.
T2

222 ALTO WAN.

CHAPTER IX.

The sun was low, and almost over the west-
ern points of the mountain, when we again find
the fugitives, enjoying the appearance of securi-
ty in the solitude of one of those deep glens
whose overhanging sides of stupendous height,
screened the bottom from observation, and al-
most from light. There was however, a soli-
tary ray that lingered of the evening sun, and
shed a warm glow over rock and bush on its
dark sides, bringing them out into high relief.
There was a small spot of smooth turf, inter-
spersed with aromatic flowers and sheltered by
three or four spruce trees, which seemed to have
grown there to form a natural shade and shelter
in the rough bosom of the kenion. They stood
across the mouth of a recess in the rock ; and
two of them were so near as to darken it into the
gloom of a cave. Behind this sat Idalie, her
head slightly raised in the attitude of attention,
as if some one's coming had been expected with
absorbing interest, although without any appear-
ance of dread. A few arrows formed of grease-

ALTO WAN. 223

wood* lay beside her, and a few splinters of
agate, from which she had probably selected
their heads. A small fire of dry boughs burned
before her without smoke, and shed a gleam over
that shadowy spot, where no sun had ever shone.
The darkness however, was not gloom ; and the
seriousness of Idalie was not sadness ; but there
was a confidence and serenity in her mien, that
might but ill accord with one who was in the
power of a lover whose will had hitherto been
his only law, and whose passions had been sub-
ject but to his own control. Born in the north-
ern wilds, on the banks of the Siscatchuan, her
early days had been spent among the vicissi-
tudes of an Indian life. Her mother fell a vic-
tim to some nocturnal attack, over which mys-
tery and grief seemed to have drawn a veil ; and
at eight years old she had been delivered to the
care of a white lady, wife of one of the partners
of the Hudson's Bay Company at Red River, to
be educated, and to be away from the scenes of
danger and violence to which her father's roving
life would have subjected her.

Of fierce and dangerous temper, Montalt soft-

* A shrub so called, apparently without cause, the wood
of which is of great weight, and often used for arrows by the
Indians.

224 ALTO WAN.

ened but to his daughter; the idea of whose wel-
fare, real or imaginary, alone would govern him
in those sallies of passion by which he was habit-
ually transported when excited, almost to phren-
sy. He had always played a strange game in
promoting the intercourse with Altowan, and at
the same time checking any reciprocal affection
to that he cared not to conceal in the breast of
his daughter ; and, strange as it may appear, the
warm feelings of this relentless father appeared,
like the influence of the sun in the northern lati-
tudes, to have its value with her in proportion to
its exclusive coldness to all besides. But the ev-
ident predilection of Roallan had given him an
undisguised, though uneasy joy ; and it would
have been productive of a desperate feud, had
not the attempt of the Blackfoot chief thrown
the chances into the opposite scale, and given
Time, the mother of events, a subsidy to his aid.
The opportunity acquired by Altowan, during
the time his rescue had thrown her into his pow-
er, was, however, an advantage of which her
father had never calculated the results.

It was not long that Idalie sat solitary and ex-
pectant ; the spreading branches of the spruces
which guarded the mouth of the cave, were
brushed aside, and Altowan appeared, bearing

ALTO WAN. 225

a portion of the carcass of a bighorn, which he
had killed with one of the arrows of which the
fellows lay by the fire — the produce of Idalie's
labor. The bow was of willow ; but it had done
more execution than better arms in a less skillful
hand. The horse, though somewhat bruised in
his limbs by the route they had been obliged to
pursue in the bed of the torrent, still showed the
quick eye and animated spirit of health, and
drooped not under the severe trial of the last
twenty-four hours. He cocked his ears, and re-
garded the intruder for a moment, and then re-
sumed his former occupation, browsing on the
short grass which carpeted their retreat. Idalie
had no sooner remarked the burden of her com-
panion, than she sprang toward him, and reliev-
ing him of it, prepared for their meal by placing
some pieces to the fire to roast, with an alacrity
which was fully warranted by the length of their
fast. Her hair had lost the band that usuallv
confined it, and combed by her taper fingers,
hung in profusion over her face and shoulders,
concealing her countenance as she hung over
these simple culinary operations, by which the
most delicious meat is prepared " au natural"
and of which the proudest and bravest may be
the cooks.

226 ALTO WAN.

The ductile Idalie had not failed to profit by
any thing that was amiable or elegant in the so-
ciety she had met in the Red River establish-
ment of the Hudson's Bay Company. A limited
knowledge of music and Italian, and acquaint-
ance with the best English and French authors,
had been acquired with a natural taste, and
showed themselves in her with an original grace,
which softened beautifully the unembarrassed
and noble air she inherited from her mother's
race ; but there still was a boldness or uncon-
cern in her present demeanor, which, consider-
ing the relative situation of Altowan and herself,
scarcely seemed consistent with female delicacy.
The animated countenance of her companion
showed that her alacrity pleased him ; and he
stretched himself on that turf, which had proba-
bly never before been trodden upon, and gazed
upon the faultless figure that prepared the syl-
van meal. One side being partially cooked, the
spit was turned so as to place the other before
the fire, and they both approached to take off
such part as was roasted while the other was in
progress. Not a word was exchanged while
thus employed, and darkness had drawn her cur-
tain round the scene, except where an occasional
gleam fell on the rugged crag that almost over-

ALTO WAN. 227

hung their heads and the tendril waving from its
crevices. The meal was finished, with nothing
beyond those kindnesses which mutual aid re-
quired. It was now that a latent embarrassment
seemed to spread itself over the appearance and
conduct of both ; and it is difficult to say how it
might have ended, had not the noise of their
startled steed broken on the stillness of night,
and called them to a sense of other objects than
themselves ; and while they were starting on
their feet to ascertain the cause of alarm, the
glaring eyes of a panther were shining upon
them. It was but an incident — these animals
rarely attacking man — and in a moment the
blue, glaring orbs had disappeared, and the alarm
they caused had ceased. The arm of Altowan
had encircled the waist of Idalie, and the tremor
that shook her was not unfelt or misunderstood
by him. " Idalie," he said, " we are reminded
every moment that you are in a savage and dan-
gerous country ; we are thrown into each oth-
er's arms by a destiny it is almost impossible to
resist. I will renounce all other ambition but
that of the country of our birth — for I need not
conceal from you that I am also born on the wa-
ters of the North — on the war-ground on which
I have since tasted the chief joys of existence —

228 ALTO WAN.

power and fame ! What are the pleasures of
civilized life to me, who am already blooded in
the wild Indian chivalry ? There is no war
among the whites, where I could rise to com-
mand, but by long and servile submission ; there
is no tourney, there is no hunting-field among
them, where danger is courted, and manhood
holds a place such as here is accorded to its
prowess ; but when I come home here, the eyes
that welcome me are not those I love. Tell me,
Idalie, am I to be driven to desperate acts by her
whom I love by a proud choice, as well as by
those whom I ought to love by nature ? Am I
to be driven from the sumptuous domes of my
father, reviled as a — " the thought seemed to
choke him ; " and to waste an affection few are
capable of feeling without return?" And the
arm that clasped his companion drew her still
closer to his beating heart. She placed her hand
gently in his. " Altowan," she replied, " I am
yours by every tie of affection, and by such as
you know not of. Long has my eye been glad
when I saw you, and my ear open to the praises
that men are not ashamed ever to bestow on him
who is beyond the reach of envy. You think
me bold ; you may have thought me light in my
conduct to others, and in holding this language

ALTO WAN. 221)

to you ; but you have that to learn which may
explain all, and what I almost fear to utter."
She looked earnestly in his face : " The same
mother bore us, and nature has planted that affec-
tion in — "

The sentence was incomplete ; for the expres-
sion of wild amaze and dread was too strong in
Altowan's glance to be borne. He started from
her side. " Ever ! ever !" he said ; " but who
told you this idle tale ? My mother died when
I was yet an infant." " Listen, then, my broth-
er, for I can surely call you so. There are reas-
ons why my father would never name this con-
nection. He had received, for some years, large
quantities of goods on a credit of which no one
knew the origin. My mother died, and I know
not how ; but since I came to the knowledge of
our ties of blood, which was communicated to
me by Auguste in the pains of death, I have ask-
ed my father, and he told me it was true, but
that nothing but an extreme necessity might in-
duce me to disclose what he appeared to con-
sider a dangerous secret ; and, indeed, he seem-
ed more agitated than I could understand ; but,
oh, brother !" — and she flung her rounded arms
toward him as he started from her embrace,
and they fell almost despondingly by her side —

Vol. I.— U

230 ALTO WAN.

"there is proof enough in the affection I bear
you, which I have never felt shame to own."
Her words were unheeded, and contending emo-
tions seemed to convulse her companion, while
his efforts to command them were painfully evi-
dent during the pause that ensued. " Perhaps,"
he said, at last, " it is I who have not read aright
my inward feelings ; but I must try to make it
so, until I can unravel the strange tale you tell.
Oh ! Idalie, look not on me with those eyes of
love, but rather chill me with the appearance of
dislike. It is a strange fate," he continued, mus-
ingly, " that I should be raised to such a point
of hope but to be dashed down so terribly !"
His head sunk in despondency, and he sat long
by that neglected and w T aning fire, whose flick-
ering light showed the heaving bosom and the
agitated countenance, he fain would have hid-
den from his companion, wretched at seeing his
sufferings, which she still was unable to assuage.
It was a sad scene in that lone spot, the gurg-
ling stream near, and the distant roar of the cat-
aract and storm, that fill the air with murmurs.
Had he not sufficient within his own breast,
deep, and now silent? Alto wan rose, and walk-
ed forward in the deep darkness of the night-,
and as he rose, Idalie fancied she could read

ALTO WAN. 231

something of tranquillity, as well as resolve, in
the glance she had of his features. She gather-
ed some branches of spruce, and laid them as
a bed for her brother, and gathering her blanket
round her, composed herself to sleep.

232 ALTO WAN.

CHAPTER X.

On the banks of a small stream, which ulti-
mately finds its way into the upper waters of
Snake River, a rugged path, made by the bison
descending from a pass above, winds its way
through the dwarf willow and quaking ash that
line its side, their lighter green refreshing the
eye under the darkling pine that hangs over the
narrow vale, and occasional opens, where the
short turf is decked with almost unknown flow-
ers. On this path we find Altowan, accompani-
ed by Idalie, on horseback, some days after the
events of the last chapter. His brow was open,
though a shade of thought might be occasionally
seen on his countenance ; which, however, might
be warranted by the dangers of the country as
much as by inward feelings. On his companion
the early morning air had shed its freshness;
and on none of the beauties of nature around,
had it rested on any thing so radiant as upon
those opening charms. On a sudden turn of the
road round a projecting cliff, Altowan stopped
to contemplate the scene below, which, though

ALTO WAN. 233

not new to him, is one of undying wonder and
magnificence. Far over an extensive vale rise
" The Three Tetons," high above surround-
ing mountains ; their peaked heads shine white
against the azure sky, while other ranges suc-
ceed each other like waves beyond and beyond,
until they merge into the purple haze of the
western horizon. While the horse of his com-
panion browsed by the edge of the rippling
stream, he long and keenly gazed into the dis-
tant vale. There was an eager light in his eye
as he watched the bison within its range, as their
indistinct forms specked the skirts of the forest.
So thought Idalie as she joined him, and hung
upon his glance, to read there, the indications of
their route. But what appeared bison to her,
were better known to his more practiced eye.
He turned toward her with a slight smile : " They
can not be far off, my sister ;" and after a mo-
ment's pause he added, " You must wait here ;
I will go down and discover to whom they be-
long ; keep a look-out ; should there be a hostile
camp, I will not want a means of escape. Look
yonder, they cover the whole valley !"

We leave the sister seated on the projecting
cliff, and follow the brother down the steep de-
scent that led to the valley below, skirting at

234 ALTOWAN.

one time the edge of the pines, at another fol-
lowing the hollow of a water-course, to approach
unobserved. Thus following 4 the sinuosities of
hollows or the covert of thickets, he found him-
self close upon a band of horses that were on the
margin of the pines. It required but a glance to
recognize them as belonging to his adopted tribe.
A moment more, and he had vaulted on one of
their backs. Recognized by the horse-guards,
by whom he was hailed, he passed down the
opening vale through countless herds of steeds
of every color, which now almost crowded his
way. Youths practicing with the gun and the
bow, and women out on various pretexts, cover-
ed the plain below and the sides of the mount-
ain above. A stream, which the melting snows
swelled to the top of its banks, wound toward
the lodges, which appeared thickly covering its
sides as far as the eye could reach, without reg-
ularity, extending over the level space. He was
now approaching the outskirts of the camp. To
a stranger, the entering of a great village of that
people — wild and unknown even among the wild
and unknown tribes that live in these unexplored
regions — would have been an experiment of the
last resort ; but to Altowan scarce a face in that
numerous tribe was strange ; and here there

ALTOWAN. 235

were assembled nine hundred lodges. Perhaps
twelve hundred warriors might be mounted and
armed from among them. Approaching nearer,
the bustle of population, and the prying curios-
ity of dogs, and the half recognition of a friend,
gradually prepared for the scene within. There
was no regularity in the position of these tem-
porary abodes, and they were often crowded
upon each other, children, squaws, and dogs
alone appearing, and the women always at work
at something. All the rest were in idleness or
repose, except here and there a naked rider
would occasionally urge his horse over every
obstacle. Here might a racer be seen picketed
by the lodge of his owner, awaiting the evening
course ; and there, the squaws were saddling
others for the chase. The lofty figures of a
group of young warriors, dressed with the ut-
most care, carrying the wings of the war-eagle
to fan or shade them from the sun, would parade
the open space, where games were occupying
the gay throng. The river had also its share
of life ; bathers of every age were plunging, dol-
phin-like, in its stream, and coursing along its
banks as they emerged from its cooling waters ;
and the sculptor might pause from the contem-
plation of the brightest models of antiquity, to be-

236 ALTOWAN.

hold the free air and native grace exhibited in
the folds of the robe as well as the form it in-
closed.

There is something which, in the human heart,
gives warning of the presence of a friend, as
also of a foe, without a recognition either of per-
son or dress ; one of these unaccountable in-
stincts caused Altowan — who had not been stay-
ed by any of the numerous greetings he had re-
ceived — to pull up his horse as his eye was ar-
rested by the figure of a man stretched out at
his length, his head reposing in the lap of a girl
of sixteen, who was playing with or combing the
redundant locks of hair that spread over her
knees and concealed his countenance. She look-
ed up and shook back her own raven locks, as
she was sensible of his approach; and in the low,
guttural tones of her language, announced it to
her companion. Bounding to his feet, he gazed
for a moment, and then hurried to the embrace
of one he had never expected again to see. Pi-
natsi — for it was he — now conducted his friend
to the lodge where he had lived, awaiting his al-
most unlooked-for return. It was spacious, and
reared its head higher than those around ; its
poles were longer, and the tails of buffalo waved
from their ends as they radiated from the sum-

ALTOWAN. 237

mit of the cone ; a tripied stood at its side, on
which hung a lance and the skin of a cougar,
and beside it a bottle containing a mysterious
charm. Displacing the piece of buffalo skin
which served for a door, Pinatsi entered the
warrior chief's abode. The same bed he had
often used was on the right hand of the entrance,
and greeted Altowan with a welcome that the
weary have felt after a day of toil. Made with
the accustomed care, the soft robes that were
piled upon it presented an appearance of rich-
ness in their glossy hues scarcely to be looked
for in those rude wilds. To the poles that sup-
ported the lodge, were made fast different spe-
cies of arms — bows, quivers, spears, tomahawks,
rifles, and shot-guns. Several beds and a con-
tinuation of robes, were laid carefully around the
circle ; and a considerable space was left in the
center, where there was a hole, in which burned
a fire at which to light the sacred calumet. No
one was in the lodge ; but there was that air of
order which showed that the care of some friend
or dependent, was not wanting in the absence of
its owner. A conference of deep interest and con-
siderable duration, succeeded; and at its close,
Altowan left the lodge with clouded brow, in
search of his sister. Pinatsi, in the mean time,

238 ALTOWAN.

was making arrangements for the reception of
Idalie in a family adjoining, attached followers
of Altowan.

In the absence of the war party led by the
Elkhead, and of Altowan during the earlier part
of the season, various changes had taken place in
the camp of the Blackfeet. Absence and want of
success are always undermining agents against
power ; and the envy which personal courage,
expertness in the chase, superior knowledge,
and hitherto signal good fortune, could not fail to
excite in the breasts of many aiming at the same
goal, had begun to show itself in language as
well as in acts. Some delay purposely con-
trived, in meeting with a party of the Hudson's
Bay Company, through whom the supplies of
Altowan were usually received, had naturally
caused a discontent, if not distrust, fostered by
those by whom it had been caused. Several
leaders had started up to found their fortunes on
the expected fall of the young half-breed ; and
at the moment of his return, the village was the
scene of anarchy and division — the young men
taking part with the side to which caprice or in-
terest might lead them.

These accounts had been communicated by
Pinatsi ; and Altowan had rode forth to bring

ALTO WAN. 239

back his sister, with the anxiety of her fate add-
ed to his own wavering prospects, deeply im-
pressed upon his mind. Alone he pursued his
course, in a more direct way than that by which
he had descended ; musingly he passed through
the herds of coursers, that with shining coats
and streaming manes, gamboled in their summer
pride. The war eagle soared aloft in the free air
above, and the prowling wolf, with stealthy pace,
skirted the surrounding coverts. He had well-
nigh reached the place where he would have to
ascend from the great valley to reach the small-
er one, where the road lay by which in the
morning, he had arrived in sight of the camp,
when he perceived a naked Indian bounding
along to the right, in a course that would inter-
cept his route about the commencement of the
thickets of the little stream. The circumstance
was scarcely heeded. The animal he rode with
short and vigorous steps, commenced the ascent
beside the sparkling brook, that leaped gayly
down its rocky bed, so soon to lose its individu-
al existence in the turbid waters below. Alto-
wan's looks were sad as he regarded its uncon-
scious mirrors and its foaming speed ; a moral
he might deduce from its ephemeral course ;
and perchance such tinged the current of his

240 ALTO WAN.

waking dreams. Visions of ambition and power,
were mingled in them with a shade of care as
he mounted the turfy steep. He was now ar-
rived within two hundred paces of the rock
where he had left his companion in the morn-
ing, and the bushy willows extended thus far
down the hillside ; several slight tracks con-
verging, here entered the thicket, and formed a
deep-worn path. Bending to the horse's neck,
the rider who follows the steps of the bison
through these otherwise impervious jungles, has
to force back the boughs to gain a passage, and,
covering his eyes, give himself up to the beaten
track. An upright man, who would see and act
for himself, has no business there. Crouched like
the panther under that deep covert, the Indian
who had before appeared, caused the horse of
Alto wan to start and stop. He did not move;
and Altowan was scarcely able to distinguish,
through the low branches, the figure of Watoe.
He would have passed with a friendly greeting ;
but the almost supplicating expression of the fea-
tures of the Broadashe — he whose devoted at-
tachment he had long known — and the pleading
look that accompanied his request for him to
stay his course a moment, was not to be resisted.
Descending from his horse, he was soon seated

ALTOWAN. 241

by him on a bed of Alpine strawberries, which
carpeted the low vault, that, crypt-like, shaded
them from the burning sun. " I wished to steal
a moment of the chief, before he gave himself up
to her he seeks. My ears have been open since
I came back. I have heard much that concerns
you ; and I have sought you here that you may
know it. I have run far through the woods, to
meet you unseen." "Well," replied Altowan,
"what is it that you would tell me?" and he
threw his arm over the shoulder of Watoe.
"We would be brothers but for your being a
squaw ;" and he laughed as he observed the
half anger, half confusion of his companion's
looks. " It is strange," he continued, " how one
I know to be brave, should not aspire to be a
warrior among his people." " Suffice it that I
am not low in your eyes ; but I have that to tell
you, that you ought to know. There are more
that love you not in the camp than you think for.
Pinatsi came and took the two scalps in the
morning, and we have been here three days.
We thought that you would not escape, and
there has been a great division in the camp.
The Young Bull and the Spotted Deer, are both
anxious to move, but they know not how many
followers they may command ; and the old chief
Vol. I. — X

242 ALTO WAN.

has never spoken of your death or life since you
went off. It is said the English company are
not far off, with the Flatheads ; but they have
been avoided, that you should not have your
goods. There are many, I hope, still your
friends; but your eyes and ears must be open,
and your heart strong ; and some say you would
betray them to the whites."

During the foregoing harangue, which was
somewhat long for the speaker — whose habits,
though dissolute and gay, were seldom verbose
— Altowan's eyes were intently fixed on his.
The usually downcast look was slowly raised
when he answered not at the close of his com-
munication, and met the inquiry of the gaze di-
rected upon him by one in which melancholy
could not veil the deep interest which lighted
their upward glance. Altowan pressed him to
his side as he continued : " Then you have not
left a place for me in your heart, between Pinat-
si, as a friend, and the fair girl you saved?"
" Watoe," rejoined Altowan, as he parted the
tnick hair that fell over his brow, " I am about
to tell you what Pinatsi knows not, and what
you must not reveal. Idalie is my sister ; her
mother was also my mother ; she will not live
with me but in the lodge of Perahoe ; your eye

ALTO WAN. 243

must watch her, and I will make a brother of
you; and he who is my brother is a chief. But
for the present appear not to think of me ; you
can serve me much, or do me much ill." The
light shone through a vacant space in the foliage
above, and a sunbeam fell on them. " Behold,
the eye of the Great Spirit looks down upon us !"
He took the hand of Watoe, and the compact
was sealed.

On the buttress-like rock that hung over them
above, still sat Idalie, straining her eyes to behold
her brother's return, but her thoughts following
the more distant wanderings of another. It was
with a blush of shame that she perceived those
who came to seek her, already under the huge
block on which her dreamy watch was kept.
She hastened with the step of the argali from its
height ; her horse was soon caught ; a few min-
utes, and they were on their way to the camp.

It was on the second night after their return,
when the sun was sinking behind that region of
mountain and valley, which in some parts assum-
ed, in its giant form, the character of the South-
ern Andes. There is no Cotopaxi to light with
its terrible fires, the summits that appeared to
invade the calm sky of evening ; but the mighty
wall that separates the water and the lands of

244 ALTO WAN.

half the world — broken, disjointed, but majestic
in its ruins — is here awful and grand, even in the
remains that by-gone convulsions have spared.
The wild Indian, on the vast plains that stretch
themselves toward the east and the west, career-
ing in pride, plumed with the wings of eagles,
and bearing as trophies the feet of the swift an-
telope — among these stupendous beacons, crawls
stealthily, subdued by their mighty influence,
and fearing the mysterious sounds of the distant
tempest, as well as the nearer danger of the over-
whelming avalanche. It was not far from sun-
set, and the lower valley had already lost the
rays of evening ; dark crowds of horses were
seen collecting and approaching from the more
distant range. Several races had just ended ; and
those who had witnessed them, were returning
from the "Company," occasionally stopping to
look on at the different groups of gamblers, that
seated round a blanket, were keeping time in
their wild notes, to the juggling motions of their
games. All occupied in their different amuse-
ments and pursuits, the camp at sundown, gen-
erally presented a scene of animation and gaye-
ty. This however, was suddenly checked. An
Indian, advanced in years, of lofty stature, and
with an air accustomed to command, spoke a

ALTO WAN. 245

few words as he rode through the crowd. Pro-
found silence now took the place of that multi-
tude of sounds, which but a moment before had
filled the air ; and the games ceased, and all seem-
ed absorbed in the interest which the communi-
cation of the old chief inspired. It was not often
that he addressed the village. The usual rou-
tine of proclamation was performed by a sort
of adjutant or crier, except when there was any
petty leader or aspiring brave who thought it
might be worth his while to try the effect of his
eloquence to raise a war party or a foray against
a hostile tribe, and take his chance of success,
or proclaim his want of influence, by the manner
in which he might be listened to.

The old chief took his course through the mid-
dle of the lodges, at a place where by some ac-
cident, there appeared to be two vistas forking
to the right and the left — one leading through
the center, the other tow T ard the outskirts of the
camp. The old man turned sharp out of that
toward the center, in which Altowan's abode
was prominent, and entered the street to the left.
To give notice that the whites, and the Snakes,
and the Crows were together on the head of the
Susquadee, and that the Flatheads, Perdorcilles,
and Hudson's Bay Company, were on the upper

246 ALTO WAN.

waters of the Snake River, was the object of his
harangue. An excitement is usually produced
by any news among these roving tribes, espe-
cially where the prospect of war or plunder is
involved ; and in the present instance, linked
with numerous companies of white trappers, the
most inveterate enemies of their nation were in
their neighborhood. Among groups collected,
and after the old man had passed, different
spokesmen addressed such knots of hearers as
they could collect, in language calculated to ex-
cite them to join in some expedition. The fe-
male gamblers, were all that remained at their
posts ; and their wild song occasionally rose
above the hum of voices. The clouds of horses
which a while ago hovered on the distant heights,
were now converging in one vast mass ; and as
they came on over the hollow-sounding ground,
their neighing filled the air, while their dust ob-
scured the atmosphere. Some time had elaps-
ed, and Altowan had seated himself outside his
lodge, when Pinatsi called his attention to a band
of horsemen decked out for war, who were pa-
rading the camp, led by one of those braves who,
thirsting for advancement, are eager to seize all
opportunities of pushing themselves into notice.
They were evidently beating up for recruits ;

ALTOWAN. 247

and it was speedily noised that to revenge the
death of the Elkhead was the object of the call.
A numerous band, collected by friendship and
consanguinity, added to those whose impulse
might naturally lead them to join in such an en-
terprise, could be easily raised in such a cause.

It was with a heavy heart that Altowan turn-
ed and entered his lodge. He could take no
share in such exploits, as but a moon before,
would have promised him the most supreme de-
light. He thought he could plainly perceive that
his influence was on the wane ; his spirit was
depressed, and he thought it impossible he could
ever re-enter upon his former career. The na-
ture of his temperament was such, that disap-
pointment in any favorite design would be al-
I . most fatal to his future success. Proud of his
Indian descent, it had long been his cherished
desire to form a connection with one descended
of his mother's nation, and falling back upon re-
sources and rank which he would claim in Eng-
land, give the world an example, that true nobil-
ity may be found in the mind of the wild war-
rior race of these Western mountains, fit to shine
. in comparison with the long lines of pedigree,
which so often transmit to their descendants cor-
rupt blood as well as degenerate habits. This

248 ALTO WAN.

scheme, which he had pursued with some pros-
pect of success, had been, we are already aware,
blighted in all that related to Idalie ; and the
shock was not to be calmly borne by one of his
sanguine temperament. But an observer who
could have closely viewed and analyzed his feel-
ings, would have perceived that he had loved
Idalie more in connection with this romantic
plan, than even for the rare beauty and grace
which she added to a temper and disposition
hardly to be equalled. His affection for his
beauteous sister, was however, as strong as had
been his supposed love ; and the power to serve
her and place her where her young mind might
still acquire the graces and accomplishments of
education, was now an object which began to
engross his thoughts above all others ; and the
consciousness of her being of his blood, and the
hope of so developing and molding her native
graces as to win for her an admiration of which
the highest dames of England might well be
proud, deepened and strengthened the warm af-
fection he felt for her as his sister.

He had still many friends and adherents in
the tribe of his adoption ; but difficulties and
dangers seemed to spread themselves around
his favorite prospects, while unlooked-for events

ALTO WAN. 2U>

were continually obliging him to change his
plans for the attainment of his desires. Of his
usual body-guard and followers, he knew many
would wish to join the war party raising to at-
tack the rendezvous of the whites ; and such an
expedition would, under any other circumstan-
ces, have originated with himself. But of that
wild species of strife he had had enough to es-
tablish his fame, and to acquire a power which,
if he could only retain sufficient to reach that
quiet retirement with those he wished to take
with him, his intention was to abandon, together
with the country. It was to ponder upon his
present position, and to shut himself up from
the view of preparations in which he could not
smother entirely the desire to participate, that he
retired to the gloom and solitude of his lodge.

The fire burned but dimly, and the gloom of
approaching night had already entered his abode.
He sat on the soft couch that had lately yielded
but little repose, when-a hand was laid gently on
his arm, and he found by his side the dark form
of the young Broadashe. " You must be well
practiced in stealthy entrance, to be able to sur-
prise me thus," he said, as he smiled a melan-
choly welcome. " My tread is soft now, like the
foot of the panther, by those I love ; but my

250 ALTO WAN.

spring will be as sudden on those I hate. My
blood is boiling at my degradation ; I have no
fear but for your eye, when it is turned coldly
on me ; I will proclaim myself a man, and go to
war," his slender form dilating as he spoke.
" You, who they say came among us protected
by the Great Spirit, from beyond the wide wa-
ters, borne as the eagle when he sets his wings to
the tempest, to waft him to distant lands — you,
whose arm is strong, whose heart is big, whose
foot is swift, and whose eye is true, and from
whose mouth comes knowledge and power —
you have never known tyranny, nor been made
a slave to the caprices of the strong." His low,
and not unmusical voice, was rendered tremulous
by emotion, as he added, " But one has been kind
to me, and but to one can I give a voluntary love
in return." ' ; What are they about in the lodge
of Perahoe ? Those that I love you must also
love," said Altowan, after a pause in which to
allow the youth to recover from his excitement.
" Many young men are hourly there, and I would
not that my sister should be won by a lover un-
friendly to me, who would separate her from a
newly-found brother, or cause any strife beiween
us." " I am there often, while the women work
and talk of matters they heed not to mention be-

ALTO WAN. 251

fore such as you. They think it is not worth
while to veil their thoughts before me; but Idalie
is 'different from the rest. She, I do not think,
has softened her heart toward any Blackfoot.
But I see you are sad and doubtful ; come in
a short time to the lodge of Perahoe, and you
will see. There will be many of the young
girls there ; and from the youths that may be
about, to watch their going home, you may judge
who may love your sister. You will see also,
how I am obliged to act a part different from the
Watoe who loves Altowan, and who is in his
heart, no woman."

A few seconds, and this strange and wayward
creature, as noiselessly quitted as he had ap-
proached the side of the only object on earth he
loved ; but there was a vague fear in his mind —
a dread of the greatest misfortune that could
happen to him ; and that was the departure of
his protector from the camp and country of his
tribe. The indifference he had shown to the
maintenance of that authority, which years of
peril and success had raised on a foundation to
be rendered solid only by constant attention and
care, to the observing eye of Watoe, was an in-
dication as strong as any declaration to that ef-
fect.

252 ALTOWAN.

It was an hour after the above conversation
had ended, when Altowan, wrapping himself in
a robe — unornamented, but of ample size — was
slowly threading his way through the horses,
in many places so thickly tied as almost to ob-
struct his passage. The dwelling of Perahoe
was before him, and the blaze of the pitch pine
shone through the buffalo skins of which it was
composed ; and the noise of merriment and wild
music, and a crowd near the door, gave token
of revelry within. There is a silent authority in
the movements of some men, which opens their
path through the common crowd. A lofty fig-
ure, a noiseless step, the head shrouded up to the
pale and beautiful brow, the virgin calm of mien,
unquestioning but unquestioned, had their usual
effect. The hardy opponent shrunk involuntari-
ly aside ; the secret foe and the open friend, alike
gave way ; and Altowan seated himself in the
temporary abode of his sister, scarcely observed.
Behind the inner circle, and opposite to that in
which the women were gambling with reckless
joyousness, while answering with wanton look
the well-understood sign or beaming eye that
spoke the fire of passion in the language of na-
ture — more delicate, in form as well as feature,
than many of the females around — Watoe was

ALTO WAN. 253

the most noisy of the throng, as well as the most
entirely abandoned to the pleasures of the pass-
ing hour ; and he took a delight in returning the
glances directed to girls by his side by impa-
tient or doubtful lovers, perplexing and confus-
ing both, and then laughing that wild laugh
which had given an habitual leer to his features.

The game at which they played, is one in
which much sleight of hand and animated gestic-
ulation, is required. Divided into two parties,
sitting opposite each other, a small piece of ivory
or bone, is given to one or two of a side, which
they convey beneath a robe or blanket, into ei-
ther of their hands ; the drum and song then
commence, and to the tune the whole side keep
time in a sort of jerking-up-and-down motion,
performed by the elasticity of the muscles of the
hip, at the same time throwing out their arms,
and pretending to transpose the ivory from hand
to hand, amid wild gestures and music ; and,
buoyant with excitement, the opposite party are
watching to divine, from the expression of the
eye, which this dazzling animation is intended to
conceal, in which hand the hidden ivory is con-
tained. An unsuccessful guess, loses a counter ;
whereas a fortunate one, transfers to their side
the active part of the game. The loss of all the

Vol. I.— Y

254 ALTO WAN.

counters on either side, decides the stakes — when
fresh stores of beads, or skins, or paint, or powder
and ball, or even horses and arms, are collected
and arranged, regulating the value according to
individual caprice or want, to commence anew.
It was during the pause that took place for this
purpose, that Altowan caught the eye of Idalie,
which had been before kept attentively lowered
from the gaze, that from every quarter, glow 7 ed
upon her. It was not difficult for her to perceive
he had something to communicate. He was al-
ready in the moonlight ; and his sister, having
raised the skin of the lodge behind where she
had sat, was at his side ; and many a scowl fol-
lowed them as they rose to leave. On the bank
of the full but silent stream, thev seated them-
selves ; and their conversation — which was long
and in a Low tone — appeared to be of the deepest
interest. They were on their way back, when
Altowan, who had apparently collected himself
for some important request, resumed, in answer
to something said by his companion, " I have
now, then, but one request to make, and that is,
that if we should ever arrive together in the
great world of the whites, if I should think it
worth while to demand it for your good, you
will give me the right to bar one union." Idalie

ALTOWAN. 255

thought a moment ; the world of the whites was
far away ; the only affection she had, was in these
wilds ; and she yielded her consent, adding, that
if her father did not object, she was but too will-
ing to abandon the country of the red man. Her
simple thoughts could not extend beyond the sim-
ple prospects around her ; and she saw nothing
to hinder her father, and her brother, and Roal-
lan — whose declaration was all she wanted to
consider him as her betrothed — from going to a
country where she felt assured that her brother
had ample funds for their support. " I have to
peril much for you, Idalie," Altowan added, " and
more for your father, if as I guess, he will fall
into the hands of our warriors ; and it is but just
that I should have, as a reward, the power, as I
hope from your promise, of securing your happi-
ness. Promise me yet again, by the remem-
brance of our mother !" She promised — the
simple-minded girl promised in the purity of
truth — somewhat startled at the prospective care
of her guardian. Still, she registered the word
in that shrine which is most sacred and inviolate
in the least worldly natures. They were again
approaching Perahoe's lodge, where they separ-
ated.

END OF VOL. I.

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